tighinn beó's Journal

11:51pm: Last call
Hi! If you're still reading this... Tsk on you. Here's what you're actually supposed to do:

1. Take spatulalobotomy off your friends list. Literally. The online one. In LJ. Yes.

2. That's all. There's this, but it's not really all that necessary.

Aaaand, goodbye, then.

3:44pm: epitaph
RIP spatulalobotomy. Thank you for the memories. (I was about to forget them.)

And you, don't just stand there! Do come along, if you like.

5:44am: Hello, more observant part of my LJ friends list. You may have noticed my absence, as the only way to verify my existence is through posting comments. (And this is how I will sabotage eras of philosophy on existentialism. I will go down in history as the Girl who Eradicated All Hopes of Enlightenment. Oh yeah.) Well, I haven't seen Snikt, my abuse-friendly computer, in quite a while.

And now we switch to a topic completely related on so many levels. In Short Story Writing, we were asked to write an experience about a "crush or first love." Okay, yes, we're trite like that. The point is, I had to make someone up. There were girls around me having some sort of giggle contest and I was there mentally tabulating a character sheet for my imaginary infatuation. Mrs La Chica said that if one of us hadn't felt the first pangs of puppy love yet (WTF), that person is apparently abnormal. And thus my pride in my delayed adolescence was inadvertently smited. I am most miffed.

Oh, shut up. I still have you and my other 90+ concubines. And the penguin, too.

6:29am: "All these people are dying!"
"That's normal. All you other people should be living..."

I dreamt about my grandfather. I must have mangled his face to ridiculous proportions as I've never actually seen him before. Anyway, he says I shouldn't be depressed as I've successfully made it to my 17th *cringe* birthday. Holy patootie, I'm still alive. It got very difficult to talk to him, eventually.

Dead relatives are so cheesy.

Oh, and I am no longer required to write my ADMU essay. During all and any attempt at it, Ryan will come up skipping and turn off the CPU. The Oracle at Delphi said so.

(P.S. Sorry, I just got kilig about the newborn normalcy of my dreams. No longer shall my three or four hours of sleep be augmented by phantasmagorical dinosaurs and crepe paper... Which, to date, still owns the award of most striking effect on the subconscious. I fear my grade school self.)

6:21am: the almost ten things that disconcerted me before eating my breakfast
1) I've missed five days of LJ action... and already I had to skip nearly 1000 in my friends page, just to make a mad dash in an effort to catch up. So even if I felt compelled to comment, I've kept mum in the interest of complete absence.

2) Ragnarok Online will tear families apart.

3) One of the F4 guys (Dao Ming Tzu[?]) shaves his armpits. Tis true. (Note, for the Filipinos: Jologs powah-up!) (Addendum to note, for the elitist anime fans: Hee. I invite you to murder me for this, but I was really disappointed for missing Dragon Ball GT.)

4) Can turtles really breathe through their asses or am I just that damn gullible?

5) My darling ferret*meep, I lied. It's not "pahiran" that means spread, I think it's "pahid". I'm still not sure about this though, and it's driving me crazy. Oh, and I tried thinking of a better pet name for you, I really did, but none seemed as sweet as this one.

6) My mom refuses to have anything to do with me between eight to nine PM, lest she misses one word of the recycled dialogue in her soap opera. (This would be the one where two sisters fall in love with the same guy, and the sister he loved back was presumed dead, and hilarity does not ensue. Greta explained this to me. Jologs powahhh-up nahmbaahhh toooo!!!!!)

7) I saw Danny again today, along with his girl-space-friend, and I can swear on oath that they both smelled like peaches and pencil shavings. I found this cute. Hef hef.

8) What to put, what to put. Oh, heck, I'll settle for ( this. )

I actually reread that and I had to laugh. My ego astonishes me. As in HA HA, and use up the spare HA from the maniacal laugh reservoir. Yay for all the pennies I earn every time I make sense.

8:02am: a shout-out to my not-so-startling persistence in avoiding the battle against sloth
I can play "Ode to Joy" on the recorder! Well... The throttled, unfortunately hippie version of it. But nevertheless, I'm pleased with my progression in woodwinds. If anyone wants to be instructed on how to play a condensed classical, feel free to ask me. The song will last twenty seconds max or you get your money back.

As an addendum to my decree of music nerdery, here's a soundtrack survey I grabbed from writingthewrong.

( Ode to Ennui )

1:37pm: so and so and so forth
Inspired (read: excused) by years of my ignorance on Asian movies, a slightly less than normal obsession with dictionary.com and, finally, the accumulated thoughts of three years dressed in not-quite-orange-not-quite-yellow checkers underneath a jacket that advertises one alcoholic beverage or another. Also, I wanted to make a completely new set of icons, but Calvin memories are too precious, so that one stays. I don't like it -- any of it -- all too much, but churning out images comforts me in some eerie way. If only I can edit livejournal-involved jpegs for a living.

