Goodbyes are not forever.

Do I know you?

I think I do but I still ask myself that same question every day.

Do you know me?

You probably do. Half of me anyway. We’ve got everyday to get to know each other.

Is this for real?

Eh? What do you think,stupid? It is. It is as real as you and me. All that mind-reading games you’ve been playing will get you nowhere.

Why do you have to pretend?

Who’s pretending? And stop being so dramatic. We don’t have cancer and we sure as hell ain’t going to amnesia. This is not a koreanovela~

Stop countering my questions with another question. Just answer me. (Uh dude, that last line is just so fucking sad.)

Okay then. Because some things are better left unsaid. Ktnxbai.

Granted that’s true but..can you be truly happy?

I’m happy when you’re happy. Regret is a bitch but not that big a bitch as you and me, Partner.

True, true so are we here?

Yes. Yes, we are.

Stolen.

Random musings  when it comes to liking someone

by A Non Expert feat. “Teenage Dirtbag” by Wheatus.

Her name is Noel
I have a dream about her

In my case, the realization of liking someone usually sinks in when I start thinking about them during moments of isolation.

Scenario:

Tammy – on the way to school – is either (listening to a song) or (reading a book for her next class) or (just looking at the strangers inside the train)

WHEN SUDDENLY~

A THOUGHT OF *insert name here* ENTERS HER MIND. She smiles. She even laughs a little. Oh yeah, weirdo on the loose!

Oh how she rocks
In Keds and tube socks

People say love is blind. How am I supposed to know, I’ve never been in it before. However, I am a living testament to a new (or has it been said before?) saying: Like is blind. A stupid pun, I know, but don’t you agree? I think the sun shines on *insert name here* when he’s well, normal. He’s ordinary looking yet intellectually amazing. He has this weird, weird, weird sense of humor and I’m starting to like him in the “very much” sense. Haha, I can’t help but smile.

But she doesn’t know who I am
And she doesn’t give a damn about me.

Oh such woe.  These two lines are the embodiment of the annoying part in liking someone. It is one thing to like someone secretly and another thing for that someone to not even know you. Since I’m feeling optimistic today, don’t you give up! Who knows, your someone just might like you too.

Her boyfriend’s a dick
And he brings a gun to school

In all aspects of life, there will always be an antagonist.You know, those “I love to hate you and I hate to love you” kind of people. It sucks when antagonists are actually very nice people because hating them would make you seem like a jealous bitch who’s just sour-graping.

Man I feel like mold
It’s prom night and I am lonely.

Never underestimate the power of a jinxed day. There will be days when you’d feel like *insert name here* is ignoring you when actually, you’re just making a mountain out of a molehill. Trust me on this, it happens. When all things are fucked-up, just..relax. Chill. Things will happen when it’s supposed to.

She’s walking over to me
This must be fake
My lip starts to shake
How does she know who I am?
And why does she give a damn about

Oh the joy of knowing that *insert name here* knows of your existence, that you’re not just some friend/class mate/block mate/student (wtftammy) to him/her. *sigh*

Come with me Friday, don’t say maybe
I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby like you

This is a note to self: *insert name here* is not some God, he’s a person, a human being. Don’t expect too much but also don’t close your doors.

After all, he might just be a teenage dirtbag..like you.

Inferiority.

A group of students raised their right hands eagerly. Some of them were shouting their class numbers, grinning and begging for the teacher to call them.

I sat quietly. Brooding? Thinking? Contemplating on whether I should kick my chair and throw my activity book towards my good-for-nothing-whiteboard-talking teacher.

There she goes again, using that dull, dull, dull voice. (A flashback of my former Biology teacher actually came to my mind.) Oh yes, there she goes again, talking to the whiteboard when she was hired to teach freshmen so-called College Algebra.

NO MA’AM, not all Accountancy students are whizzes in Math.

NO MA’AM, not everyone of us remembers how to do that fucking Pascal triangle.

WE NEED YOUR HELP, MA’AM.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A PROFESSOR MA’AM, YOU’RE PAYED TO TEACH US, MA’AM.

Thankyouverymuch.

