Catch me here.
Got too lazy to send out those private invitations. So come one, come all. Join the party and be merry. I'll see you when you get there.
Chameleon Sofia, rest in peace.
10/13/2006
10/12/2006
I'm Back
This is the question: have I gotten my act together? This is my answer: no. End of story.
Don't feel like playing the part of a travel writer at this point, so I'll just blurt out my impressions about the cities I've visited. First, I don't like New York City. It's too fast-paced and busy, and I could literally feel my head spinning when I explored the city on foot and encountered all the world citizens and cuisines that were crammed into that tiny island. There's too much going on is the thing. My semi-autistic tendencies can't support me living there. Oh, but I did catch a glimpse of Justin Timberlake when I was there. I though that was cool. Second, I don't like Pittsburgh. I flew in on a Sunday, and everything was closed. I was forcibly reminded of Gotham City without Batman, and when I flew out, I knew I wasn't coming back. Third, I like San Francisco. I got a wide view of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz from some not-so-random office building, and it was postcard-perfect. I strolled through Fisherman's Wharf and got close enough to the honking seals in Pier 9 to remember that they smelled really bad. I rode the Cable Car around the city one night. And I even hung out for a bit in the gay district, Castro. There was this guy in a black leather vest whose nipples resembled cow nipples, all long and pink. I did a double-take when I caught sight of them. Then I glanced at the owner's face, and quickly remembered why I really shouldn't stare. And fourth, I am deep-in-lust with Chicago.
After the show, I was mingling with the other Filipinos in the audience. And then I met the mom of an Ateneo basketball varsity player who knows an ADS debater of about three batches ahead. I also met people who know my Tita in London, who used to be a member of the Bayanihan. That was a good night. I'm so glad that I was there instead of some random hotel in Manhattan. Lesson of the story: there's something to be said about ditching what you really don't feel like doing.
* * *
It's going to sound awfully trite to start this post by announcing that I have work to do and that I am blogging so that I can focus enough to work, but that's the truth, and the truth can be trite. Got tired of writing in my journal, which has admittedly been getting more interesting since I closed this channel down. There's something to be said about writing for an audience, methinks, even an imaginary one.
* * *
Nerd that I am, I am actually looking forward to working on my three huge papers for this sem. (What makes this even more nerdy is that today is officially the start of Fall Break. Then again, I am blogging instead of working, so I haven't gone completely mad.) One paper is more important than all the rest, as it ties in with my grandiose dreams of Jessup glory. Of course, that's going to get the most attention. And that paper will kick ass, even if I have to shoot Monster Juice into my system for three weeks straight. But the second most important paper is pretty interesting too, because it's a policy volcano waiting to erupt, and heaven knows how much I like speculating about policy. The least interesting one is hard to describe without being too specific, so I won't even try.* * *
I've been doing a lot of traveling over the past five weeks. Started this 'journey' on Sept. 11 with a flight to New York. Thought that was strangely symbolic. Every week after that, I'd visit at least one state and at most three. One week, for example, I stayed for two nights in Pittsburgh, one night in Manhattan, and then four nights in San Francisco. The good thing about Manhattan was the Toys R Us along Times Square. The good thing about San Francisco was (apart from hanging out with my sister) Fisherman's Wharf at night. And the good thing about Pittsburgh was the black computer bag I got at half-price.
* * *
Don't feel like playing the part of a travel writer at this point, so I'll just blurt out my impressions about the cities I've visited. First, I don't like New York City. It's too fast-paced and busy, and I could literally feel my head spinning when I explored the city on foot and encountered all the world citizens and cuisines that were crammed into that tiny island. There's too much going on is the thing. My semi-autistic tendencies can't support me living there. Oh, but I did catch a glimpse of Justin Timberlake when I was there. I though that was cool. Second, I don't like Pittsburgh. I flew in on a Sunday, and everything was closed. I was forcibly reminded of Gotham City without Batman, and when I flew out, I knew I wasn't coming back. Third, I like San Francisco. I got a wide view of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz from some not-so-random office building, and it was postcard-perfect. I strolled through Fisherman's Wharf and got close enough to the honking seals in Pier 9 to remember that they smelled really bad. I rode the Cable Car around the city one night. And I even hung out for a bit in the gay district, Castro. There was this guy in a black leather vest whose nipples resembled cow nipples, all long and pink. I did a double-take when I caught sight of them. Then I glanced at the owner's face, and quickly remembered why I really shouldn't stare. And fourth, I am deep-in-lust with Chicago.
* * *
My impression of Chicago might be biased. When I was there for the first time (at least since coming over to the Midwest), my friend and I went to the Adler Planetarium and the Art Institute of Chicago. When I was there for the second time, my two friends and I went around the Art Institute and then had lunch in this snazzy restaurant that served really good salmon. And when I was there for the third time, I was booked in the Hotel Intercontinental along North Michigan Ave., one block away from the Magnificent Mile and across the street from Nordstrom. And then there was the food - I treated myself to Pizzeria Uno, and family friends treated me to a laureat somewhere in Chinatown. And most importantly, I got the full-blast of the skyline along Lake Michigan on a black night. Talk about a romantic view. The best part is that it was all for me.* * *
It was snowing this morning. Talk about crazy weather, much? Just peeked outside a few minutes ago, and the snow is all gone. I'm trying not to think too far ahead, because when I do, yellow slush and wet concrete come to mind. I hate winter.* * *
Want to hear something completely random? Two nights ago, I watched the Bayanihan Dance Troupe in the school theater. They were amazing. I especially liked the second half of the show, where they had this dance on a three-level park bench. The girl was being pulled over the place, hopping from bench to bench. That was awe-inspiring. I also liked the Moro fight scene they had, all swords and semi-Arnis moves. Of course, they did the Pandanggo sa Ilaw (i.e. the candle dance, which I never really liked because I find it too girly) and tinikling (which I like only when the beat gets really fast). And there was this dancer who did a solo, and she was so graceful. Her hand moves reminded me of the Thai traditional dance, but she didn't have those long golden extensions. And yet her fingers were flying all over the place. Wow Philippines, indeed.After the show, I was mingling with the other Filipinos in the audience. And then I met the mom of an Ateneo basketball varsity player who knows an ADS debater of about three batches ahead. I also met people who know my Tita in London, who used to be a member of the Bayanihan. That was a good night. I'm so glad that I was there instead of some random hotel in Manhattan. Lesson of the story: there's something to be said about ditching what you really don't feel like doing.
* * *
This is shameless self-promotion, but whatever - it's my birthday in exactly a week. Happy birthday to me. Oh and just so you know, if I do decide to keep blogging, I'm ditching this site and moving to a new one, with my new location to be revealed to a select group of people, by invitation only. It's so funny that over the past week, no less than three of my friends have done that. We'll see how that turns out.
6/18/2006
So Long, Farewell, I Need to Say Good-bye
I've got to pull my act together, so this blog's got to go. I'll return to it at some point I suppose, which is why I'm not deleting it, but I just felt melodramatic enough to announce my departure.
Since I won't be posting here anymore (at least not for a long while), I expect you all to entertain me with frequent updates on your blogs.
Paalam na. Sayonara. Until we meet again.
Since I won't be posting here anymore (at least not for a long while), I expect you all to entertain me with frequent updates on your blogs.
Paalam na. Sayonara. Until we meet again.
6/03/2006
Exhaustion
I am so exhausted right now. I just want to crawl back in bed and sleep the whole day, but I'm resisting the urge to because 1) I've already slept for 10 hours, and I know I'll get sleepier if I sleep any more and 2) my job requires me to help someone in about an hour.
Let no one ever, ever tell me that I am a spoiled brat who can't work for crap. My hands are calloused now from all my manual labor - from pushing the red dolly to lifting and catching big brown boxes to washing my clothes, kuskus-piga style (Okay, the last one wasn't for my job. It was just something that I had to do.). And my mind is spinning from all the journal articles that I've gone through since three weeks ago. Business Week may be an awesome magazine, but if you read something like it for eight hours a day, five days a week, you'll probably start associating it with a novel by a dreamer who thinks he can write but can't. Whoa, that was exceptionally angsty.
Yeah, I apologize. I just feel annoyed right now, because I still have to clock in ten hours of research to fill in my weekly (self-imposed) quota and then there's that thing to write and this apartment to clean up. I miss my household help. I wish I could fly them here for just one day. They'll have this place fixed up in no time, guaranteed. But no. I have to fix my own stuff. And heaven knows how absolutely brilliant I am at doing that.
When I was packing up two nights ago, I was so tired and confused that I kept sitting down to take five minute breaks. My friend, who was providing moral support and nothing else, said, "Camille, stand up and get to work. You don't have time to sit around." I glared at him and said very precisely, "Shut. Up."
But you know, I guess that's what I should do. I should shut up and get to work, because whining here won't accomplish anything. But escapism is my clutch, and I think it's way too late to kick that habit now. After work yesterday, I headed off to the lake because I didn't want to go to my new apartment. I like the location and set-up of the new apartment, but I can't bear to be there right now, because the state of it reminds me of my state. Kalat, kalat, kalat. Anyway, I ended up having a one-hour-and-a-half conversation with Abu, a high school friend, who came here after high school graduation, a few months after Mardi, who I was speaking with last week, did.
We talked about a lot of random and private stuff, so I won't say anything of that here. But I just have to share this - I was like, "Abu, are you coming to Northwestern for med school this fall? Miyan and I are trying to convince Gi to take her internship in Chicago so we'll all be near each other." She said, "Nah, I'm not going to Northwestern. I've decided to go to Yale."
Ooh, barracuda! And that's the story of my kick-ass friend. And since I'm feeling really happy for and proud of her now, I'll end this post and attack my bathroom. I guess it's true that good emotions give you energy.
Let no one ever, ever tell me that I am a spoiled brat who can't work for crap. My hands are calloused now from all my manual labor - from pushing the red dolly to lifting and catching big brown boxes to washing my clothes, kuskus-piga style (Okay, the last one wasn't for my job. It was just something that I had to do.). And my mind is spinning from all the journal articles that I've gone through since three weeks ago. Business Week may be an awesome magazine, but if you read something like it for eight hours a day, five days a week, you'll probably start associating it with a novel by a dreamer who thinks he can write but can't. Whoa, that was exceptionally angsty.
