Friday, August 04, 2006

Idiots on Parade

So. This is not a good week (or semester). And nothing like bad luck or such should be blamed for my lack of accountability. Far greater than what I'd expected, I failed every single exam I took for the last two weeks. It made me cringe in more than a blasphemized funny sort of way. Ack. My life is miserable, and I don't know where to start fixing it.

Along with the surplus of academic failures, I haven't been performing well in my organizations. My book review reeked, which apparently, I thought to be a goody. Debate rounds gave me a spin of suspicious looks of why I'm suddenly turning into a horrendous speaker with more than ugly cases right before their very eyes. TWG hasn't called back, and I don't know why I've always counted them in. SDDS, well, I've been doing bad templates of letters due to my negligence of not putting our president as a signatory.

Imagine life. Life's not beautiful. It's supposed to be sublime. Fantastic. Ravishing. Not the Lizzie McGuire sort of idiotic, perky atmosphere. Just... Happy.
This weekend, I swear to work my ass and legs off to study for my last quizzes. I can't bear the thought of failing another subject, yet again. What about thesis? What about good ol' tourneys? What about EB responsibilities?
I'm yet to turn into a nobody.

And well, although others would find that just fine.
It won't work for me.
Never did.

Mavy = bound to do something great (atleast once in a while, *smirk*).

Tuesday, July 25, 2006


Accounting for memories of damp July seasons, I realized nothing's stopping rain anytime soon. The good thing about it though, few people use electric fans and aircon units to add to the subzero ambiance within bedrooms and living rooms.
And due to the constant supension of classes, I've become an overgrown addict of Fish Tycoon.

There's this unidentified genre of rock music that's briskly trotting the music channels. Or, hrmm, that'd be you actually appreciating them and not switching to another channel. I labelled them as Disturbed Music. And, quite frantically, after sorting more than 700 MP3s in my files, I realized I have quite a hefty number of them. Try this semi-old song of Massive Attack named Teardrop.

A not-so-sudden uprise of game shows in ABS-CBN bewilders me in some way. Admittedly, I marvel the new format of Game KNB with all the diskarte chips and flamboyant set. I could be wondering just how many gowns are stocked inside Kris' wardrobe for her shows. A part of myself commented on the possible take of a surplus project for the distraught families in Lebanon. After all, she never does a second take.

Getting a promotion, and now part of the journal's Editorial Board (as Junior Managing Editor), my EIC told me last week that I needed to write my own column for the paper. I got a random blaze of topics running up and down my head.
I wanted to write about eloquence, politics, rain, good writers, books, and even take on the perspective of drawing indelible lines on sensitive issues. But the thing is, I was never good in common directions, my prose and poetry almost always bordered on the presence of nostalgia, incubus, death, schizophrenia and androgeny. There's nothing mainstream about the way I write. And columns and/or editorials, must communicate, must bridge a gap between the writer and the reader; it must be general, not vague and taunting.

Ack. Help. Tell me what to write.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Adorable Misrepresentations

Most unfortunately, the persistent Glenda blew us away. Classes are suspended, but along with the inconvenience comes the joyous anecdote of a reassembled DSL connection.
I get to listen to more music now that Jom's MP3s are ripped into my own files. Also, along with around 400 new songs was an uninvited virus. It's a good deal I learned how to do that hidden file technique, if not for that, I wouldn't have known that there was an unearthly bug lounging around my files.

Suspensions serve as my only free days. For three consecutive weekends. I have been presupposing myself in the enjoyment of my organizations' general assemblies, debate trainings and newbie lessons. I ran through my Organic Chemistry Laboratory formal report breezier than the current typhoon.

It's a good thing I finished the features article for the journal last Friday night. I had the worst first time. Paradoxically, first times are supposed to be fun and knowledgeable, not dry and embarrassing. When we got to Makati to do the interview, things started screwing up on their own. Add to the fact that hrmm, feeling of being so unprepared (
pictures of pending fish eggs in Fish Tycoon in brain) and wasted over imminent academic demands. I had to manically revamp my dignity in the course of writing the article. Terrible.

There's this quite unpopular emo band, I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness, not that they're ostracized or anything. They're a good description of an easy love. Try listening to some of their songs over the drugged download softwares. Piracy won't hurt.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Seasonal Writing

I've always had this temporal fear of having a failure to un-attach over things I've deeply, and unwantingly directed myself unto. It's almost two weeks since that last talk with the school registrar, and mind you, my life never got any more fascinating since then.
I've always known problems to be a simple pushover, for you to start doing things you don't regularly do. Apparently, I've proven myself wrong in that ideal.

I've been unintentionally losing weight due to stress and the unsubdued woralcoholicism. I'm having fun in the journal, and life in TDC's never been so warm.
Rain, as usual, is still malevolently dashing round and about the whole country, but this is my season. And I'd just have to say, I love it!

I've had two hours of sleep last night due to a triple examination feast (yet again) with my Wednesday major subjects (by the way, this is me writing in another date), and life's never been any loftier than an Absinthe Party within the walls of my Chemistry Laboratory class. Of course I wouldn't mean that literally. I meant my pseudo-experiment on possible drug addiction on Caffeine precipitates heated on foil (addict: yum yum). If only theses can be as curiosity-bending and, outwardly, more experimental in every sense.

