beingbeaple

I think it drives us insane. As human beings we are born with the innate advantage (Or is it a disadvantage?) to feel compelled to lead the flock, to excel, to stand out. According to Father Stephen Abuan, who was the presider in our Baccalaureate mass, everyone has insecurities. Whether consciously or unconsciously these insecurities push us to do the things we do. Even if most of us would rather die than admit it at one point in our lives we have probably felt jealous of someone prettier, someone smarter, someone more popular for reasons we cannot fully comprehend or dare to explain - even to ourselves.

Uurgh. After all the years I’ve been studying under a values-based curriculum this is the only conclusion I can come up with???

But no seriously, there is a reason behind every thing, right? My experience, as well as the experiences of the people around me, have triggered this little blog entry of mine. I doubt I’d be able to get my point across to you cause after all I’ve been thinking about this since I was in fifth grade and the answer AND the real question haven’t even hit me yet. But… I dunno, I just feel like whacking this out into the world, hoping this would somehow make me feel better.

I do hope I’m not getting anyone into trouble.

All my life - well, the days I spent with my consciousness anyway - I always felt that I had to compete. No one told me to excel but I always wanted to stand out, to be noticed, to be talked about, to be cared for. People say that my feelings stem from my being an only child; in other words, I’m KSP and selfish outside our house because in my family I’m used to getting all the attention, all the food, EVERYTHING. I hate it actually and I seriously am trying to psychoanalyze myself but to no avail. KSP lang jud ko.

It came to the point that I even became envious of one of my best friends. At first it was just admiration. I admired her for being so tough and emotional at the same time, I admired her for being so cool and sweet, I admired her for standing up for her principles and being popular at the same time. I loved the way everyone gravitated towards her like little moths do to a lamp and I especially appreciated her sense of fun. Then something ticked in my head and blew off a fuse. All of a sudden I found myself feeling as if I had to compete with her.

Upon retrospection I think I actually did try to compete with her. Unconsciously. As expected, I lost. After all, it is HER game, HER style, HER life - not mine. It left me being more confused, more lonely, more torn that before. It’s as if I’m carrying the whole world on my shoulders but there’s a gaping hole inside me. I dunno how to describe it but I feel so….. different. Oooooh, and the song Pilgrim’s Theme says it perfectly: I’m ‘Tired of taking roads someone else designed’….

As a class activity people sent each other letters yesterday. I got only two letters (in our class of thirty-six only two bothered to write for the activity) and those letters made me think back and wonder if I had done the right thing. Was I right in straying away from the people who mattered most because of reasons I thought were right? Was I right in being passive and letting everything just pass by? Was I right in spending Senior year the way I did? As always it pains me to think and I still refuse to reflect upon it until now. Hurts too much.

My advice to all those reading this is to know which things in life matter most. My friends matter a lot to me but now, because of a stupid thing called competition, I think I’m losing them and I highly doubt I can still get them back. My family matters to me but now it seems as if my mother has some sort of heart problem. I miss him and everything that happened within those six months but more than that I miss the friend I used to have in him. What if I actually forgave what he did and buried the hatchet? Would I still be blogging on my own now or would I be jumping with excitement over some barkade gimmick we could have planned out for tomorrow?

Aw shucks, it’s really all too much. My faith is all I have now and I don’t even know if I’m a good Christian. I just want to loved, to be loving and to be lovable. Is that really too much to ask?

I’m so confused. I wish I could talk to him. Or her. Or any of them. But I haven’t even got the guts to dial his number, I don’t even have the dignity to catch her eye anymore and I don’t even know how to behave around them anymore.

Oh, and I think I’m really off my element right now. So ta-taa for now! Care to leave a comment?

Ever since I realized the hair strands (yes they were strands) on my legs were too long and thick and numerous for comfort I have always felt a bit of a feeling resembling animosity towards them. I often dreamed of the time when I would be allowed to laser them off my epidermis. Okay, maybe not laser but wax. Either way, I was ecstatic when I finally convinced my mother that if I wore stockings with my hair situation (for graduation) she allowed me to get rid of them. Yip yap! So as we strolled through Watson’s I picked the cheapest hair removal treatment off the shelf – it turned out to be almost the same thing as the one Lucy Lovering used in Mates, Dates and Inflatable Bras.

