2004-02-02 1:45 pm
My new blog
Visit me here:
http://www.livejournal.com/~danii06
PS: Eve dearest, make sure you add me in my contact list. I really need to hear from you. hehehe
2004-01-19 3:17 p.m.
I'm transferring to LJ
I'm not continuing this blog anymore, in case anyone didn't notice. Diaryland has the worst timing in the world. Whenever I feel like divulging the sordid details of my long-corrupted life, the diaryland system always fucks up. When its available again, I'm no longer in a talkative mood. There was even a time when I typed a really long entry and the whole thing didn't show up.
Well, that's it. I'm still fixing my settings in the LJ but I'll post the final url here when I'm done.
I guess this will be my second to the last post here.
See you in LJ soon.
2003-12-19 11:54 a.m.
APO Oblation run
Went to see the APO (Alpha Phi Omega) Oblation Run last Tuesday in UP. I had a bloody four and a half hour break and my comrade needed the company. Her professor, a respectable looking man, actually wanted them to see it. So being the naturally considerate friend that I am, I accompanied my dear comrade and stood among the horde of students in the steps of Palma Hall, waiting for the poor boys to bare their erm… assets (or lack of asset thereof). I even texted my dad that I was going to see some anatomical action in my minor age and he replied "Keep you eyes open." Ha.
My God, all the hype for a bunch of nude, mask-donning men, losing their dignity as part and parcel of fraternity initiation. They weren’t even that big. And all the joas… god. You’d think they never saw a naked guy in their life. I swear I never saw anyone, not even a girl, shriek so embarrassingly loudly. One of them even dared to push me aside to get my very nice view of their rear ends. My friend had to physically restrain me from stalking over and giving the absolute, colossal nerve a piece of my mind. (But she didn’t see me stick out my foot just as le wannabe femme fag was strutting his deplorably-clothed ass-let down the steps. * cackles * )
Someone advised me that picture-taking was a no-no. When I got there, ABS-CBN had already set up shop and a sea of Nokia 3650s and digicams were already poised for a few minutes of trigger happiness.
The same someone told me that laughing at possibly laughable… moments… would warrant a knife at my throat. The oblation rite is a serious rite that demands respect for its relentless adherence to a tradition that spawned monumental fame.
Whatever. Obviously, someone was misinformed, coz seriously, if everyone who felt like laughing fought the urge, the whole Palma hall would explode in a united eruption of circum-ambient gas.
Heehee. Oblation runs. I wonder what would happen if Ateneo had such a tradition…
2003-11-29 6:35 pm
I’m back… again…
Heehee, it seems like I have a knack for returning to blog-dom and going AWOL after writing a long-overdue entry. Such as this one.
I know several people who celebrated their birthdays this November. Wait, wrong diction. As recently pointed out to me, not all people celebrate their birthdays. Let me rephrase. I know several people whose birthdays fall on a November something. There’s Kim, my best friend, whose 18th birthday passed without much incident—just a quiet gathering of friends, with the usual music, cards and food—but for what its worth, there wouldn’t be much difference if Kim threw a regal debut. Then there’s Shreint, whose 16th birthday passed with MUCH incident, I’m sure, although I’m not a witness to it. There’s Puffy, whose 18th birthday incident is the same as Shreint, including the bit where I wasn’t a witness even though I’m invited to both their birthday shindigs. There’s Beau, whose 18th birthday passed with really NO incident (at least no incident that I’m aware of). Finally, there’s DJ whose 17th birthday may have passed with or without incident (I couldn’t really know, I haven’t contacted her in ages)
There are lots more of course, but it’s either I don’t know them or I don’t remember them (in which case, would make me a very bad friend—let’s just hope they won’t be reading this entry anytime soon)
So why am I talking about birthdays all of a sudden? What’s the big deal about ‘em? I really don’t know but I once had a conversation with one of the mentioned birthday people up there about birthdays and surprisingly, there were some unusually potent insights. It went something like this:
Me: Your birthday won't be unknown forever you know. Eventually, someone will find out.
Him: I doubt it.
Me: Why don’t you want anyone to know when your birthday is?
Him: Does it matter if they know?
Me: I dunno. Shouldn’t it matter?
