Soar Like A Cockroach

It's funny how people react towards the way I write. I mean, really. I think it's trash, you think it's good. I think it's being what I really am, and you think its sole hatred to the world. Well, no offense to the hardcore emo's out there, but seriously, this is no emo blog.

If you come to think of it, there's nothing good in life to blog about anyway. It's a common misconception that the fact you are living is a very very good thing on itself. Why? If you're life is bombarded with bazillion problems, that isn't very good. You might as well die than to suffer along the way. But then again, problems come and go in a weird way. Ugh. I'm not suicidal or anything.

I'm just being repulsive. Because..well.. I am repulsive.

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Do you know what else is disgusting aside from me? Cockroaches.

As a child, I never grew fond of cockroaches. Who the hell would? Cockroaches are far more disgusting than any other pests around the block. I mean, rats are perfectly fine for me if you just set the fact that their shits stink and their piss could kill people aside, they're actually nice. At least they don't fly, and they don't lay freakishly small eggs around our vicinity.

I probably inherited dad's mannerism of jumping when there's a cockroach around. The only difference is that he gets something (like a rolled newspaper or just something approximately 5 times the size of the pest) and use it to hit the damn insect, obviously to kill it to pieces. That being said, I don't like it too when my dad would smear the dead body of the cockroach to my shirt. I freak out and cuss in a weird and abhorring way, then throw my clothes out of me in an instant. I don't do that anymore, evidently. Aside from the fact that I'm already on the last phase of my puberty, my beer belly would scare people off. Instead, I would just shriek and run off to hide.

I remember this one time when my sister and I were the only products of my parents' young and sappy love, and we lived in my father's room that's smaller than my present bedroom in his parents' house. There are several holes in the bottom part of every wall, like that holes you see in Tom and Jerry. But those holes look like they've been punched by a serial killer, unlike Jerry's holes which he probably spent thousands on for perfect ledges. Of course we knew that those holes house mice and cockroaches and termites and Al Pacino and any other dirty pests, so it's no surprise when my dad would just suddenly stomp his feet on the floor while finishing some report on his laptop.

There was this double bed in the room; my mom and dad took the bottom part, and the upper part was ours. That was when the days where still good and we were the complete opposite of obesity. It was night time, and my mom finally turned the switch off to put us to sleep, because there's school the next day. As we were drifting off to sleep, something crawled up towards my forehead and stayed there for a moment. I lifted my hand and touched it and..

Oh hell no. It's a fucking cockroach. Surprise, Surprise.

I screamed loudly in my head. Fuck! It's a damn pest! It's gonna eat me!, I thought. I didn't want to wake my parents up, or to let them find out what a big and pesky irony their daughter is. For someone who lives in a cockroach-infested room, I was dead scared of cockroaches. That, ladies and gentlemen, is not a good thing.

I climbed down the bed quickly and opened the light. As I was doing this, I felt that the cockroach left my forehead off and flew somewhere. It also left this stupid burning sensation, like a mark. As I turned the lights off, I saw the cockroach resting on the wall. Well, that's the part when I screamed.

"MAY IPIIIIIIIISSSSSS! (There's a cockroaaaaach!)"

My father muttered some words to shut me up and threw me his big pillow, and then he went back to sleep. I was so helpless, I shook their sleeping bodies just to wake them up and kill the damn cockroach for me. They ignored me, of course. The cockroach started to fly around the room. I screamed again and again and again. God, I hate it when that happens. I grabbed a blanket to cover my whole body and rested on the floor.

I woke up with swollen eyes and lips.

The wrath of these flying things is still not over, evidently.

Thank God, my journal's cockroach-proof.

Lucky Leap Day

In Nadia Wheatley's Lucy in the Leap Year, Lucy had this belief that there's something magical with February 29; the year's extra day. Leap Day isn't really much of a biggie to me ever since I was a kid. I mean, God, it's just a fucking day anyway. It's not like Jesus will appear in front of me or something. If things go that way, then yeah, Leap Day would probably be a biggie.

Last night I found out that dad will not be able to go to my graduation day two weeks from now. Actually, I would like to express how bad I'm feeling about it, but sadly the word that would sum it all up isn't discovered yet. Maybe some other time. Or never, because I doubt that anyone would give a damn anyway.

So yeah, I went to school today with puffy eyes and wet face - fresh from the crying shiznit I did in the car on my way to school. But amidst all that, my mind still wants to think that this day is gonna be my luckiest day ever, as far as Lucy's concerned. It's gonna be my last real school day anyway, so I crossed my fingers, trying to make unclear ends meet with my 'lucky day' juxtaposition.

But I guess I'm too evil to get a taste of luck.

This all happened TODAY:

1. I didn't get to study because I kept crying the night before.
2. I had puffy eyes for the rest of the day.
3. I received our thesis, and yeah, we had the lowest score ever.
4. I came down at the slope 12pm, wondering where the hell is my school bus.
5. I knew it, I so knew it. The bus left me.
6. I didn't have any money with me, so commuting was out of the picture. Unless I begged to people or something, which I evidently cannot do because somehow, I still have some pride left with me.
7. I saw our car going up the school. God, I was ecstatic as hell. I chased it up till I reach the parking area, and for reasons I don't know, the car was gone. How the hell could mom drive through our school? That would be so imbecile.
8. I cried upon knowing that my mom's gone, because that alone means that I have to wait for the next trip of the bus, which will not happen until 4 hours after.
9. I waited for four friggin hours.

The list would be extra-cool if it contained 10 misfortunes. I'll try harder to be more unlucky next time.

Screw Lucy. Leap Days suck. That's probably the reason why they only exist every 4 years.

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SCHOOL'S SO OUT.

Well, not really. We have to go to school for the graduation practices, which I think is a waste of time. I've read a pile of books that's in a high school setting, and they never mentioned once that they have to rehearse for it. It's a special special special day. You don't practice something on your special day, don't you? I don't practice stuffs on my birthday, and I know a lot of people who doesn't, too.

Fairly stupid.

Anyways, the rally that's going on right now seems to be tasty. I knew I should've joined.

Sort of.

Biggie and Father Love

This day is the weirdest one I ever had. Of course, that day (or afternoon, specifically) when I walked a mile or so because of this stupid problem I have still tops the list, but this has got to be something of significance.

I was a bit excited last night, for some politically-connected reasons. I know this is a quasi-neutral and conceited blog, because I blab about nothing except for my daily ramblings, by which of course no one gives a damn about. But as you probably know, the country's political condition as of the present has gone to its critical point. A lot of controversies are popping out here and there, but the truth seems to be hiding somewhere only they know. It's kinda unfair and unruly, don't you think? I mean, I don't usually give a fuck on the latest scoop they got about Lozada's statements, or the latest evidences political advocates keep showing off during those special senate hearings. You know how apathetic I am.

But now, I think I have to give apathy a break.

I went to school this morning half-asleep and half-curious about..well..nothing interesting, really. Just about CBCP or the Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines' pastoral statement the media are trying to get hold of since last night. I was not thinking of our final examinations on Math and Mandarin (damn her), but I was, on the other hand, wondering so much if CBCP decided to join the mob of Filipinos who knew better than to shut up albeit the weird things appearing on news every night. That'll be so cool, I thought. Reminds me of that 20-something year old yellowish video of what happened during the first People Power Revolution, during Ferdinand Marcos' remarkable regime. Nuns praying, a humongous throng with people holding hands and shouting, countless soldiers guarding their places with their shotguns and tanks, helicopters soaring and trying to scare people with their weapons..woah, isn't it? That kind of thing sends me thrills enough to overpass that thrill I get from riding roller coasters.

During our examinations for Mandarin, my adviser suddenly boomed the room with her voice as she opened the door hastily and quickly explained that the circulars she's about to give is about the rally on Friday. And those who are interested should go to Mr. Macapanpan after the exams.

Interested.

Should.

Go.

Rally on Friday, huh? Then that actually means that CBCP agreed..or what?

Well, by the time I got hold of my circular, I stared at the words my eyes first caught hold of : we are not calling for the President's resignation but for the TRUTH. Um, isn't that a bit..wrong? So, yeah. You can just imagine everyone's surprise because this is seriously a first in along time.

I quickly looked at the date just to make sure the pastoral statement I'm hungry for didn't affect any of this. February 26, 2008, it said.

And so, by the time I threw my backpack to my bed and went straight to my computer after school, I quickly browsed for the latest news article about what I'm waiting -and hoping- for, which is the pastoral statement of CBCP. I kept my fingers crossed since last night, hoping they would be more serious about everything and thus agree that the citizens of this country should not only fight for the truth, but for a new and responsible leader as well. Ha. I'm fucking sorry for being such an activist for a while, but my family hates the current leader like hell.

To my disappointment, the pastoral statement simply stated just about everything in the circular. How could they be so unbelievably apathetic? Knowing the TRUTH will only lead us all into wanting her to resign in the end. The TRUTH they're saying is obviously right before our eyes. The government's actions merely disgust us, so why keep it that way?

I wish I can go to that rally on Friday. I just need to.

Badly.

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Ha. And here's another reason why this day had been so weird.

(This will be long. So if you don't want to read, then scram)

From Lorainne Paragas to Paragas Ronnie , date Wed, Feb 27, 2008 at 8:26 PM subject um. sorry for..disturbin'. mailed-by gmail.com

hide details 8:26 PM (2 hours ago)

Reply

Hey..um..dad.

