cool.
that's the word.
Went to Daniw earlier. and when Ate Sally opened the front door, the first thing that I saw was the tarp. The Daniw tarp. The tarp I created last week and the one I revised while Reming was in the air. It looks good on the screen, but it's better when printed. I remember Angel telling me, "Nelly, I am not allowing that"... I put a picture of her with her hand up holding a green flag and she was open-mouthed, so I revised it and put a more favorable picture, beside the caption, hip and happy... The cork board design was cute and I'm so glad the pictures didn't pixelate.
And then when I entered the Oratory for Meditation, Fr. Ted Santiago wasn't there, but a new priest. I dunno who he was, and it was the first time I saw him in Daniw. He seemed so serious. But when the meditation started, we can't help but laugh...
For the record, he was the only person I know who commented on the picture of Our Lady inside the Oratory. But he commented not badly, in fact, he said, "Our Lady is the most beautiful of all ladies. But (then he glanced at the painting) she doesn't really look like this, because she looked so surprised here". and we all laughed.
He told us that Jesus means God saves.
So those slogans out there "Jesus saves" is really "God saves saves" Redundant. huh.
and his facial expression alone made us laugh.
And then, he said that some people asked God, "Lord, why is my life like this...why am I suffering"...followed by the other sentiments...
then God will answer: Wala lang.
(*laugh*)
But, of course, God wouldn't do that.
I know.
For everything serves a purpose. (it's so cliche, but it's true...)
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
me and my pencil dreams
Second semester is officially on. It goes without saying that I’m gonna say hello to semi-sleepless nights again and byebye Batangas bed for the next five months. Yeah, I go home every weekend, but it feels better to know that I can stay on my bed for 10 straight hours without my readings reminding me ‘You got to read me Nelly, otherwise…’
But enough of my complaints… I got great sleep, not to mention, great TV moments for the past two weeks (my shortest sembreak ever!). And as always, my architecture frustration, my so-called pencil dreams, gets in me again.
I remember what my Journalism professor told me a year ago, “Ms. Hernandez, don’t be afraid of being stuck”. She’s a former editor of a national daily (uh-oh, I’m not so sure…). She said that she decided to teach in UP because she doesn’t know what’s happening to UP Journalism graduates. She asked the members of our J101 class to introduce ourselves, and why or why not we wanted to be a journalist, or what do we really wanted to do with our lives. I told her, yes, I wanted to be a journalist, but I wanted more to be an architect than to be a writer. I know it’s not a good thing to hear, especially when she dedicated her time teaching us – future Filipino journalists. I said that an architect’s life is a bit stagnant, unlike a journalist’s life full of actions, risks, adventures, the sort of helloworldwhatdoyouhaveforme environment, and that if I decided to become an architect, I will stay in the university for the next three years (I’m supposed to graduate next year) because shifting to Arki from MassComm is like jumping from Pluto to Mercury. I will be stuck in the university and after college, I might be stuck in my drafting room with my drafting board and my pencils.
But looking at my life right now, I am not afraid to be stuck, really. I realized I wanted to be an architect, but I can be a journalist at the same time. I remember my PE classmate who asked me during a campout,
“Ano college mo?”
MassComm.
“Ahh…Anong course mo?”
Journalism.
“Wow! Astig ka pala!”
He said that full of enthusiasm and sincerity. And I just smiled.
Astig?
Astig.
I think Astig isn’t appropriate to be used for a journalist. I only used the words to describe rockstars or or the architects of those Amazing Vacation Homes in Discovery Channel. But my classmate equated Journalism with being Astig.
Cguro nga, Astig ang Journ. Astig ang MassComm.
Maybe I’m too focused on how to get an Architecture degree and be a Palafox associate that I forgot I have a journalism life to face, to live. I didn’t list Journalism as my first choice for no reason. Maybe when I was in high school, I still see the being Astig of this profession, the way my professor or my PE classmate do.
I’m not saying goodbye to my so-called pencil dreams, because when I come to think of it, Journalism is a pencil-utilizing profession as well, just like architecture. The only differences are that I’m writing in a pad of ruled-paper, not in a drafting or tracing paper or in blueprint, and I’m not drawing buildings and constructing floor plans, I’m building words, and constructing stories. I may not deal with T-squares and lots of esquisse along the way, I deal with people, people who have life, people who have stories, and people who will tell me that a journalist’s life is really astig.
(I’m still at the College of Magical Creatures (CMC) and I still don’t have the courage and motivation to jump from Pluto to Mercury. )
But enough of my complaints… I got great sleep, not to mention, great TV moments for the past two weeks (my shortest sembreak ever!). And as always, my architecture frustration, my so-called pencil dreams, gets in me again.
