Para Sa Manunulat na si N.

Anong buwan na nga ba ngayon?

Ah. September.

Masarap pala mag-cut ng isang walang kakwenta-kwentang class na kung saan ang prof ay dakdak lang ng dakdak kahit tulog na ang mga estudyante niya. Mabait naman si Sir P.E., kaya lang sadyang hindi siya stimulating. Well, kung gusto mong ma-stimulate ang melatonin (N-acetyl-5-methoxytryptamine) mo, go ka lang sa kanyang class.

Remember yung Bio1 class natin? Pag nag-cut ako, andun ka. At kung kelan naman ako umattend, dun ka wala. Saya. Salisihan. Taguan.

Did you know? Gumawa ako ng blog tungkol sa'yo. It's nothing spectacular. Actually puro ramblings lang 'yun tungkol...well...tungkol sa 'yo. Duh.

Ilang buwan ko na din yun hindi na-update. Kahit ito ngang basurang blog (wow! alliteration!) na ito ay hindi ko na masyadong nababalikbalikan (obvious ba?). Well, at least alam kong may isa o dalawa akong masugid na mambabasa (i.e. tagabantay. HI TAY!).

Back to the blog. Binasa ko ulit ngayon. Natawa ako (i.e. humagalpak) sa mga pinagsususulat ko. Gusto mo mabasa ang ibang excerpt? Sige. Ihahain ko sa'yo chronologically.

---

March 18. Wednesday.
UNO.

"Pero inaamin ko. Napukaw mo ang interes ko nang makita kita sa pagitan ng double doors sa room natin sa NIGS. Papasok ka ng room, at ang naisip ko na lang, "Waw. Parang si Raymond Marasigan." - O ha. Para kang si Raymond Marasigan. Flattered ka no? Aminin. :D

"Siguro nangyari nung nakasalubong kita at sinabi kong, "Uy, walang class ngayon."

Sabi mo, "Ah walang class?" Sabay ngiti." - I know, I know. I am mushy. Go tell the Pope.

"Nagbasa ako.

At nag-increase ang speed (o acceleration? Ewan. Di ako physicist.) ng free fall ko. Writer ka nga pala. Hindi nag-sink in sa kamalayan ko until mabasa ko ang mga saloobin at gawa mo.

Wala akong masabi. Hindi naman ako established writer. Lalong hindi ako critic. Basta, ang blog mo ang propulsion.

Sino ang stimulus?

Ikaw." - isa pang ka-mushy-han. I don't do this often. Actually, this was the first time I've written in this way. And I don't think kaya kong i-replicate ito. I don't think I have any reason to.

March 19. Thursday.
DOS.

"Hindi naman kasi lahat ng babae eh gusto ang matangkad, maputi, chinito. Hello. You don't see me fawning over Chris Tiu, do you? On the contrary, I find him too...bland for my tastes. He's like a lapdog. LOL." - Sorry sa mga mahal kong kaibigan sa admu na makakabasa nito. Joke lang yan ha. For the sake of my (nonexistent) argument lang yang jab ko kay Chris Tiu. Honestly, what's not to like about him? He's nearly perfect, it's disgusting. JOKE. :D


March 20. Friday.
TRES.

"Hindi kita nakita ngayon.

(Cue chorus of wailing souls from the depths of Hell.)"

"Lahat ng tao complicated- biologically, psychologically o financially man 'yan. Pero ikaw? Sa tingin ko tinalo mo pati babaeng nagp-PMS (pre-menstrual syndrome) dahil sa complexity mo. Hoy, compliment 'yon. I mean it when I say that..." - Haha. Hanggang dun na lang. Nakakahiya na yung sunod kong sinabi eh. Too mushy. Too un-Rona-like.

"You trashed structure and replaced it with freedom." - Oo. Idol kita hanggang ngayon. Sana maging Palanca Awardee la, or National Artist sa hinaharap. Aabangan ko yan, ha?

March 21. Saturday.
CUATRO.