Yeah, I apologize. I just feel annoyed right now, because I still have to clock in ten hours of research to fill in my weekly (self-imposed) quota and then there's that thing to write and this apartment to clean up. I miss my household help. I wish I could fly them here for just one day. They'll have this place fixed up in no time, guaranteed. But no. I have to fix my own stuff. And heaven knows how absolutely brilliant I am at doing that.
When I was packing up two nights ago, I was so tired and confused that I kept sitting down to take five minute breaks. My friend, who was providing moral support and nothing else, said, "Camille, stand up and get to work. You don't have time to sit around." I glared at him and said very precisely, "Shut. Up."
But you know, I guess that's what I should do. I should shut up and get to work, because whining here won't accomplish anything. But escapism is my clutch, and I think it's way too late to kick that habit now. After work yesterday, I headed off to the lake because I didn't want to go to my new apartment. I like the location and set-up of the new apartment, but I can't bear to be there right now, because the state of it reminds me of my state. Kalat, kalat, kalat. Anyway, I ended up having a one-hour-and-a-half conversation with Abu, a high school friend, who came here after high school graduation, a few months after Mardi, who I was speaking with last week, did.
We talked about a lot of random and private stuff, so I won't say anything of that here. But I just have to share this - I was like, "Abu, are you coming to Northwestern for med school this fall? Miyan and I are trying to convince Gi to take her internship in Chicago so we'll all be near each other." She said, "Nah, I'm not going to Northwestern. I've decided to go to Yale."
Ooh, barracuda! And that's the story of my kick-ass friend. And since I'm feeling really happy for and proud of her now, I'll end this post and attack my bathroom. I guess it's true that good emotions give you energy.
5/26/2006
On Limping Ducks and Newness
I perched myself on a large rock near the lake. At first, I put my feet on the rock, so I could rest my elbows on my knees. But my feet kept slipping down - either the rock was slippery or my relatively new sneakers had lost their traction. I tried to keep my feet on the rock a few times, but gravity was persistent. I straightened my legs and crossed them. I stopped fighting the downward force and relented. In quitting and giving up, I found peace.
* * *
I saw a brown duck limping after a colorful one. I didn't understand what I saw. Why didn't the bird just fly? It had obviously hurt its leg, so why didn't it just soar into the air and escape from the pain of each step? Was it because of the boy duck? Stupid bird, if that was so. That peacock wasn't even looking at you, birdbrain. I cocked my head and looked at the duck. Hey bird, I said, if I chopped off your head and legs, you'd be a football, and I'll throw you real high, anywhere you want to go, you just name it. But I can't do that, I said. I am not a murderer, and I think you want to live.
* * *
I was talking to a high school friend while perched on that rock. Back in the days, she was my telephone and letter buddy. We'd spend more than five hours talking to each other on the phone and then we'd pass each other letters when we'd see each other in school. But then she left and moved here, and the e-mails were infrequent and far in-between. Now that I am here, she is just a call away again, just like the old days. But in some ways, it is not just like the old days. We're older now, more responsible, and we don't have the luxury of talking on the phone for hours at end. And even if we did, we'd have better things to do with our time. That world-rocking project needs to be turned in, and the clock that is life is ticking away - year after year after year.
* * *
A few months ago, I wanted a guitar. I have a really good guitar back home, but I don't have one here. But that desire passed away, and I never got one. I'm glad. Where will I find the time to strum and pluck those six strings when I can't even attend to my own headful of hair? But I wish the chapel here had a guitar, with nylon strings instead of steel ones, because the steel ones hurt more. That would make me happy, I think. Crap, I think I want a guitar again.
* * *
My friend told me that when you cut your hair, you cut away the bad luck from your life and invite the good luck in. Two Fridays ago, I had more than six inches cut from my hair. I thought I was being symbolic. New phase, new season, new hair, new life. The stage was set for the newness of everything.
But I find now that things are not new. Objectively, they are, but relatively and really, they aren't. I find that newness is a pretense, a promising concept that is entirely absent from reality. How can a day be brand new? Does sleep make a day brand new? So how about those who don't sleep? Or how about those who nap?
Days are not brand new. They carry over from the days passed. When the sun rises, you don't start from scratch. You write on and continue. That's all that you can do, and that's all there is. Newness is imaginary. It's like a fairy tale - you can believe in it and hope, but you can't make it come true.
I saw a brown duck limping after a colorful one. I didn't understand what I saw. Why didn't the bird just fly? It had obviously hurt its leg, so why didn't it just soar into the air and escape from the pain of each step? Was it because of the boy duck? Stupid bird, if that was so. That peacock wasn't even looking at you, birdbrain. I cocked my head and looked at the duck. Hey bird, I said, if I chopped off your head and legs, you'd be a football, and I'll throw you real high, anywhere you want to go, you just name it. But I can't do that, I said. I am not a murderer, and I think you want to live.
I was talking to a high school friend while perched on that rock. Back in the days, she was my telephone and letter buddy. We'd spend more than five hours talking to each other on the phone and then we'd pass each other letters when we'd see each other in school. But then she left and moved here, and the e-mails were infrequent and far in-between. Now that I am here, she is just a call away again, just like the old days. But in some ways, it is not just like the old days. We're older now, more responsible, and we don't have the luxury of talking on the phone for hours at end. And even if we did, we'd have better things to do with our time. That world-rocking project needs to be turned in, and the clock that is life is ticking away - year after year after year.
A few months ago, I wanted a guitar. I have a really good guitar back home, but I don't have one here. But that desire passed away, and I never got one. I'm glad. Where will I find the time to strum and pluck those six strings when I can't even attend to my own headful of hair? But I wish the chapel here had a guitar, with nylon strings instead of steel ones, because the steel ones hurt more. That would make me happy, I think. Crap, I think I want a guitar again.
My friend told me that when you cut your hair, you cut away the bad luck from your life and invite the good luck in. Two Fridays ago, I had more than six inches cut from my hair. I thought I was being symbolic. New phase, new season, new hair, new life. The stage was set for the newness of everything.
But I find now that things are not new. Objectively, they are, but relatively and really, they aren't. I find that newness is a pretense, a promising concept that is entirely absent from reality. How can a day be brand new? Does sleep make a day brand new? So how about those who don't sleep? Or how about those who nap?
Days are not brand new. They carry over from the days passed. When the sun rises, you don't start from scratch. You write on and continue. That's all that you can do, and that's all there is. Newness is imaginary. It's like a fairy tale - you can believe in it and hope, but you can't make it come true.
5/24/2006
The Vampire Rants
I've got a cut near my thumb. I tore the skin some days ago, when I was pulling a box of shirts from a storage room. A new guy had paid for one, and it was my job to give him his due. The carton slipped from my grasp. The open flap sliced my skin. I thought the cut was superficial. It was a gash the size of a staple wire, and it didn't bleed. When I got home, I put a band-aid on it. The band-aid started peeling off after a few hours, and I didn't replace it. Some days after, the cut is still here, still a cut. I wonder if I should have taken better care of it. I thought the cut would go away if I let it be, if I ignored it. I'm looking at it now, and it's glowing pink, like it doesn't have the energy to be a fiery red anymore, even though that's the color it should be. I thought the cut was superficial, and that it'd disappear in no time. Some days after, it's still here. I was wrong about the cut.
* * *
Who decided that the work day should start when the sun start rises and end around nine hours after that? Who is the moron who did that? Yeah, yeah, in the prehistoric days when humans were still entirely dependent on the sun, a system like that would have made a whole lot of sense. But that is not the case now. There are artificial lights, people, lights that are just about as bright as anything up in the sky. I just don't get it.
But yeah, okay, I do get it. We people are social beings that need some system of coordinating our activities to maximize communal wealth. Why that system though? Yeah, yeah, safety and security and being able to strip bare the nasty shadows that lurk in the dark. But the sun can give you skin cancer, you know. That was just a non-sequitur point that I felt like raising.
I don't like this system, honestly. But I feel obliged to tame my psychosomatic agent to adapt to it, because it's just too hard to swim against the tide and change it. It's taking a hey lot of work though. I am a vampire. If I could, I'd wake up at noon and sleep some hours after midnight. But no. I can't do that.
It's been so hard to lay me down to sleep lately. The teddy bear in my bed doesn't help either. His name is Charlie, and he just grins at me when I start complaining about wanting to sleep already. Not helpful at all. But I tolerate the creature because he's cute (and he reminds me of me, of course) and more importantly, because he's not mine and his owner may not be too pleased if I tell her I flushed him down the toilet.
I have to go now and get ready for work. The work from home thing only works if you've got office equipment at home. Tried it for an hour, but I kept looking for things I didn't have, so I was like, what they hey, I'm out of here. Shower time, and then that's 12 oz. of caffeine into my system. I need something to help me get through this day.
* * *
If the two post segments seem incoherent, that's because I wrote them a day apart and posted them in my new blog because I felt this one was getting too cluttered. But I changed my mind and posted them back here, fixing the clutter with a white template. I'll change my mind at some later date. This blog doesn't expire today.
Who decided that the work day should start when the sun start rises and end around nine hours after that? Who is the moron who did that? Yeah, yeah, in the prehistoric days when humans were still entirely dependent on the sun, a system like that would have made a whole lot of sense. But that is not the case now. There are artificial lights, people, lights that are just about as bright as anything up in the sky. I just don't get it.
But yeah, okay, I do get it. We people are social beings that need some system of coordinating our activities to maximize communal wealth. Why that system though? Yeah, yeah, safety and security and being able to strip bare the nasty shadows that lurk in the dark. But the sun can give you skin cancer, you know. That was just a non-sequitur point that I felt like raising.
I don't like this system, honestly. But I feel obliged to tame my psychosomatic agent to adapt to it, because it's just too hard to swim against the tide and change it. It's taking a hey lot of work though. I am a vampire. If I could, I'd wake up at noon and sleep some hours after midnight. But no. I can't do that.