I remember what my Journalism professor told me a year ago, “Ms. Hernandez, don’t be afraid of being stuck”. She’s a former editor of a national daily (uh-oh, I’m not so sure…). She said that she decided to teach in UP because she doesn’t know what’s happening to UP Journalism graduates. She asked the members of our J101 class to introduce ourselves, and why or why not we wanted to be a journalist, or what do we really wanted to do with our lives. I told her, yes, I wanted to be a journalist, but I wanted more to be an architect than to be a writer. I know it’s not a good thing to hear, especially when she dedicated her time teaching us – future Filipino journalists. I said that an architect’s life is a bit stagnant, unlike a journalist’s life full of actions, risks, adventures, the sort of helloworldwhatdoyouhaveforme environment, and that if I decided to become an architect, I will stay in the university for the next three years (I’m supposed to graduate next year) because shifting to Arki from MassComm is like jumping from Pluto to Mercury. I will be stuck in the university and after college, I might be stuck in my drafting room with my drafting board and my pencils.
But looking at my life right now, I am not afraid to be stuck, really. I realized I wanted to be an architect, but I can be a journalist at the same time. I remember my PE classmate who asked me during a campout,
“Ano college mo?”
MassComm.
“Ahh…Anong course mo?”
Journalism.
“Wow! Astig ka pala!”
He said that full of enthusiasm and sincerity. And I just smiled.
Astig?
Astig.
I think Astig isn’t appropriate to be used for a journalist. I only used the words to describe rockstars or or the architects of those Amazing Vacation Homes in Discovery Channel. But my classmate equated Journalism with being Astig.
Cguro nga, Astig ang Journ. Astig ang MassComm.
Maybe I’m too focused on how to get an Architecture degree and be a Palafox associate that I forgot I have a journalism life to face, to live. I didn’t list Journalism as my first choice for no reason. Maybe when I was in high school, I still see the being Astig of this profession, the way my professor or my PE classmate do.
I’m not saying goodbye to my so-called pencil dreams, because when I come to think of it, Journalism is a pencil-utilizing profession as well, just like architecture. The only differences are that I’m writing in a pad of ruled-paper, not in a drafting or tracing paper or in blueprint, and I’m not drawing buildings and constructing floor plans, I’m building words, and constructing stories. I may not deal with T-squares and lots of esquisse along the way, I deal with people, people who have life, people who have stories, and people who will tell me that a journalist’s life is really astig.
(I’m still at the College of Magical Creatures (CMC) and I still don’t have the courage and motivation to jump from Pluto to Mercury. )
Thursday, November 09, 2006
of manual enlistment and math class
at last.
got a math2 class this semester.
so happy!
hahahaha.
what more can I say?!
got a math2 class this semester.
so happy!
hahahaha.
what more can I say?!
Thursday, October 05, 2006
fusing FUSE. these artsy-fartsy days
In two weeks time, the sem will be over.
But,I need to find my way out of the semi-sleepless nights again.
We watched Stanley Kubrick's 2001: Space Odyssey as the finale of our Film Genre class. Liked it. But here's the thing, I did not understand the plot, all I know was there's a HAL 9000 computer saying that it has a perfect operational record. And the whole 10 minutes before the film's ending, I need to watch an iTunes-vizualisations-like sequence, which made my head ache.
I became our J121 magazine's Design and Layout Artist, meaning, I need to finish the layout before Oct. 11, which is cool actually, because it's the only thing I am willing to do right now.
We need to come up wth a website for our J117 class. That would mean dealing with tables with scroll bars and artsy-fartsy background again, like what we did last time.
I need to trace the evolution of the youth-oriented films in the country for my final Film paper. I dunno what made me proposed that topic to Sir Campos, but he approved it anyway.
I need to get a high score in my final C120 exam, because my midterms was in the 'curly grade' zone.
I need to reflect on shopping malls as metaphor of postmodernity for my C141 paper.
Good thing the TS online marketing days are over.
For now, sleep is a luxury. Or will I let it be that way? of course not.
But,I need to find my way out of the semi-sleepless nights again.
We watched Stanley Kubrick's 2001: Space Odyssey as the finale of our Film Genre class. Liked it. But here's the thing, I did not understand the plot, all I know was there's a HAL 9000 computer saying that it has a perfect operational record. And the whole 10 minutes before the film's ending, I need to watch an iTunes-vizualisations-like sequence, which made my head ache.
I became our J121 magazine's Design and Layout Artist, meaning, I need to finish the layout before Oct. 11, which is cool actually, because it's the only thing I am willing to do right now.
We need to come up wth a website for our J117 class. That would mean dealing with tables with scroll bars and artsy-fartsy background again, like what we did last time.