The process of using the thing I bought (I’m not mentioning the brand cause celebrities don’t mention brand either!) turned out to be a major pain in the LEGS. It was really messy too with honey-like goop scattered all over. So after waxing three fourths of my left leg with that thing (I don’t know why I shaved the left leg first – when I take a bath I soap the right leg first….. Hmmm….) I gave up, got a shave and shave the rest off. And of course I couldn’t go with a hairless left leg and a hairy right leg so I shaved all the hair off my left leg too.

Sniff, sniff. I miss all the hair. I should have named them. Carly 1st, Carly 2nd, Carly 3rd…. Carly nth. But I never gave them a chance to prove themselves worthy. Waaaaahh.

Anyway, on less shallow topics we had our recollection today. It was a day of tears, laughter and stampede-inducing photo shoots. We watched a lot of really interesting films, documentaries and slides that served as some ‘rude awakening’ for all my batch mates and me. The saddest one, the one which made me saddest anyway, was the picture of a malnourished African child about to be eaten by a vulture. Despite the fact that it won a Pulitzer Prize (I think) it was still so depressing. Very depressing, in fact, that the person who took the shot committed suicide three months after taking that picture – out of depression, they say.

My favorite part of the recollection was the affirmation circle activity. It was organized for a limited number of people only so instead of forming a circle we walked around the whole session hall instead. I swear a lot of people cried, myself included. It was just so tough saying goodbye to these people you’ve known for years; I’ve been in KHS for nine years and it ain’t easy to just hop on a plane and settle down in UP. Everyone was crying, I was saying sorry to my pals over and over and we were just plain emotional. Even when it was time for the next activity, confession, I was still sobbing my heart out.

Ooh. Talk about the devil. I had fun sharing my sins. No, not because I’m sadistic or evil…. It’s just that the priest was really great, giving great advice and encouraging me to reflect deeper. I really had a great time listening to him and I hope he sensed my gratitude. I got confused with his advice though. I mean, I knew I had to do THAT all along but it just never seemed so easy to do. It’s like HERCULEAN. Super duper major.

I still had a great day. I came home with a happy heart – made obvious by my overactive mouth – and I’m really looking forward to college. It’s sad to say goodbye but it’s imperative that we do so. If we don’t we shall never achieve closure and we will be carrying excess baggage for the rest of our lives.

Poof!

with I hope all of you already know what a scribe is cause it is the topic of my blog for today. In almost every prototype publication I’ve tried to work on I’ve always used that as my title. I guess I’ve always imagined myself as a scribe… You know, ancient, with a quill, donning one of those long robes, important in matters of the society… Lolz.

Anyway we had our final Campus Observer party yesterday - final for us Seniors, I mean. That might have been the last time the Senior staff could bond with Ma’am G and work with the Juniors for the paper. See, we’ve handed the ‘key of responsibility to them’ and now we’re officially fired.

It was a happy-slash-sad celebration. We actually had the guts to have a kiddie party in Jollibee and thank God we did cause we had a rocking great time! But it became all so sad when it was time to say goodbye - ugh! I suck at goodbyes! Did you know I even nearly cried when Gokusen ended?!?

Either way the CampObv will always be a part of moi. I can’t imagine myself not being the EIC and not having met Ma’am Grace. I mean, gosh, it’s already an invaluable part of my life! I don’t know what I’d be without it.

SO goodbye to deadlines and chasing after people. Goodbye to clutter and unprecedented computer failure. Goodbye to climbing over from the SCC room and getting in through the windows. Goodbye to great friends, to my surrogate Mummy and to a part of myself - the part I might as well be leaving behind. Goodbye, CampObv!

Agh. Agggh. Agherama! So corny!

Poof!

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY:

All things start with something.

Ultimately they must end with something as well.

Thanks to Fantabulosa Kristina Yamba I have acquired new pictures for my collection. Here are a few photos from last Saturday’s outing at Tablon!

Each time I’ve attempted to scratch my back this afternoon I’ve felt a great deal of pain. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent the whole day trudging around under the sun, exposing my precious skin to its harmful rays. Gee, I think the sun child has developed a sunburn!

Although I’m not a member of SamFil - the Filipino Club in KHS - I sort of tagged along during their fellowship this morning. Good thing I did because the experience I shared with them on this fateful day really was quite memorable. We went all the way to Tablon where, after quite some time of trying to figure out which path we were going to trek, we started crossing a nine rivers.