It's been so hard to lay me down to sleep lately. The teddy bear in my bed doesn't help either. His name is Charlie, and he just grins at me when I start complaining about wanting to sleep already. Not helpful at all. But I tolerate the creature because he's cute (and he reminds me of me, of course) and more importantly, because he's not mine and his owner may not be too pleased if I tell her I flushed him down the toilet.
I have to go now and get ready for work. The work from home thing only works if you've got office equipment at home. Tried it for an hour, but I kept looking for things I didn't have, so I was like, what they hey, I'm out of here. Shower time, and then that's 12 oz. of caffeine into my system. I need something to help me get through this day.
If the two post segments seem incoherent, that's because I wrote them a day apart and posted them in my new blog because I felt this one was getting too cluttered. But I changed my mind and posted them back here, fixing the clutter with a white template. I'll change my mind at some later date. This blog doesn't expire today.
5/23/2006
So Much to Say
So it's back to full-time work. More than full-time work, actually, all things considered. And the details stop there. I'd say more, but I know better than to. Which leaves me with nothing to say. Nice.
5/17/2006
Surreal
I have been wanting to ramble for the longest time, but now that I actually have time to do it, I'm not really in the mood. I'll do it anyway, just because. Game. So one chapter closes, and the next one begins. This summer's bound to be interesting, that much I can say. Between the Buffy job and the Giles job, I've got my hands full but my mind free. I'm determined to do everything I want to do. That includes watching one million films and reading even more books, and also finding the time to learn Photoshop and work out. So good luck to me as I attempt to get all that done. Oh, and I should probably make friends too.
* * *
Last Monday, Fati came over for a visit. It was so surreal to see her here. The last time I saw her was last December, when I went home for Christmas. I was showing her around, and it hit me that I have a really bad sense of direction. Well, okay, this is something that I've known since before. Even if my family and I vacation in Baguio often, I still don't know how to get from place to place there. And back home, when my driver-friends ask me which way they should turn after exiting from the village gate, I have to tell them to wait and let me think, never mind that the cars behind us are all tooting their horns. My girls here know that I'm a useless co-navigator. When the driver loses her way, all I can do is stop my chatter and hope that she finds our way back. But yeah, it did hit me that I probably should brush up on my direction skills. Or develop them, I mean - you can't brush up on something that you don't have.
* * *
I watched "Rudy" last night. Now that was another surreal moment. It was filmed in the Notre Dame campus, and it felt funny seeing the prison, in all its glory, being featured so prominently on the screen. (A/N: I call that towering rectangular building with the Touchdown Jesus mural a prison, because I lost two week of my life in there.)
Anyway, I'm happy for Rudy, that he got what he wanted and that his hard work paid off. But that said, I'm glad I'm not a Rudy.
Last Monday, Fati came over for a visit. It was so surreal to see her here. The last time I saw her was last December, when I went home for Christmas. I was showing her around, and it hit me that I have a really bad sense of direction. Well, okay, this is something that I've known since before. Even if my family and I vacation in Baguio often, I still don't know how to get from place to place there. And back home, when my driver-friends ask me which way they should turn after exiting from the village gate, I have to tell them to wait and let me think, never mind that the cars behind us are all tooting their horns. My girls here know that I'm a useless co-navigator. When the driver loses her way, all I can do is stop my chatter and hope that she finds our way back. But yeah, it did hit me that I probably should brush up on my direction skills. Or develop them, I mean - you can't brush up on something that you don't have.
I watched "Rudy" last night. Now that was another surreal moment. It was filmed in the Notre Dame campus, and it felt funny seeing the prison, in all its glory, being featured so prominently on the screen. (A/N: I call that towering rectangular building with the Touchdown Jesus mural a prison, because I lost two week of my life in there.)
Anyway, I'm happy for Rudy, that he got what he wanted and that his hard work paid off. But that said, I'm glad I'm not a Rudy.
5/08/2006
Quack, Quack
Five more units to go, and the 1L chapter of my life ends. That's an interesting thought. It's the most profound thought I've had for the past how many days. I've been studying for finals, and I think my brain's retaliating for all the trauma I'm inflicting on it by rendering me incapable of either understanding simple statements or functioning properly. Case in point: Subway girl says, "would you like that toasted?," I say "provolone," and then I act all confused when she looks at me like I've turned into a carrot. Another example: this morning in the shower, I got shampoo in my eyes, knocked the shampoo bottle over (naturally, because I couldn't see), and then banged my nose on the soap plate when I was bending over to get the bottle. Man, that hurt my nose big-time. And then I hurt my big toe when I tried to kick that bottle over to the side. Oh my goodness. The ruckus I was making. "Don't let me get me. I'm my own worst enemy." Pink wrote those lines for me.
* * *
Unlike finals time last semester, I can't complain about the snow, because there is no snow. Spring is in the air, and the weather has been nice. Of course, I'm not out all that often, and the only time that I do get to see the sun is when I walk to and from the law school, but everything looks green and shiny from the window of my study place. Speaking of the weather, the most un-Filipino thing I've done here is to go outside with two of my friends and lay on the grass while reading for Contracts. Imagine me doing that in the Ateneo quad? Imagine me soaring through the air with a duck on my back?
* * *
Did any of you know that ducks could fly? I honestly had no idea that ducks could fly! Yeah, yeah, I'm a Mighty Ducks kid, and I know that movie line about "soaring high and flying straight" or "flying high and soaring straight." Ay, whatever. I know about the V formation that they used in the movie, but I never really thought that ducks could fly! How scary. Those big fat birds have been all over the campus lately. And then I saw one flying, and it just really creeped me out! What if it lays a balut on your head?! Or two baluts?! Scary thought. But I'd love to see it happening to someone.
* * *
There are so many animals around here. There are small red birds, small blue birds, small black birds, small brown birds, big black birds, flying ducks, hopping bunnies, wombats, raccoons, ostriches, squirrels, chipmunks, swans, dogs, cats, elephants, and monkeys. Just kidding - about the last two. It's a bit unnerving sometimes to see all these animals around me. It makes me feel like I'm in the Singapore Wildlife Safari place, and people are viewing me from their tram.
* * *
I am boring myself with this entry. Until next time then.
Unlike finals time last semester, I can't complain about the snow, because there is no snow. Spring is in the air, and the weather has been nice. Of course, I'm not out all that often, and the only time that I do get to see the sun is when I walk to and from the law school, but everything looks green and shiny from the window of my study place. Speaking of the weather, the most un-Filipino thing I've done here is to go outside with two of my friends and lay on the grass while reading for Contracts. Imagine me doing that in the Ateneo quad? Imagine me soaring through the air with a duck on my back?
Did any of you know that ducks could fly? I honestly had no idea that ducks could fly! Yeah, yeah, I'm a Mighty Ducks kid, and I know that movie line about "soaring high and flying straight" or "flying high and soaring straight." Ay, whatever. I know about the V formation that they used in the movie, but I never really thought that ducks could fly! How scary. Those big fat birds have been all over the campus lately. And then I saw one flying, and it just really creeped me out! What if it lays a balut on your head?! Or two baluts?! Scary thought. But I'd love to see it happening to someone.
There are so many animals around here. There are small red birds, small blue birds, small black birds, small brown birds, big black birds, flying ducks, hopping bunnies, wombats, raccoons, ostriches, squirrels, chipmunks, swans, dogs, cats, elephants, and monkeys. Just kidding - about the last two. It's a bit unnerving sometimes to see all these animals around me. It makes me feel like I'm in the Singapore Wildlife Safari place, and people are viewing me from their tram.
I am boring myself with this entry. Until next time then.
4/22/2006
Multimedia Sharing
I found myself at home this Saturday night, as my friends went to see a movie, and I wasn't up for it. I ate my dinner while watching Harry Potter 4. I stopped the movie after twenty minutes though, because the way they portrayed Hermione was just oh-so-annoying (I'm sure I'll expound on this at some later post, so watch for it). I was surfing mindlessly when my flatmate knocked on my door because she could hear Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" blaring from my room, and she wanted to tell me that she liked the song. I like the song a whole lot. It's not my kind of music genre-wise, but I like it. Anyway, she had me try this Chinese concoction called 8 Treasures (it's this sweet snack with red beans and seven other things). It was pretty good. We stood around in the kitchen and chatted for a bit. That was fun. We don't talk often, but I genuinely like her because she makes me laugh. After that, I went back to my room and started watching music videos in YouTube. I started off with Bamboo's "Hallelujah," went on to Rivermaya's "Elesi," and ended with the Eraserheads' "Alapaap."
Those were the songs of a few days ago. Right now, my two songs of the moment are Coheed and Cambria's "A Favor House Atlantic" and "Devil in Jersey City." Get the mp3s here. Oh, and do me a favor - listen to the songs and tell me if the lead singer sounds like he looks like this:
Because that's him. I kid you not. See him singing one of their newer songs somewhere in this website. Unbelievable, right? When my friend told me that the lead was a guy, I thought she was telling me that pigs could fly. That was funny. I think my voice is even lower than this guy's! But I like this band. Their music's addictive.
And now to my most important find:
It's a video of the Ateneo campus! (To the Tunay at Totoong Etch-ers: Bahay natin, oh. Haha.) This was the last thing I expected to see on the web. It's a pretty new video too, because it has the new Student Center thing they built in between SEC and SOM. I don't like the "soundtrack." I think that the "Song for Mary" is the type of song that is best sung in Ateneo-La Salle basketball games (I super miss those!) or graduation or things like that. The acoustic version that this guy made doesn't do it for me. But it's not bad, I guess. What a find, yeah? This made me really happy.
And that's it. I just wanted to share.
Those were the songs of a few days ago. Right now, my two songs of the moment are Coheed and Cambria's "A Favor House Atlantic" and "Devil in Jersey City." Get the mp3s here. Oh, and do me a favor - listen to the songs and tell me if the lead singer sounds like he looks like this:
Because that's him. I kid you not. See him singing one of their newer songs somewhere in this website. Unbelievable, right? When my friend told me that the lead was a guy, I thought she was telling me that pigs could fly. That was funny. I think my voice is even lower than this guy's! But I like this band. Their music's addictive.