I need to trace the evolution of the youth-oriented films in the country for my final Film paper. I dunno what made me proposed that topic to Sir Campos, but he approved it anyway.
I need to get a high score in my final C120 exam, because my midterms was in the 'curly grade' zone.
I need to reflect on shopping malls as metaphor of postmodernity for my C141 paper.
Good thing the TS online marketing days are over.
For now, sleep is a luxury. Or will I let it be that way? of course not.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Real Life
Sometimes, bad luck slap us when we least expect it.
And I was slapped, during the most inconvenient time.
Last Wednesday morning was our Final presentation for the TS Online marketing materials. We were supposed to pass the AVP and the brochure at the ComRes Department at 11:30 am. If we submit at 11:31, it means a 5 for 20% of the grade, and maybe a 2 or a 3 for the final grade. And for a self-confessed GC like me, I can't afford a 3 as a final grade...
I finished my AVP at around 1 am last Tuesday. My eyes need rest and I just turned off my computer and slept. I just saved my AVP as a Movie Maker file and I haven't printed my brochure yet.
Fast forward to Wednesday 6 am. I opened my PC and started saving my AVP as a movie file. Unortunately, the computer keep on telling me that the source file cannot be located and I can't save my file. I have a class at 9 am and I do not want to miss it.
It's already 10 am. And I haven't saved the file. Haven't printed my brochure. Haven't attended my Newsroom lab class.
It was 10 am and I was crying.
I can't afford to submit my project late. That would mean a 5. During that time, I was thinking... "If I'll have a 5 in my final presentation, that would mean a 2 or a 3 as final grade. Or what if a 4? People don't fail in CommRes 125. I'm not supposed to fail."
I don't have a choice but to use my other AVP. The first AVP I created, by firs, I mean the CRAPPY AVP that I honestly think is dragging and boring and not creative. I just edited it a bit...changed the music and saved it as my final presentation AVP.
It was 10:30 already and then I ran to Philcoa to print my brochure. Another streak of bad luck: I haven't saved the font I used in my brochure! I returned at the boarding house, saved Neverwinter and printed the brochure. Good thing April and Donna already had my AVP saved in two CDs.
It was 10: 45, the clock is ticking, as if I'm Cinderella not hoping for 11:30 am to come.
Tick.tick.tick.
It was 11:10, I folded my brochure. I had left my USB and instructed the girl in the shop to print me five more copies and that I'll be back at 12nn to get them. That moment I didn't mind how many or how terrible the viruses my USB might get from their computer. What I wanted was to get to ComRes dept as soon as possible.
It was 11:15. I paid for the brochure and hurried off.
The jeep going to UP had just five passengers in it, and it would take 10 more minutes to fill it, considering it's Wednesday, not many students have classes. It would take 10 minutes to fill it, and another 3 minutes for me to walk from Quezon Hall to MassComm.
I decided to take a cab.
I told the driver "Sa UP po. MassComm building."
And he said Okay.
I haven't seen where we have gone, because I was too busy labeling the envelope where I put my brochure and the CD containing my AVP.
The driver asked me, "Mag-u-U Turn ba tayo?"
U turn?
OMG.
He didn't take the University Avenue. He drove along Commonwealth Avenue and it would take another 5 minutes if I ask him to return to the University Avenue.
"Cge Manong, diretso lang po." I pretended to be calm. I pretended not to be angry. But the truth is I wanted to cry. I wanted to shout.I do not expect that a Quezon City taxi driver does not know the way to enter UP Diliman from Philcoa. I wanted to get out of the cab and that moment I wish I know how to apparate.
"Sa tapat ng New Era na lang po tayo dumaan." And while I was saying that I was praying that the entrance was open. I was hoping it was open, but the truth is, it was rarely open. Last summer, I always pass by that gate, and it was usually closed for entering vehicles.
Of course, my bad luck continued.
The entrance near Central is closed. I do not have a choice. I paid the driver and run to MassComm building.
Run Nelly Run! I continuously told myself. But I am asthmatic and any moment I might have an asthma attack.
I passed by the Vanguard building, run towards MassComm and I didn’t even see that an Ikot and a Toki jeep were coming. I ignored them both and I crossed the street. Good thing I wasn’t hit. If I were hit by those jeeps , it would be so pathetic. The headline the next day in Kule would probably be, “Journ student hit by Ikot/Toki jeep”. That would be too embarrassing on my part, not to mention too bothering for SP because I was hit when I was running for her project submission. Good thing it never happened.
Then, I reached CommRes department at last. It was 11:25 says my watch. But it was just 11:15 at the department. Good thing, I wasn’t late.
Yeah, welcome to real life.
