it's the most wonderful time of the year...

i know people think otherwise, but really, i'm a lot nicer than i appear to be. honestly, i don't go out of my way just to be mean to somebody.

not being ms. universe material myself, i do hesitate before thinking or saying anything derogatory about others. but when you're wondering about the relationship you're supposed to be in, and you suddenly find yourself sharing an elevator with an extremely-gross looking girl, who apparently, despite her obvious problems with hygiene, was able to find somebody willing enough to give her all those hickey marks she's proudly displaying on her neck, AND then hear about nympho cows getting adored and treated like royalty by boys who are smitten with them, well, you just break down and think of the unfairness of it all.

it's either i'm doing something very, very wrong or love is truly blind. and with a not-so-keen sense of smell, at that.

...

the only holiday i don't mind celebrating is halloween.

i stopped loving christmas a long time ago. you're expected to be full of good cheer, thankfulness, love, and the spirit of christmas, but really, all you see is rampant commercialism, greed, and, well, people PRETENDING to be full of good cheer, thankfulness, love and the spirit of christmas. not that you blame them or anything. truth be told, you're as bad as everybody else. but all that guilt and disappointment kills it for me.

birthdays are no better. it's not that i mind getting older, but every year just reminds me of how little i've accomplished, and of how i can't seem to turn my life around and make it into what i want it to be. i'm dreading this coming one more than ever, if only because i've learned of another reason to hate the date i was brought into this world. if i could change birthdates, believe me, i would've done it.

but halloween, ah, halloween's special.

you have little kids looking all cute in their costumes, focused on getting all the candy they want. they're not expected to behave, they're not expected to pray, they're not expected to sit and keep their new suits and outfits immaculate. all they have to do is have fun and amass all the treats they could get. they don't even have to kiss godmothers and godfathers for them. the whole ideology is refreshingly honest - you just go and try to get what you want. lots of it. no guilt, no hang-ups. exactly how people go on about doing their business nowadays.

and if they eat too much candy and suffer from toothaches and tummyaches afterwards, well, that's a lesson on gluttony for them. same thing with parents who have to deal with their children's sugar-induced hyperactivity. they learn one of the basic tenets of parenting 101: too much leniency leads to kids jumping up and down, shrieking their heads off, not caring what parents think.

the whole concept of trick-or-treating has always fascinated me. you knock on a door and ask for something. you sometimes get the gold standard, which could be full-sized chocolate bars or goody bags filled with quality chocolate (i insist on giving out the latter, it's the least i could do for my favorite holiday.), or really nasty dollar-store candy, or "healthy" stuff like apples or toothbrushes, or nothing. everything's unpredictable, like a kiddie version of russian roulette.

if you get candies, you have to be careful before popping one in your mouth. you have to check for open wrappers, or anything that might trigger allergies (the number of kids who are allergic to dairy and nuts here is overwhelmingly huge.), or anything suspicious (i'm afraid kids consider toothbrushes "suspicious"). after all, just because you're given something doesn't mean that it's always good and right for you.

and if you get nothing, you have the option of egging or TP'ing that house. there could be a thousand reasons why that house didn't give out candy - maybe you were late and they've run out, or they're dirt-broke and couldn't give out anything, or nobody's in the house since they're all at the hospital watching over their grandmother, or they're just not into the whole concept of giving out treats to kids they don't know. the thing is, it really doesn't matter what their reason is, they would get 'tricked' if you choose to do so. sometimes, somebody's fate does not depend on what he deserves or not. sometimes, circumstances and the people around him decide it for him.

i love halloween because it's a microcosmic study of life. no other holiday is as unabashed in showing how people live their lives now. i understand the irony of that statement when it's also the day people go around hiding themselves beneath costumes and masks, pretending to be zombies, witches, and fairy godmothers. but it's a sad truth that people sometimes have to hide bits of themselves to let their humanity come through. plus, all of us wear masks everyday, anyway. we just try to forget we do.

...

if i sound more moronic than usual, forgive me. the past few months have been fraught with frustrations, questions, and disappointment, and i'm too exhausted to even think.

i honestly don't know how long i can keep this up. and it's not even winter yet.

i need love and sleep. in no particular order.

because i'm no lualhati bautista.

i was trying to organize my handouts and notes for an open-book test when i realized that i didn't have enough tabs. something which normally would've just elicited a shrug and an "oh, well.." from me, but somehow i knew that no amount of testing skills could help me navigate my way through a 4-inch stack of mostly unread handouts without the aid of tabs. and of course, i made this earth-shattering discovery at 3 a.m. of the testing day itself.

after i've cursed myself as i deemed appropriate and asked my sisters if they had some (they didn't. and for pete's sake, why couldn't i have done this earlier?!? didn't i know what time it was? they were SLEEPING, ok? OK?!), i scrounged around the house for something i could use. in true macgyver fashion, i decided those little stickers you get in Lucky and loulou magazines, the ones you're supposed to use to bookmark those pages with the shoes, clothes, current lust object the magazine and ad people hope you'd want to buy, will have to do.

so later that morning, i wrote the exam with a binder that sported tabs, which WERE color-coordinated, to my credit, but nonetheless proudly declared: "i love it", "i need it", "i want it", and "girl, you gotta have it".

and i wonder why people don't take me seriously.