And now to my most important find:
It's a video of the Ateneo campus! (To the Tunay at Totoong Etch-ers: Bahay natin, oh. Haha.) This was the last thing I expected to see on the web. It's a pretty new video too, because it has the new Student Center thing they built in between SEC and SOM. I don't like the "soundtrack." I think that the "Song for Mary" is the type of song that is best sung in Ateneo-La Salle basketball games (I super miss those!) or graduation or things like that. The acoustic version that this guy made doesn't do it for me. But it's not bad, I guess. What a find, yeah? This made me really happy.
And that's it. I just wanted to share.
Break from the Roller Coaster
Had to step out of the Roller Coaster because my mind is spinning round and round. My head is throbbing so hard that the earth seems to shake with its every pulsing beat. It's not a nice feeling at all, but I know that it'll pass. I'll just take a few deep breaths of air, and then I'll get back on the ride. I chose to get on it, so I'll be staying on it until it stops for good. That much I know. That much I'll do. Okay, the ride is starting again. Yahoo.
4/18/2006
Mahiwagang Elesi
Hindi ako makapag-isip, hindi ako makapagsulat. Nakakainis. Marami akong kailangang gawin (palapit na ang finals namin, shiyet), pero hindi ko naman maumpisahan ang trabaho dahil wala ako sa mood. Susmaryosep. Naisip ko tuloy na magsulat sa Filipino. Oo, kaya ko 'tong gawin, at kaya ko siyang gawin ng maayos. Linggo ng Wika kunwari. At ako raw si Balagtas.
* * *
Hindi, loko lang. Hindi ko kayang magbalagtasan. Baka multohin pa ako rito ni Ginoong Francisco. Maabala ko pa yung kapitbahay kong pari na si John. May kukuwento nalang ako. Noong isang linggo (hindi ko na maalala kung kailan), nakausap ko si Marianne, kaibigan ko noong high school. Nasa Chicago siya ngayon - malapit-lapit na rin dito siguro, hindi tulad ng mga iba kong kaibigan na nandoon ba naman sa kabilang dulo ng mundo, sa California. Nagkuwentuhan kami, nagtawanan. At siyempre, napunta sa boys ang usapan.
Tanong niya sa akin, "So ilan na ba ang mga boys mo dyan?"
Sagot ko: "Ah... wala." At sinabi ko sa kanya na nagpapakamanang ako rito at na si Maria Clara kaya ang kausap niya. Sabi niya sa akin, hay nako, hindi na uso yan ha.
"Manang Maria Clara, live it up! Sige na."
Hmmm, masubukan nga.
* * *
Ubo ako ng ubo noong isang gabi. Exag. Akala siguro ng mga kapitbahay ko na susuka ako ng kalabaw. Hindi lang isa pero tatlo. Ganoon kalala. Pero okay na ako ngayon. Sinisipon pa rin, konti, pero okay na, pagaling na ang bata. Buti naman. Ayoko nang maging Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, at nakalipas na ang pasko.
* * *
Sumisigaw na ang sawa at galit. Gusto kong sumama sa Alapaap. Mahiwagang Elesi, tara na!
Hindi, loko lang. Hindi ko kayang magbalagtasan. Baka multohin pa ako rito ni Ginoong Francisco. Maabala ko pa yung kapitbahay kong pari na si John. May kukuwento nalang ako. Noong isang linggo (hindi ko na maalala kung kailan), nakausap ko si Marianne, kaibigan ko noong high school. Nasa Chicago siya ngayon - malapit-lapit na rin dito siguro, hindi tulad ng mga iba kong kaibigan na nandoon ba naman sa kabilang dulo ng mundo, sa California. Nagkuwentuhan kami, nagtawanan. At siyempre, napunta sa boys ang usapan.
Tanong niya sa akin, "So ilan na ba ang mga boys mo dyan?"
Sagot ko: "Ah... wala." At sinabi ko sa kanya na nagpapakamanang ako rito at na si Maria Clara kaya ang kausap niya. Sabi niya sa akin, hay nako, hindi na uso yan ha.
"Manang Maria Clara, live it up! Sige na."
Hmmm, masubukan nga.
Ubo ako ng ubo noong isang gabi. Exag. Akala siguro ng mga kapitbahay ko na susuka ako ng kalabaw. Hindi lang isa pero tatlo. Ganoon kalala. Pero okay na ako ngayon. Sinisipon pa rin, konti, pero okay na, pagaling na ang bata. Buti naman. Ayoko nang maging Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, at nakalipas na ang pasko.
Sumisigaw na ang sawa at galit. Gusto kong sumama sa Alapaap. Mahiwagang Elesi, tara na!
4/11/2006
Bugging and Ants
I'm in the library right now, in my usual carrel, and I feel so restless than I can scream like a banshee and make everyone here run for their lives out of this haunted house and into Sol's dwelling, where the leaves wave, the squirrels hop, and the grass glistens and winks. I can, but I won't - I'd like to think I'm not entirely uncivilized. Oh, society! What hast thou done to the unbridled soul that was me?
* * *
I've been bugging Cortaid for the past how many minutes now, interrupting her from her work to have her look at the hot-hot-hot model pictures in Cokelover's blog or at the nature pictures in others. She's been patient and accomodating, so I have to give her a whole lot of credit for that. Not everyone can stand the brat that I can be.
And what is it with the "soul that was me" or "the brat that I can be" phrases? So verbose and unnecessary, honestly. Anyway, yesterday during lunchtime, I attended a talk about the importance of the Arts. One of the things talked about was this sociological trend towards expanding the 'self at leisure.' What I understood was that the 'self at leisure' referred to what was left after stripping away the work and other responsibilities of the person. Interesting concept, yeah? I think so. Except that I don't agree with it (assuming, of course, that the concept is as simple as it was explained). The person is not a compartmentalized bureau. It's a totality. And if you try to isolate one part, then you transform the person into something that it is not.
* * *
Earlier today, I was major stressing out about class registration for this coming fall. So many choices to make (that are themselves based on choices that I don't want to make) and so many permutations, only a few of them within my control. This is funny. In Ateneo, I was never this stressed about reg. I'd pick my classes and that was that. Literally - that was that. My college life was peppered with little trips around the world, from as near as Singapore to as far as South Africa, so out of the eight semesters that I was a Katipunan girl, I think I only personally registered for two. (Thanks once again to my awesome proxies.) Sigh. It's different now. Santa Strawberry and Kiwi Snapple and Dasani water.
* * *
My apartment's being invaded by big black ants. I know they're supposed to be lucky, so I've tried not to kill too many of them. But really, I can't help it if they do stupid things and die. Like one time, I was at the sink, washing my dishes, when this ant races to a water-filled bowl and dives in. I watch the ant. It stays on the surface and swims a bit, waving its stringy digits (what do you call ant arms?) rather frantically, occassionally bending into itself. I say to myself, I didn't know ants were like dogs - natural-born swimmers and flashy ones too. And then the ant stops moving, and I realize that I sort of killed it by not fishing it out with a spoon.
* * *
Some years ago, I forget when, I was at the kitchen sink at our house, wasting water and melting soap, all because I was bored. I saw a baby lizard crawl across the sink. Lizards don't scare me like cockroaches do, but I still didn't like it that the baby lizard was so near me. I turned the faucet on, full-blast, and then used my cupped hands to splash the lizard with water. The lizard tried to get away, but I wouldn't stop my splashing. And then it stopped moving and then sort of sidled down the drain. My playmate had gone.
I told my yaya about it, and she was horrified. Lizards are the souls of people who have died but who can't move on, she said. I believed her and prayed that I'd be forgiven for my sin.
I've been bugging Cortaid for the past how many minutes now, interrupting her from her work to have her look at the hot-hot-hot model pictures in Cokelover's blog or at the nature pictures in others. She's been patient and accomodating, so I have to give her a whole lot of credit for that. Not everyone can stand the brat that I can be.
And what is it with the "soul that was me" or "the brat that I can be" phrases? So verbose and unnecessary, honestly. Anyway, yesterday during lunchtime, I attended a talk about the importance of the Arts. One of the things talked about was this sociological trend towards expanding the 'self at leisure.' What I understood was that the 'self at leisure' referred to what was left after stripping away the work and other responsibilities of the person. Interesting concept, yeah? I think so. Except that I don't agree with it (assuming, of course, that the concept is as simple as it was explained). The person is not a compartmentalized bureau. It's a totality. And if you try to isolate one part, then you transform the person into something that it is not.
Earlier today, I was major stressing out about class registration for this coming fall. So many choices to make (that are themselves based on choices that I don't want to make) and so many permutations, only a few of them within my control. This is funny. In Ateneo, I was never this stressed about reg. I'd pick my classes and that was that. Literally - that was that. My college life was peppered with little trips around the world, from as near as Singapore to as far as South Africa, so out of the eight semesters that I was a Katipunan girl, I think I only personally registered for two. (Thanks once again to my awesome proxies.) Sigh. It's different now. Santa Strawberry and Kiwi Snapple and Dasani water.
My apartment's being invaded by big black ants. I know they're supposed to be lucky, so I've tried not to kill too many of them. But really, I can't help it if they do stupid things and die. Like one time, I was at the sink, washing my dishes, when this ant races to a water-filled bowl and dives in. I watch the ant. It stays on the surface and swims a bit, waving its stringy digits (what do you call ant arms?) rather frantically, occassionally bending into itself. I say to myself, I didn't know ants were like dogs - natural-born swimmers and flashy ones too. And then the ant stops moving, and I realize that I sort of killed it by not fishing it out with a spoon.
Some years ago, I forget when, I was at the kitchen sink at our house, wasting water and melting soap, all because I was bored. I saw a baby lizard crawl across the sink. Lizards don't scare me like cockroaches do, but I still didn't like it that the baby lizard was so near me. I turned the faucet on, full-blast, and then used my cupped hands to splash the lizard with water. The lizard tried to get away, but I wouldn't stop my splashing. And then it stopped moving and then sort of sidled down the drain. My playmate had gone.
I told my yaya about it, and she was horrified. Lizards are the souls of people who have died but who can't move on, she said. I believed her and prayed that I'd be forgiven for my sin.