"...eh di sana tumalon na lang ako mula sa billboard ni Edu Manzano sa Tandang Sora. Mas madali pa.
Quick and painless, kung tamang anggulo ang pagbagsak ko." - Nope. Hindi. Hindi ako suicidal. Gago. I'm not really saying what I meant to say. Capische?

March 25. Wednesday.
CINCO.

"Naka-pink polo shirt ka noon. With white stripes pa. Naisip ko, Ayan ang patunay na real men wear pink." - Yeeeeesh. Manly ang pink pag ikaw ang nagsuot. :D

May 29. Friday.
SEIS.

"Akala ko, nawala na ang turbulent emotions that I pegged as childish admiration. Bakit ngayon, nang.." - and once again, ni-cut ko na dyan. Overly mushy and so unlike me.

"Ang pangit mo 'pag nakainom ka. Okay yung ruffled-look mo na parang kakagising na rockstar, pero 'pag hinaluan na ng alcohol...eeeew. Tsk."

"Inimagine kita na lasing na lasing, pagewang-gewang, mabantot, masangsang, namumula ang mata, mabaho ang hininga, at nagsusuka. Inisip ko kasi, baka maturn-off ako.
Aba! Masochista 'ata ako, kasi hindi nawala.
Hindi nawala." - mind you, vivid ang imagination ko. The mere fact that I still found you cute kahit malala ka pa sa presong pinakawalan sa strip club ay REMARKABLE. EPIC.

----

Ayan. It's either you're freaked out, or indifferent, o sanay na, o kaya naman ay flattered sa mga sinabi ko. Buti nga, excerpt lang yang mga yan. Kung gusto mo pang mawindang, hingin mo sa'kin yung URL.

On second thought, wag na. Kasi dedelete ko na din eh. Bakit?

Gago ka ba? Do you expect me to rot away in this hole I've dug for myself? NO THANKS. I'd rather disprove the existence of my cardiac organ. Magpakasaya ka dyan sa bundok mo.

HIndi ako galit. Badtrip lang. Kasi naman bumabagyo na naman pero hindi nila sinuspend yung classes. Tsk. M*therf*ckers.

Napansin ko lang. Nowadays I'm prone to rambling on and on and on about crap-knows-what. Without any direction whatsoever. Tungkol ba saan ang blog na ito? Noong una eh akala ko isa itong pamamaalam. On second thought, alam kong isa itong pagalala.

On Random Shiz

Exhaustion comes in many forms. There is the fatigue of the flesh, the feebleness of the mind, and the weariness of the *cardiac organ, depending on the events that transpire in an individual's life. This sense of tiredness may stem from the countless staircases that one has to climb in a day, or the pile of books one has to finish within two days, or the kind of life that one constantly sees from other people. Or the pressure from one's peers, the burden of having to wake up every morning. Once that sense of tiredness overcomes completely, one will know nothing save the persistent want for rest, to stop for a while. The body ceases all activity, but the worst case scenario is for the heart to tire of caring.

- - - - - -

Faith is a string wrapped around The Thing. Depending on who you are, that string may be tightly coiled- like a gnarled hand tightly clutched around a wad of dough- or slack- like the relaxed embrace of a dear friend. It could be entirely uncoiled, exposing what it had once hidden.

- - - - - -

I had an epiphany. We've been given enough shit to deal with that could last us more than a lifetime. Other people have been given more shit than they could handle. So they go over the edge. And they die. Just like that. Sometimes (those rare moments in human history when we actually give a shit), we care enough for a few lives to be saved. Or, we spend our waking moments worrying our asses off for the future of our country, planet, etc. We're not completely heartless. We do care, sometimes, when the ugliness and the stain of poverty on society presents itself right in front of our faces. We do care, sometimes, when the mistakes are so tangible and thick in the air that we can't breathe. Heck, we breathe in that miasma every single day we travel across the city, or walk to the sari-sari store to buy a bote of toyo/mantika/suka/etc, or go to the mall to shop/window shop, or watch the evening news (usually about who's pregnant, who broke up, who died, whose house was robbed/*insert random event of human suffering here*). We breathe in that fucked-up air of same mistakes every single second of our lives.

