my oodles barely have noodles. and it's a reality that's gnawing on my insides. (quick dictionary. 'oodles'- my twin brothers. 'noodles'-brains.) i dont know if i am being heartless or if i just put the truth so bluntly. you see, i went to ateneo high school this afternoon to get the results of the entrance test they took last september. i didn't have to wait long. the moment the lady at the office of admission and aid pulled out the response letters from a drawer in the safe, she said, 'PAREHO SILANG HINDI NAKAPASA.' my lips curved to form the most twisted of smiles, and muttered in what i wish was a matter-of-fact tone, 'okay'. and then i opened the white envelope addressed to my parents. 'we regret to inform you that....' my heart sank. it looked a lot like the rejection letters sent to some of my friends last year...but those letters dont mean they barely have noodles. :'c the acet really was hard, and it's quite understandable to fail a college entrance exam.. but a high school admission test? (well, except for pisay, of course. i barely made it.) and both of them?

my feet were heavy as i walked out of the office, and i thought i would cry. poor jojo and jopet. they really, really fell in love with the campus when my sister and i took them for a walk in school. i cant help but recall the expression on jojo's face as we were walking along a corridor in SOM. i asked him if he thought ateneo was a nice place and he replied. 'okay lang, ma-fail man ako.' his expression was reminiscent of his face whenever he would stare longingly at his favorite burger on jollibee posters which i would not get him because 'jojo, how many excess pounds are inside that big belly?'

it was really depressing. i feel for them. i've never experienced being rejected (completely, at least) by a school i've applied for but holding two rejection letters beloning to two of the people fondest to my heart (and pinch-hungry fingers and hug-seeking arms) has given me the same feeling.

but the sun is not totally hidden from view. they've made it to northfield school for boys in tandang sora(?).

they're still joining us here in manila next year, and i'll be playing mom and dad to them. :)

anticipating it with bright eyes. :D (i'll make their tummies shrink and maybe even help them do what i never did in my entire hs life.. make it to the honor roll.)

jojo and jepotti, your manang korin's got your backs. :)

she loves you almost as much as she loves herself. (kidding)

baka hindi ako ang nagsulat nito.

with our palms kissing and our fingers entwined,/ let us drift to a place not on any map./ let the soles of our feet bounce merrily/ as we frolic in free-wheeling wanderlust./ the road ahead may curve, twist, wind and fork,/ but we will always find home in each other's arms./

:)

Reality bites. That’s all I can say after one sem at the Ateneo. (Which reminds me, it’s not even entirely over yet. Hell, it definitely isn’t. Next week is finals week, yes, next week. Just after the previous one which was heavily riddled with long tests and deadlines. Two consecutive hell weeks= tears, zits, bad hair days, stress, ultimate ‘sabaw’ness etc etc. Wow, never had anything like this in high school.) Okay so.. Hmmm.. Let me browse over the probable outcome of my lackluster performance this sem. Yikes. Ouch. I don’t think I can do that. It’s too painful, not to mention just downright humiliating. Let’s just say I’m in dreadful anticipation of letters that would make my report card hideous. Oh shit oh shit. I can’t believe this. One late submission and now I’m in danger of repeating a subject. No, please. Please, God please, I hope he accepted it. Please please Please I would accept whatever grade for that paper. Basta sana tanggapin lang niya. Im unbelievable. How did I let myself get into this mess? It’s supposed to be my best subject darn it but now.. please oh please please…

Sir, if you’re reading this… Oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please Oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please Oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please Oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please Oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please

I could go on and on but boy do I have stuff to do.

holy crap. for lack of something better to start an entry with, i wrote those two little words. i am mentally (and physically and emotionally, too) drained this moment and let me give you a quick peek as to why:
1. i have to write this. (heehee :D) when you have to worry about an upcoming group report in chemistry and the looming taekwondo finals (both of which will take place tomorrow), even writing, which usually is my way of clearing my head and lightening my load, ironically becomes a chore. as i write this, i am aware that this entry is sort of late. crap. damn milenyo. we lost power for three days, along with the landline. and when electricity did resume, smartbro failed me. that means no internet at home. (fuck smartbro and the greedy capitalists behind it) which is why i am here at prince david past midnight, reasearching, LJ-ing and friendster-ing at the same time. and just as a side note, being deprived of electricity for 3 days brought me an unsurprising yet striking realization: the strings of my so-called life are totally and completely held together by technology. during those three long days, i felt i was at the brink of insanity. there was absolutely nothing to do. the people sharing the same roof with me were equally bored and miserable. my elder sister switched on the laptop to play solitaire, (something she hasnt done in ages, and something a normal person does ONLY when there's nothing else to do) and mouthed a slow mo, cinematic 'NNNOOOOO', when the laptop;s battery was finally drained. my cousins and i were downstairs, making silly faces at the mirror and laughing at how funny and ugly the results were.

2. the responsibilities of being a defacto legal guardian/ household overseer are getting into my nerves. i especially find it annoying when one of my cousins knocks on my door just a little after six in the morning to make me sign a pile of reply slips (I am allowing my daughter to..) or

Hello. My head is about to crack. Oh my gosh oh my gosh my noodles are tangled in so many places. And once more, I am faced with this familiar nerve-wracking scenario of me having to finish another LJ entry before the clock strikes twelve when all my ideas turn into ineffectual knots of confused words. (As if my words don’t sound confused now. Forgive me. I type right away what comes zooming into my head through one ear before it zooms out of the other.) Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh. I cannot explain why my thoughts are all muddled but they are and even my hands are not cooperating. I cannot type fast because my hands are shaking. What’s wrong with me? Korin, breathe in, breathe out. There’s no need to panic. You’re a cramminator, remember? Okay? Okay. So now that I’ve regulated my breathing, maybe I can start writing… And since my brain is not able to function properly, let me write about the most inevitable (and probably the most boring…) thing to write about: what happened to me today. Yehey! Aren't you excited? HAhahahahahahahahaha. Actually, it doesn't matter. This is my LJ, and I decide what to post. And since this LJ is called theKORINichle, it is but fitting that i have leeway to write on my favorite topic: MYSELF. :D