(I remember Fatima saying something about our LJs being part of and/or becoming our identities. One Taboo game comes to mind... "What is Eris?" "Spatulalobotomy!" Pfft.)

Um. A while ago was the last first day of high school. For some reason, I think that's significant somehow... In any case, all meaning I could've placed on this day was lost listening to Candice gripe about Meteor Garden and how it's unfair to make fads of Taiwanese shows based on mangas. Something like that.

My mother's handling this senior thing all wrong. I've jumped ship to another topic so fast that it hurt my neck. But anyway. This is my last year in high school, so I'm of unshakable opinion that she should coerce me into watching cartoons with whatever free time I have. Instead she discusses college and courses and all this superfluous shit. What does she want me to be, an eviscerated mass of human depression? I mean, it's bad enough that I'm a dork, must it always be brought up that I'm not even a passably smart dork? It figures -- there's one primary advantage of being a geek and I don't even have it. I get to pout now. :(

1:32pm: I don't get depressed by little things, really I don't. I'm a survivor. There are things that help me overcome tragedies in a world where the Mavericks win 132-110 against Sacramento, things like:

-- NBA --

Chris Webber: "Aw, you found me... I guess this wasn't a good hiding spot."

Referree: "No, Vlade, you can't give me a hug and make it all better!"

Yao Ming, Shaquille O'Neal and... Christina Aguilera.

-- fun on road trips --

For Filipinos only. ^_^

Ralph (brother's friend): Wow! Jackpot! Alright!!!!

- - -

And, for the record, San Antonio kicks purple and yellow ass. ^_^

6:00pm: "Entry" by: the Omnipotent Farmer.
After reading her survey, I realized that my whole name means Ruler of the Earth's Meadows. This cheers me up beyond personal capacity for logic.

Because this depressed me:
"You're no bigger than what it takes to upset you."

In other words, my overall worth is not even equivalent to dance remixes, bad grades, atrocious grammar and spelling, this, and my little cousin to name a few. I am officially miffed. Miffed, I tell you!

But I still get to rule the earth's meadows. I will fulfill my destiny as... a farmer? It's written in the stars, and I believe the galactic gases have always had it in for me.

4:36pm: "Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity."

12:18pm: on how many times i wanted out
Conrado de Quiros.

( Gah. )

Yes, he writes so well it turns my grey matter green.

But I'm over that. I've stopped comparing myself with everything and anything because it doesn't matter at all. I miss everyone and no one's leaving yet and no one's going to miss me and I think I'm happy but I can't tell and I guess maybe perhaps probably perchance some people are made to be alone and I know I'm one of them but I want to have a good summer and see everyone but I don't think I was designed like that because nobody needs me to be here anyway and I'm not sure if I'm okay with that but there's really nothing I can do about it except maybe perhaps probably perchance pretend to be okay with that which I can be okay with

11:47pm: A concise shout-out to egotism and one of my many manifestations of geekdom. Here is proclamation number which-thousandth-are-in-now? I present to you...

Pluggage. ^_^

Will continue tripping on my brother's psych books.

I am Jack's dilapidating hypothalamus gland. Either that or I'm dating it.

I vaguely understood what I meant. But I'm okay! Give me a few of Her lyrics and I'll be fine...

1:36pm: If it's possible for people to have as much time on their hands as I do
--Pick a band and answer only using the band's lyrics...--

( The Strokes )

or

( Tool )

What's cool is it was actually fun. (The 020103 Event, not the-- okay, well the survey admittedly amused me, too.) And we got the chance to give Eriko a standing ovation. ^_^ Though my face is still weeping of black eyeliner remnants. It won't get the frick off(!)

10:07am: I don't want to understand this horror
There's a weight in your eyes I can't admit
Everybody ends up here in bottles
But the name tag's the last thing you wanted
As the world explodes we fall out of it
But we can't let go because this will not go away
There's a house built out in space

I can't see that thief that lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at the side of your bed
I don't know what's happening and I can't pretend
But I can be your, be your...

Someone help us understand
who ordered this disgusting arrangement, time and the end
I don't want to hear who walked on water
because the hallways are empty and the clock ticks
as the world implodes we fall into it
and we can't go home because this will not go away
There's a house built out in space

It's a long, long get away...
Make it home again...

Oooh, ooh, ^_^. I know the last one lasted a bit over a month rounded off, but I have a little tingling fairy-fluttered feeling on the goosebumps of my goosebumps that this one's going to endure to the very next millenium. Possibly not, that isn't very reasonable, but I'm going to keep it until the Vultures of Outdated Livejournal Layouts come pecking at it.