It's killing us, ain't it? We don't know, because we're so absorbed in surviving and studying and working and breathing. And seeing without really seeing. And hearing but not listening. And combing our brushes through our brains just to come up with a way to get by.

So here's my epiphany. It's a lot easier not to care. I've tried the other side, and it's given me nails on my fingers. And blisters on my toes. So I'd rather not care.

We'd rather not care.

Am I right? Or do you want to stone me now to death for saying that? I implore you to read. And dig. Don't just read. Dig deep and dig hard. Dig as though you're digging through a mountain of cash. That's the way to dig.

Posting for the Sake of Posting

It's only been a month. I'm still alive, so don't get your hopes up. It will take more than just schoolwork-from-hell to snuff my life out. :D

Hmm..so what can transpire in a month? Quite a lot, apparently. New people, new friends, new ahemprospectsahem...it's been a good, albeit exhausting, month. I've also made a number of realizations, one of which is the reason why my French was disastrous beyond compare during the last semester. The reason has been revealed to me through Divine Intervention...nah I kid. I merely exercised my self-control, refused to touch the computer (and the Internet, but that's intangible anyway), stopped myself from blogging and bloghopping, reading fanfiction, playing Neopets (what? It's fun.) and instead focused all my dreary nights on French (14 and 15) and German (10 and 11). And believe me, what I've learned within this month is more than what I've learned in a whole year (not to mention that my class standing is looking waaaaay better than Robert Pattinson. Take that, Twitards!) :D

Er..yeah. Hehe. I was that bad of a slacker. BUT I've changed! Swear! :D

Speaking of classes, I have the best set of professors a student can have within a single semester. First up, is my French 14/15 prof, Monsieur Ecclesiastes Papong. He is a RIOT! And I mean that in a totally positive way. He will enter the room in a no-nonsense way while toting his huge boombox, say "On va commence" and then...the learning and the bullshitting and the crazy fun starts. He's definitely the best French prof I've ever had. Next is Frau Roorkee Ong, my Deutschlehrerin. She is, again, as undescribable as Monsieur Papong. She's this tall, stately woman who looks like a rockstar despite her stern countenance. And for me, she is! And she draws upon personal "Europe" experiences in class, which makes learning from her all the more refreshing and worthwhile. I haven't been this relaxed in a language class. Ever.

Oh. In less than a week, Harry Potter and the Halfblood Prince will hit the theaters. Do I need to tell you how psyched I am? Nah, I don't. But I'll tell you anyway (just for the heck of it). I. AM. SO. UNBELIEVABLY. ABSOLUTELY. UNDENIABLY. PSYCHED. Really. Truly. Deeply. (Do I sound like I'm obsessed? Nope, not obsessed. Just...enamored. Caught. Entranced. With what, you ask? Why, with the story's pure genius, of course! Harry Potter (the book, not the character) is actually what attracted the millions of readers, not some undead pedophile from some obscure book. (Sorry. Can't resist.) :D

Anyhow..I am aware that my writing right now isn't exactly lucid..so..I'm going to make myself scarce. Right now. Ja.

Since I Can't Say It Out Loud...

WARNING: Bound to get personal, mushy and downright asinine. No particular direction, really. This is going off in countless ways, like a crossroad gone crazy. Again, watch your step.

I have no clue if I should be thrilled that classes have been moved to a later date because somehow, the pros outweigh the cons (read: allowance *wink wink*), but whatever. I think I'll kill sometime here, and release virtual crap into the void. This could be about anyone, could go anywhere, and just be anything, really.

So, yesterday, my friend since preschool celebrated her first foray into womanhood, AKA, her 18th birthday. I've been reacquainted with some friends whom I haven't seen for more than a year, and I realized that I no longer am updated with what's going on in their lives. We've all moved on to other things...greater things. Some are moving on with a leisurely stroll. Some are running and pushing themselves as if the hellhounds are at their heels. We are all moving, and the only constant thing is the fact that we are all different- no longer on the same page, no longer following the same goals, no longer moving at the same pace.