When everything seems out of my reach when I need them
When time is always my enemy
When Daniel Powter’s song is the soundtrack of my existence
When a taxi driver doesn’t know his route
When I’m always in the brink of having a 3
And when nothing is as inevitable as failure.
Yeah
bad luck slapped us when we least expect it.
But there's a thing as an advanced clock setting anyway...
And I was slapped, during the most inconvenient time.
Last Wednesday morning was our Final presentation for the TS Online marketing materials. We were supposed to pass the AVP and the brochure at the ComRes Department at 11:30 am. If we submit at 11:31, it means a 5 for 20% of the grade, and maybe a 2 or a 3 for the final grade. And for a self-confessed GC like me, I can't afford a 3 as a final grade...
I finished my AVP at around 1 am last Tuesday. My eyes need rest and I just turned off my computer and slept. I just saved my AVP as a Movie Maker file and I haven't printed my brochure yet.
Fast forward to Wednesday 6 am. I opened my PC and started saving my AVP as a movie file. Unortunately, the computer keep on telling me that the source file cannot be located and I can't save my file. I have a class at 9 am and I do not want to miss it.
It's already 10 am. And I haven't saved the file. Haven't printed my brochure. Haven't attended my Newsroom lab class.
It was 10 am and I was crying.
I can't afford to submit my project late. That would mean a 5. During that time, I was thinking... "If I'll have a 5 in my final presentation, that would mean a 2 or a 3 as final grade. Or what if a 4? People don't fail in CommRes 125. I'm not supposed to fail."
I don't have a choice but to use my other AVP. The first AVP I created, by firs, I mean the CRAPPY AVP that I honestly think is dragging and boring and not creative. I just edited it a bit...changed the music and saved it as my final presentation AVP.
It was 10:30 already and then I ran to Philcoa to print my brochure. Another streak of bad luck: I haven't saved the font I used in my brochure! I returned at the boarding house, saved Neverwinter and printed the brochure. Good thing April and Donna already had my AVP saved in two CDs.
It was 10: 45, the clock is ticking, as if I'm Cinderella not hoping for 11:30 am to come.
Tick.tick.tick.
It was 11:10, I folded my brochure. I had left my USB and instructed the girl in the shop to print me five more copies and that I'll be back at 12nn to get them. That moment I didn't mind how many or how terrible the viruses my USB might get from their computer. What I wanted was to get to ComRes dept as soon as possible.
It was 11:15. I paid for the brochure and hurried off.
The jeep going to UP had just five passengers in it, and it would take 10 more minutes to fill it, considering it's Wednesday, not many students have classes. It would take 10 minutes to fill it, and another 3 minutes for me to walk from Quezon Hall to MassComm.
I decided to take a cab.
I told the driver "Sa UP po. MassComm building."
And he said Okay.
I haven't seen where we have gone, because I was too busy labeling the envelope where I put my brochure and the CD containing my AVP.
The driver asked me, "Mag-u-U Turn ba tayo?"
U turn?
OMG.
He didn't take the University Avenue. He drove along Commonwealth Avenue and it would take another 5 minutes if I ask him to return to the University Avenue.
"Cge Manong, diretso lang po." I pretended to be calm. I pretended not to be angry. But the truth is I wanted to cry. I wanted to shout.I do not expect that a Quezon City taxi driver does not know the way to enter UP Diliman from Philcoa. I wanted to get out of the cab and that moment I wish I know how to apparate.
"Sa tapat ng New Era na lang po tayo dumaan." And while I was saying that I was praying that the entrance was open. I was hoping it was open, but the truth is, it was rarely open. Last summer, I always pass by that gate, and it was usually closed for entering vehicles.
Of course, my bad luck continued.
The entrance near Central is closed. I do not have a choice. I paid the driver and run to MassComm building.
Run Nelly Run! I continuously told myself. But I am asthmatic and any moment I might have an asthma attack.
I passed by the Vanguard building, run towards MassComm and I didn’t even see that an Ikot and a Toki jeep were coming. I ignored them both and I crossed the street. Good thing I wasn’t hit. If I were hit by those jeeps , it would be so pathetic. The headline the next day in Kule would probably be, “Journ student hit by Ikot/Toki jeep”. That would be too embarrassing on my part, not to mention too bothering for SP because I was hit when I was running for her project submission. Good thing it never happened.
Then, I reached CommRes department at last. It was 11:25 says my watch. But it was just 11:15 at the department. Good thing, I wasn’t late.
Yeah, welcome to real life.
When everything seems out of my reach when I need them
When time is always my enemy
When Daniel Powter’s song is the soundtrack of my existence
When a taxi driver doesn’t know his route
When I’m always in the brink of having a 3
And when nothing is as inevitable as failure.
Yeah
bad luck slapped us when we least expect it.
But there's a thing as an advanced clock setting anyway...