...

right now, the most beloved thing in my bedroom is:

when i got it (well, them, actually. there are two volumes), i thought i was set for life. ok, maybe not. but set for the next five years, at least.

but then i made the mistake of dropping by the bookshop the other day (oh, indigo, why do you have to be so temptingly near?) and saw this.

I WANT (repeat ten million times).

i'm now trying to be extra-good so i could justify buying myself another present. so that means no more unhappy and bad thoughts, no more bugging people at 3 in the morning for tabs, no more sarcastic remarks, no more making fun of people who confuse sweet with creepy-obsessive.

if you don't hear from me for a couple of days, it's because i'm trying to earn my book. that, or i failed miserably in doing so and have locked myself up with nothing but paulo coelho books to read and breadcrumbs to eat as punishment.

exams, papers, the boyfriend, and what looks like the beginning of a flu...

if it's always been your secret dream to witness a girl undergo a complete physical, emotional, and mental breakdown, grab yourself a seat and maybe some popcorn while you're at it.

just spare me the applause afterwards.

i should probably pay more attention to links.

i serendipitously found her blog while searching for, of all things, a Buffy and Angel fanpage one sleepless night. about a month ago, i found out that she's actually friends with her, whose links also include one to her journal, one that i've been reading for some time now.

next thing you know, i'll just find out that online crush is really my long-lost son, and that my favorite LJ person (who i think actually knows her in real life, too) was that girl who used to bully me and steal my cookies and fruit juice in kindergarten (i'm kidding, i'm kidding. and if anything, my five-year-old self probably would've raised a hell of a ruckus if somebody actually tried to do that).

but seriously, i think it's nothing short of amazing. it's like friendster or myspace or whatever newfandangled thing they've come up with to track everybody else nowadays. only nicer, because you have blogs and journals to read and none of those pesky invites from people who used to seethe at the very sight of you, but who seem to have miraculously forgotten that when they come begging you for testimonials.

incidentally, if you've found your way here because of this lovely post, i feel obligated to tell you that rosa, even though she tries her best to deny it, is just really one of those excessively kind and wonderful people who sometimes become too generous with compliments. so please don't blame her if you come here expecting "wicked wit" and finding out that i'm just really, well, wicked.

i also feel obligated to add (just in case the boy stumbles upon this one day) that even though i gush about online crushes who remind me of holden caulfield, and adam brody and scott speedman look-alikes, i really am faithful to a fault. boringly so.

it's called the mutual admiration society.

it all started with pink 5.

and then punky brewster.

from then on, the list just kept on getting longer: she-ra, jo march, my second yr. HS biology teacher, catwoman, rodel, sheila, armie, anton, buffy, angash, carrie, ate celeste...

some of them did it in their sweet, quiet way, some went on about it with all their guns a-blazing. but these are the girls, fictional or otherwise, who have fascinated me with either their superhero skills, strength, conviction, passion, drive, or that elusive sense of purpose that never fails to amaze the perennially dazed and confused me.

recently, my list grew by one.

my pink-loving cardriver of a friend, had somebody told me seven years ago that i'd like you this much, i would've smiled but secretly thought he/she/it (it could've been a tarot card, for all we know) was nuts.

but the past few months spent getting to know you more have been a blast (then again, anything's an improvement over that time i zoned out and silently chewed my chicken inasal, leaving you and our other lunch companion to do all the talking. ah, cringe-worthy moments, ALWAYS fun to revisit.).

thanks for the YM messages. they almost made me cry. in a good way.

you don't suppose it's because of today's date, do you?

you'd think people would know well enough to stay clear of you once they see tell-tale marks of how you've only been getting an hour's worth of sleep each night morning for a week now, because of midterms and whatnot. i don't know about you, but if i see a girl with uncombed hair, a perma-scowl, wan cheeks, and eyebags that could've held all of imelda's and tara reid's shoes, holding on to a venti latte as if her life depended on it, i would quietly back away, careful not to make any sudden movements.

see, some people don't have that much sense.

remember that girl who wouldn't shut up about her being in three, count 'em, THREE!!!! weddings last spring (never mind the fourth wedding, i wouldn't have been surprised if there had been a funeral afterwards. hers. death by the people whose ears she talked off and who decided nothing they ever did was worth that much torture.)?