RRRRRinnnnggg. A phone call was my wakeup bell this morning. It was a long-distance call from my life-size teddies in Kalibo. My cute and cuddly twin brothers Jojo and Jopet were on the phone to say hello. With my eyes half-shut, I mouthed a drowsy “Yelow?” on the receiver. “Hello, Manang Korin!’ I barely recognized the voice from the other end of the line. I rubbed my eyes and sat up straight. “Who’s this?” “Grabe, Manang..” “Sarryyy.. Who’s this?” “This is Jojo, evuhhlllll..” I shut up and listened as he began telling me stories. But none of those registered because I paid heed only to the odd change in his voice. And then it made sense. At twelve years old, Jojo, the older and fatter one, is on a ride with his puberty cycle! Amused, I pressed my ear on the receiver to catch how my little (well actually, he’s heavier than I, so I don’t know if ‘little’ is appropriate for him at all) brother’s voice is undergoing a metamorphosis from its originally high-pitched state (it used to often be mistaken for my own.. which sort of frustrates me.. how come mine does not seem to have undergone ANY change since six?!!!) to a noticeably lower, awkwardly in between girly and boyish timbre that would break ever now and then, to be followed by a fit of my giggles (Aww.. Jojo! ‘Nagbibinata’!) Right. My cherubic babies are growing up so fast. The memory of the last time I played my favorite prank on Jojo (this involves me pulling down his shorts to reveal two chubby butt cheeks immaculate except for a cute green island on the right) still seems so fresh that I have a vivid mental picture of his humongous butt. But I know he’ll no longer let me get away with it, not now that he is at the onset of adolescence, and is in fact about to enter the dazed world of high school. My Jojo and Jopetti will fly to Manila come Friday next week to take the entrance exam of Ateneo High School. I’m definitely looking forward to being sandwiched between my semi-identical teddies as they give me twin rib-breaking hugs. :)

Now let me proceed to the highlight of the day: Ateneo’s ijustcantfindtherightword marvelous wonderful terrific incredible unbelievable fairy tale victory over UST in Game One of the finals. It’s 1-0, baby… and we beat them with 1 second flat remaining in the clock. Damn right. Exactly one second. Who thought that just one second would be enough to drive the game into a complete turn, making the pallid Blue crowd suddenly jump as one in a triumphant wave? Not me. Not you. Not even Norman Black. But most of all, not the player from UST who further projected his already prominent lower jaw and held his arms up high, revealing hideously hairy armpits as he basked in ephemeral victory. A teammate of his jumped high behind him in celebration. Fool. That’s from how high you’d fall.

The noise from the extremely outnumbered UST crowd was now deafening, “Go, UST! Beat Ateneo!” Those few seconds were heart-crushing. Evangelista had just nailed a 2-point shot point about four seconds before time and gave UST a one-point lead. The UST crowd was on their feet, cheering their hearts out for they thought they had just witnessed the game’s winning shot. I saw a banner saying ‘1-0’ being confidently waved on their side. Only one second left.

Right then and there, I wanted to switch off the television in surrender and I was telling my sister how glad I was we weren’t in the Big Dome. Only a huge miracle would give us the win in such a small margin of time. And it did! Unbelievably, the usually slippery hands of Escalona worked a perfect miracle by making an opportune pass to Doug who was wide open under the ring. I held my breath. Doug jumped and ended the game with a most dramatic buzzer beater. With a rush of adrenalin and fierce pride, my sister and I were suddenly up in the air. We relished every moment as we watched the Blue Eagles in jubilant celebration of the victory that was Ateneo’s and only Ateneo’s. The camera focused on Doug’s delighted face and shifted to some UST player’s sorry one, as if to highlight the tremendous contrast not only in the expression but in the features as well. IN YOUR ugly FACE!

My sister and I were so caught in the moment that we joined the Ateneo crowd in singing the alma mater in front of our TV screen, complete with the exultant arm movement. HAHA (Yeah it must’ve looked stupid but who cares?)

Ahhh.. The kiss of victory... Sweet.

HALIKINU!

a pair of bulging, robust cheeks with prominent cheekbones, a large, comical nose, eyes drooping slightly at the corners (that ironically make him look chinese), and dark, thin lips that are almost always curled upward in an infectious, irresistible half-smile - this is the arrangement of the features on my dad's round, boyish face as i've captured it in my head. his head is covered by a mass of ebony strands.. but dont be fooled. look closer and you'll see white specks near the roots. let your eyes take a detour to his upper body - down from his distinct face to the (in fairness still visible) neck to the powerful, broad shoulders (one part of his anatomy that is distinctly aldecoa, which he has passed on to all of us. the other one is his big nose, which i blissfully lack.), to the two conspicuous humps on his chest ('mom, how come dad's boobs are bigger than yours?' i seriously asked as a little girl), and down to the climax... a forty-nine-year-old beer belly.

Im currently wearing a smile because of the two sweet doses of freedom I've taken.

The first dose came just now, and it's my liberation from the verbal constipation that has been straining my mental processes. I simply cannot afford to deal with this sort of constipation these days. Of course, all my language subjects demand that I articulate myself through words. (and as I write this, I feel my stomach drop because it came to me that I have a 4-page literary analysis paper due this Friday, which will account for a whopping 30% of my grade in Lit13... and to think it's my first time ever to do literary analysis on a classical short story. I did a 15-page literary criticism back in junior year, and got an A in English for that quarter... but then again, it was about Eminem's 'Cleaning out my Closet' and my 3rd year English teacher was a self-confessed Eminem fanatic who claims to have slept with him.) Knowing that the sweet-talking skills that deceived all my high school Religion and Filipino teachers into giving me A's and A-'s (in fairness to me, i did NOT make 'bola' in my English classes. well... except in my journal entries on our extremely boring 'unchanging values in a fast changing world' lesson) just wouldn't work on my Lit teacher makes me feel a bit LITtle. haha