Him: No. Birthdays are overrated. It’s just another day. So you turn a year older. So legal age ka na. So what? I don’t see the point of making a big deal over something that everyone experiences.
Me: ... That makes sense. When I was in high school, the whole class sings the celebrant the birthday song at least thrice a day. Every time a new teacher comes in, he/she is told of the celebrant’s birthday. Then they greet you all over again and say stuff like “So, san ang libre natin?” or “Danii, friends tayo ha? Sama ako sa celebration!” I hated it. I forbade my friends to remind anyone of my birthday. Anyone who greets me publicly is rewarded the glare of death. It’s not that I’m anti-social or anything, it’s just that I’m a low-profile kind of girl.
Him: Like I said, overrated. Especially with the celebration and gifts thing. Gifts are always intended to have a mutual bearing.
Me: I wouldn’t say always. Most of the time maybe, but not always.
Him. Whatever.
Me: So it’s sort of an indirect guilt-trip disguised under the name of “goodwill?”
Him: Exactly.
Me: Well, just for the record, I don’t expect anyone to give me gifts on my birthday. Not even my parents. Although my birthday can never go without food. But then again, so does any day.
Him: Obviously. I don’t expect gifts too, even though I receive some every birthday. But as most of humanity are materially-centered, we can’t expect everyone to have the same opinion.
Me: Well, there are other intentions. For some people, gift-giving is common courtesy. A practice of convention. Or in some cases, self-imposed obligation.
Him: Courtesy, convention, obligation. Hn. Well, actually, yes, those are equally logical reasons. Though I’m still not bending backwards to concede to any of them.
< pause >
Me: … Well, if it’s not a big deal, then why wouldn’t you just tell us when your birthday is?
Him: Because I don’t want to. If you want to go to intel measures to find out, then go ahead. Though I really can’t see the point.
Me: I’m not doing anything. It’s not my place to pry.
Him: Good thing you know.
Me: Yeah. It’s not my birthday after all…
There. Of course, our actual conversation wasn’t exactly the same, nor was it in pure English, but as I have a poor memory, I just decided to relay it in English, to better capture the general idea. And I can’t remember which of us said which at some areas but we more or less were expressing the same ideas anyway so I suppose it wouldn’t matter that much.
So what’s the big deal about birthdays? I couldn’t say, for the matter is always subjective. Personally, I don’t think we should make a big deal about them. But in fairness, I do think, they’re not just any day. There's a difference. It's not something I'd go door-to-door with but then again, it's not something I'd just casually dismiss. Somewhere in between. You know?
.......... I'm not making much sense am I? * sigh *
Well, let me just say this: Birthdays happen only once a year. It is a reminder that one has been given life. It may not be a big deal for the celebrant, but in one way or another, birthdays are something to be grateful for. It means you survived another year. It means you can continue living. And if by any means, I can’t make it special for myself, I can make it special for other people, if I so wish. And if that’s the case, somehow, that cancels out the “ordinary” notion that I started out with.
I never said I agreed with Beau.^___^
2003-11-29 3:34 pm
A GAME-BOY. Youre like a tomboy without the love of
sports. Reality sucks, but as long as you have
your electronics you feel you can cope. Time
goes unnoticed when youre locked in your room
hooked up to your Nintendo, rocking to your
favourite collection of guitar-driven albums.
Your virtues: Intelligence, sense-of-humour,
individuality.
Your flaws: Inability to cope with real life,
action-freak spirit, reclusive nature.
EXTRA: Your personality type is the only one on
this quiz that would enjoy
www.life-blood.vze.com Check it out!
What kind of girl are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
2003-10-29 9:27 p.m.
What kind of sex scene do you write?
brought to you by Quizilla
~See? Contrary to popular belief I do not prefer BDSM to realistic carnal exploits...
2003-10-29 2:43 p.m.
I'm back...
I realized I haven’t blogged for more than a week now. Blame it on my ISP and hectic-as-rush-hour-traffic schedule. I’ve been flitting in and out of the house for seven days straight, four of which to do my parents’ bidding, and the remaining three, to answer the call of social activity. I’ve been deprived of the time for intellectual masturbation. So if I happen to rant about nonsensical things out of due frustration, you know why.
Okay. I really have to get this out of my system.
