Bandwagons

Out of sheer desire to join the trend (and realizing that I'm left behind my friends after three years had passed) I finally made my own Friendster account! *collective gasp* Of course, my preoccupation with the site has prevented me from updating, since I'm a badass sucker when it comes to multitasking.

Anyway, summing up my life so far... I also finished my first letter to Negi (FINALLY). After days of deliberation and conscience-searching, I made a roughly three-page letter. Unbound. Unlimited. Unreal. Writing about everyday life makes it seem more interesting. Yeah, I can already feel someone's excitement on the other side of the planet as he eagerly anticipates the secrets of the arcane document. Haha.

However, remind me to guilt-trip. I made the letter during our Chemistry discussion in the review center. But wait, not listening to boring teachers has already been legalized! Cheers! Nyahaha... I'm so cruel. the review's purpose is to buff me up for UPCAT. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I have to go for now. Internet time's run out. So long, farewell...

24 Hours of Catatonia with Shinja, Jeliza-Rose and... Bonnie

Someone's going to be in real trouble soon. It's been more than 48 hours and someone far away's not replying yet... I wonder why. Maybe it's too early to bitch about his missing correspondence but it was he, after all, who promised to give me news of their arrival immediately. Oh well, better not bother myself with that much. The name of the game is Waiting, my dears. I've got to give him time to marvel at this "new life" of his. (That's the bad part. He's got a new one while I don't have any. Sucks.)

Within two days, I became resigned to the fact that I am doomed for another summer in the doldrums. The sign? Spending more time with my old pal, the PC. I'm afraid the poor thing will expire before the month ends. Just yesterday I played Battle Realms from 9 in the morning to 10 in the evening, until which the computer's memory ran low again, promptly cutting another skirmish between the Serpent clan and the Lotus clan. Really, I was planning to write a story, but since I lied to myself that there was plenty of time at hand, I succumbed to the temptation of playing instead.

Throw any assumption that I'm forgetting my health out of my window. Battle Realms is not the same as online gaming. I still remembered to take breaks, eating lunch and dinner and taking a bath in between of those games. Besides, it's hard to lose myself in the world of towering Warlocks and sneaky mugging Swordsmen when I am frequently switching stations on the radio or cuddling Bonnie on my lap.

Another reason that prohibited the computer from sucking out my soul was my mind was constantly humming all day because of Tideland(2005). I watched it yesterday, and while it didn't exactly blew my mind because of its weirdness, it left me reflecting on my own sanity. Directed by Terry Gilliam (The Twelve Monkeys, Monty Python and the Holy Grail), it stars Jodelle Ferland as Jeliza-Rose, the daughter of a washed-up rocker father (Jeff Bridges) and a junkie mother (Jennifer Tilly) they called Queen Gunhilda in her death. Her father is greatly fascinated by Norse mythology and culture and vows to bring Jeliza-Rose to Jutland someday. When her mother dies of a heroin overdose, they stuff her in a blanket along with her favorite things like shoes and junk. Jeliza-Rose is brought by her father to a rural farmhouse once inhabited by her grandmother. It is then she starts living in the surreality of solitude...

Call this film creepy... strange... therefore, I loved it. The heroine herself is a prime candidate for the loony bin someday. She helps her father in his habit, she has "talking" doll heads for company, she talks to squirrels, and she reads Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Before you start pitying Jeliza-Rose, you begin to think twice. Being brought up with parents who have never had any firm grip on reality for more than a day left her to be cunning and adult-like on her own. She is constantly left to be the only decent person in the household, causing her to seek company by her own means.

The real fun begins when Jeliza-Rose meets Dell and Dickens, their neighbors, the former a total witch and the latter an epileptic with mental disabilities...

The ending is quite unpredictable, which is quite something because the eccentricities of the characters could get monotonous too. I just waited desperately for the film to end. Anyway, Tideland's still worth recommending for those of you who don't really need a plot to call a movie a movie. Get me? Let's see how many of you will last without wanting a paracetamol.

(Unwanted) Liberation

Thus did a tumultuous era came to an end.

My boyfriend (there, I already used his proper title) left for US, Minnesota specifically, early this morning. I know, a lot of you must be thinking that I'm saying "Good riddance". Frankly, yesterday, that's what I was musing upon. Yep, his last day on the beautiful Republic of the Philippines was spent with his girlfriend planning to make him forget her for the rest of his life.