Numbers 13 and 20 are challenging me to a battle where the obvious victor is an inanimate thing. How am I supposed to fight with something I’ve always been slightly afraid of? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I curse myself for choosing this as my major. I curse my teacher for being lazy. Hell, I kind of curse myself for being lazy. I curse some of my block mates for being so fucking good in Math. Call it jealousy or whatever. B-but, I can’t help but feel inferior.

The bottom line is that. This is not just some rant about a useless Math teacher o a complex math equation, it’s a simple matter of feeling..helpless and stupid. God, I hate those words.

AND THEN I JUST CAN’T GET MYSELF TO GIVE UP. How can I when my future is on the line? How can I when I know that this is nothing compared to the obstacles I must face in the near future? Oh no no, I am everything but a quitter. So now I must end this with a promise that I will not let my insecurities faze me. This is me, fighting and running towards the unknown.

Kolehiyala Self On College Life

At long last! Hello, blog, hello! It is I, Tammy, your master and creator coming from a three-week long hiatus. College life was a dizzying blur of happenings that were stress-filled, annoying, full of crap (at times), challenging, and fun. I met lots of new people and am pleased to know that my fears are unfound – I’m actually quite good at making new friends. *winks*

But I must confess, my first week in College was filled with flashbacks and homesickness. I missed this and that. I miss my High School friends and..good old high school life. Those days when everything was more simple. But of course, we’ve got to move on with our lives and face challenges head-on and with a smile.

So..let’s talk about College Life!

The setting: University of Santo Tomas’ historical grounds, its buildings and other landmarks are..surprisingly soothing to look at. I like making “tambay” in the walkway near our building. My friend/s and I would just sit on benches and talk while the wind is blowing. It is one of my favorite things to do, esp. when I have to wait for classes to start.

I have this notion of the AMV building being out of place in our school because UST is filled with old buildings and our building is far from old. During lunch time, my friends and I would have to battle it out with the thousands of students for empty tables in the Car Park restos. Fuck those restos. I hate ‘em. McDo and KFC are ALWAYS cramped with students and the other fast food chains are too. God, I hate lunch time.

I LOVE “SIMPLE LIFE”, it’s a store located on the second floor of the AMV building/Car Park that sells different varieties of delicious tea for affordable prices!

The major and other shit: I am currently taking up B.S. Accountancy! I’m still adjusting and am still in a “getting-to-know” stage with my chosen major. I’m hoping for the best and..err, hoping. Haha.

I took the qualifying exam for “Accountancy Journal” yesterday and OHMYEFFIN-G! The exam was excruciatingly hard X 10. This sounds corny but the word “Nosebleed” popped into my head while I was taking the exam. *Sigh*

The courses: As of now, I like Business Administration 1 and Philosophy. I loathe Filipino and Biology. The other courses are a-ok. Math is still being a bitch and Theology is still praising the Lord but I’m getting the hang of it. This is a newfound realization: I actually enjoy studying. I hate listening to boring teachers but I really do enjoy reading school books. Yay to the new me!

The people: Like any other school, UST have its’ own set of awesome people and WTFDIEDIEDIENOW people. I belong in section 1 – A12 (the first section for the afternoon classes.) and in just three short weeks, some of my class mates have managed to piss off 4 teachers, thankyouverymuch. Coming from an all-girls’ school, the first week of school was really hard for me. I didn’t know that most teenage boys are noisy and immature. God, they’re chaotic. The change in the atmosphere was hard to bear – at first. I realized that comparing my old friends from the new ones is unfair and would result in nothing but negativity so here we are, I am managing just fine.

Self: I am loving College Life. Granted, it is hard and some people are total retards but this is the closest I get to the “real world”. This is part of a process, that intricate molding of the future you, the future me – our future selves. This is really it!

First Day Jitters

I hate introductions.

What’s your name? Where are you from?

It has awkwardness, forced smiles and butterflies in one’s stomach all rolled into one. A part of me is begging to be spared while another part is yearning for that experience.

The last time I’ve had to introduce myself to a bunch of new people was way back in 1999. I was the new kid but unlike other kids, I wasn’t afraid of meeting new people. My Mother used to tell me that I was one incredibly thick-skinned 1st grader who did not even look back when she left me in front on the gate of St. Bridget School. I wonder where that kid is. She’s probably still inside me. Who knows, that kid might help me face my first day of college.

