Topics, Pride, Psychological S&M performed on one’s own psyche

This is a post that started with a draft of a draft that seemed to make sense at the time but descends to mindless drivel reflecting the lack of the necessary creative juices in this person’s head.

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For the sake of making a new post

Since I can’t really think of anything to write in my blog, I just fiddled with the templates.

Since I can’t really think of anything to write in my blog, I am reverting to my original writing style which is just plain rambling.

 Since I can’t really think of anything to write in my blog, I am just going to say how much I’ve missed rambling online, typing on a germ-filled keyboard, wasting precious time, ignoring certain physical needs like eating, and other stuff like that.

Since I can’t really think of anything to write in my blog, I am now honestly out of ideas to fuel this since-I-can’t-think-of-anything-to-write-in-my-blog train of thought. Which doesn’t mean that this post ends here.

I miss writing. I miss rambling. It’s actually the only literary skill I have. My writing self-image is that of a pretentious a-hole thinking he’s a great Mozart of letters and he’s just too lazy to unleash his talents on the world when he’s actually quite average or even worse than average. This image gets slammed into me whenever I try to do decent writing like academic papers. On average, the average student can make an average paper in about 6 hours. That paper would meet the minimum page requirement (an average of about 10 pages), be complete with citations, and would sound very dignified and academic. When I try to do academic papers, I’d first waste a bajillion hours reading online forums, webcomics, and blogs of people I am intimidated of. I’d open a separate window for online sources, searching through the dungheap which is the internet for something useful. I’ll open a word processor, type the usual header details, and then stare at the blank screen for about 15 minutes and then break down in tears, realizing that I know zilch about the topic. I’d then curse my inability to bullshit and then cut myself. After that, I’d go to class and learn about late submissions. I feel happy for a little glimmer of hope (or some other cliche for hope), think of actually doing the paper, blow it off, then “forget” all about it. And that is why I have so many blank grades in my records. Wow.

That was quite a long and senseless paragraph. And just like when I was new to blogging, I’m ending this post abruptly. Without warning. Suddenly. In the blink of an eye. Snap. Some overused line depicting a very short period of time.

God damn I missed this

This Ting, whatta mediocrity

Tomorrow will add another detail to the monument to mediocrity known as my life. Tomorrow I go to another exam that I have not in any way prepared for. Tomorrow features an exam on comparative politics focusing on France, the UK, Germany, and Italy. Tomorrow I will show that I know nothing about these states. Tomorrow I will try to bullshit the inevitable essay in hopes of scraping a 3.0 that I don’t really deserve.

Right now, I have crammed a little about UK, and have started reading up on the political development of France. Right now, I am blogging and not cramming in order to detoxify before trying to cram international politics into my head again. Right now, I am depressing the hell out of myself. Right now, my eyes want to pop out of their sockets because of caffeine in my system and the strain of staring at this LCD screen. Right now, I want to be able to do a telekinetic storm that will kill the damn noisy kids in this internet cafe. Right now, I’m thinking about how unlikely I’ll be able to pass Comparative Politics. Right now, I’m depressed but not enough to commit suicide. Right now, I think I’m being pretentious and artsy-fartsy again.

I think I can understand what emo is about now

I don’t post song lyrics but right now I can really relate to Rachel Yamagata’s “Under my Skin” 

Would you please get out from under my skin?
For I can’t begin this yet
And I don’t know what my intentions are
They’re speaking in a different tongue
And, deep inside, I’m not as tough as I seem
But I won’t let you know
Until it’s right, I’m gonna stay my distance, and you should go
Oh, would you please get out
I’m not as strong as I seem, but I won’t let you know

I’ve never felt this before. I haven’t related to a song in such a long time. I still find it hard to believe that Typecast’s “Will You Ever Learn” got to me. To be honest, those lyrics nearly brought me to tears. Right now, I also see myself on the receiving end of those words since I’m also guilty of whatever.

This is still me, withdrawing until I can get close to perfect perspective. 

Possible sign of Dissociative and/or Multiple Identities?

I never really think. Sometimes I think that I have a mental version of Zaphod Beeblebrox’s sunglasses. Zaphod has a special set of sunglasses that turn his vision pitch black when something bothersome is in sight. I think I have somebody in my brain that does that to my thoughts, filtering them so I’m constantly in a state of blissful oblivion. I have yet to talk to this Gatekeeper self, his mental kung-fu is strong and I like going with the flow of whatever he thinks I need to think.

When this Gatekeeper does let important stuff through his filter (mostly important depressing stuff), a majority of my being is eaten up with the processing sequence. Usually I look aloof and I have this weird dopey aura, but when I have to think hard about something, I still look aloof but I have this depressed air about me. When I’m like this, I can get really anti-social, my wallet also needs to be far from from my reach since I indulge in emotional spending.

 (sudden, sloppy transition coming up.)

Anyway, I am sorry for being too vague and hard to read. When you see me like this, don’t automatically assume that it’s your fault. Do assume the benefit of the doubt please. But then right now, I guess you were a part of it indirectly. I said INDIRECTLY, most of the blame still falls on me. I don’t think straight and, strangely, think too much at the same time.

