I want to go back to school. Right here I'm bored to wits, and I can feel some pair of claws - hooves, even - scratch through me. It's sore, trust me. I gotta have your trust on that one.
And besides, school's the only place where I can prove myself. For some reason, most of the things I get my hands on becomes magical - becomes some inspired piece of me that makes people go wow. It becomes something I'm proud of. It becomes something I'd probably cherish for most of my life, if anything's even left of it. For a third of my day I'll get all of my accolades along with everything else I dread to get, but nevertheless do.
The people back there, they're the most supportive. None at home - nobody cares, to be honest - and only here do I feel the freedom I've actually long wanted to have. For once, I control at least part of my life. Failing a class becomes my decision, and mine alone. Falling in love becomes mine. Making sure I get back home becomes mine. And even though I have stumbled many times, I know the people back there would surely accept me, nevertheless. Surely, a far cry from what I thought of them before - monsters who eat the clueless all day.
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"To get over rejection, you have to realize that rejection is really a myth. It doesn't really exist. It is simply a concept that you hold in your head."
When my father came home from Singapore a week ago, he gave me one of those self-help books authored by Jack Canfield
. I've been reading it for a week and I'm four-fifths of the way through, partially hitting myself in the head for not knowing these things before. The morning before he arrived, I was actually in between going back to the Hit FM
studios and going home - and so was Ella
, because we practically didn't know whether the results are actually released or not. We got no answers, and despite the advice that we go these anyway, I was asked to stay home instead.
I forgot about it for a week. I already told Jem that I didn't get in, despite my surprise optimism about the bid. I simply spent my time dozing off and being a bum, reading the book I was given, making sure I take my medication and sleep before midnight strikes. I was okay - I never thought about the fact that I didn't make it eighty percent of the time, because I somehow hold dear the belief that I just got things wrongly, or I'm waiting for a negative confirmation that'll leave me comforted, at the least.
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The lack of emotional overhauls during the summer makes my fingers pointless. There's nobody to point, and there's no sense in what I'm typing right now. Maybe you could say I've been powered, hopelessly, by plot twists left and right for the past few days, and true enough, maybe you're right about the exaggeration part.
The temperature's been helplessly high these past few days. Already we've recorded deaths off heatstrokes, and sooner than we know we're bound to surpass forty degrees. Another exaggeration, I know, but it's gone to thirty-nine degrees where Jaja is, so I guess it makes sense when the water bills run high and the pools are full. But I never liked swimming, despite the lessons, and only because I know I'm foolish enough to just waddle along and look like a kid. So, a bored me just sits in front of the PC in the afternoon and lies down on a warm bed at night, listening to the radio and self-destructing in the process.
It hits me that school starts in a little over three weeks, and I'm actually not thinking of anything else. I'm not worrying either, save for a lack of equipment still, and a bigger lack of survival skills. I've tossed aside enjoy
as a dictionary term and decided to go uselessly pessimistic, eventually realizing that taking videos is much more fun than taking photos, even if I'm running on dial-up and all and I can't possibly show off anything. (And if the number of adverbs are to come by, I'm just really incoherent lately.)
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"And tomorrow I'm wearing something a bit like Daria
's outfit. So yeah, I'll watch you take it back. Just be there tomorrow, okay?"
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For the past week I've been following the Virginia Tech shootings
. Disturbing, yes. It could happen here, especially considering that security guards merely pass through our big bags. Then again, however bad I feel for the apparent reasons Cho Seung-Hui took thirty-two lives
(before deciding that he's actually alone and killed himself to be with the people he thinks are aginst him), and however bad I felt when his photos were shown on the television, it wouldn't happen here. Not most of the time, at least.
His me-against-the-world view is more radical than mine. Sure, I still think in patches
that the world is against me - to some extent it was worse in high school, to the point that my first year adviser in SBCA thought I could pull off a Columbine and kill high schoolers - but then again I was, well, intercepted. (Just right now the person beside me got irritated by my keyboard pounding. Can't blame everyone if I watch the news while typing stuff.) But why this thought, now? Nothing really. I just got overwhelmed, or maybe because I actually miss watching foreign news programs and I've never had a way to catch up.
We ended this term - and this school year - with people against people because of missing filters, and then we all realize that despite my mother's warning that we're going to kill each other in college - my exaggeration - it isn't much of the case. Well, again you'll be treated to my usual crap of I-met-new-friends plus I-made-closer-connections-out-of-old-ones, essentially because this entry is as forced as it can be, because I've been sleeping in the afternoons again...
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Well, isn't that swell?
After submitted portfolios and weird photos with Karla
, and a bit more lingering than expected, I finally took off and went to the Hit FM
was in tow, although we'd only meet later in the day, and she was there first even - I actually called her up at the moment she was in the comfort room.
