Why Do These Things Keep Happening to Me?

I really wish I could say "enough of the drama". Or "I'm cutting out the drama". Or "my life is void of drama". But I really can't. It's like a genetic DISABILITY. Take note, DISABILITY, not INABILITY.

Sometimes, the drama's all in THE MIND.

I need a shrink for this one.

First of all, lemme describe an average day in my life. Today would be a good start. I go to school happy and all that since I rank 8 in my class, got the highest grade in blah blah blah (I do not wanna start bragging). I even shriek in the appropriate times. I even act like a normal person. But then comes 2nd period. I begin to worry. Worry about that oratorical competition thingy. Mrs. Ong had asked me to TIE MY HAIR IN A FULL PONYTAIL. Which is like a curse on my part because of my face shape (think FAT GIRL).

Of course, I laugh about those stuff. I laugh at myself you know. I'm not all high and mighty, contrary to pessimistic belief.

Now I begin to think about my worrying. WHY AM I EVEN WORRIED? I ask myself (2nd period). Just the thought of it makes my heart go gaga. Literally. It's:

1. 55% excitement (to see the outcome)
2. 15% adrenaline
3. 20% fear (of losing)
4. 10% anxiety (of all of the above)

That's a total of 100%. That 100% takes over my body like a lethal injection. As a reflex, my heart beats non-systematically. It fluctuates. It goes thump thump thump. Then thump thump thump 12 times. Then multiply that by 12 again. And again. And again. I am not kidding. I really lose oxygen - I'm asthmatic too. Then I could feel myself gag. I wanna barf. And because I don't actually barf, I keep coughing. And coughing. And then the watery thing fills my eyes. Not TEARS! Just that watery thing. People ask: "are you crying?"

They think I'm crying tears of joy.

It's true, the past week's been bliss.

I'm like "NO". I feel like barfing. But I don't add that since it will simply catalyze a barrage of questions - HATEABLE questions - "are you okay?", "wanna go to the comfort room?" or worse: "CAT, OKAY KA LANG??".

I feel as if my body is immobilized.

Because of that oratorical thingy. As I experience that bodily phenomenon, my mind wanders. If I don't win this oratorical audition/thingy/whatever/elimination round, it will be the end of my career as we know it. If I win this oratorical thingy, my anxiety will be down by (a measly) 5%. If I don't win this thing, I will kill myself since I fear failure. If I win this thing, I will be self-satisfied.

There's a billion more where that came from....

But in lieu of thinking about the billion, I subdue myself to the bodily phenomenon. I find it harder to breathe. My heart is beating too fast. I feel weak because of oxygen sufficiency. I feel immobilized by too much blood rush. My head is spinning because of those aforementioned questions. My back begins to hurt for reasons I am unaware of. My whole body system wants to shut down but my mind makes it stop. And... and...

I rehearse the speech inside my head.

Oh, and then this thought strikes me: OMG. When is Mrs. Ong going to rehearse with me? What time did she say again? 3rd period? NEXT PERIOD? When's the contest, in the first place? What period? I should've asked Caryl! Dammit, I do not want to lose to anyone! I wrote the piece they're going to memorize!

The bell rings.

I escape. But as I do so, I begin to feel my claustrophobia seething in. Shit.

Of all fears, why do I have to be claustrophobic?

Third period comes. Values. Role play. Thank God for ad lib! Although it was a success, the only thing on my mind all throughout was: where is Mrs. Ong?

Shit.

Then the same bodily phenomenon overcomes me the moment I sit. Only now, it's worsened by questions - MENTAL questions. I ask... (in my head)... what if he gets a higher score than me on next quarter's report card thingy? What if I begin to decline? What if I flunked that? What if I didn't deserve that perfect score? Shit. Where's Mrs. Ong? What am I supposed to do? The bell's about to ring and I'm still HERE. Good goddess, everyone's reading Tech! We have a quiz! I need to get a damned perfect score if I wanna compete with these people! But...but how could I study now when the words don't enter my mind? I can't comprehend a damned thing! Aack my eyes hurt!! Stupidity scratched it to redness last night! Crap. I feel sleepy NOW. Tech...tech...tech...