It's actually my final examination for English and Physics tomorrow, but I'm not really in the mood to study. And besides, with less than a month to go before I fly off to college, slacking off has been ridiculously and inevitably compulsory these days. It's not my fault I'll be exiting high school.

Anyways, I have a weird (more like insanely absurd) confession/theory/hypothesis to blurt out. I'm sorry if I have to disturb your hardworking ass, but this is of (somewhat) a major issue.

Um. I think mom is smoking.

Sorry if this whole nonsense of an email may seem to be, indeed, nonsense to you (it's probably either this sh*t's written in English, my grammatical skills are lower than that of an illiterate, or this issue is relatively out of hand.). But I cannot, for the love of God, think of another better person to babble this with other than my own father and (sigh) my pseudo-hero. I think you understand me better than everyone around me does, which is part-ironic, if you ask me.

BUT YOU HAVE TO PROMISE THAT THIS THINGY IS JUST BETWEEN US, ALRIGHTY? If I hear a word from mom about this, you better look for a replacement for your stupendous daughter.

Here goes my 'evidences' to support my theory:

-Tita Baby, mom's chain-smoking friend, came by this morning to drop something off (or so I think she did). Then suddenly, mom took this Marlboro Lights 20s (Gold) out of her bag and handed it to Tita Baby, asking if they (take note: THEY) need more (or something like that).

-"Natikman ko na yan..medyo matamis" she said suddenly while approaching her friend who's at that nifty sala set you bought a few years ago, and while holding the Marlboro pack. They roared with laughter and mom ended it with.."Napuno ko nga yung ash tray eh".

-"Nakaka-ilan ka per day? Isang kaha?" she asked Tita Baby. Of course I know what the fuck a kaha is. I'll tell you later why.

I am not saying all of this to you to confront mom. I mean, you guys are technically separated anyway, albeit the non-existence of legal documents to thus prove it. It wouldn't really matter if you get mad at her or whatever. I'm just concerned because DUH. She just gave birth 5 friggin months ago, and here she pops out suddenly with a death stick. There are 5 children here, and 4 of which could die because of secondhand smoking. She's giving me yet another reason to leave the premises of this house your money built.

And yeah, I did smoke. For how many days? Four. Four rebellion and hatred-filled days because I have so many problems bombarding me all at the same time. Nobody forced me to smoke. I tried it on my own, because my curiosity is killing me like hell. I can't concentrate at school because the thought of smoking a cigarette would always appear every now and then. I did this because my stupid best friend just [EDIT]. And truly, I was mad as hell. It was the last thing I needed to happen, really. But all things fell into place and I've been carbon monoxide-free for almost a week. I then realized that smoking will never be my thing, and so does doing drugs or whatnot.


But now, I cannot believe my own mom is killing herself slowly with smoking. I'm no advocate, dad. I'm just utterly concerned of my own mother's health. I just want to confront her myself, but that would be very disrespectful. She's still my mom, if you look at it.

I don't know what will I do if this is all true.

On Wed, Feb 27, 2008 at 9:08 PM, Paragas Ronnie wrote:

Before anything else, I just want to tell you that I'm really impresed with your english writing skills. Are you sure you don't want to get journalism or mass comm in college? j/k lang syempre, I know you had already decided to be a techie. :)

I now feel shy to communicate with you in english. Compared to yours, I feel like a provinciano :)

OK, let's get back to the issue. Thanks for telling me this and of course, I promise that I'l keep this thing just between the two of us. Of course you know that the only reason I still have contact with your mom is only because of you and your brothers and sister.

Smoking? I also tried it before. Not as short as 4 days like you but maybe for 6 months. I smoked occasionally kapag medyo naparami ng kain at toma. Then I stopped when the doctor told me that I'm having high blood pressure. IIs only then I realized that smoking doesn't do anything good. Its not only waste of money but it was also bad for your own and other people's health.

Let's just hope that your mom is just in the 'trying out' stage and soon realize that it will not do her any good. Let's give her a couple of weeks. If she doesn't stop, let's say in a month, then I'll try to find a way to make her realize that she is risking everybody's health.

o cya, relax and try to prepare for your finals. don't let this issue affect you, for now...

Sometimes I think my dad alone can change the world. Well, sort of. I should be with him, really. And together, we will be in harmony.

Unschmitled

Alright. Happy day's over. Nyanyanya.

Actually, the week after all of us had successfully defended our respective theses is considered the happy week. Minus of course the quizzes and other things that made us jittery. And that Physics period where all of my classmates were forced to absorb countless complex solutions that were a gazillion times harder to understand than the quiz we had the next day. Reminds me of my first swimming competition, which I will not reminisce further (because I've been mentioning it a lot).

Seeing my classmates slacking their asses off is like seeing my children graduate in college. It merely makes me sentimental to think that in three weeks' time, I will not be able to see the same people again. The next thing I'll know, they'll be all different persons that I fear I will not be able to talk/laugh with anymore.

Oh, right. This is so not the time to be sentimental.

Well, duh.

I have two more things to do before I can truly say that I'm free, namely:

- Damn Economics Project
- FINAL FINAL thesis.

See? I mean, that's the shortest to-do list I've ever made. Why can't they just cancel out these two and let us, oh I don't know, breathe? It's really difficult to study for the finals when the aforementioned projects are occupying your mind.

Like I have any options anyway.

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You want a fresh topic? I'll give you one.

Friends I Can't Wait To Meet.

Now I'm not talking about this one because I was in this feud with a friend or I can't wait for college or I'm not contented with my present friends (they're like, the best already.). It's just that I ran out of topic in mind to bother anyone reading my filth.

1. The Druggie - I've always wanted to interview anyone who is under the influence of angel dust or whatnot. That's relatively fun, because they will not, for the love of God, give you straight answers. And they're always excused for being so stupid, of course. I can always blame him/her why I wasn't able to do my homework when my mother would ask. I guess I just have to say the old excuse with the right infringement. "My druggie friend ate my homework"

2. The Nerd - Nah, I'm not really emphasizing them infamous high school stereotypes. I mean, I like nerds. Everyone does, isn't it? People just start to dislike them when they exaggerate their nerdness to much, like dressing themselves with the latest suspenders, clipped with the shortest short that apparently makes their crotches a bit bulky. And yeah, don't forget the 'ol eyeglasses with that. It's just a sad fact that everyone wants to be a damn nerd. Too bad they genuinely can't.

3. The Writer - And no, I'm not gonna use him/her for my term papers or whatsoever. Actually, I have short list of writers/bloggers I so want to be friends with:
-Jessica Zafra
-Geekologie/The Superficial Editor
-Jet Trogo
-Coldman (see Anukayayun link)
-Marcus Rex II
-Cyberpunk (it's too bad I can't seem to access her blog nowadays.)

4. The Techie - Having a friend who has insanely the same interests as mine is, by far, the only thing in my socializing homework right now. You can imagine my happiness when he/she would purchase a spankin' new gadget, because that would perfectly trigger my competitiveness. And besides, I want to see how arrogant I can get in him/her. That would be so fucking fun.

5. The Repairist/Repairer What The Hell It's Called The Repair Person - Need I say more? You can get your broken things to be repaired for FREE. Sweet, huh? By then, I can finally smash up stuffs without me worrying about expired warranties or even the police, for that matter. Repair persons are usually big and huffy and scary and phlegmatic, so I need not to deal with the authorities.

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Reading overly-sappy books kinda suck. I feel more than obliged to make myself feel good by forcing stupid butterflies to stay in my stomach and fly all day long. What's worse is that this usually occurs in the morning, as probably a starter for the rough day filled with projects and papers.

More specifically this morning.

I was awake at 6AM, but being the stubborn pig that I really am, I stayed in bed till 8AM. Pathetic, right? I mean, for two fucking hours, I just daydreamed about me finally shedding a gargantuan amount of fat. And not just the losing-some-weight thingy. I also daydreamed about dressing myself quite formally, then going to the graduation ball..

What the fuck.

I know, I know. I'll stop reading books from the Twilight saga. Just so you know (and as if anyone really cares enough to have the guts to listen to this) I'm already on the third installment, which is Eclipse. I'll stop when the last book, which is Midnight Sun, would be out already. Well, duh.

I don't know why I'm feeling the need to regain my endorphines by reading excessively sappy books and eating a pile of chocolates. I'm not problematic, at the very least. As of this writing, I really don't have any problems in mind.

I told you I'm a damn psychopath

(I am not a fucking hopeless romantic. Don't ever ever bring that up.)

On Second Thought...

Maybe I miss her.

Or terribly missing her.

I'm sorry.

Not Quite

It's been kinda a while since the last time I bored my imaginary readers with my literary manure, which is quite evident in my posts. I mean, hello. I'm so damn conceited I can't even write something so superlatively good I for one can even gape at.

Anyways, there were nonetheless few things that appeared and paved their way to significance since I last updated this shit with my misanthropic life. There has been serial killers, friends who turned out to be more deceitful than Judas Escariot, and mobile phones that can be a bit insulting to fat persons.

First off, that stupid serial killer. There has been reports that there's this psycho killer who lurks at our village. Hence his title, he kills people, most especially girls. Rumor has it that he used to be a soldier, and he saw his wife and child being raped right before his eyes. Very cliched, isn't it? Well yeah. That obviously triggered his need to rape women and stab them to death afterwards.

