and more of random life information.

'Kay, update on the net front. Apparently, whining every evening at dinner and before my Dad goes to bed and when he wakes up in the morning and whhile he's driving us to school works!! Like a friggin charm. Kasi yesterday, father finally bought me and me bwudder a laptop with WiFi capability. "O ayan ha, wala nang magsasalita pagkatapos nito," said he, looking at me directly. Says he wants a week of silence. And that is the sound of one hand clapping. Ecstatically.

Sabi nila, patience is a virtue. Di lahat ng tao meron nun. So ang advice ko lang ay kung gusto niyong matuto ng patience, maginternet kayo sa CSSP COMPUTER SHOP sa AS. Hindi ka lang matututo ng patience dahil isang oras mo hihintayin magload yung webpage, pero maeexercise ka rin dahil tataas ang blood pressure mo sa kahihintay sa pagload ng screen! At magbabayad ka pa ng trenta!! Panalo!!! Ooodiba? Pagpupugay sa mga cssp na mahaba ang pasensiya, mabibilis ang pulso, matatatag ang puso, at malalalim ang bulsa. Awards to all of you.

Ma'am M o n s d announced she's gonna do her swan song this Friday. Swan songs are for people (animals, actually, specifically, white lake fowl) who are about to die. I don't know if she'll sing for us, or if she'll give us a rendition of Swan Lake (THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!! IMAGINE HER IN A FRICKIN TUTU!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!! washed with Ariel of course...), or if she'll give us a kick-ass speech. Or, she'll just drop dead and die.

We've been doing nothing but bet on random Solita information like what color of pants she's gonna wear today or how many times she'll say "gaga." I had an early winning streak (sky blue sweater and yes, she's gonna look for her eraser.) but methinks of late that I'll have to buy the hustlers a bag of chips at the end of this sem. . . Darn it.

I've just been recently dianosed with lumbar instability. I don't know what the eff that means. But it sounds good. Better than the kidney stone. Which I don't have because the medtech guy made a mistake in divining my ultra-ultra-ultrasound. I mean, all you gots to do is look for rocks in my body and you can't even do it right.

random feats and messy treats

I skipped all my classes this week, a feat for me, since it hardly ever happens. Then again, patapos na yung sem so it doesn't really count.

I've been trying to figure out what causes my migraines. Apart from Cheeto's, and clam chowder, I now believe that sleeping less than four hours a day for two straight weeks makes for a HUGE kick-ass migraine.

I've been reading "The Secret" in snippets, mostly the chapter on relationships and it says if you want a perfect partner in your life you have to act like he's already there. So lately I've been thinking said perfect partner into existence by wishing him good night before I go to bed, telepathically. Keeping the seat beside me empty. Walking with one hand outstretched as if someone's holding it, without seeming like a psycho. I THINK it's working... maybe...

I've scattered my notes, wedged them in between the crevices of my room furniture, trying to see if they can find me. They can. But that's just my Mom, regularly (laboring) cleaning our room, and arranging my chaotic desk at the end of the day. Mostly, I just try to see how thorough she is. She still hasn't seen the Chem notes I stashed in my paint box. 'least, that's the only place I know she doesn't snoop in, so I know where to hide my drugs.

Kidding.

I've been slipping back to my KALAT phase recently, dropping my wallet, my phone, my iPod, my notebook, and my pencil case (in that order) while walking along random spots on campus. I am fortunate that, always, either I hear them fall and hence can find them OR someone picks it up for me and runs after me to give it back. Thank you Jesus.

Family emergencies of late. They whack my schedule.

My schedule is whacked as it is. I'm just waiting for all my classes to end so I can go na to the mountains and declare a three week hiatus. But I know this won't happen. Because if I know the cosmos and its sick sadistic sense of humor, and I do, I'll be having yet another productive sem break.

My favorite quote this week, or this month, is from Maki of Ateneo's M a t a n g l a w i n. (EIC). He was talking about advocacy journalism and how he wants the Ateneans to think about their bayan. heehee, so conio, lets make baka. He said something like, "Hindi lang yung hindi ka nakainom ng Starbucks na may 7.30 class ka pa ang problema sa mundo. Hindi lang yung pagka-emo mo yung problema ng bayan!! And by the way, may BAYAN ka!!" :) hahahahahahahaahhahahahahha!!

