I borrowed Liwayway Arceo’s Canal Dela Reina from the library for research because our kontrabida for entry in Sagala ng mga Sikat is Nyora Tentay, an opportunistic small-time businesswoman and an appropriate caricature of the dark side of capitalism in the Philippines, but then I fell asleep after reading up to the 4th page.
I’m pretty ticked off that I didn’t think about Queen Femina from Zsa Zsa Zaturnnah, because extremist feminism is so much more interesting than “the dark side of capitalism”.
Why talking to me after PE will only result in one-word answers
So up to this point in time, I’ve tried very hard to remain positive about PE under the pretense that my mental attitude towards it might somehow invigorate me to actually be physically fit. Or something along those lines. But now I’d like to say my piece on PE so I can shut up about it again and go back to my sickeningly optimistic pretense.
Fact: I’m appallingly unfit. Our professor asks us to laps around about half of the covered courts for five minutes as a warm-up, and while I can mostly keep up (but lag behind—duh), I can literally feel my pharynx constricting and the start of an asthma attack coming by the end of the fifth minute.
The rest of the exercises we do for Physical Fitness for Women aren’t as hard as the warm-up (oh, the irony) and my professor tolerates us when we cheat during 40 second intervals of doing the side plank, so all in all, it isn’t such a bad deal.
Except for the Swiss ball. I could do without the Swiss ball. And the push ups on top of the Swiss ball. And the ab crunches or whatever on top of the Swiss ball. Basically anything that requires me to be on top of a Swiss ball with only my arms for support. Don’t be fooled by their size, my arms are weak little twigs.
And today, I FORGOT TO BRING SOCKS FOR PE. So I had to endure the workout sock-less, and since I don’t have proper athletic shoes, the closest things I have to actual tennis shoes are leather sneaker things. D:
So by the end of PE today, my arms were shaking, my pharynx was half-swollen, my feet were gross, and I had to think about Physics Lab right after PE and Sanggu orientation right after Lab. And I don’t know, I think the period of time where you wait for a washroom cubicle to empty so you can change is the perfect time for a Monday to reflect on the Haruki Murakami novel I just finished.
and in never fails to amuse me how awkward using public computers are.
For example, the people to my left and right are both legitimately researching. Girl to my left is researching about development and population growth, and the guy to my right is on Cliffsnotes (hey, that’s research).
And here I am on Tumblr with my dashboard embarrassingly filled with pictures of Fernando Torres doing odd, everyday things. And my YM picture happens to be Ricardo Kaka.
I went back to STC along with my former classmates Bea, Lougar and Margie today. The old place still has a hold on me, what can I say. And I can’t tell you the number of times I wanted to yell "Para!" to the E. Rod via D. Tuazon jeepney driver whenever my last jeep for my entire commute home drives by STC.
I felt warm and fuzzy inside when the high schoolers (Haha!) looked at me with big eyes, probably marveling at how old I’ve grown over a summer. Especially if seniors are the one ogling at me because I can almost hear their thoughts: “Shit son, that’s me next year!”
Times change, but the conversations are still the same. The same gossip about the same people, the same embittered remarks about the same bitch, except with new college characters, but all in all, still pretty much the same. And I guess I take comfort in the fact that I may have 2-hour breaks between my classes and I now apparently care about college basketball, but at least that heartbreaking bitch is still unforgivably a heartbreaking bitch.
I saw my Creative Writing teacher* whom I asked for help about my Guidon application, and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I quit and just didn’t try at all. It’s just a matter of pride, I guess. So instead, I told her I didn’t get in. She was honestly shocked. She consoled me by saying, "If you were in La Salle, you’d have gotten in."SELF-AFFIRMATION HIGH FIVE!
I got to hug my 2nd year Bio teacher, whom I asked to write me a recommendation letter for Ateneo. It’s a full circle thing for me.
I walked home again, just like high school. I used to stop by the grocery store on my way home, and I did just that, for old time’s sake. I bought butter cookies. They’re delicious, and they’re the local ones without the nutrition content, so no thanks, I’d rather not know how many calories these are. Hahaha!
Our pantries are full again and we have Sunquick! What a great way to end a relatively good-ish day.
I have only one class today, Basic Math. I made my dad drive me for an hour to go to a Math class.
I intended to line up for a ticket to watch the Ateneo v La Salle game live on Saturday, but when I got to the ARPT, there was a huge crowd of people. Okay, reasonably, I shouldn’t have been surprised. But I swear my friend told me earlier this morning there were only about 15 people there. And me being me, I didn’t even bother.
I’m alone because all of my friends are on the AMP bench, which is this hangout place for this org I’m not a part of (apparently, they only accept people with music skillz). I’m alone. In the library.
I just logged in Facebook five minutes ago to poke around for a bit (because that’s really all that people do in the library computers), and now I can’t access the site. Each time I type “facebook.com” on the address bar, a blank white screen is all I get. I can’t log out. I can’t log out. I can’t log out. Which means some fucker will probably have access to my already embarrssing Facebook profile.
