There are things that are, just naturally, out of our control. We may be the smartest, most powerful creatures on earth. Yet, we are not gods. We are not superhuman. And for every time I've told Gabs that I was superwoman and that I can do anything I set my mind to--rubbish--I take that back.
In full truth, the only way one can survive any unfortunate life is through the consideration of other people. We live so luckily because someone else is there to back us up. Take my circumstances, for instance. I've had these hallucinations since I was three; I was born with binocular vision anomalies; I was born with a weak upper respiratory system. But I survived each day with the provisions of my parents. Food, private school education, medication and all I need are provided by these two people.
True, there are things that I learned to do on my own, as I grew up. But it didn't mean that I could control everything. I did my best, and only hoped that my best was good enough--just like a lot of other people. For the longest time, yes, my best was good enough. I was smart enough, I tried hard enough. But I could not do everything I wanted without paying the price.
My health was always at stake, and everything got worse and worse as I grew up.
I still did try to continue to do my best at anything and everything that comes my way. All the quirkiest ideas I had, I tried to bring to life. There was so much I wanted to do--I still do now, you see. I was ambitious. I grew up in a world where I was exposed to the heights of accomplishment: what I could become, and what others already are and how I could surpass them. Learning, on its own, was great fun to me. And my education seemed to me like an adventure than a burden. Every bit of information was an enjoyable delight, a new door to open in the palace of insurmountable knowledge. The only thing I could complain about school is the grading system with which we are cursed. Perhaps it is to challenge students who think studying is a burden to their lives. But to people who actually enjoy it, why else? It becomes something to fear.
Fear? Fear numbers? Fear mere numbers, when in fact, humans like we invented the very system by which the existence of numbers was made possible?
Absolutely preposterous.
But it is the truth.
On each day, we fear the number of how much we spend, and how much is left. We fear the number of days before something terrible might come. We fear, in fact, all numbers with which we are judged by society: rank, marks, salary, and the like.
Numbers are, by design, the materialization of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein's Monster.
And the more we look at these numbers, the more we fear them.
And what we fear most would be the numbers we could not reach and the numbers we could not control.
And though I was never the one to be grade conscious, I always told myself that I should not fail anything at school, simply because I know that I can do things. But then, I must remind myself now that I cannot do everything. I will fail at something, not meet the standards of a particular number. And I will have no power at all to change it.
For that is the circumstance of life.
I cannot change the number of the levels of colonies of streptococci I carry, to be specific, it is 200. I cannot change the fact that my erythrocyte sedimentation rate is 41. But I also cannot change the fact that due to these things, I have been absent for ten days, which I can never regain. Recitation marks, seat works and school activities which I could nevermore take.
And for another day, I was absent. The day of the Christmas party, marked by the numbers 12-18-2009. It was also the day when I was supposed to take an English Oral Exam, depicting the character of Hera, Goddess of Marriage and wife of Zeus.
By a number that I could not predict, nor control, I was absent on that day. That was the day when 10% of my grade would be erased from the class which I attended least due to sickness.
Needless to say, there are certain things, certain numbers, which are out of my reach. Things that are out of my control.
I am human. And whatever outcome of my grades, these numbers will never make me any less human than I am now.
I just hope that they're enough for college.
22.12.09
21.11.09
Dear Mother! I Have A Confession!
I have been very unproductive, as of late. Quite honestly, I wasted a week at home, with a stomach flu that completely ruined my calendar. I never intended to have a date with the flu--or eleven of them, completely erasing two weeks from my schedule. Fantastic. I smell like the hospital now.
It all started on Tuesday evening. Mom commented on how some bottles of juice were being ignored, and were growing old in the fridge. Growing up, the family motto was "never waste food", so naturally, I took the liberty of opening a bottle and drinking it halfway.
My stomach starts to hurt. But I got by. I blamed the juice, but carried on the next day.
Cue sunrise, Wednesday morning.
On Wednesday, Thursday AND Friday, I have all sorts of these digestive problems. It either went up or went down, but who cares? It was irregular, so that's just what I'll say.
Fast Forward = Saturday.
On Saturday, I had to go to a workshop at school. I spent the entire week persuading my mother to allow me to go. She argued that I could only go if I wasn't sick. So my mother gave me some medicine, to stop the irregularity and the stomach pains.
I'd have to say, it worked.
It worked a little too well.
Later on, the pain returned, fade out to Monday for it. We went to the doctor's, and yes! She said that I shouldn't have taken the medication, because the irregularity was the body's natural counter-attack towards a horrible army of bacteria and viruses.
I apparently had the intestinal flu, and we made it worse.
And then I vomited in the hospital, saying goodbye to a Cafe Au Lait and a BLT Ciabatta which I had for lunch earlier on.
Wind the clock to Tuesday morning, I was rushed to the E.R. for the same reason. I had my ultrasound taken (and guess what? I'm not pregnant!) and we found out that the cyst inside my ovaries from last summer had either returned, or never really left in the first place. Fantastic.
Mark the calendar for another Wednesday, it's been a week. Count it. I was already in my uniform that morning, thinking I was okay and ready for school. And then I ran to hug the toilet and hurl.
So much for an optimistic spirit.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday. My mom and I decided not to try, instead. For one thing, there were barely any classes on those three days, and they were mostly filled with events.
Sick people + School Programs =/= happiness.
Trust me when I say that they do not mix.
It all started on Tuesday evening. Mom commented on how some bottles of juice were being ignored, and were growing old in the fridge. Growing up, the family motto was "never waste food", so naturally, I took the liberty of opening a bottle and drinking it halfway.
My stomach starts to hurt. But I got by. I blamed the juice, but carried on the next day.
Cue sunrise, Wednesday morning.
On Wednesday, Thursday AND Friday, I have all sorts of these digestive problems. It either went up or went down, but who cares? It was irregular, so that's just what I'll say.
Fast Forward = Saturday.
On Saturday, I had to go to a workshop at school. I spent the entire week persuading my mother to allow me to go. She argued that I could only go if I wasn't sick. So my mother gave me some medicine, to stop the irregularity and the stomach pains.
I'd have to say, it worked.
It worked a little too well.
Later on, the pain returned, fade out to Monday for it. We went to the doctor's, and yes! She said that I shouldn't have taken the medication, because the irregularity was the body's natural counter-attack towards a horrible army of bacteria and viruses.
I apparently had the intestinal flu, and we made it worse.
And then I vomited in the hospital, saying goodbye to a Cafe Au Lait and a BLT Ciabatta which I had for lunch earlier on.
Wind the clock to Tuesday morning, I was rushed to the E.R. for the same reason. I had my ultrasound taken (and guess what? I'm not pregnant!) and we found out that the cyst inside my ovaries from last summer had either returned, or never really left in the first place. Fantastic.
Mark the calendar for another Wednesday, it's been a week. Count it. I was already in my uniform that morning, thinking I was okay and ready for school. And then I ran to hug the toilet and hurl.
So much for an optimistic spirit.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday. My mom and I decided not to try, instead. For one thing, there were barely any classes on those three days, and they were mostly filled with events.
Sick people + School Programs =/= happiness.
Trust me when I say that they do not mix.
A Note To Self: On Suicide
Dear Self,
It is I, you.
We wrote this letter to remind ourselves that we dislike suicide. Of all things, we love ourselves. However, we also love other people. If they left us like that, don't we think it is sad?
And yet, at some point, we agree that if they attempt to kill themselves, then they should have just gone on with it and died altogether. Truly, we see it pointless. We are always relieved that the people we love most are alive, and continue to live. However, it comes to the point when we question ourselves why they did it in the first place, if it was our fault or if we could have done something to prevent it from happening again to our most loved people.
Sometimes we think that if they just died, then they would. They would die. They would fester. They would rot. They would decay. They would be forgotten. And the only ones to remember them would not be us, but the worms who are grateful for their tasty lunch, and the trees who are grateful for the nourishment they provide.
Suicide is a sad, sad occurence. And we, just like anyone else, do not like remembering sad occurences. Naturally, we will forget these people if they kill themselves. And only the things that benefit from their death will remember it. Only the people who are happy that they died will cherish the moment.
But we will not be happy if they would die. No one will ever benefit from someone's self-inflicted death.
We would like the people in our lives to remember that on each day we continue to live. We endure the pain because it will go away. And we share our joys with people we love the most. And so should they. We would like to remind our friends that we love them. And no matter how many people in the world would hate them, that would never match up to the life they lived because we are here to make someone else's life worthwhile, just as they made our lives something more than what it originally seemed.
Self, please be reminded that we want our friends and loved ones to tell us what happened. It is alright for us to hear a sad story about their pains, because we will share a part of us so they can endure it all. We understand that, at times, life is not lived. Sometimes, it is survived. But that is only for some time, and afterwards, we live it as much as a life can be lived.
Simply because that is what we do with lives. We live them.
Truly, dear friend, thank you for reading through our letter to ourselves. We hope we send ourselves a reply.
Sincerely,
You
P.S. I hope you do not take what we wrote in the first part seriously. Of course we do not want them to die[!], silly us! We love them. (It is all-and more than-that we could do for them.)
--
Lately, a number of friends have told me that they attempted to kill themselves. Sometimes, I want to ask them, "then why aren't you dead?" But then, that's just mean. When I'm with them, I worry about the things I should say.
What's worse is that they don't want to talk about things. Or sometimes, they don't tell you for a long time.
Sometimes, they trash their car, ruin a tree, and their children stay at your house for a whole week while they're at the hospital, even when you have school. And you have to endure it all, and listen to them when they cry every night about their mother.
Sometimes, you'll think that it's your fault because you weren't with them.
And sometimes, you keep on worrying on what to do so it wouldn't happen again.
Dear friends, remember that your loved ones understand, just as much as you do, that life is very, very difficult to get through. But also remember that they are affected by everything that happens to you, and killing yourself would be almost as bad as killing them.
And attempting to kill yourself is as bad as stabbing your friend, and leaving them with a scar that lasts forever.
So really, stop trying to leave us on Earth. You'll leave when it's your time, but until then, we're here with you.
Okay?
Okay.
It is I, you.
We wrote this letter to remind ourselves that we dislike suicide. Of all things, we love ourselves. However, we also love other people. If they left us like that, don't we think it is sad?
And yet, at some point, we agree that if they attempt to kill themselves, then they should have just gone on with it and died altogether. Truly, we see it pointless. We are always relieved that the people we love most are alive, and continue to live. However, it comes to the point when we question ourselves why they did it in the first place, if it was our fault or if we could have done something to prevent it from happening again to our most loved people.
Sometimes we think that if they just died, then they would. They would die. They would fester. They would rot. They would decay. They would be forgotten. And the only ones to remember them would not be us, but the worms who are grateful for their tasty lunch, and the trees who are grateful for the nourishment they provide.
Suicide is a sad, sad occurence. And we, just like anyone else, do not like remembering sad occurences. Naturally, we will forget these people if they kill themselves. And only the things that benefit from their death will remember it. Only the people who are happy that they died will cherish the moment.
But we will not be happy if they would die. No one will ever benefit from someone's self-inflicted death.
We would like the people in our lives to remember that on each day we continue to live. We endure the pain because it will go away. And we share our joys with people we love the most. And so should they. We would like to remind our friends that we love them. And no matter how many people in the world would hate them, that would never match up to the life they lived because we are here to make someone else's life worthwhile, just as they made our lives something more than what it originally seemed.
Self, please be reminded that we want our friends and loved ones to tell us what happened. It is alright for us to hear a sad story about their pains, because we will share a part of us so they can endure it all. We understand that, at times, life is not lived. Sometimes, it is survived. But that is only for some time, and afterwards, we live it as much as a life can be lived.
Simply because that is what we do with lives. We live them.
Truly, dear friend, thank you for reading through our letter to ourselves. We hope we send ourselves a reply.
Sincerely,
You
P.S. I hope you do not take what we wrote in the first part seriously. Of course we do not want them to die[!], silly us! We love them. (It is all-and more than-that we could do for them.)
--
Lately, a number of friends have told me that they attempted to kill themselves. Sometimes, I want to ask them, "then why aren't you dead?" But then, that's just mean. When I'm with them, I worry about the things I should say.