Those questions heighten the negative effect of said bodily phenomenon to me as a human being.

And the cycles get worse each time.

I manage to live off time during 4th period. But in fact, I was secretly rehearsing the piece back in my head. Elaine asks something. I'm pretty sure I say: "the problem is, I've never joined an oratorical contest before. I've always joined declamation contests. And my experience there is, like, *hand gestures that denote "vast"*. So ...." I shrug.

Deep inside, I want to curl up to bed.

5th period is a nightmare.

First, this guy (he who shall not be named because we're not really uber close friends) from 4-6 in a barong comes in my Tech class (we're in the Tech Lab) and asks for "Miss Catherine". I leave. I tie my hair. No prob. No biggie.

When I entered 4-6 (Mrs. Ong was there, wearing a yellow Filipiniana), Mam Ong uttered words I did not hear. I have ear problems. And I just stand there NODDING to something I can't even hear; second-guessing. AGAIN. Then I leave.

I wish to guess what she said right. As I understand it, I must to go back to take the Tech quiz first, then come back to her later. No idea on what "later" meant.

Blah blah blah. I took the test. And then all of a sudden, I find myself cursing at my monitor. For freaking shallow reasons. (It's kinda funny NOW). Mam Pablo probably heard this and thought I was cursing her (oh please no, Mam Pablo's like one of my fave teachers) so she said it's ok for me to go back to Mrs. Ong.

I freeze in my seat.

I don't wanna orate.

Nuh-uh.

Of course, that's the stupidest thing you could say to yourself. "I don't wanna orate."

God, Miss Pablo's just so nice, you know.

I head back. Only, in that process, I find another 4-6 guy, on his way to the Tech Lab to "fetch" me. And this sucks because I don't wanna seem all VIP to the world you know. I hate that kind of attention.

I spend an ENORMOUS amount of time fixing my hair AFTER THAT. I don't know. I have hair issues, okay?

Boy, do I love Mrs. Ong. I really, really do. I look up to her. Up UP.

I come to 4-6 8 minutes later to find no Mrs. Ong in front of the class. So I head for the faculty. Before I do that, my Guild comrade Pauline and the 4-6 guy come to stop me from doing that because it turns out Mrs. Ong was seated at the back. It was embarrassing since the 4-6 guy was like, "hey, over here" or something like that. He had this very weird smile on, and I felt like I was the shittiest, weirdest person in the universe. It freaking made me feel inferior. It wasn't HIS fault, of course. The guy's nice.

I speak in front - BUT BEFORE I DO, SOMETHING WEIRD SLIPS OUT OF MY MOUTH. I was all: "Can I ask a question first, is Lindsley the contestant for the oratorical?" Well, Linds and I know each other so it's okay since ... since she's Lindsley. And basically half, if not a quarter of the senior English section knows me. It wasn't at all embarrassing while I was standing there. It was only after the speech, after I said: "thank you" and "bye bye" to the class that I realized I was so stupid for having to ask that fucking question.

It has nothing to do with 4-6 or Mrs. Ong - in fact, those are two things (THINGS?) I respect and revere. It has something to do WITH ME. Why do I have to be so damned screwed in the first place? The good news was/is: I felt good. I think I actually aced it. The BEST NEWS IS: my written piece was chosen for the Infantado-Ylagan (service excellence of teachers for nation-building) oratorical competition!!!!!! Oh, and the real contest was postponed to Monday).

Icing on the cake, y'all. I'm still the best writer in town (ahem, delete all bragging undertones - better yet, delete the whole sentence since some Miss Emo might burst again).

The rest is history. But hah! Think again! The bodily phenomenon still fluttered on me up to Chinese.

And it forever will.

Now, answer this for me, why don't you: WHY DO THESE THINGS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?

Of Stage Mothers, Irrational Fathers and Filial Piety

Sometimes I believe I'm the most normal person in the family. 

My family's a fucking mess. Perhaps you guys would be saying: "psshht" and some others might say: "Catherine's exaggerating." and others would just shrug. Not caring. Thinking I'm creating another perfect epitome of drama.

