Experimentation
Mad scientist Siegfried von Schroider kidnaps Seto Kaiba for his own sick pleasure. It will get better with time. Abuse, Anal, Bi, DP, F/M/M, HJ, Language, M/F, M/M, OC, Oral, UST, WIP, Yaoi

You had my attention until I saw how bad your writing was. Then you lost me again.

:D

In other greater news, my friend Sarah might be living here and studying in UP. Oh please, please, please let this be so. I want sooo much to hug her. Hell, I've been wanting to hug her personally for, oh, four years now? Since we first became LJ friends? XD

This is an old comic and I've seen it before. But today, I was twice as amused at it when angeltechtower sent it to me and told me it reminded him of me. And that he imagined the caption below being said in my voice.

Yes, honey. I love you, too.

I have a hard time remembering things from when I was younger. I have to wait for my parents or my sister to tell me about these things. Sometimes, even after that, I still don't remember them. But I do keep them in mind, just in case.

They often tell me that I was born after EDSA revolution. That if it hadn't been successful, I wouldn't have been born. I can understand it, I guess. My mom and dad were already scared for my sister and the kind of environment she'd grow up in under these circumstances. The deal was, If Ferdinand Marcos is removed from power, my sister would be given a sibling. Sure enough, a year later, I was born. April 14, 1987.

I had no memories of any sort about EDSA I. Obviously, I wasn't even there. The only stuff I know about it is stuff I pick up from History classes, from stories of my professors and teachers who were already around at the time and actively participating in it. All of them, without a doubt, mentioned Former President Corazon Aquino. Sure there were about one or two of them who were mad at the fact that she became president. They thought she had no right to be there because she had no experience in politics whatsoever. She was just a housewife until then, what would she know? Although, most of them spoke of her with the highest regard. "Sabi namin noon." my Philippine History teacher told me a few years back "Kapag nanalo si Cory, magbabago ang lahat." 

I still really don't know everything that took place then, but I do know that we needed her. That she was and always will be an important symbol. And that I should thank her for changing things. Because of her, it was okay enough for me to be born into the world.

Due to the shit that's been happening lately (because that's what shit does, it happens). I have decided to make this journal

Snagged these from powerbonger

( Because the internet has cures for boredom. Not that they're anything useful )

Jeepney radio: *plays 5-6-7-8 by STEPS*
Me: *facepalm*

Is that a normal reaction?

------------

Today, I went to my Org's office because I was called to learn the ropes of being a Finance Secretary. Honestly, I still think it's a bad idea. But since I was the one who was so eager to help out, I couldn't refuse now that I'm finally given some extra workload.

I had the National Finance Secretary of the org teach me stuff since she's been doing it longer than I have.

Her: And here we have "Accounts Payable." *pause* you do know what that is, right?
Me: *stare* Yeah. I do.
Her: Oh good --
Me: Six years ago, I knew what it was. Now? Not so much.

We obviously have a lot of work to do.

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I'm wondering why radio stations are suddenly playing songs by the Backstreet Boys, N'Sync and Take That. I also wish they didn't stay stuck in my head two hours after hearing them. It just feels wrong on so many levels.

Speaking of which, I was thinking about one of my old favorite songs. "Sunny Came Home" by Shawn Colvin kept playing in the radio when I was about nine, I believe. I can't be sure, but I remember being a kid. I've loved the song since then and until now, I still do.

Although it was only recently that I sat down to think about the lyrics. And I realized she was talking about an unhappy housewife who just set her husband on fire. Either that or she set her own house on fire because she got fed up and escaped with her children. Whichever interpretation you choose to go with, it's not a story fitting for a happy camper's delight.

Does anyone else remember the urban legend behind Susanne Vega's "Tom's Diner"? I'm sure I'm not the only one who remembers what that was.

----------------

Earlier's bus trip:

Me: *hands him 100 peso bill*
Conductor: Wala po kayong bariya?

Seriously. If I HAD any change, I would've given THAT to you. WHY do you people keep ASKING this question? Especially since I see that you have ENOUGH CHANGE to give back to me.