I can't help it. I hated him (note the past tense please). I was expecting him to spend every minute with me but instead he dived headfirst into the requirements, going to and fro with Ellis answering to the teachers' every friggin' beck and call (notice how our teachers' human, irrational side come to surface when completion of requirements draw near). I mean, shouldn't it be the class president and vice-president attending to that? The guy was being a goddamn class servant! And I mean that in the negative sense. Apart from a meager two or three people, nobody really cared for his last shot as a class martyrdom. Damn. I was greatly pissed off, I wanted to smack him in the head, but I only figured it'll make me more look like the atrocious girlfriend I am. I alternately ignored him, snapped at him... I could've said "Get lost"... well, in a couple of hours those words would be granted anyway.

It's always too late for regrets and apologies, and I made neither. I gave him no gift, not even a letter. Ha, let's see if he could remember me that way. When the moment came for him to leave did I only realize that it was the last time I'd see him for a long time. No more Matt... for a while. (leaving out "for a while" would sound like I'm already preparing his coffin). It was probably the first time I'd genuinely feel mixed emotions. When I was mad at him, I felt happy that he'll give me space at last. Dammit, he couldn't even give me a cool-off if I asked for it!... Angry, because... look up, I already mentioned it... Underneath it all I was sad and miserable because I'll be left alone once more (if you think I'll be craving for other people's company, dream on. This girl's designed for one person alone. Phonies, approach at your own risk). It will be hard to get back to my usual lone wolf habit... I have a loooong way to go, man.

Now that my fiance's --wipe that leer off your face-- gone for the meantime, it's time for me to get back to my other love. My craft. Writing. Blogging. Literature. Craziness. While our relationship was getting better, I was happy. While I was happy, my thinking was greatly hampered. I didn't mind. His presence justified it somehow. But now... well, what else am I supposed to do? Ask myself out on a date? Whatever.

The Chimaera's back in business!

Crawling. Screaming. Bleeding.

There are some things in this world that I just can't explain. For example, there are my frequent depression swings and end-of-my-world case scenarios. Third year has merely begun and yet I am already down on my knees begging release. I'm not even halfway past the challenge. What happened to me over the summer?

Images of dying didn't come to me as strongly as before. I used to surmise that those who succumb to suicide are chickens and idiots. Now, I know that in their state, suicide is the only action that makes sense. That's what sucks about being human: you just have to go on living. You don't ask questions about its existence because there are times when the small joys it gives you erases all doubts.

~*~
Wednesday night: I was sitting on the bed, five paracetamol tablets on my hand. Surprisingly, I wasn't crying. My mind was going on a rampage but I couldn't let it out. I could see myself tightly bound in a straitjacket. I was flailing... screaming... My failures earlier were eating me. I couldn't bear to talk to anyone, not even my friends, especially not to him. My depression has turned into a vicious cycle. I want to stay strong for the sake of sacrifice for a happy ending, but I can't... Despite their comforts are nothing compared to my feeling of worthlessness and guilt. I'm just using them. I'm too selfish to befriend anybody, let alone love them... I can't ask help forever. I have to learn to rely on myself. How am I supposed to know that they are mere hypocrites who hide their malice behind their smiles? It's impossible. I'm all alone...

Why I'm still here and counting my miseries instead of sheep is a magnanimous miracle. I didn't swallow the tablets. It took me forever to think about doing so, and another forever for thinking about my indecision. The door suddenly opened. It was my aunt. Noticing the guilty look on my face immediately, she asked what was I doing sitting on the bed with the lights and the electric fan turned off. I managed to slip the tablets beneath my pillow. I made a lame excuse about catching a nap, all the while chanting Get out of here you f***ing meddler at the back of my head. She didn't look convinced enough but I was thankful when she left.

Sleep is the best remedy for my despair. It's not a good habit at all, letting my pain pass only to have it back the next day threefold, but I need the momentary relief. I didn't get anything done. Why should I when I would not concentrate anyway?

I performed miserably in school the next morning. I know I should get over it. Think of the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel if there is such, think of all the absurd lies they construct to mock me. Yeah, I guess I'll just have to believe them to continue fooling myself...

Ivan

Ivan is a guy who defied everything I considered normal in this world. He befriended a witch, tried to tame one (read: the witch is a control freak) and would almost get torn apart by the creature had it not been for his invulnerability. Ok, ok, so it borders to insensitivity sometimes.