What's worse is that they don't want to talk about things. Or sometimes, they don't tell you for a long time.
Sometimes, they trash their car, ruin a tree, and their children stay at your house for a whole week while they're at the hospital, even when you have school. And you have to endure it all, and listen to them when they cry every night about their mother.
Sometimes, you'll think that it's your fault because you weren't with them.
And sometimes, you keep on worrying on what to do so it wouldn't happen again.
Dear friends, remember that your loved ones understand, just as much as you do, that life is very, very difficult to get through. But also remember that they are affected by everything that happens to you, and killing yourself would be almost as bad as killing them.
And attempting to kill yourself is as bad as stabbing your friend, and leaving them with a scar that lasts forever.
So really, stop trying to leave us on Earth. You'll leave when it's your time, but until then, we're here with you.
Okay?
Okay.
3.10.09
Absolutely Weird...No, not really.
Most kids get, "do the dishes!" or "was the car!" But, nooo. I have to go re-fold every article of clothing found in our dresser, make soup from scratch, re-lace my father's shoes or install the new toilet seat.
I'm not really complaining. Oh, no. I don't do chores very often. So I guess I get stuck with odd jobs like these. They're, in the connotation of chores, fun. Fun, in a sense that it's not what you usually expect of a chore. Making soup, re-lacing shoes--they seem like normal things to do. But you know that not everyone gets tasked with them everyday. And you start doing things at your own pace and try to think up weirder, more interesting ways to do them.
For example, making soup--you put in a bunch of herbs for fun, and even hoisin sauce for absolutely no reason. The often normal chicken and corn soup turned into an Asian-scented soup with sesame oil. But it's still thick--and creamy!--like how Americans make their soup. But then I turned the soup into something really weird by adding in stuff like Thyme, sage, rosemary, basil--just really weird stuff for all the random reasons. And you end up with some weird, confused soup that people end up liking. I guess soup isn't a very weird job. But in the days of the oh-so familiar instant soup (from Knorr, of all companies) making soup from scratch isn't really a norm in the Philippine society, ne? Anyone could have been tasked to make a main dish, perhaps a sort of stew for the family. Most Asian kids are just asked to prepare the rice. I usually get to make the soup or the dessert. I don't know, but it's just fun-ner that way, I suppose.
And because I don't do these things every day, I guess even if you can call them normal things, you'll end up enjoying them. Why? Well, simply because, they're not something you do every day.
That's what I call logic.
Maybe kids should be treated this way. They shouldn't be given too many chores on a daily basis. Just one or two odd jobs will do. And they'll end up enjoying the weirdest and simplest things, just because they're not there. In a sense, they'll learn to notice that you wouldn't have this on the next day. Today, you'll be asked to make soup. The next, you wouldn't have a care in the world. It's like noticing that today, you'll have your family, your home, five cars, two dogs and three maids. Tomorrow, a flood may come and kill a fraction of your family, destroy all the appliances in the first floor of your mansion and destroy all the engines of three of your cars. Simply put, nothing in life is truly monotonous. Even in chores. What is today is today. Tomorrow shall be reserved for tomorrow. And everything is simple. But everything is different.
This post wasn't really meant for anything or whatever. I just wanted to write something while I'm waiting for dinner. Aheh.
Anyway, I'd like everyone to direct their attention to ~demitasse-lover's gallery. There are two new pieces called 30 Lives and...another one I forgot. They're for the typhoon victims.
Oh, and Super Typhoon Pepeng update: it's coming tonight at 9pm. I'd really have to get everything charged--my laptop, cellphone, etc. Just in case it hits us hard. They said that it's going to be worse than Super Typhoon Milenyo from years back. But we aren't sure if it will cause as much as, or perhaps, more so, as the current Ondoy/Ketsana.
Haiii, the people haven't recovered yet, Mother Earth. Can't we stop for a while and take a breather? Eh, I know your answer. We can't, can we? Agggghhhh. Oh well. There's nothing for it than being prepared.
Goodbye, friends. If I do not update tomorrow, it means that the typhoon has hit us hard.
I'm not really complaining. Oh, no. I don't do chores very often. So I guess I get stuck with odd jobs like these. They're, in the connotation of chores, fun. Fun, in a sense that it's not what you usually expect of a chore. Making soup, re-lacing shoes--they seem like normal things to do. But you know that not everyone gets tasked with them everyday. And you start doing things at your own pace and try to think up weirder, more interesting ways to do them.
For example, making soup--you put in a bunch of herbs for fun, and even hoisin sauce for absolutely no reason. The often normal chicken and corn soup turned into an Asian-scented soup with sesame oil. But it's still thick--and creamy!--like how Americans make their soup. But then I turned the soup into something really weird by adding in stuff like Thyme, sage, rosemary, basil--just really weird stuff for all the random reasons. And you end up with some weird, confused soup that people end up liking. I guess soup isn't a very weird job. But in the days of the oh-so familiar instant soup (from Knorr, of all companies) making soup from scratch isn't really a norm in the Philippine society, ne? Anyone could have been tasked to make a main dish, perhaps a sort of stew for the family. Most Asian kids are just asked to prepare the rice. I usually get to make the soup or the dessert. I don't know, but it's just fun-ner that way, I suppose.
And because I don't do these things every day, I guess even if you can call them normal things, you'll end up enjoying them. Why? Well, simply because, they're not something you do every day.
That's what I call logic.
Maybe kids should be treated this way. They shouldn't be given too many chores on a daily basis. Just one or two odd jobs will do. And they'll end up enjoying the weirdest and simplest things, just because they're not there. In a sense, they'll learn to notice that you wouldn't have this on the next day. Today, you'll be asked to make soup. The next, you wouldn't have a care in the world. It's like noticing that today, you'll have your family, your home, five cars, two dogs and three maids. Tomorrow, a flood may come and kill a fraction of your family, destroy all the appliances in the first floor of your mansion and destroy all the engines of three of your cars. Simply put, nothing in life is truly monotonous. Even in chores. What is today is today. Tomorrow shall be reserved for tomorrow. And everything is simple. But everything is different.
This post wasn't really meant for anything or whatever. I just wanted to write something while I'm waiting for dinner. Aheh.
Anyway, I'd like everyone to direct their attention to ~demitasse-lover's gallery. There are two new pieces called 30 Lives and...another one I forgot. They're for the typhoon victims.
Oh, and Super Typhoon Pepeng update: it's coming tonight at 9pm. I'd really have to get everything charged--my laptop, cellphone, etc. Just in case it hits us hard. They said that it's going to be worse than Super Typhoon Milenyo from years back. But we aren't sure if it will cause as much as, or perhaps, more so, as the current Ondoy/Ketsana.
Haiii, the people haven't recovered yet, Mother Earth. Can't we stop for a while and take a breather? Eh, I know your answer. We can't, can we? Agggghhhh. Oh well. There's nothing for it than being prepared.
Goodbye, friends. If I do not update tomorrow, it means that the typhoon has hit us hard.
14.9.09
Post-Midnight Mayhem, More Than I Expected
It was an exciting week. All things completely ordinary, nevertheless, they were fun. They popped out without notice (because, well, that's what popped out means?) And things from catterpillars to getting lost in the rain...to seeing your old chemistry teacher, who was once boyish and now in PINK and with Prada strapped on her shoulder--and the most fantastic thing of having a party with your team of writers and editors (with no alcohol, duh, nevertheless, the funnest party to date)--all of it, whether in summation or as individual statements of fact...
They were surprising.
Even the part where you make your homework and projects, surprising indeed!
...in the worst way.
You make them sparingly through the week, so you can spend the rest of the weekend left to some relaxation--something I badly needed at this point--or for some work to be finished at a leisurely pace.
At a leisurely pace, mind you.
And then.
You hold a party, because you think it's all done.
You go to the mall with your family and niece and nephew to celebrate Grandparents' day...because you think the school work's all over...
You come home and spend a little more time with your niece, talking about anime, the cosplayers you saw at the mall, and sneaking through youtube (or even your own music files, really!) just to check what stuff you have...
And then
BOOM.
When they go home, you're left to check your work for final minor edits and printing.
But then you notice...
IT'S GONE.
--
Now it's 12.47AM.
And you're back to negative zero.
On a project you've worked on a whole week.
Your brother has a fever, and you caught it.
You have a photoshoot tomorrow, too.
The three pieces of homework,
Two pieces of week-long projects
will take up the rest of your sleep...
Inevitably, tomorrow...
When you take that Trig test...
Or even that simple English test that was so easy--so you assume it...
Wow.
Expect your scores to be low, tomorrow, Mmi.
Good luck.
At this moment...
Your mind is hating you for making it hurt so badly through the week
Only to stress it further during the final stretch.
Fantastic.
Now all you can write
Is a couple of bad sentences
Broken up in free, fragmented verse
With appalling punctuation
And horrid wording.
You're not a writer.
Somewhere in between,
You just failed.
Hum. Well I'll be going to school tomorrow. I'll take those quizzes and be there during all the meetings and photoshoots. I don't care if I have a fever. I'll pass this project. I will make things happen.
I am Everyone.
--
I will post further details regarding the whole week, from the good things, to the bad, to the completely whacked out happenings. Everything is blog-worthy. Check in a week's time. Please
They were surprising.
Even the part where you make your homework and projects, surprising indeed!
...in the worst way.
You make them sparingly through the week, so you can spend the rest of the weekend left to some relaxation--something I badly needed at this point--or for some work to be finished at a leisurely pace.
At a leisurely pace, mind you.
And then.
You hold a party, because you think it's all done.
You go to the mall with your family and niece and nephew to celebrate Grandparents' day...because you think the school work's all over...
You come home and spend a little more time with your niece, talking about anime, the cosplayers you saw at the mall, and sneaking through youtube (or even your own music files, really!) just to check what stuff you have...
And then
BOOM.
When they go home, you're left to check your work for final minor edits and printing.
But then you notice...
IT'S GONE.
--
Now it's 12.47AM.
And you're back to negative zero.
On a project you've worked on a whole week.
Your brother has a fever, and you caught it.
You have a photoshoot tomorrow, too.
The three pieces of homework,
Two pieces of week-long projects
will take up the rest of your sleep...
Inevitably, tomorrow...
When you take that Trig test...
Or even that simple English test that was so easy--so you assume it...
Wow.
Expect your scores to be low, tomorrow, Mmi.
Good luck.
At this moment...
Your mind is hating you for making it hurt so badly through the week
Only to stress it further during the final stretch.
Fantastic.
Now all you can write
Is a couple of bad sentences
Broken up in free, fragmented verse
With appalling punctuation
And horrid wording.
You're not a writer.
Somewhere in between,
You just failed.
Hum. Well I'll be going to school tomorrow. I'll take those quizzes and be there during all the meetings and photoshoots. I don't care if I have a fever. I'll pass this project. I will make things happen.
I am Everyone.
--
I will post further details regarding the whole week, from the good things, to the bad, to the completely whacked out happenings. Everything is blog-worthy. Check in a week's time. Please
10.9.09
7.9.09
Fugly That It Is
I'm getting tired of how web 1.0 Blogger always looks. It's boring, irritating, and everything else. It goes against every modern principle of webdesign. I need to call for help. "MOTHARRRR!!!"
Seriously, though. I'd LOVE to move to Wordpress for all that it is. Only if it wasn't so damned difficult to install it all in to a server. -_- Its "five-minute installation we're famous for!" crap is a big lie.
:/ The Sparks' Wordpress just CRASSSHSHHHHHHHEDHDHDHDHDHDHDHAFDS FASDFS
Like that.
And I'm trying to remake it all.
And WP must really hate me now. Huh. Who could have guessed?
But then, every other feature that Wordpress has makes up for it, I guess. Its functionality, crisp look, and the fact that I can name it with my personal domain (I shouldn't thank WP for that. I should thank .tk... Lol.) ...once it's all installed, you pretty much forget the damned things you hated about it.
Much the opposite to blogger. Hah. It's easy to have, easy to post. And you'll hate it afterwards.
Depends. At least I dislike it. =P
OH SCREW THEM BOTH.
LiveJournal.