Saturday, August 19, 2006
what 21 units mean
I am starting to feel the hell month. 21 units is having its impact on me already. Greenday shoud've revised their song, Wake Me Up When August and September ends...
what's 21 units?
it means sleeping at around 2am to finish three-inch thick readings and waking up at 7am to read another three-inch thick readings
it means spending less time on television and more time at the libraray...
it means having Clean and Clear pimple removing gel because the semi-sleepless nights causes pimple outbreak
it means having a stock of San Mig Extra Strong Coffee and Boy Chili Cheese
it means having to save patience because some groupmates are just plain annoying
it means having to master making miracle papers
it means having the charm to persuade the landlady to let friends sleep over at the boardinghouse because of a so-called group study
it means having to know some parts of the Constitution by heartbecause of a Law class
.It means dealing with sleep-inducing black and white motion pictures for a Film class
.it means joining rallies and political forums for a Sociology class
it means learning Dreamweaver for an Online Journalism class
it means sacrificing a supposedly no class Wednesday
.it means battling with my eyes every Wednesday afternoon
.it means being a would-be advertising major in a Tech class
and it means suffering. in the very sense of the word.
Dealing with 21 units is like swimming in the river coming from the gulf, you go against the current...you become tired. You go to the side fo the river and free youself from the water. But the water rush off to the ocean, to join the waves. You're still there. gasping for breath. Unaccomplished because you haven't reached the spring.
then you ask yourself, is it worth it?
You haven't reached the spring.
You're tired.
You're at the riverbank.
stuck.
alone.
but it's not yet the end anyway...
what's 21 units?
it means sleeping at around 2am to finish three-inch thick readings and waking up at 7am to read another three-inch thick readings
it means spending less time on television and more time at the libraray...
it means having Clean and Clear pimple removing gel because the semi-sleepless nights causes pimple outbreak
it means having a stock of San Mig Extra Strong Coffee and Boy Chili Cheese
it means having to save patience because some groupmates are just plain annoying
it means having to master making miracle papers
it means having the charm to persuade the landlady to let friends sleep over at the boardinghouse because of a so-called group study
it means having to know some parts of the Constitution by heartbecause of a Law class
.It means dealing with sleep-inducing black and white motion pictures for a Film class
.it means joining rallies and political forums for a Sociology class
it means learning Dreamweaver for an Online Journalism class
it means sacrificing a supposedly no class Wednesday
.it means battling with my eyes every Wednesday afternoon
.it means being a would-be advertising major in a Tech class
and it means suffering. in the very sense of the word.
Dealing with 21 units is like swimming in the river coming from the gulf, you go against the current...you become tired. You go to the side fo the river and free youself from the water. But the water rush off to the ocean, to join the waves. You're still there. gasping for breath. Unaccomplished because you haven't reached the spring.
then you ask yourself, is it worth it?
You haven't reached the spring.
You're tired.
You're at the riverbank.
stuck.
alone.
but it's not yet the end anyway...
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
pondering
the logic of the Christ is the science of the cross...
the Metro Manila traffic is a laboratory of virtues...
(of patience, particularly)
we learn the art of sacrifice when we learn to love...
(the more you love, the more you become selfless)
the bed is a magnet...
(don't be magnetized)
question for the day:
Am I the strong enough to be God's girl?
the Metro Manila traffic is a laboratory of virtues...
(of patience, particularly)
we learn the art of sacrifice when we learn to love...
(the more you love, the more you become selfless)
the bed is a magnet...
(don't be magnetized)
question for the day:
Am I the strong enough to be God's girl?
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Clown
I call you a clown.
You’re my clown. I know you’re not happy behind the make-up. Call it self-mortification or whatever. But it doesn’t matter if you’re happy behind the thick foundation and the thick red lipstick, still you make me smile, you make me smile behind my own self-mortification behind my own make-up.
I call you a clown, you’re a clown; you’re not a joker. Jokers’ jokes aren’t corny. Yours are. But your corny jokes aren’t short of funny anyway. You’re a clown, with those jokes at the back of your head, just waiting to be unraveled. You’re a clown, a natural one. Even sans the make up.
I call you a clown. You can see frolics in the normalcy of ordinary things.
I call you a clown, but you also have the seriousness camouflaged behind that make-up and funky clothes. You may have worn that colorful stuff and that thick pressed powder on your face, yet you’re not happy.
I call you a clown, my clown…
Thanks for making me smile. . .
You’re my clown. I know you’re not happy behind the make-up. Call it self-mortification or whatever. But it doesn’t matter if you’re happy behind the thick foundation and the thick red lipstick, still you make me smile, you make me smile behind my own self-mortification behind my own make-up.