4/09/2006
Saving the World
It's a few minutes after midnight and the "Out Tonight" song of Rent's Mimi is blaring in my head. A few seconds ago, it was blasting on my laptop, but I stopped it midway and switched to a compilation called Sweet Soul (if it's still out in the record stores, I recommend that you guys get it). I have to sleep soon, so I'm getting myself to calm down. Besides, I was out last night, and the night before that, and the night before that. That should be enough to sustain me until Thursday rolls along. And then I can have fun again.
* * *
I didn't go to mass today. In fact, I haven't been to mass for three Sundays now. It's not mere laziness. More accurately, it's not laziness at all. It's me preventing myself from being disrespectful. Before my non-mass Sundays, I'd go to mass and then be too weak to prevent my mind from wandering off to the most inappropriate places. And I didn't like that. I know what the celebration of the Eucharist is - 13 years of Christian Living Education classes at Assumption College and 12 units of Theology at the Ateneo have taught me that much. If I can't treat the mystery of the anamnesis with the reverence it deserves, then I figure that I shouldn't be there.
My future spiritual advisor will have to help me fix this. I don't like it at all.
* * *
I saw "Darwin's Nightmare" last Friday. Wow, wow, wow. I find it amazing how Hubert Sauper used real-life events and scenes to tell the story. That's what a documentary's supposed to do, I know, but Yulie Gerstel didn't do that in her two films, "My Land Zion" and "My Terrorist," which I also saw here. In this film, my skepticism about the guy behind the camera was totally suspended for the duration of the film. When the film ended, it came crawling back, but I think that's just because it was me.
Here are some scenes from the film:
The film made me ask myself a lot of questions about myself, my country, and my life. It made me feel extremely stupid, that's what. I want to save the world, but I don't know how to. And I'd like to think that I know something about life because I'm pursuing a doctorate here, but that film made me realize that I don't know a thing. It's just like the whole debate experience, when I didn't know jack about world events, and when my partner/s would have to fill me in so I could argue. It was perfectly fine then, because I could still build decent and ocassionally kick-ass cases using reason. But this is real life now, and I'm beginning to realize that ignorance isn't funny anymore.
I can't save a world I don't know. The quest for knowledge begins.
* * *
I was planning on writing about some of the issues raised by the film, but Sweet Soul is doing its job, and I'm so sleepy and tired right now. Sigh. I lack the discipline to be a serious writer. In time, I'll crack that cookie. But right now, it's time to sleep. I'm saying good night and going. And if you got the Imogen Heap reference, you're cool.
I didn't go to mass today. In fact, I haven't been to mass for three Sundays now. It's not mere laziness. More accurately, it's not laziness at all. It's me preventing myself from being disrespectful. Before my non-mass Sundays, I'd go to mass and then be too weak to prevent my mind from wandering off to the most inappropriate places. And I didn't like that. I know what the celebration of the Eucharist is - 13 years of Christian Living Education classes at Assumption College and 12 units of Theology at the Ateneo have taught me that much. If I can't treat the mystery of the anamnesis with the reverence it deserves, then I figure that I shouldn't be there.
My future spiritual advisor will have to help me fix this. I don't like it at all.
I saw "Darwin's Nightmare" last Friday. Wow, wow, wow. I find it amazing how Hubert Sauper used real-life events and scenes to tell the story. That's what a documentary's supposed to do, I know, but Yulie Gerstel didn't do that in her two films, "My Land Zion" and "My Terrorist," which I also saw here. In this film, my skepticism about the guy behind the camera was totally suspended for the duration of the film. When the film ended, it came crawling back, but I think that's just because it was me.
Here are some scenes from the film:
The film made me ask myself a lot of questions about myself, my country, and my life. It made me feel extremely stupid, that's what. I want to save the world, but I don't know how to. And I'd like to think that I know something about life because I'm pursuing a doctorate here, but that film made me realize that I don't know a thing. It's just like the whole debate experience, when I didn't know jack about world events, and when my partner/s would have to fill me in so I could argue. It was perfectly fine then, because I could still build decent and ocassionally kick-ass cases using reason. But this is real life now, and I'm beginning to realize that ignorance isn't funny anymore.
I can't save a world I don't know. The quest for knowledge begins.
I was planning on writing about some of the issues raised by the film, but Sweet Soul is doing its job, and I'm so sleepy and tired right now. Sigh. I lack the discipline to be a serious writer. In time, I'll crack that cookie. But right now, it's time to sleep. I'm saying good night and going. And if you got the Imogen Heap reference, you're cool.
4/04/2006
On Salome, Joan and Me
I just got back from the laundry place, and I'm too lazy to put my clothes away. Oh well - the clothes shall wait while I entertain myself here. The clock in my computer says that it's 11 PM, while my watch says that it's 10 PM. Dratted time changes. I don't know why I'm complaining, actually; the time difference between here and home is 13 hours, so a mere hour difference shouldn't matter. And it doesn't matter. I just felt like complaining.
* * *
Last Thursday, I went to see Salome, a play written by Oscar Wilde and directed by Professor Anton Juan. Yes, the Anton Juan. For those of you who don't know, he's this hotshot Filipino director who's now teaching theater here at ND. My description doesn't do him justice at all. My readers should forgive me - it's been a long day, and I'm not in the mood to be particularly descriptive. This excerpt from the Program should say something about the play, though:
Director's Notes: Forbidden Desire
Anton Juan
"Oscar Wilde goes to the edge. He describes Salome, whose kiss is rejected by the saint (John the Baptist), as 'not just a dancing girl but the symbolic animation of undying lust, the goddess of immortal Hysteria, the accursed beauty exalted above all other beauties by the catalepsy that hardens her flesh annd steels her muscles, the Monstrous Beast, indifferent, irresponsible, insensible - poisoning like Helen of ancient myth, everything she touches.' ...
I have employed the use of certain Kyogen principles that would constitute the delight in evil and the hierarchy of power, as in the case of Cesar, Herod, the nobles, and soldiers. I have also anchored Salome's dance to the indigenous Filipino Pangalay dance, based on half-bird, half-women - figures that are monomythical throughout the world, from harpies, to angels, to saviours of human beings, but also to seductive birds of prey."
There you guys go. And here are some pictures that I found on the web:
Credit to This Website
Credit to The South Bend Tribune
Now that I think about it, Professor Anton reminds me of Professor Danton Remoto of the Ateneo de Manila University. I was privileged to have taken Professor Remoto's classes in both short-story writing and poetry when I was in my last year at Ateneo. I learned a lot from those two classes. Oh, and I took Professor Krip Yuson's short-story writing class too. Those were fun times - I felt so vulnerable and unsure of myself in those classes, but signing up for them and giving my all in them were among the best things I've done in life. I wonder if I can take Creative Writing classes here.
Last thing I'll say about the play - Ms. Olga Natividad played the role of Salome. She's a resident actor of Tanghalang Pilipino who taught at the Theater Arts Program of Ateneo. More importantly, she was the voice of Hua Ze Lei's girlfriend in Meteor Garden I and II (the Filipino version). Sing it with me - it's a small word after all...
* * *
Since I'm on a roll, talking about Pinoy Pride and all, this next section is a great, big congratulations to my friend, former Ateneo Debate Society debater Joan de Venecia, who topped the Philippine Bar Exam! This is the most comprehensive article I could find. Yeah, I'm an Inquirer kid. To Joan, if you're reading this - sorry, friend! I know your picture is rather unflattering here. So here's another article with a nicer picture of you. Er, but this contains the Mr. Perfect hirit that got Len laughing so hard that people though she was retarded. So I guess that does it for the links.
I would just like to bask in the limelight and claim that I knew that she was going to top the bar, no doubt about it. In fact, last year, when I thought I'd be taking law back home and was then having a heck of a time deciding between UP and Ateneo, the only two schools I'd applied to, I remember Cokelover (whose dad is a UP lawyer who also topped the bar) sending me a text message saying that UP had topped the bar exam. And then I excitedly texted him back to ask if it was Joan. And he said it wasn't. I felt that was odd, but I let it pass. And then I looked through the exam results in the newspaper, and her name wasn't even in there. I was like, the results can't be right. And the next time I spoke to her, I figured out that she had yet to take the bar exam. That was funny.
Since my first bar-topping prediction came true, I'm going to make two more predictions: for Batch 2008, April Morales, fellow goddess and second-year law student of Ateneo Law, will top the bar. And for Batch 2009, it's going to be Jess Lopez, former Ateneo Debate Society debater who is also in Ateneo Law. And Jess, I'm not saying this just because it was your birthday two days ago.
* * *
Let's talk about me again. This morning, I got out of bed at 10:20 AM for an 11 AM class. I didn't have time to dry my hair, so I didn't bother. I stepped out of my apartment and found that it was raining. I hate the rain. In a previous post, I said I hated snow, but I think I hate rain more than I do snow. Anyway, I had to walk for 15 minutes through the rain just to get to the law building! I'm not talking about a nice, pleasant drizzle. I'm talking about a heavy shower with merciless wind that turned my sister's pink Esprit umbrella inside-out and had me looking (and feeling) like a drowned rat by the time I entered the building. Before entering my classroom and facing more than a hundred of my classmates, I tried running my hand through my hair, but I couldn't move my fingers more than an inch. So I tossed my head, stepped in, and tried to pretend that I was invisible. That was an experience. I probably should get up earlier tomorrow. Ah, if only I could resist sleep.
It's funny that I'm getting the full brunt of the rain experience here at ND, when Manila is a land of rain for half the year. But then again, the Manila I'm from is different from the Manila that most know. I don't have the time to expound on that now so I'll leave that for another day.
* * *
I'm getting sleepy already, so I'm ending this post. Before I do, though, I'd like to explain The Gunner theme. (And this section is dedicated to Jac.) Over here, gunners are people who are addicted to hearing themselves speak up in class, so that they recite more often than is either necessary or tolerable. I can't think of a Filipino translation right now, but I know that you guys know what I mean. So I'm the Gunner because when I blog, I just shoot my fingers off without either thinking or caring about whatever. That's the explanation.
Really sleepy now. Abangan ang susunod na kabanata. (Translation: Wait for the next chapter.)