Okay, that’s exag. It was just one river but we had to cross it nine times cause it winded through our course.

The river seemed very shallow when we just looked at it but the moment we actually started crossing it, we started to feel the current pushing us hard. Some even landed splat on the river bed while others held on to their buddies (we adopted the buddy-buddy system) so tight as though their lives depended on their partners.

It was a very fun hike although I do wish I had the sense to bring some normal slippers and not my mother’s favorite sandals - my feet were sore from stepping over the rocks on the river.

You might ask why we went there in the first place. Like I’ve said we went there for the fellowship. Sir Ryan, SamFil moderator, had been to that place before and he liked his own adventure so he called his group up and invited them to go see the place for themselves. And actually Igbabalay (I think that’s the name of the place) is known for its Our Lady of Guadalupe Shrine. That was our destination for the fellowship.

Every year, people are attracted to that Shrine. It’s a perfect place to visit, especially during the Holy Week, because the walk to the Shrine itself - crossing the river and climbing those steep stairs - can already be considered some sort of sacrifice. Besides, the caretakers of the Shrine are actually very hospitable people. When we got there they invited us to join their mass and their novena, and when lunch time came round they actually told us we could use one of their cottages! (Of course, the cottage looked very windblown after we were through using it. Tee hee!)

After the fellowship, a few other girls and I went to one of our friends’ house to change for the picture taking at Eco-Village. Of course we could have gone directly to Eco from Tablon but since the pics were for the Yearbook we wanted to look our best - shucks! So there we were in Xandra’s house, panicking, asking each other stuff like "Hey, who has powder?" and "Can somebody lend me some lip gloss?"

I’m not very girly but to be honest, being in Xan’s room, surrounded with all those beauty paraphernalia was overwhelming.. *waves hands in the air*

So we went to Eco, thinking we were late. We were late but it turns out no one really minded our tardiness that much. And after a few very hurried shots for the Beaconlight, we got into Jen’s car and went to our separate destinations.

I got my first dose of Orbitz’s Buko Pandan 16 oz and I’m blogging in a Net Cafe. Good way to end a jam-packed day, huh?

Poof!

BTW, thanks very much to every one who made this day very successful. To Virn and Sir Ryan and the rest of SamFil, thanks for the invite! To my buddy Karla, thanks for holding me when I felt like I was gonna fall! To my partners-in-crime Xandra, Virn, Seanne, Jeanne and Jee Ann, thanks for the fun time! To the Hontiveros Family, thanks for the hospitality! To Jen, thanks for the generosity! To TJ and the rest of the Beaconlight staff, thanks for the tolerance! To my mom, thanks for every thing - and the Orbitz!

Mwaaaah! Lurve ya all guys!

It’s not as if we’re doing anything in school these days. We just have to memorize - or familiarize, in teacher-speak - the flow of the graduation rites like when to move the little string on the toga and when to stand up or raise our hands so we won’t make fools of ourselves during the actual ceremony in the audi (All together now: The Audi!!!!!!!!!!!)

Only a few of us have work left: the class treasurers who have to collect money for the prom pics, the picture taking for the yearbook, and the recollection; the secretaries of the different clubs and orgs who are tasked to prepare a year-end narrative report; and the band for the farewell song. All of us are rather screwed up in our own business: the people keep forgetting to pay the treasurers, I don’t know how to make a narrative report, and basically, the whole batch is having trouble changing the lyrics of our original farewell song into something more dramatic.

See, our song was fine enough in the beginning (Jas made it, by the way, and Lloyd, Alex, Gio, JV and the others are working on the chords and beats) but the admin is still encouraging us to come up with something more… erm… I don’t know. Something else, I think.

And yes, they want us to put in the lyrics our optimism about what lies ahead of us and our determination to stand up each time we fall. Hint: Think Go the Distance.

Oooh…. and I just realized I have a very slow reaction time. This fully explains why I died more than a hundred times the first time I played Counter Strike during Alex’s birthday years and years and years ago - does anyone remember? It also explains why, in playing the PC version of HP and the Chamber of Secrets, I freaked out when I got to the actual chamber, deleted my game from the memory slots, and gave up.

How’d I know I have a slow - Or is it long? - reaction time? I tried to join a game of Heart Attack. lolz. For those who know the game and excel at it, I salute you!

Poof!

P.S.

