Hell Week

Ang lakas ko din magreklamo eh. Parang every month na lang may hell week. Ang totoo kasi, sadyang tamad lang ako, at may topak. Napaka-unproductive ko kapag naloloka ako. Sabi na may bipolar disorder ako eh. Malakas kutob ko tungkol dyan.

At kung last week ay hell week, ngayong week ay hell week uli. Yehey. Kanina report ko sa PolSci. Maayos naman, si sir (na rumored partner ni kilalang aktibista) ang magulo. Sinabi ko na nga ang pagkakaiba ng colonialism sa imperialism, eh lalo niya pang pinagulo ang usapan. Ayun, Naubos ang time sa

Movie marathon!

pagddrawing ng social triangle at ng pie chart na halos every meeting naman nya dndrawing. At dahil nga inaral ko ang report ko kagabi, hindi ako gumawa ng activity para sa PI100. Dapat talaga gagawa ako, kaso lang ang power nap ko ay naging 5hours. 2am na ako nagising, at katamaran nga naman, nagFacebook na lang ako. Yehey. At kapag minamalas ka nga naman, bigla na lang hiningi ni Prof yung outline ng short shory. Eh wala nga ako nung isang activity, yun pa kayang outline ng short story. Nakakaloka kasi, si Isagani yung character na dapat kong gawan ng spin-off, eh wala na nga akong maalala sa Noli at El Fili. Dapat si Quiroga na lang nabunot ko eh para masaya. Magtitinda siya ng noodles, tapos yun pala nagtitinda din siya ng droga. Eh di masaya.

Kaya ayan, kailangan ko makapagproduce ng tatlong paper by Thursday. Yung tungkol sa SONA madali lang, pero yung short story at kadramahan ng Saving Private Ryan ay nakakaloka. Tapos may Philo exam pa ako sa Friday. Wooh. Poortey na lang tayo.

Hindi pa matatapos sa Friday ang kalbaryo ko. Dahil flight na ng tatay ko sa Saturday, kailangan kong samahan si emo bro sa UPCAT. Alanghiya, sa NCPAG pa yung testing venue nya. Sana lang wag bumagyo, tulad nung nag-UPCAT ako. Nanigas lang naman ako sa lamig dahil nabasa ako ng ulan tapos aircon yung room. Pressure.

Bakit parang ang sarap dumaldal? Kasi masarap magreklamo. Sa katamaran kong ‘to, akalain mong college student ako… Wapak.

The Same Breaded Chicken

There’s this girl in my boring pi100 class who gave me a piece of yellow paper. I sit along the aisle, in an empty row a few chairs from the back. She sits along the aisle as well, the row on my right. I think I recognize her face, seen her from somewhere but I can’t remember. I’m not sure. And then one day, we have this writing “workshop” (which by the way I don’t think has anything to do with the course, strictly speaking). I was sitting there clueless, no idea of how I could comply with that day’s requirement. And then, this girl, slightly smiling, reached out and gave me half a sheet of yellow paper. If I were a bitch or kinda anti-social, I could have shrugged it off and tell her I don’t need her paper. I have a whole pad of yellow paper in my bag, but I accepted the paper anyway. Maybe she is too nice to notice I look like dazed and out of the realm. I thanked her for the paper, and suddenly I remembered why her face is familiar. Or I just thought so. And so to clear things out, I asked her a question. She was reluctant to answer at first, but then when she asked me why and I told her it’s because she looked familiar, she answered the question quite well. Oh yeah, I knew it. We attended the same high school. Their batch hosted our senior prom at that glam hotel.

That case was not surprising. This one is. A guy, obviously a batch or two younger, is in my polsci class. He sits in front and I know that’s the best way to survive the extremely boring class. I try not to fall asleep, and so far, I’m successful. Then there’s the flared gray haired professor who we think doesn’t have a clear sense of what direction our discussion should take, that he keeps repeating things over and over. He asks typical political questions and we’re all sick of it. But this guy I’m talking about seems to be tolerating the professor’s mediocre teaching. He would answer every question with much enthusiasm and it’s quite irritating. But at this situation, I know I have to objective and disregard whatever that is wrong with him. Maybe he’s just brashly confident. But to be honest, he’s got the wits. I agree with him in almost every debate, and I think were in the same line of thinking. But the professor always counters his argument and tells him that it’s not the right reasoning. Hell, could he just, for once, see where we are coming from? That’s the problem with these people, they’re overly bitter about politics. Going back to the guy I’m talking about, I absolutely have no idea that we’re connected in one way. Yeah, we attended the same high school. Quite a good reason on why our line of reasoning is more or less the same. Btw, I accidentally discovered the connection while I was reading blogs.

I know it’s not surprising to meet these people in college. This is what we worked for in high school… to get to the premier university in the country. Not making it would make things complicated.

And as for why we think the same or we feel the connection, it’s because we went through the same journey that got our eyes look like we haven’t slept for nights. We wore blue and after four years of keeping up with a schedule that is longer than the 8-hour workers’ schedule, we got out of that blue gate with flair, a better person who’s ready to take on this crazy world. And just for a final thought, I think we are pretty much the same, because we all ate that same breaded chicken the canteen offered at lunch. There’s something with the chicken. Or maybe it’s in the breading.