Pssssshhhhh. xD
Nah.
Excuse me, while I laugh my stress away.
6.9.09
Holidays are Bad for the Economy
Worse for people with schedules.
Quite honestly, I've already scheduled AND requested for a permit for a photoshoot on Monday. The release of the first issue of our magazine is next week! And we haven't had a photoshoot yet! This is TERRIBLE.
What's worse is that the permit I requested was handed over to the principal by one of my writers. Either he forgot, or I just didn't hear him say that someone should pick up the permit before heading home. In any case, he didn't. No, he didn't. He didn't pick it up after school.
--interruption--
Gabs just SMS'd. Yes, that is breaking news! He's worried about the current news regarding the sinking ship over at Zamboanga. Well yeah, it... is pretty sad that there are 800 mourning families at the moment. More-so that they are our Muslim brothers and sisters who have been in... well, let's say they're not in the best position to hold parties, live normal lives. They are, after all, in the territory of the terrorists. (That is to say, the terrorists come from them--not to generalize the Muslims, or anything. Some of you are great people. :D And some of you just come to Manila to bomb as all half-to-death. SOME of you.)
And it's been pretty hard on them, lately. Mindanao is the one with the best resources. But what's happening is that they're letting their hate for Christianity get in the way of their development. (Just as I've pointed out, SOME of them.) So the some part tries bombing, while the other Muslims are living quietly. The result? They're killing their own kind. -_-;
Round of applause for the people who say they are being oppressed...and who consequently oppress their own kind! HUZZAH!
Really, we can't let go of Mindanao for two reasons:
a.) They don't have enough to run their own country; and
b.) There are Mindanaons living in places like Manila. Vice-versa. Separating Mindanao with the rest of the Phil. would leave these guys helpless, and in need of green-cards. Immediate green cards.
And a whole plethora of legal documents.
I'm going completely non-sequitur here.
Anyway, I am in no danger. To end my political ranting...
--
YES. So...
Tuesday is completion of layouts and articles.
That will be reedited through the duration of the week until Friday.
By Saturday, completion.
Then printing.
And then we get to see 'em on Monday, along with our dreaded report cards. I'm in deep worry for my grades. I heard that a plethora of honor students were put out of the roll automatically, just by the first quartermester, too. Shush.
Alongside sir Isaac. :)) Who was top ONE on our APSA Diagnostic National Standardized Exam... His percentile rank for the COUNTRY is 99+ percent. Whilst I remain at 99%. That's one percent lower than he.
So what happened?
He didn't make the cut.
That's right folks.
Isaac is not in the honor roll.
And for this...
HE FRIGGIN HATES MY FACE. 8D
An accomplishment, that is.
Why? How did it become my fault? BECAUSE...
He failed in Filipino.
BECAUSE:
Of the film we did as a group...
where he was supposed to star as a lead role.
And being the diva that he truly is,
he backed out on the acting and refused to cooperate.
SO.
In the middle of editing...
His sister constantly IM'd me,
about what he can do to contribute.
Of course, from the very start, I was the one
TASKED to edit.
That's why I didn't appear in the film.
So I said that the movie's all wrapped up and ready to go.
And that there was nothing else left for him to do.
Isaac...
Now hates me.
Well, he did before. But more so now.
Every time we have a meeting for the all-new TaskForce2010 (the thing against corruption we're planning) and I come in, he'll go off and say that he wouldn't be able to do anything anyway. And when I need him to help out, he wouldn't do anything!!!
Really, Zhack. Your personal issues towards me and my work methods should not be a reason for you to just back out on this. You made a promise to our principal, the the Ateneo Task Force, to the Sisters, the school, the CEAP... And just because you hate ME doesn't mean you should let it get in the way of your work.
And if you say it's because I keep on throwing my suggestions out...it's because I WANT to give a suggestion--because I HAVE an idea. And I know you have a bunch of them. Then GO. Push me to the side and bury me in your brilliant recommendations! If you want yourself in the spotlight of ideas, then go ahead and give them to me. I'll even type them all down for you in the proposal sheet.
Because I only monopolize a job when I am with people who do not care for it. But I know you do. And I know the whole team does. And I am not trying to overshadow anyone in anything.
You don't need idiots, you say. The truth to that is you don't need them because you have enough stupidity in yourself that the world would lose balance if you have an idiot seated next to you.
-breathe-
Ranting over.
On the lighter side of things, my brother was doing the moonwalk earlier, while his feet were wet.
The boy slipped and fell.
Can I LOL, please? Oh please, may I?
End post.
P.S. Meh. Ranting is RANTING. Which is the buttcrap of the brain. When I say these things, I am an equal idiot to the afformentioned idiot. Yes? Yes.
31.8.09
Please be my Prisoner! Please! Please!
Before anything else:
Lovely, isn’t it?
:D
And now to tell the story.
Last week, while having dinner at Chef’s Quarters, I wanted to go see a movie. We weren’t able to make it. 9_9 To make it up to me, we went to the cinemas last night, after going to church.
Which is weird. You’re going to a mall, and you look like this:
THAT was at the food court. And people were STARING at me. Lol.
And by force of habit, I often acknowledge any person who gifts me.
Must’ve taken a hint that I lost my butterfly brooch. :>
Maybe I’m a nut for dressing too maturely (and acting too immature) but that’s the way it goes. Try living a life with all-girl cousins who are older than you by seven to ten years, and most of your clothes comprised of hand-me-downs. Let’s see YOU not dressing maturely after that. XD
And he’s a pain, but I love my brother anyway.
Sometimes, it’s the fact that we’re the only children around that starts my love for the minority, often treated with injustice, just because it isn’t the decision of the greater party.
For example, last week, when I made my request to watch a movie, I said “let’s go watch UP!” and my brother was all giddy with excitement. And I kept on telling him that we’ll watch UP in 3D the next weekend.
So yesterday, we were thinking to watch it. But everyone else wanted to watch The Time Traveler’s Wife (which was good, sure. But still…) So my brother gets depressed, because he couldn’t see the movie he wanted in 3D. More than that, he’s forced to watch some sap of a love story regarding an impossible genetic anomaly.
Really.
And I’ll throw them off a cliff because:
And I went around the mall following after him, begging for his forgiveness because I didn’t stand up for his opinions and preferences when I could have.
Sorry, pare. I failed. :/
(Well I may suck when it comes to landscapes and such. But I’m pretty good with people’s emotions and…photojourn. XD)
I went through the same childhood. No one in my family is my age. And if anyone WAS my age, it would be some cousin who lives faraway with no common interest, who I barely see—even on holidays. I know only ONE cousin who is my age. Everyone else is older than I am. And inevitably, their children are younger than me.
So when we went out for movies, I could never see the movie I liked. :/ It happens every time. There is injustice in the smallest things, and children’s opinions being neglected, just because they are the minority.
I would have watched UP in 3D with you, kid. But I would have wanted to watch a movie where we don’t have to split up for once. For years, I’ve lived through WANTING to make a decision to watch a movie I liked, for once, and everyone else can go their own way. I get called a killjoy for it.
I’ll try to make it up to you somehow, baby. :/ Really sorry.
Krrr, the guilt is enough to kill me. :/ I wasn’t able to fight for the preferences of the one person who remembered what I wanted for my birthday: to watch UP in 3D and get a pair of those rubber shoes from Tokyo Angels. He still remembers the color, and what it looks like. :/ And for almost every week, up until my birthday, he was telling me, “Ate, let’s tell mom that we should buy you a pair of Tokyo Angels!”
Bro, you’re adorable when you’re not driving me crazy.
And yeah. There was this UP display prepared at the cinemas. IT was adorable. There were children playing in it, and they were going about a few coloring book pages which they pinned up a huge wall behind the display. There were a bajillion balloons connected to the house, and large, painted cut-outs of the characters were there.
At least my younger brother got to enjoy THAT.
ANYWAY, The Time Traveler’s Wife (the movie) was good. I mean, the story was good—it was based on an award-winning novel. But the movie version was a little cut-off. There were no explanations as to how the man had the genetic anomaly. Though I love how the camera angles were. The scene where Henry and his girlfriend got out of bed in the morning—favorite one there. And, hm. Well what I couldn’t forget was what Henry said. He lives his life as if though only to wait for the time that he’ll have to travel again. It’s how everyone lives, I guess. We go to elementary school, only to wait for high school, then college. We live, only to wait to die.
I think what’s important here is to maximize the minimal time given, before you travel to a different time, or dimension, or state of life.
Speaking of Life, Death and otherworldly matters, anyone here seen the movie My Sister’s Keeper yet? It was quite well done. Cameron Diaz was such a wonderful actress. She managed to display emotions and have them come off the screen, enough to make her viewers cry. Although, she was not the only one I celebrated here. The girl who played the role of Anna Fitzgerald was an award-winning kid from Little Miss Sunshine, playing alongside Steve Carrel. She’s all grown up now. :] And I love the movie more so because of her.
The only thing I had to complain was how the movie deviated from Jodi Picoult’s novel.
SPOILER.
Highlight to view.
In the movie, Katie dies from Leukemia, just as how she wanted it. Anna won the case, got to keep her body, the way her sister told her. But in the novel—which was so BRUTALLY spoiled by my cousin ;A;—Katie got to live. Anna won the case, but she died with her lawyer, Alexander, in a car accident. And her kidney was donated to Katie, and she lived. It was a great twist of fate, I say. Imaginary fate, for that matter. Also, it wasn’t their brother who said “Katie wants to die!” in the novel (as it did in the movie)… It was Anna who said it.
/Spoiler ^^;
And that’d be it, basically.
30.8.09
My To-Do List
1. SPARKS Magazine, first issue
to be released on Sept. 11
Printing on Sept. 10
-Layouting to be finished by tuesday, Sept. 1
Completion and editing of articles this week
2. Photoshoots
a. Magazine
-Front Cover
- The Sparks of Joy
-Inside back cover with Sr. Celia and Kids
- School promotion
b. Poster
-school promotion
3. Designs
-Layouts
>Kamalayan
>Love
>Joy
>Voice
>Within
>Fun
>Editorial
-Websites
a. school
b. sparks
4. Planning
-Write proposal for BIDAFORCE
due this week
5. Homework
Trigonometry
Calculus
English
Christian Living
Filipino
6. Competition
-Song writing (song due NOW, lol)
-Recording TOMORROW with the band
-submission on monday
Good luck, self. More so, God bless. If you don’t die of fatigue this week, congratulations.
Cards and Tards in Mental Wards
that a greeting is much a gift as something you write or give me.
I like getting cards
And I like getting anything written.
Cards are my favorite part of birthdays.
Kinda disappointed, this year. I was looking forward to reading another one of my mother’s annual cards. They’re always very well written, as expected from a writer. And they’re always very insightful, as expected from a mother—my mother.
Well they did buy me a laptop. Though I was hoping to read a card when I get up from bed. :/
Did you know that I didn’t receive ANY kind of card this year?
It was kind of a school thing to have a card passed around the class for everyone to sign on and write their message. My birthday was on the day of an exam. But even on the day after, or the day before, it’s been a few days now. I have no card.
That’s why I went ecstatic when I read Shakti’s message. ^_^ Always a fun thing.
Though Xela and Nona were in charge of making cards, they…didn’t. ;A;
Well Xel is celebrating it, THAT she is.Lol.
This is actually from the chorale elocution competition. From our speech choir. RIGHT after we performed, we all headed to the ice cream place. We haven’t eaten anything cold in WEEKS. And now it’s time for pay back.
The cover for the ice cream cone… yeah, that’s the thing on Xela’s head. Lol.
Oh right! SIGABO! That’s a frikload of fun
From the far left is my teacher in Filipino class, who is also the animator for the school’s Theatre troupe, and our trainer and choreographer.
To the right, the boy with glasses, is my hubby! 8D Yay hubbs. Lol. He’s one of my writers. He is “as reliable as a husband”. REALLY punctual when it comes to submissions. And always follows up on work. He’s always with ‘Wifey’, who IS a boy, another of my writers, and who “nags and complains like a housewife”.
I have no picture of Wifey. :/
Anyhow, the day after that, we had a dinner party with the family.
