End It with a Bang…and a Wet Shirt: December 2012

Huzzah, I am not yet dead!

I’m sooooo sorry this took so long. I’m slowly but surely emphasis on the slowly trying to write all the things that have happened in the past year and a half, while keeping track of the current stuff. I have no excuse. It’s spring break over here (Hear! Hear! Filipino student on spring break? You probably already have an idea of what one of the future posts will be about.). And I’m working. Oops, so much for no excuses.

Either way, if you’re still sure you want to see what madness my classmates and I have been up to, read on below! Continue reading


So, Errr…

A smashed glass, a pile of wet academic readings, and a mutilated hand later, I type you yet another excuse for my lateness.

Come to think of it, my recent posts seem to have a lot of blood and/or violence in them. I wonder if I see a trend.

Ah well. So I’m posting late again. Because I am such a useless waste of space orz LOL, I kid. Self-pity only gets people so far, usually not farther than what they can throw.

Aaaaand I’m going to stop with the uncalled for, snarky, woe-is-me comments.

Life has been…how shall I put it? Well, let’s just say that instead of being one week of fast food, the past week for me has become one week (and counting) of brine stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes. And I don’t even have a current romantic relationship! Even then, I have a feeling I won’t be the one doing the crying. I’m a shameless, heartless bastard after all.

Just a few hours ago, I came to a realization. I now understand why the people in asylums, or the ones that are emotionally and/or psychologically unstable, or the ones that have finally broken, are portrayed as laughing nearly, if not fully, hysterically while crying uncontrollably.

It’s because laughter is their only remaining reassurance that somehow, some way, they are still part of the waking world, and that other people know this. That they haven’t disappeared into the void of nothingness as they’ve feared. That they’re still alive and not just some phantom living in someone else’s version of life. That they still retain a part of themselves. That they’re still there.

I’ve also unfortunately had to experience an emotional breakdown in front of my maternal parent. After avoiding showing her such weakness for nearly nineteen years. And she brought it on in the first place. knew my skills had to have come from somewhere. I think my pride just jumped the window.

So, well, I guess life’s been pretty busy lately. You don’t say? Pretty damn hard too. It’d put a rock to shame. It’s not something I want to let show in my writing but obviously does so I might hold off posting the next parts for a bit. After all, the first few parts of SASBRC is supposed to be light and happy, if a bit fluffy. I’m trying to write the middle parts though, the part after Hogwarts (yes, I’m ambitious enough to let it get that far xD). And, well, I figured since they would be in the middle of a war, I’d use these types of typically destructive emotions to make something, well…would fanfiction be considered productive? *sweatdrop*

I’m really sorry I keep making you wait. I’m a bad author D:

My best friend is ranting at me to sleep now. “Calm down and sleep,” he said. And I think I should. I still have to try typing up some stuff both for school and for fun tomorrow. And I totally forgot to study for my upcoming exam this week. I am so going to die @_@

I would just like to take this opportunity to thank the people who helped me through tonight.

Thank you, Lee, for the virtual slap and taking me back to reality.

Thank you Victor, for trying to help me and ultimately making me laugh. You always, without fail, manage to do that when you catch me crying. I can’t quite believe you’re still the person who only comes to me when he needs me as his emotional crutch. I’m sorry for springing you with all that happened tonight. And for burdening you with some of the deeper causes of this.

And thank you Bryan, for sticking around even though I know that studying for your exams in engineering without taking anime breaks exhausted you. For locking yourself in your room with the tablet to talk to me despite it not being fully yours. And for shortening what was already a short sleeping schedule just to talk to me and tell me to sleep.

Post One Week “Vacation”

A new school week full of make up classes, food trips, lessons, and insanity. Throw in a plateful of lobby-made because it wasn’t exactly homemade since we made it in the middle of the second floor lobby kimbap, topoki, and an unidentifiable spicy pancit LOL I kid jap chae, free food, four hours of Alternative Classroom Learning Experience which I utterly regret not being able to attend, fantasizing about said ACLE, peppered conversations with my best friend, and the typical dose of insanity with my awesome forever classmates because we have no official block but stick together for majors anyway, and you get a week and a half of my first semester sophomore college life, one week after our “vacation” due to the torrential rains of the Southwest Monsoon.

The Alternative Classroom Learning Experience (ACLE) is always really something to look forward to. But seriously, I’m starting to notice a trend. My participation in school activities is always, without fail, next to nonexistent during the first semester of any year, in any school, during whatever level of education. No matter what the activity is. It was really too bad we had to make progress with our research paper sometime this week (the other groups have already started with their second language variety or are nearly done with their first, while we still face the problems of a practically nonexistent member and our main language consultant returning to her province and not knowing when she’ll come back. Ergo, we haven’t even gotten to half of our first language variety. If you’re wondering, yes, I’m panicking.)

I mean really. I was having a hard time deciding what to attend, and then I ended up not being able to go because we recorded for said paper. My choices were, among others, Tai Chi, Furoshiki Workshop (that’s the art of traditional Japanese cloth wrapping), Exorcism: Can This Happen to You?, Forensic Anthropology and Human Rights, Parkour Demo + Workshop, Kick and Flip Capoeira, Aikido, Forensic Science, Arms Training (probably what I would have attended had I gone), and Ethical Hacking.

Awesome, yeah?

I wasn’t able to attend and am now on the brink of having a childish tantrum about it and nothing in particular…they’re right, PMSing women are scary! so I’m having a typical conversation with my best friend whilst we study for our first thing at seven in the bloody morning exam. No Pottermore too, since we set up a sort of curfew at one in the morning for when we have classes the following day. Usually.

