Hello! It seems I have someone who actually reads this. Or maybe it's just spam page view. Anyway, I want to add a dropdown menu (amongst three pending posts) for the pages list on the tabs, so I can merge my writings into just one dropdown tab for poems, etc., and maybe insert another tab. I know I was thinking about it, but I forgot. Quotes. It's about quotes like from Lang Leav and berlinartparasites and other famous old philosophers and what I think about them. Maybe even a quote of the day widget to the right. Not bad, eh?
So last night I had a nightmare. I woke up at home - or what I believed was home -- no, I was already awake then. My batchmate told me that the colloquium begins in a few minutes and I don't know what to do. I heard ma'am Melit saying something, but I can't remember. Of all the teachers, she had to be the judge. And I had nothing to present. That's what made it a nightmare.
But I already woke up before that to my Mom's voice. Except in my imagination it changed to a little girl's voice. I think reading too much r/nosleep stories are finally getting into me. I wish I was this enthusiastic in reading the Bible.
The nightmare tells me though, that somehow my slacking off is haunting me. Somehow. I don't know. I have always been the odd one, being a little bit too hardworking, doing a little bit too much, giving a little bit more than what was ever required of me. Everyone always hated it. That's how it is in the Philippines - you are always expected to be mediocre. Anything more than that and you'd either be a savior or a jerk: a savior to help them all the time, or a jerk who would think only of himself.
Everyone hates it except my mom, who never thought it was enough. She would always push me harder, against all irrationality just to satisfy her own desires. All the while I was being dragged to mediocrity by the powerful social pressures in my younger years.
I coped by living a lie- no, it is more accurate to say that I wasn't living at all.
Why am I telling all this? I guess I've had no one to talk to for so long. I mean talk as in 'big talk,' not just small talks and whatnot.
Let's just move on to my day. We cleaned the lab a bit, but it's naturally dusty in the area especially as long as the dust from construction is left without greenery to clean the air. That, and the smoke from the thousand unrelenting trucks and jeepneys and cars that pass every day through CP Garcia.
Then I ate the Jollibee Glazed Chicken. Not bad, I say. I still prefer the KFC Spicy Gangnam though (although its name is so bad).
I went to FCM to have a checkup. After dawdling around Facebook using the very slow but free globe mobile data for around 30 minutes, we finally entered doctor Muñoz' room. He had a cabinet on his left where filled (or littered, if you're one of the more annoying atheists) with lots of religious paraphernalia - a Jesus altar on the upper central shelf, some statue I don't recognize to its left, a crucifix to its right and a pope francis portrait below that crucifix. Below the altar is a soothing sound system that repeats every less than 10 minutes (it repeated thrice, I think, in the 20 minutes or so that we stayed there).
My mother was apparently allergic to cefalexin, so she was given different medication for her cough and colds. Doesn't help a bit with her irrationality though. More on that later.
So this swollen piece of skin on my underarms is apparently a follicle inflammation or something. And this pair of dark, rough, callous skin near my left ankle is apparently due to repetitive trauma/pressure, which I now know to be from indian sitting on a perfectly fine, old, wooden chair. No tumors. Thank God.
Now my mother is getting all frantic and hysterical because my brother doesn't want to upload his (required) video diary to UVLE yet (he would NEVER in his life make something like that). Add to that all three losses in ranked provisional games and it's really, really annoying (Filipino grammar) even though you try to understand her being sick and, well, a mother. Sick mothers are more incomprehensible than the relationship between gravity and quantum mechanics, and more terrifying than a galactic storm. But they're also more frail than twigs, such that you cannot just... I don't think there's an English expressiobln for this: di mo sila matiis. My dad's handling things so though both mom and brother are unruly, and the air is filled with tension (at least outside the room; I'm sitting on the bed typing this on my phone and letting the cool, #1 breeze of our Camel electric fan chill my head through my half-mucus-filled nose), the appearance of peace and quiet at least predominates. Aside from her coughing.
So there; that's pretty much my day.
Ah yes! I also finished the Duolingo Spanish tree, but no one noticed it. Or no one cared (I would have said 'gave a fuck' but I realize I'm reading too much of those and should refrain for now). I think if I was still that dick and feeler who denyingly flirted with everyone, I would have many others who would comment on that. But no. I guess friends are hard to find. Not that I don't have any, it's just that somehow this 'friend' idea I have is more like that of a companion, a girlfriend, a wife. It's not that no one fits; I just think people are too selfish about love. Then I realize that I'm also being selfish, because I want my lover to love just as much as I love her. And I'm also immature. So I want to rationalize these things before I commit.
