So instead of posting the promised narrative on what my awesome forever classmates did from November of last year until the end of the last semester, I, yet again, post something else. Continue reading
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.
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.”
I have the weirdest hobbies.
It is currently four in the morning, and I am, once again, talking on the phone with my best friend. Having spent four days at home (Classes were suspended due to heavy rains and flooding…and it wasn’t even a storm!) We spent majority of the night insulting each other’s dueling skills in Pottermore and declaring that our Sorting was rigged for the other’s entertainment. (He’s convinced he should be in Gryffindor, I’m the same for Slytherin. In reality, I’m in Gryffindor and he’s in Hufflepuff.) We went through the motions of poking fun at each other’s Houses. It went something along these lines:
“Hah. Lost again. See? You Gryffindors jump too fast into duels. Not like us, we wait patiently for the right time, the right conditions.”
“Don’t you think it’s about time for you to stop with the dueling and potion making? I mean really, your House Points could do without you depleting the already languid flow of yellow gems.”
“…Exactly how many cauldrons have you made explode?”
“Failed the Sleeping Draught again?”
“Gryffindor has rubies, Slytherin has emeralds, Ravenclaw has Sapphires. I still don’t know what gems are inside Hufflepuff’s hourglass [in the Great Hall].”
“I read something about that before. It went something along the lines of, ‘Considering Hufflepuff’s usual House Cup performance, it’s filled primarily with air.'” (No offense to the Hufflepuff House. Just me being my usual snarky self with my best friend.)
But then we hit the inevitable dead end, which wasn’t so surprising, seeing as we had been talking to each other for about five hours straight.
We seriously don’t know how we stay up on the phone that long with no particular topic. We were silent for a whole three calls — around thirty-six minutes or so — and we did nothing but listen to each other’s breathing and reactions to whatever we were doing at the time. I told you my hobbies were weird.
For lack of topics, my best friend and I ventured into the realm of asking hypothetical questions ranging from what we were reading then, to visual novels, and to eroge (yes, my guy best friend is comfortable ennough to discuss eroge with me).
And then, since I was reading a Tom Riddle era fanfic, I decided to ask him a hypothetical question that went something along the lines of, “If you were to fall deeply, madly,
obsessively in love with a Dark Lord in the making, a sociopath (I was reading something about sociopaths, The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout) who is not capable of loving, and is very much in every sense, except time and name and gender, like Tom Marvolo Riddle, with the same mass murdering tendencies, what would you do?” (It was really meant to be a confusing, somewhat run-on statement, and meant to be corrected by the other. Don’t ask. Grammar Nazi giving another Grammar Freak some grief.)
And of course, that led to several more questions.
And a longer discussion.
The conversation has been going on for a good two and a half hours already. And I have several hours’ worth of his fantasies, musings, and suppositions. It would make for good story material.
And, of course, blackmail.
It’s really amazing what boredom can do.
Photo hosted at justgirlythings.tumblr.com
[09July212 ; 0248]
I talked to my best friend tonight.
We’re both in college now, finally, but we haven’t seen hair nor hide of each other in the three weeks that we’ve been in school. I miss the bloody git. And I think, somewhere deep down — really, really, deep down — he misses me too. He denies it, sarcastically agrees, or says something vague alluding to it, but I know he does. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be calling me at random times at night and in the early hours of the morning.
Like right now.
And damn, I just realized how much I really missed having him around — flinging insults left and right, bickering about whether Clerith or Zerith was the Final Fantasy VII pairing, call me a creep for taking pleasure in observing people, and trying to break my neck just for the fun of it.
Just being there, not even really talking as much as knowing that the other is there, kind of really makes my day. Even if my day hasn’t really started yet. Even if I have to face another mound of homework. (I envy his freshman status; he doesn’t get as much
Even if he did end up sleeping on me.
Because if I was going to be honest about it, I’d be all creepy and say I’m reassured to just hearing him breathe at the other end of the line. It proves that he’s really there, real and very much alive, not a figment of my overactive imagination that my mind conjured up on my fifteenth birthday as a consolation gift of sorts.
So go on, Bryan. Just keep sleeping. And breathing. And living. And just being you.
It’s a guilty pleasure of mine just observing these things.