We have no more internet at home. Neither do we have a working phone line. My dad says he's "dissatisfied" with PLDT's service. Irreconnect lang daw niya pag chinange ng PLDT yung pangit na sistema niya. At kailan naman daw mangyayari yun?????????? Pag nag end na yung world???

Anyway yun lang naman. more later.

Ang TOFI ay parang Ispageti

Special thanks to Nessa sa pagtulong. :)

ANG TOFI AY PARANG ISPAGETI

Ang TOFI ay parang Ispageti
Education budget pababa,
pababa nang pababa
Matrikula at rental fees pataas,
pataas nang pataas

Ngunit ang tambayan namin pawala,
pawala nang pawala
Sitwasyon ng mag-aaral palala,
palala nang palala

Ang komersyalisasyon palubha,
palubha nang palubha
Dahil sa gobyerno at U.P. Admin na pasama,
pasama nang pasama

Kaya dapat estudyante pumuna,
pumuna nang pumuna
Sa estadong pabaya,
pabaya nang pabaya
Kaya't sumama sa pagkilos upang ang ating hanay ay humaba,
humaba nang humaba

Para ang Budget naman natin ay tumaas,
tumaas nang tumaas
At ang TOFI ay bumaba,
bumaba nang bumaba
At lahat tayo ay sumaya,
sumaya nang sumaya.

And repeat with dance moves. :)

how can you....

sleep at night?

I'll tell you.

You can sleep at night without your father hitting your brother in front of you, and grabbing his hair, taking his things away, after said brother argues back when he is ordered to bed early WHILE he should be properly enjoying his sem break.

Of all the things your sibling could inherit from that man, why did it have to be a temper?

You can sleep at night without glum interruptions from your mother, who wakes you up at midnight because she is firmly squeezing your hand to stay sane. You can sleep without her crying again and again and again, pressing tissues to her face and telling you how she is on the verge of losing her sanity because of her uber-violent and irrational husband. You can do without the blow-by-blow account of what transpired between your parents in the prior two hours that you had dozed off, because it will disturb you and it will worry you and it will sadden you.

You can sleep at night without worrying about the sounds you hear after your Mom gives one last sob and bravely goes back into the master('s) bedroom. Every creak and urgent murmur, every flick of a light switch and heavy footfall makes you think the worst. Is Mom bent over in the kitchen downstairs, crying into her tea? Is Dad going to hit her like he did your brother? Are they arguing? Is he going to enter, huge and malevolent, into your room and tell you harshly to quit crying like his hyper-emotional and unhappy wife and go the hell to sleep?

You can actually sleep at night very, very soundly after crying your eyes out. It's quite relaxing.

How do you wake up in the morning?

Easy.

Your Dad barges in on you at 6:30 and violently slams the door to your room over and over, screaming at you to WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP! IF YOU DON'T I WILL KILL YOU BOTH!! and you can tell that he means it.

It beats the alarm clock by a mile.

You wake up and your Mom is gone, took your hurt brother away to B a g u i o and you just tell yourself the trip was long overdue, you wish them well, and hope this all blows over by the time they come back. She leaves you a note telling you to take care of yourself and your little brother. If I had it my way I wouldn't want them to come back.

How do you go home at the end of the day?

With foreboding that slows your steps and makes you wish you'd learned how to run away, the logistics of it, and that you'd made friends whose places you could crash when you do so. I don't know that many people.

How can you stand the tension left there, every time you hear your father's car pull up on the driveway and he gently raps on the door asking to be let in?

Stay out there you got damn fascist. You fucking asshole.

But you can't say that while you're helping your little brother with his Math homework in the living room. Long division. Division. Divisiveness. Dividing. Divide. How apt.

If you ask me, it's a little too late in the game for this kind of family drama and child abuse, both verbal and physical. Too late in the game to ask how you can fix this thing, this rupture that's made living so inconvenient. I've sort of stopped trying anyway. It keeps me awake at night and asleep in the day and that is something I can't have this week.

In the meantime, you do what you can to sleep at night and stay awake and calmly put-together in the morning and in all other mornings until you can leave this house and the stupid things that happen in it, and you can just start living a nice, normal life like everyone else.

I can bear it. If my Mom could for 18 years, I can bear it.

Though try not to look sad when you're out and about because when you look sad, other people notice you and they start asking you questions and nobody wants that.

The mantra for this day is keep your chin up and just fucking cope.

how can you....

sleep at night?

