This is Why I Love School So Much

And this is why I love school so much…

Note: I take it back. The previous post isn’t the last post for the year. Actually, I’m kind of guilty that THIS is the last post of the year. It’s a negative post. Negative for my family, positive for ME and my SCHOOL. I wonder why CKSC students hate their school ‘cause I love it.

This was written out of anger conceived from my so-called home. Yes, people. SO-CALLED. Sorry, people I am not martyr enough to pretend that I’m happy in this. In fact, I think only a few people could relate to me in this post. Perhaps, Arianne, Aldric and Kenny only?

10. I get to be with the people I come to love (more than anything else other than LL) and rarely come to hate. MY FRIENDS. MY CLASSMATES. MY TEACHERS.
MY SCHOOLMATES.
They would never reprimand me even if I do something stupid. 'Sides, it's not my fauly I'm NOT a dupe. Apparently my mind matured faster than they thought it would. They don't really like kids who have opinions. Maybe they should go adopt Hilary Duff. (Btw, even Paris Hilton has a brain more opinionated than Duff's)

9. There is freedom to laugh and sing and act and express myself. Most especially to LAUGH. God, even coughing is prohibited in my SO-CALLED HOME.

There is freedom to voice out! You can recite anytime you want!

8. I am deprived of modern technology. Which is a good way of self-control. I mean, I’m not really good at self-control (is it obvious?) – I’m good with procrastination. But in school, I get to control myself.

7. I learn how to socialize.

6. I can be myself forever in school! I can talk about LL and Britney Spears’ friendship bond anytime! I can hate math without someone telling me to love it. I can flunk English on purpose because of rebelling reasons. I can enjoy Filipino immensely because, believe it or not, Ms. Reggie is my favorite teacher.

I could embarrass myself without feeling embarrassed because I know that my friends are there to support mo.

ALL OF THE ABOVE IS ME. ME ME ME ME ME – someone I couldn’t be when I am at home because I have to be damned prim and proper! WTH? ME? PRIM? PROPER? Opposite! That’s the opposite! Just because I’m the daughter of a freaking doctor? No thank you! I’d rather rebel!

5. I can continue writing blog posts. Or diary entries in school. People peek at my diary at home.

4. I could cry and people would ask me why.

That means they care. Unlike people out there.

3. I could win my debate arguments because I do make a point.

2. Music isn’t noise. My schoolmate’s loud talkativeness – that I usually hate especially if it’s Kennard blabbering – would be Music to my ears COMPARED to my father’s SO-CALLED “tenor” voice. It should be noted here that WE ARE not allowed to sing – he’s the only who has the permission.
My mother’s booming voice, too.

By the way, I have this hearing disorder called tinnitus and some (SOME! Judge the word) partial deafness. You REALLY cannot blame me for iPodding all day and all night. At least, that’s MUSIC.

1. They are the family I’ve always dreamed of. ALWAYS. I would feel loved NOT in a mushy mushy way! Ewww… MUSHY way love is only acceptable if it’s romance (with the opposite sex). It’s just a matter of feeling. You know these people love you back NOT in a mushy mushy way. In a friendly way. You know that the school itself loves you back.

End of List.

Don’t get me wrong, okay. It’s not that I HATE my family, dislike it or am unhappy with it. I never said anything like that. I just need an outlet for this. I don’t even know what this is. MY father is just so strict in wrong ways. It’s overprotectiveness na sobrang wala sa lugar. There – I spoke in Filipino. You know what that means right?

My Yuletide

The year is going to end in less than 500 hours. It sounds freaky, if you’re taking it all negatively – this year-ending phenomenon.

I suggest you shouldn’t because you really can feel the Christmas spirit in the air. At least, I always do. And it’s not because of the gifts. It’s all about the memories.

And hopefully, the memories I have left marked in your skin, or heart, or head would soon never vanish – would soon stay until next Christmas.

‘Cause all ends are beginnings – you already know that!

BUT wait. This post doesn’t end there.

In fact, even though that may seem like the “ending”, it’s only just the beginning (yeah, you already know that!).

It’s been 5 years (4 or 6?!) since I last mailed dear Santa Claus a letter asking for my very materialistic wishes but that doesn’t mean I don’t have wishes this year. They’re just not that materialistic anymore. Or in any way superficial. Because my Christmas wish list this year would be: happiness. Not for me, because my happiness is already granted. But for others. Like my family, my friends, EVERYONE, and even Santa himself.

I want them to feel the happiness that springs into my heart and leaps into my blood as if the body’s just a flowing river waiting for thirst to subside eternally – forever and ever.