The second is my freedom from the greasy jaws of a doe-eyed beast. For the sake of those people fortunate because they weren't forced to listen for hours to my ridiculous lamentations concerning this beast, Mr. Doe Eyes is a creature from Mars with a prominent jaw, bony cheeks, a protruding snout (but nothing beats the Filipino term NGUSO), and powerful, voluminous eyes. You might have the noticed the relish with which I enumerated the distortions of his face. Don’t get me wrong. I am not being mean. (wow) I am just savoring every bit of my freedom from his evil spell. If you’re guessing that Mr. Doe Eyes is a humongous crush from a previous chapter of my life which, like most of my high school follies, I have outgrown, you are absolutely right. Now, as I sit back in incredulity, I just can’t help marveling at how (in the worrrrlld) I used to think about him with dreamy eyes. Well, one possible explanation for this is that he was better looking in high school. I don’t know how his face changed so dramatically but it did. It definitely did. Or maybe I just bumped my head against the bathroom door really hard one morning, bringing me invaluable enlightenment. (At buti nalang talaga nauntog ako) And since this crucial epiphany reverberates in my whole being, it was a breeze for me to muster the guts to confess. Yes, I’ve told him about it. And the confession was nowhere near the cheesy, romantic, movie-like revelation I envisioned during those days when I was still so blindly smitten over the beast. The opportunity presented itself when he texted to tease me for he had seen me with someone in church.

‘hanneeepppp. sabay pa talaga magsimba. yes naman……. ako naghahanap palang e……. hanapan mo ako sa admu’

‘okay sige haha. ano ba type mo? ung mga gaya ni *******?’ (the name of my friend who used to be his ‘special’ friend)

‘hindi.. ung kagaya….mo… joke…..’
Flirtatious ass. But at least he had the decency to punctuate his statement with ‘joke’. But then again, a good friend told me: ‘ano ba.. sa mga panahon ngayon.. ang salitang JOKE ay isa sa mga pinakagasgas na salita ng mga malalanding nilalang’. I will not deny that I am oddly thankful when Mr. Doe Eyes said that, because for some reason I saw a green light flashing. It was time to tell him.

‘whatever. shut up haha. ay alam mo ba.. hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Natatawa nlng ako ngayon kasi tapos na pero hahahahahaha alam mo ba naging crush kita dati hahahahahahaha’
The poor creature really had no idea as to why I was laughing that hard.

‘talaga? seryoso?’

‘ang fisher ha. Oo nga’

‘Sabaw...’

Damn right.
Because now that I’ve fully recovered from your spell, I try very hard to probe your face for remnants of the things that made me shriek and sigh at the same time last year.

But it’s impossible.


All I could see is one big nguso.

IIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMMM FFFFFRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the clock is ticking... i have roughly 20 minutes to finish another entry that's due midnight... hmmm.. hmmm... i'm getting sick of this pathetic excuse for a word.. 'hmmm' is the end product of my coconut whenever it's shamefully empty, devoid of interesting new ideas... so hmmm... hmmm.. just let me be. let me immerse myself in a long litany of 'hmmm's 'til i find enough inspiration to write. yeah.. let me fill this entry with an infinite string of 'hmmm's' til my brain jumpstarts to come up with anyhting sensible.. so... here goes....
hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..
hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..
hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..hmmm... hmmm..

you're right. i cheated. the copy-paste feature of computers really comes handy every time. hmmm. (shit that was involuntary i swear.)

hmmm.. im taking my tiiimmmmee... i know this verbal constipation will come to a halt. lalalalalala... oh please please God give me inspiration to get my fingers dancing across the keyboard... it's been a while since i heard the triumphant melody of the tap-tapping of the keys being hammered by eager fingers. and i wont hear my own fingers happily tap-tapping on the keyboard until i get a sudden rush of inspiration or a surge of fresh new ideas... hmm so let me think.. lalalalalalalala.
eureka! finally! :)

Hello. :) I'm in no mood to write another entry that's symptomatic of my occasional attacks of emotional diarrhea...
And since my noodles are presently tangled in many places because of the brain-twisting systemsofequationscirclesemicircleparabolahalfaparabolaandallthatmathematicalblah I've been working on for tomorrow's midterms, I've decided to take a break by writing about a light and happy topic.. my crushes! :) my make-shift crushes. :)(to be continued)

So.. once again, the predictable and boring cloud of emo-ness looms above my head… and the cause is predictable too: grades. Big surprise.

Every cell in my body was drained of energy when I set eyes on that small yet powerful piece of paper containing my advisory marks. Such ugly letters. The same letters which had occurred on my high school report cards with scarcity… it was almost negligible… arrested me with their striking abundance this time… I was floored.

Back in that paradise called high school, my report cards would always be generally decent, except for the conduct part which, in my senior year was lined with C’s due to King Kong’s dutiful monitoring of my habitual tardiness… and subjects I enjoyed as much as finding a compliment for Juday, such as Physics and Biology… Yes, these parts of my cards were nests of big, fat ugly C’s. But only these… I mean, subjects which I both hated and did not lift a finger to improve on. Back then, my (supposedly) areas, my language subjects and Religion (ahh… those sweet days when flowery words and exaggerated phrases and a handful of talent on beating around the bush were enough to merit a shiny red ‘A’ on the upper right corner of my reflection papers) , had always been comfortably seated beside A-‘s or B’s or sometimes, even A’s on my report cards. So you could just imagine how my knees weakened upon seeing ‘C’ beside Filipino. The features of my face rearranged themselves into a deep frown. A mono-syllabic question flashed like lightning inside my head… ‘Huwaaaatttttt?!!!!’ Suddenly, the memory of seeing my name beside ‘rank 1’ on the results of our Filipino diagnostic exam replayed in dramatically slow motion. It made no sense now.

My eyes quickly went through my other grades. Another C. One C+. One B. And God forbid… a D? I blinked hard.. Perhaps it was just a C facing the wrong direction which had magically sprouted a vertical line? a D?!! But when I opened my eyes, the twisted C was still not a C. It was a D. Reality felt like a hard slap in the face. My eyes went farther down... what the… Another one? Now it was like a solid kick on the groin. A blockmate kindly offered to compute my QPI (another novelty that comes with college) for me. I lapped the minimun by 1 point. just ONE point.