Fast forward to 2009, I am about to enter new grounds. Life, as I knew it, is about to change. There are new people to befriend, new teachers to please and harder obstacles that must be faced. I can’t help but anticipate and dread. My optimism versus my pessimism.

Despite the nagging fear of humiliation (What if I slip up, what if I accidentally make some teacher hate me, what if afdjagdlajd) or the nervousness over meeting new people..I can hardly wait.

I hate introductions but I love challenges.

Oh, Future School!

OH WOE. Just when I was getting all hyped up for my first day high—The first day of classes in UST were moved from June 9 to June 15.

A (H1N1) IS A SWINE IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE. WTF, bad pun there, self.

I remember one “Going Bulilit” skit wherein the kids and Dagul played pigs and a Rooster respectively. The pigs were so sick of people blaming all viruses on them (They also mentioned Foot and Mouth disease) when it is actually our fault for locking them into the dirty pigshole they live in.

They’ve got a point there, friends. BUT DAMN..IF PIGS CAN SPEAK!

So..while I’m waiting for that fateful day to arrive, I’ve listed some things to do/things to buy:

1. Buy a decent umbrella. NEED I SAY MORE?
2. Put more songs into my iPod shuffle (for the long commute from my house to my school)
3. Buy an Armallite, a weapon I can use against the many bag snatchers, rapists and psycho kidnappers that surround my future school. I’m kidding–Well, not really.
4. In case an armallite is out of the question, a taser would be a good substitute. Don’t you think so too?
5. If all else fails, a long and sharp “balisong” can really help!
6. OKAY! FINE! I have a pair of scissors. Psh. *mumbles* Stingy.

I. CAN’T. WAIT!

I still have no uniporn uniform. As we all well know, the AMV-COA uniforms are the epitome of all things ugly and evil.

The (Make Believe) Superhero on Tammy’s future uniform:

Oh, Penpal. I will pray for your sanity. It’s not like people will laugh at you when you’re in front of them.

(They’ll backstab you with their laughter, but not to worry. You’re not the only one.)

… KAILANGAN MO MAGSUOT NG SUPER COOL DYAKET TWENTY-FOUR/SEVEN. IYAN LAMANG ANG NAIIISIP KO NA PARAAN.

PWEDE KA RIN SIGURO MAG-SUOT NG PAPER BAG SA IYONG ULO, PENPAL.

The last line kills. IT FRICKIN’ KILLS.

I would have totally loved my course if it weren’t for that sorry excuse for clothing. *Sigh* I’d be wearing that uniform for the next four years. Maybe I’d learn to love it? Nah.

Rain: Stop raining. This cold weather is bad for my already weird sleeping habits. Yesterday, I slept at around 7 in the morning and woke up at 5 in the afternoon. SERIOUSLY. I know, it’s scary. What if some vampire bit me while I was asleep? HEHSTFUTAMMY.

*Will go now before I say more stupid things*

Psst, You disgust me!

Psst!

The best way to handle a pervert’s unwanted call is to ignore it. You have a name and it’s not Psst.

What is up with most guys and their strange libidos? Why do they get turned on by just seeing a woman’s breasts? Word of advice: Go have breasts implants and stare at them all day long, that way, you don’t have to alarm a woman with your disturbing stares.

Having sexual urges is normal but having them in public while staring at an innocent woman’s privates is just plain sick. Go watch porn. Jesus, go screw yourself just don’t screw with other people’s peace of mind. Having some Pedophile-looking guy leer at you can be highly disconcerting and sickening.

Oh, I almost forgot about the Truck drivers–those mother-effin’ perverts! STOP WHISTLING. Most of them have minds that are about as clean as a gutter. I haaate them. I LOATHE THEM! I hope their trucks crash into a concrete barriers and they end up losing their penises. Bwahahaha. Good riddance.

A much better word of advice: If you can’t stop the urges do what Ronnie from Little Children did. That way, more women can sleep soundly at night. LOL, I’m exaggerating. I’m okay with the idea of men being sexually hyped dudes or rather, I’m used to it. I just hate it when they do the things I’ve mentioned above.

Keep in mind that inside my bag lies a pair of extremely sharp scissors

On “The Reader” and Frailty.