He was hailed unanimously by peers and elders alike as the future mad scientist of our batch, with the emphasis on "mad". However, describing him as plain crazy would be wrong, because it is impossible to describe him in a sentence, let alone a word. There are times when contradicting sides of him would show. However, being the promising psychologist that I am, all I can say is he is a high-IQ low-EQ individual. My parents once described me as that when I become too clueless about my surroundings. Finally, an accurate analysis of their own daughter...

When I was first introduced to Ivan, the warning bells at the back of my head clanged noisily. Uh-oh, if he's in league with an obnoxious demon as Baron Lollipop, I'm getting out of here. His Highness has very lived up to his reputation as the King of Intrigue by circulating rumors in our previous section in the form of blind items. Anyway, when I got to know Ivan later, a more mind-boggling question bothered me. How in the world did he tolerate the Baron since preschool?! Parallel brain frequencies answered this, as I am to find out in our relationship later.

He proved to be more than just a juvenile nutcase when he became my friend. And through him, Baron Lollipop became my ally too. Imagine the mortification. He shared a couple of nasty class humiliations and interesting conversations with me, including an argument about the root crop associated with Mojacko. He insisted that it was kamote, while I on the other side convinced every person to say it was the potato. The debate continues on to this day.

What drew me to him was his apparent knowledge of anything under the sun. Think of my thrill when I discovered that he's a CSI follower too. Crime and mysteries interested him the same way as I did and it was a good thing to finally have someone that can relate to me. He has a mini-collection of Agatha Christie books I am planning to steal someday for my private library. His brain capacities allowed him the production of ideas I swear I've read in a book. To paraphrase Dr. Watson, he would have made a great criminal with his genius had he been on the other side. Hmm, I smell red herrings for dinner.

It wasn't long before we connected instantly. I mean, how often would I find a smart guy whose mentality could reel me in? The paranoia kicked in with this question. My dream guys in fiction were those who lose the screws in their head, while staying remarkably logical. Hence, I constructed the defunct Bishounen Asylum with my cousin. Among my patients were sorcerers and magicians. Ivan's character in Ragnarok is a mage. If the universe is sending me a series of signs, can I get second transmissions?

It's inevitable once you've fallen for someone; you begin seeing him anywhere. The pain is awful. Whenever I would chance to glance at their side, I would catch him looking at me. Or was I simply imagining such? I started wondering if he really liked me because of his frequent texting. Not a good thought: affections used to be a bunch of illusions for me. To curb the doubt, he confessed. The subject? Reasons why you and I can tolerate each other.

~*~
TO BE CONTINUED...

I have to go now. As I have said, my Ivan will take forever to be described and I'm running out of time in front of the PC. I'll come back later to share more of his curiosities after the Affair of the Corpse Bride. /no1

It's All in My Head

I barely have the will to trust myself. People are supposed to have it, right? It's what keeps them going on, what keeps them sane, happy... Not me. I've begun thinking that something is seriously wrong with me. It's not the ordinary pretense of being a wacko, dipsomaniac or drug-dependent... I must be losing it.

Why can't I be like the rest who can relate to the most common matters? Subjects, for instance, aren't they supposed to be the lifeblood of a student's life? It's not fair. I strive to make my self competitive enough to stay afloat, but the ones who prioritize the shallowest things such as their love life tend to do better than me. I am not trying hard enough. They can understand Math the way I never did. I pride myself in sticking up for logic. Ironically, I don't think I didn't have any from the start. All I have is a cllection of illusions I acquired through my influences.

How can they take failure with a smile? Our lives at fifteen revolve around academics and nothing else. Yet, they digress. They dilly-dally from the path to their future. They don't care. They don't look forward to the consequences. All they think about is finding a crush, going to the mall, patching it up with the who-knows-whom they fought with... Or maybe it's just me who's assuming perfection.

A little trauma involving Mathematics stirred all my miseries to life. Math? I cried over it? Will you consider it a laughing matter now that you know that I once contemplated suicide because of fear of failure in it? Astoundingly, I never lost hope to the lowest point enough to do it. I may not love all the people around me, but I do respect their wishes to see me suffer all the more. My masochistic tendencies bestowed me the endurance to wallow in anguish as long as it takes. Forget about whining to everyone you know within a one mile-radius, I prefer the pain alone. I am selfish, yes. When my depression strikes, I automatically hate any happy person I see. I disregard their help and attention. I don't need a hypocrite's charity.