Am I scared? Yeah well..kind of. Sorry for those people who adores my apathy, but this is a serious issue that needs to be frightened of. But as of this writing, the serial killer issue is slowly dying and people are actually claiming that this killer does not exist. Screw you all. I remember this one time at school when a single rumor about an inspection (in our school, an inspection is the last thing you want to happen.) would tense every student body. Since Charlene and I found the sight of people rushing to their respective lockers to hide their prohibited gadgets and whatnot excessively hilarious, we decided to spread the same rumor on a seemingly bright and inspection-less day. Of course nobody believed us. I mean, we were laughing our asses of while proclaiming the rumor and nobody really does take us seriously.

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Friends betray you in more ways than one. They may betray you in a very Judas-and-Jesus way. They may betray you by backstabbing you. And the most peculiar yet extremely veracious way (based from experience), they may also restrict you from doing bad things..yet it will be so fucking hypocritic on their part because they're doing something that's also bad (and even worse, in my case) themselves.

I don't know why God is making it so hard for me to find real friends. Maybe it's his way to let me find the real remorse for those agnostic doings of mine. Well God, if ever you're reading this, I am so not an agnostic. I'm just questioning your existence because some physicist from CERN claims that you're just a universal force that's binding us all. You know I have a thing for physicists.

I have three emo-ish theories:

1. Maybe real friends do not exist. And by real, I mean friends who will never ever ever leave you. Of course, change is inevitable; but change isn't that powerful to banish away some people who care so much for you. That's the reason why some of us resort to imaginary friends. And/or turn into psycho killers

2. Good friends are so hard to find.


Yet it's harder to leave them. This one's very applicable if you really do have a good friend. The latter part can be excluded when you're as bitter as me.

3. Friends? What the hell are friends?


I thought I have a friend in you, *insert her name here*.

Turns out I was wrong. Or merely wronged.

But then again, I don't care.

I don't know why I'm still hoping that someone will be able to regain your old self. Maybe it's because of this stupid belief I still have in mind that you're my best friend, and best friends do not, in any other fucking way you may think of, treat each other this way. See, our last year in high school is supposed to be...I don't know..our 'bonding year'. But seeing that you chose to spend it with this someone I feel very convulsed with, I think it's best that we just go our own damn ways.

Sorry for being so selfish. I promise you that this will be the last time I'll bother you with my unconcerning thoughts. Thank you, ergo, for making me realize that imaginary friends are better than the real ones. They don't act so apathetically..

and neither do they betray.

Reconciling with you is the last thing I want to do. When you make a big mark on a piece of paper, there's just no way that you'd want to use the paper again. Maybe time will heal this wound in our friendship our other relationships with people have made, but time will also make us realize that there's more to life than moping and whining about what's happening to this friendship we've worked so hard on to cultivate. Thereafter, we will find new friends in college that will hopefully make us realize how stupid we really are. And maybe later on, it will all just be blamed to imbecility. Or not, because you're the smartest piece of ass I know.

Maybe we've spend too much time on each other. So yeah, this is more like of a sign that we should say goodbye. But I'm not saying goodbye, nor I am pressuring you to do so. Just take it from Barry Manilow's melancholic hits or something.

I just wish that I'll never experience this again. Losing a dear friend you've grown to love through high school is as excruciating as losing a family member.

Puff. Puff. Puff.

Thank you to the following people who are passively making me not think about this friendship thingamajig too much:

-Rachell Gozalez (for trying to outsmart my wrestling skills. You failed, you noob you)
-Jacque Topacio (for smelling like shit. No, really. Your scent from hell made my day)
-Juela Sanchez (PARE!)
-Patti Dela Concepcion (for disturbing me with your face and hairstyle. Nah, I'm just joking. It's really because of your friggin pimple that's freaking me out)
-Denise Santillan (pepang pepang pare. You give very witty advices, and I'm thankful for it.)
-Alex Castro (you know what happened 2 weeks ago at the swimming pool area. Emo/thesis talk, BEBE. Sampalin kita dyan!)
-Jessa Dasas (for nonetheless being a true homo. It's a wonder how you got in an all-girls' school)
-Nina Meily (for ALWAYS coping with my bipolarity. And being with me all the time.)
-Charlene Liwanag (for being my confidant and true friend through all of this.)
-my frontmates, Chelly Moseros, Janine New, and Jan Miguel (for..I dunno. You guys make me happy for no apparent reason. Maybe your hairs are funny. Or your back, because that's what I would frequently see unless you turn your backs around see the ugliness behind you)


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Oh hello there, iPhone.

Pictures will be posted when my Canon 40D finally arrives.

:) (eew)

And by the way, this is my 200th post.

Valentine's Day My Ass

Word, ain't it?

Anyways, it's probably too late to make a nonsensical entry about how sucky and absurd Valentine's day really is. I mean, if you come to think of it, Valentine's day really serves no purpose in this God-forsaken life of ours, aside from the fact that it depresses unattached people a lot. And by a lot, I mean a truckload of sadness is thus present - among single bastards and bitches, that is.

I skipped school today because of this BS migraine that's been killing my head (and consequently, my whole fatass system) all week long. This started last Sunday, by which I cannot remember how the hell it emerged, and what in the name of Satan triggered it to happen. All what matters is how my head really really really hurts today, and that my schizophrenia is on its peak.

So, to celebrate the notorious SAD yesterday, I ran stupid errands for my siblings. And besides buying colored candles and foil papers, I also went by Powerbooks to check out some new bestsellers because seriously, there's a shortage of good books at our household. There's the last installment of Harry Potter just under my sister's bed, and there's the my Sophie Kinsella collection, which dates back when I was still in sixth grade, and there's Jane Austen and Jodi Picoult. But damn, I don't really want to read things I've read already.

Non-conformity, please forgive me. I just bought a book that is absurdly famous.

TWILIGHT.

What the hell, right? I mean, screw rules. It's valentine's day anyway. Like anyone would really give a damn if I read something so incoherently sappy. And really, Twilight's actually good. I've already read about three-fourths of the weird book, and so far so....surpassingly stupendous. Edward Cullen's probably the most gorgeous male protagonist I've read about, and him being all vampire-y is the sexiest thing ever. I also like the idea of Edward liking a very normal girl like Belle.

Well, enough of this. I have to finish the damn book before the weekend hits. I don't want to catch up with the emotional fever the series have brought in our high school.

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Confiding what I've done a while ago is not really defeating the purpose of a blog, ain't it?

I smoked a damn death stick.

You've read that right. It's not some fantasy or dream that's been obviously recurring for the past few weeks. The reason why I probably did this is because of extreme curiosity. And I'm talking about reaaaal curiosity, because it hindered me from having normal dreams. Every single night since this started, I would always envision myself holding a cigarette, thereafter smoke it.

And I know that there's just one solution to it, which is of course doing the deed itself.

So yeah. Here are my utmost observations:

1. Smoking is not really addicting or whatever.
2. On the contrary, it's really boring, actually. It's like I'm just puffing from my inhaler, then exhaling the precious medicine out.
3. Its odor spreads like hell. Okay, so maybe smoking in the vicinity of your own room is a bad idea, but there isn't really any space in our house where you can smoke casually. I almost used up all of my sister's perfume just to make the damn smell go away.

That'll be the last time I'll smoke. Promise.


Or not..

Outgrowing Harry Potter

I just woke up from a deep slumber. Weird because, you know, I enjoyed the slumber. I think that I'm not even allowed to damn sleep because of the deadlines I have to meet this week. And its kinda cool to sleep late, you know. Dark circles with a minimum circumference of probably 4cm surrounding your eyes and flies accompanying you everywhere you go is definitely the way to go.

With this slumber, I came up with these reasons so as to explain why I slept at the wrong time again:

- I'm unusually lethargic yesterday. Oh screw it, I'm always lethargic. That fact is already unusual on its own.
- Making a powerpoint presentation for yesterday's thesis defense took a lot of time, thus making me sleep late. (This is so not true. I slept at like, 1 AM only.)
- I have to sleep because the world hates me so much, it is urging me to go to the nearest local store and buy cigarettes. (HA. This is very much true - if I'm slashing wrists and wearing black all the time and fixing my hair in a superlatively bizarre way, that is.)
- That sleep serves as our prize for finally putting a damn period to the overly-long sentence the thesis saga have made through the past couple of months of my senior year.
- Harry Potter sucked.

You know what? I actually think that the latter is really the reason why I slept on the wrong time. See, as I can remember, me and my brothers were watching the fifth installment of Harry Potter on dvd last night. And then just suddenly, I felt that my eyes are getting a lot heavier every damn minute because the stupid sandman keeps on pouring his specialty over it. In these cases, I don't really want to blame the poor sandman because, well, it's not really his fault if you look at it.

It's Harry Potter. I so knew it.

Christ, this is the 5th movie I've slept through this week, and the third time I slept in the middle part of a Harry Potter movie. That statement alone would just want to make me ask myself if something's wrong with me. I've been a Harry Potter fan since that faithful day my dad gave me my first Harry Potter book, which is indeed The Sorcerer's Stone. He owed me fifty friggin' pesos and he payed it off by a fucking book. At first I cursed my dad for doing so, because at those early times, I was not used to reading thick books (Well duh. I was only a 3rd grader at that time. I mean, reading Sweet Valley and Nancy Drew and them Hardy Boys is already too much for my age.). And probably because I'm very much in love with money when I was young. But as I forced myself to read the book, I learned to love it, to feel it, and to value it.