Here’s a snippet of our conversation. It’s one of the…saner parts of the conversation, I think. I leave it to you to judge who said what how.

And yes, I know. We’re absolutely mental.


“My brain has turned into the consistency of porridge. Fancy a helping?”

“That’s revolting XD”

“It is. A pinch or whole fistful of cinnamon might make it somewhat tolerable.”

“I rather like keeping my dinner where it is now.”

“Not even with chocolate chips?”


“Darn. And here I thought I’d be able to give you a piece of my mind.”


Meet the Next Dark Lord

Last week, I trudged through a torturous two-hundred item take-home exam, a five-page paper about psychological warfare that I did only the morning before it was to be submitted due to the bloody exam about Acoustic Linguistics, and another exam. There was supposed to be a presentation for our Japanese class, but that got postponed. That’s why I didn’t have much time to write or dump you with whatever junk my mind came up with at the time and practically abandoned this for a while. But I survived and here I am again, corrupting your sanity to sympathize with what’s left of mine.

As a sort of reward to myself, I spent the whole day bumming around and going through three bags of junk food, two liters of iced tea, and eight episodes of Lie to Me, a series about a group of people solving cases by interpreting body language. It’s an awesome show that shows a lot about the involuntary facial reactions humans have to certain emotions, also known as microexpressions. It would be amazing material to use with anything Tom Riddle-related. Watching with me were my sister and my adorable nephew who alternately gave and taunted me with food.

We were trying to figure things out at the same time as the characters, or at least before the events were explained fully. It’s a pretty fun activity that the family usually engages in when watching things like the Saw Series during one of our family bonding moments. Yes, our idea of family bonding is watching gory films that make us use our heads, while gnawing on junk food, ice cream, or the other siblings’ musings. Charming family, aren’t we? Bouncing back ideas with my sister is one thing. Seeing my barely two-year-old nephew doing the same is quite another.

And so I realized something.

My nephew is a Dark Lord in training.

I swear.

Continue reading

A Weekend Dinner

You’ve always looked forward to weekend dinners.

Of course, why wouldn’t you? It’s the most probable day of the week that we can meet up and enjoy a moment’s respite from all of our worries, all of the stress-inducing activities of the week past. It’s the only day of the week when there is even the smallest reassurance that we will, in fact, get to see and speak to each other for more than just the simple queries and requests for allowances and favors.

The weekend, for all its typical near obligatory demand for our presence at home, was the only time you ever got to see your eldest daughter, after all. Continue reading

Bloody Cute Kids and Their Moody Mothers

Have you ever tried lugging around a ten-liter bottle of water while trying to shield your purse – containing your phone and other unwettable (yes, I know I made that up. Hey, I think I can start contemplating on adding lexicographer to my list of prospective jobs!) items like your other phone and that bag of yummy nachos you lined up so patiently for – with an umbrella that just seems to like you so much that it wants to hug you to death every time the wind blows against you? How about trudging it back by yourself – no bicycles, cars, skateboards, scooters, or any other means of help…like that cute guy you’ve been flirting with in the hopes of him doing just that – in the pouring rain, with waterlogged shoes, to your house some less than two kilometers away?

No? Good for you. I suggest you not try it, unless you savor the thought and feel of blistered palms and fingers. Especially not when the person who asked you to do it in the first place snarls at you the moment you walk through the front door in all your dripping glory, “What the hell took you so long? I couldn’t work because no one was looking after my son!”

That’s right. Her son. Her son. Not mine. I’ve work to do that doesn’t involve a cute-as-a-bloody-puppy-nephew-who-has-the-temperament-of-Fluffy-guarding-the-Forbidden-Corridor-at-Hogwarts, thank you very much. I’ve already fallen behind because she had me looking after her very own two-legged Fluffy him for the past week when her nannies ran off. Why my dearly beloved sadistic sister insists on saddling me with babysitting duty when I can’t even take care of myself properly when she knows full well that kids scare frustrate annoy creep me out don’t appeal to me is beyond me even if the little bundle of cuteness does shut up when I’m the one holding and telling him to stop crying so we can all work with our heads screwed on relatively straight.

It’s a fairly good thing that I probably have MPD or am at least slightly bipolar; the fluffy-headed (ya know, all thick and curly and just so nice? Like Sirius Black in the movie? Even when it says in the books that his hair is supposed to be straight?) siopao-faced little critter doesn’t feel the compartmentalized negativity of dreading to read until two in the morning to partly catch up on time lost and getting up at four for classes. Or if he does, at least he doesn’t acknowledge them. But that’s just plain creepy for a nearly two-year-old.

And I’ve just realized that he’s been staring at me for goodness knows how long. Like he knows I’m typing something about him. And on the off-chance that he already knows how to read and comprehend this kind of writing, oh gawd, that’s just so creepy to even contemplate he can’t even see the monitor. And he’s waving at me and grinning around his oversized bottle. Why does he have to be so bloody cute?

It’s like what he does when he does something to sufficiently peeve me: act so bloody darn cute that I forget why I was gnashing my teeth and nearly tearing out my hair in the first place. He does it especially when either he or his mother is in trouble with me. And it works every bloody time because he’s so adorable. And it’s even more potent if they do a tag-team of puppy-dog eyes. I swear, their antics will be my undoing. I mean it’s just sooo…


Right. Excuse me while I tend to my hand and try to remember what I was trying to rant about in the first place.

I swear. That kid is too cute for my own good. And he learns too well from his mother.