Now I'm beginning to fully understand the realities of college life at the Ateneo. Magis. As one of our profs told us, there's absolutely no room for mediocrity in this highly competitive environment. Everyone's just as smart, if not smarter, than you. In high school, I had breezed through school work but still got decent grades, and people would say 'Buti pa si Korin, kahit tamad, ang taas pa rin.'But now, there are no easy A's. Not even B+'s...

I have to work my butt shitless to get what I want.

This morning, I woke up with a couple of my fingers inside my mouth. My thumb and forefinger were clutching one of my upper molars, as if to hold it in place. Apparently, I had another one of those weird dreams wherein if not all, at least one of my teeth forever vacated its niche inside my mouth or became detachable. In some dreams, I chased mischievous teeth that had scampered out of my mouth and breathless, I would use wads of elmer's glue to lock them back in place afterwards. My pre-braces self believed in the superstition which says that someone would lose a loved one if she dreamt of losing a tooth. However, since I've started wearing this metallic smile, I have dismissed the old superstition as crap.. or figured that maybe, it just doesnt apply to people with braces. After all, the belief was conceived long before man discovered braces to address the ballooning demands of vanity. Anyway, I usually have these bizarre nightmares when I'm fresh from my appointment with the orthodontist, and complex bits of rubber and metal will have been added to the already complicated structure of orthodontal thingamajiggers inside my mouth (which is supposed to make me prettier in two years time. if not, *%&#!)... the immediate consequence of which will be torture for my poor little (fine, it's BIG) mouth. It will have a new set of sores in the most 'strategic' places, making food intake laborious, and I will feel my teeth loosen as I take a bite of my favorite burger. But enough of my ranting! This week gave me a handful of reasons to flash my metallic smile. (which thankfully still has only four pearly whites missing.. but come to think of it, four is not so 'only' in the first place.. well, that's the number of teeth my orthodontist had extracted from my mouth... now you understand why someone is really gonna get it from me if my braces don't serve its purpose.. I mean i've invested not just (my parents') money, physical pain, but FOUR (4) healthy, fully developed teeth!)

The sun gave me the smallest of smiles came Tuesday, the day I had thought would just be plain stormy for me. That day, I came to Math class with the enthusiasm of a student jotting down another homework for hell week. It was the day our delinquent hag of a Math teacher would finally turn in our long tests after making us wait in agony for over a week. Needless to say, the long test had given me a headache. The level of difficulty of the questions was so out there compared to the examples our teacher had discussed in class (which were never her own, but always the book's). Thank you very much, witch. The problems in our long test had made no more sense than Greek, and by the time the bell rang, plump tears threatened to stain my cheeks as I vented out my frustration in mock laughter. The afternoon of that day forward, my mind would be rehearsing the scene when I'd be holding my long test answer sheet, on its upper right corner a big, red ugly letter F. So Tuesday came. I got my paper from the teacher's table and did not look at it until I reached my seat. My eyes traced a familiar route to the upper right corner of the paper. But there was no F. Instead, there was a D. I laughed at fate's little joke on me. I had dreaded seeing the letter F on my paper so much that even a D was a welcome sight. My score was the borderline between D and F. One point lower and the letter would have been F. Now, isn't that funny? Haha. Haha. HAHAHAHA.

The sun was positively beaming on me came Wednesday. Our group was to report on Marxism, which according to my Filipino teacher (or prof... whatever) was one of the hardest topics. And boy was it hard indeed. Our material for the report was written in English so we had to do three things: 1. read and understand the text 2. pick out the key points and important details 3. translate. I was assigned to study the Communist Manifesto, an impossibly long political document by Karl Marx. And since the reading was also impossibly boring, I skipped step one. Haha. I let my dear old friend Google take care of that. I got summaries of the document from the internet and scrapped them together and got the key points and translated them to Filipino and typed it on powerpoint at about the least minute. I came to Filipino class nervous. My voice was breaking every now and then as I presented my report. I did a lot of impromptu explanations, some of which came from my creative imagination. I was unnerved when my Filipino teacher suddenly stuck his butt in while I was talking, I thought he would ask me a question I couldn’t answer. But he simply said my report was ‘malinaw na malinaw’. I was the only reporter from our block so far to have received that compliment from him. Even my blockmates said I did a really good job. Lalalalala. Music to my ears.

Thursday. I went UP to satisfy my longtime craving for UP street food. Kriz and I took the jeep to that isaw spot near Balay International. I spent less than a hundred bucks but I was stuffed. I especially like that orange-colored vinegar they use in that isaw place and really want to try drinking it. My tummy was swimming with 4 sticks of isaw baboy (2 pesos per stick), 10 sticks of pork bbq (4pesos per stick), 1 stick of chicken balls (10pesos per stick), 1 stick of kweky (10pesos per stick) and 2 cones of dirty ice cream (10pesos each). Ahhh.. the UP experience! Afterward, we went to Palma Hall to meet with Lugxi and my semi-partner Xielly-Welly. Awww.. how I miss these girls from the Weirdo Trio… It was too bad that Lugxi had to get back to her org because they were busy selling lingerie. I saw lots of familiar places, including those of my blockmates. We cramped ourselves in Marc’s car to go back to that isaw place to eat some more isaw. On our way back to Katipunan, my blockmates bombarded me with miserably mushy Boy Abunda-like questions on how things were between Kriz and me.
‘Korina, kung nasa iyong harapan si Kriz ngayon.. (‘Eh nasa tabi niya na nga e.. gago.’) ano ang mensahe mo para sa kanya?’
Talk about awkward moments characterized with extra cheese. Suddenly, everything felt like high school again. Yeah so cheesy but funinaway Haha.