But now, it is very much obvious that I'm already outgrowing it. I know this is not much of an issue, because Harry Potter's just a book. Well, I don't know. This is the first book actually that I'm starting to outgrow, Dr. Seuss be so damned.

I hope this is a sign of a maturity. I was never ever able to watch the middle part of the fifth installment.

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Thesis Defense. Oh Joy.

Cramming for the powerpoint presentation for our thesis defense never felt so fucking good. As I click that exit icon on the upper right corner of Microsoft Powerpoint, I knew for sure that this will surely be the last time I'll be using the powerpoint for my senior year. Way to go, Lorainne. That's like, a one step for immaturity, and two steps for sentimentality. Just what you need for your thesis defense tomorrow.

The fact that we will be finally defending the fruit of my sleepless nights for a couple of nights is so exhilarating, it hasn't sinked in yet. So what the hell are we actually gonna do tomorrow anyway? I have been researching for videos of high school students being grilled by their panel at their respective thesis defenses, and I haven't been successful since the minute I typed 'high school thesis defense' in that infamous YouTube search bar. Oh just read between the friggin' lines: I don't know what the hell a thesis defense is.

I think it's just some sort of a reporting shit, where you blab and blab and blah blah blah about your damn study. Probably the only difference of this one to the other reportings I've done before is I'm way more classy with the clothes (corporate, duh) this time. And there's probably some extra-grilling, which I think I will not enjoy. I remember this one time during my freshmen year in high school when I actually considered to join the debate club, because I think I'm that good at defending stuffs, apparently because of the pseudo-hoax that I can always find a loophole through any problem.

Well..where the hell is it now?

I just wish that God would remember her prodigal daughter for once, and give back gifts she'd thrown away because she thought she doesn't need any of those. Like that handout about the Fundamental Counting Principle she got from review classes, and that love letter her first love gave to her. Oh screw the latter. I think the dog ate it anyway. And yeah, give her back that debating gift thingy. She apparently needs it tomorrow.

Good Luck to me. And my groups, too. And all the other groups who'll be having their thesis havocs tomorrow.

The drink's on me when all of this will finally end. I betcha.

Schizophrenia Madness

Lately I've been letting out my two personalities quite a lot. It starts in the morning, when something as irritating as the thought of our thesis and paperworks would suddenly pop out of somewhere. It would last till my brain finally settles down to an angle where it's comfortable to, then my usual ego would appear. I'm hating it, really.

I would frown and keep quiet for no reason at all when my alter schizoid would take place. I would just nod if one of my seatmates would ask if I'm alright, then I would act all proper and clean my place. After that, I would find everything unusually austere. I don't really know who the hell I truly am when my sterile ego butts in. I am neither the owner of this blog, or a conceited fatass. I am neither Oyen, or some laughing megalomaniac. I am neither someone who lacks social skills, or a bothersome jackass.

I become a nobody.

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I've finished reading this nifty synopsis of George Orwell's 1984 a while ago. Of all of the mandatory novels I've read for English class, 1984 is exactly the only one that is mind-gripping, and can make you hungry for more action. It may not be as good as Mario Puzo's The Godfather series, or as suspenseful as Dan Brown's Digital Fortress, however, it's so well-written that I want to have a copy of the whole book so badly.

I want to write what's 1984 all about, but that doing so would kill the readers of this trashy blog because of boredom, at the least.

And besides, nobody's that obsessed to a damn novel anyway.

--------------------------

Watching the toilet flush my shit down is probably my realization moment. It makes me wonder how a thing like that of the toilet can eat up a gunk of feces in a snap. As I watch my shit that was being sucked down, I come to think of the availability of an apparatus that can suck gunks of life's craps.

That would be so fucking cool.

I mean, if you come to think of it, life will not suck if it weren't for life's shit. It's a burden why we have to act like huge toilets and suck it all up. It's such a friggin burden too why we have excessively emotional people to drag us all to dread about it (READ: emo kids).

Here is a short list of craps of life I wish some nice toilet invented by a brainiac (make that a MAC brainiac) would suck up:

-backstabbing friends (what an irony)
-former boyfriends/acquaintances (you cannot, for the love of God, build a simple friendship with them without mentioning the miserable past.)
-love (it will never ever make our world go round. damn those powerpuff girls.)
-theses (and the like)
-conceptual subjects
-damn cheaters (in all aspects, that is)
-BILL GATES

I can't ponder enough reasons why these things should exist further.

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I Just Blogged 5

The moment I woke up yesterday after a precious doze of 2 hours, I promised to myself that I will not, for the love of God, open the computer and get lost in cyberspace again. It's amazing how addicting the internet truly is. Click here, click there, clicking everywhere.

But yeah. Obviously, I like making promises, then go break them in the end. Hypocrite.

Anyways, I skipped the two periods of my class today. Primarily because I'm friggin stressed, and with an hour of sleep (well, if you call it a sleep, that is) each day is not working. It's kinda surprising how I manage to brush my teeth a while ago, really. I've not been my apathy-filled self lately, and God knows its the thesis' fault. It took me an hour to realize yesterday that my bottled water is empty, and what I'm gulping down is not of water, but of my own damn saliva. I told you cramming makes people insane.

I feel kinda guilty for..you know..skipping class. See, I'm not very much used to breaking school rules ever since I was a kid. Not that I have a totalitarian dad imposing strict house rules every now and then (like hello, my dad's not even here to begin with), but getting caught of breaking them rules disturbs me to death. Of all the school rules I've broken, I've only been caught once. I instantly got out of it because of school connections.

Well, what's of all of that to them, right?

So here. Updates on my misanthropic life:

1. I got my report card yesterday. All of them figures zoomed up except for Physics. I lost 1 fucking point because of Mechanics. See, if we had just discussed George Ohm and his lonely life for the third quarter, this will not happen. And yeah, I'm still not gonna get a damn academic award for all of it. The Chinese hag shall be blamed, and be executed right there and then. But unlike my bitter account about all of it during the second quarter, it kinda felt this time that I don't really deserve to never be an academic awardee, probably because of my incessant slacking off.

2. It took me a week to get over my second quarter grades. It took me 10 hours of scrumptious sleep to get over my useless grades. And now, I ergo conclude that a point has been added to my 'Maturity' scoreboard. A minus one of course for the 'Grade Conscious' one.

3. The pseudo-feud between me and my close friend has finally come to an end. On the other hand, it still feels kinda awkward when we're together. Maybe that's the aftermath of a fight or something.

4. My cough is seriously on its peak. I've been barking like a dog since yesterday and little by little, I'm losing my voice. The latter part is evidently a good thing.

So yeah. Nothing out of the ordinary seems to be taking a toll on my life right now. If God ever decides to talk to me and confirm that I am, therefore, a psychotic introvert, I'll tell you right away.

Bronchial What?

Today I proved the fact that you can walk a mile even if you forgot your inhaler in your classroom. You just have to start to loathe a close friend, then clear everything out of your mind. Well at least in my case that's exactly what happened a while ago.

This day is, actually, the most fortunate day of the week. It started out NOT fine (with finding out that we were only able to get 25% of our total population for our thesis, and my disturbing tubercolosis-level cough), but thanks to the 4-percentile margin of error and my Physics teacher's sweet 'yes' to the question that has been crawling around my neck ever since that day I did not pass the ACET(Miss, will you please make me a letter of appeal?), this day can actually be superb in more ways than one.

So yeah, right after last period, I hurried off out of the school to get home quickly. I found the bus, chit-chatted with Ira for quite some time, then figured out that my close friend would probably go down too to leave her things or something. And so, I got off the bus again with - get this - nothing in my mind. Nothing, as in blank, except for this kept hatred hidden in my pituitary glands.

I went down the slope near Brent International School, turned left..and that's probably when I stopped thinking about how much I hate my life right now. The next thing I knew, I was already in front of Tiendesitas, breathing very heavily and hailing 2-3 cabs per minute. I swear I was surprised myself when I saw this huge cemented wall beside me. And this big highway in front of me connecting Pasig and Quezon City. And a lot of cars. And gigantic Optimus Prime-like trucks.

Boy, was I drunk? Did that melon juice entered my adrenal glands again? Jesus.

When a taxi who was kind enough to stop and let me in came, I hurriedly went inside. I can feel my limbs giving up, and my heart exploding. It's like I want to cry so loud, because I cannot understand myself. The stupid driver kept looking at me, which is a bad thing, actually. I cannot let out my dramatic alter ego because of his dumb stares. So yeah, instead of thinking how the hell was I able to cover almost half of c-5 just by walking and how I find the driver ultimately disturbing, I thought of worst case scenarios instead:

-Be caught commuting by a nun
-Be caught commuting by a teacher
-Be caught commuting by a teacher I know
-Be caught commuting by The Boy
-Be caught commuting by that friend I'm trying so hard to run away from
-Be caught commuting by mom
-Be caught commuting by a friend of my mom
-Be caught commuting by a friend
-Be caught commuting by a classmate
-Be caught commuting by the school bus driver

I nervously laughed it off, actually. I mean, these are very unlikely to happen anyway. And when it does, I can always conceal myself using a paper and a rubber band; just tie the paper around with the rubber face, and voila! They won't really know me unless they have x-ray powers or something like that.