/pet peeve

There is one thing I realize about sitting in front of the computer at 5 am in the morning.

Yes, there is the fact of "I should get to work because those website articles aren't going to write themselves". But somehow, I also have this overwhelming urge to check my old blogs every time something like this happens.

I did that just a few minutes ago, only to find out how somethings haven't changed. Some people are still stupid and annoying, even more than when you last left them. Sad but true.

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For the past few nights, I've been having the same nightmare and I've been waking up the same time as always. Twenty-eight minutes past three. I always dream that people or that something is chasing me. There was more today, as if the chasing part wasn't enough. The dream I had today tops the cake.

I had a dream that I was in a procession and these monks and other people were lifting heavy statues of saints and archangels. They were really detailed, complete with the golden halos and headdresses. This procession went on until one of the monks found it so heavy that they had no choice but to stay still for a while and let it stand on it's own. Except that it didn't stand on it's own. Instead, it tipped over and the spiked-sun like halo it had around it's head crushed one of the monks that carried it. Went right through him and tore him apart. I did not appreciate that sight already.

The other statues were also placed to stand on their own, and they also started falling, crushing and stabbing people left and right. I was seeing blood everywhere and I was trying to get away from ending up the same way. And I saw one of the rounder (I don't know what it was. Was it a pot of some sort?) It was blood red and it knocked me down. Just as I landed on my back, one of the statues (that was Saint Agnes, if I'm not mistaken. She was holding a lamb and was clothed in blue and white) suddenly crushed me.

I died, but then I saw my spirit or soul (maybe) get up and stare at my dead body. And then I told myself "Oh, so this is how I died." and then I walked away while others were getting killed.

I woke up after that and I couldn't go back to sleep anymore. I just got up and turned on the computer. Thought maybe sitting down and surfing would make me forget. I guess I was wrong.

---------------

A few more days until I turn 22. April 14 is this week after? I think it is.

Here's something I learned.

Not sure everyone will agree with me entirely, but I speak from experience.

I've been a member of a few writing communities and I've only observed two things. Either the members are really, really, really nice and tell you how great and potentially good your work is, without really pointing out anything that needs work except for typos and grammatical errors. This is because "they don't like critiquing" or because "there are enough communities for that." 

And then there are the communities that do leave you useful and constructive critique, but not exactly in a pretty way. If you ask them about their tone, they will immediately tell you "Don't complain. Grow thicker skin because other editors are mean jerky assholes who'll eat your soul. You'll never be a better writer if you don't learn to live with it." I guess to an extent, this is true. I can only guess, as I've never published anything major before. No, that poem in Dapitan doesn't count. That was a school thing. It doesn't matter in the long run and looking back at it makes me see just how much I ACTUALLY hate it.

I'm not really sure because I haven't written for anyone except for myself and my partner in crime, arashi_tenkai . So, I don't know how credible my point of view slash opinion really is to anyone.

Although, I have met people who are in the middle. These people give the most valuable and useful criticism. They are brutally honest and yet are really calm about it, pointing out a lot of mistakes that you've made or things that you've missed. There are times that they wait for you to figure it out yourself before the fully explain what should be done. They don't "mollycoddle" anyone. If something is bad, they tell you. If something needs work, they will tell you straight out that "that's not going to work" or "there are better ways of saying it." Not saying that those who state their critique in a more passionate and aggressive manner are wrong. Most of the time, they're like that because they ARE credible. I just think that having thick skin and enough courage to swallow really harsh comments are only part of being a writer. Helping writers and making them better also involve kind of helping them grow. Even though it's the INTERNET and "people can be as mean as they want to be" on the internet, it doesn't really make being a complete asshole an excuse.

The point is, I think, there is always a middle path. Extremes are never a good thing to follow. There is always the right thing to say, the right time to say it. As one of the mods from my community said: 

Critique how you see fit, but please keep in mind that just because you can say whatever you want behind the anonymity of the Internet, doesn’t mean that you can’t irreparably damage someone with the words that you write. We, as writers, want to tell a story and we have to tell that story through words. We want to affect people with our words. We use those same words to tell someone what we think of their writing. And what we say can affect someone, sometimes very deeply.