It wasn’t quite a TGIF sort of Friday for me last week. My last class was not quite my last class because I still had a test after. My taekwondo promotion test. My performance in this test would determine whether I will advance to the next belt level as low blue if I sucked, or high blue if I did well. 30% of my test score would be based on how I execute my forms, 70% on sparring. We do not have the best training in our PE classes, and I had not been diligent in practicing my poomse. In fact, I was still practicing my forms in the shower ten minutes before I went to the Martial Arts Center. Our coach had misinformed us of the time, such that almost all other yellow belters were done when I arrived. I took the test with only two other people from my belt level, both boys. This meant that I’d have to spar with a blue belt, which supposedly means she has more experience than I. This only heightened my lack of confidence. I sucked in my forms so I knew sparring was my only chance to make up. I was made to spar with a bluebelt girl who was about my height. Before we started sparring, I gave her a big, genuine smile to shake off the tension. But when the blackbelt gave us the go signal, I was all seriousness. That was the first time I took a sparring exercise so seriously. In the first round, I still felt a bit squeamish and so did my opponent. Kicking her on the sides of her body scored me a few points. That round was like getting-to-know-you for us. The minimal impact her kick had on my forearm when I blocked her attempt to score told me that I had an edge at least in power. I could hear the shouts of the other sparring pairs around us, sounding like they were completely absorbed in kicking each other’s asses. I let out a long, piercing yell. That, and all my nervousness evaporated. At that moment, all my whole being wanted was to score. My eyes were fixed on my opponent’s face and everything else was a mere blur of colors. I was possessed by this insane desire to go hit her and score. The insteps of my feet simultaneously landed squarely on the sides of her torso. No retaliation from her. I took advantage of her lack of aggressiveness throughout the first round and the next. It was quite amazing how an unknown side to my personality surfaced for the first time. While I was sparring, my pain receptors seemed to be numb. I didn’t feel pain of any sort... maybe because I was just too focused on blocking and hitting. That was the most focused I had been in my entire life. That was the first time I really understood what people meant when they say ‘killer’s instincts’… I just seemed to have them at that moment and it was almost scary Haha. But in fairness to me, I was quick to snap out of it when my opponent let out an ‘OUCH’ when I kicked her on the side of her head. ‘Sorry!’, I said sincerely in my high-pitched voice, although it most probably came across as fake because I was back to my fighting ‘trance’ in a heartbeat. She wasn’t able to score against me. Wow, God’s so great. :) I’m keeping my fingers crossed ‘til the announcement of results. Please let it be high blue. Please please please..

Saturday. After a lengthy negotiation and superfluous reprimands and reminders, my mom finally agreed to give my hundred-peso allowance a 50% raise. Yehey! After four long years! Now I can shove more of those fattening, unhealthy stuff into my insatiable tummy!

*currently flashing my metallic smile from ear-to-ear, the brackets of my braces glinting* Let's hope next week’s events keeps it this way.

The sheets felt cold on her skin, and the whirring of the ancient electric fan filled her ears. Loose strands of hair swept across her eyes, obscuring her view of the shamefully blank piece of paper that lay inches from her face.
She did not tuck them away.

Her chin rested on her left hand, and her right, she kept busy swinging her delinquent pen like a pendulum. She ached to write him a letter - a letter that was to narrate, explain, apologize, and most of all, reveal, on her behalf. She had been meaning to do this for months now.

But her head was clear as mud and her pen refused to cooperate. In her mind, words lay in messy bundles, perpetually entangled with one another. Her thoughts were caught in traffic, like the gob of ink that choked her pen at the tip, causing it to cough out chaotic blots on the pristine sheet.

She poised the pen in her hand and closed her eyes. She pretended she was expertly maneuvering the pen as it shrewdly impressed upon paper the clutter in her head, the fondness of her heart. She was writing beautiful words neatly and with assurance.
She almost congratulated herself for a job she had not even started.

She reluctantly opened her eyes. The once clean sheet of paper was now laden with the manifestation of her thoughts – not eloquent words nor poignant phrases, but plain, unintelligible blots. (She sighed at the irony of how these black dots were making sense.)

She put the stubborn pen aside and rolled over to lie on her back. She pulled the cold cotton sheets over her warm body. Slowly, the gentle brushing of the soft cloth on her cheeks lulled her to a deep slumber.
As she drifted to her land of dreams, the picture of his face became more vivid in her head.

Perhaps his letter could wait one more day.

taekwondo is easily one of my passions. (if you know how frustrated i am when it comes to sports that have to do with flying and/or catching things.. and if you saw how after a failed attempt to score a hoop, i looked up wondering where the ball was and got a very straightforward answer form the ball itself..so i ran to our house sporting a bruised nose and a bloody lip.. and how i made lugxi's upper lip bleed when i threw the disc right on her mouth.. then it's not hard to understand.)

today was the national taekwondo poomse competition. 'poomse' is the korean term for 'forms'. taekwondo practitioners from all over the country of all shapes, sizes and ages (there was this woman in her early 40s who competed with teenage girls) flocked to rizal coliseum to showcase the poomse designated to their belt level. for a huge taekwondo enthusiast like me, being in a major taekwondo (tkd) event was in itself a thrill. but of course, seeing life-size pictures of my long-time crush tkd legend/heartthrob/teen sensation/MVP/la sallite (okay.. skip that.) japoy lizardo and cute tkd jins show off their powerful, explosive moves was ssssoooommeeee bonus.. haha :) i enjoyed it so much i wished i were one of the competing athletes.

i saw all sorts of tkd athletes in this event. i saw the lousy, ill-prepared, nervous, inconsistent ones and the superb, confident (in a good way), disciplined, apparently well-prepared ones. im happy note that there were more of the latter, even in the grade school division. i especially enjoyed watching kids barely three feet tall (many of them already sporting black belts) all seriousness as they gave 101% to perform their poomse with flawless execution. some of them were soo good they made me feel small haha :) they were all soo cute! even more impressive were the players from the senior division. many of them were not just good but great. they executed their moves with utmost precision, without unnecessary movements and with perfect balance. mastery of form, power and control was evident in their movements. oh yeah... and their shouts (whether 'HAaaaaa!' or 'CHAaaaa!'or 'ZHAa!') were extremely intimidating, even scary. one blackbelter from claret high school did his poomse ssooo well that he looked HOT to me despite the fact that i could make out the shape of his skull because of his bony features. my eyes were practically glued to him the whole time, i bet he noticed. i just couldnt help myself. he was just so damn good! not surprisingly, he went home with a gold medal.