Finally, the cab dropped me off in that area where I would usually ride a tricycle that would take me home. I hastily went in, and just when the driver was starting his to move, I saw a very familiar vehicle heading towards the same direction as we were.

Oh my friggin' God.

It's the fucking school bus. How the hell were they able to catch up?

That whole moment where the bus is just beside the tricycle and I was hiding behind my nifty backpack turned out to be very excruciating. Nonetheless, it was one hell of an experience. My heart almost busted out because of excitement. It's like reading an R.L Stine book with that dumb Choose Your Adventure theme; you won't really have a damn idea what will happen next.

And you know what? All of that shit I went through made me realize that I can be so friggin' selfish and insensitive. I cannot defend my own side, because all of those are immaturely non-sequitur. I just made up reasons so as to get mad at somebody who's keeping me stressed for the past few weeks. I've been very disturbed lately and all I can do is let everyone know it.

Even you, bloggy.

So yeah. I'm sorry, but that's just how I am these days. If I'm disappointed, then I'm disappointed. I won't pretend anymore that I'm in favor of how things are going, because that'll be improper.

Fat and Friends

What is not relatively new is the fact that I am, indeed, a fatass. My thighs are so huge its as big as a normal-sized lady's waistline, which is more or less 25. My arms are so enormous, they're as big as my brother's thighs (my brother is 50kg full of fat, thank you very much.). My belly's bigger than my breasts. I have a very fat pizza-like face.

Now you know how fat I am.

It sucks being fat. It really does. I mean, I can't even blurt out how gargantuan I am in public, for the fear that people might actually agree and thus consequently nod their heads in approval. One time when I was talking to this classmate who was complaining about how fat her thighs are (which is far from true. Her thighs are thin sticks, trust me.), I just suddenly blurted out "Well, uh, if they're actually big, then what exactly is the size of mine?". She looked at my thighs intently for quite a few seconds, then went "You don't hang out with boys anyway.". I told you people would agree.

It sucks being fat. I've never stared in front of mirror without thinking how big I truly am. I've never realized how fat I've gotten until mom had the doors of our cabinet replaced with sliding mirrors, much to my dismay. Everytime I would just stand there and fix my hair, my eyes, would always avert downwards, going to the direction of my thighs, going up to the sides to my arms, then back to my fugly face. When this would occur (which is like, incessantly), I would think of dieting, and/or skipping meals by throwing my wallet and other valuable stuffs out of the window so as to not spend them for food. I would think of exercising my butt off by paying my long-overdue gym bills and seriously get back at the treadmills and the machines. I would think of how morbidly obese I am, and wonder why I even have friends with this ever-gigantic body I'm in.

You know sometimes, I feel like I'm a lost soul in a wrong body(Jesus. It's about time.). It makes me wonder what would happen if I was trapped in a normal-sized body instead of this pig-like physique. I'll probably have a spanking social life. I'll probably have more clothes. I'll probably be better at Physics and Math. I've probably passed all the universities I've applied into. I'll probably be...divirginized?(WTF)

Oh hell no.

Maybe that's the brighter side of being fat. You can keep your virginity until someone who's eccentric enough to have sex with an ant will come.

But still, being fat just really fucking sucks.

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I've never loathed school this much.

Actually, it's not really the school per se which is bugging me, but the people in it.

You know, people you thought you will never hate because they seem to have entered your personal life; people called..friends.

Yet again, I still don't know what the hell is wrong with me. As you have probably read in my previous post, I wanted to ignore somebody who betrayed me in an obscure way. She talked me out of it (Well, not exactly. I told my plans to her after realizing how I was being all juvenile.), and for quite a few days, I kinda pretended that everything was definitely okay between us.

Shit happens.

From now on, I will try to not communicate with her in any other way. I guess I have to go on my own way, like that kid from High School Musical said (more like sang, but the song was so crappy I don't even want to mention it.).

I know I'm being superlatively puerile and insensitive and all, but I know I'm doing the right thing for myself for ONCE in my whole fucking life. She doesn't need me, I'm trying my best to not need her (which has been very hard for the past few high school years). That's basically it. Sketch a story out of it and voila! There you have a crappy and busted conflict that's been bugging me since last year.

Note: This is not a lesbo fantasy or whatsoever.

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Ache was talking about how excited she is to graduate and go to college already. Even my other classmates are fantasizing about our next major step for our education, which is college life. Well, I can't help but feel the same way. I mean duh. A day wouldn't pass by without somebody asking where you'll go and study after graduation. Not that its annoying, but..oh well, it IS getting kinda annoying. If you're in my case (you only passed two universities; one is your fall-back school, one is some school you'll be using to get into somewhere you weren't able to get into, like heaven, or UP.)

I am very much excited myself too. Hello college! I don't have to wear a damn uniform anymore. I don't have to follow unbelievably authoritarian rules anymore. I don't have to stay in school for the whole damn day anymore.

I don't have to be that obese and push-over girl anymore. Oh, what a joy. Time to get back at them high school gee-dee-bees.

I sure can't wait.

Indifference

Alright already, ok? I didn't go to the freakin' concert because the fair itself made me agoraphobic on the spot. Not only that, I hate seeing people I don't really want to see nowadays. It makes me so irritated to see them when I walk past school corridors, and yeah, I'll probably emerge into my inner Incredible Hulk when I see them more at the concert.

This is why no one should ever make a crucial chapter of any thesis by herself. Jesus. I made that chapter weeks ago already, and its deadly effect is still taking a serious toll on me. My schizophrenia have reached its peak, and its a wonder I can still talk here in my own ego, not the altered one. Nonetheless, people I know can't really tell the difference that staying up late to make yellow-colored graphs made. In fact, I think that nobody really cares for me these days. Not that I give a damn if they do, or anything. But I wish I have some confidant other than Charlene whom I've been bombarding with my 'recon' problems with some university.

Oh, alright then. I'll blab it here.

After having my first rejection from Ateneo, I was trying to shrug that heavy weight it brought to my shoulders every time someone would remind me how cool it is to study there. This has become so incessant ever since the fifth of January, primarily because people cannot, for the love of God, just shut up all about it. And with its repetitive fury against me, it consequently became more or less easy for me to just forget all about it. I mean, I for one can't give any apparent reason why I should file a so-called 'motion for reconsideration', so why would I? And besides, doing such takes some deliberate pride-eating. You people know very well that I have damn issues with my pride. It's my soul food.

Last week my mom had suddenly reminisced my bittersweet rejection from Ateneo, and thus forced me to beg the Director of the admissions department of the said school to reconsider my application. In times like these, I had nothing left to do but blurt out to my mom something like 'Why the hell would I do that?" or something so dramatic like "You just don't understand! I don't belong there!", complete with a walkout, of course.

And from that day forward, she is still insisting me to do so. I told her a week ago that I can get my Physics teacher to help me in my letter of appeal to shut her up about it because its been bothering me so much. Oh, and yeah, get this - she baked my Physics teacher a box of oatmeal bars. Luckily enough, I wasn't able to take the box to school because I had so many things with me last Thursday.

I don't really know what to do now.

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It's a bit unfair how some people can change a person, but you can't. You know that saying, 'You can't change a person'? Oh I so hate that. It's not really in the matter of ability or whatsoever, but probably in the matter of who can actually change people. You know, something like human rights or something.

Well, maybe that's the way things really go. I sure can't accept changes in a good way, let alone changes in people.

What I don't understand is why people would make promises in the first place, then go break them afterwards. Isn't that a bit stupid and hypocritic? It's like building a skyscraper and breaking it down 4 months after.

You shouldn't have made a damn promise in the beginning, you fucking hypocrite you.

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I wrote these in my planner weeks ago:

People who wish to just fly aren't psychotic. Sometimes, flying is the only solution one can think of to escape the perks of reality; burdens are under you, instead of being over you. That makes it a lot lighter, ain't it? And yeah, I so want to fly. And die. Oh God.

In reality, a person who's much more of a smartass is susceptible of acknowledging more of what he/she can't do, rather than those things that uses his/her brain cells. With this way, he/she will strive to be more with a good morale. See, if you can't acknowledge your zero-brain cells alter ego, you're just technically filled with pride and crap. And that sucks, obviously.

At the end of the day, the line that separates love and infatuation is non-existent, What simply matters is you're letting those butterflies fly in your stomach to your heart's content. Well, at least you're happy, right?

A letter to MYSELF
January 14, 2008
3:15 AM

Dear Lorainne,

God knows why you're still up in this early time of the day. You have two things to blame: yourself, and/or your groupmates. I know for sure that you'll choose your groupmates, but please. Stop being such a push-over already. For Christ's sake you weigh at least a ton right there, so stop acting so bullcrappy. Next time, learn how to tell people what they have to do. And yeah. Push 'em real hard, you fucking bouncer T-Pain aficionado you. And another thing, please get a goddamn life.

Love,
Oyen (your long-lost alter ego)

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I need to ignore some people.

How I Loathe Thee

Why do people say that it’s the thought that counts all the time? It’s getting stupendously irritating when they would always blurt that out when you would give something so ugly to somebody (Ugly people deserve ugly gifts. That’s primary logic for you.).

When I was still in grade school, I gave my imperious classmate this butt-ugly keychain of a Disney character for Christmas. And by butt-ugly, I mean really fucking ugly. See, that Disney character is supposed to be Stitch of the movie Lilo and Stitch. And as it turned out to be divisoria’d, Stitch, who is naturally blue, became as yellow as a corn. His eyes that were supposed to be black became apple green, much to my surprise. What the hell. Somebody messed up the damn time machine again and brought some retro monster to the future.