I know that people change, but I haven't realized until lately that relationships also do in such a short span of time. But what the heck, they are my friends. And I know very well how difficult it is to put up with me. I am a slanderous, narcissistic, cynical, hypercritical, sanctimonious bitch (with a capital B) who's not easy on the eyes AND certainly does not deserve enduring friends. But still, I have them in epic proportions, and that's more than what other people can say for themselves. I am thankful, but since I'm an emotionally-constipated cow, I do not let them know how high up in my priorities they are. Maybe I've let loose a couple of mushy words in their blogs or cellphones or in person (which is rare), but that's it. I think I'm taking them for granted.

Nah. I AM taking them for granted.

Friends, I know that some of you have read, are reading or might read this, so lemme tell you one thing: just tell me to SHUT THE HELL UP and CUT THE CRAP if I'm being too much to handle. Really, I won't bite your heads off if you tell me to shut up once in a while, and you are my friends so I'm bound to listen to you, yeah? Seriously, I can listen to you guys, too. All I need is a tiny, microscopic magnitude (talk about contradictions :D) of trust.

Now I feel like the lowest low-life on the face of this god-forsaken place. I am lightyears away from being a good person, but I'm trying my damnedest to get there, even if I'm doing it in a snail's pace. I know it's going to take me a whole lifetime because change isn't a split-second phenomenon, and it's actually harder than we think to take into consideration what other people tell us, and morph the 'beast' into 'beauty'. But the point is, I am more than amenable to metamorphose into a more agreeable creature who bites and barks less. I won't go psycho on you guys if you point out a not-so-likeable trait, or an attitude problem (well in that case, I might have to change EVERYTHING. :P). If I do freak out, you could always threaten to call B.S.C. (aka Astroboy) or watch HP6 without me. That would do the trick.

So, to LeaIaKrisannRayDreiAjRuthRoselleClaireAdrian

MarielleGabbiMikkaJoyNikkiRaymondMarkXela

KatrinaMishMegBetsyAnalynRovelleJennicaNicole

YoyaTentenSarahMiggyCheskaTheaJenCharo (but most importantly, to the first twelve names mentioned), thank you from the substratum of my filthy, evil cardiac organ.

If I have one, that is. :D

My Crappy Soundtrack

CRS is being its usual, annoying, slow-as-molasses self, and it's pissing me off. I'm pretty sure some of you can sympathize with my plight, so excuse this product of my boredom.

Here's the sorta-kinda-maybe soundtrack of my life (I wanna feel like my life's a boring movie, so just humor me, okay? Thank you). So far. Some songs just leave a lasting mark, some actually tell a story about me, and some I like just for the heck of it.

T H E P L A Y L I S T ;)

30 Seconds To Mars - From Yesterday - 'On a mountain he sits, not of gold, but of sin' - Sometimes, we stay seated, and the mountain grows higher and higher until we could no longer see the bottom. The mountain never stops growing anyway, but we could retard its growth, erode its body with measures only we know of. But we never do, do we?

The Cardigans - Lovefool - Ia-chan knows my fascination with this song when we were high school seniors. She knows it sooooo well since I can't help but belt it out every time the beautiful Narcissus named Michael Blancaver would pass by in a swift sprint, his hair rippling in the wind, his supple limbs carrying him away to...*ahem* Sorry. Got carried away.

Switchfoot - You - This made me realize that faith is a precious gift I have yet to receive.

Jason Mraz - A Beautiful Mess - Practically every song of Jason Mraz could leave a mark (because he's a songwriting genius, who's hot to boot, but that's beside the point), but this one...just surpassed everything he has ever written. In my opinion, at least. I won't go into detail why this song is here. It just is, and I'm happy for that.

Jason Mraz - Love for A Child - 'What about taking this empty cup and filling it up with a little bit more of innocence' - For someone who deserved a carefree childhood, one with lesser pain and responsibility, you know who you are. Thank you.

Hawthorne Heights - This Is Who We Are - Just plain wicked. I don't need a reason to like it. :D

The Used - Paralyzed - The song's kooky and fun, despite the highschool drama lyrics.

Staind - Everything Changes - Because everything changes. It's just too bad that we realize it a little too late, sometimes.

Jimmy Eat World - The Middle - Never fails to inspire without sounding like a guidance counselor on crack.