I wish I was creating THIS. I wish it wasn't real. WISH.

But it's real.

Allow me to speak. And dare not judge.

My mother is terror.

My father is a monster.

My parents.... I don't even know where to start. 

Well, they curse a lot. 

They curse Filipino CURSES a lot. I'd rather hear 'em curse the F word or whatever. That would be more normal. 

My brother... he's a mini-me version of my father and a male version of my mother.

My sister... she has become dark because of my 'rents. But. We're partners in crime!

I'm not saying I don't love them. I'm saying I'm sick and tired of them. Heck, I'm 15 years old. This is 15 years of excruciating family drama. You know, in a sense, we're a broken family. No one's happy anymore. I want to tell them how to mend the "brokenness" as I type this. But they won't listen.

(Well, as I type this, my mom is bitching; I stifle the urge to hurl a bitchy yet rational response to her bitchings. I'm biting my tongue right now.) 

Fuck. It's okay to open your mouth non-stop when what you say makes SENSE. But when it doesn't? Just shut up.

I'd rather have my parents not talking than talk crap and blindness.

I'm scared of my father.

When I was a kid, I realized that he wasn't instilling respect. He was instilling fear. When you instill FEAR to a kid, you don't expect her to respect YOU! 

God. 

They'd probably kill me the moment they read these posts.

Whatever. I don't care anymore.

True. I've made mistakes. I've been disrespectful. I'm not even the best daughter in the world. Heck, I'm not in the Top 30. But why is that so? Is it only ME to be blamed? Low parenting skills, I'd say. 

And maybe when I click the "publish post" button, I'd regret writing this post. 

Because of fear.

I am so sick of pretending that everything's perfect. It's NOT. It's the complete fucking opposite, okay? Why are you so afraid of showing it? WHY??? Why do you do that to the extent of instilling fear to your children? Does it NOT occur to you that instilling fear in a family basis instills fear in a child's societal life? 

I don't wanna say that I'm smarter than you.

I just want you to hear me out.

SO LISTEN! 

-terminated-

2 years from now, we'd be trudging the hallways of college. I'm not ready for that. I don't WANT that, dammit. I don't even know what course I should take. My heart beats social arts - liberal arts. Writing, philosophy, psychology, social studies. Those kinds of stuff. Those stuff allow me to think, allow me to imagine and therefore allow me to write. The only thing I wanna do in life: imagine, think, write. Not necessarily in that particular order.

I wanna write forever. Thanks to tonight and yesternight, I have realized that. Last night, I was working. Writing. For the guild. And even for this blog. You have absolutely no idea how much it makes me feel good. I just want to write forever!

But what money would it give me? Nil. It's not that I think of it. It's just that I'm warned about it. And living life without this computer to type on, this iPod to listen to and this book to read is as crucial as not being able to live a life without writing. I don't know what course to take. Don't even bother asking me.

These are the days when world peace is uber handy.

Utopia, Dystopia

I kill myself in horror
Upon the thought of your flaws
I drill my mind just to pretend
Just to manifest your sublimity

I cremate my brain for dictating otherwise
I burn my dreams just to prove you exist
I trash my name in order to perfect you
I live a lie so I can be just like you.

In my head, you are flawless
In my heart,you are so full
In my head, you are his ambrosia
In my heart, you are no fairy tale

In my head, you'll always be perfect
In my heart, you are immaculate
In my head, he will always love you
In my heart, you dance like a goddess

Hopelessly Devoted; "Mind Over Matter Makes Pooh Unfatter."

Ahhhh, it's that time of the month again. Nope, I don't mean THAT time of the month. I mean: Entertainment-Marathon-Week. EMW is a period of time - usually lasts for a week or two - that obliges me to WATCH random things interconnected to entertainment. TV Series, Movies, Music Videos, Viral Videos, Happy Tree Friends (kidding!). This month's EMW encompasses PUSHING DAISIES. And supposedly, Mamma Mia (sadly the pirated DVD sucks - it's not even a clear copy so I'm so off with it so now I'm re-watching Pushing Daisies).