I'm not a person to be pitied upon! I hate showing my weaknesses. People show theirs anyway, expecting to gain sympathy for their woes. I say corporal punishment be implemented as penalty for this. I have always fancied myself as a tough girl, showing her vulnerability but actually laying a trap for the morons who dare approach her. Aww, somebody's hurt? You didn't see this coming, did you? Excuse me, I'm not a saint.

Well, you're more idiotic than I have assumed. Humans, they're such a bunch of weaklings if not freak shows.

~*~
I want to sleep but I can't. I don't think that a complete one (compared to what?) would even pacify my underlying rage. Funny thing, rage. My emotional range is very limited, and rage happened to belong to it apart from guilt, boredom, deviousness and occasional hysteria.

I want to get out of here. Run away to a far place all by myself... just running endlessly till I tire myself out. It's better than sitting still. The thoughts will rush back to me steadily. At least, when I exert physical effort, my mind will work on it instead. Hmm, smiting Vadons dead with lightning are included here, I hope...

When Impressions Turn to Engravings

Still reeling from my exhausting summer which had nothing to do whatsoever with the word "vacation", I pack my bags and sally back to the school life. No, not sally. It was more of like crashing than anything. First of all, I came to school unprepared, with only my journal in Discipline (for those of you who do not know, Discipline is my spiritual sister, now my Jansport bag) along with a couple of books. Teachers were asking for all sorts of papers left and right until my head swam in all the confusion. To make things ten times worse, my cramming spirit kicked in as always and I hurried to NBS immediately to purchase my school requirements/arsenal for the year.

For the first few days, in between classes, I was floating uncertainly between sleepiness and irritation. Remind me not to stress myself next time, haha.

Of course, when I don't start the day right, trust me to mess up the "empath" closest to me too. Hence, Ivan the Great is reduced into my emotional punching bag again. Fortunately, a little kick to my neurons made me recover from the First Day Shock quickly and I managed to patch things up with a little sugar high.

Anyway, life without Marconi is catching up with me. My new section is not that bad considering that I have definite allies and the presence of a vitriolic creep like Milfeuille seems nonexistent for the meantime. However, I am a little dissed at the incarnation of, ta-dah! Hermione Granger! Yes, she can be found made of flesh and bones in III-Linnaeus!

Ahh, maybe it’s too early to compare myself to her yet (read: crush my ego… crush my ego…). Her guts to be a leading candidate in Ms. Recitation 2006 have no absolute effect on me since I hate public speaking anyway. As long as she stays on her turf as Ms. Recitation and not Ms. Irony, I assure you a zero body count this year.

But then, first impressions can be proven wrong.

~*~

Speaking of impressions, I was dining in KFC last Friday with the King and Queen of Herzoslovakia’s royal entourage. Suddenly, Helena got this strange look on her face that I’ve seen before whenever she would happen to glance at Ivan in his murderous mood. She started whispering to us about a suspicious-looking individual I saw when we arrived at the area. Cleve, obviously alarmed at her plausible warnings passed the message on to Mr. Bean and then to us.

The four of them (Ivan was sitting beside me and we had our backs to the aforementioned object of suspicion) discussed the matter for a while. The whole time I merely observed them amusedly. It wasn’t everyday you come across an alleged druggie. They were murmuring fearfully how the person (it’s unclear to me to this day whether that person was a man or woman) interrogated every freshmen he/she could come across and how his/her lips were blackened. I used Ivan’s shiny new cell phone as mirror. I swear I could see that freak show staring back at me!

The itch to spread the intrigue safely inflamed when our Science teachers arrived. Helena and the others told about it to His Highness and the others, then the teachers present. We agreed upon leaving KFC in a group to ensure security.

What the hell, I had been right to stay nonchalant about the thing all along. When we stood up to leave, we saw a freshmen approach his/her table with a tray of orders. Toodle-oo, the druggie has a ward after all! Nyahaha…

And to think Ma’am Bautista even alerted the KFC staff about him/her upon their presumptions. Note to self: Do not judge a book by its cover, especially when you’re in the company of paranoid friends.

***

Hey, does anyone here know "The Scientist" by Coldplay? Nada, the song just got me thinking... How... appropriate. Why are you looking at me?