5:26pm: Tell me, am I very far?
Gia is not Italian for Jane. I refuse. No. Take it away. Other than that, Mrs. Borja is cool. ^_^ Inability to look up name origins aside...

Okay, I'm feeling strangely amused again. Exams? What exams? Yes, rely on the fact that I am getting farther and farther in my race to do anything and everything humanly possible to procrastinate. The most difficult flipping subject is tomorrow, but of course I choose to change my antique lj layout. Here I come to make a glorious dive into a pool of report card excrement! Whee! ^_^ At least I get to enjoy the ride. I'll just need a couple of airbags when it's all over. Preferrably with multilple prints of Weiss Kreuz and Naruto yaoi.

Bad conscience. Shut up. I don't want to study.

Season ender of Six Feet Under tonight! Drew Carey Show and Whose Line... Tuesday is my TV day. Life is good.

Okay, now onto what I want for Christmas. Very important. I've modified my perfect gay guy. Now he has to have pretty hair, eye glasses, endless bundles of flannel sweaters and (recently added) must be of Greek lineage. Okay, I guess the Greek thing is expendable. Even the hair and fashion sense... and... not without much sacrifice, the eye glasses can be omitted as well. Basically, we're back to the drawing board. Gods. Okay, he doesn't even have to know he's gay yet. He can be innocently walking around the park, thinking he's as straight as an arrow, until he catches sight of this lovely, lovely boy who blows that heterosexuality theory to hell. Okay, there you go. Now wrap him up and tie a ribbon around his neck and shove him under my Christmas tree.

Hee. I am indeed most optimistic today.

7:34pm: This seems fun. ^_^

50,000 words in 25 days... I guess that's pretty much all the distraction I need in one month. ^_^

1:33pm: Such a stellar monument to loneliness.
[ Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself, ]
[ and covered with a perfect shell, ]
[ such a charming beautiful exterior. ]

n. 0.02 : Peering up from their black shrouded hood, through wide unexpressive eyes that hold all the watercolor skies in a galaxy such as this.

n. 0.32 : touch her and die

n. 0.33 : Their breathing (shallow) is interrupted by a gasp; they take the world in through wisps of malignant oxygen; they Breathe too much anyway.

interlude {(I chose the numbers! Pretty cool, huh?), (Oxygen shmoxygen. Really!!1111), (Let. It. All. Out. -no one has to know-)}

n. 1.47 : Reste si veux.STAY IF YOU WANT




...




I'm sorry. I'm done. By the way, my participation level in Kazaa is Medium(64). (User Prompt: cheer!) And... yeah: Anemic vampires! -slay yer enemies, leave no one behind!!! kill, kill, kill!!!- Hmm. Yeah, that seems to be it. I'm done.

5:19pm: Um, I just wanted to share this. I wanted to send it to the C22002 forum, but I feared limb-dismemberment courtesy of the Lasallite supporters. ^_^ I didn't find it amusing in itself, just the fact that someone actually took the time to write something like it... And the fact that Philippine Star published it... ^_^'

( Find out why Ateneo is like the Philippines... )

Anyway, my parents decided that I should advertise the fact that Larry Fonacier was sick during the last game. Hence the not starting and the consecutive three-point misses. And, fact: Larry Fonacier looks like a shaven bunny. Another fact, if there is ever such a thing as crooked Chinese helium, Gec Chia swallowed it. I mean that in the nicest way possible. ^_^

I shall now leave with a Tenorio-ism, because he's funny too. ^_^
LA (to my brother and his friends): ME (Management Engineering) kayo no! Triple nyo siguro QPI ko! (His QPI is .6) ...Ah, teka lang. 1.8 lang yon... (quietly) 6... 12... 18... (louder) Tama, 1.8 lang!

5:22pm: Throw everything in... Fill the hole with pixels...
"Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance."

(For a Povedan, this is an automatic amendment: "This party sucks, let's go to Galle instead.")

I don't understand why friends are supposed to love each other no matter what. Just, that they should. Don't you love the momentary person, the one you met and happened to like at that point in time? Why are you obliged to love them even if they changed, and even if they had lost the capacity to love you back?

I can hardly recognize anyone anymore, probably because I've changed significantly, too. And I wonder, maybe a few years from now, how much of this I'm going to miss. And I wonder why I'm already starting to miss it.

I'm going to admit now, there was a point in time I couldn't wait to get out of high school. To forget everything, everyone. Take concern by its neck and hack it with one majestic swoop of apathy's scythe. That's what I wanted, to just stop caring, and for a complete void of memories. I wanted to throw all these years away, then stare solemnly at the sky for the rest of my life.

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, I'm selfish, I'm stupid. I hate it, I love you... It's just one big mess, really.