And for sure, the stupid classmate cried (for reasons that I still have to know) and blabbed all about it to our adviser. The damn teacher called me to her table where my classmate who was crying as hell was hanging out. As I remember, this is how the conversation went:

Stupid Classmate: Ayan po o, miss! Niregaluhan po ako ng pekeng Stitch!
Me: Ulul!
Stupid Classmate: Ayan tignan nyo po o! Nagbabad-words! Ipakulong nyo na po!
Teacher: O tama na yan. Ikaw naman kase Ann,(Oh fuck my juvenile ego, alright. People back then used to call me my first name because my second name seems to be a little complex. Jesus. What is so difficult with pronouncing 2 goddamn syllables?) bakit naman nakakatakot na monster yung binigay mo?
Me: Eh yan lang po yung nakaya ng nanay ko bilhin eh. Sorry po. (This is truly a hoax. I gave my other classmates high-rolling gifts, and yeah. She deserved to get a 5-peso keychain of Stitch’s retro cuzzin.)
Teacher: Ah eh ganun naman pala eh. Pagbigyan mo na, iha. At least naalala ka nya, di ba? It’s the thought that counts naman eh.
Me: Oo nga naman.
Stupid Classmate: Hindi po totoo yun! Mayaman po yan eh! Wag po kayo maniwala dyan!

It was funny, really. That classmate never treated me the same way again. I gave her a loot bag full of crappy candies for our farewell party for her drastic change.

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A while ago while cleaning our classroom, I've realized how lucky I was, in terms of some behavioral and maturity aspect.

While I was fixing the things of my classmates, I arrived to a damn conclusion that I entered the wrong school for my high school education. Sure, the place is wonderful because of so many physical things; it has countless buildings, unlike that of my previous school, which only has a total of 5 (or 6, if you count the church nearby which we frequently used for different masses.) small and cheap-ass constructions. It provides quality education that can give those kids at science high schools a run for their money. It is known to be one those exclusive institutions that has a very high standard among its stockholders. And yeah, it is also an excellent foundation for kids of the middle to upper classes of the Philippine society.

It may appear to you that my school is everybody's dream school. I thought so too, but that was before I became an Environmental-Friendly Committee Chairman of my class. Before then, I thought that I was very much fortunate that my parents enrolled me to a school that makes my previous school a shithole.

Some people in my school just don't know how to clean their dirt. If I had a dollar for each wrapper of some food I picked up a while ago, I'd be filthy rich by now. All of that incongruity makes me ask myself if it's really THAT difficult to place that dirt in a trash can. Are their nerves swollen, or something? How about their fingers? Are those experiencing some muscular cramp like that of I would usually get during GIFT time? It makes me wonder why these people are susceptible of cleaning their body, and not their surroundings.

Much to their convenience, my classmates know that I have not been assigning cleaners for different parts of the classroom for the past few months. I mean, what the hell is the point of doing such if nobody will abide to it? That's the most stupid thing one can do, evidently. I know I may have not some golden ticket to top universities here in the metro, but I know for sure that making people clean in that way will never ever make them clean.

So what did I do instead?

Nothing, of course. I was their all-around cleaner for a small number of months; cleaning the washroom as good as I can, providing the trash can (which was stolen later on), erasing the board, sweeping fucking dirt on the floor, and arranging chairs. Oh sure, my job seemed to be so small to be acknowledged anyway. Even our adviser hardly reminds me to do my job. With this, I've come to a conclusion that I am, indeed, a pushover. How ironic for someone who has a bouncer-like build, huh?

With that, people would complain how dirty everything is. The washroom, the floor, the cabinet..the everything. And who are they to blame but me, right? I don't even have the right ro retort or whatsoever in the beginning. For a senior student, one can only normally juggle their way through graduation with only two things: college and school requirements. But I was juggling three; the aforementioned two, plus the dirty classroom. I have to do so many things, which is not really all that apparent from my juvenile blog posts. I did the whole chapter two and three and four of our thesis, and the juicy and crucial parts of our Physics investigatory project. Obviously, will you be able to clean the room by yourself with all of those goddamn things on your mind? I know I have my own committee, but it's as if they don't care anyway.

Mom told me that our room is dirty because I'm disorganized. Well, to everyone who thinks the same way as my mom, look at me. Seriously. Right now, I am still so stressed with all of those schoolworks I did. I have reasons, duh. I became more stressed a while ago as I've realized that people can be so physiologically immature about stuffs.

I'm not really fond of comparing stuffs because the mere action of it is puerile, but if you're in my shoes, it's quite inevitable to do so. In my previous school, people know how to clean. In fact, that's where I learned to sweep fabulously and consequently scoop dirt to the dust pan. It is also where I learned to scrub tiles make them white as hell. I can't believe my grade school made me more mature than my high school.

At the end of the day, it's not really where you study that matters. Instead, it all comes down to those people you are studying with. Neat buildings and a whopping tuition with people who cannot wipe their own asses is a joke compared to a cheap school with people who are able to not only wipe their own asses, but wipe other's asses' too.

(This long litany is caused by alcohol. All of this scum was brought to you by no more than Jack Daniel himself.)

No Emo Shit

Today I've realized that I am so f-ing tired of things I am practically doing, if not everything. The stupid Talentfest sure made reality smack right into my face; I'm no swimmer, and I'll never ever be. This happens to be true because of two pseudo-related things. I'm fat, for crying out loud. Physics would explain this in four words: more mass, more inertia. Or if simply put into English, it means that there is a direct relationship between my mass, and my speed. And another thing, I'm very prone to my own death when I'm in the pool. This is caused by my bronchial spasms that occur when I'm extremely nervous or tired, and/or people who throw stuffs at you when you're being a damn pig by swimming so slow (well, sort of. ).

If those things are still not enough to drag me out of the pool, then I must be insane.

I'm just so tired. I'm tired of logging in for my three email accounts, and hoping that there is a personal message from The Boy. I'm tired of pretending that everything's alright between me and my best friend. I'm tired of planning to diet, because none of those gets fulfilled anyway. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of getting mixed signals. I'm tired of my irritating classmate, Chelly Moseros. I'm tired of dreaming to be a smart person. I'm tired of doing our thesis by myself. I'm tired of thinking that I'll be that engineer I'm aspiring to be one day. I'm tired of swimming. I'm tired of listening to my bisexual-wannabe coach. I'm tired of pretending to be so interested in anything, at the very least. I'm tired of seeing my typographically-error-ed name in Pauliworld, that big time campus newspaper I was able to get into. I'm tired of hating that classmate who just intimidates me for her own fucking good.

I'm tired of blogging, because it's like having an imaginary friend or something. I talk and talk and talk and talk, but really, who am I even talking to in the very first place? My own soul is not even listening to my own thoughts anymore.

Sometimes, I decisively think of just quitting those shits I'm tired of. These things are not ideally important anyway. I mean, what's the point of holding on to something you're extremely suffering from? Unless you're a martyr, it's a given fact that you have to let go of things that wear the hell out of you.

If the fact that I've already committed 2 major offenses in school ever since the start of the classes a week ago is still not enough for you to know where my weariness can lead to, then you're heartless.


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Spidey?

I have a life, and that life is filled with school problems, like the fact that we will have a quiz on momentum tomorrow (which of all topics I've advanced-studied in Physics, I don't really get the idea of this one at all.), and we have some swimming competition on Friday. But I don't quite get it why I'm blogging for two days in a row already, amidst my 'sort-of' busy schedule. I probably need to get another kind of life. Social, will work, actually.

Anyways, our English teacher was not around during fourth period. So, as always, we were given yet another cheesy seatwork that was concerned with that movie we had recently finished watching, which is Spiderman 2. We were to write a short paragraph consisting of 10-12 sentences, and four idiomatic expressions from some magazine, and yeah, it has to be about the movie, duh. I don't know what was wrong with me during fourth period, because I was hyperactive as hell. I kept belting out 80's hits (with dance), and God, were my seatmates annoyed or what. So there. I write good when I'm high with barbeque powder, probably, so here's the stupid paragraph I wrote for the seatwork.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm Spiderman. Well, not exactly. I feel a LOT like Spiderman. Like him, I only have one goal; to help my parents in providing my siblings their well-deserved fine education. Sure, Spiderman's goal is nowhere near mine, but if you come to think of it, we both want to help people. The villains are our last straw(in my case, it's not getting the right solution for stuffs). Our last ditch-efforts and last resorts for these annoyances that seriously got in our nerves are always systematic(although Mr. Spidey's flexibility can make me envy him to pieces, It's not MY fault I'm too fat to be injected with some spider saliva). And yeah, in the end, we would always have the last laugh. All of these similarities makes me ponder so much if I am Spiderman's fat twin or something. But then again, all of it boils down to the conclusion that when you have a good ambition to begin with, you WILL win in any step you take. But make sure it's good and systematic like ours, or else you will end up like that weird Dr, Octavius.

I know it sucks, but it has become so f-ing rare that I can think and write like this while I'm at school. Usually, my mind is always crammed with deadlines and friendship problems. But that was sure not that case today.

Anyways, I'm crossing my fingers for another day of extreme euphoria.