A month ago, I bought “The Reader” (Der Vorleser) by Bernhard Schlink for my Mother. Originally, it was to be a surprise birthday gift for her so I managed to hide it for three more weeks. Finally, when I can no longer stand the anticipation (You see, I wanted to read the book myself. Haha, evil self wins!), I presented the book and told her that it was a Mother’s Day gift from me. I could tell she was pleased for this is the first time I bought something for her with my own money.

“The Reader” is a brilliant novel that speaks of love, literature, sex, and shame. It begins with a fifteen year old Michael Berg falling ill on his way home and being saved by Hanna.

Months later, Michael went to visit Hanna to thank her for the help she has given him. He was surprised however by the attraction he felt for her, a woman twice his age and someone he barely even knew. Embarrassed after she saw him watching her dress, Michael ran out only to come back days later.

There began an obsessive, and sometimes emotionally abusive, affair. They had a daily ritual wherein Michael would read aloud for Hanna before taking a bath and making love.

In spite of their sexual relationship, they were quite detached from each other. Michael knew nothing much about the elusive Hanna and when she disappears one day, he thought he would never see her again.

He was wrong. Years later while attending law school, he became part of a group of students who watch war trials. Michael was shocked to learn that Hanna served as an SS guard for a concentation camp and was therefore being questioned in her part for the incident wherein 300 jewish women, after being locked in a church, died under their watch.

Michael was torn between his feelings of guilt for having loved Hanna, a criminal and his amazement at Hanna’s compliance to shoulder full responsibility for the crime despite evidence proving otherwise.

He learned then that Hanna hid a secret that she considered far more terrible than murder itself.

That’s where my short summary ends. I don’t want to spoil it too much because where’s the fun in that?

At first, I was a bit reluctant to read this book simply because it’s included in Oprah’s Book Club. I have nothing against that club but usually, the books they choose are not exactly my cup of tea. Now, I am glad to have read this book. I can say that without a doubt, this is one of the best books I’ve read so far.

I liked how it managed to show how love–how a simple awakening can change a person. How being broken can make someone detached from others.

People have different views on shame and we all have frailties that we would not love for the world to know and in this book, Hanna’s weakness may be considered dim by others but that’s how we, us humans, are. We usually don’t make sense. Our views, our standing  are not always necessarily right.

The magnitude of how a past generation’s mistake affects the viewpoints of the current generation is amazing. Most of Michael’s peers think they, unlike their parents, are blameless for they weren’t there and therefore had no power to change how things were but Michael asks himself:

What should our second generation have done, what should it do with the knowledge of the horrors of the extermination of the Jews? We should not believe we can comprehend the incomprehensible, we may not compare the incomparable, we may not inquire because to make the horrors an object of inquiry is to make the horrors an object of discussion, even if the horrors themselves are not questioned, instead of accepting them as something in the face of which we can only fall silent in revulsion, shame and guilt. Should we only fall silent in revulsion, shame and guilt? To what purpose?

Michael had a problem on grasping and understanding the Holocaust who according to him is “the past which brands us and with which we must live”, and therefor has been constantly trying to fully comprehend its’ meaning.

One thing that truly touched my heart was the love Michael had for Hanna and how that love changed him, not always for the better, but it did change him.

The book ended sadly, a bit wistfully but it was just right. It was brilliant.

A Fight Against The Noisy Twitard Brigade

Inside a book store: Our protagonist, who was quietly looking for a book, came across a group of girls who were gushing noisily about Robert Pattinson’s haircut and how unsuitable it was for his reprising of Edward Cullen in “New Moon”.

In spite of the fact that people have started looking at them and even when one middle age man told them to keep their voices down no, how can they when they’re talking about “the greatest book ever”? It’s inconceivable.

The Noisy Twitard Brigade, whose main goal in life is to talk about “the greatest book ever”, is ignorant of the raucous they’ve created.

The horror doesn’t stop there because one member of the Noisy Twitard Brigade stepped on the foot of our heroine and didn’t even apologize.

No evil eye, no deadly glare and no wicked stare can make that member of the Noisy Twitard Brigade change her ways.

This post was written to warn people of this group. Fortunately, no animals were harmed during this nasty experience.