Alanis Morissette - You Oughta Know - 'Does she know how you told me you'd hold me until you died, till you died, but you're still alive' - Always makes me think of the typical bastard who cheated on his girlfriend, only with this song, the scenario in my head involves his tied-up corpse, lots of blood, a satisfied ex-girlfriend and the bottom of a nearby lake. :D

Smash Mouth - All Star - 'Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb' - The best wake-up call that I've ever had. Statistics isn't everything. Numbers do not make the world go round. We can go on with our lives believing the crap that others feed us, but at the end of the day, those figures don't and won't matter. What will matter is you. Me. Us. After all, it's our lives. We make it happen. Not the diploma. Not the number of digits in our paycheck. Not those exchange rates in the newspaper. Not the amount of people above the poverty line, nor those below it. It's easier said than done, but it's probably for the best.

...

So...that's that. I most likely will encounter more songs that would tickle my fancy for good in the near future, but as of the moment, that is IT. Share your own soundtracks, will ya? ;)

A Public Apology (-_-)

I can't believe I'm doing this. Sarah, you crazy woman. This is damaging the (nonexistent) reputation of my blog! Heck, I don't even know how to do a public apology. Demet.

Friends and non-friends, this so-called public apology is issued due to the demands of one Sarah Kristine G********.

Tsk. Hindi naman malalaman ng madla na para sa'yo yung article na Silly Rants that Nobody Reads kung hindi ka nagreact sa cbox ko. At nilagay mo pa yung totoo mong pangalan! Hay. Baliw ka talaga.

Before anything else, I need to refute your claims that said article is a defamation of character.

(1) It should be a derogatory AND false statement concerning another.

Sarah dear, it is sorta-kinda-maybe derogatory, but even you cannot deny that what I wrote is nothing but the truth...blah blah blah. You said that yourself. Heck, you ARE proud of it, and I love you for that friend, but I gotta speak my mind, ya know?

(2) Damage to the plaintiff (this is you, Sarah).

Did my post expose you to ridicule, contempt and injury? *waits for answer* Hmmm. I thought so, too. Only a few people find it in their precious time to drop by this waste of virtual space, and most are my highschool friends and family relatives. Only a handful are from the university. And even then, they don't even know who you are. And you said yourself that there's no damage done. (Why am I doing this again? Oh yeah. Because if I don't, you'll tell that fratboy friend of yours that I think he's an arrogant, pompous jerk who thinks he's God's gift to women? Damn I hate him.)

Ahem. Moving on. This is my apology:

Hehehe. Sorry. That was a bad joke. Well, there are a couple of things that I really am sorry for. Let me take excerpts from the article, yeah?

(1) "...I'll just take all these precious BLESSINGS since I deserve them. GOD wouldn't give them to me if I didn't deserve them.
Oh, and I suppose your precious God thinks those penniless college kids deserve to be penniless, and those abused wives deserve the abuse?..."

That was waaaaaay out of line, I admit. So I apologize. You respect my state of religious disarray, and so I should respect your religious stability, too.

(2) "...I'm just hanging on desperately to that slim chance that you'll realize the MASSIVE insignificance of your Nine West shit when you bite the dust. Permanently. ..."

THAT one, I REALLY regret. I shouldn't even have thought of that. Damn I'm such a bad person. I think I was listening to Queen that time so I thought of using that line. Meh, I shouldn't even be trying to spout pathetic excuses. Point is, I'm so sorry. This coming semester, I'll treat you to turon every week. Swear!

So there. Sowweee. *grovels*. Je suis tres desolee. I know that most of the time, I write before I think and someday I'll be killed because of that. (feeling isang mamamahayag) But what I can't bear is losing a friend like you to my harsh and thoughtless crap. I can't promise that I won't do it again, though. :D

Edit: So you're THAT loaded, dear. Damn I wanna be like your Dad. Well, go buy more of that Louis Vimajig that you like so much. I doubt that it'll even put a dent on your riches. Damn. I think you can buy Johnny Depp for a night with your dough. Tell me again, why are you even putting up with peyups when you can study in an Ivy League university?