Auditions went quite smoothly. Surprisingly, it was Ella who was nervous, although of course I was the least confident. In between three other people - two girls from Assumption
and one guy from UST
, not to mention Ella's previous experience as a student DJ for the defunct Campus Radio - I was worried about my short tongue, my fast speech, and the fact that what we had, as Neil would eventually explain, were two AOBs (or announcements on board) because the actual audition script went missing until he found a copy himself. Robi
needn't photocopy my scripts, after all.
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Like all the other days as of late, today's been quite uneventful. Sure, I'm still in class, worrying about probability distributions, photo essays and plot development. Everybody else, on the other hand, are more than willing to fall asleep instead and make fun of poor people like me. Well, we're merely a minority, after all, but maybe me reading only the littlest bit
of my statistics notes got me started when I woke up at a quarter before six today. I'll be honest, I was worrying more about my calculator last night.
Luckily, though, Jepoy didn't forget to bring my calculator - it's been with him for a week because I forgot to get it back during our last quiz, instead busy thinking about how many more photos I have to develop. From the dark room, and before that in the car, I was dead worried about whether he actually forgot to bring it again. Karla
was actually close to volunteering her calculator for temporary services come 08.00 tomorrow, but a phone call mentioned otherwise. Thankfully, I must say. I thought I'd never understand my mathematics in such a crucial time.
Edsel, though, faced a different problem - actually understanding the notes, I think. I didn't have a copy of any of the handouts Miss Franco gave - all but one, because by then I realized my lapse in judgment - and he was going around looking for the handouts that everybody else left behind, because they've all decided to focus on their photographs. I think I almost sensed desparation... but not really. I'm just exaggerating, that's all.
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Today I am still running on batteries. After staying up for twenty-one straight hours, sleeping for the next four and realizing I'm still as awake as someone who's had espresso shot through his arm, I realize (again) that somehow, I've adapted. And yes, I was annoyed to find out that in the middle of my trip to school Jepoy forgot my calculator, which meant my school trip was, to say the least, useless. Or maybe I have him to thank because I somehow managed to discover an error in the code that I was working on early this morning for our final project
in print production class
Nothing much really happened. I ended up with Piyar
first, conscious of the fact that I've got nothing to do, and eventually realizing I'm all too willing to help because of that. She's still got this research question with Jason
that they (still) have to improve on, at least according to Miss Diaz. Like, why the hell should we care about blind guitarists? Of course, me being half-blind didn't help a bit, because even if I tried my best to make some sense out of "intrinsic motivations", I realize I'm not in their position to at least get a grasp of what they're up to. Different worlds, indeed.
School was open, at least officially, until midday. Tomorrow people will really
start their exodus to the provinces for Holy Week, although I might spend it without any Internet access, yet again. In that case, the campus was barely empty, but nevertheless people were gone - I didn't have any class today, which makes it more irritating. And I wanted to see some people. Obviously it didn't happen.
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"Gah," I typed in. "I just realized I'll miss the LA Core without you. Back to work then!"
It was a merely random thought, probably powered by shifting ground that meant nothing but a little aftershock. I just let it pass - besides, today wasn't that eventful. Something's gotta happen.
"I'll miss everything about the LA Core too," Nadia typed in. "Hope it will be as productive and efficient! Or better."
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Going back to more important matters, hell week is coming. But why am I here making that announcement when I should be doing more important things?
For starters, I'm still in the middle of talking to people for my final article for our print production
project. Since I can't get online at home for three days now, I decided to check up on everything this afternoon at some Internet café, but when I got home, apparently, the person I was supposed to talk to just left. I have my aunt, yes, and I'm wondering whether Ella
is also registered - I'm not that righteous after all, but they're still from Bacoor, so that counts - but still, I felt like following my self-set Monday night deadline, just as I worry about what Burton intends to do. If only getting Lizette
's phone number helps, but Rosario - the town where she lives - is apparently thirty minutes away, although when we went there for a vacation it took us two hours to arrive. And Rosario is different from Bacoor.
At least I got things ready, at least partly. Five out of eight enlargements for my portfolio, and two out of ten for my photo essay (which looks sooo good, and for some reason I've got to give credit to Charmaine
for, err, donating a filter), and I've got two weeks - well, almost - to work on the remainder. The other two photos are colored, so that's nothing to worry about. Maybe there's double-sided tape, and enlarger reservations, and missing filters, and missing photos (as was the case with Karla
), and then there's mood swings from inhaling a lot of fumes. I'm getting used to the dark, and to the extra contacts, considering my efforts to uncover crimes committed, which makes me a backstaber, somehow.
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