I can’t understand my parents. Or rather, I don’t want to understand them. I’m afraid of what will become of me. They’re on the roll about life insurance. I’m the one who studies in a university chock-full of rich kids. Turn the wheels in their head and boom! Their daughter is now an official Cocolife agent.
I attended insurance trainings, insurance courses, and took a licensing insurance test and passed with high marks. Technically, I’m not supposed to undergo these things because I’m still a minor, but that didn’t stop my parents from stealing six whole days of my life and used it for unprofitable dullness. For six days, I had to bear with isolation (I’m the youngest and the only student in the group, everyone else had income tax brackets), freeze in the training room, wake up before dawn and suffocate among the mass of humanity pushing to get a seat in the MRT. (North Ave station literally has people spilling out the stairs. I kid you not.)
And what for? To ensure me another chunk of miserable responsibility for the rest of my life, that’s what. And if I contest, they’d make me feel all guilty and tell me that if I still want to study in my current school, I gotta cough up some dough. So fine. I went. And I hated every minute of it. I was especially incensed by being forced to sacrifice a particular Friday activity which I had marked in the calendar for two weeks, one that my parents agreed to, no less, and then come Monday of that week, they tell me to scrape off all plans for Wednesday to Saturday. Urrrgghhhh. It’s a good thing I have an even temper or I might have ended up saying things I wouldn’t normally let my parents think I’m capable of saying.
It’s not like I’m a whiny, ungrateful self-absorbed git who couldn’t care less about her family’s financial burdens. I mean, yeah, I’d like to help out in the finances, seeing as I don’t pay pennies to study in Ateneo but beating life insurance out of my more financially-endowed friends is more than I should handle. Note, I said should, not can. There’s a difference. I feel that no matter how noble my parents’ intentions are, I shouldn’t be doing their work for them. Selling life insurance requires plenty of social skills, the art of bullshit, a lot of TIME and constant nagging. My supposed “targets” are my friends. I don’t want to lose their respect by incessantly berating them to buy insurance so I can finance myself. As if I don’t have enough going on in my life for the moment.
I’m a carefree, vibrant youth in the pink of health whose math and Filipino grades are hovering above the toilet. My daily routine involves risking her life crossing the perilous Quezon Avenue (which btw, still doesn’t have traffic lights on the most dangerous pedestrian lane).
I’m a math dunce whose course requires more math subjects than my patience will allow.
I’ll help my parents out financially, but please, if I had a choice, I’d rather get a job in McDonald’s as the girl who asks “Go large, sir?” I have better things to do than to risk alienating friends by spouting out conversational lines such as “If you die this very moment without being insured, your family will both have financial and emotional burdens to cope with. Spare them half the trouble and buy life insurance today! That way they can mourn your unexpected decision to join the choir invisible without worrying about the money to pay for the patch of earth they’re gonna stuff your corpse in.” I do not have the heart to introduce morbid ideas to my peers then attempt to persuade them to buy security afterwards.
But now that I think about it, what choice do I have? I’m still under my parents’ rule, no matter how independent my way of thinking is. I still depend on them for my basic needs. It’s not my choice, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it. I could kick and scream and throw objects in my rage but in the end, I’ll find myself grudgingly obeying anyway. I may be free to express myself but I am not free to actuate it. I have too many debts, they have too many sacrifices. I have guilt, they have the power to induce it. I have what it takes to study in the most prominent universities in the Philippines but they have the decision to let me stay there or transfer me to a less financially-demanding institution. I cannot comprehend everything they out me through, nor can I discern if what they really do is best for me, but I wouldn’t question it. It has always been that way.
* sigh *
If anyone out there knows a way to raise money without having to knock down doors and beating charity of inhabitants, please say so. But for the meantime, I’ll just have to suck it up and play the obedient daughter.
For the record though, if anyone out there is interested in insuring themselves, tell me please. I’ll post details later. ^^
2003-10-18 8:37 p.m.
Uh... can anyone give me a road map for Christmas?
I must be losing it. I spent exactly one and a half hour doing nothing but walk around the mazes of Ayala Ave, Greenbelt, Glorietta and Landmark, wondering where the hell the damned exit is... For someone who's been commuting for the past seven years, having the sense of direction of a blind crab is a real tragedy.