I have heard stories about people not picking up a pen again after hearing that they don't have talent. Let's face it, not everyone starting and struggling or potential writer has the guts to swallow all of that. You also need to be very careful with them. They're writers. More importantly, they're human beings. You need to be careful with them either way.

What are your thoughts on it?

</lj>

Besides the fact that I don't know which icon I want to use because they're all so gorgeous and wonderful to look at, I'm having problems with how I should deal with my paper for Global Culture.

It's not that I don't know how to write. I know what I want to talk about and which topics I want to cover. The problem is that I want to say a whole lot and we're supposed to keep it under six pages. I'm this close to ignoring the limit of pages and just writing what I feel like and stopping when I think I've covered everything I want to cover.

I picked Vedic Religion and Hinduism as my topic. We were told to go with a topic that interests us and so I went with that. Although it was a toss up between that and the Mesopotamian-Babylonian/Sumerian-Akkadian religion, I went with the one I knew more about. I'm going to involve the literature, the traditions and ceremonies or practices observed and of course, my favorite part. The deities. 

I think I'm going to do a little comparison between Hinduism and Zoroastrianism at the very last part. I could also do a few comparisons between the deities of India and deities from other religions or mythologies. Right now, the possibilities are endless. I have to decide within these three days because this is the only time I get to work on it. Also, the deadline is next week.

Will plan this out a little bit more. And then I'll get back to you guys.

Midterms finished a few days ago. College week begins as of today. So, I basically went to school to hang around the library for a few hours since none of the professors were coming in. I didn't want to skip classes at first because I thought I might be missing something important. Then I noticed that I wasn't bumping into any of my classmates at all. I usually do. That's what convinced me that it was okay to go home.

And since I'm done computing the Midterm grades for my linguistics class and I didn't receive any messages from my professor telling me that there were changes to be made, I took a pretty long nap when I got home. Woke up in between to read some of the books I borrowed. One World History book, one book about North American Mythology and one about Japanese mythology. I still don't get why people ask me for reasons as to why I borrow books like that. They ask if it's for homework every single time. Can't I just borrow a library book because I want to? 

Tomorrow, I'm going to attend my Mandarin Conversation class. And if I hear that my linguistics professor won't be showing up, I'll be heading home.

Speaking of grades, I'm rather surprised that I'm doing really well in all my subjects. I'm not really sure if the reason is because I didn't enroll in any math subjects this semester or if it's because of something else? I guess a little freedom does go a long way. Since I'm doing better in most of my subjects, I don't feel guilty about tending to the stuff I want to do. That is: Writing and Research, of course. As if you couldn't guess. I'm having a lot of fun nowadays. Much more fun than I could ever remember back then. Which, I guess is a good thing.

Bad news is, most of my classmates from my Global Culture class think that China is in South East Asia and has a federation. Even if you didn't know that China doesn't have a federation, the words south east Asia ought to give you a clue. Oh yeah. And apparently Jamaica can be found in Indonesia and people from Thailand are called Thailanders.

The other day, my Linguistics professor wanted another grammar check on us. Her grammar check exercises are the most fun I've had in a while. Sometimes, she gives us a subject to write about. Most of the time though, she lets us write what we want.

Last Monday, she asked us to write a letter to ourselves. She said that sometimes even though we already know the sensible thing to do, we keep ignoring it anyway. Hence the drama goes on. She told us to pretend that we were a separate entity from ourselves. I agree with her because I speak from experience. I don't want to go on about it for now, though.

I had no idea I had so much things to say to myself. I actually just sat down there and wrote whatever it was that came to mind. Whatever I wanted to tell myself. Actually, they were more of the things I keep denying but were actually a hundred percent true. Do you ever notice how much more sense things make when you write them down? When I re-read my letter, I almost couldn't believe that I was the one who wrote it. 