My Tumblr dashboard is filled with embarrassing football shipper shit, AND THE NEXT BUTTON DOESN’T WORK.
who punctuates all of her points and nails them down on you hard until you’re too exhausted to argue with her that you’ll just have to agree with whatever the fuck she’s saying because you think you’ll get a aneurysm in the next minute if you don’t. Which is okay-ish if you’re discussing big, big things like who to vote for President or your stand on same-sex marriage. But she does it ALL THE TIME even in the smallest of things, like jeepney routes.
Also, she procrastinates everything. Going to the doctor, finishing work at home, etc, etc, etc. Whenever she says she’ll be “working all day” on something, it basically means she’ll be playing Spider Solitaire all day.
Which isn’t to say I don’t love her, I do, but God, she just grates on my nerves sometimes.
Is it because I share these annoying traits with her albeit to a lesser degree right now? Do I find these traits annoying because I know that in the future I’ll end up alone, unmarried, living with my married sister to spoil her kids, and forever dodging social obligations?
because my Sims just randomly “moved out” of town. It’s apparently a Thing in Sims 3. It’s supposedly a method of dwindling the population of the town so your computer won’t be overloaded, which is all fine and great, but that household was mine. I don’t really give a fuck if the pre-loaded families like the Sekemotos or the Altos randomly move out of the neighborhood without a trace. Why does the fucking program have to single out the household I play all the time? I mean, c’mon, Wind and Andrew married in China! The have three babies! Why did they have to disappear!
Pan - The first three letters from my long-ass, Tagalog-as-Tagalog-can-be surname. I’m not complaining about its origins, it’s just really, really long. Unlike Natalie Tran or Bea Sigua, which can be Tumblr URL’s by themselves.
Yep, that’s it. No song lyrics to dissect, no philosophical shit. I’m a very minimalist individual, what can I say.
Day 03 — What you did today
I made an entry earlier today tackling precisely this here.
TMI piece of info: I forgot to put on deodorant this morning. I know what you’re thinking, who the fuck does that? Well, I do. Like on the 2nd day of OrSem, I forgot to brush my teeth. If you think you’re absentminded, I just beat you by 500 miles. (Also, I lost my umbrella yesterday. It had served me well ever since Grade 5. :’( )
Miko and Tonton started talking about DotA, Starcraft, Counterstrike, Ragnarok—there were others, but I lost track. They were comparing their “strategies” and somehow always managed to make the same appropriate ~sound effects~ whenever [Hero Name Here]’s [Hero’s Power Here] is mentioned. For instance: Miko: Tangina, pare, lagi kong gamit si [Hero Name Here]. Tonton: Tangina, oo, yung [Hero’s Power Here]! Miko: Oo, GAGO, TRIPLE KILL! Tonton and Miko: BOOM! PSSHHH! BOOM! TANGINAAAA!
Alex (whom a waitress referred to as ‘Sir’ last Tuesday at Kenny’s), Miko, Tonton and Mikah tried to “convert” me to listen to “proper music”, which to them was basically some muscly men growling to 50 guitars in falsetto tones. I was traumatized. Do you know why I have a crush on that guy from Bluerep? Because he sings like Aaron Tveit to me. Aaron Tveit is the sort of guy your muscly metal men would want to beat up.
I saw Bea Sigua in school today! At the EDSA walk!! She was with milkthecow!!! I don’t know why I’m using exclamation points, it’s not like I met Fernando Torres, but it’s still very cool when you see Tumblr people in real life!!!! (I didn’t say hi. Na-shy ako e.)
Intense 10-wheeler truck-caused traffic jam in Q Ave while I was heading home. UGH, NAKAKA-BV MAG-COMMUTE.
Remember the awkward-tastic emails I sent my prospective GUIDON editors? Well, my Inquiry editor just fucking replied to me. Yes, if you’re thinking I haven’t opened my inbox since finding out he replied, well you get a cookie.
Last Tuesday, I wrote a very sweet message on my cousin’s wall because he’s currently working in Singapore and I miss him a lot. Today, he replied with a message. Like, seriously Kuya Mick, would it kill you to just like my wall post? What’s worse is that he started his message with super-awkward questions. Ugh, I’m sorry, but now I have to agree with Hermione. Men have a collective emotional capacity of a teaspoon. That, and they obsess over video games like little boys. Why do we need them again?
But seriously, I miss my cousin because he taught me to swim and he’s a fucking Physicist. I mean, seriously, how many people have Physicists for cousins? And my Physics 2 teacher has all his mannerisms (I don’t know if it’s a Physics People Quirk or a total coincidence) and it’s weird but every time he does something that reminds me of my cousin, I literally have to restrain myself to come up to him and hug him, because fuck, that would be so awkward. :( Cue appropriate hipster graphic:
And because I want to avoid feeling the need to duck behind garbage cans whenever any of my prospective editors and I cross paths, I didn’t just disappear from my interview. I sent both of them some awkward-tastic emails. So now I’m kind of avoiding opening my email inbox.
This is exactly how I’m reacting to my mother blocking me from my enjoyment of seeing Spain win the World Cup in order for me to prioritize my actual responsibilities, like school and a certain publication I consciously, willingly applied for that I kind of want to back out from now, except that I have to be, again, ~responsible~.
thanks to my application to The GUIDON I actually can’t write anything. True story.