Anyway, I'm happy about it, completing the tree. I'll just end this here in a happy note, though in reality I'm still annoyed. Auf Wiedersehen!
So last night I had a nightmare. I woke up at home - or what I believed was home -- no, I was already awake then. My batchmate told me that the colloquium begins in a few minutes and I don't know what to do. I heard ma'am Melit saying something, but I can't remember. Of all the teachers, she had to be the judge. And I had nothing to present. That's what made it a nightmare.
But I already woke up before that to my Mom's voice. Except in my imagination it changed to a little girl's voice. I think reading too much r/nosleep stories are finally getting into me. I wish I was this enthusiastic in reading the Bible.
The nightmare tells me though, that somehow my slacking off is haunting me. Somehow. I don't know. I have always been the odd one, being a little bit too hardworking, doing a little bit too much, giving a little bit more than what was ever required of me. Everyone always hated it. That's how it is in the Philippines - you are always expected to be mediocre. Anything more than that and you'd either be a savior or a jerk: a savior to help them all the time, or a jerk who would think only of himself.
Everyone hates it except my mom, who never thought it was enough. She would always push me harder, against all irrationality just to satisfy her own desires. All the while I was being dragged to mediocrity by the powerful social pressures in my younger years.
I coped by living a lie- no, it is more accurate to say that I wasn't living at all.
Why am I telling all this? I guess I've had no one to talk to for so long. I mean talk as in 'big talk,' not just small talks and whatnot.
Let's just move on to my day. We cleaned the lab a bit, but it's naturally dusty in the area especially as long as the dust from construction is left without greenery to clean the air. That, and the smoke from the thousand unrelenting trucks and jeepneys and cars that pass every day through CP Garcia.
Then I ate the Jollibee Glazed Chicken. Not bad, I say. I still prefer the KFC Spicy Gangnam though (although its name is so bad).
I went to FCM to have a checkup. After dawdling around Facebook using the very slow but free globe mobile data for around 30 minutes, we finally entered doctor Muñoz' room. He had a cabinet on his left where filled (or littered, if you're one of the more annoying atheists) with lots of religious paraphernalia - a Jesus altar on the upper central shelf, some statue I don't recognize to its left, a crucifix to its right and a pope francis portrait below that crucifix. Below the altar is a soothing sound system that repeats every less than 10 minutes (it repeated thrice, I think, in the 20 minutes or so that we stayed there).
My mother was apparently allergic to cefalexin, so she was given different medication for her cough and colds. Doesn't help a bit with her irrationality though. More on that later.
So this swollen piece of skin on my underarms is apparently a follicle inflammation or something. And this pair of dark, rough, callous skin near my left ankle is apparently due to repetitive trauma/pressure, which I now know to be from indian sitting on a perfectly fine, old, wooden chair. No tumors. Thank God.
Now my mother is getting all frantic and hysterical because my brother doesn't want to upload his (required) video diary to UVLE yet (he would NEVER in his life make something like that). Add to that all three losses in ranked provisional games and it's really, really annoying (Filipino grammar) even though you try to understand her being sick and, well, a mother. Sick mothers are more incomprehensible than the relationship between gravity and quantum mechanics, and more terrifying than a galactic storm. But they're also more frail than twigs, such that you cannot just... I don't think there's an English expressiobln for this: di mo sila matiis. My dad's handling things so though both mom and brother are unruly, and the air is filled with tension (at least outside the room; I'm sitting on the bed typing this on my phone and letting the cool, #1 breeze of our Camel electric fan chill my head through my half-mucus-filled nose), the appearance of peace and quiet at least predominates. Aside from her coughing.
So there; that's pretty much my day.
Ah yes! I also finished the Duolingo Spanish tree, but no one noticed it. Or no one cared (I would have said 'gave a fuck' but I realize I'm reading too much of those and should refrain for now). I think if I was still that dick and feeler who denyingly flirted with everyone, I would have many others who would comment on that. But no. I guess friends are hard to find. Not that I don't have any, it's just that somehow this 'friend' idea I have is more like that of a companion, a girlfriend, a wife. It's not that no one fits; I just think people are too selfish about love. Then I realize that I'm also being selfish, because I want my lover to love just as much as I love her. And I'm also immature. So I want to rationalize these things before I commit.
Anyway, I'm happy about it, completing the tree. I'll just end this here in a happy note, though in reality I'm still annoyed. Auf Wiedersehen!
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