Our heroine, who used to love the books and Edward Cullen, has nothing against Twilight itself but it ticks her off when fans of the series dub the books as “the next Harry Potter” or more idiotically, some think it’s better than Harry Potter. THEIR GENRES ARE DIFFERENT, Twilight is a lovey-dovey Vamp!Fic while HP, literally and metaphorically speaking, is a magical book. IT’S NOT RIGHT TO COMPARE THEM.

It makes our heroine unconditionally and irrevocably want to run them over with a stupid, shiny Volvo.

Yes, she read the book and even enjoyed in doing so but it’s far from being THE BEST FUCKING BOOK EVER.

P.S

The lion, the lamb and the dinosaur.

Northern Coverage: The First Day

After a five-day trip in Ilocos Norte and Ilocos Sur, my body wants to give up on me and sleep yet my mind bids me to write this post now knowing that giving it much further ado would make me forget relevant parts in my story-telling.

0429, Wednesday

Four hours before our supposed departure, I, instead of packing clothes, have re-watched “Pretty In Pink” and even wrote a post about it. Half an hour before 8 p.m, my Aunt arrived from the office and we were already frantic and screaming at each other for being too lazy and disorganized (story of my family’s life). Fortunately, we managed to arrive at the bus station at the exact time, thanks to my super powers! Yayz!

0430, Thursday

As I woke up, the bus was still moving as if the driver’s life depended on its’ speed. I opened the windows and was blinded by the beautiful rays of morning sun and was greeted by fields of crops unbeknown to me. Still, the call of sleepiness beckoned me and minutes after that moment, I feel asleep.

Commercial Break: GOD RAIN, STOP RAINING. IT’S SUMMER DAMMIT. (Present self is speaking)

Two hours later, we finally arrived in Laoag, Ilocos Norte. A tricycle driver greeted us and kept on badgering us to hitch a ride in his tricycle. We got duped, of course, and payed 45 pesos instead of 24 pesos. Why am I not surprised?

We arrived in Balay de Blas and were greeted by its’ caretaker who had the sweetest voice ever. All rumors about Ilocanos having very “malambing” voices are quite true. That guy won me over with his courteousness and of course, his sweet voice. La la la~

An hour later, my family and I ventured into the “beach paradise” that is Pagudpud. The bus ride from Laoag to Pagudpud was quite long and lasted for about an hour or two. Thankfully, its’ peaceful and beautiful sceneries managed to entertain us during the ride.

The beach in Pagudpud is a very fine-looking place but being a mountain kind of person, I wasn’t astounded by its’ beauty. We only took pictures in the beach because we had many places to go to.

After Pagudpud, the Windmills of Bangui were our next destination. The Windmills are MAAASSIVE and I say that with utmost honesty, I was expecting it to be at least eight stories high and was so effin’ surprised to witness its’ 23-story-high self swing in person (Lol, I speak as if the mills were a person..WHAT IF IT IS?!).

I tell you, it’s gigantic. Now I know why they put up windmills in that part of Bangui, the wind was TRULY and incredibly strong that the sand from the shoreline kept on hitting my legs, my eyes and all parts of my body that isn’t covered by clothes. Woah, seeing those mills is one unforgettable moment in my life. Hell, I swallowed thousands of sand particles by the feel of it.

After seeing those SciFi-like Windmills, we went to Burgos and went to see its’ famous lighthouse. Cape Bojeador is set majestically on a hill overlooking an ocean and has served as a lighthouse from 1892 up to the present.

We ate at La Preciosa and ordered Bagnet, Poqui-poqui and Warek-warek. Their Bagnet was so crispy and yummy and I also enjoyed eating their Carrot cake.

On our way back to Balay de Blas, we rode a calesa that’s being pulled by a beautiful and clean-looking horse. What I meant when I said “clean-looking” was that the horse looked like its’ owner truly love her/him and didn’t just use him to earn money because he was well-maintaned. He was such a cute and lovable horse and I felt kind of sorry for her/him. Being beasts of burden, horses are probably used to pulling and carrying people but I still feel sorry for them. I wish they can find a valley or something with lots of grass and with no people in it and they can live happily ever after.You know, sometimes I think human beings are the worst kind of animals in this world. Just because God gave us “dominion” must we abuse our so-called power? Blah blah, I must stop rambling.

The end of my Northern Adventure: Day 1. I’ll blog about the second day tomorrow.