Oh, and by the way, we're going to move to a new 'mansion'(as my mom puts it into her own egotistical words) in March. Not that you need to know, or anything (well I told you I'm cocky.).

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I just don't get myself sometimes.

I have issues and...

crap. I lost it.

It Sucks

Boy, whoever invented the word 'suck' deserves some yummy Pulitzer goodness. 'Sucks' pretty much describes everything and everyone that doesn't come close to your standards. Imagine, if we didn't have that word, everything would be so f-ing complex and philosophically deep.

On not passing the UPCAT..

W/o the 'golden word': I guess I did not meet the standards of the prestigious university.
With the 'golden word': I guess I suck.

See the enormous difference?

Anyway, you might ask why the hell I am blabbing about my favorite stereotype, which is the suckiness of everything. I don't have a clue neither. All I know is my cousin will be going to the same university that I will enroll in and..get this..we have the same damn course. I mean, how sucky is that? Here I am, dreaming to find my inner Engineer Gandhi with persons I barely know, and here comes some cousin from the province who hardly speaks Filipino. I want to die instead, thank you.

Since I'm utterly bored and in a constant refusal to sleep amidst the fact that I crammed my way into finishing the fourth chapter of our thesis by myself, I'm going to make a list of finishers for the title of this post.

IT SUCKS..

...to know that it's too damn late to study seriously anymore. Primarily because anything that has to do with the latter is not considered anymore. Seriously. Do you think that everyone will give an ass if you graduate from law school and med school a month before you die? Yeah, they will, if you have a guarantee that you'll be reincarnated, which is beyond possible.

...when people just cannot shut the hell up about what schools they were able to get into. I know for one that I am one of these uncivilized kinds, but at least I KNOW it. Whenever I get too cocky, I will admit it before you can even scratch your butt cheek. But oh, Jesus. Please forgive these bitches who cannot keep a low-profile for one day. I'm not going to call them attention whores or anything (because duh. I am one myself.). I'll just pray that they turn into farm animals one day. That'll be good.

...when your parents give you permission to do stuffs that are practically wrong in every sense, like getting a tattoo or drinking your brains out. I admit; (we ALL do)the only reason worth living for are those things that are restricted or something.

...when those dancing moms from Malaysia in Amazing Race Asia 2 get into Marc and Rovilson's way. God, they sure suck on their own. I don't even get it why two moms should form a partnership, if their expertise is only dancing. Why can't they just go on as 'friends', or lifetime partners? I would totally understand their lesbian case (well duh.). Their husbands won't, I'm afraid.

...when you feel so enthusiastic at the former part of a blog entry, then after a few words, you would feel lethargy creeping through your neurons. That's why it'll end in this way.

I Just Blogged 4

One thing that the school gave me that I benefited from is superbly the lethargy. My old sleeping habit's back, and there's no more reason for me to wake up so damn early then not go back to sleep till I come home from school. Yeah, you read that right. My eyes are finally tired from all those sleepless nights it went through the whole duration of the Christmas vacation.

But then again, I want my school sleepiness to just get the hell away and let me have an excuse to sleep through my subjects. I mean, we're barely 3 months away from graduation anyway. And I already have an unwanted school that I'll get dumped in next school year. Need I say more? I go to school not because I want to, but because of that stupid diploma that will serve as my one-way ticket out of my hellhole high school. So yeah. No more reason to listen to that old Mandarin teacher who've been blabbing about how we suck at Mandarin and because of it, we wouldn't be able to enter Ateneo or La Salle. Well think again, you conceited Chinese hag.

Exam results were..kinda okay. Turns out my original psychopathic solution for that word problem in the Physics exam that has to do with fucking asphalt roads (of ALL things). My Physics teacher even checked my immature solution that's nowhere to be found in that word problem page, but was thus written somewhere so nicely hidden. It was good, and irritating.

It's kinda funny how my life turns very similarly to that Physics shiznit. Not that you need to know, or anything. But it's weird how some hefty logical skill can pretty much change how things go. 6000 N is my original answer for the frictional force of the damn truck. But because I'm so logical, I settled for the fact that there was no frictional force indeed.

Wait. I'm not even allowed to say that here. Well, whatever.

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Alyssa called to tell me that I did not pass the UPCAT.

What better way to get me started on doing the fourth chapter of our thesis. People should do that often. You know, crush your dreams before you do something important. It kinda helps, actually, minus that awkward moment when your mouth just quivers and you think silently ponder about it or something. But all in all, that technique is quite good.

My relatives are really insisting me to go the Ateneo and beg the director to reconsider my application. Don't they just get it? I don't belong somewhere so fancy-schmancy like that school. After molding up my emotions while they're all blabbing at me at the same time why I don't want to study there, I busted out of nowhere "WHAT THE HELL! I don't want to go to Ateneo, okay? You know, sometimes, I think that my brain is better off at somewhere like STI or AMA or whatever low-profile school you can think of. At least I will not have a hard time pretending to be someone I'm not. If it weren't for pride, then I would've considered not going to college anymore."

As of this writing, my dreams are now revised to the following format:

1. After the much-awaited graduation day, I will enroll myself in a swimming school. And maybe I will go back to doing runs on nice treadmills again, now that my favorite gym is now being relocated to a mall near our house. I am not doing this because I'm hungry for my personal trainer or whatnot, but because I weigh a ton and my chin has been reproducing itself quite a lot these days.

2. I have decided; I will enroll to DLSU for my freshmen year. After 3 semesters, I will thus transfer to that university where I think I belong. I will not tell what the fucking university is. You figure it out yourself.

3. I will leave this rotten house and go live in a dormitory/condominium near DLSU. I will have a bisexual rommate and I will not change my sexual orientation because of her.

4. I will not have a boyfriend because by then I will be too damn fat, I'll probably disown myself.

5. I will study very very very hard because I want to get into that university so badly. Maybe at this time, I am not deserving to enter its premises. But I'll make sure that after my freshmen year, they'll be the ones begging me to go there. You betcha.

The only sure thing in this list is number four, really. Besides the fact that I cannot see myself in any other university other than that school I so want to get into, my late-bloomer antics will probably take its toll again. But this time, it'll ruin my freshmen year, leading me to fail a lot of subjects. My fingers are sort of...crossed.

REJECTED

Oh yes. You've probably though of the idea before. You know, me being all rejected from Ateneo and all. What's funny is this actually came true. So much for a public display of my damn pride.

I saw only one 'Paragas' from the posted list beside the Blue Eagle gym. Kismet really has its own way of making things more heartbreaking, isn't it? That one Paragas used to be my schoolmate and classmate way back grade school. And who am I to blame besides my unreliable brain anyway? Eula(that's her name), made it with a communication-something course I have no intention of knowing. Yeah well she's freakin' smart anyway. My grandfather would always compare me to her, and would always wonder why she's so intelligent and I'm..I'm..I'm a failure. I hate craps like that. I mean, she's not even probably my 8th degree cousin or something and people keep measuring our brains like we're Siamese twins (which is so fucking unlikely).

Well anyway, before I start ranting how happy I still am amidst the fact that I was not accepted in Ateneo, I will give you a word of warning. Whatever licking style you may do in every word I will say, you will not taste a tinge of sourgrape. I. Am. Not. Sourgraping. I've told you all people before that I do not like to study in Ateneo. I have my own reasons, which I will be elucidating later, and/or in the near future. Alright?

Personally, Ateneo de Manila University gives me a very concrete impression of what it really is. If you put it into words, it will all just contain..'hard to get'. Perhaps that is one of those perfect reasons why people are so desperate to go there. The ACET is difficult, the tuition is difficult, and probably the people there may also be difficult (in given situations, that is). Everything is difficult, unlike UP, UST, or La Salle. In the latter parts of the previous year, I've later on realized that getting in a perfect college like Ateneo will make me, hence the coined term, perfect. So as to say, I became very interested in getting in the perfect university. Dad didn't made it there, so I was hoping I can relive his dream. Not for me, not for my friends, but for my father.

After making it in Mapua, I then pondered on the reason for why the hell do I want to go there anyway. For myself to be a perfect engineer/physicist? For my dad to brag about it to his officemates? For everyone to be proud of a big slob like me? If that's the case, then I think I'm missing the whole point of college, which is still education. Will Ateneo even help me find out who I really am (with its socially-clad and upper-class students? Heh. I don't really think so.), and what I am destined to be? At this point, you are probably thinking that I should like, go to a mental institution or some convent with this soul-searching thing I have. Well, you're probably right. I'll think about it.

At the end of the day, your choice of school does not really matter. So what if you did not pass their test? You've probably been dreaming for Ateneo or La Salle or whatever school all your freakin' life. Not being able to be accepted is an ass, I know. But it makes all things clear that it is not in God's will that you really go there. Maybe, just maybe, Ateneo will not make me the person I want to be (because after all, engineering is not really one of their fortes); A fucking Z-list engineer. Ooh. Sounds nice.

God does not want me to suffer the extreme consequences of not being able to stand up for myself in a school that does not only test your brains, or your parent's wallet. I know he wants me to go to a school where I can shine and show people that I can be Eula. He wants me to go somewhere my personality is best suited for. He wants me to go to..UP?

Ha. Yeah-freakin-right. I think I belong there, really.

But if all else fails, I think I'll just go to DLSU, where most of my friends are. At least I'll have someone to talk to in my first day, and not experience the trauma of being a first-day-till-last-day loner. Although I am indeed an introvert, I'm still a blabbermouth. I can't stop talking for at least half an hour.

