I need to attend a social function which involves mingling with my high school classmates tomorrow, and while they’re great people, there’s this one girl I can’t won’t be able to look in the eye because of the amount of grammatical errors in her Tumblr just makes me all judge-y. Every time she’ll look me in the eye tomorrow, all I’ll be able to think about is that entry where she paired up that incorrect verb tense with that noun, or her overall awkward sentence construction. And how I snickered to myself through all of it. It’s a mixed feeling of guilt and awkwardness, to be honest.
I seriously have a sickness. Clearly peer checking in En11 hasn’t done me any good.
So my friend just asked me to describe my 'ideal man'
because, to paraphrase her words and highlight what they connoted, I’ve only ever crushed on celebrities and my opinion is untainted by any real relationship which means my ideal man is truly still “ideal”. Umm, thanks?
But since she’s a good friend who needs another A, she gets away with laughing at my aloneness. Besides, I need practice to hone my writing skills for Lit13. So anyway… what about my ‘ideal man’?
A socialist revolutionary with a great set of eyebrows, asthma, and a medical degree. See also: Che Guevara
I’m kidding, of course, because this entire situation just bleeds awkward. So first requirement: He should get (or at least tolerate) my communist jokes and my tendency to exaggerate my personality when faced with uncomfortable situations. Onto the (real) list, then:
Cleverness is a must. It’s more important to me than his dress sense or his height. But I don’t mean ‘academic book smart’ with the straight A’s. Stray D’s are fine with me. He just needs to be clever in a sense that he’ll debate with me about the Church’s patriarchy looming over the Reproductive Health Bill, or that he’ll recommend that I read Tolstoy or Hemingway to overcome my slight aversion to certain classics.
He needs to be the sort of person who has an opinion on absolutely everything happening in the country because I’m mostly passive about such things. His interest should go beyond awareness and extend to criticism. We don’t need to agree on everything as long as he won’t picket on behalf of the Cojuangcos in the Luisita ordeal.
Acts of chivalry annoy me and I think the typical “gentleman” who will open doors and pull chairs is an antiquated concept. As long as he has proper conduct, is courteous and acts maturely, even without the door-opening, that’s already fine with me. Odds are, unless I’m seriously broke, all our dates will be KKB.
Progressive-thinking, please. I cannot stand having to argue with someone who is against contraceptives and thinks God will help us through the population crisis or whatever.
He needs to be artistically inclined, even if he suppressed his artsy side in favor of a secure future with a mundane major like Management Information Systems (loljk). Being a good writer, or at least perfectly aware of the basic rules of grammar, is a must for me because otherwise I’d just drive him away with my grammar Nazi-ness. (“Really? That verb tense with that noun?”)
He needs to play a sport. Or at least be very well versed in the rules of tennis and football, so I’ll have someone to watch with whenever Aren is in class or hiding in a hole somewhere while her mom is hogging the computer harvesting in FarmVille.
This is probably the only physical characteristic: A great set of eyebrows (creepy “type” is creepy, I know). Please beguidedaccordingly.
He needs to be nice and have heaps and heaps of patience. Because honestly, I’m not an easy person to get along with. I actively ignore my friends’ texts when I’m too lazy to reply (a treatment he’ll probably receive too), I sometimes roll my eyes by reflex when I’m being forced to engage in small talks, and do absolutely everything last-minute, even choosing clothes for school. Which all adds up to the fact that I will probably die alone. Or not really alone, just with my sister. And her cats.
Alright, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for today.
and because I have anal retentive tendencies, I computed for my so-far QPI:
2.3 might be a nice average in UP or UST (I think) where the highest possible grade is 1.0, but here in Ateneo, our highest possible grade is 4.0, like GPA’s abroad which may or may not have been the influence of American Jesuits (I was probably asleep during the INTACT session where they explained all of this). As far as QPI’s go, mine isn’t exactly stellar. The minimum required QPI to stay in Ateneo is 1.8, and while mine is more than enough (I get a 2.0 even if I fail fucking Physics!), I’m not celebrating it either.
So in an attempt to be more directive and goal-oriented, I’ve decided I shall aim for an ideal yet achievable QPI of at least 2.8:
Meanwhile, I still have a Lit movie analysis to do (Btw, I haven’t seen the movie yet) and a Physics long test to study for by tomorrow.
Post Lab for Physics. Shit son, I’m the Art Management major here! Aren’t you MIS lot supposed to be better at MS Excel? Why did you even major in that if you can’t make a simple fucking scatter graph and use auto-number crunching MS Excel functions?
Walang Sugat reaction paper. How do you say, “Walang Sugat is the theaterical equivalent of a romantic popcorn movie which barely grazes on socio-political issues rampant during the Spanish colonial period and focuses more on wrapping the love story up in the happiest way possible.” in Tagalog?
Eat another bite of the healthy gunk I’ve subjected myself to. There are only 3 spoonfuls left but I might as well have been asked to finish every last drop of water in a well.
for the Lit paper I had condemned to C paper-ness after I finished cramming for it at 2 am. I should be relieved except Ivery (my Lit prof) admitted to us that she pitied most of the class who got a C and just very much refrained herself from slapping on D’s or F’s on our generally thesis statement-less, directionless, sometimes idea-less papers. Which sets the bar pretty low. If the D and F people got a C, does that mean I actually have a C instead of a B?
I was never someone in pursuit of academic excellence, but admittedly my academic self-esteem is mostly attached to English, Lit and Social Science classes. When did I start contenting myself with mediocrity for Lit papers, which I used to love to write? When did I decide it’s okay to submit “C papers” just to get a requirement over and done with? I feel like such a mechanical, passionless person right now. I could have sworn at some point in my life I was a good writer.
I might as well start solving my problem set for Physics as long as I’m being Miss Academic Excellence. This mood will mostly likely evaporate any minute now.