I should learn how to take my own advice. Although, I already have. Recently.

First update of the year. Actually, first update in forever.

I'm back in school again. And as expected, a lot of students still aren't showing up. Students from my new school are fond of taking extended vacations. To tell you the truth, it kind of alarms me how they can do something like that. It's like how the can just stop showing up for classes because they've decided they wanted to drop the subject. For the life of me, I can never bring myself to be that easy going. I tried three years ago. As soon as I attended the next class, I began to panic because I didn't attend the first class. It was one of those "what was I thinking?" moments.

Anyway, putting that aside now. I haven't been all too busy yet. True, I did have a few things to do a few days ago, hence my silence. I promised myself I'd update more from now on, because I missed writing long journal entries. I haven't been doing it enough since plurk. Although, I did start writing a long journal entry earlier on the notebook arashi_tenkai  gave me last month. I really did miss just letting the thoughts come to me and writing them down without really thinking about them until I read them.

Plus, does anyone else notice how much fun reading old journals is? It makes you think about a lot of things. I guess because it makes you realize how much better things are now. Maybe that's just my case, though.

I'll do it more from now on. Seriously.

Them: Are you going to the Christmas party?
Me: No.
Them: Why?
Me: Because I don't want to.
Them: Why?
Me: Because I don't like parties.
Them: Why?
Me: Because I don't.
Them: Why?

My least favorite thing about people is their eternal nosiness and how they interchange it with good will.

It's kind of sad that the supposed most wonderful time of the year consists of annoying traffic jams, overcrowding of malls, jeep terminals and just about every place known to man. There is also the constant encounters with scary mothers and grandmothers who will do anything to get the right present of their children and grandchildren. I suppose it's all just a part of Yule cheer. Something I've gotten used to over the past few years.

At least the weather is good, though.

For some strange reason, I didn't feel the need to wait for my sister to come home and ask me to download her usual dosage of the Daily Show and the Colbert Report.

I don't think I have to do much talking. Sarah Palin's doing a fine job speaking for herself already.



I do have to say that the part where she says Americans are craving "something new and different" and "a new kind of energy". It reminded me of an infomercial I saw a couple of weeks back.

You cannot rant like craps or neither can your rant craps.

Criticism is plural.

A skank, as defined in the Online Urban Dictionary is

Derogatory term for a (usually younger) female, implying trashiness or tackiness, lower-class status, poor hygiene, flakiness, and a scrawny, pockmarked sort of ugliness. May also imply promiscuity, but not necessarily. Can apply to any race, but most commonly used to describe white trash.

If you think "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." , you shouldn't be using the internet. For serious.

There were three of you and one of me.

Also, even if there were two of us, there were still three of you. 3 is not equal to 2, you idiot.

No, I don't have people skills. Because I wasted precious time with you instead of practicing them on people who might have actually deserved them coming from me.

You should leave because you don't even know who I am, or what happened to me with these two. You don't even know my name. What are you doing here again? 

Next time you suggest that I "look into the mirror of my ugly self", you should try to see if that comeback even makes sense. 

Also, I have no idea why you think being a lesbian is an insult. I'm really lost on that.

Here's a little note. If you're not even thinking about the past anymore, you wouldn't have gone out of your way to try and find me because you want to stay far away from me, right? And yet, here you are. Looking for a fight.

"oh and did i mention you guys totally need a pair of scissors. I know what you mean. I mean your face haunts my nightmares and all the horror movies to this day! ^^" 

Ladies and gentlemen, the lamest joke in the world. You must think you're pretty clever.

And the NEXT time you assume my creativity is dwindling, I suggest you gather proof to back this statement up. Too bad for you, you don't have any.

Then again, you should be pretty creative if you're able to make up your own friends instead of getting real ones.

It's none of your business who I'm with, what I do with them, who I'm having sex with -- or if I'm having sex at all. Stop bringing it into the conversation because I don't see the point to it.

If you're going to insult me, you can at least do it right.

PS. There is no such word as rubout.