Lee Pace is just so TALL. And Anna Friel's acting is so... real.

(Kevin P. parody)

In a nutshell:

(-Kevin P. parody ends here- LOL!)

Pushing Daisies is about a 20-something guy named Ned who has become a pie-maker due to childhood circumstances (see show for more details). But he's not just any ordinary pie-maker. In fact, he's not anyone ordinary at all! He can bring dead people alive with just a touch (even a brush of skin here is considered as touch). But there ARE conditions, though. A touched-person can only stay alive for ONE MINUTE or else someone in close proximity will die a sudden death. Another condition: A touched-person cannot be touched for a second time or else he or she will die forever! "First touch, life. Second touch, death forever," says the narrator.



The gist starts when in the pilot episode, it's seen that her childhood love named Chuck (a.k.a Charlotte Charles - played by Anna Friel) died a mysterious death (see show for more details). He touched her once - this connotes LIFE. But he can't touch her again - or else, DEATH. Basically, they can't touch. They can't kiss. they can't hug. They can't have you-know-what. Which sucks, by the way. LOL!

Ned has another career, though. He interrogates the dead ("Do you know who killed you?", and then plucks the corresponding rewards) with Emerson Cod (see show for more details).


Despite all the restrictions, the show is still so sweet. But not too sweet to the extent of saccharine-ness. Ned is a cute act. And Anna Friel is a talented Brit. Yes, she's a Brit but in the show she managed/manages to set aside her British accent and make her dialogues seem accent-less. She's that talented!

Although its first season only consists of 9 episodes (due to the Strike), Pushing Diasies has been nominated 18 Emmy nominations (I don't know what percent o'those it has won). But seriously, it's THAT good.

You know what else is funny? Chuck's two agoraphobic aunts! They used to be swimmers called "The Darling Mermaid Darlings". But due to unfortunate circumstances, they retreated to the darkness of their house.

Oh, one thing I forgot to mention: Wikipedia considers this as a forensic fairy tale dramedy (or so I remember it to be that).

I'm not sure if men would like THIS kind of show since, after all, it's a "fairy tale dramedy". But the show's storyline is really good. And so witty.

Its second season comes in October, in case you're interested.

"Awww. You're stuck. You're like Winnie the Pooh!" - Chuck to Emerson Cod

"Mind over matter makes Pooh unfatter!" - Chuck to Emerson Cod

Why "Pushing Daisies", you ask? Well, nobody knows! Wait for the second season!



So basically, while I wait in vain for Gossip Girl's much-awaited second season on September 1, I am quick to re-watching the whole Pushing Daisies season.

After all, I'm "hopelessly devoted to you..."

LOL!

Before I forget, I'd like to thank Elaine for giving me the whole season. THANK YOU!

Do I Really Want This?

Exams week. The week of my happiness; no sarcasm, mind you. I've been pretty happy lately - I've been happily playing Pokemon from VBA (thanks to Carl) and thoroughly NOT studying. Nonetheless, I've learned quite a lot.

And now, students, we tackle the difference between LEARNING and STUDYING.

You don't need to freaking memorize the Math book, Chem book, Bio book, Literature book, whatever metallurgical book to learn something. You can learn even by just LOOKING at its cover. Literally. This post - I'd like to recite out loud. I'd like to speak it in front of a hundred people - a hundred grade-obsessed people - parents and children and old people alike. Teachers, even. I know that many of G-O people are pressured. I do know that that pressure is so dominant. Yes, I know that and I have the right to say it out loud because heck, I was a valedictorian. And there's this certain quality that valedictorians HAVE that other smart, intellectual non-valedictorian people don't. Ain't bragging. Simply stating to make a CLEAR point to the G-O people who happen to be non-v.

Pressure is dominant, overwhelming and even... intimidating. But you are not SUPPOSED to let it control your life! You're not supposed to, I reiterate (this is from one of my previous posts), sit on your arse and watch the world revolve on its axis. You keep saying that you're pressured by your stage moms and stage dads (I have a stage mom. A total stage mom.) - so is half of the world!