Finally got ourselves to try that restaurant called Chef’s Quarters at the Atrium. Lol. Dad didn’t like it, because it wasn’t FILIPINO. I’ll agree with him, though. I think Filipino cuisine is the awesome-est.
And anything else gets everyone bored.
L
O
L.
Which, dear friends, results to THIS piece of mayhem:
Ate Irsh and Kuya Manny, turning into zombies.
And, ohnoezmigash, not Ate Aleth as well!
Don’t eat Ate Hershey’s shoulderrrrr. D: I know it’s fugly, but it doesn't deserve to be eaten. You’ll only get a stomach ache
Or would get you drunk.
‘Cheers.
Let’s drink on the night of a child’s sweet sixteen. ;)
While she has ice cream. :’> I love ice cream. I’m such a child
I don’t intend on growing up, really.
HAAAGEN DAAAAZS
And, yeah. So I’m wearing a little black dress and a white-gold bracelet. Yes, my styles will change, but I’ll always love the same things. Let’s face it. Ice cream is immortal.
You can hold on to your glass.
I’ll just have lobster soup.
btw, the photos that Gabs gave me were perfect for wallpapers.
REALLY liked the one that reminded me of raspberry rapture ice cream from FIC (fruits in icecream)
And the one with the moon on the very side. ;)
I’m such a nut. =P
29.8.09
Messy Desk and Scattered Memories
And please don’t think that I’m copying off Gabs. Oh please, plagiarism isn’t my thing.
I just actually got really disappointed with a writer of mine. He’s just a freshmen, so I wouldn’t blame him.
Now I’m thinking of getting my layout designer as an editor. It depends. Her writing isn’t the best at this moment. And I’m left with a crazy mesh of inexperienced students looking for enlightenment. Hah! As if I have it.
See, the difference is that I learned how to write, because I really wanted to; because I gave effort into it. I attended the training sessions that I was so gracefully given. Not only that, but in my spare time, I read journalism books. And I went online for tutorials on them. I practiced my writing daily, and kept numerous blogs. I enhanced my vocabulary by reading, and I expanded my world of thought to different cultures and people that I could meet, especially online.
And I have a book on journalism. Try to spot it.
Here’s proof that they’re all ORIGINALLY Prentice Hall. :]
They really do help. And I plan on keeping all these books for as long as I can, without having them tattered or torn. See, getting a math course can be frustratingly difficult without good resources. Resource is the first gift of opportunity.
Speaking of opportunity, does anyone know that it’s one of my favorite words? XD It would be the fault of my Intermediate Algebra teacher. We were having an exam that time, when he wrote “Opportunity favors the prepared mind” on the board. I got good grades on those exams, by the way. But after those exams, I remembered a piece in English class that we were obliged to memorize and recite when I was in—what?—sixth grade? It was called ‘Opportunity’ by James Ingalls. I never understood it, in elementary school. I wasn’t even able to recite it in class that time, neither did I put an effort into memorizing it.
My mind wasn’t prepared. And opportunity did not favor it. So I graduated without honors, when I was in elementary.
And now, Opportunity is my favorite poem.
Well by now, you might be wondering about what is up with these photographs. They’re pictures of my desk, at this moment. The first picture was that of a really messy room—one that not even nature, no hurricane, no storm, could create. My books were scattered on the floor, and for some reason, other people’s stuff were on my desk. It was a whole heap of trash on there. And I didn’t use that desk because of it. But I had a writing assignment for English class. We had to write an entry for Youth Writers Asia 2010 (yeah, the one in Singapore). It was really noisy outside, and there’s no place for me to write inside the room. So I had to find my way through it. Tada!
Cleanliness. My books were aligned, notebooks were stacked, art supplies on the side, crayons in cups, a mini-speaker over there, and a lot of white, glorious space for me to have writing space. Finally, I can get to work without making the usual excuses that I make daily.
And I will never forget to introduce to you my Jose Rizal books. :D
These are both English translations of Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo. The Filipino translations are on the shelf, in the home library (yes we have one). We don’t have copies of the original Spanish novels, though. I’m not sure if they sell them here, since, well, nobody really speaks Spanish. Perhaps, only the linguists have them.
Back the the topic of messy desks, and things of anonymous ownership:
Yes, there’s a printer over there. A Hewlet-Packard at that. (Now is that spelled as Hewlet or Hewlette—or Hewlett?) It’s a good printer, still usable, but it has no place anywhere. The Xeleron desktop has an Epson printer on its desk. The other desktop, the one with the LG widescreen and Dual Core, has an HP printer-scanner-copier-fax-in-one with it. So, really. This friend of mine, the HP, is left hidden behind notebooks, underneath a case of paints.
So much color.
17.5.09
My Kpex Needs You
I'm guessing that you, whoever you are, reader, have not read my past four blogs. Lol. Okay fine.
Whatever. I'm feeling really awful at the moment, so I can't write as much.
Hum, ho. My music needs updating. It seriously does.
Recommend a song/artist/album before you leave, aye? Cbox is open for you guys.
Whatever. I'm feeling really awful at the moment, so I can't write as much.
Hum, ho. My music needs updating. It seriously does.
Recommend a song/artist/album before you leave, aye? Cbox is open for you guys.
15.5.09
Mlogging May
2. Web Design:
>>Artistilynx[.com]
---
---Main Layout
---Coding
>>HGInfinity (c/o AL)
---Main Layout
---Content
****Characters
****Wallpapers
****Goodies
---Coding
>>DBS Manila
---
---Forum
---Photo Gallery
---Coding
>>DBS Manila--The Sparks Online Bulletin: SparksVivo.
---Main Layout
---Content
****News, Vlog and Podcast
---Coding
>>One Alliance
---Main Layout
---Forum
---Coding
---Gallery
---Documentation
---Database (big sis is gonna do this for me, thanks!)
>>Thoughtspresso[.com] (Yes, folks, there will be one.)
---Main Layout
****The Monstrous Header Art
---Content
****Tutes
****Artwork
****Mlog Calendar
****Vlog/Podcast
---
--Coding, duh.
3. Journals + Autobiographies:
>>Until the Dripping Stops
---Five Chapters
---Illustrations
>>Teen on Training
---Seven Chapters
---Photographs
4. Novels
>>That yaoi smut novel Erro was asking me to write her. *procrastinates*
5. HGInfinity: The Sands of Eternity
>>Web Manga
>>Omake
>>Editing
>>Art Goods
>>Cover Arts
6. Designs
>>DBS Seniors Deployment Shirt
7. Copy 42 CD's into 2 (Sr. Gigi)
8. The Sparks
>>Write
>>Take Photos
>>Assign a new photographer for next year
>>Design Layout
---Logo
---InDesign Layout
---Cover
>>Make some comics and games
>>Find my staffers and bother them from vacation for no reason
>>Make tutorials on how to write, for the younger members
9. Good For Nothing CSS Projects
>>Blogger Skin
>>Multiply Theme
>>Plurk Layout
10. STUDY FOR COLLEGE ENTRANCE EXAMS; A MUST!!!!!!!!!!! WHY HAVEN'T YOU DONE IT YET?! DO YOU PLAN TO HAVE YOUR WHOLE LIFE LOST WITH NO CAREER WHATSOEVER, YOU IDIOT!!!
11. Useless stuff:
>>Video Games
-Finish American McGee's Alice game
-Level Up on Angels Online
>>Anime
-Watch Rozen Maiden OVA
-Watch the Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya
-ROD the TV
-Darker than Black
>>Manga
-D-Gray Man
-Pandora Hearts
>>Novels
-The Super Naturalist by Eoin Colfer
-Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet
-Luxe by Anne Godbersen
-Rumors: A Luxe Novel by Anne Godbersen (not sure of her name, though, really)
-I'd Tell You I Love You But I'd Have To Kill You (by whoever, low priority, don't care)
-The Time Paradox by Eoin Colfer
-My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picolt
-Painted House by...uhm, CRAP I forgot his name.
-I wanna read a few Austen books...maybe.
-EL FILIBUSTERISMO BY JOSE RIZAL!!! IMPORTANT SCHOOL MATERIAL!
12. Do the school shopping thing for supplies and shoes
13. Most Importantly:
-Hang out with friends for our last summer together, before Ms. S. leaves us all.
-Resolve the problem in our loop--Szyn and Miki aren't getting along
-See VERLY! this summer, I miss her.
-Give Shaina, my beloved Shaina(!), her present
-
BTW, I crossed out all the ones that I've finished.
To be completed on or before June 8.
When Cram and Log Equals Mlog
A cram log, or mlog, is a blog entry or journal entry of any sort that lists or accounts the enormous amount of work one has to finish in a short amount of time. A mlog is basically the blog of a workaholic or a person on the rush.
At some point, that's part of who I am.
On an almost, if not, daily basis, most especially during the school year, one would find me writing on a journal, a blog, a notepad, a sheet of paper, or an organizer what exactly I have to do next. They're not only to-do lists, they're cram logs.
I can't believe, however, that I've spent my summer mlogging away, only to find that the school year is looming in, only to have me mlog some more.
OookayFINE, I didn't really mlog away the summer since I was procrastinating. Give me a break! I was busy the whole school year. Can't I freely rest and watch a couple few animes while I'm not being watched and graded for every move I make?
And that's exactly why I'm mlogging now. I've procrastinated enough to have all my work sink in to the half-end of the summer vacation. Four weeks from now, and I'll face more doom than there are Chinese people.
Ah, procrastination--the perfect snack to accompany your cup of coffee, and your fate of absolute hell.
At some point, that's part of who I am.
On an almost, if not, daily basis, most especially during the school year, one would find me writing on a journal, a blog, a notepad, a sheet of paper, or an organizer what exactly I have to do next. They're not only to-do lists, they're cram logs.
I can't believe, however, that I've spent my summer mlogging away, only to find that the school year is looming in, only to have me mlog some more.
OookayFINE, I didn't really mlog away the summer since I was procrastinating. Give me a break! I was busy the whole school year. Can't I freely rest and watch a couple few animes while I'm not being watched and graded for every move I make?
And that's exactly why I'm mlogging now. I've procrastinated enough to have all my work sink in to the half-end of the summer vacation. Four weeks from now, and I'll face more doom than there are Chinese people.
Ah, procrastination--the perfect snack to accompany your cup of coffee, and your fate of absolute hell.
14.5.09
Questions for the Nauseous
Nothing in the world stood still. Even the world itself rotates on an axis everyday. Of course, you could never notice it all—the movement was always so slow. But to me, at that moment, it seemed as if the whole world was shaking from a massive earthquake; only that everything is blurring up and spinning, not really shaking.
It felt like a sea of an otherworldly motion sickness was making rounds in my stomach, and that some invisible man punched me, right in the middle of it all. The waves were rising now and—“augh!”—all I saw next was a white porcelain bowl filled with yellowish green stomach acids, with bits of mush mixed in with the concoction.
My eyes were tearing from the experience. My mouth tasted bitter and sour at the same time. My salivary glands were going mad, as drool escaped a corner of my lip. I flushed it all down, stood up, and washed my face in the sink.
The water was cool, refreshing in its own way, as it ran down my warm face. Raising that same warm face, I checked it in the mirror, seeing only the face of, who I know is, a healthy person: reddish-pink lips and rosy cheeks, a clear, tan, Filipina complexion, dark eyes and long hair. I couldn’t understand how anything could be wrong with me at this point. I had looked worse before, and I had gone through worse illnesses. Then why was I vomiting; why were my joints shaking, why was everything blurring and why—“aughkkkk!”—was I hugging this toilet again for dear life?
Giving up on my questions, I was, moments later, sitting quietly on the sofa, and waiting for everything to stop spinning. I could notice my mother and my sister at the home office in the corner, somewhere next to the underneath of the staircase. She glanced at my direction a few times, but tried to look away, and look back to the work she’s doing for her next job interview. She tried ignoring her feelings of sympathy and pity. “Focus,” she must have been thinking. But that didn’t really erase the frown on her face. Did my situation really look that bad?
Hm, maybe. I had been, after all, vomiting everything for two days. Everything, with no exaggeration: water, food, juice, oatmeal, medication, nibbles of bread or rice, and even stomach acids, when there was nothing else left of me.