...so what's my point? my point is because of what i saw today at rizal coliseum, which in my eyes was a spectacle... my desire to attain blackbelt status reverberates in my being more than ever! (starting to sound nuts, am i? pls bear with me. it's my usual tendency when i talk about something im passionate about :) taekwondo is not like a nat sci class (.. like friggin chemistry or physucks..) which i would forever bid goodbye after the course is over... it's something i definitely want to finish... even if it would mean that the muscles all over my body would grow some more so that then only thing about me that wouldn't pass off as masculine is my voice...haha :) i dont care how many times they call me 'lalaki'anymore. i can always get back at them anyway. i can do that by screaming in their ear or if i get fed up, i could always try something i haven't done since grade school.. kick their asses... literally. FUN! haha :)

it's been a while since my last post.. but im too lazy to write an essay... so i'll just share the emo-est line i've written in my sixteen years. i wrote it on my planner yesterday. it doesnt pertain to anyone... really, these words are bigger than i. doesnt even sound like me.

'you see, my addiction rivals a serious medical condition that has escalated to its terminal stage.... but no, im NOT calling the doctor. i CHOOSE to stay tormented by this horrible, chronic disease called YOU.'

see? so emo. yuck.

but sometimes being emo is fun. every time i assume this ultra-emo state, everything suddenly becomes poignant. i cry for the silliest reasons (like having two 'airplanes' in my braces). my tear ducts become even more shallow than usual. that's instant catharsis for me. :) and then im back to my usual hyper self. okay that doesn't make sense.

and btw, to all my blockmates and classmates... especially the boys... im a girl! im a girl! you may see cuts on my arms when i swing my gigantic backpack to its niche on my (broad) shoulders, and i beat some of you at arm wrestling, but im a GIRL!!!! im not even demanding that you call me a 'woman'... and i always demand to be treated like an adult, but this time.. i dont even care as long as you acknowledge me as a specimen of the opposite sex!!!! ahhhck! im not one of you so please stop asking me to flex my muscles and challenging me to arm wrestling and calling me 'LALAKI!'in the corridors, and asking me to hit the kickpad in taekwondo class just so you'll have even more reasons to call me'LALAKI'. cut it out! im starting to feel like a mutated freak with a man's shoulders and a six-year-old girl's voice.

so if you dont want me splitting your eardrums with a high-frequency scream, STOP IT!

last sunday, something i saw at friendster horrified me out of my wits. i was browsing through my testimonials, and one particularly spineless testimonial caught my eye.
(out of rage, i had deleted it from my profile. it was written in aklanon. translated, it's something as pathetic as: 'the first time i saw you, i couldn't help but notice your beautiful face... the twinkle in your eyes, the the rosy red of your lips.. almost everything is perfect... and, i must admit.. up to now, i love you very much.)

it was from an equally spineless creature named luigi, or 'luigiFULLER', as he wishes to be identified in friendster. he was a classmate from grade school, who, i distinctly remeber, tried to impress me with a snide remark about something unintelligent our teacher had uttered. screwing up his face so that it would project haughty sarcasm, he said:
'ha! do i stupid? or do i dumb?'

intrigued by his unique username and the fact that someone of his brain size had learned to use friendster, i clicked on his icon to have a look at his profile. i was surprised that his profile was overflowing with testimonials from his 'girlfriend', a certain 'cassie bea', the content of which was clearly symptomatic of severe brain damage, for she had written stuff like:

cAsSiE 'bea... | 5/7/2006

waaahhh...

miss na kitah!!

as in sooobraaaa!!!

see you soon, huh??!!!

love you soooo much!!

tecee gd prme... (this translates to: 'teecee always..')

mmwah!!


and...


cAsSiE 'bea... Posted 5/7/2006
.(....\............../....)..
..\....\........... /..../..
...\....\.._.._../..../....
....\..../....l..`\_./....
..../....l....l....(..`\....
...l.....l.._.l.._.\....\...
...l.....l__.l__.l''\....\..
...\...................'../..
.....\__________/
......STAY>Cool>>>>>>

L U I G I


take care!!! GOD bless!!! more power!!! hehe...hahaha gali...

..::::I'll be here till the end::::..
dats a promis..
& i plan to kip it..

no matter wat f sumday our
love shud..
fade...
i'll luk back & remember...

d promis i made!!!


i was amazed. dumbfounded.
what woman would want 'it' for a boyfriend? moved by authentic sympathy for a most deluded creature and an ardent desire to understand her predicament, i proceded to study her profile. the first thing that called my attention was this part:

Schools (Other):
ateneo de manila university, miriam college high school

oh come on! COME ON! if she's had the same education as i, then surely luigi's repugnant english would be reason enough for her to ignore him... (and she wouln't be among those who make use of senseless graphics and forms of pwetry - these sorry excuses for testimonials - that further cheapen friendster)

i was incredulous. nonetheless, i went on to read the 'About Me' portion:

About Me:
Summer has not even reached its peak but I am already in delirious anticipation...
(Oh, in fairness, this girl sounds like she has something between her ears...

WAIT A MINUTE... HOLYSHITFUCKPUTANGINA IM READING MY OWN PROFILE!)

I skimmed it up to the last paragraph. every sentence... every word... every syllable was MINE! As if this weren't enough, the 'hobbies', 'favorite movies', 'favorite books', 'interests'... everything was copy pasted from my profile!