I'll tell you.

You can sleep at night without your father hitting your brother in front of you, and grabbing his hair, taking his things away, after said brother argues back when he is ordered to bed early WHILE he should be properly enjoying his sem break.

Of all the things your sibling could inherit from that man, why did it have to be a temper?

You can sleep at night without glum interruptions from your mother, who wakes you up at midnight because she is firmly squeezing your hand to stay sane. You can sleep without her crying again and again and again, pressing tissues to her face and telling you how she is on the verge of losing her sanity because of her uber-violent and irrational husband. You can do without the blow-by-blow account of what transpired between your parents in the prior two hours that you had dozed off, because it will disturb you and it will worry you and it will sadden you.

You can sleep at night without worrying about the sounds you hear after your Mom gives one last sob and bravely goes back into the master('s) bedroom. Every creak and urgent murmur, every flick of a light switch and heavy footfall makes you think the worst. Is Mom bent over in the kitchen downstairs, crying into her tea? Is Dad going to hit her like he did your brother? Are they arguing? Is he going to enter, huge and malevolent, into your room and tell you harshly to quit crying like his hyper-emotional and unhappy wife and go the hell to sleep?

You can actually sleep at night very, very soundly after crying your eyes out. It's quite relaxing.

How do you wake up in the morning?

Easy.

Your Dad barges in on you at 6:30 and violently slams the door to your room over and over, screaming at you to WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP! IF YOU DON'T I WILL KILL YOU BOTH!! and you can tell that he means it.

It beats the alarm clock by a mile.

You wake up and your Mom is gone, took your hurt brother away to B a g u i o and you just tell yourself the trip was long overdue, you wish them well, and hope this all blows over by the time they come back. She leaves you a note telling you to take care of yourself and your little brother. If I had it my way I wouldn't want them to come back.

How do you go home at the end of the day?

With foreboding that slows your steps and makes you wish you'd learned how to run away, the logistics of it, and that you'd made friends whose places you could crash when you do so. I don't know that many people.

How can you stand the tension left there, every time you hear your father's car pull up on the driveway and he gently raps on the door asking to be let in?

Stay out there you got damn fascist. You fucking asshole.

But you can't say that while you're helping your little brother with his Math homework in the living room. Long division. Division. Divisiveness. Dividing. Divide. How apt.

If you ask me, it's a little too late in the game for this kind of family drama and child abuse, both verbal and physical. Too late in the game to ask how you can fix this thing, this rupture that's made living so inconvenient. I've sort of stopped trying anyway. It keeps me awake at night and asleep in the day and that is something I can't have this week.

In the meantime, you do what you can to sleep at night and stay awake and calmly put-together in the morning and in all other mornings until you can leave this house and the stupid things that happen in it, and you can just start living a nice, normal life like everyone else.

I can bear it. If my Mom could for 18 years, I can bear it.

Though try not to look sad when you're out and about because when you look sad, other people notice you and they start asking you questions and nobody wants that.

The mantra for this day is keep your chin up and just fucking cope.

how can you....

sleep at night?

I'll tell you.

You can sleep at night without your father hitting your brother in front of you, and grabbing his hair, taking his things away, after said brother argues back when he is ordered to bed early WHILE he should be properly enjoying his sem break.

Of all the things your sibling could inherit from that man, why did it have to be a temper?

You can sleep at night without glum interruptions from your mother, who wakes you up at midnight because she is firmly squeezing your hand to stay sane. You can sleep without her crying again and again and again, pressing tissues to her face and telling you how she is on the verge of losing her sanity because of her uber-violent and irrational husband. You can do without the blow-by-blow account of what transpired between your parents in the prior two hours that you had dozed off, because it will disturb you and it will worry you and it will sadden you.

You can sleep at night without worrying about the sounds you hear after your Mom gives one last sob and bravely goes back into the master('s) bedroom. Every creak and urgent murmur, every flick of a light switch and heavy footfall makes you think the worst. Is Mom bent over in the kitchen downstairs, crying into her tea? Is Dad going to hit her like he did your brother? Are they arguing? Is he going to enter, huge and malevolent, into your room and tell you harshly to quit crying like his hyper-emotional and unhappy wife and go the hell to sleep?

You can actually sleep at night very, very soundly after crying your eyes out. It's quite relaxing.

How do you wake up in the morning?