“I’ll take you to the ER,” my mom suggested. I almost wanted to say no, but a person can only live without food or drink for three days. And my blurry eyesight was telling me that it was already two in the morning. It was already the third day, and only a few hours more to count my life to, before my energy-starved body would eat through my muscles to suck for a life-force.
“Hmkay,” was all I could manage to say through my trembling lips. It was all the response my dizzy head could think up. It was all the response I needed.
I took the heart-shaped, green pillow lying on my bed and rode in the car. The driver kicked start the engine, and I felt every vibration it made, considering it was a rather silent car, and a fairly new one too.
I sat stiffly through the ride, hoping for no speed bumps. I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and pulled back the nauseous feeling as I hugged the green pillow to its suffocation.
Until the Dripping Stops: An Autobiographical Narrative
Chapter One: Questions for the Nauseous
An Arlihama Thoughtspresso Original Composition
Fave the Original.
It felt like a sea of an otherworldly motion sickness was making rounds in my stomach, and that some invisible man punched me, right in the middle of it all. The waves were rising now and—“augh!”—all I saw next was a white porcelain bowl filled with yellowish green stomach acids, with bits of mush mixed in with the concoction.
My eyes were tearing from the experience. My mouth tasted bitter and sour at the same time. My salivary glands were going mad, as drool escaped a corner of my lip. I flushed it all down, stood up, and washed my face in the sink.
The water was cool, refreshing in its own way, as it ran down my warm face. Raising that same warm face, I checked it in the mirror, seeing only the face of, who I know is, a healthy person: reddish-pink lips and rosy cheeks, a clear, tan, Filipina complexion, dark eyes and long hair. I couldn’t understand how anything could be wrong with me at this point. I had looked worse before, and I had gone through worse illnesses. Then why was I vomiting; why were my joints shaking, why was everything blurring and why—“aughkkkk!”—was I hugging this toilet again for dear life?
Giving up on my questions, I was, moments later, sitting quietly on the sofa, and waiting for everything to stop spinning. I could notice my mother and my sister at the home office in the corner, somewhere next to the underneath of the staircase. She glanced at my direction a few times, but tried to look away, and look back to the work she’s doing for her next job interview. She tried ignoring her feelings of sympathy and pity. “Focus,” she must have been thinking. But that didn’t really erase the frown on her face. Did my situation really look that bad?
Hm, maybe. I had been, after all, vomiting everything for two days. Everything, with no exaggeration: water, food, juice, oatmeal, medication, nibbles of bread or rice, and even stomach acids, when there was nothing else left of me.
“I’ll take you to the ER,” my mom suggested. I almost wanted to say no, but a person can only live without food or drink for three days. And my blurry eyesight was telling me that it was already two in the morning. It was already the third day, and only a few hours more to count my life to, before my energy-starved body would eat through my muscles to suck for a life-force.
“Hmkay,” was all I could manage to say through my trembling lips. It was all the response my dizzy head could think up. It was all the response I needed.
I took the heart-shaped, green pillow lying on my bed and rode in the car. The driver kicked start the engine, and I felt every vibration it made, considering it was a rather silent car, and a fairly new one too.
I sat stiffly through the ride, hoping for no speed bumps. I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and pulled back the nauseous feeling as I hugged the green pillow to its suffocation.
Until the Dripping Stops: An Autobiographical Narrative
Chapter One: Questions for the Nauseous
An Arlihama Thoughtspresso Original Composition
Fave the Original.
10.5.09
SAI
SAI, Nona's second brother (though she never had one in the first place), is a relatively good piece of software. It's simple, and user-friendly for pen tablet users. It takes control over pen pressure well, even with the most mediocre of tablet hardware.
The arrangement of tools, tabs and windows are efficient for use. Even the color sliders are unique. Truly, SAI is a good start-up for amateur CG artists who have just started using pen tablets.
In fact, SAI is even good for mouse artists. The blending techniques of the software are unique to it.
Everyone should use SAI!
--even though it's fudging up around right now.
For some reason, the canvas for the art piece I'm making right now wouldn't save, export or anything.
My SAI has been cracked properly, thanks to ScarletPianoWires from deviantART. But for some reason, I couldn't do anything.
Too bad. NoNa has finally uploaded great art using SAI, and I'm left behind.
Similarly, for some reason, my PhotoshopCS4 refuses control from the pen pressure. I can't do anything right now. I can only use Adobe Illustrator. And it isn't that IllustratorCS4 is bad, or anything. It's a great program that gives a cleaner look and feel to the art.
But it's a rather finished look, and can't produce that rough, hand-drawn feeling to the art. It's perfect for cartoon illustration, shirt prints and web design--three of the things I need to accomplish this summer.
But the basics like coloring in a character will take forever to do. (However, when it's done, it looks like a perfectly clean cell-shading technique, like it was a clear screen shot from an anime.)
But cellshading always looked rather flat to me--awesome, clean, consistent, professional, anime-like, but flat.
So now I'm doomed, stuck and a number of other participles.
Great.
The arrangement of tools, tabs and windows are efficient for use. Even the color sliders are unique. Truly, SAI is a good start-up for amateur CG artists who have just started using pen tablets.
In fact, SAI is even good for mouse artists. The blending techniques of the software are unique to it.
Everyone should use SAI!
--even though it's fudging up around right now.
For some reason, the canvas for the art piece I'm making right now wouldn't save, export or anything.
My SAI has been cracked properly, thanks to ScarletPianoWires from deviantART. But for some reason, I couldn't do anything.
Too bad. NoNa has finally uploaded great art using SAI, and I'm left behind.
Similarly, for some reason, my PhotoshopCS4 refuses control from the pen pressure. I can't do anything right now. I can only use Adobe Illustrator. And it isn't that IllustratorCS4 is bad, or anything. It's a great program that gives a cleaner look and feel to the art.
But it's a rather finished look, and can't produce that rough, hand-drawn feeling to the art. It's perfect for cartoon illustration, shirt prints and web design--three of the things I need to accomplish this summer.
But the basics like coloring in a character will take forever to do. (However, when it's done, it looks like a perfectly clean cell-shading technique, like it was a clear screen shot from an anime.)
But cellshading always looked rather flat to me--awesome, clean, consistent, professional, anime-like, but flat.
So now I'm doomed, stuck and a number of other participles.
Great.
5.5.09
The Things that Make my Life Right Now
1. Vomit--Lots of it;
2. Cranberry Juice;
3. Cranberry-Grape Juice;
4. More vomit;
5. American McGee's Alice;
6. FullMetal Alchemist Brotherhood;
7. Oatmeal;
8. My Family;
9. The People on dA Who Care, Even Though We Don't Know Each Other;
10. Plurkers and the Huggapalooza;
11. My Pen Tablet;
12. NoNa's Swarm of Mutant Bunnies (No Wonder You Kill Them);
13. My Cellphone--Hooray for Sun(!);
14. Pandora Hearts;
15. Vomit.
No, not really. But that's what there was yesterday.
2. Cranberry Juice;
3. Cranberry-Grape Juice;
4. More vomit;
5. American McGee's Alice;
6. FullMetal Alchemist Brotherhood;
7. Oatmeal;
8. My Family;
9. The People on dA Who Care, Even Though We Don't Know Each Other;
10. Plurkers and the Huggapalooza;
11. My Pen Tablet;
12. NoNa's Swarm of Mutant Bunnies (No Wonder You Kill Them);
13. My Cellphone--Hooray for Sun(!);
14. Pandora Hearts;
15. Vomit.
No, not really. But that's what there was yesterday.
1.5.09
Huzzah, Huzzah!
Bazaar! Bazaar! (Inside joke. Nevermind me.)
Exactly.
That would be it.
Pain, pain go away. >_> I hope to be a guy someday. So monthly, this pain won't stay. Can't dismenorrhea just flippin' stay away?
LALALALALALA.
Done.
Exactly.
That would be it.
Pain, pain go away. >_> I hope to be a guy someday. So monthly, this pain won't stay. Can't dismenorrhea just flippin' stay away?
LALALALALALA.
Done.
23.4.09
Cebu Blog Coming Soon
I'll have to blog about Cebu sooner or later. It was a great place and we took plenty of pictures. But my brother is waiting for the laptop. so...yeah.
For an update, my sister got sick. Maybe it was chickenpox. But hey, I haven't been infected yet. o_O"
Earth Day was wasted on watching TV in front of the air conditioner, while having all the laptops opened.
Insane.
Anything else to update?
FMA brotherhood was cool. I heard Mustang on Episode 2 say something about a pharmacy in Xing, which makes me happy. That just means the Chinese alchemists are coming in soon. And (spoiler) Wrath will rightfully be Fuhrer king Bradley, and Pride will be a child...and Izumi-sensei's son is non-existent! And you can't create humonculi with human transmutation anymore!
YAY!
PANDORA HEARTS!
It. Was. Phenomenal.
The animation stayed faithful to the original illustration by Jun M. I'm quite happy with that. And the music was fantastic, as expected from Tsubasa Chronicle's music director. There are plenty of famous cast members too, like Junko Minagawa and Jun Fukuyama. Over-all, I'm very happy with how PH turned out.
SOUL EATER.
I managed to finish it. It was stupid. But good too. LOL. But I didn't see Noah and Wes in the anime. What a sad, sad conclusion. Okay, it was a happy ending. But sad for the fans.
And Chapter 60 of the manga reveals Crona in sheets. Does this mean she's a girl?!
Skip Beat!
COME BACK SHO!!!!! Really, it's almost Vday in the manga, and Reino was there to stalk Kyoko again. And Ren is there, on his birthday. And Kyoko doesn't have a gift for him.
BUT I DIDN'T SEE SHO ANYWHERE!!!
it could be possible that Sho was the one who called and hung up at the sound of Ren's name.
I'd LOVE to rush the scanlators, but that would be abuse, wouldn't it?
La Corda D'Oro
~Secondo Passo~ is looking well. Honestly, I enjoyed the fact that Etou was there. And Kira. Oh yes, we have Kira! The Lord Kira is administrator of a music school! LOL!
Other than that, the manga is going pretty well. Len finally told Kaho that he'll be studying abroad. And that's as far as the manga went.
T^T
Ouran?
It's still alive?
Well the story isn't finished yet. Even Kaoru told Haruhi that he loves her. And Tamaki said, "well, me too." I'm telling you, I should read the whole thing through again.
Kuroshitsuji
Knowing that Ciel gets killed by his butler in the anime, it's like I don't want to continue reading the manga. I've only started recently, you know. Somewhere around chapter 3. Sebastian amazes me. And I get why Xela loves Ciel. If Ciel is Xela and Nona is Sebastian, I'd say I'm Mr. Tanaka.
movies! LOVE and Other Disasters
Since I'm watching it online, I couldn't finish it. I'm only 3/10's through it. Gah. But it's fun.
"He's Black. He's MEAT!" Enjoy, folks.
Definitely, Maybe
A chick-flick that we wanted to see last year. Saw it on HBO. The kid who played the daughter was the same girl in Little Miss Sunshine, the movie with Paul Dano and Steve Carell.
The story was very interesting. Topsy turvy and all. But you'll never forget where they got the title.
Last but certainly not the least of all updates--in fact, it's the most important:
I HAVE A PEN TABLET NOW!
yay! I hate all my friends. YAAY!!!:D
For an update, my sister got sick. Maybe it was chickenpox. But hey, I haven't been infected yet. o_O"
Earth Day was wasted on watching TV in front of the air conditioner, while having all the laptops opened.
Insane.
Anything else to update?
FMA brotherhood was cool. I heard Mustang on Episode 2 say something about a pharmacy in Xing, which makes me happy. That just means the Chinese alchemists are coming in soon. And (spoiler) Wrath will rightfully be Fuhrer king Bradley, and Pride will be a child...and Izumi-sensei's son is non-existent! And you can't create humonculi with human transmutation anymore!
YAY!
PANDORA HEARTS!
It. Was. Phenomenal.
The animation stayed faithful to the original illustration by Jun M. I'm quite happy with that. And the music was fantastic, as expected from Tsubasa Chronicle's music director. There are plenty of famous cast members too, like Junko Minagawa and Jun Fukuyama. Over-all, I'm very happy with how PH turned out.
