a brilliant mind

Here's a thought that never occurred to me in high school: I might be shallow. Back in my high school years, I was ambitious and driven and so bloodthirsty for control that I was treated with too much politeness by my classmates and even my close friends. When I got into college, I developed an attitude that can only be described by the word 'bondying-bondying'. I still treat my classes with the 'eager student approach', but I've noticed that I've lost the fire that used to drive me to reach out and keep busy. Now I'm contented with just sleeping in my cold room while the rest of the dorm is out there watching PBA Finals or watching DVD's when there's a seminar on this-and-that a couple hundred meters away. I hate it! What's happening to me?! I'm in the University of the Philippines for crying out loud, and I'm only wasting my God-given potential on the Internet! Grrr. It's just that my first year of college is done. And yes, my second sem grades are so-so as always. No failures, but nooooooh. Really depressing.

Speaking of ending semesters, Kalayaan hosted its annual Formal Dinner last Sunday. Really fun. Because I was reacquainted with the digicam recently, I brought it along and snapped pictures of almost everyone I knew. And yes, I wiped out two memory cards and even my fully-charged Li-ion battery pack, but it was worth it. A picture paints a thousand words. Besides, the atmosphere that night caused lots of strange emotions that I can't sufficiently describe with words. The moon, slow dancing and cocktail dresses always prove to be a nostalgia-prone combination.

Toodles! Poof.

The Hungry Glutton

Earlier today, I wandered into a coffee shop in Katipunan, empty-handed except for the O.Henry book Trisha lent me last night. I often dreamed of this moment when I was younger, me looking every bit like the pseudo-intellectual I hoped to be. When the drama was taking place in real time, however, I found myself lost. What was I doing in this trendy, expensive-looking place? I really should be traipsing back into my corner of the world, where girls converse with cats and boys spend their nights glued to PBA.

But I had a meeting to attend, for siomai's sake! To think, I was the one who thought of meeting at this place... And so I strolled to the counter, where I had to look at something other than the barista's dimples, and ordered a Tall Latte, considering it was worth exactly a hundred pesos. And then the wait. Thank God for O.Henry.

Moments after I had drained my cup of its contents, my groupmates arrived, looking windblown and hungry, but uncannily comfortable with the venue. And after they had ordered their coffee and cake and we had found a socket for the laptop, we started the meeting. Even with companions, I felt jittery. I felt like a lollipop in a jar full of coffee beans.

Fast forward to two hours later. I was sitting in one of the food shops in UP, concentrating on my mushroom-meat combo and not bothered by the fact that I was alone. Strangely, I felt at peace. I knew this was where I ought to be. This is what I should be doing. Yes, eating alone in a food shop that could pass for a typical photocopy place. And I didn't feel restless at all.

But I know I'll be back in that coffee shop again. Even if it kills me.

P.S. Does anyone know what an RSS Feed is? :( How on Earth do I install it in my blog?

Pearly Shells

Brought to you in part by a popular, almost-generic brand of toothpaste whose shell-cracking advertisement never fails to amaze me

This may sound slightly nauseating but I can’t think properly if I haven’t brushed my teeth. Seriously. Each time I force my brain to function directly after meals or after a healthy dose of Garlic Bread Pan, I’m consumed by a sudden urge to grab my toothbrush and head to the bathroom. Of course, that’s a good thing; it’s neat to be hygienic (Ha!). I just find it strange that noise and other moving objects don’t distract me from my work, but not being able to brush my teeth does. Hmpf.

Anyway, all this teeth talk roots from our Kas1 class earlier this afternoon. Miss dela Rosa is discussing the Commonwealth now, and in her lesson she mentioned something about Americans thinking the Filipinos in the 30’s were dirty because they didn’t know how to brush their teeth. (I can’t remember well if it was that or if they knew how to but just didn’t like doing it.) According to my professor, along with the infamous “A is for apple, B is for Bollocks” lectures, our ancestors also got sufficient instruction on the proper way of brushing teeth. And yes, this is mentioned in history books. Nyeah.

Well, that’s all for now. Am feeling a wee bit light headed thanks to my less than three hours of sleep earlier this morning. Will dash now. Lots to do.