Edit: Sure kang ayaw mong i-sub ang Louis Vimajigs mo for...say...a backpack? They have more space for your stuff, are more practical and easier to carry...Haha I'm dork. (-_-) Or, you can ditch those Luichiny-whaddayacallems and just use...er...cheaper brands? And you can't even use UGGs in this scorching country, for the love of cows! (-_-)

Silly Rants that Nobody Reads

WARNING: Severe preaching. Cuss words. Occasional crap scattered about. Watch your step.

Sigh. There's only so much one can rant about THE great blunder, Twilight and Co. As of the moment, I cannot think of more shit to dish on the cliche-turned-bestseller, not that it's due to lack of trying. There are just more pressing issues to vociferate on and on and on about. Take, for example, people who measure their self-worth with the pairs of shoes that they have, how much dough they trash on handbags, clothes, bling... ya know, all that shit that's supposed to make a woman's world go 'round.

Psh. What a load of bullcrap.

I don't really have a say with what you do with your parents' hard-earned cash, but I'm going to do it anyway, since this waste of virtual space is MY blog. *insert evil cackle here*

I've always wondered how you could sleep peacefully at night with this hanging over your head(if you do have a conscience, that is).

Wait. You probably don't sleep at all. And methinks it's not because of your conscience bothering you.

Tell me, what kind of perverse atonement do you derive from flaunting your plastic wares for all to see? And when questioned about your unorthodox garbage choices, why do you spout psychological, marketing balderdash that just makes you look more like a faker than you already are?

Rona: OUCH! Is that a burn or is that a burn?!

You might be thinking right now, Ooooooh, it's the ugly green monster rearing its head, poor widdle teenie who can't afford even a single handle of my LV handbag!

Believe it or believe it, it's not envy talking. It's actually my indignant, self-righteous bullshit that's talking. And I admit, it's worse than the green monster because this cannot be soothed by mere delusions of a panoramic grandeur. Whatever that is. And hey, this isn't about me. It's about YOU. For once, someone's giving you the spotlight without you having to hog it all to your selfish self. How good does that feel?!

You talk about how you deserve all this crap because of countless Herculean tasks (ooooh) that you have to endure every single day of your life, but you never did walk the talk. It's human nature, really, to amplify one's suffering for the justification of one's hankering for worldly goods, but YOU took it to the next level. Bravo. Not.

Believe it or not, there are more people out there who suffer more than you do. There are girls who are not only dumped by their boyfriends, but are also knocked up and left to rot in child support. There are students who do not even have to worry about what clothes they should wear to classes the next day, because they're not even sure if they could go to classes at all. There are wives who have more things to worry about than just their kids and their husbands. They have to think about how to hide that hideous bruise from that ugly row last night, how to deal with the whispers and knowing stares of neighbors who have nothing better to do with their lame lives, how to survive the day under the pressure of abuse.

You have it easy. And you're probably thinking, with the way your twisted mind works, Okay, sure, I know about those cases, but I can't save everyone. What do you want me to do? I'll just take all these precious BLESSINGS since I deserve them. GOD wouldn't give them to me if I didn't deserve them.

Oh, and I suppose your precious God thinks those penniless college kids deserve to be penniless, and those abused wives deserve the abuse?

Okay, I'm getting off-topic. Back on track.

Lookie here, I'm not expecting you to help everyone. No one can achieve that (well, except maybe for Bill Gates, Warren Buffett and Carlos Slim Helu combined, but that's beside the point). I'm just hanging on desperately to that slim chance that you'll realize the MASSIVE insignificance of your Nine West shit when you bite the dust. Permanently.

If you can't, then just keep your sinful (LOL. I said sinful! That sounds so...Pope-ish.) lust on the down low. You don't have to flaunt it in front of people who do not give a damn about your latest purchases. You're just making more enemies along the way.

On the other hand, you can flaunt all you want in front of me. It's so amusing to pretend that I'm sooooo interested in your latest designer piffle, while I'm really rolling on the floor guffawing. Figuratively, of course.

Sigh. I don't feel pity for people that often. You should be proud. :)