SOUL EATER.
I managed to finish it. It was stupid. But good too. LOL. But I didn't see Noah and Wes in the anime. What a sad, sad conclusion. Okay, it was a happy ending. But sad for the fans.
And Chapter 60 of the manga reveals Crona in sheets. Does this mean she's a girl?!
Skip Beat!
COME BACK SHO!!!!! Really, it's almost Vday in the manga, and Reino was there to stalk Kyoko again. And Ren is there, on his birthday. And Kyoko doesn't have a gift for him.
BUT I DIDN'T SEE SHO ANYWHERE!!!
it could be possible that Sho was the one who called and hung up at the sound of Ren's name.
I'd LOVE to rush the scanlators, but that would be abuse, wouldn't it?
La Corda D'Oro
~Secondo Passo~ is looking well. Honestly, I enjoyed the fact that Etou was there. And Kira. Oh yes, we have Kira! The Lord Kira is administrator of a music school! LOL!
Other than that, the manga is going pretty well. Len finally told Kaho that he'll be studying abroad. And that's as far as the manga went.
T^T
Ouran?
It's still alive?
Well the story isn't finished yet. Even Kaoru told Haruhi that he loves her. And Tamaki said, "well, me too." I'm telling you, I should read the whole thing through again.
Kuroshitsuji
Knowing that Ciel gets killed by his butler in the anime, it's like I don't want to continue reading the manga. I've only started recently, you know. Somewhere around chapter 3. Sebastian amazes me. And I get why Xela loves Ciel. If Ciel is Xela and Nona is Sebastian, I'd say I'm Mr. Tanaka.
movies! LOVE and Other Disasters
Since I'm watching it online, I couldn't finish it. I'm only 3/10's through it. Gah. But it's fun.
"He's Black. He's MEAT!" Enjoy, folks.
Definitely, Maybe
A chick-flick that we wanted to see last year. Saw it on HBO. The kid who played the daughter was the same girl in Little Miss Sunshine, the movie with Paul Dano and Steve Carell.
The story was very interesting. Topsy turvy and all. But you'll never forget where they got the title.
Last but certainly not the least of all updates--in fact, it's the most important:
I HAVE A PEN TABLET NOW!
yay! I hate all my friends. YAAY!!!:D
Chains of Fear and Uncertainty
As I've said before, I HAVEN'T BEEN STUDYING A BIT!!!
Oh, the horror.
I just remembered, that last time, someone told me that my teacher next year is fierce, and I should try getting on her good side. With that my mom commented that maybe I'm studying for the grade--and solely for the grade.
Uhm, excuse me, but I clearly recall that I was a kid who used to study for fun. I learned things because I enjoyed finding out how things became. Until you, oh dear almighty adults, started noticing how I ranked.
Studying English used to be fun, because I got to understand stories as a child, and learning words and how to used them helped me to create stories of my own. But when exams came in, I just happily answered away.
And when I come home with my almost-perfect paper, only four mistakes to stain it, and what do you say?
"Can't you have brought home a perfect score?"
And when it was time to see my grades, you'd see Janica on rank 3--again--and tell me that at least she maintains her position.
And NOW you ask whether I study just to make the grade or not?!
Really. People.
I know I should stop complaining and start moving forward. I know that whining gets me no-where. But the problem here is that my feet can't move, frozen on the pavement by the fear of never being able to be enough, never being able to meet the grade, never being who you ask me to be and doing what you want me to do.
I'm doing my best, I'm enjoying my work. But who ever said that I have to be fake and get into someone's good books just to get a grade?
I'll get along with teachers, and I'll be polite, okay fine. But getting beyond that? It's not something I have to do.
Oh, the horror.
I just remembered, that last time, someone told me that my teacher next year is fierce, and I should try getting on her good side. With that my mom commented that maybe I'm studying for the grade--and solely for the grade.
Uhm, excuse me, but I clearly recall that I was a kid who used to study for fun. I learned things because I enjoyed finding out how things became. Until you, oh dear almighty adults, started noticing how I ranked.
Studying English used to be fun, because I got to understand stories as a child, and learning words and how to used them helped me to create stories of my own. But when exams came in, I just happily answered away.
And when I come home with my almost-perfect paper, only four mistakes to stain it, and what do you say?
"Can't you have brought home a perfect score?"
And when it was time to see my grades, you'd see Janica on rank 3--again--and tell me that at least she maintains her position.
And NOW you ask whether I study just to make the grade or not?!
Really. People.
I know I should stop complaining and start moving forward. I know that whining gets me no-where. But the problem here is that my feet can't move, frozen on the pavement by the fear of never being able to be enough, never being able to meet the grade, never being who you ask me to be and doing what you want me to do.
I'm doing my best, I'm enjoying my work. But who ever said that I have to be fake and get into someone's good books just to get a grade?
I'll get along with teachers, and I'll be polite, okay fine. But getting beyond that? It's not something I have to do.
Irrelevant
It's nearing the end of April, and almost enrollment too. All over plurk, friends of mine are hoping that summer would end, and school come back--something completely opposite from what I was hoping for.
Just as Xela said in one of her journals on dA, "why can't there be 35 hours a day?" She said that after she mentioned that she's mostly reviewing half the day. And I was horrified. I haven't been reviewing at all.
The hardest exam is coming in on August, the one for UP. Needless to say, I haven't been doing much of anything yet.
Partly, I've used up April to rest; catching up on it is fundamental. I barely rest during the school year. I took time until the end of the Lenten season to take good long naps and also anime marathons with my sister: a sort of bonding we couldn't have during the school year.
I promised myself that I'll start studying once the Lenten season ends. Easter came, and I was prepared to hit the books...
...when suddenly...
my family asks me to go to Cebu City with them.
Nothing to argue about, Cebu City was a lovely trip. Not to mention, it was a great learning experience. I got to work as part of a secretariat team under my father's direction. And I finally understood what he does for a living.
My mom tells me it was a great OJT (On the Job Training) for my sister and me. I would have agreed, if it were not for the fact that I got paid for it.
It wasn't training--it was a job.
Just as Xela said in one of her journals on dA, "why can't there be 35 hours a day?" She said that after she mentioned that she's mostly reviewing half the day. And I was horrified. I haven't been reviewing at all.
The hardest exam is coming in on August, the one for UP. Needless to say, I haven't been doing much of anything yet.
Partly, I've used up April to rest; catching up on it is fundamental. I barely rest during the school year. I took time until the end of the Lenten season to take good long naps and also anime marathons with my sister: a sort of bonding we couldn't have during the school year.
I promised myself that I'll start studying once the Lenten season ends. Easter came, and I was prepared to hit the books...
...when suddenly...
my family asks me to go to Cebu City with them.
Nothing to argue about, Cebu City was a lovely trip. Not to mention, it was a great learning experience. I got to work as part of a secretariat team under my father's direction. And I finally understood what he does for a living.
My mom tells me it was a great OJT (On the Job Training) for my sister and me. I would have agreed, if it were not for the fact that I got paid for it.
It wasn't training--it was a job.
3.4.09
Academics
If you have read the last post, you would have learned that I have a fear of love. Basically, that's why I immerse myself in academics.
Academics, grades, etc. are purely numbers and words. They're measurable. Easy. So absolutely nothing compared to being human.
Being he best human in the world would require a full lifetime. Getting the best grades only requires ten months of a school year.
In any case, I'm talking in broken paragraphs. *dizzy* I've gone through major writing runs during the last week of March. School was already out, and all the students were enjoying summer. I, however, stayed after school hours on the last day of school, came to school on a Saturday after the last day, and came on a Monday too. And the week before that was just the same.
It was for the school publication. The senior staff we had this year was the best, I think. I personally think I could never forget the photos they took, the layouts the slaved over, the covers they prepared, the content they've produced.
Having them leave soon was like a nightmare to me. And for them to bequeath the role of top next year certainly did make me want to run to the sheets and hide. It made me work hard, over the fact that I have to learn whatever it is they're doing, before they leave.
OTHER than that, safe to say my grades were pretty okay. I had to make a grade out of a blank report card, otherwise, colleges wouldn't really take me in. What kind of college would accept a student who has a blank report card?
I was aiming for honors. And that was what I expected. And that was what I got.
Fantastic. Another goal achieved.
Next up would be college entrance.
It looks like I'm taking my books to summer.
I'll be studying for the entrance exams for UP (University of the Philippines), UST (University of Santo Tomas), Ateneo de Manila University, De La Salle University (DLSU), and Mapua (Whatever Mapua means. Hell is that even a word? Oh wait, it was apparently the name of their founder. *facepalm*)
To be honest, UST is my first choice, being cheaper than the rest, a Catholic college, well-known and what else--oh yes, it's one of the only two universities that have the course I want to take. DLSU is my next choice, as it has the course I want to take, however it is the most expensive university among them. I'll only consider this if I get a scholarship. Next is Mapua, simply because it's the engineering capital of all Philippine universities. And if my first plan doesn't work, I'll go ahead into geodetic engineering. Then Ateneo, mainly because it's a good university to get into.
And my last choice would be the largest, highest rated university in all of the Philippines, that its campus became a self proclaimed city: UP City. If you're wondering why I left it for last choice, it would be because it isn't a Catholic school. I wouldn't be able to join the CEAP-NCR CSL if I went into a non-Catholic university. And I woudln't get a theo-class either. Boo. Definite down side. Also, their facilities aren't that good. And if I want to study something that requires a laboratory, I could easily settle for La Salle or Ateneo.
And the crap they throw at me about how insane the profs there are: BOO. I don't care if you say that UP Studes can learn by themselves. What's the point of going to college then.
That is all for now. LOL. Sorry for those *ahem* people who go to UP. But really. I'd rather go to Miriam College >_> ...Eh, well.
Academics, grades, etc. are purely numbers and words. They're measurable. Easy. So absolutely nothing compared to being human.
Being he best human in the world would require a full lifetime. Getting the best grades only requires ten months of a school year.
In any case, I'm talking in broken paragraphs. *dizzy* I've gone through major writing runs during the last week of March. School was already out, and all the students were enjoying summer. I, however, stayed after school hours on the last day of school, came to school on a Saturday after the last day, and came on a Monday too. And the week before that was just the same.
It was for the school publication. The senior staff we had this year was the best, I think. I personally think I could never forget the photos they took, the layouts the slaved over, the covers they prepared, the content they've produced.
Having them leave soon was like a nightmare to me. And for them to bequeath the role of top next year certainly did make me want to run to the sheets and hide. It made me work hard, over the fact that I have to learn whatever it is they're doing, before they leave.
OTHER than that, safe to say my grades were pretty okay. I had to make a grade out of a blank report card, otherwise, colleges wouldn't really take me in. What kind of college would accept a student who has a blank report card?
I was aiming for honors. And that was what I expected. And that was what I got.
Fantastic. Another goal achieved.
Next up would be college entrance.
It looks like I'm taking my books to summer.
I'll be studying for the entrance exams for UP (University of the Philippines), UST (University of Santo Tomas), Ateneo de Manila University, De La Salle University (DLSU), and Mapua (Whatever Mapua means. Hell is that even a word? Oh wait, it was apparently the name of their founder. *facepalm*)
To be honest, UST is my first choice, being cheaper than the rest, a Catholic college, well-known and what else--oh yes, it's one of the only two universities that have the course I want to take. DLSU is my next choice, as it has the course I want to take, however it is the most expensive university among them. I'll only consider this if I get a scholarship. Next is Mapua, simply because it's the engineering capital of all Philippine universities. And if my first plan doesn't work, I'll go ahead into geodetic engineering. Then Ateneo, mainly because it's a good university to get into.
And my last choice would be the largest, highest rated university in all of the Philippines, that its campus became a self proclaimed city: UP City. If you're wondering why I left it for last choice, it would be because it isn't a Catholic school. I wouldn't be able to join the CEAP-NCR CSL if I went into a non-Catholic university. And I woudln't get a theo-class either. Boo. Definite down side. Also, their facilities aren't that good. And if I want to study something that requires a laboratory, I could easily settle for La Salle or Ateneo.