8:37am: Yeah, so apparently everyone is studying (question mark, exclamation point x1000000)
You will not distract yourself by hording more Julian Casablancas and Nick Valensi pictures by the megabyte even if... ooh, they're pretty.

You will study for your trimestral exams.

You will do your Math IW.

(This is me trying to supress hysterical laughter. Not a pretty sight.)

1:00pm: Gaw.
I don't really like the concept of sending birthday wishes through livejournal...

However.

Because everyone should know that she's the bestest former-ex-former-ex-former-ex-best friend ever. I continue to owe you for never judging me and letting my selfish bastardness prevail for... 9 years? And I know I don't say it often enough, so... I'll stick to tradition. ^_^ Happy birthday, my dear. ^_^

11:58pm: I am Jack's ability to babble
My lj's anniversary, hence a new icon (okay, fine, a modified one) and a new "layout". Yay me. ^_^

Oh, and it's my brother's birthday tomorrow. The year after that, he goes in limbo between passing teenagerism and not yet being an adult. (I regret to say that that reminded me automatically of a Britney song. Note: if this persists, must drown self.) Anyway, he was sweet today. He let me choose the restaurant because he was conveniently absent during my birthday. Yeah, well, it's the little things.

My mom found "Trainspotting" in my bookshelf. She gave me 5 community masses worth of homily, but that was mild compared to what I had imagined she'd do. Given the quasi-grounding I was subjected to when she found out I had the VCD of Fight Club... (Oh, gosh, curse my virgin eyes!) Hee. We've reached a new level of acceptance. (†applauds for the pleasantly blossoming mother-daughter affiliation†)

6:05am: I acknowledged a long time ago that birthdays won't always be these annual 24-hour festivals dedicated to me. Yeah, and this recognition has finally paid off. What with my inexhaustible feral headaches are the two tests I (Probably Not But Most Definitely) failed today, not to mention the CL oral exam I'm already on my way to flunking.

Of course, there were the people who tried to make it all better. Irma gets a prize for greeting me 13 times, An-An with 6. CMMIV... You'll never really find the perfect word to describe them. ^_^ And supposedly one of my best friends. Whose card read, "[pseudodrama here] ...but if the Care Bears ever met you, they'd probably kill themselves." So touching.

In other news, Dennis is still singing "Rain, Rain, Go Away." And it's. Cute. ^_^

7:57pm: (Note to self: Don't forget to write about anti-coloring pencil campaign soon.)

Anyway, I keep forgetting to post this dream.

I was walking through a garden, and there were all these animal sculptures made out of crap. I distinctintly remember there being a turtle, and the flies seemed partial to that particular one. Unfortunately, these were crap-eating flies, and the turtle was well on its way to dismemberment.

Anyway, I accidentally stepped on the frog-shaped shit, then it somehow got to my midcalf. Then my shoulder blades. So then this ancient tribesmanesque dude comes up to me and tells me that he can get rid of it. The process involved boiling rice on my back all the way to my shoulders. So when he performed that lovely ritual, it made this nice little fizzling sound, and everyone around me reacted to it. Then I sat up straight from my bent position and said, "No, guys, it doesn't hurt!" or something equally brilliant. Then the tribesman dude yelled, and I quote, "Shut up".

ThenIforgotwhatelsehappenedandthentheylivedhappilyeverafterandthemoralofthisstoryis...?

To quote Mrs. Borja, "Bloop bloop."

12:25pm: Great game. (...don't wanna don't hafta and you can't make me.)
So there you go. Lost.

I guess I was pretty desperate to see that passion can overcome even the most gargantuan of leviathans. (Cough. 300-something lbs of abuse and them size 20+ feet.)

But probably, more importantly, I needed to see that passion can't.

Okay, go ahead and laugh little derisive giggles. She's depressed because of some tall fellas fighting over a rubber ball -- ha ha, hee hee. Webber's very watchable finesse, Floppy (with all due respect) Divac's good/bad plays that can always bring a smile. Bibby's spectacular highs, Peja's unfortunate low. Bobby Jackson's high-spirited play. The facial expressions of Hedo Turkoglu. Their brand spankin' new maturity. Not depressed, but disappointed, and stripped of the brief flash of idealism.

And Dead Poets Society is my new favorite movie and I'd cuddle it if it were a pillow. (Exceptional topic transition. †grin†) Ethan Hawke was disturbingly cute. (Not so much physically. Don't worry, I'm not growing hormones here.) Disturbingly cute... like Obi Wan when he's slashed with Qui Gon. I'll stop now.

The original purpose of this entry, anyway, is to invite everyone to follow her lead and make Kobe voodoo dolls. I don't care for the Nets since they eliminated the Celtics, so I have enough time to make one for each of the Lakers. Yay me.

(Gather you rosebuds while ye may.)