i don't care if she's way up the corporate ladder, or if she makes thrice of what they pay me, or if she's working on getting all those suffixes attached to her name; she still doesn't have the right to come marching to me, and then try to make me feel bad about something she messed up in the first place. if she made an effort to actually use what's inside that big head of hers (assuming it's not all hot air), she wouldn't be in the shit she's in now.

as much as i appreciated the histrionics, which normally would've just amused me, i really didn't care much for how she talked down on me and how she looked at me like i'm responsible for all the cruel names i'm preeettty sure she was tortured with for most of her childhood and adolescent years.

and she had the nerve to look insulted because i stood up for myself? she should consider herself lucky. had i gotten an extra hour's sleep, i would've had the energy to give her even more than what she got from me today. just because i make an effort not to attract bad karma (a futile attempt, judging from recent events) doesn't mean that i can't give as good as i get.

she pissed me off so much that now, i'm not going to give her the friendly advice i've been meaning to share with her. that boyfriend of hers that she talks about when she's in her "ooh, let me give those girls something to envy..." mood? so not doing the job. because not even in my most desperate moments did i ever consider anybody who looked like roseanne's reject hot.

it's not even halloween yet and people are already making me a witch. can't i be a ballerina princess or a fairy something-something instead?

eta: i totally enjoyed butting heads with what's-her-face, and it was only after my boss told me how proud she was of me that i realized it could've easily gone the other way. and then i would've been blogging about how i lost my job...

eeep.

haloscan, i don't think i like you anymore.

ordinarily, ...

i wouldn't fret about getting a 14/15 on a paper. that's actually overly generous, considering how i do everything at the last yoctosecond and how i consistently, as teachers throughout the years had informed my thankfully indifferent mother, perform way below expectations.

but when i found out that the teaching assistant who gave me that grade is seth cohen come to life, that one point suddenly meant more to me than world peace and a lifetime's supply of godiva dark chocolate truffles combined.

i didn't know whether to be dismayed at the fact that he works from home and was only invited to give that one lecture (convincing him to marry me might be a tad more complicated if i have to track down where he lives and hide in the bushes so i could figure out what he likes to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner), or be glad that he wouldn't be there to distract me every day i go to that class. i have a hard enough time paying attention to anything that goes on in there, i certainly didn't need him to tease me with his dark curly hair, that little hint of a cleft chin, and those pretty eyes peeping from behind his glasses. i was charmed by how he talked - fast, eager, enthused, almost stammering, and with that far from smooth voice so similar to the one i've been avidly listening to every thursday night, 8 pm ET, for two point something seasons now. i was entranced by how his hands moved while he spoke, with those long, slender fingers whose grace seem so incongruous with that adorably awkward and self-conscious way he held that lanky, almost frail-looking body.

and as my eyes were busy drinking him in, my mind was in anguish about that point i missed. i was crushed when i realized that i'm unable to write papers that would meet his ideals of perfection. i wanted to be able to write words that would positively radiate, dance with vivacity, tug at his heartstrings, and seduce him into thinking that life would be meaningless without me a.k.a. student #######. i promised myself that the next time i'm asked to summarize epidimiological studies on deaths in long-term care facilities, i would come up with something that would blow him away.

just when i was imagining long winter nights with the two of us snuggling in front of the fireplace, he smiles and drops a bombshell.

he's married. happily so.

AND with a new baby. in fact, he's working from home because he's on some sort of parental leave.

me= 0, universe = 903,785,696,025,605 + 1

once again, i got punk'd by this cruel cruel cruel world.

...

i couldn't care less if i find myself in close proximity to a politician. to me, they're in the same category as britney's white trash of a husband.

but if we're talking about him, it's a completely different story.

coming from a land where politicians believe themselves as gods (and then use taxpayers' money to treat themselves as such), it's refreshing to see a public servant (unlike all the others in the world, this one seems to actually take that title seriously) take the subway to work, enjoy a hotdog in front of city hall without bodyguards circling him as if he's a national treasure, be warm and gracious to everybody who wishes to talk with him, and have enough sense of humor and broad-mindedness to pose for a gay magazine cover in honor of gay pride day.

i saw him again while waiting for my coffee the other morning, and i couldn't help but think that with those piercing blue eyes, he looks as good, if not better, than bill clinton. except that he seems to be oozing with integrity, so i'm not exactly worried that he has a roomful of monica lewinskys working on for him.

next time i see him outside city hall, i'll pay for his frank and fries. that's how much i like him.

i learn a lot of things in class.

for instance, today we talked about how technology and the changing socio-cultural environment are affecting how human beings interact with each other.

somewhere along the course of the discussion, teacher mentioned how people are becoming more and more withdrawn. one example given was how people who commute to and fro work everyday used to know everybody in the train or bus (public transportation here follows a schedule, so people tend to see the same faces all the time). she said, "nowadays, nobody even seems to be looking at each other, much less interact. everybody's preoccupied and shut off from the world with their newspapers and books and headphones..."

headphones = antisocial...

oh, so THAT'S why i've been lusting after that iPod nano lately.