Easy.

Your Dad barges in on you at 6:30 and violently slams the door to your room over and over, screaming at you to WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP! IF YOU DON'T I WILL KILL YOU BOTH!! and you can tell that he means it.

It beats the alarm clock by a mile.

You wake up and your Mom is gone, took your hurt brother away to B a g u i o and you just tell yourself the trip was long overdue, you wish them well, and hope this all blows over by the time they come back. She leaves you a note telling you to take care of yourself and your little brother. If I had it my way I wouldn't want them to come back.

How do you go home at the end of the day?

With foreboding that slows your steps and makes you wish you'd learned how to run away, the logistics of it, and that you'd made friends whose places you could crash when you do so. I don't know that many people.

How can you stand the tension left there, every time you hear your father's car pull up on the driveway and he gently raps on the door asking to be let in?

Stay out there you got damn fascist. You fucking asshole.

But you can't say that while you're helping your little brother with his Math homework in the living room. Long division. Division. Divisiveness. Dividing. Divide. How apt.

If you ask me, it's a little too late in the game for this kind of family drama and child abuse, both verbal and physical. Too late in the game to ask how you can fix this thing, this rupture that's made living so inconvenient. I've sort of stopped trying anyway. It keeps me awake at night and asleep in the day and that is something I can't have this week.

In the meantime, you do what you can to sleep at night and stay awake and calmly put-together in the morning and in all other mornings until you can leave this house and the stupid things that happen in it, and you can just start living a nice, normal life like everyone else.

I can bear it. If my Mom could for 18 years, I can bear it.

Though try not to look sad when you're out and about because when you look sad, other people notice you and they start asking you questions and nobody wants that.

The mantra for this day is keep your chin up and just fucking cope.

how can you....

sleep at night?

I'll tell you.

You can sleep at night without your father hitting your brother in front of you, and grabbing his hair, taking his things away, after said brother argues back when he is ordered to bed early WHILE he should be properly enjoying his sem break.

Of all the things your sibling could inherit from that man, why did it have to be a temper?

You can sleep at night without glum interruptions from your mother, who wakes you up at midnight because she is firmly squeezing your hand to stay sane. You can sleep without her crying again and again and again, pressing tissues to her face and telling you how she is on the verge of losing her sanity because of her uber-violent and irrational husband. You can do without the blow-by-blow account of what transpired between your parents in the prior two hours that you had dozed off, because it will disturb you and it will worry you and it will sadden you.

You can sleep at night without worrying about the sounds you hear after your Mom gives one last sob and bravely goes back into the master('s) bedroom. Every creak and urgent murmur, every flick of a light switch and heavy footfall makes you think the worst. Is Mom bent over in the kitchen downstairs, crying into her tea? Is Dad going to hit her like he did your brother? Are they arguing? Is he going to enter, huge and malevolent, into your room and tell you harshly to quit crying like his hyper-emotional and unhappy wife and go the hell to sleep?

You can actually sleep at night very, very soundly after crying your eyes out. It's quite relaxing.

How do you wake up in the morning?

Easy.

Your Dad barges in on you at 6:30 and violently slams the door to your room over and over, screaming at you to WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP! IF YOU DON'T I WILL KILL YOU BOTH!! and you can tell that he means it.

It beats the alarm clock by a mile.

You wake up and your Mom is gone, took your hurt brother away to B a g u i o and you just tell yourself the trip was long overdue, you wish them well, and hope this all blows over by the time they come back. She leaves you a note telling you to take care of yourself and your little brother. If I had it my way I wouldn't want them to come back.

How do you go home at the end of the day?

With foreboding that slows your steps and makes you wish you'd learned how to run away, the logistics of it, and that you'd made friends whose places you could crash when you do so. I don't know that many people.

How can you stand the tension left there, every time you hear your father's car pull up on the driveway and he gently raps on the door asking to be let in?

Stay out there you got damn fascist. You fucking asshole.

But you can't say that while you're helping your little brother with his Math homework in the living room. Long division. Division. Divisiveness. Dividing. Divide. How apt.

If you ask me, it's a little too late in the game for this kind of family drama and child abuse, both verbal and physical. Too late in the game to ask how you can fix this thing, this rupture that's made living so inconvenient. I've sort of stopped trying anyway. It keeps me awake at night and asleep in the day and that is something I can't have this week.