I’ve been trying to condense a news story into eight lines or less for the past two hours but I haven’t been able to do it. There’s a knot on my chest and I feel so lightheaded. The only things running in my mind right now is how to finish my application requirements by Thursday. And my Writing Cluster exams on Monday.
Really, who does that? Stressing out so much about an application to a newspaper I actually can’t write. What a cruel twist of irony this is.
I can’t write. I can’t write. I can’t write.
Invade the bell tower and alert the town elders! Or something.
One of the requirements for my Inquiry application to The GUIDON is a critique on a Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative article. This is the one I chose. It’s very compelling. I know they use that adjective to describe investigative articles all the time, but this one really is.
You know how my sister insistently talks about winning a Tony someday? When my second year HS English teacher asked us what we wanted to achieve through our writing, I unblinking wrote down, “Make even just a small dent in someone’s consciousness” and half-jokingly added, “Win a Pulitzer Prize.”
Magta-transfer na ko sa Comm.
* I just found out from “The EDITORIAL STYLE GUIDE” my could be-editor sent me that it’s supposed to be typed as The GUIDON, not the GUIDON, GUIDON or the Guidon
I’m 16 years old and I have a resume! It’s for my Guidon application and for submission to the Ateneo Placement Office so our Dean (School of Humanities) can convince people to give us jobs and we won’t end up in call centers or some other dead-end job. Exciting, right?
It’s only 233 words long and yet it took me all afternoon to write it. I literally had to Google “skills” to figure out what sort of skills I may actually have.
I came up with this in the end:
I can effectively communicate information verbally and through writing in accordance to the needs of a given audience. I can work efficiently alone and with others, and can coordinate my work and schedule to fit others’ needs. I am computer literate and can work with all programs in the Microsoft Office Suite. I am a very enthusiastic learner who is open to critiques of my work and is always eager to find ways of improving my performance.
If were reading that aloud and a buzzer sounded every time I read a part I may have “elaborated”…
Whatever. I totally have other things going for me. PSSSHHHH.
On a more serious note though, the only reason I really did study hard for the Diagnostic Test is because I don’t want to further shave off my parents’ already thin budget for my education. *cue violins* But I can’t really pretend I have any amount of Math skillz. Because I just don’t have any. I don’t have any. I don’t have any.
For our first meeting, my Ma 1 prof asked us to write down our feelings about Math and why we’re so afraid of it (translation: why we suck at it). I wrote down an entire history of my failing grades in Math. I’m not kidding when I say the first failing grade I ever got in my entire academic career is a 70 in Math back in Grade 1. Foreshadow, anyone?
Edit: Fuck, Tumblr, how small do my gifs have to be so THEY CAN MOVE ON THE DASHBOARD?
has exponentially increased thanks to my application to the Guidon. I’m not giving up, of course, because as lazy as I like to think I am, I’m actually not very lazy at all compared to all my blockmates in all my classes. I do the work, okay? I just like to take my sweet time doing it. Really, I do.
The application entails…
taking a standard exam for all the wannabe staffers, plus a specialized exam for each section of the Guidon you’d like to be a part of. I’m applying for two sections, so that means 3 tests all in all. :(
submitting a portfolio of my past works from the Theresian magazine, which, to be honest, are all basically crap. All I was ever asked to write about were shitty events like theme launchings no one really cared about and people were only thankful for because we didn’t have classes.
submitting other written works from high school, including a features article, a research paper, and a reflection paper. Everything I did in high school was typed between 9 PM to 4 AM under the blurry influence of caffeine. To say that editing will be needed is an understatement.
writing three very detailed proposals for investigative report pieces that have to be ~*RELEVANT*~ to the Ateneo community.
writing an all-new, 2-page news article about a crime/event/whatever that happened in Katipunan involving Ateneans. I need to interview everyone involved, including barangay officials.
I’d steam forward, but I think at this point you’re already sorry for me. I feel like I’m standing in front of a gigantic mountain with no idea how to start climbing it. Without my inhaler. Without my inhaler. Without my inhaler.
Oh, and I have 3 interviews. :( One for each Guidon editor of the section I’m applying for, and another for my application to DevSoc.
So not only will I be mentally exhausted by the end of this week, my social quotient will have also decreased exponentially from the amount of interviews I have to show up for, and the amount of interviews with barangay officials I have to conduct.
It’s July 5, 2009 and right now, you are procrastinating from writing your Ateneo essay. In fact, you woke up at 6:30 this morning to write said essay, but 2 hours later, you are still reading Harry Potter fan fics, which is your favorite way to procrastinate. That, and Artemis Fowl fics of course.
You really take this Ateneo stuff a bit more seriously than necessary because you WANT TO GO TO ATENEO. I, PastYou, will probably cry like a baby if I don’t get in.
You just had a striking conversation with Vicky yesterday via YM. If you do get in Ateneo, you should definitely thank her.
But wherever you are now, whether its La Salle, UP, CSB or UST, I hope you’re happy. But I really, really hope you’re in Ateneo.