See for yourself:
http://www.friendster.com/2674242 - my friendster profile
http://www.friendster.com/30066223 - cassie's profile
http://www.friendster.com/user.php?uid=11963046 - the stinkhole's profile

apparently, the shameless faggot created a fictitious girlfriend, stole some poor girl's pictures to give it a face, and stole my profile to give it personality. he even writes testimonials for himself using the imaginary girl's account, making up stories, inventing details. to make his creation more convincing, he made 7 pages of testimonials for this character, 33 testimonials in fact.. all from himself.

I've encountered a lot of desperate people in my life, but luigi is so far and by FAR the very worst. He exemplifies how sheer desperation and creepy stalking tendencies can rid someone of the slightest trace of sanity. Boy is he sick. His parents must be sorry they've nursed a creature that's so pathetic, it couldn't sink any lower.

Somebody please pull him from the dung heap he's in!

So… What does one expect a stressed out college student (after two successive days of sheer emotional diarrhea) to do on a lazy Friday afternoon? Yeah, I’ll probably get varied answers from different people. But it doesn’t matter, I’ll give you my answer anyway. :) I’m not exactly proud of what I did last Friday, but I cannot apologize for something I enjoyed :)

As is my usual tendency every last school day of the week, I was restless last Friday. I just came from an uninteresting class, and had written balderdash on my paper, hoping that my teacher would grade me for ‘effort’ and not give me an egg for a score. I was in caf up (ateneanspeak for 2nd floor caf… to my friends from UP, do I see your eyes rolling? Heehee :)) with three of my blockmates, munching on an overpriced waffle as I went through what had happened the last few days… Some events that are worth mentioning are: chilling at mag.net with lugxi (our dream date! haha) as we tried to keep going with our silli- and korin- talk despite the couple who was swallowing each other’s faces two tables away, seeing a half-page BPI savings newspaper ad with (MOMMY!) a full body shot of my dad (in fairness to him, the papers he was holding effectively concealed his beer belly), realizing with much relief that I’d be staying in Math 11 after all, the not-as-easy-as-i-made-it-seem beginning of the end with him, having to go home from Chem lab to get rubber shoes (Yeah, really makes sense. But who knows? A berserk chemical reaction might cause degassed coke to scald my toes.)

Since i was in a particularly emo state, looking back at the past week was such a chore... plus i wanted to have a little fun that would rid me of my 'emo-ness'.. so yes, my friend barrymore (my high school friends' nick for drews) was the inevitable (though superficial) solution. (Yeah... infamous drews stinking with cigarettes and alcohol, with a filthy washrooom smelling like urine especially when there's piss in the trash can... but hey.. this ugly place can be a lot of fun.. ANd that explains what one college student chose to do one lazy Friday afternoon..)

Jill*, Nina* (I've deiced not to use their real names since narrow-minded people are quick to judge) and I took the trike to drews. The strong smell of cigarettes that greeted our nostrils told us that there were probably no seats for us.. True enough, the place was already teeming with its usual friday crowd. Jill suggested that we go to Tribu. I had never been thEre before, but thought there was no harm trying, so we headed straight to Tribu. Jill's friends were there so we joined their table. Funny how alcohol makes socializing super easy. We ordered a pitcher of GinPom, and the waitress brought it to our table with (what the... i was expecting shot glasses) your-usual-drinking-water-sized glasses. It started to hit me only when we were done with the first pitcher. I was grinning ear-to-ear for no reason, and I was talking louder than usual. But I could still think clearly, so we agreed we could take a little more. We asked for another pitcher. It took a while so Nina and I decided to go to the washroom first. I wasnt all too surprised to see that in the cubicle, there was urine all over the floor. Apparently, some crazy girl had gotten herself too drunk and peed all over the place. Nevertheless, we decided to stay in the washroom and since we had the room to oursleves, we swapped personal stories with much ease. I felt so light, and my 'emo-ness' was a burden no more. After about 20 mins of just chatting, we went back to our table. I had just one glass from the second pitcher and I decided to stop because something was starting to heat up inside my stomach. And so, what do girlfriends do when they're together and they have alcohol in their system? Talk, of course. GIRL talk. Fearless, honest-to-goodness girl talk. Should I get into the details? Naaah...

Jill said she had business at drews. And so, in accord to my own free will, (Im stressing this because i just hate it when other people blame their faults on 'bad influence' BLAH.) i decided to go with her and Nina. It was almost 7 when we got to drews, and the place was still full, but we got seats anyway. We joined a table of familiar faces and Jill took out the remainder of the second pitcher of GinPom we ordered from Tribu. Someone from the other end of the table exclaimed, 'Ingenious!'. Haha. They were done with it in a minute so we decided to order some more drinks. At this point, I was barely tipsy so I thought 'why not?'. We ordered GinStraw. It was a lot stronger than the drink we had at Tribu so after three-four shots plus two shots of I dont know whatever that was but it was really strong... my head began to spin. It was really kicking in. Words came out free-flowing, I was feeling restless and relaxed at the same time.. but inexplicably, I felt great. Talking to a person I barely knew, I started to rid myself of the clutter in my chest. I found it unusually easy to talk about it, even relating it apathetically. I was really having fun.

However, although I've had a little too much to drink, I think I could still tell you with a straight face that I wasn't drunk. I daresay this because although I was talking nonstop, I was careful not to name names. I was especially on guard with being touchy with the boys.. When I started to feel dizzy, I inched closer to Nina and made sure there was a good 8-inch distance between me and the guy seated next to me, and absolutely no body parts were touching. Haha. (Of course.. Im not stupid.. I know that in these situations, anything goes.. Must equip myself with heightened cautiousness.)I was even observant of the people around me. (I was weirded out by how two girls I just met, after telling them my name, told me 'I find you so pretty.' yes, its really flattering, but its really weird.)
But nonetheless, there was no denying that I was tipsy. That was probably the most I drank in my whole life, and I still had to commute to get home. So I said goodbye to my friends who all thought it was too early for me to go considering i live in varsity hills, but they dont have my parents for parents, so i decided to leave. Stepping out of the door, I had a good look at the sticker saying 'LIQUOR PROHIBITED TO MINORS'. 'Liquor prohibited to minors, my ass', an involuntary echo in my head said.