In the meantime, you do what you can to sleep at night and stay awake and calmly put-together in the morning and in all other mornings until you can leave this house and the stupid things that happen in it, and you can just start living a nice, normal life like everyone else.

I can bear it. If my Mom could for 18 years, I can bear it.

Though try not to look sad when you're out and about because when you look sad, other people notice you and they start asking you questions and nobody wants that.

The mantra for this day is keep your chin up and just fucking cope.

how can you....

sleep at night?

I'll tell you.

You can sleep at night without your father hitting your brother in front of you, and grabbing his hair, taking his things away, after said brother argues back when he is ordered to bed early WHILE he should be properly enjoying his sem break.

Of all the things your sibling could inherit from that man, why did it have to be a temper?

You can sleep at night without glum interruptions from your mother, who wakes you up at midnight because she is firmly squeezing your hand to stay sane. You can sleep without her crying again and again and again, pressing tissues to her face and telling you how she is on the verge of losing her sanity because of her uber-violent and irrational husband. You can do without the blow-by-blow account of what transpired between your parents in the prior two hours that you had dozed off, because it will disturb you and it will worry you and it will sadden you.

You can sleep at night without worrying about the sounds you hear after your Mom gives one last sob and bravely goes back into the master('s) bedroom. Every creak and urgent murmur, every flick of a light switch and heavy footfall makes you think the worst. Is Mom bent over in the kitchen downstairs, crying into her tea? Is Dad going to hit her like he did your brother? Are they arguing? Is he going to enter, huge and malevolent, into your room and tell you harshly to quit crying like his hyper-emotional and unhappy wife and go the hell to sleep?

You can actually sleep at night very, very soundly after crying your eyes out. It's quite relaxing.

How do you wake up in the morning?

Easy.

Your Dad barges in on you at 6:30 and violently slams the door to your room over and over, screaming at you to WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP! IF YOU DON'T I WILL KILL YOU BOTH!! and you can tell that he means it.

It beats the alarm clock by a mile.

You wake up and your Mom is gone, took your hurt brother away to B a g u i o and you just tell yourself the trip was long overdue, you wish them well, and hope this all blows over by the time they come back. She leaves you a note telling you to take care of yourself and your little brother. If I had it my way I wouldn't want them to come back.

How do you go home at the end of the day?

With foreboding that slows your steps and makes you wish you'd learned how to run away, the logistics of it, and that you'd made friends whose places you could crash when you do so. I don't know that many people.

How can you stand the tension left there, every time you hear your father's car pull up on the driveway and he gently raps on the door asking to be let in?

Stay out there you got damn fascist. You fucking asshole.

But you can't say that while you're helping your little brother with his Math homework in the living room. Long division. Division. Divisiveness. Dividing. Divide. How apt.

If you ask me, it's a little too late in the game for this kind of family drama and child abuse, both verbal and physical. Too late in the game to ask how you can fix this thing, this rupture that's made living so inconvenient. I've sort of stopped trying anyway. It keeps me awake at night and asleep in the day and that is something I can't have this week.

In the meantime, you do what you can to sleep at night and stay awake and calmly put-together in the morning and in all other mornings until you can leave this house and the stupid things that happen in it, and you can just start living a nice, normal life like everyone else.

I can bear it. If my Mom could for 18 years, I can bear it.

Though try not to look sad when you're out and about because when you look sad, other people notice you and they start asking you questions and nobody wants that.

The mantra for this day is keep your chin up and just fucking cope.

how is terrorism like love?

TERRORISM IS LIKE LOVE.
IT CANNOT BE DEFINED.

heehee!

akalain mo bang magkakaroon ng quotable quote sa isang forum sa H u m a n S e c u r i t y A c t? hahahah right up there with ralf's jokes: "because terrorism, after all, is in the heart."

Note: The context of the quote. S i r A r a o was trying to explain the vagueness of the definition of terrorism, and he said it as a joke. :)

how is terrorism like love?

TERRORISM IS LIKE LOVE.
IT CANNOT BE DEFINED.

heehee!

akalain mo bang magkakaroon ng quotable quote sa isang forum sa H u m a n S e c u r i t y A c t? hahahah right up there with ralf's jokes: "because terrorism, after all, is in the heart."

Note: The context of the quote. S i r A r a o was trying to explain the vagueness of the definition of terrorism, and he said it as a joke. :)