Last Thursday, I went to see Salome, a play written by Oscar Wilde and directed by Professor Anton Juan. Yes, the Anton Juan. For those of you who don't know, he's this hotshot Filipino director who's now teaching theater here at ND. My description doesn't do him justice at all. My readers should forgive me - it's been a long day, and I'm not in the mood to be particularly descriptive. This excerpt from the Program should say something about the play, though:
Director's Notes: Forbidden Desire
Anton Juan
"Oscar Wilde goes to the edge. He describes Salome, whose kiss is rejected by the saint (John the Baptist), as 'not just a dancing girl but the symbolic animation of undying lust, the goddess of immortal Hysteria, the accursed beauty exalted above all other beauties by the catalepsy that hardens her flesh annd steels her muscles, the Monstrous Beast, indifferent, irresponsible, insensible - poisoning like Helen of ancient myth, everything she touches.' ...
I have employed the use of certain Kyogen principles that would constitute the delight in evil and the hierarchy of power, as in the case of Cesar, Herod, the nobles, and soldiers. I have also anchored Salome's dance to the indigenous Filipino Pangalay dance, based on half-bird, half-women - figures that are monomythical throughout the world, from harpies, to angels, to saviours of human beings, but also to seductive birds of prey."
There you guys go. And here are some pictures that I found on the web:
Now that I think about it, Professor Anton reminds me of Professor Danton Remoto of the Ateneo de Manila University. I was privileged to have taken Professor Remoto's classes in both short-story writing and poetry when I was in my last year at Ateneo. I learned a lot from those two classes. Oh, and I took Professor Krip Yuson's short-story writing class too. Those were fun times - I felt so vulnerable and unsure of myself in those classes, but signing up for them and giving my all in them were among the best things I've done in life. I wonder if I can take Creative Writing classes here.
Last thing I'll say about the play - Ms. Olga Natividad played the role of Salome. She's a resident actor of Tanghalang Pilipino who taught at the Theater Arts Program of Ateneo. More importantly, she was the voice of Hua Ze Lei's girlfriend in Meteor Garden I and II (the Filipino version). Sing it with me - it's a small word after all...
Since I'm on a roll, talking about Pinoy Pride and all, this next section is a great, big congratulations to my friend, former Ateneo Debate Society debater Joan de Venecia, who topped the Philippine Bar Exam! This is the most comprehensive article I could find. Yeah, I'm an Inquirer kid. To Joan, if you're reading this - sorry, friend! I know your picture is rather unflattering here. So here's another article with a nicer picture of you. Er, but this contains the Mr. Perfect hirit that got Len laughing so hard that people though she was retarded. So I guess that does it for the links.
I would just like to bask in the limelight and claim that I knew that she was going to top the bar, no doubt about it. In fact, last year, when I thought I'd be taking law back home and was then having a heck of a time deciding between UP and Ateneo, the only two schools I'd applied to, I remember Cokelover (whose dad is a UP lawyer who also topped the bar) sending me a text message saying that UP had topped the bar exam. And then I excitedly texted him back to ask if it was Joan. And he said it wasn't. I felt that was odd, but I let it pass. And then I looked through the exam results in the newspaper, and her name wasn't even in there. I was like, the results can't be right. And the next time I spoke to her, I figured out that she had yet to take the bar exam. That was funny.
Since my first bar-topping prediction came true, I'm going to make two more predictions: for Batch 2008, April Morales, fellow goddess and second-year law student of Ateneo Law, will top the bar. And for Batch 2009, it's going to be Jess Lopez, former Ateneo Debate Society debater who is also in Ateneo Law. And Jess, I'm not saying this just because it was your birthday two days ago.
Let's talk about me again. This morning, I got out of bed at 10:20 AM for an 11 AM class. I didn't have time to dry my hair, so I didn't bother. I stepped out of my apartment and found that it was raining. I hate the rain. In a previous post, I said I hated snow, but I think I hate rain more than I do snow. Anyway, I had to walk for 15 minutes through the rain just to get to the law building! I'm not talking about a nice, pleasant drizzle. I'm talking about a heavy shower with merciless wind that turned my sister's pink Esprit umbrella inside-out and had me looking (and feeling) like a drowned rat by the time I entered the building. Before entering my classroom and facing more than a hundred of my classmates, I tried running my hand through my hair, but I couldn't move my fingers more than an inch. So I tossed my head, stepped in, and tried to pretend that I was invisible. That was an experience. I probably should get up earlier tomorrow. Ah, if only I could resist sleep.
It's funny that I'm getting the full brunt of the rain experience here at ND, when Manila is a land of rain for half the year. But then again, the Manila I'm from is different from the Manila that most know. I don't have the time to expound on that now so I'll leave that for another day.
I'm getting sleepy already, so I'm ending this post. Before I do, though, I'd like to explain The Gunner theme. (And this section is dedicated to Jac.) Over here, gunners are people who are addicted to hearing themselves speak up in class, so that they recite more often than is either necessary or tolerable. I can't think of a Filipino translation right now, but I know that you guys know what I mean. So I'm the Gunner because when I blog, I just shoot my fingers off without either thinking or caring about whatever. That's the explanation.
Really sleepy now. Abangan ang susunod na kabanata. (Translation: Wait for the next chapter.)
3/28/2006
Debate Tidbits
I am so tired right now. I had my oral argument for my Moot Court class about three hours ago. It went well, and I'm grateful for that. The funny thing (yes, funny now; scary a while ago) was that I'd honestly thought that the oral argument, which is 15% of the grade, was scheduled for tomorrow instead of today. Whew - it's a good thing I'd worked on it over the weekend.
* * *
To my ADS friends who are in law school: guys, you better do Moot Court! I won't be definite about it, but I'm really, really thinking about going for Moot Court next year. Jessup Competition, anyone? Haha, yes, the Gunner dreams. Special mention to John and Jess (Lopez, how are you?!). And also to William.
* * *
Speaking of debate, I was talking to Ray A. how many weeks ago at some party. He said that we should have paired up and gotten ND to fund us for Worlds. I was like, oo nga no, sayang! Yes, we were dreaming (I am oh-so-rusty, friends; I can feel it.), but that would have been fun. I still have two Worlds left. Chances are that I'm not going to use those up though. Too bad Ray's leaving in a few months; we could have made that plan work for this year. Who's hosting Worlds this year, anyway? Oh, when Ray gets back, ask him to do card tricks. No joke, guys. He can do magic, and he can do it well.
* * *
Here's to grand debating dreams.
To my ADS friends who are in law school: guys, you better do Moot Court! I won't be definite about it, but I'm really, really thinking about going for Moot Court next year. Jessup Competition, anyone? Haha, yes, the Gunner dreams. Special mention to John and Jess (Lopez, how are you?!). And also to William.
Speaking of debate, I was talking to Ray A. how many weeks ago at some party. He said that we should have paired up and gotten ND to fund us for Worlds. I was like, oo nga no, sayang! Yes, we were dreaming (I am oh-so-rusty, friends; I can feel it.), but that would have been fun. I still have two Worlds left. Chances are that I'm not going to use those up though. Too bad Ray's leaving in a few months; we could have made that plan work for this year. Who's hosting Worlds this year, anyway? Oh, when Ray gets back, ask him to do card tricks. No joke, guys. He can do magic, and he can do it well.
Here's to grand debating dreams.
3/26/2006
Looking Back
I couldn't sleep, so here I am, typing something up. It's 1:30 AM on a Sunday morning, and I'm awake. Yuckers. I'm not wide awake, mind. I'm just awake enough not be asleep. And that didn't make sense at all, so let's not follow that thought. Man, I don't have anything to say. Let me think. Okay, so this morning, I came across the journal that I had started in anticipation of my life here at ND. I started it about a little more than a month before I left. It was an interesting read. Same old issues but different characters. It's funny how things turn out.
* * *
I keep a journal for two reasons: 1) I find it therapeutic to ramble and 2) I like reading about me. The first reason is pretty self-explanatory, so I'll go on to the second. And, well, that's pretty self-explanatory too, so let's move on. I guess what I want to say is that, when I read about me, I get the impression that my life is a lot more interesting than I think it is. And I can list all the reasons why, but I won't. I'm tired and sleepy, and I'm so not in the mood.
* * *
I miss having a TV. When I got here, I purposely chose not to get one because I was trying to be good. But the badness came through in other ways, so there went that plan. I remember the DVD marathons that I used to have before - days and days of nothing but movies. Fun, fun times. Those were the days.
I miss Meteor Garden and Buffy the Vampire Slayers (BtVS). Those were awesome series, and I was totally absorbed in both of them. Well, except that I didn't like Meteor Garden II as much as I did Meteor Garden I. And also, I didn't go on to watch Seasons 6-7 of BtVS. Season 6 is when Buffy gets all down about being alive; I didn't think I could stand to watch her whine.
I miss them both, though. Ah, remnants of the lazy life I've left behind.
* * *
I sometimes think of how things would be like if I'd gone on climbing the corporate ladder. I ranked pretty well in my course, and the opportunities were there for the taking. I wonder how things would be now if I'd pursued this management program I'd been accepted in. That was a kick-ass program too - good salary, sponsored training abroad, and solid career advancement opportunity. I guess I'd have been the regular Makati girl - Enterprise building during the day and then Greenbelt 3 at night. And then off to England for training, at some point. It's an interesting thought. I write wistfully now, but I know that if I had to choose all over again, I'd still forego that and pursue law.
* * *
Advertising was a good industry to start my 'business career' in. It's not at all as glamorous as it's frequently portrayed, but it's a good learning experience still. You get to juggle one million tasks and one million personalities - what other job gives you that? It's not for me, though. At least accounts is not for me. I was thinking of shifting to copywriting for a while. The Creative Director of the firm where I worked told me to give him a call if ever I wanted to pursue that. I was flattered as hey when he told me that at my despedida. And grateful too, actually. But yeah, that's one call I'm pretty sure I won't be making.
* * *
Going to bed, take two.
I keep a journal for two reasons: 1) I find it therapeutic to ramble and 2) I like reading about me. The first reason is pretty self-explanatory, so I'll go on to the second. And, well, that's pretty self-explanatory too, so let's move on. I guess what I want to say is that, when I read about me, I get the impression that my life is a lot more interesting than I think it is. And I can list all the reasons why, but I won't. I'm tired and sleepy, and I'm so not in the mood.