I call you a clown, you’re a clown; you’re not a joker. Jokers’ jokes aren’t corny. Yours are. But your corny jokes aren’t short of funny anyway. You’re a clown, with those jokes at the back of your head, just waiting to be unraveled. You’re a clown, a natural one. Even sans the make up.
I call you a clown. You can see frolics in the normalcy of ordinary things.
I call you a clown, but you also have the seriousness camouflaged behind that make-up and funky clothes. You may have worn that colorful stuff and that thick pressed powder on your face, yet you’re not happy.
I call you a clown, my clown…
Thanks for making me smile. . .
Monday, July 10, 2006
Table of the Academically Troubled People
My housemates and I are feeling the first semester already.
The table near the sofa is already expanded (read: it's the Table of the Academically Troubled People) and everyday, piles of books, readings, dermatographs, calculators, columnar sheets and Boy Bawang are present in our midst... Ate Flor, our dear landlady isn't imposing the 12 midnight- lights out anymore... which makes most of us happy...
During the first month, we still had time watching movies (Just Friends, Cheaper by the Dozen 2...) using Joey's cute laptop and we had a hard time hearing the voices of the characters because of the trykes' mega-sounds outside the gate. Also, we need to keep Ate Cham quiet, especially when she comments aloud because thinks she's too sleepy to watch and we forced her to.
Now, no more movie-watching. Our supposed-to-be Prince and Me movie moment last night was cancelled, because Cybudaydi needs to finish her BA stuff, Kat needs to sleep, Con needs to answer her Chem assignment, I need to finish my Comm141 readings, Hazel and Kezia have an exam the next day...and the rest just have some acad presoccupations...
I wonder when we'll watch it. Maybe when I already learn how to sharpen a dermatograph in less than 3 minutes and I do not need April's help in doing so...
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
top three
these are the things I learned, one thursday afternoon at Masscomm when the WiFi signal is strong...
context defines experience...go figure...
as McLuhan said, he didn't know who discovered water, but he's very sure it wasn't a fish... I believe so...
when I am so worried about something, chances are, everything will be alright, specially when I'm still suffering from the D fever (according to Con, and I was sitting at the Table of the Academically Troubled People at the boardinghouse last night...
thanks Liz McPhair is there to ask Why Can't I?
context defines experience...go figure...
as McLuhan said, he didn't know who discovered water, but he's very sure it wasn't a fish... I believe so...
when I am so worried about something, chances are, everything will be alright, specially when I'm still suffering from the D fever (according to Con, and I was sitting at the Table of the Academically Troubled People at the boardinghouse last night...
thanks Liz McPhair is there to ask Why Can't I?
Friday, June 30, 2006
the blogger
She’s a 19 year old GC who thinks that writing news and dwelling on journalistic stuff are not her forte. She would rather sketch her boring BC professor in a non-HB pencil at the back of her not-so-sketchpad-type notebook than think of which is better: the quotation lead or the novelty lead. She would rather calculate for foreign exchanges and a third world country’s GDP= Y+C+I+G component than go to police stations sequestering the blotter records and searching for a would-be story.
She’s a God-loving individual who think that if God becomes the center of one’s life, everything will fall in its place. She attends the mass everyday and feels like the Homily speaks to her pieces of practical advice. She goes to the study center once a week for her doctrine classes, attend the meditation every Wednesday and have life-related sessions with her kind mentor.
She’s the youngest of five children, and an occasional brat.
She’s a good daughter who follows her mother’s 10 pm curfew and advice even if belongingness and social life are at stake. No overnight for no reasons.
She’s a self-confessed math hater who couldn’t compute some algebraic and calculus basics. She is a one-time science exam flunker who thinks that having a 5 is the worst probable thing in the world and a 78% report is one hell of a bad joke.
She’s a person who hates chemistry so much that she sleeps at 9 pm the night before the chemistry exam, and still get a 1.5. Lucky.
She’s well-loved by the CRS team, getting all her desired subjects and spared of the patience-testing manual registration.
She’s a not-so-strategic chess player who loses all her game with her father. She earns a 2.25 in her chess PE even if she doesn’t complete the necessary games. She also has a fetish for chess sets. She has two ordinary wooden sets, one at home and one which is locked at her cabinet in her boarding house; a glass set from her uncle which she doesn’t use for fear of breaking the pieces, a metallic set from her sister that is her niece’s favorite throw toy, (thanks to the maker, it is very matibay) and a small tribal chess set from Myanmar with totem-pole-like colored pieces.
She’s an orgless being because she thinks that belongingness can be achieved without paying such high prices. Dignity, time and self-respect are more important than having 100plus people as orgmates. No one gets killed for not having any org.