And the crap they throw at me about how insane the profs there are: BOO. I don't care if you say that UP Studes can learn by themselves. What's the point of going to college then.
That is all for now. LOL. Sorry for those *ahem* people who go to UP. But really. I'd rather go to Miriam College >_> ...Eh, well.
Long Lists
Before the long list of finishing Gabs' tag, lemme just tell you people:
I hazza plurk.
Thassall.
#10 - If I was ever asked what I feared, then simply, it is to love and to be loved that I fear the most. At first, I thought it was because I never want to lose my parents, that maybe, I'm still feeling like a child who doesn't ever want to let go of possibly the only people to understand. But then I saw I was afraid to be loved, even by them, simply because the thought of love itself is completely binding. Love knows no half measures, and to love or to be loved means to give someone your all. Love is like a chain of possession, and that, I think, is what I feared. Love is so awfully illiberal, that I just can't help but fear it.
Simply put, it was: "what the h*ll do you need from me?!" It's frustrating.
#11 - Oh don't worry though, I still love my friends and family. But I get a little too conscious when I get too close to friends. It scares me half awake.
#12 - I will often tell you that I am busy, and that I cannot talk to you at the moment. However true that may be, I always manage to slack off, and talk to someone else, or to do something else than work, which is equally time consuming.
#13 - I do not like being hugged in my sleep.
#14 - I am certifiably mean, and certifiably fake, when I think, "you're boring", yet I always tend to try to nod and find something we would both enjoy talking about. Maybe because I don't want to be mean; that I want to make a friend out of someone I don't find so stimulating a conversation. I have no clue, but I'd have to say you're all boring, period.
#15 - #14 will not stop me from talking to you, no matter how boring our conversations can get. Just because we haven't found anything good to talk about doesn't mean I can't be your friend. It isn't necessarily true that to make a friend, one must have something in common with them. We have two things in common, we are human and we speak at least one common language. That is enough for us to understand each other. We'll find something common if we do. If we don't, that doesn't stop us from making a friend out of each other.
#16 - I am fake. Be allergic to me. Har Har Har.
Nah, just couldn't think of a hilarious ending.
Okay, #16 FOR REAL this time - It is inevitable that one sibling's naming sense would be copied by the next in our family. I had the name "arlihama" for so long, that my younger brother started using "arjuhama". And then my sister currently changed her plurk to "cereal_killer". And just to show that I am her sister, I changed mine to "milk_killer". (It's also basically true that in this family, I consume the most milk.) Perhaps it is the sense of familial love that binds us to this name game.
FOR REAL, I can't think of anything to end this with.
I hazza plurk.
Thassall.
#10 - If I was ever asked what I feared, then simply, it is to love and to be loved that I fear the most. At first, I thought it was because I never want to lose my parents, that maybe, I'm still feeling like a child who doesn't ever want to let go of possibly the only people to understand. But then I saw I was afraid to be loved, even by them, simply because the thought of love itself is completely binding. Love knows no half measures, and to love or to be loved means to give someone your all. Love is like a chain of possession, and that, I think, is what I feared. Love is so awfully illiberal, that I just can't help but fear it.
Simply put, it was: "what the h*ll do you need from me?!" It's frustrating.
#11 - Oh don't worry though, I still love my friends and family. But I get a little too conscious when I get too close to friends. It scares me half awake.
#12 - I will often tell you that I am busy, and that I cannot talk to you at the moment. However true that may be, I always manage to slack off, and talk to someone else, or to do something else than work, which is equally time consuming.
#13 - I do not like being hugged in my sleep.
#14 - I am certifiably mean, and certifiably fake, when I think, "you're boring", yet I always tend to try to nod and find something we would both enjoy talking about. Maybe because I don't want to be mean; that I want to make a friend out of someone I don't find so stimulating a conversation. I have no clue, but I'd have to say you're all boring, period.
#15 - #14 will not stop me from talking to you, no matter how boring our conversations can get. Just because we haven't found anything good to talk about doesn't mean I can't be your friend. It isn't necessarily true that to make a friend, one must have something in common with them. We have two things in common, we are human and we speak at least one common language. That is enough for us to understand each other. We'll find something common if we do. If we don't, that doesn't stop us from making a friend out of each other.
#16 - I am fake. Be allergic to me. Har Har Har.
Nah, just couldn't think of a hilarious ending.
Okay, #16 FOR REAL this time - It is inevitable that one sibling's naming sense would be copied by the next in our family. I had the name "arlihama" for so long, that my younger brother started using "arjuhama". And then my sister currently changed her plurk to "cereal_killer". And just to show that I am her sister, I changed mine to "milk_killer". (It's also basically true that in this family, I consume the most milk.) Perhaps it is the sense of familial love that binds us to this name game.
FOR REAL, I can't think of anything to end this with.
28.2.09
I Can See The Light!
And no, no. No Lawliet anywhere. Sorry.
However, I could've sworn I almost saw sparkly thingies. 8O
Why? It's algebra. Finals for Advanced Algebra were today. And I studied hard enough to say that I passed through the multiple choice fairly fine, though uncertain, as every student is--except Isaac. But when I got to the final page--actually, when we all got to the final page--all Junior students, not only from my class, but the other class-even Isaac!--were frozen still by the fear of a large blank page haunting them. No answers. Just...questions. Certifiably unanswerable questions.
Well, what was the question?
//WARNING TO EVERYONE WHO HATES MATH AND WILL CERTAINLY HAVE A HEADACHE BECAUSE OF THIS//
There is a package of 24 shapes, consisting of squares, pentagons and hexagons. The sum of all sides of the shapes are 112 sides. And there are 10 more square pieces than there are pentagons. What is the number of pieces of each shape in the package?
Now, normally, an idiot would have broken down and cried reading that question. My classmates managed to endure the question. But died when they found their answers were no-where to be found on the multiple choice.
*Note: All multiple choice questions include solution boxes, and are worth two points combined. If you don't have a solution, or you get the solution wrong, you get no points for either. It's an all or nothing system.
We all froze at the sight of the page staring back at us, mocking us, telling us we were stupid freaks who can't understand numbers, of all things.
As if it was telling us that it is the master over us.
No way.
Our frozen stance broke into frustration, and then firing rage (not raging fire, that's different) which translated into loud complaints and demands for exam extensions. (Which we received, by popular demand. People Power!)
But then the teacher came into the classroom, and wrote on the board, as our proctor watched her. And she wrote on the board that there were corrections:
change "10 squares more than pentagons" to "10 hexagons more than squares".
So we did.
Using the Cramer's Rule of determinants, we lined up the three equations like so:
x + y + z = 24
4x +5y +6z = 112
x +0y - z = 10
And we arranged the third order determinant as such that:
A = |1 1 1|
|4 5 6|
|1 0 -1|
Do you want to know what A comes up as?
It comes out as ZERO. (Call Lelouch, everyone!)
So it would pretty much be useless to compute for Ax, Ay and Az! Since the A is equal to 0! 8O
We all panicked. And people came in repeatedly announcing that if we can't find the answer in the choices, we should just write our own.
The problem?
As I just pointed out:
THERE IS NO FRIKKIN ANSWER.
D8 We all went into deep frustration over the fact that it was impossible to answer.
The frustration got worse to the point that I covered the page with scribbles, in my attempt to explain WHY IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO ANSWER. A doodle of a chibi-me saying that I can see the light (translation: I'm dying here!) with matching sparkles and everything. And every scribble of illegible numbers imaginable.
Until...
Isaac, all hail the mighty genius. Viva Isaac.
Yes Isaac.
He walked unto the platform, and said, "disregard her corrections. You'll get the answer. It's easy."
And I don't know with that arrogant, proud, selfish, grrrrrrrr person. But it hit me like an inspiration from out of nowhere.
And the page just got dirtier because I had to cross out every scribble I made on the margins and spaces of the page.
And I wrote my answer.
Although it was supposedly for the use of the Cramer's Rule, it was impossible to use. So I just used substitution and the common sense that every person has to have.
Let's just hope we're right.
For anyone who finds the answer, send me a note.
However, I could've sworn I almost saw sparkly thingies. 8O
Why? It's algebra. Finals for Advanced Algebra were today. And I studied hard enough to say that I passed through the multiple choice fairly fine, though uncertain, as every student is--except Isaac. But when I got to the final page--actually, when we all got to the final page--all Junior students, not only from my class, but the other class-even Isaac!--were frozen still by the fear of a large blank page haunting them. No answers. Just...questions. Certifiably unanswerable questions.
Well, what was the question?
//WARNING TO EVERYONE WHO HATES MATH AND WILL CERTAINLY HAVE A HEADACHE BECAUSE OF THIS//
There is a package of 24 shapes, consisting of squares, pentagons and hexagons. The sum of all sides of the shapes are 112 sides. And there are 10 more square pieces than there are pentagons. What is the number of pieces of each shape in the package?
Now, normally, an idiot would have broken down and cried reading that question. My classmates managed to endure the question. But died when they found their answers were no-where to be found on the multiple choice.
*Note: All multiple choice questions include solution boxes, and are worth two points combined. If you don't have a solution, or you get the solution wrong, you get no points for either. It's an all or nothing system.
We all froze at the sight of the page staring back at us, mocking us, telling us we were stupid freaks who can't understand numbers, of all things.
As if it was telling us that it is the master over us.
No way.
Our frozen stance broke into frustration, and then firing rage (not raging fire, that's different) which translated into loud complaints and demands for exam extensions. (Which we received, by popular demand. People Power!)
But then the teacher came into the classroom, and wrote on the board, as our proctor watched her. And she wrote on the board that there were corrections:
change "10 squares more than pentagons" to "10 hexagons more than squares".
So we did.
Using the Cramer's Rule of determinants, we lined up the three equations like so:
x + y + z = 24
4x +5y +6z = 112
x +0y - z = 10
And we arranged the third order determinant as such that:
A = |1 1 1|
|4 5 6|
|1 0 -1|
Do you want to know what A comes up as?
It comes out as ZERO. (Call Lelouch, everyone!)
So it would pretty much be useless to compute for Ax, Ay and Az! Since the A is equal to 0! 8O
We all panicked. And people came in repeatedly announcing that if we can't find the answer in the choices, we should just write our own.
The problem?
As I just pointed out:
THERE IS NO FRIKKIN ANSWER.
D8 We all went into deep frustration over the fact that it was impossible to answer.
The frustration got worse to the point that I covered the page with scribbles, in my attempt to explain WHY IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO ANSWER. A doodle of a chibi-me saying that I can see the light (translation: I'm dying here!) with matching sparkles and everything. And every scribble of illegible numbers imaginable.
Until...
Isaac, all hail the mighty genius. Viva Isaac.
Yes Isaac.
He walked unto the platform, and said, "disregard her corrections. You'll get the answer. It's easy."
And I don't know with that arrogant, proud, selfish, grrrrrrrr person. But it hit me like an inspiration from out of nowhere.
And the page just got dirtier because I had to cross out every scribble I made on the margins and spaces of the page.
And I wrote my answer.
Although it was supposedly for the use of the Cramer's Rule, it was impossible to use. So I just used substitution and the common sense that every person has to have.
Let's just hope we're right.
For anyone who finds the answer, send me a note.
9.2.09
Where am I going?
Alrighty. I've posted almost the same blog on my dA journal. But there's a twist. I'm going all out and spilling my frustrations here.
So it's called venting.
Big whu-huh-huh.
First off, good morning teacher...*enters room and blah, discusses stuff, asks a question to students...waits for answer... GETS ANGRY*
Filipino Class.
So utterly dramatic it can all get.
We go to the library every Filipino class to watch some of the book Noli Me Tangere in a TV adaptation. The deep Filipino vocabulary and the intense literary value makes it hard for us, the simpletons of this universe, to read the whole novel. (Besides, it was in Spanish before. And translating it to a different language makes everything a lot harder... not to mention the translator was boring. The English translation was actually entertaining.)