I miss having a TV. When I got here, I purposely chose not to get one because I was trying to be good. But the badness came through in other ways, so there went that plan. I remember the DVD marathons that I used to have before - days and days of nothing but movies. Fun, fun times. Those were the days.
I miss Meteor Garden and Buffy the Vampire Slayers (BtVS). Those were awesome series, and I was totally absorbed in both of them. Well, except that I didn't like Meteor Garden II as much as I did Meteor Garden I. And also, I didn't go on to watch Seasons 6-7 of BtVS. Season 6 is when Buffy gets all down about being alive; I didn't think I could stand to watch her whine.
I miss them both, though. Ah, remnants of the lazy life I've left behind.
I sometimes think of how things would be like if I'd gone on climbing the corporate ladder. I ranked pretty well in my course, and the opportunities were there for the taking. I wonder how things would be now if I'd pursued this management program I'd been accepted in. That was a kick-ass program too - good salary, sponsored training abroad, and solid career advancement opportunity. I guess I'd have been the regular Makati girl - Enterprise building during the day and then Greenbelt 3 at night. And then off to England for training, at some point. It's an interesting thought. I write wistfully now, but I know that if I had to choose all over again, I'd still forego that and pursue law.
Advertising was a good industry to start my 'business career' in. It's not at all as glamorous as it's frequently portrayed, but it's a good learning experience still. You get to juggle one million tasks and one million personalities - what other job gives you that? It's not for me, though. At least accounts is not for me. I was thinking of shifting to copywriting for a while. The Creative Director of the firm where I worked told me to give him a call if ever I wanted to pursue that. I was flattered as hey when he told me that at my despedida. And grateful too, actually. But yeah, that's one call I'm pretty sure I won't be making.
Going to bed, take two.
3/19/2006
Getting Back to It - Or Pretending To
It's the Sunday before school starts. Yeah, Spring Break's come to a close, and I'm pretty bummed about that. It's time for me to suit up for work again. I've been a horrible student for the past how many hours, really. I had trouble concentrating on the reading for tomorrow, but instead of diligently plodding on and seeking to understand, I blasted lots of upbeat and happy music through my headphones. My objective was accomplished - time passed by, and the readings became bearable. The sad catch was that I don't think I understood much of what I read. I was reading this one case, for example, and I was at the last line when the holding stated something completely different from what I'd understood thus far. When that happened, I stared at the last sentence in disbelief. And then I shrugged and 'read on.' What I don't understand now, I will figure out tomorrow.
* * *
There are tons of stories to tell, actually, so this next section won't be a rant and rave about how boring my life's been so far. It hasn't been boring at all, mind. If anything, it's been almost too exciting to believe. Yes, I exaggerate not. But no details on this public space. I'm a private person, so you'll have to hear the stories from me.
* * *
I was talking to my high school buddy, Abu, last Saturday morning. I'd talked to her about two weeks ago, and I'd said I'd call her back the next day, but something happened the night before and I was too distracted to. Well, that morning, something else happened, and I was too distracted not to call. I was up at the ungodly hour of 830 AM, and I didn't want to wake up any more of the friends that I'd kept up until late (as in really late). Anyway, Abu and I were talking and talking, and it was as though we picked up right from where we left off. If I'm not mistaken, that was during our high school graduation, which was five years ago. The power of friendship. And the beauty of it too.
On that note, I'd like to say that I know I have call "utangs" to Manila friends who are here now. I chalk that debt up to lousy, lousy time management on my part (that useful ogre will just not be tamed). But that said, I know that I will call everyone here eventually. That's a statement of fact. When I do, I hope the time will be right and that fun conversations will flow. Similar sentiments abound for my e-mail backlog. Holy cow, friends, I apologize for the silence. But you guys do know that when I disappear for a while, you can expect novel e-mails that should last you for years. In the meantime, look to this blog to confirm that I am not yet dead.
* * *
The next few months are bound to be exciting. New experiences, important decisions to make, different skills to learn... Yeah, yeah, just practicing my spiel for the Mr. Roger's Neighbourhood audition. That was an awesome show. I liked it a whole lot, and I'd be genuinely offended if you told me anything to the contrary. Well, no, not really. We monkeys have our own bananas, and if you can't see the beauty of mine, then I feel sorry for you because you're blind.
* * *
I want to publish something. The last article I did was on Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I had a lot of fun doing that, and I got paid for it too. I haven't written anything in ages. My goodness. No excuses, no excuses. If I'd publish my journal, I'd be rich and famous. But I won't do that. My secrets aren't for you. They'll be revealed to this world when we're all dead. And the world will mourn my passing.
There are tons of stories to tell, actually, so this next section won't be a rant and rave about how boring my life's been so far. It hasn't been boring at all, mind. If anything, it's been almost too exciting to believe. Yes, I exaggerate not. But no details on this public space. I'm a private person, so you'll have to hear the stories from me.
I was talking to my high school buddy, Abu, last Saturday morning. I'd talked to her about two weeks ago, and I'd said I'd call her back the next day, but something happened the night before and I was too distracted to. Well, that morning, something else happened, and I was too distracted not to call. I was up at the ungodly hour of 830 AM, and I didn't want to wake up any more of the friends that I'd kept up until late (as in really late). Anyway, Abu and I were talking and talking, and it was as though we picked up right from where we left off. If I'm not mistaken, that was during our high school graduation, which was five years ago. The power of friendship. And the beauty of it too.
On that note, I'd like to say that I know I have call "utangs" to Manila friends who are here now. I chalk that debt up to lousy, lousy time management on my part (that useful ogre will just not be tamed). But that said, I know that I will call everyone here eventually. That's a statement of fact. When I do, I hope the time will be right and that fun conversations will flow. Similar sentiments abound for my e-mail backlog. Holy cow, friends, I apologize for the silence. But you guys do know that when I disappear for a while, you can expect novel e-mails that should last you for years. In the meantime, look to this blog to confirm that I am not yet dead.
The next few months are bound to be exciting. New experiences, important decisions to make, different skills to learn... Yeah, yeah, just practicing my spiel for the Mr. Roger's Neighbourhood audition. That was an awesome show. I liked it a whole lot, and I'd be genuinely offended if you told me anything to the contrary. Well, no, not really. We monkeys have our own bananas, and if you can't see the beauty of mine, then I feel sorry for you because you're blind.
I want to publish something. The last article I did was on Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I had a lot of fun doing that, and I got paid for it too. I haven't written anything in ages. My goodness. No excuses, no excuses. If I'd publish my journal, I'd be rich and famous. But I won't do that. My secrets aren't for you. They'll be revealed to this world when we're all dead. And the world will mourn my passing.
3/05/2006
Uncreatively Titled
Dilly-dallying time. I've been staring at the computer screen for how many minutes now, and I'm tired of reading my legal writing. In fact, a while ago, while I was in the middle of editing this paper I've to submit by the end of this week, I laid me down to sleep for a five-minute nap that lasted for three hours. When I woke up from that sleep, I saw the pink of my bedsheet, so I knew I was in my room. For some reason, though, I had it in my head that if I walked out of my room, I would see the rest of my family there instead of a leaf-laden hallway.
* * *
It was snowing when I woke up for the second time today. As the past how many days have been blissfully snow-free, this did not come as a pleasant surprise. I hate snow; I really do. It looks nice and white and pure, but ... well, in the interest of Lent, I won't say what I really think of it. I don't like it at all. I don't, I don't, I don't. Oh well. That's one more thing to complain about.
* * *
For some reason, Natalie Imbruglia gets me right here every Sunday. Her lyrics just speak to me: "Tonight, can I be lost forever/To drown my soul in sensory pleasure" from Beauty on the Fire and "I'm counting down the days tonight/I just want to be a million miles away from here." from Counting Down the Days. (Thanks to Cokelover for the mp3s as well as for the banner, by the way!) Self-explanatory reasons, so let's move on.
* * *
Red Horse, in conspiracy with red and white, mega-whipped my ass two Saturdays ago. Last Saturday, it was J. C. and cotton b. But I was fine then, and I'm fine now. One more time'll make three.
* * *
Why can't spring break start already? I was talking to my sister a while ago, and she said that her school ends on Friday, just like mine does. But when I told her that mine'd end for just a week, she said, "Cham, mine's a real break, as in not just a week." Summertime in Manila. Emergency's over, the beaches await, and the fun's gonna start soon. I want to go home for the summer. But I know that I'll be here.
* * *
I'm drying up here, literally. My hands are red and itchy, and my fingers have the audacity to cut themselves just because I sometimes forget to apply lotion. My goodness. I'll say this for the one-millionth time - it's a really good thing I like me.
* * *
Last thing before I move on to the next dilly-dallying affair: I was thinking of being more thematic in my blog approach. Well, okay, I was thinking of explaining "The Gunner" theme and saying a bit about me and how this blog ties in with that and all that introductory horse that would somehow make for an interesting read. It was a good plan while it lasted.
It was snowing when I woke up for the second time today. As the past how many days have been blissfully snow-free, this did not come as a pleasant surprise. I hate snow; I really do. It looks nice and white and pure, but ... well, in the interest of Lent, I won't say what I really think of it. I don't like it at all. I don't, I don't, I don't. Oh well. That's one more thing to complain about.
For some reason, Natalie Imbruglia gets me right here every Sunday. Her lyrics just speak to me: "Tonight, can I be lost forever/To drown my soul in sensory pleasure" from Beauty on the Fire and "I'm counting down the days tonight/I just want to be a million miles away from here." from Counting Down the Days. (Thanks to Cokelover for the mp3s as well as for the banner, by the way!) Self-explanatory reasons, so let's move on.
Red Horse, in conspiracy with red and white, mega-whipped my ass two Saturdays ago. Last Saturday, it was J. C. and cotton b. But I was fine then, and I'm fine now. One more time'll make three.
Why can't spring break start already? I was talking to my sister a while ago, and she said that her school ends on Friday, just like mine does. But when I told her that mine'd end for just a week, she said, "Cham, mine's a real break, as in not just a week." Summertime in Manila. Emergency's over, the beaches await, and the fun's gonna start soon. I want to go home for the summer. But I know that I'll be here.