She’s 30% architect
15% journalist
15% photographer
10% creative writer
10 % economist
7% nun
5% storyteller
5% chess player
2% debater
1% chef
She sleeps at 10 pm, wakes up at 6:30, because for her, nothing beats a good night sleep.
She’s the traditional Type A achiever, always stressed out and underexercised.
She’s a donut lover. Be it Dunkin’s Choco butternut, Cello’s Oreo-flavored donut, Mister Donut’s Black raspberry or Hot loops or Go Nuts, or even the donuts at CASAA, pwede na. She loves them. And anybody who gives her one will be highly appreciated.
She couldn’t sleep without a blanket even during summer when the moon seems like having simulated the sun’s heat.
She couldn’t go to school without a wrist watch, because time is a fleeting stranger she wouldn’t dare to miss.
She’s now writing a book which tackles how college cum-laude-wannabes get the grade and still enjoy life, which she hopes would belong to Summit media’s pool of literature before she turns 21.
She’s 5’7 ½ tall, slim and tan, with shoulder length bushy hair, yeah, sort-of-model figure, but she’s not one.
She always draws graphs or diagrams or any visual representation of anything on her bluebook during exams even though her professor laughs at them (Ms. Hernandez, what are you doing?) because she can’t help it. Visual stimulation helps her think more. A sketch is worth a thousand encyclopedic information. Why explain if you can make a graph and manipulate the data?
The things which could let her abandon her review session before an exam would be: a sketchpad with charcoal pencil, a full-bat Digicam plus a super annoying niece who’s ready to pose for a photo-op, Harry Potter-related stuff on television, a feel-good movie that could relieve her acad-stress and a friend she hasn’t seen for ages.
She’s also a book lover who admires JK Rowling and Dick Francis for their novels’ stupendous plots and twists and hates Dan Brown for degrading the Catholic tradition. She commends Joshua Harris for his honesty John Grisham for his wit.
She hopes that there are Fred and George Weasley in UP Diliman and she wishes to meet them soon.
She denies that she’s like Hermione Granger in more ways than her bushy hair.
She watches Survivor, not for the show itself but for the showcases of landscapes available. She loves to be an Amazing race contestant in the future.
She loves HBO for showing The Perfect Score. “When you are riding in a car and the traffic light turns red, would you still continue? You see, a victimless crime is still a crime”…
She’s a Globe subscriber but didn’t succumb to the unlimitext offer.
She’s an Arcsoft addict. Exploring Funhouse, Photoimpession, Showbiz and Videoimpression when she feels like it. Thanks to canon powershot.
She loves Avril Lavigne, Simple Plan, Parokya ni Edgar, Kelly Clarkson, The Corrs and Sugarfree and her all time favourite music video is Daniel Powter’s Bad Day. She considers Mojofly’s lyric as cute and Rock Steddy’s lyrics as straightforward. Her all time feel-great song is Counting Crow’s Shrek 2 track.
She couldn’t imagine why certain people couldn’t be so generous when their lives wouldn’t be altered if they do so anyway. Why give bread crumbs if you could give a fresh new loaf and not feel hungry anyway?
She believes that suffering breeds character, character breeds faith and in the end, faith will not disappoint. So does she. Manny Pangilinan, thanks!
She does think that true love waits, it’s just lurking behind everyone’s life, going unnoticed. And the moment someone feels it, it’s just the time when it feels like removing its invisibility cloak and showing to everyone what really it is.
She considers a purple bear as the most beautiful stuffed toy in the world and her illustrated first dictionary and a series of the Babysitter’s Club when she was six years old as the most helpful books in the universe.
She loves her name, even though her professors keep calling her Melissa and some of her friends keep on singing Dilemma when they hear her nickname. She loves her surname even if it’s so ordinary.
She’s a 19 year old GC who thinks that writing news and dwelling on journalistic stuff are not her forte. She would rather sketch her boring BC professor in a non-HB pencil at the back of her not-so-sketchpad-type notebook than think of which is better: the quotation lead or the novelty lead. She would rather calculate for foreign exchanges and a third world country’s GDP= Y+C+I+G component than go to police stations sequestering the blotter records and searching for a would-be story.
She’s a God-loving individual who think that if God becomes the center of one’s life, everything will fall in its place. She attends the mass everyday and feels like the Homily speaks to her pieces of practical advice. She goes to the study center once a week for her doctrine classes, attend the meditation every Wednesday and have life-related sessions with her kind mentor.
She’s the youngest of five children, and an occasional brat.
She’s a good daughter who follows her mother’s 10 pm curfew and advice even if belongingness and social life are at stake. No overnight for no reasons.
She’s a self-confessed math hater who couldn’t compute some algebraic and calculus basics. She is a one-time science exam flunker who thinks that having a 5 is the worst probable thing in the world and a 78% report is one hell of a bad joke.