I need to think. I also like thinking. I’m thinking if I need to cool down or if I need to work with my emotions whirling inside me. I don’t want to do anything hasty so I’ll keep everything in check for now. I know I seem like an ass but I need solitude to think.

Forgive me for being a robot running on Pentium 1. 

Ting is a pretentious artsy-fartsy prick

I have got to stop buying classic books at Booksale. Or this probably means that I have got to stop and think if the book I’m buying is at my current level. I just splurged on books again and among the books I’ve bought are Solzhenitsyn’s One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, and Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. I don’t think these books are of the kind meant to be read for leisure, like on a commute, or waiting in line.

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NOTE: JEAN CLAUDE IS STUPID

I’m a mess. I am seeing some very stormy moments coming up for me. What makes it worse is that it’s my fault and I know it.

Never really one to go for direct attacks, I guess I’d rather let the talks begin by someone approaching me about what would be written here.

I am not enrolling for practicum. I am not eligible to take a practicum. I do not have enough units. I have lapsed 4s and Incompletes. I was not enrolled for the second semester of school year 07-08. I have made a mess of my academics and am now delayed by a year at least.

I’m not taking drugs, I’m not in bad company, and me being in the chorale has nothing to do with it. This was brought about by my stupid habit of procrastination. See me banging my head against a wall.

How did it happen?

Members of the Chorale can apply for a scholarship, as long as they have good, clean grades (meaning no 5s no 4s no Incompletes). By the time I could apply for the scholarship, I had an incomplete in Psych 10, "Journey to the Self", one of the easiest subjects I’ve taken. I didn’t take care of it right away so I wasn’t able to get the scholarship. I tried telling this to my aunt who sponsors me and my siblings’ education but I gave up trying to convince her that there wasn’t anything I could do. I just decided to take things into my own hands.

At that time, I was working as an all-around office boy at a recruitment agency. I was paid P18 an hour. I figured that if I save up my allowance and live off of my measly salary, I could pay for this semester. Not a bad plan actually but I ran into some problems regarding my tendency to sabotage myself.

1.) I did not apply for a student loan, making payment a hell of a process. I didn’t even try to see if one of my professors could vouch for me.

2.) I was too proud/ashamed to ask my friends for help.

3.) I don’t trust my family too much to let them in on this.

4.) I didn’t act on this fast enough.

5.) I practically ditched my job because of my crappy work habits.

So, I know, I’m an idiot right? I don’t know if any of my family or anyone who knows my family reads this blog, but I think it would be better if I let this out right now. 

When secret identities become known

Lately, my older sister is in pretty much the family concern spotlight. My aunts have found out that my sister is *gasp* smoking, drinking, and clubhopping and they're concerned that her grades might slip because of the said activities. They must really be worried since they've told my dad (who's known all along) about it and because they're also trying to contact my mom in Canada (Mom also knows, my sis and my mom are practically galpals). I guess it's the shock that she has an active nightlife, or that they have no idea what my sister is actually doing, that has them so concerned.
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I am soooo… emo

I never got to watch the Sugarfree concert last Saturday. Long story short, we got to the Music Museum and were faced with the sign: SOLD OUT.

Yes, very depressing, I know.

It's the reason why I got myself a copy of Robert Jordan's "The Great Hunt", the second book in the Wheel of Time series. God, I'm such a comfort shopper.

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Sugarfree plus a 32-piece Orchestra? Good. Perfectionist emo-whining plus Misguided ideas? Bad

Oh Joy!

My sister just borrowed her friend's laptop for an indeterminate amount of time. Happiness! Bliss! Yes, it's bound to be taken away once her friend needs it, or they've found a buyer for it, and some of the keyboard's keys aren't exactly working (like three of the arrow keys and the Esc key;  but COME ON! I have access to the Internets! And a Word Processor! Try being computer deprived for three weeks and let's see if you won't think of selling your body for a decent computer. Well, I wasn't serious about that anyway. I think.

So… I won't go about doing overdue academic papers but instead resume my pleasant contributions of SPAM to the internet.

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The unthinkable has happened

The world can be such a bitch mother that's fond of irony.

Gah…

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Relaxation is gewd, guilt is bad

I know everybody goes through it, and all the planning in the world won't take care of it, it's just that what my sister told me about it had my eyes bulging out of their sockets. I'm talking about stress by the way.

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Identity Crisis my ass!

For quite some time I've been saying that I'm going through an identity crisis or that I was thinking I was. Turns out, I was just thinking I was. After reading a chapter in a child-and-adolescent psychology book, I've found out that what I have is a diffused identity. I haven't exactly experienced an identity crisis since I haven't really confronted my personal problems. I'm just stuck in the middle of stuff doing nothing which pretty much explains what I've been doing for the past 4 or 5 years.

There's an episode in the 7th season of Gilmore Girls where Rory breaks down and cries about how she doesn't know what to do after college. How she was always able to see what was coming for her all her life and now all she sees is fog. I'm pretty much feeling that way except that I've always mostly gone with the flow of other people's wishes. I pretty much hate being that way but I'm scared of having no one to blame when my life goes to hell because of my own actions.

Yes, I've read Richard Bach and a whole bunch of literature meant to inspire you to make you live your own life. Their ideas are nice, but I'm too lazy to live them.