I think people are starting to lose interest in reading this blog. And I, quite uncaringly, am just unmoved about all of it. I'm yet to open a new blog in Livejournal. Since bloggers are writers and writers need to grow and explore other venues, I'll be taking that step.

I told Rizza the other day that it kills me as an artist that I couldn't fully express myself in my chosen course. My major subjects limit my capabilities and knowledge in the international scene, in the legal mandate and in the literary portrait. It's intoxicating, believe me. But on direly cultivated and challenging moments, I've realized that in life, it's all a toss of choices. If you want it, work for it. There's no simpler way.
Luck's as temperamental as the change of seasons.

It's all a deal with it, or prefer dying.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Coloquial Terms

Nothing special. Just a day topped with a cherry spelled with much difficulty, for me to continue living a normal life. Maybe a special day requires an extraordinary feat involving a serious mishap that will make you think -- think too strongly on your feet.

On holidays and, well, obscure occasions, I usually have a random feast of highlighting particular events. Say today, I got a phonecall from one of the admin people telling me that I need to bicker a few people for money. Ermm, no need to expound on that.

It always rains on my birthday, and due to that incessant shifting of weather, I've become accustomed to the blistery atmosphere that severely channels goosebumps on my skin. Bluntly said, rain has gradually become my aftershock.

It's lonely to stay home alone, but it's much lonelier to eat outside with only yourself to marvel on viands and rice. Not that you envy the people uncontrollably expressing diversions of PDA, but there's this stark recognition of a hardly swallowed food inside your throat. There's this unwanted lump of solitude and despair, unfulfillingly accustomed by the absence of a supposed, lounging within the walls of your mind.

I contemplate on the sound of predominant pre-assessment every now and then.
It's more than weird, really. It's insane.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

First of Rain

Because there's nothing better than drowning your ears in music.

It's July, and I need not elaborate on my feeble attempts to revive my enthusiasm for posting in my blog. Not that I'm starting to forget about it, ermm, not having a computer almost equates to expedient mortality for me.

Tomorrow, my biological age shifts into full gear. Yes, I'm turning 19 in a lopsided point of view.
I'm sick. I'm jaded. And I'm failing...

I just finished taking up my first exam for this semester (Invertebrate Zoology), and must I emphasize that I have two other quizzes waiting on queue while I'm typing this note? I could hardly put my mind together while answering my first test. My mind seemed like an underemployed civilian of a thriving society. Yes.

I mumbled at my being similar to a pen running out of ink. The questions hardly registered inside my brain (or maybe it's just me, thinking I have one). Of course, there was that detracted hint of a lost identification card flying above my head, yet I couldn't make up a single word to replace my forgotten knowledge.

I'm hating this day.

There are numerous reasons why bad luck exists. Take for example a pending good karma waiting to end your day with a bang. My Histology test also went down the drain, but thanks to my future thesismate, Pao, I got a passable mark.
Zoology Laboratory was less tormenting, or maybe due to the awesome cloud of release and joy breaking through the latter part of the afternoon.

I stained my skirt more than awfully and managed to command Pecto to wash the blotch off.
The scenario ended with Mavy in a yellow skirt.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Stalking New Writers

Angelo Suarez and Patrick Rosal.

and instantly you want her,
knowing well enough
there isn't any difference really:

that she is you and you are her
as both of you are everyone else,

waiting only to love yourselves

because there is no one else to love.

by Angelo V. Suarez "Everyw(her)e"

I haven't posted any word for more than two weeks.
My mind's rotten, and not because I haven't been writing, but because I have lately been succeeding in my attempts to die a slow, painful death due to workalcoholicism -- or whatever that's called.

Last June 11-13, I was in Antipolo to attend a Team-Building Activity / Writing Seminar Series with my College of Science Journal family.
I got to meet Lourd de Veyra, Radioactive Sago Project's frontman and Bernice Roldan, a short story writer from UP. Somehow, it made me think I have been writing nothing but crap ever since I gave in to more than shallow pursuits of defining puppy love (yup, and even through coffee themes). I found out there's a bigger circle of profound Filipino literati's than what Kat and I thought to have been extinct for a long time now.

It wasn't really the usual feeling of being "burned out" that haunted me during those two nights, but the massive attack of a growing wisdom tooth, making me want to get all my teeth jammed in the brink of closing elevator doors.

It was terrible. I couldn't even swallow my own spit.

First day of school was a so-so. Not to mention the random guy-hunting a fellow staffer and I did to frustratingly devour ourselves in the presence of fresh and young blood in the college.
Our very unfortunate section got hooked up with terror professors for this semester. Even computer class gave us no room to breathe.

But I love the ire of professors, because it makes me criticize and watch them more if they're really brilliant or just plain for show.

Recruitment week (university-wide) was fun. Besides engaging myself to exploring the uninteresting field of sales-talking, I was able to persuade quite a good number of people to join TDC.
I'm loving every bit of my extra-curricular life. And that, not actualizing the big brown monster I saw in the doorsteps of my college building last week.

Saved the best for last. I got awfully drunk last Friday at Kuya Mok's pad (Kuya Iggy's birthday).
I drank a glass of Margarita, 8 shots of Tequila and 6 glasses of Baileys and topped it off with a sudden snooze on the couch. I vomitted all over the place.

But I had loads of fun. Even though some part of my hair's still smelling of puke right now.
Thanks for the patience everyone.