I want YOU to feel the blessedness of the season the same way I felt it. It’s the happiest Christmas of my life, for goodness’ sake!

I want them to feel as MUCH if not MORE.

Because it feels like….life. It’s like all your burdens, problems and complications leave your body – leaving a healthy, overjoyed being that aims to spread joy.

And I know, deep down, I know that I made some despondent people happy – in one way or the other (oh, you know who you are and I know you’re admitting that too!). That’s what makes me happy.

Just this Christmas – and for the New Year, or forever.

I also want to thank EVERYONE who played a part in my obnoxious, complex life because it is clear to me that everyone taught me something – even the littlest of details (if only puwede kong isa-isahin ginawa ko na). THANKS to EVERYONE – especially to my family and friends!

Thanks to CKSC, too for teaching me things that life could no better beyond teach me how to. I am so glad what with all the turning points of events.

For one, I know that those “events” would lead me into the path of life that destiny would bring me to. Knowing that makes me happy. Knowing that makes me fulfilled.

MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

May Santa grant my wish and yours as well. May you be blessed with a brighter light this season.

And remember, yuletide starts with ‘y’. And ‘y’ stands for YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When Good Girls Go Loco

Little Miss Goody Two Shoes – people expect from her (especially the Chinese teachers), when she fails, people keep asking her what happened.

And that, people, is what I am feeling at this very month of December.

I wanna be a bad girl who flunks and does not care.

If a good girl flunks, she cares.

You see, it’s EASIER being bad than good.

(In terms of Academics, you guys)

Because “good” needs traits: hardwork, time, prioritization, organized stuff and lack of messiness.

Apparently, I have NONE of those above. And I don’t plan to have any. At all.

The pressure and the expectations (in Chinese, you guys) are just too high for me to reach. Because I don’t care. I’m not supposed to CARE because I DON’T want to CARE. I’m a stubborn bee. You can’t force me to like something I don’t.

Yet when I test my “goody-girlness”, I pass. I mean, like when there is a test the next day, I WON’T study the night before and then when the test comes in my face, I suddenly cram everything to my head and get at least an 85.

My point is, I don’t want to care about my Chinese grades anymore so I could focus on waning my stress and sleeping more at night. BUT I CAN’T!!!!!

WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR ME TO TURN INTO A BAD GIRL?
WHY?
WHY?
WHY?

IS IT BECAUSE OF THE GENETICS? SOMETHING IN MY DNA?

AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS NEVER CHEATED ON A FREAKING CHINESE TEST?

It’s exigent.

I guess, the 5 good traits don’t matter anymore (as I end this post, I mean). Because I think I have the ultimate trait that would reign above all – and that’s guilt.

PEACE.

I Remember...

I remember…

…the weirdest thing I have ever done.

I was 5 back then. Or 6. Maybe. I was fond of experimenting with stuff because my curiosity went more than it should have at that time.

I liked mixing different stuff because I thought I could create solid rock/pebbles/stones and then put them beside Jennifer and the good old fairies (Jennifer: the name of a doll that used to be so popular. I hate Barbie by the way).

One time, I grabbed the nearest plastic cup and filled it with a half-cup of water, poured Shampoo in it (I still remember the brand!), took a piece of soap and dropped it there, stole my mother’s lotion, put some anonymous creams that my mind could not fathom, put isopropyl alcohol, coke, and other fluids that would make you puke when combined all together.

I stirred (using a short barbeque stick), and stirred. I had an idea forming in mind – I was going to pour it to our huge balete tree somewhere in the backyard and then – poof! – after a day, that tree would grow diamonds!

I poured the disgusting, yuck molded mixture slash compound to that poor ‘ole balete tree and felt chemistry between satisfaction and, at the same time, guilt for I knew that my misled doings would wind up to the tree’s inevitable death.

The next day, I saw a HUGE diamond-looking crystal thingy in the loamy soil of the faithful balete and then I quickly dragged my father to see what marvelous thing I had invented. So I did. And when we got to that spot, the diamond thingy vanished, leaving me wanting to make another experiment and HUMILIATED for inviting my father to my so-called “genius debut”. And then I saw my aunt carrying said thingy, she said it was gonna be used as part of the props that some student is going to use. My hopes fell. No more genius thingy.

I was embarrassed!

But seriously, did you do that when you were a kid?

I hope I’m not the only weird one.

Dedicated to My Star-Studded Celebrity

What is it that you have that other people don’t?

What is it that you have that I just continue to have a penchant for?

