| (no subject) |
[Aug. 29th, 2005|05:14 am] |
| [ | current mood |
| |  stressed | ] |
i hate failures. honestly.
i want to be good at something for a change.
this is so irritating.
i hate my grades.
i hate the school. ugh.
i'm too stressed to even write something. |
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| Stuff. |
[Aug. 12th, 2005|09:33 pm] |
| [ | current mood |
| | erk-y | ] |
| [ | currently listening to |
| | wake me up when september ends | ] |
It's been a long time since I last updated. Exams has just ended and I can say that it was ok. At least, I had a break from all the stress I was having. I mean, I didn't really study for the exams. I just reviewed and scanned my notes. Anyway, let me just brief you on the things you missed.
1. I still don't know if my article is going to be published or not, Jed has not passed it yet. But anyhow.
2. I hate the *FD. Officially.
3. ELC responsibility radar.. tick tick tick tick.
4. Spelling elimination, I think it's next week. I hope I can get in. *crossed fingers*
5. I'm getting tired of Gilbert's thing. But it still makes me laugh though.
6. I'm really not cut out to being Pres. of ELC. But I guess it's okay. I like the responsibility anyway.
7. I finished watching DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES SEASON 1!!!
8. I want a new book. And shoes. And clothes. And.. blahblah. You don't want to hear that.
9. Hmm. What else... I can't believe after such a long time, I can't write anything! Usually after this long a time I can write really farking long entries. I'm just not really inspired lately. Maybe because everything is just passing through my life and I don't really have time to think, and less of the ME-time.
10. Nothing really happens to my life, really. It's just the same old boring day repeating itself again and again.
This sucks. |
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| "Interview Me." |
[Jul. 18th, 2005|07:06 pm] |
1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions.
3. Post the answers to the questions on your Tabulas/LJ/Xanga/Blogger or any other blog host.
4. Include this explanation.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, ask five questions.
---------->
From Willie:
1. Why do you think life sucks for us teenagers?
- Honestly, I do not know. Maybe because we want a whole new world where we want it done OUR way. Or maybe that's just me.
2. If you can meet anyone dead or alive, who would it be and why?
- This question really made me think. And I had to ask a bunch of people, too. Actually, I don't really know what to answer here. I want to meet a lot of people, and it's really hard choosing just one or two. Maybe Jesus, ask him questions and stuff. And know who he really is, and I prolly want to know how it feels like to have God as your father.
3. Name one of your most memorable experience.
- Hmm. Everyday is a memorable experience. :)
4. Do you think ross and rachel belong together? (nanunuod ka naman ng friends diba?)
- Yes, I think so. They're perfect for each other.
5. Name one of your neurotic quirks.
- I always need to read something before going to sleep.
- I sing in the shower.
- I always hug my pillow while sleeping.
- And I imagine the pillow is someone else.
- I always put my cellphone in my left pocket and my wallet in my right.
- Whenever I pass a mirror, I always check myself out, if everything is in order. (vain. hehe)
Do those count? Hehe. Kakahiya. LOL.
To Willie: I hate your questions. (!!!) Hehe. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 13th, 2005|04:06 am] |
This is the complete, edited version. It's a lot better, and organized. Anyway, tell me what you think. And yeah, I need a title. Can you suggest one? Thankyouverymuch.
When I was kid, my grandmother used to take care of me. My parents were too busy with earning money, but nevertheless, they were there for me as well. My grandmother was old-fashioned, as most grandmothers are. But, perhaps, when the time God blessed us with quirks, my grandma got quite a good share of them. We were her only grandchildren, my three siblings and I. Even though she divided her love in good equal quarters, I was hinted that I got more than that. I secretly knew she loved me the most.
There was a time in Robinson’s Place, I remember grandma and five year-old me were walking. She asked me if I was tired; I nodded, not hearing what she said. I was surprised when she bent down, picked me up, and carried me.
More than carrying me, however, she also stood up for me in much repeated occasions. She sided with me whenever I got into a fight with one of my siblings. Back in kindergarten, on the way to Manila Zoo, she even told my teacher that I was carsick just so that I could sit in front of the bus, and not on those hideous seats at the back.
My experiences with her were chronicled in a really compelling series, like those Chinese TV programs we loved watching. As I rested my head on her belly while we watched, she told me a lot of random things on uniformly random topics. She even developed an odd habit of mumbling to herself at times. Watching these Chinese TV series were Ladies’ Night for the both of us. We often had “girl talks” and she told me she wanted to be there on the day of my marriage. I told her that I would definitely invite her and that she would be my guest of honor. It’s funny, to think that I used to believe it would come true.
She slept with me during nights. She woke up in the middle of those nights just to accompany me to the bathroom or whenever I was thirsty for a glass of water. There was one scary incident when a cockroach rested on our bed. I was frightened to death but she assured me it was already dead. But when she touched it, it moved hysterically. My grandma, always the Agent 007, finally caught it and we went back to sleep soundly.
I was truly cared for and loved by her, and I was grateful for it. In return, I frequently showed off to her how well I did in school and how much “stars” I received each day. Sometimes, I go with her to the association where she had a singing choir of all these old people, all of them grandmothers. Consequently, she constantly told me that she was already very old and that she would die soon. I always hated her whenever she said that.
There were also sad memories, in midst of those happy ones. Sometimes, I would be a complete brat and she would get mad at me. We bickered like two kids fighting for a bag of candy. Often times, she told me she’d rather sleep with my older sister than with me when she was mad. I had a lot of pride back then and I always pretended it didn’t affect me. But I couldn’t resist it, so I cried and begged her to forgive me. And she always did. Always. As if nothing ever happened in the first place.
But all of those good “beginnings” suddenly switched gears into an unrighteous turn of events. Everything changed when we found out she had lung cancer. I thought, if my life would be a story, this would be an appalling climax. But it wasn’t a story; this was happening for real. Symptoms were already showing. Eventually, she had to move to the room downstairs because she faced great difficulty in climbing the stairs. Time passed and she couldn’t see, nor talk anymore. My parents had hired midwives to take care of her. I visited her every time I came home. At night, I always cried myself to sleep.
When I was twelve, my grandfather passed away. The midwives told us that my grandma had shed tears. She just knew. After a few months, she followed him. On her wake, I tried to pull myself together and tried thinking of other things. On the day of her funeral, I wasn’t able to control my tears. They kept crawling down my cheeks until I reached my pillows to sleep. That is, if I ever slept at all.
I found out that, recurrently, my brother still visits the altar that holds my grandparents’ photographs every time he comes home. My mother accused me of not doing the same thing, remembering my grandparents. Upon hearing this, I suddenly transfigured into this wildly whistling kettle, wanting to shout at her and tell her what she didn’t know. My tears were already building up on the very cliff of my eyes. I went to the bathroom and cried. No one saw me. And when I came out, I looked perfectly normal, if only the present could ever be like that as well. If only things weren’t so different.
I wrote this in behalf of everyone who wants to acknowledge the people who have made a difference in their lives; those special people who made everything different, only for us to realize that a little difference wouldn’t hurt. And if ever we wish to turn things back to where they were, we have a whole, full life to do so.
And now? I’m settling for the next best thing, my mother. But that’s another story. :) |
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