She’s a person who hates chemistry so much that she sleeps at 9 pm the night before the chemistry exam, and still get a 1.5. Lucky.
She’s well-loved by the CRS team, getting all her desired subjects and spared of the patience-testing manual registration.
She’s a not-so-strategic chess player who loses all her game with her father. She earns a 2.25 in her chess PE even if she doesn’t complete the necessary games. She also has a fetish for chess sets. She has two ordinary wooden sets, one at home and one which is locked at her cabinet in her boarding house; a glass set from her uncle which she doesn’t use for fear of breaking the pieces, a metallic set from her sister that is her niece’s favorite throw toy, (thanks to the maker, it is very matibay) and a small tribal chess set from Myanmar with totem-pole-like colored pieces.
She’s an orgless being because she thinks that belongingness can be achieved without paying such high prices. Dignity, time and self-respect are more important than having 100plus people as orgmates. No one gets killed for not having any org.
She’s 30% architect
15% journalist
15% photographer
10% creative writer
10 % economist
7% nun
5% storyteller
5% chess player
2% debater
1% chef
She sleeps at 10 pm, wakes up at 6:30, because for her, nothing beats a good night sleep.
She’s the traditional Type A achiever, always stressed out and underexercised.
She’s a donut lover. Be it Dunkin’s Choco butternut, Cello’s Oreo-flavored donut, Mister Donut’s Black raspberry or Hot loops or Go Nuts, or even the donuts at CASAA, pwede na. She loves them. And anybody who gives her one will be highly appreciated.
She couldn’t sleep without a blanket even during summer when the moon seems like having simulated the sun’s heat.
She couldn’t go to school without a wrist watch, because time is a fleeting stranger she wouldn’t dare to miss.
She’s now writing a book which tackles how college cum-laude-wannabes get the grade and still enjoy life, which she hopes would belong to Summit media’s pool of literature before she turns 21.
She’s 5’7 ½ tall, slim and tan, with shoulder length bushy hair, yeah, sort-of-model figure, but she’s not one.
She always draws graphs or diagrams or any visual representation of anything on her bluebook during exams even though her professor laughs at them (Ms. Hernandez, what are you doing?) because she can’t help it. Visual stimulation helps her think more. A sketch is worth a thousand encyclopedic information. Why explain if you can make a graph and manipulate the data?
The things which could let her abandon her review session before an exam would be: a sketchpad with charcoal pencil, a full-bat Digicam plus a super annoying niece who’s ready to pose for a photo-op, Harry Potter-related stuff on television, a feel-good movie that could relieve her acad-stress and a friend she hasn’t seen for ages.
She’s also a book lover who admires JK Rowling and Dick Francis for their novels’ stupendous plots and twists and hates Dan Brown for degrading the Catholic tradition. She commends Joshua Harris for his honesty John Grisham for his wit.
She hopes that there are Fred and George Weasley in UP Diliman and she wishes to meet them soon.
She denies that she’s like Hermione Granger in more ways than her bushy hair.
She watches Survivor, not for the show itself but for the showcases of landscapes available. She loves to be an Amazing race contestant in the future.
She loves HBO for showing The Perfect Score. “When you are riding in a car and the traffic light turns red, would you still continue? You see, a victimless crime is still a crime”…
She’s a Globe subscriber but didn’t succumb to the unlimitext offer.
She’s an Arcsoft addict. Exploring Funhouse, Photoimpession, Showbiz and Videoimpression when she feels like it. Thanks to canon powershot.
She loves Avril Lavigne, Simple Plan, Parokya ni Edgar, Kelly Clarkson, The Corrs and Sugarfree and her all time favourite music video is Daniel Powter’s Bad Day. She considers Mojofly’s lyric as cute and Rock Steddy’s lyrics as straightforward. Her all time feel-great song is Counting Crow’s Shrek 2 track.
She couldn’t imagine why certain people couldn’t be so generous when their lives wouldn’t be altered if they do so anyway. Why give bread crumbs if you could give a fresh new loaf and not feel hungry anyway?
She believes that suffering breeds character, character breeds faith and in the end, faith will not disappoint. So does she. Manny Pangilinan, thanks!
She does think that true love waits, it’s just lurking behind everyone’s life, going unnoticed. And the moment someone feels it, it’s just the time when it feels like removing its invisibility cloak and showing to everyone what really it is.
She considers a purple bear as the most beautiful stuffed toy in the world and her illustrated first dictionary and a series of the Babysitter’s Club when she was six years old as the most helpful books in the universe.
She loves her name, even though her professors keep calling her Melissa and some of her friends keep on singing Dilemma when they hear her nickname. She loves her surname even if it’s so ordinary.
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