It definitely was a conscious effort for me to walk straight, but I suppose Im really good at faking it because nobody noticed I was tipsy when I got home at (exactly) 8. :)

With alcohol in my system and my escapade undetected, I felt g.r.e.a.t. The effect started to wear off after I had taken a shower, shamelessly singing Britney Spears at the top of my lungs (to which the boy next door replied 'yihee!' every time i sang 'hit me baby one more time' for all i cared... he's ugly anyway.. hahakidding). After that, i felt so sleepy i hit the sheets uhm... not looking decent at all.

I guess my biological clock is just not used to me sleeping early so I woke up at around midnight, totally back to normal.

The first thing I did was to check my phone.
I didn't see what I wanted to see.
YM.
nothing there.

While the fleeting sensation from my drinking faded, reality started to kick in. It was like a hard slap in the face. Alcohol kept me in cloud 9 for a few hours, but after that was the twice as hard falling back to earth. Things were still bad and ugly.

As I slipped back to my emo state, my eyes started to mist.

as the saying goes, change is the only permanent thing in this world. funny how you suddenly appreciate cliches when you get first-hand experience on what they're about.

(this entry has absolutely nothing to do with my first one)

the cheesy title is some sort of prologue to this even cheesier entry. but actually, the full title is 'the beginning of the end of ____ (fill in the blank)'... so... after nine months of (fill in the blank), it has come to an end. i dont know how exactly it happened or whose fault was it (but i daresay it was mutual) which shouldn't be entirely surprising since i don't know how it started and who started it anyway, but it really is over. maybe not completely, but it is on its way there. writing about such a touchy issue is such a chore... words just keep getting stuck in my head. however, i am pretty confident that some time in the near (im not used to sulking, you know... especially if it's over the most unlikely creature) future, i'll be able to do an entry on the same topic with much more ease, because i'll regard it with a kind of detachmanent that's akin to cold-blooded... ooops ooops... okay okay.. my horns are starting to push their way against the thick mop of hair on my head. i have to be careful not to confuse getting over with being bitter. and i shall train my tongue to never utter unkind words (as is my usual tendency) about him simply because he's so freaking nice. normally, i cope with frustrating, confusing, staring-into-thin-air emo experiences by hurling mental insults at the person involved. (yes, i know its sick) so that's why it's hard going through this... i can't hate him. i'll never permit myself to.

but im happy with the way things are. im glad our (cheesy word coming up) relationship has never been black nor white. it was never a love-hate thing. it was always comfortably in between. wait... let me correct myself. the word 'hate' doesnt belong here. :)... which is why i can look at you in the eye and tell you we're friends, no more (not anymore haha), no less. i want to use the word 'like'.. but it'll just take me back to some mushy high school memories my brain so desperately wants to erase. looking back at them is as comfortable as having a 24-hour wedgie. and besides, i dont want to trouble myself trying to explain something that has never been quite clear to me. enough said.

the sun will shine for me tomorrow :)

****some sort of prologue (whatever) ***
Summer has not even reached its peak but I am already in delirious anticipation of SY 2006-2007. Ironically, the somewhat tranquil atmosphere of our province has caused me to nurse this restlessness that makes me long for my fast-paced life in Katipunan. I miss my daily morning routine: waking up at 7-gobbling down my breakfast while attempting to cover 10 pages of Ibon in less than 10 mins-taking a quick shower-my record-breaking walk-a-thon to school-taking the detour in the caf to eliminate the needless anxiety of having to face kingkong at her office-taking the stairs three at a time, gaining speed upon hearing the foreboding sound of the bell-and finally, walking through the backdoor of my classroom as I flash an apologetic grin to my teacher.
And then, the thought struck me with the impact of a powerful 45 kick on the groin: high school’s over. Fat tears trickled down my cheeks on our graduation. I cried with the rest of the Pink Batch, partly out of humiliation for being the sole latecomer that afternoon out of 345, (for this, let me acknowledge this extremely responsible salon along katipunan for giving my appointment topmost priority) but essentially out of bittersweet reminiscence of my stay in the all-girl sanctuary that is MCHS. Vivid images of the four years I had spent in my inverted tree uniform went through my mind in dramatically slow motion… my first day in school as a promdi whose eardrums have never before been acquainted with the overwhelming noise of an all-girl crowd, the first time I did my homework in school which became a sick habit after the first attempt, how I had cheered my heart out in that glorious championship game for the Blue Eagles, my first time to exercise my forgery skills on a reply slip due to a fairly valid excuse and the many times I used the same skill for not-so-valid excuses, how inside a cubicle and beside its big bowl of yellow soup I had half-cried, half-laughed out of frustration over my first thesis, my
first dose of infatuation which was not only tragic but just plain stupid, how my house had become a convenient stop-over for my classmates before we proceeded to our ehem.. escapades.. :)
Miserably corny as it may sound, such experiences have molded a tremendous part of the ‘not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman’ (oh yeah, fourtoohot!) Korin that is, and looking back at them takes me to the cradling arms of nostalgia... It’s funny how my high school diploma can stand for so many things.. the 5 hours of community service I have rendered at school which, in my case, was prerequisite to graduation, my challenging but nonetheless sweet high school days, and most of all.. it’s my virtual passport to my new world.. this new jungle called college. Im both excited and terrified, but it’s more of the former. After all, I’d be studying at the Ateneo when I thought I wouldn’t, I’d be taking up a course that suits my preferred career path, and well.. the free cuts and the creatures from mars! haha;)
JGSOM, here I come!
*********
This was (oh, and due to the fact that i've been too lazy to give my profile an upadate that's long overdue, it still is) posted on the 'about me' portion of my friendster profile. I wrote it some time last summer, at an hour very much like now, when so many thoughts zoom in and out of my head that i just had to sit down and write.
Whew. So.. this is it. I finally have an LJ account. Thanks to my English 11 teacher for giving me the reason to get one started, as I had been looking for something more convincing (like an academic requirement) than my friends' casual prodding to finally decide to publicize my life and bits of myself on an online journal.
(to be continued haha)