Is it your intriguing life?

Is it your menacing talent which now seems to fade away with youth?

I don’t know. You still have it even if you’ve changed so much. You have become nasty and trashy and filthy all the way. But why did you ever go away from being clean?

I wish you have never changed. Sure, you learned a bundle of cerebral (and arterial) knowledge that schools can offer – but you learned it the hard way. You gave in to the temptations the world had to offer. Are you still tempted? Because knowing you back then, you were not. In fact, I saw no trace of any paw print of temptation.

Why did you do the crime? Why did you commit the crime of leaving one’s self for the worse?

Change is three things.

First, you change for the better. Second, you change (for the ugly/worst) because society pushes you through. Third, you don’t change – you just take off your mask.

And I don’t know if the mask has been there all along.
Or if the society is too much of a bitch for you to succumb.

I wanna help you. Because it is pathetic. The world is not so cruel if you look and listen. Why don’t you listen to me? Why don’t you look at me?

Don’t be like that. Please don’t.

As I seek to help other people and can’t seem to find ones that don’t work, I realize. The one person I need has been there since I was 8. You.

Don’t change back. Keep changing forward.

Because what’s “forward” is a whole lot better than left and right.

Isn’t it always like that?

Yes, it is.

Don’t forget to look back. And don’t forget to look at what’s hiding in your hindsight – because you will learn from it. And don’t forget, too, to look at what’s beside you. Battle your way out of this mess – dirt is hard to clean when it has stayed there long enough; when you clean it, it will have residues but residues can go away leaving only a trace of memory behind (which is what we really see when we look at cleaned-up-residues). If you don’t clean the residues, then there’s no memory left at all. Remember: leave a mark that makes a statement, not otherwise.

Because I will always believe in you – even if that sounds the most unrealistic thing I have ever stated.

Today is your turning point. Jump at it. Like what you said: “Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away”. (That was one thing that marked!).

Most of all, when you go forward, promise not to go away.

I miss you.

Forgetfulness

A biography won’t be complete without the life of the person being written about.

In THIS fictional autobiography, I am the writer and the one being written about.

And here’s an update about my LIFE.

Well, I think I’ve finally done it.

I have reached my current potential. And I’m loving it.

It’s like I forgot how to be mad, sad, angry, irritated, on the verge of suicide.

It’s like my memory ran away from my heart and brain. Because, I really did forget how o be all those.
I EMBRACE MY WHIMSICALITY!

Thank this year for making me stronger!

It’s life in a new light.

And the light is not one pint of a burden.

I love it.

I’m finally living it.

And I’m never gonna leave.

I love life.

Live. Love. Let Go.

Amazing.

Confessions of a Teenage B*****

Note: Do not read this post if you have a rather faint, non-profane heart. Or ear. OR eyes. I warn you.

I promise to mention the word at most 5 times. If you wanna know what the hullabaloo (CRAP. DID I JUST TYPE THE WORD?) is all about, just listen. I mean, read.

Recently, I discovered a strong fetish, love, like, (passion?) with the word BITCH. I don’t know. It’s really weird because back then (a year ago, perhaps?) I was amazingly obsessed with the word SLUT. Later (perhaps, a few months ago?), I rekindled my romance with like words. I became obsessed with DAMN.

Now, few months later, I find myself OBSESSED with the word BITCH. AMAZING.

Is it because I myself am a bitch?

Is it because it’s female dog?

Is it because when you utter it, it gives you a funny feeling?

Is it because Lindsay Lohan is a bitch (not a SLUT, y’all!)

Oops. I think I mentioned the word four times now.

Anyway, what is a bee?

(Bee is a rather euphemistic version of the B* word). The perfect definition of a bee is someone perhaps who talks in an ear-splitting way, bossy (like for real), uhhmm what else? Kinda like me. But I am not that kind of BEE you know. You know, the one you’re thinking about.

What is NOT a bee?

Bees are no sluts.

Bees are not dirty.

Bees are not backstabbing bees.

What is basically a bee?

It lies perfectly well in the PERSONALITY. NOT the trait.

That personality is, just as I mentioned, ear-splitting, bossy, irritating (at times but not ALWAYS!).. but in nature LIKEABLE especially when you get to know her. (Yes, I used ‘her’). And besides, you’ll learn a lot from her. Just like her friends say say. Bees teach you know!

I guess I’m still obsessed. I hope this lasts much longer. It’s so relaxing, saying the word.

‘Sides, you’ll probably hear me saying/screaming/yelling it out loud anyway.

BITCH!!!!