Toodles! Poof.

writing lines

Today is a red shirt day but I'm wearing black.

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Everybody is in Ayala but I'm in an Internet cafe.

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They want GMA to resign but I can't even decide if I'll be taking summer classes or not.

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They're changing history but I'm editing my Friendster profile.

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They say we're apathetic but I say think again.

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We really want to be there, it just happens that we're not.

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And I don't know why I'm not.

typecast

Last night, I was hunched over my Math homework when I realized there was no way I could solve it when my mind was flying somewhere over the Amazon. So I took out my laptop and tried to come up with a story, whatever story, because I always try to write a new one every week. Because nothing came into my head, I ended up writing a poem about this person who was doing his/her algebra homework. And it seemed things would end that way.

Then I was struck by a brilliant, surreal idea and I began to flip through the font types in Microsoft Word, coming up with names for fictional people. Eventually, I came up with a story starring characters with names like Verdana Trebuchet, Serif Marlett, Pristina Corsiva and Perpetua Rockwell. Pretty funny.

I'm still trying to come up with a decent plot. Should be fun :D

A Brief Definition

he·ro [heer-oh]

1.a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.

2.a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal: He was a local hero when he saved the drowning child.

This came up thanks to a certain Mr Raymond G Falgui (otherwise known as Mike) who kept asking his students what they thought of heroism. It so happened that I was one of those in his class, one of those constantly bombarded by questions such as this, perspectival questions, questions that don't have concrete answers. Though I knew I wouldn't get more points for graded recitation, I gave Sir a piece of my mind anyway. And that's what I'm about to offer you, too.

As I told Sir and everybody else who happened to be listening to me, I think heroism isn't about how much money one shelves out to help others. Most people living in the 21st century probably think modern heroes are supposed to manifest heroism through this because the need for men like Hector and Rizal has disappeared ages ago. Personally, I think philantrophy should not be confused with heroism. Some people give a lot to society because they're compassionate and kind and naturally generous.

Still, there are others who go beyond just giving. These people sacrifice. These are individuals who do things they wouldn't do under normal circumstances for the sake of others. And the funny thing is these people aren't extinct at all. They're everywhere. OFW's (especially Domestic Helpers), breadwinners, social workers, etc. What I hate about their being heroes is that they keep thankless jobs. They have become anonymous. But don't they deserve glory? Even a simple show of gratitude will do!

Every day, an average person makes contact with thousands of other humans. Imagine how it would be like if one affected each person he met in a positive way. Then, we would be able to change the world by chaging the way we are.

One need not die to save a life.

SOURCE: Dictionary.com

A Sunshiny Night

February 8, 2008

4:47 pm

Eating oatmeal

Beloved Nonexistent Reader,

As of the moment, I am crying buckets of tears, and it’s not because my pseudo-boyfriend has left me or because I only fully comprehended the impact of Heath Ledger’s death to my life minutes ago. No, I’m crying because I’m sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. I feel like the poor white mouse we drowned in homemade organic pesticide back in third year. And oh, miserable rodent, I am so sorry for having done that to you. Now I understand.

But sad tales of unfortunate mice aside, last night the girls and I threw a semi-grand debut for our dear friend Sunshine! Similar to the traditional Filipino concept of a girl’s coming-of-age party, Sunshine danced with eighteen gentlemen and listened to the conjured-out-of-thin-air speeches of eighteen of her dearest girl friends. Unlike the traditional debut, however, we served the guests pizza and relied on orange juice for The Toast. Pretty resourceful, methinks.

It truly was a smashing night for all of us present in that celebration but I only hope Sunshine thought it was one of the best nights of her life. It was her night after all. When I thought about it though, the celebration could be seen two ways: from the celebrator’s point of view and from the party organizers’ point of view. Although I’m not very sure what Sunshine thought of last night, I’m quite clear about my purpose for helping set up that party. I only wanted her to have one last night of childhood, a night to remember everything that she was and anticipate everything that she can be. Traditional mindset, true, but it’s only traditional because most people find it sensible.

And now I must take flight because my colds are making it difficult for me to think straight. But I really, really would like to congratulate myself for attending all my classes today – perfect attendance still up and running!

Toodles! Poof…

sandybeaple