You are also not supposed to belittle people who are not as persistent as you are. I know what you all would probably say. "I don't have pride. I'm still here, down, earth." Whatever. Tell you what, you live with pride! There is no single creature in this world who has NO pride. It's just a matter of how HIGH it is, my friends. And when you're an overachieving G-O. You live with pride. Automatically. Am I right? Quick. Look at yourselves. Then answer: Am I right?

Worst, these belittled people, sometimes, are smarter than those ABOVE. These belittled people don't care about Significant Figures. They don't care about crap like that. They care about the world. Personally, yes, I'm one of those belittled people. I used to be an overachiever (but not a G-O) and yet I still feel the judgment. Think about it.

So what if I don't get a perfect score in the Chem test today huh? What happens? Will the world die? No, it won't.

Nobody is perfect. No KIND of intellect is perfect. Everybody has a different kind of brain.

Ask yourselves before you falter. "Do I really want this?" Do you really want to be an overachieving G-O? I'll give you a clearer citation. Being an overachiever G-O is like being at the peak of the mountain. Mt. Everest, for example. Your smartness knows that Mt. Everest has ice at its peak, right? You're at the peak of the mountain. You built your house there - at the peak. Your house topples over but doesn't fall because you hold on to it. Your smartness realizes that: "Shit. I built my house at the tip of the mountain! What do I do? It will fall anytime soon now!" Better yet, you think: "What was I THINKING???"

That's my point. You weren't thinking at all. Or worse, you never had a brain to start with. You were aiming for fame, prestige, recognition... which is okay to aim at as long as you know yourself and you know the mountain itself. Now, the people at the middle part of the mountain are happy and satisified with their lives. Even though you stepped on them during your race to the top, they forgave you. Why? Because they weren't aiming for the peak! They were aiming for clean living. They were aiming for what was right. They're the SMART ONES!

Again, ask yourself. "Do I really want this?"

If I asked my freshman self that question, I'd say: "Yes! Yes! YES! I WANT IT. I want to be know all over the school as the V! I want fame, prestige, recognition!"

If I asked my sophomore self that question, I'd say: "I don't really know."

Now, I ask myself. The answer is a big fat NO. Why? You G-O people ask. Because the price to pay is not worth it. It's like buying Hitler's white Mustang for $4000 when I could buy, say, Nick Joaquin's dented Mustang for $1000. Shall I speak of it more? Do I want to automatically have pride as high as Mt. Everest? No. Do I want to step on to other people? No. Do I want my house to fall? No. What happens if I say yes to all those questions? What's the effect, the aftermath? What do I get? Fame? School fame that will vanish itself after you graduate school? No. I don't want that. Look at Oprah. Influential, right? Was she a G-O back in her high school? No. Look at Tyra Banks! She didn't even finish college! She's now a female-empowerment advocate now. How about me? The belittled one? My achievements? Well, I bet you that white Mustang. I struck a tone in your brains, didn't I? I'm not academically the smartest creature. But I have a brain. A brain that thinks differently. And yes, I call myself smart. Besides, you won't be able to read up to THIS long if what I said isn't making any sense.

"Do I really want this?"

No.

Freaking Pissed

Again, I'm supposed to be doing OTHER stuff right now. I do feel the need to shout: EFF YOU ALL SO MUCH.

I wish I could put the whole F-word here. It's just so nice saying it. It makes me feel more of a human being and less of a superficial naive.

Every night the same rituals materialize right before my eyes. I hate hearing your voice. I hate seeing your face. I hate listening to your words and I hate you more than any words could depict, sketch, paint, draw. Whatever. F you!!!!

WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST FRIGGIN' STOP SAYING THOSE THINGS?

They don't make any sense to me at all. You are an irrational, delusional climber. And that thought alone is enough to ruin anyone's mood forever. I can't stand you. Listen to yourself. LOOK at yourself and maybe your hatred would turn itself in on you. That would be better. I would then finally live a peaceful life. And then maybe I could freely go to Heaven. Without your voice, your words, your thoughts, your face, your life. I don't want you. I don't like you. I hate you.

Eff you.

Fcuk you!!!!!