She asked us a question regarding one of the chapters. And plenty tried and guessed. Until she got disappointed and frustrated and angry, because no one got it right. So she said, "I've tried doing everything to help you understand the novel. I've even let you watch a movie adaptation! And you still don't read the novel? Just for that, tomorrow, don't come into the library. We'll be discussing the book orally upstairs in your classroom. Also, answer all the corresponding activities in your text book for chapters forty-two to sixty-three. All this will be submitted on Monday."
(And, fact of the matter is, chapter sixty-three is the last chapter.)
So she gave us a consideration. Anyone who comes up to her during the week will be asked to narrate and summarize a randomly chosen chapter of the book. Anyone who manages to do so correctly and completely will be exempted from the monstrous piece of anomaly she calls homework.
And that would be it.
NEXT.
Algebra Class
Setting: classroom, packed with students, the period exactly before lunch
Characters: The teacher and students
Plot:
Teacher comes in to the classroom, not bothering with the noisy students all over the place, not bothering to greet them or shush them half awake. She takes a piece of paper, something printed on it...seems important... Hmmmm, everyone stares.
She posts it on the board.
And announces:
There shall be a quiz bee for Chemistry and Advanced Algebra this Feb. 26. Everyone must join. You are all grouped randomly (read: later on, she said that she had fun that weekend with putting our names in a box and pulling out random names for the groupings) and the groupings are posted here. The quiz bee is graded as a normal quiz. And the group who wins will be given plus points in their exam. This quiz bee will serve as a review for the finals. So take it seriously. Also, the quiz bee will be held down at the main hall.
And me: *headdesk* *facepalm* *OTL* *orz* ~!NOOO.
Seeing the groupings, I was with:
Ian
William
Hannah
Maxine
Mind you, Maxine is the lowest ranked student of the batch. William had summer classes. Ian is...well he failed Chemistry last quarter. Hannah's a good person, and I love her.
And me? Well I'm doomed.
I posted on the board that I'm willing to have a study group with them on Feb. 20, despite the fact that I'm studying for the finals. And I'll be glad to help them get those plus points.
And the reactions?
Ian: Eh, nakakatamad. ("I feel lazy")
Maxine: Bawal! Ayoko. ("Not allowed! And I don't want to.")
Hannah: Hah? Ako? Uhm, okay. (Huh? Me? Uhm, okay.)
William: Sige! Kelan? Punta ko sa inyo? Gawa tayo ng flan! (Sure! When? I'll come to your place? Let's make flan!)
Me: ...
...
...
William, mag-aaral tayo. Hindi gagawa ng flan. (We'll be studying, not making flan.)
Although I deeply thank him for his enthusiasm. Just that I'm stuck with the group I'm most challenged to be with. It's like first year IP all over again.
ANYWAY.
CLE:
All requirements to be passed on the twenty-eighth... oh wait.... the sixteenth. That's next Monday.
Everyone = HAAAHH?!?!
P.E.:
Practical Exam on the last week of feb.
And when are the finals, you ask?
*coughmarchtwountilfourcough*
Where am I going?
I'm going to study.
Blah. Hooray for nonsense questions and answers.
So it's called venting.
Big whu-huh-huh.
First off, good morning teacher...*enters room and blah, discusses stuff, asks a question to students...waits for answer... GETS ANGRY*
Filipino Class.
So utterly dramatic it can all get.
We go to the library every Filipino class to watch some of the book Noli Me Tangere in a TV adaptation. The deep Filipino vocabulary and the intense literary value makes it hard for us, the simpletons of this universe, to read the whole novel. (Besides, it was in Spanish before. And translating it to a different language makes everything a lot harder... not to mention the translator was boring. The English translation was actually entertaining.)
She asked us a question regarding one of the chapters. And plenty tried and guessed. Until she got disappointed and frustrated and angry, because no one got it right. So she said, "I've tried doing everything to help you understand the novel. I've even let you watch a movie adaptation! And you still don't read the novel? Just for that, tomorrow, don't come into the library. We'll be discussing the book orally upstairs in your classroom. Also, answer all the corresponding activities in your text book for chapters forty-two to sixty-three. All this will be submitted on Monday."
(And, fact of the matter is, chapter sixty-three is the last chapter.)
So she gave us a consideration. Anyone who comes up to her during the week will be asked to narrate and summarize a randomly chosen chapter of the book. Anyone who manages to do so correctly and completely will be exempted from the monstrous piece of anomaly she calls homework.
And that would be it.
NEXT.
Algebra Class
Setting: classroom, packed with students, the period exactly before lunch
Characters: The teacher and students
Plot:
Teacher comes in to the classroom, not bothering with the noisy students all over the place, not bothering to greet them or shush them half awake. She takes a piece of paper, something printed on it...seems important... Hmmmm, everyone stares.
She posts it on the board.
And announces:
There shall be a quiz bee for Chemistry and Advanced Algebra this Feb. 26. Everyone must join. You are all grouped randomly (read: later on, she said that she had fun that weekend with putting our names in a box and pulling out random names for the groupings) and the groupings are posted here. The quiz bee is graded as a normal quiz. And the group who wins will be given plus points in their exam. This quiz bee will serve as a review for the finals. So take it seriously. Also, the quiz bee will be held down at the main hall.
And me: *headdesk* *facepalm* *OTL* *orz* ~!NOOO.
Seeing the groupings, I was with:
Ian
William
Hannah
Maxine
Mind you, Maxine is the lowest ranked student of the batch. William had summer classes. Ian is...well he failed Chemistry last quarter. Hannah's a good person, and I love her.
And me? Well I'm doomed.
I posted on the board that I'm willing to have a study group with them on Feb. 20, despite the fact that I'm studying for the finals. And I'll be glad to help them get those plus points.
And the reactions?
Ian: Eh, nakakatamad. ("I feel lazy")
Maxine: Bawal! Ayoko. ("Not allowed! And I don't want to.")
Hannah: Hah? Ako? Uhm, okay. (Huh? Me? Uhm, okay.)
William: Sige! Kelan? Punta ko sa inyo? Gawa tayo ng flan! (Sure! When? I'll come to your place? Let's make flan!)
Me: ...
...
...
William, mag-aaral tayo. Hindi gagawa ng flan. (We'll be studying, not making flan.)
Although I deeply thank him for his enthusiasm. Just that I'm stuck with the group I'm most challenged to be with. It's like first year IP all over again.
ANYWAY.
CLE:
All requirements to be passed on the twenty-eighth... oh wait.... the sixteenth. That's next Monday.
Everyone = HAAAHH?!?!
P.E.:
Practical Exam on the last week of feb.
And when are the finals, you ask?
*coughmarchtwountilfourcough*
Where am I going?
I'm going to study.
Blah. Hooray for nonsense questions and answers.
7.2.09
6.2.09
Because He Said So (Part One)
And so Gabs tags me, hoping it would help lessen my writer's block.
Thanks a bit. But I think I'm feeling a little too nauseous today to write sixteen random facts about myself.
Ah well, nevermind. I'll do it anyway.
#1 - I'm a realist, not a cynic. (Or perhaps another way around. I really can't tell.)
#2 - I think that you're a second rate, trying-hard, copier machine. (Well, basically, everyone is. Almost. Since anything and everything has been tried before, we're only really modifying old concepts. As Gabs had put it earlier, nowadays, there's no such thing as originality.
#3 - #2 reminded me of the competition I entered for making a music video. There is a 20% allotted for originality in the judging criteria. And, well, that'd be pretty hard to fill. A full 20%...how?
4# - The fact is, I have been longing to ask you this question: "What will you when I lose my voice, that I can't tell you I love you, anymore?" (Someone has answered this question. Thanks Xela.)
#5 - I enjoy enumerating things, and writing sentences down seperately, line-by-line. Most possibly because I'm so used to writing in paragraphs for essays and whatnot, that I've been accustomed to creating my drafts in outlines first. Enumeration just seems second nature to me.
#6 - I very well know that this tag is boring you by now.
#7 - For a girl, I'm very bad at doing chores.
#8 - Despite being given various awards in academics, I am known to have fantastically horrible memory. I oftentimes walk into a room and go out, trying to remember why I went there in the first place. Just a while ago, in the middle of writing this post, my sister tells me to go get the iron. So I go upstairs to the maid's room, get the iron and greet two of my cousins--one reading a book, and the other, I have no clue why she's there. I ask them where the iron is and they point to it. I take the iron, step outside the door, and turn off the lights. I take a step forward, and a step backward, when I heard one say, "hala!" (Oh no!) And I turn on the lights, apologizing.
Weird, isn't it?
Yet, just last year, I read a chapter of my biology book, and slept in class. And whenever we had a quiz regarding said chapter, I had a perfect score.
Oh, the random oddities in life.
#9 - #4 was from one time, when we celebrated Holy Mass at school. So I was sitting next to Xela, and the teachers were telling us to sing hymns when we needed to. (We were all too lazy.) So I was there, singing. And mid song, I broke off. And I told Xela that I actually have URI (Upper Respiratory Infection), and possibly laryngitis. And my ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat doctor - otorhynolaryngologist) had told me before not to sing, and that I should avoid unnecessary conversations. From that point on, whenever I sing during Holy Mass, or any time at all, she would hit me on the head, or kick me on the ankles. After the mass, I wrote, "ano nalang ang gagawin mo, kapag nawalan ako ng boses para sabihin sayo na mahal kita?" (What will you do if I lost my voice to tell you that I love you?) That was a joke of course, so she answered, "eh di isulat mo." (Then write it down.) So I wrote, "ganun?" (Is that so?) And she just nodded. Haha.
First half for now. Next time.
Thanks a bit. But I think I'm feeling a little too nauseous today to write sixteen random facts about myself.
Ah well, nevermind. I'll do it anyway.
#1 - I'm a realist, not a cynic. (Or perhaps another way around. I really can't tell.)
#2 - I think that you're a second rate, trying-hard, copier machine. (Well, basically, everyone is. Almost. Since anything and everything has been tried before, we're only really modifying old concepts. As Gabs had put it earlier, nowadays, there's no such thing as originality.
#3 - #2 reminded me of the competition I entered for making a music video. There is a 20% allotted for originality in the judging criteria. And, well, that'd be pretty hard to fill. A full 20%...how?
4# - The fact is, I have been longing to ask you this question: "What will you when I lose my voice, that I can't tell you I love you, anymore?" (Someone has answered this question. Thanks Xela.)
#5 - I enjoy enumerating things, and writing sentences down seperately, line-by-line. Most possibly because I'm so used to writing in paragraphs for essays and whatnot, that I've been accustomed to creating my drafts in outlines first. Enumeration just seems second nature to me.
#6 - I very well know that this tag is boring you by now.
#7 - For a girl, I'm very bad at doing chores.
#8 - Despite being given various awards in academics, I am known to have fantastically horrible memory. I oftentimes walk into a room and go out, trying to remember why I went there in the first place. Just a while ago, in the middle of writing this post, my sister tells me to go get the iron. So I go upstairs to the maid's room, get the iron and greet two of my cousins--one reading a book, and the other, I have no clue why she's there. I ask them where the iron is and they point to it. I take the iron, step outside the door, and turn off the lights. I take a step forward, and a step backward, when I heard one say, "hala!" (Oh no!) And I turn on the lights, apologizing.
Weird, isn't it?
Yet, just last year, I read a chapter of my biology book, and slept in class. And whenever we had a quiz regarding said chapter, I had a perfect score.
Oh, the random oddities in life.
#9 - #4 was from one time, when we celebrated Holy Mass at school. So I was sitting next to Xela, and the teachers were telling us to sing hymns when we needed to. (We were all too lazy.) So I was there, singing. And mid song, I broke off. And I told Xela that I actually have URI (Upper Respiratory Infection), and possibly laryngitis. And my ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat doctor - otorhynolaryngologist) had told me before not to sing, and that I should avoid unnecessary conversations. From that point on, whenever I sing during Holy Mass, or any time at all, she would hit me on the head, or kick me on the ankles. After the mass, I wrote, "ano nalang ang gagawin mo, kapag nawalan ako ng boses para sabihin sayo na mahal kita?" (What will you do if I lost my voice to tell you that I love you?) That was a joke of course, so she answered, "eh di isulat mo." (Then write it down.) So I wrote, "ganun?" (Is that so?) And she just nodded. Haha.
First half for now. Next time.
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