I would've liked to look at it as an unexpected exercise but I don't feel good when I realize I'm lost. I hate losing direction. As if I don't put up with enough troubles during commuting. There was this guy who was staring at my butt the entire time in the MRT. Urgh. Slimy lout.
Give me directions the next time we meet.
2003-10-17 3:10 p.m.
You are Form 7, Gryphon: The Wyrm.
"And The Gryphon displaced the balance of
the world in his favor. With grace and
control, Gryphon deceived mankind and ruled
over civillization. But even he realized that
all good things must come to an end."
Some examples of the Gryphon Form are Satan
(Christian) and Baphomet (Assyrian).
The Gryphon is associated with the concept of
control, the number 7, and the element of wind.
His sign is the gibbous moon.
As a member of Form 7, you are a very in control
individual. You maintain your coolness in most
situations and always seem to be prepared.
Though some may say you are a bit of a control
freak, you know that you really do make the
best leader even if others can't see it.
Gryphons are the best friends to have because
they have a positive influence on people.
Which Mythological Form Are You?
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2003-10-17 3:00 am
Friendster...
In a span of three days, I have received fifteen emails, four text messages and roughly twenty oral references all urging me to join the bandwagon of "Friendster." When I went to CTC, my vision was invaded by monitors all plugged in to Friendster. In my row and the row behind me, I and this one poor guy making a paper are the only exceptions. Then I check my HG yahoo groups and the first message I read is "Calling all Friendster people!" Everywhere I turn, it's Friendster. Well, that's a given since CTC which is rapidly becoming Ateneo Friendster Central. But still, it's a little too much Friendster for anyone without the slightest "Friendster" consciousness.
Tangenang Friendster yan.
I'm sorry, I'm not just into the the idea of virtual "collection" of friends. I'm not into much online phenomena, though I'm sorely tempted to get my own Ragnarok account. I do not intend ro insult the Friendster community, but I'm just really sick of hearing about nothing else. These are just my feelings for the subject, gaddamet, so to friendster people, understand that first before you get your balls in a twist.
From what I've heard, joining Friendster is as simple as posting your pic on the net and waiting for people to post their comments. How positively stimulating. The austereness of human enjoyment never ceases to amaze me. What was that word they use again? Oh yeah, testimonials. Testimonials. Fancy word for something that is merely defined as "Say something nice about me or I'll mail you a ticking package." Jeez. It's sad how one has to make a testimonial on another person just to have the honor of being considered a "friend."
Where have our morals gone? Has the word "friendship" been devaluated to a commodity that can be bought with a few, well placed words? No matter how one looks at it, Friendster would still seem like a human pokemon game - (gotta catch them all!) Is quantity prized over quality now? Why can't people be contented with just interacting with friends socially? I mean, for god's sake, you see these people everyday, do you also have to be reminded of them when you're in the solitary world in front of your computer? Why the heck am I making a big deal about something I'm so fed up of hearing about anyway?
*pauses*
*hears the distinct sound of readers clicking back and mutterings about how rabid nonsensical ranting is viral*
*blinks*
Oops. Sorry about that. *sheepish grin* I mean no offense, honestly. Any offense is purely coincidental. I have a tendency to go overboard with my rantings, especially when I'm on a roll. But that doesn't mean I've changed my mind. No way. Not me, the perpetuator of all things defying convention. I'll cheer for Kobe Bryant before I sit well with the ordinary.
PS: to this Dante guy...
I dunno what the flyin' fuck you mean by "hello by the way who wants to know about your life u saddo" but because I'm really nice, I shall provide an answer to your vague query. First, a quote from Fyodor Dostoyevsky:
“Love thyself above all because everything in this world is founded on self-interest.” (took this quote from dear Faust's blog, btw.)
I'm narcissistic, so sue me. I love myself, and I welcome attention as well as the next dude, but I do not force people to remark on my psyche. There's a difference between narcissism and hunger for praise.
And who wants to know about my sick sad life? Fellow narcissistic bloggers.
'tis the mystery of collective narcissism-- it cancels itself in masses yet expands individually. Go figure. But if that notion is too complex for your mind, just check out my tag-board sweetie.^^