It's funny and stupendous how people are more surprised and disappointed that you didn't pass, rather than them thinking that you deserve it(to be rejected) because you're not really that smart anyway. I like that crap.

Congratulations to all those who passed! You guys truly deserve it. And for those who didn't make it like yours truly, we can still transfer next year, hopefully.

Oh and by the way, if ever I pass UP-Diliman, all of you are invited to my 3-day booze extravaganza, which will be held at our street park. We will be drinking non-stop for three fucking days! Damn. That'll be good.

Potential School Number 2

I uhh..passed?

Not that I did not like it, or something. It's just that my reaction wasn't as ecstatic as it was when I passed that entrance examination for Mapua. Jesus. I laughed like a megalomaniac the minute that webpage from heaven landed right on monitor. The first cut really is the deepest, and up to this point, I'm still considering Mapua. I must be crazy(well, what the hell is new nowadays anyway? The next thing you might probably know is I'm getting it on with King Kong or my bathroom door.)

Another reason why this isn't much of a big deal is the whole household's response to the not-so-new news. For the first exam that I was able to pass, I actually called all the people living under our roof to go and see for themselves why I was screaming like hell. Being the apathetic that they all are, they just shrugged it off and didn't even congratulate me. Now for passing the DLSU-CET, I even thanked myself for not blurting anything concerned about this to any of my sibling and my mom. My mom 'accidentally' clicked the screenshot that I saved at the desktop and God have mercy on my mom and look at what she said:

Mom: Oh. You passed La Salle.
Me: Um. I guess.
Mom: So that means you have to go there by yourself now.

Now first of all, that's the most blurred-out sentence I've ever heard. I mean, why will I even go there in the first place anyway? Unless I decide to study there, which is nowhere to be found in my to-do list. Secondly, why is she being so apathetic and not even bothering to congratulate me? Oh sure. The daughter her friend's friend who took the exam 2 years ago probably made it look like as easy as wiping someone's shit-filled ass. But please. I know it was that easy and all, but can she just be at least happy that I used all of my brain cells just so I can pass that crap? Damn.

I emailed my dad the same screen shot above exactly ten hours after I saw it in the first time. His reaction made my day.

Dad: Yahoo!!!!! congrats..believe na talaga ako sa iyo :)

See, that's why I like my dad. I know he has bazillions of dollars hidden under his bed up there in Europe that can easily get me into an Ivy of my choice, but he doesn't want to because he is selfish and phony in that way. But at least he's being so supportive of me. I'll probably end up like him when I grow up. You know, be a computer engineer and a European gigolo at the same time. Sweet.

I'm still not enthused. Nevertheless, I'm still thankful that I got myself a second potential school for my collegiate education in five months' time.

ACET results will be out on Saturday, and my fingers are so crossed.

Anyways, congratulations to all those who passed the DLSU-CET too. Animo La Salle, anyone?

Last Call

Jake Lopez.
I can't believe his show is over, and I will not be hearing that ultra-macho and sexy voice filled with sarcasm on my way to school anymore.
I fell in love with a DJ.
Yeah. I did.
I don't know why there is a 1.0 spacing between my sentences.
All I know is, I love Jake Lopez.

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One weird thing that I felt on this last day of the year 2007 is..sadness. It's not my fault. Chico and Delamar actually started it by having the top 10 in that way. I think Santa's the real culprit this time.

Yeah well anyways, 2007 was nevertheless a very good year for me. Although I was not able to do something oh-so significant (unlike that swimming shit last year, wherein I bagged that silver medal just for practically showing up. Not. It's the same idea anyway.), I had at least made something that proved my significant to other people. Like that time when I was so full of doubt that I will not pass the school paper, but ended up actually attending that first meeting. I know quitting it is just the most dumb thing ever, considering that getting into a high-rolling campus newspaper is kinda challenging. But I have my own reasons why I did so. And besides, I don't belong there anyway. I hardly speak perfect English, and my sarcasm is a no-match for their brains.

2007 was thus a year of maturity. Through those efforts that I have put just so I can abide by my own resolutions, I met people who made me think that I'm great as I am; that I don't need to fluctuate badly so my friends would appreciate me more, I don't need to have someone to make me feel better every single time someone would mistake me for a roasted pig, or a big blob of fat, and finally, I don't need to commit suicide just for my own emotional stresses to fuck off. In a more concrete way, nobody or nothing can ever, ever, ever put me down. It's either I die the way Bhutto did, or I'm just tad hungry. That and other superficial shit.

Looking at those countless blog entries I have made for 2007, I have then realized how I was able to evolve through INTROVERSION. I know this sounds so stupid, but my online sanctuary did not only improve my grammatical craps, but it made me a lot like Gandhi. Not of course with those hunger strikes he had (because I highly doubt that I'll even last an hour without eating anything), but how we understood people just by fighting for their rights. That fighting for their rights thing is sort of a gray area, I think. But hence through posting my everyday experiences, I have learned to be more observant and giving at the same time. I have probably blurted out bazillion times before that I'm the best apathetic this world will ever have, but it all changed as I come to think of it.

My last year in high school geared me much more to be the fighter God apparently destined me to be. I may not have a sexy booty like Wonder Woman, or a body so fit it can curl itself into a cocoon instantly. I may not have an award people can thus use to judge my susceptibilities (e.g. that f-ing academic award, or some medal bagged at a high-top swimming competition), or a brain that can be used to make major breakthroughs in different fields. I may not have that tantalizing face people can easily gape at, or clean nostrils (You guessed it right. I can't think of anything else.)

Do you know what I have?

(Oh. I can't believe I'm saying this.)

Well I guess I have a heart to begin with. And deep concerns for all people I know. I treat everyone as a friend, and I can never ever deprive them in one way or another. Those may not be as important as you may think, but in my conscientious opinion, those are two major things one must have to achieve that feeling of contentment. or be the next Dalai Lama or something.

How can you not trust somebody who takes more care of her gadgets than herself?(This is sarcastic, by the way. Jesus. I'm already stressing the obvious.)

So now, I present you:

Lorainne's New Year Resolution for 2008

(My alter ego is the one speaking to me, if it's not that evident enough.)

1. Do a damn cold turkey regarding your Coke addiction. You don't want to freak everyone in college with that humongous pot belly you have. Maternity pants cost a lot, and they aren't really fashionable (or even suitable) for a girl your age. Try drinking that Harvey Fresh apple juice that's been in the pantry for the longest time ever instead. Or try drinking Harvey himself. You've always thought he was a catch. With that slinky straw hat and seductive smile, nobody can ever mistake that kid for being a hillbilly. Except of course if you look down a bit lower and see what he's NOT wearing.

2. Spend less time on Bill Gates' rip-off.(PC, hello. Bullcrap. Don't pretend he didn't copy Jobs' binary codes just so he can have his own empire. Shame. He even copied Stephen Hawking's face. I will not be surprised if he has Beyonce's ass, or Angelina's lips.) The world is an enormous mall, and you really have to see it all for yourself. Through these outdoor thingamajigs, you can probably like, get to know someone who is exactly like you. You know, fat and conceited. With pubic hairs sticking out above her head, and with a face so ghastly it's hard to determine if she really is therefore part of the human race. And you can later on find out that you are just standing in front of a big mirror in India. Jesus.

3. Stop being such an agnostic BS. There is a God, and you simply know it. You've been studying in a catholic educational institution all your life, and doubting who you think gave you life is simply wrong. Angels and Demons is fictional, for Christ's sake. Tim Berners-Lee and Robert Cailliau surely did not just invented the internet on their own. God probably kicked their asses before they actually reached the completion. For what it's worth, it will not really hurt you to just be a little bit faithful to someone who gave you everything.

4. Cut down the fat, kiddo. One more bag of Cheetos and I'm sure as hell some sumo wrestling agency in Japan will talk you into being their next big fish. Or pig.

5. Stop making expectations already and learn from you past mistakes that has to do with expecting stuffs. Oh. Let me revise the idea of that. Stop making good expectations, and rather focus on how bad things will go. By that, you will then not be hurt is something did not turn out good in the end, or be so stupendously happy that things ended up you didn't they would be. It's some sort of reverse psychology or something.

6. Don't ever ever consider picking up that cancer stick. You are already suffering from bronchial spasms, hello. Smoking will make your breathing worse, and thus will lead you to your extreme ugliness. You don't need to smoke when your Jobs products got your back.

7. No matter how things get so..fugly, never think that your blog sucks because nobody reads it. Like hell you care, right? You only write here because you are so stressed out, and you don't really like admitting nor showing it to people. You don't want them to think that you are such a damn failure because obviously, you're not. What better way to show your predicaments than through your blog anyway? Your madness or hunger for something is expressed through words, not through actions or facial expressions as per usual.

8. Can you be a little bit more...oh I don't know..meek? You are so f-ing cocky already. It's as if you even have something that makes sense that you should be proud of to begin with.

9. Get a tattoo.

10. Be a goddamn girl. And by that, I mean dressing and acting like one. Thinking like a boy is actually a necessity for an aspiring engineer like you, but don't you think being a boy all throughout is kinda going overboard already? You can wear girly clothes, and surprise everyone with your boyish mind. You like surprises anyway.

11. Let the inevitable flow.



And there you have it.

Damn. I miss Jake.

Happy New Year everyone!