...

here's something else i've learned today:

i don't do well in classes that deal with abstract theories and discussions.

i like the lecturer, i really do. she actually reminds me of one of my cousins - same little frame, same cute smile (with the retainers), same mannerisms, same expressions. she's also friendly and approachable. it's just that i sit there and listen to all this vague talk and i just don't get any of it. the ideas presented seem simple and straighforward enough ("health is... health" - doesn't get any more direct than that, does it?), but you just know, know deep in your bones, that the very first question you'll encounter in your test will be something along the lines of "what page of what study listed as one of the references in this journal's footnotes did this particular quote come from?".

i hate it.

come to think of it, i don't do well in classes that deal with logic, processes, problem-solving, statistics and cold, hard facts, either (that really is just a nicer way of saying i suck at math and science as well).

we can therefore conclude that i'm not really a schoolgirl kind of person.

except for the uniforms. i wish i could wear a uniform. for some odd reason, school uniforms had always turned me on when i was younger.

...

it's a day of life-changing realizations.

it's funny how i get berated over something i do and am, and then witness that person turn around and do the exact same thing.

labo.

...

one more thing i learned today: i'm a sucker.

"... i got to see The OC yesterday... i love summer... plus, summer does sort of look like you..."

i don't look anything at all like summer, that's a mammoth lie right there. still, just like that, i'm in love again.

i want to kill myself now.

it's thanksgiving.

and true to form, i've never felt more disillusioned and ungrateful my entire life.

oh, old habits die hard; whenever i feel myself getting disappointed with the world, i regress to my catholic schoolgirl self and make an effort to count all my blessings and thank the Lord for each one of them.

this endeavor is inevitably followed by a practice so familiar to all children who commit the unspeakable horror of leaving a morsel of food on their plates, and in doing so, betray all their hungry brothers and sisters in china and africa: i then make myself think of others who have less than i do, and vow to be grateful that i'm not one of them.

most people stop at that. i, of course, feel the need to go that extra mile. i then find myself terrified at the thought that God will find my initial ingratitude so displeasing to Him that He'd take away from me the little that i have. nightmarish pictures of accidents, freakish acts of nature, my family getting ill or dying, etc. then flood my mind, resulting in my kneeling down and praying profusely to express gratitude and ask for forgiveness.

so basically, each time i give thanks, it's because of guilt, fear, and the fact that other people are starving, being violated, and dying elsewhere.

that sure makes me exude warm, fuzzy feelings.

if you think i'm being a cold-hearted bitch now, you should see me on christmas and new year's day - i make old ebenezer seem like an effin' jolly old fella.

because i have nothing else to write about

and because i'm still feeling the aftermath of this month's PMS installment (ms. hyde is alive and well), i will be blabbing about friendster again.

apparently, she's been viewing my best friend's profile.

i know everybody stalks but really, to go as far as looking him up?

i have a feeling that i would've seen that cutesy-tootsy mug in my last 100 profile viewers.

somebody show this girl how to turn that anonymous feature on.

on a second thought, let's not. this is giving my self-esteem a much-needed boost. because there's nothing better than knowing that somebody's more pathetic than you are.

...

a blog and a journal (which i am shutting down but still...), and all i could write about is old news.

i know i'm not a writer by any stretch of the imagination, but i should be able to come up with something worth spending two seconds to read at least. right?

ang sad.

oh, friendster.

like everybody i know, i sometimes give in to PMS, alcohol-driven madness, depression and anger, and then proceed to check profiles of ex-crushes, ex-crushes' girlfriends, that girl i really hated in high school... well, you get the picture.

and again, like everybody i know, i was horrified when i first heard of friendster's new feature.

until i realized that i've deleted my account several weeks ago.

omg, the blessed, blessed relief.

but you know, i can't help but think that it would've been fun seeing who's been viewing my profile. because almost three months after i said goodbye to my account, i've only had fifteen people ask about it. so if only fifteen of my "friendsters" take the time to see what i've been up to, how on earth was i getting more than a hundred views per month?

just goes to show that even the most boring people have stalkers.

because change is good.

i hope.

from cupcakes to peanut butter and chocolate candies - it's amazing how i'm not four hundred pounds overweight.

let's see if this is going to be as fun as LJ...