In case anyone is wondering why I changed my perfectly fine profile pic into a logo for the Candy Teen Blog Awards I just want to tell you I did that because in the rules for the contest it says you’ve got to post the digital sticker - proof that you’re a nominated blogger - on your template. But I didn’t know how to edit my background - seeing that HTML language is gibberish to me - so I changed my pic instead. Pretty sassy, huh?

You remember the cat that keeps falling off alcoves? Well, it fell off again. And this time it actually fell into our property. So yes, my family feels responsible for it. We have given it milk - the milk I refuse to drink, anyway *no one touches my Milo!* - and a chicken wing but it still refuses to eat or drink anything! Grr!

My parents and I have taken turns trying to push the kitty’s head into the milk pot but it still fights back! And what’s worse is that it looks blind… I mean, I can’t maintain eye contact with it cause I can’t see its eyes…

Oh geesh, I wish its mother would hurry up and claim it. It’s pitiful listening to it wailing every night, every afternoon, every day! I feel so responsible for its safety! Now I know how my parents feel each time I don’t eat a lot!

Poof!

And……….

It’s official. I’m going to UP! I just pre-registered!

The terms autobiography and biography used to confuse me. I kept wondering which one was created by a writer to talk about himself and which one was written by someone to talk about another person. I’ve had a shrewd idea of what an autobiography was supposed to be, but it never really made an imprint in my memory until my English teacher asked the whole graduating batch to write one.

So there I was, trying to compile my almost-sixteen years of existence into one page of special paper. I even considered checking my old diaries for research information (since I barely remember what I used to do when I was younger) but then I realized I didn’t really want anyone to look that deeply into my past. For one reason, it’s all in the past. For another reason, I thought it was too sad for me to read about.

Although it’s the president’s job to collect (and distribute) most of the stuff for our class, Ma’am thought it would be better if it were a girl who collected the autobiographies of each student. Since I am next-in-line I was granted the duty of filing all of my classmates’ works into plastic folders. And, yeah, I had to stay in school longer – just to wait for those who hadn’t passed their autobiographies yet – but in the end, I learned a lot of things during my extended stay.

When I got home from school this afternoon, after another round of waiting in vain for the missing stuff I had been assigned to pass, I saw my card collection sitting on top of the kitchen table. The container was there, but with the lid off. I saw my diary – remnants of my junior year - sitting pretty near the top of the pile and I prayed no one read it. Feeling a slight thrill of foreboding, I got the pile and ‘sifted’ through it. The first thing to catch my attention was my diary, the cute little pocketbook my best friend Karla had given me during Christmas last year. My writing was cramped and very different from the writing I sport now, but the way the words flowed out of the pen was the same as ever. Same old sarcastic me, with the penchant for talking to myself as though I’m listening. (To be honest, I don’t listen to myself and I even end up realizing the truth behind my own feelings months after the incident talked about took place.) The pages gave me a brief recollection of last year, from the trip to Del Monte to that fateful Game KNB episode, and even allowed me to glimpse souvenirs from the past like the tissue paper I once wiped my tears with and that clipping from the Philippine Daily Inquirer about people born on April 19.

And out of all the tiny lines of random ramblings written there, one line caught my attention.

It was located in the entry written on the first day of 2006. It said something like, Well, the new year is here and I do hope it’s far different from the last one. And it struck me as ironic – how things could turn out the way we wished them to… only with a slight twist to the tale.

To be honest, I don’t know why I even bother to keep diaries. It’s not the same as keeping a blog – because I maintain my blog mainly to satisfy my need to channel my creative juices somewhere outside school. Just like Aimee, there are some things I would much rather keep to myself and to the innards of my journals, far away from the prying eyes of the people of the world. In my entries, there is just so much passion, so much emotion that is worlds different from the casual way I write my blogs. And I’m not sure if it’s abnormal, but there are parts of my own life I still can’t bring myself to read.

On a happier note, I think my blogs are an improvement compared to my diaries. Although I still succumb to mixtures of self-pity and PMS in some of the entries, in general I feel I’m happier when I blog than when I reflect and jot down stuff in my Big D. Maybe it’s because I prefer typing words than writing them?

Poof!

P.S. Has anyone heard of the Candy Teen Blog Awards? Check out www.candymag.com for more details!

P.S. 2 And honestly, Alex, I thought your blog was very nice! And I’m not being plastic! I already get into so much trouble being too real, as it is!