I'm drying up here, literally. My hands are red and itchy, and my fingers have the audacity to cut themselves just because I sometimes forget to apply lotion. My goodness. I'll say this for the one-millionth time - it's a really good thing I like me.
Last thing before I move on to the next dilly-dallying affair: I was thinking of being more thematic in my blog approach. Well, okay, I was thinking of explaining "The Gunner" theme and saying a bit about me and how this blog ties in with that and all that introductory horse that would somehow make for an interesting read. It was a good plan while it lasted.
3/02/2006
The Laundry Can Wait
I'm supposed to be editing something right now, but Franz Ferdinand's blasting away, and the laundy bomb is ticking, so I'll put the work off until the one-hour period that the clothes have to bake in the dryer. I've been extremely unproductive today, and I feel really, really good. Okay, I did get my work stuff done - for those of you who don't know, I'll be working as a Research Assistant this summer. Lots of good reasons why, and you can guess at them or get in touch in me and hope I'd tell you. So yeah, there was quite a bit of paperwork that I had to take care of. It was daunting at first, but it's all fixed now, and I'm glad. Why am I talking about work?!
* * *
Let's talk about something else. I got an e-mail from the Father Figure in this place I'm staying. Guess what it was about - Boxelder Bugs that are invading some apartments (not mine; only dust here). Sounds gruesome? Well, click here to see how they look like. And we thought cockroaches were bad. At least cockroaches are monochromatic. Colorful insects are just freaky. The website reminds me of my Constitutional Law professor. He likes making Powerpoint presentations with insects in them. How many classes ago, for instance, we were talking about this case (I can't remember the name.) with a green insect in it (Oh my goodness, I can't remember the insect either.) Anyway, he asked the class what effect that insect had (I think it was a fly) on interstate commerce. The first thing that popped into my mind was how it'd make people stay clear of its habitat-state. My classmate answered that people might flock over there to check the fly out. And yet another classmate answered that the fly affected biodiversity. Different kinds of lawyers with different kinds of answers. I am oh-so-glad that I didn't voice my answer out.
* * *
Just a while ago, I was cracking up because of this trailer. Oh my goodness, isn't it hilarious? It sets my endorphins off like crazy, and I think I'll go to that site instead of the gym when I need to feel happy. But I will start working out when I get to be 700 pounds. I felt so bad/horrified a while ago; I was in a certification class when the conductor said something about morbid obesity and how a 700-pound woman couldn't fit in the elevator in her workplace. Oh dear.
* * *
More than a little while ago, I was downtown, freezing my butt off in the bus station. I don't understand the term "freezing my butt off." It should be something like "freezing my face off" or "freezing my nose off." Or even "numbing my legs off." Well, some things don't make sense to me, and that's fine. A few days back, a friend and I were walking home from the library. I told her that we should get a massage, except that we should get a Thai massage. She repeated the Thai massage phrase, and I knew she thought I meant "thigh massage." That was laugh-out-loud funny. After we laughed about that, she said, "hey, whatever floats your boat." Yeah, whatever does, indeed. But sorry, a thigh massage doesn't do it for me.
* * *
It goes without saying that this site's under construction. Yeah, yeah, I like saying useless things. This blog wouldn't be here if I wanted to keep silent. I make no promises, but I think I'll be posting more often. I just love wasting time. Okay, my wet clothes have been waiting for ten minutes now. Back to the laundry place. Hey, maybe I can catch the last few minutes of American Idol! Okay, I'm out of here.
Let's talk about something else. I got an e-mail from the Father Figure in this place I'm staying. Guess what it was about - Boxelder Bugs that are invading some apartments (not mine; only dust here). Sounds gruesome? Well, click here to see how they look like. And we thought cockroaches were bad. At least cockroaches are monochromatic. Colorful insects are just freaky. The website reminds me of my Constitutional Law professor. He likes making Powerpoint presentations with insects in them. How many classes ago, for instance, we were talking about this case (I can't remember the name.) with a green insect in it (Oh my goodness, I can't remember the insect either.) Anyway, he asked the class what effect that insect had (I think it was a fly) on interstate commerce. The first thing that popped into my mind was how it'd make people stay clear of its habitat-state. My classmate answered that people might flock over there to check the fly out. And yet another classmate answered that the fly affected biodiversity. Different kinds of lawyers with different kinds of answers. I am oh-so-glad that I didn't voice my answer out.
Just a while ago, I was cracking up because of this trailer. Oh my goodness, isn't it hilarious? It sets my endorphins off like crazy, and I think I'll go to that site instead of the gym when I need to feel happy. But I will start working out when I get to be 700 pounds. I felt so bad/horrified a while ago; I was in a certification class when the conductor said something about morbid obesity and how a 700-pound woman couldn't fit in the elevator in her workplace. Oh dear.
More than a little while ago, I was downtown, freezing my butt off in the bus station. I don't understand the term "freezing my butt off." It should be something like "freezing my face off" or "freezing my nose off." Or even "numbing my legs off." Well, some things don't make sense to me, and that's fine. A few days back, a friend and I were walking home from the library. I told her that we should get a massage, except that we should get a Thai massage. She repeated the Thai massage phrase, and I knew she thought I meant "thigh massage." That was laugh-out-loud funny. After we laughed about that, she said, "hey, whatever floats your boat." Yeah, whatever does, indeed. But sorry, a thigh massage doesn't do it for me.
It goes without saying that this site's under construction. Yeah, yeah, I like saying useless things. This blog wouldn't be here if I wanted to keep silent. I make no promises, but I think I'll be posting more often. I just love wasting time. Okay, my wet clothes have been waiting for ten minutes now. Back to the laundry place. Hey, maybe I can catch the last few minutes of American Idol! Okay, I'm out of here.
2/27/2006
Blah Blah Blah
Two more weeks until spring break. That's the happy thought I've chosen to start my post with. Yes, this promises to be a ramble, all right. I don't want to look too far ahead, because these next two weeks are bound to be mega stressful. No worries though; I'm a superwoman when I want to be, and my enemies (i.e. readings and Emma Morgan's case) do not stand a chance. I shoot them before they shoot me. And I'm tired of the shooting lingo, so I'll stop.
I feel like I should write an intellectual piece about Gloria and Proclamation 1017. Oh, I have thoughts on those, all right, but I think there'll be a proper time to write that up. Diana Ross is singing "you can't hurry love" to me, and I'm thinking that you can't hurry essays either. They will come when they will. Me and my excuses, yeah? At least I get creative with them. People with boring excuses don't deserve to be excused.
Something creepy happened to me a while ago. I'd just gotten back from dinner with a friend and was settling down to work in a carrel in the basement stacks (i.e. part of the law school library with no windows). I started thinking about something profound and then I started thinking some more, and before I knew it, I was feeling really trapped and claustrophobic and creeped out, and I knew I just had to get out of there, so I did. Thankfully, my friend was heading out too, so we rushed out the law school together. We got home in record time too; according to her, I was walking extra-fast. Creepy, yeah? And I'm not referring to the walking fast part. I'm not going back to that place again. Well, knowing me, I probably will go back just to prove I can. And then I can leave the place for good. Or maybe I'll change my mind. Aquinas says that I can, and he seems like authority enough. I'd cite him in Bluebook form, but I'm not that demented. Yet.
Santa Banana and Holy Cow, my sense of humor is morphing into something strange. Thank God I still find me funny. Then again, I'm always really nice when it comes to me. And I do crack up at the most ridiculous things. I'm sleepy. May it please the court to sleep. It probably doesn't, but what the hey. This is it. The bed deserves my attention now.
I feel like I should write an intellectual piece about Gloria and Proclamation 1017. Oh, I have thoughts on those, all right, but I think there'll be a proper time to write that up. Diana Ross is singing "you can't hurry love" to me, and I'm thinking that you can't hurry essays either. They will come when they will. Me and my excuses, yeah? At least I get creative with them. People with boring excuses don't deserve to be excused.
Something creepy happened to me a while ago. I'd just gotten back from dinner with a friend and was settling down to work in a carrel in the basement stacks (i.e. part of the law school library with no windows). I started thinking about something profound and then I started thinking some more, and before I knew it, I was feeling really trapped and claustrophobic and creeped out, and I knew I just had to get out of there, so I did. Thankfully, my friend was heading out too, so we rushed out the law school together. We got home in record time too; according to her, I was walking extra-fast. Creepy, yeah? And I'm not referring to the walking fast part. I'm not going back to that place again. Well, knowing me, I probably will go back just to prove I can. And then I can leave the place for good. Or maybe I'll change my mind. Aquinas says that I can, and he seems like authority enough. I'd cite him in Bluebook form, but I'm not that demented. Yet.
Santa Banana and Holy Cow, my sense of humor is morphing into something strange. Thank God I still find me funny. Then again, I'm always really nice when it comes to me. And I do crack up at the most ridiculous things. I'm sleepy. May it please the court to sleep. It probably doesn't, but what the hey. This is it. The bed deserves my attention now.
2/22/2006
Back to One
Let's try this new lay-out, shall we? I was getting sick of the old one, and so it's dead, gone forever, never to be seen in Blogland again. Good riddance, you lay-out, you. I don't miss you at all, and I'm happy that I've killed you. So long, farewell, I need to say good-bye.
I am The Gunner. Chameleons are gross-looking creatures that might substantially affect interstate commerce just like the three-inch fly or the toad named Roberts. And Sofia is apparently the capital of Bulgaria, where I think Viktor Krum is from. The name doesn't fit me at all, so I'm ridding myself of it. Die, name, die.
I am insane. Aren't you glad you're nowhere near me tonight? Enough is enough is enough, I can't go on, I can't go on now. Sleeping time. By the way, I'm fine. Really.
I am The Gunner. Chameleons are gross-looking creatures that might substantially affect interstate commerce just like the three-inch fly or the toad named Roberts. And Sofia is apparently the capital of Bulgaria, where I think Viktor Krum is from. The name doesn't fit me at all, so I'm ridding myself of it. Die, name, die.
I am insane. Aren't you glad you're nowhere near me tonight? Enough is enough is enough, I can't go on, I can't go on now. Sleeping time. By the way, I'm fine. Really.
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