Last Sunday, I ordered a top from my friend’s friend’s Multiply business. My friend’s friend didn’t reply immediately so I legitimately thought the Internet must have died when I clicked on Send and just decided to forget about it, the top isn’t all that great anyway, and there are other ways to spend P 250.
So from then to earlier today, I’ve spent my money on a Walang Sugat playbill (I tell people it’s for our Fil report, but my crush was on that play okay), food, and Gatorade for PE.
But I literally just received an email from my friend’s friend asking me to meet her at Matteo tomorrow to pick up my order. I’m pretty sure I don’t have P 250 anymore. Pretty sure. Rather certain, actually. Umm, where did all my money go?
So I replied to her email telling her I “can no longer prioritize” my order because “unexpected expenses” came up for “my org and Fil class”. And I immediately signed out of Y!M after clicking send.
Because I’m an awkward penguin who hides from email replies. My prospective GUIDON editor’s reply to my application revoking-email is still sitting unread in my inbox.
“Even if I could have believed in the communist ideology, I could no longer believe in the people or the system that was responsible for putting that ideology and those principles into practice.”—Lieutenant Mamiya, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
Pass this month’s Physics long test. I’m aiming for at least a C. But I guess I can settle for anything but an F, which is what I got last time.
Participate in org activities! Don’t pass on Lit Soc discussions! Okay, I admit I have ulterior motives here because there’s this guy in Lit Soc that I really like. But hey, that’s Freudian psychology for you. My sex drive is begging me to attend those book club meetings.
Get my hands on a copy of the new Artemis Fowl book. And pass on Haruki Murakami for a while. I think reading him has only succeeded in pushing me in my head even more.
Finish the entire season of Pretty Little Liars. It’s an entertaining show, okay, don’t judge me!
HAY GURL HAAAAAY.
How many Fernando Torres pictures am I gonna have to post to make you forget about your ~~expensive Ateneo tuition for a while and get you to watch the Liverpool v Arsenal game? :D?
Possibly more than FYFT is posting now. :))
AND OMG GURL 27 NA PALA SIYA. WHAT. LITTOL BOY LOOK OK.
One of the things that irritates me the most about my blockmates, lovely people that they are, is that they can’t seem to comprehend that there are instances in my life when I really don’t mind being alone. This isn’t to say that I prefer being alone all the time. Having lunch with them is actually a riot, even if it means I have to endure Miko laughing with his mouth wide-open, unabashedly giving a view to his half-chewed banana fritters.
There are just certain periods when I actually prefer aloneness to enduring awkward small talks, which is probably my most hated social formality. And however awkward my impression to you may be, I won’t crumple over and turn cathartic the moment you leave me alone. I have a lot of issues, I get it, but codependency isn’t one of them.
because however sweet and possessing of old woman charm my dentist is, she still puts a drill in my mouth and has a poke around. She also tells me to please not jerk away from the drill if something hurts and just kindly make an exclamation expressing my discomfort instead.
There are times when I want to just snap at her and tell her that I can’t help it, I’m not the exclaiming sort of person, but she’s such a nice woman I can never bring myself to do it, and besides, there’s a drill in my mouth.
A while ago I had to get my braces fixed, and additionally I had to get a cavity nicely cleaned and covered so I seemed to have spent centuries and centuries on the dentist chair. There were whiny kids around me refusing to yield to the other dentist’s (my dentist’s husband) pathetic whims to kindly please open your mouth, there were waiting room adults talking in length about the tuition increase, and my dentist was uncomfortably trying to get me to chat with her again. (I don’t know why she does that when, again, there was a drill in my mouth.)
I can’t wait to get my braces taken off so I will only have to visit the dentist twice a year, instead of my usual once a month, plus plus.
OHMYGOD ROGER, YOU CAN’T KEEP WRITING SONGS FOR YOUR DYING AUTOIMMUNE DISEASE STRICKEN GIRLFRIEND. YOU HAVE TO SELL THEM SOMETIMES. AND I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT YOUR FUCKING GUITAR. GET A FUCKING JOB, ROGER, AND STOP CALLING ME A YUPPIE SCUM OK.
Because I need more reasons to procrastinate and answering questions from my friends pretending to be strangers seems fun. Now please just ask me a question before I die of shame or drown in my own hypocrisy.
I have Physics Lab every Monday from 2:30 - 4:30 PM and it comes after PE, so as you can imagine if you’ve been following my blog for quite a while (HAHA, YEAH, ALL FOUR OF YOU!), that I usually come in this particular class with a not-so-great mood. I have three Lab groupmates that make up our harmonious-enough group of four and we get along quite peaceably to measure falling things, all of us with the unified goal of simply submitting our Post Lab Reports on time.
Last Monday one of my lab groupmates, who is the only female in the group aside from myself, went up to me and just hugged me out of the blue. And me being me, I was thrown back by her gesture and outright told her, “Umm, okay, that’s weird.” She’s one of those overly social people so she seemed to be offended by my rebuff. I tried to explain to her that hugging isn’t cool with me unless we’re at a certain point in a relationship, no matter how platonic, because I’m a freaky introverted claustrophobic weird person that way.
But then one of my male groupmates, in an annoying, smart-ass way, said, “E pag lalaki mag-hug sa’yo, hindi ka pa rin papayag?” (What if a guy went up to hug you, will you still refuse?) I told him, “I resent your sexist statement, and just for that, I would refuse to hug a guy all the more,” and just let it go.
“One day an invitation arrived at their house. The prince was celebrating his exploitation of the dispossessed and marginalized peasantry by throwing a fancy dress ball.”—My favorite line from James Finn Garner’s “Cinderella”, a part of Politically Correct Bedtime Stories: Modern Tales for Our Life and Times.