beingbeaple

A Pile of Opaque Vinegar Containers

2006-10-06T23:16:00.000-07:00

That's what I saw today on the way home from school, balanced at the rear of a small motorcycle handled by a rugged-looking man who was staring at the road with glassy eyes as if he cared nothing about the world as long as he'd get to his destination. The CSAT - College Scholastic Aptitude Test - was held this morning and even though our proctor informed us that that thing was just a gauge to see how well we'd fare in college, I'll forever think of CSAT as just another entrance test that I must go through in preparation for my future. Not to boast or anything like that, but the CSAT wasn't as difficult as I expected. As some might know, I haven't studied all too well for the test because I was too caught up in my newfound fascination for the Internet. If the UPCAT and the ACET were periodical exams, then CSAT was a quiz - one of those long, difficult ones our teacher in Accounting often gives us. Difficult, but a quiz, nonetheless.

I'm sure I didn't do too well for this QUIZ - I'm not even confident enough to say I think I passed. But our school gave us a mock exam to prepare us for the CSAT and the people I've spoken to about this matter all think our mock test was harder than the actual thing. And unlike the other "Reasoning Tests" I've taken before, I had fun with the Inductive Reasoning section of this QUIZ. I think I was even smiling while I answered the Number and Letter Series Part...

To be honest, I think the most difficult part to answer was the survey thing on page three of the answer sheet. The questions were about me, me, me. Well, a bit of my family background too (Highest Educational Attainment of both parents, monthly income, the list goes on...) but the whole thing was basically intrapersonal. I had fun answering all the questions but it took me quite some time to think about my answers. Especially when I had to gauge my own capacity as an individual...

Above Average
Average
Below Average

I think I had seven above average answers (stubborness is one of them), about ten average answers (I finally had the guts to say my self-confidence was average and not subnormal as I used to think it was), and one below average answer (athletic ability - hurrah!). I remember worrying about my answer to the self-confidence thing. Nanoseconds after reading the question, I immediately answered BELOW AVERAGE but after I had finished answering everything, I had a mental debate with my inner child and I ended up shifting my little shaded oval to AVERAGE. I seriously recall grinning like the cat who swallowed a rat - or however the idiom goes - after answering that thing.

Check out the Young Blood article in today's edition of the Philippine Daily Inquirer - my favorite newspaper, by the way. It's called 'Fugly' once and it's written by some 28-year-old lady who, for some reason known only to her and her 'allies', goes by the pseudonym Crispy. Even though I'm not as old as she is, I can almost fully relate to the stuff she wrote in her essay.

Page A13, Opinion, PDI October 6, 2006

(so no one can sue me and say I'm engaging in plagiarism)

"I was the kid who excelled in school, so I used to hear that line (Sa akin yata nagmana 'yan!) whenever I brought home my report card or flashed gold medals or earned merit ribbons from a declamation contest or a Science quiz bee. And it felt good.

"But it felt different when I heard one of them say 'Kamukha mo siya,' and the other protested, 'Hindi, mana siya sa 'yo.' Sadly, I was the kid they were talking about when both of them jokingly denied any genetic responsibility for my less-than-dazzling looks. It seemed as if nobody wanted to be my kamukha...

"I heard those remarks when I was 13 years old, and that was when I came to realize that I was not beautiful. I struggled through my teen years up to my early 20s with a lot of hang-ups and insecurities, thinking I was smart but 'fugly' (f--king ugly)."

Although my parents would never have the heart to do to me what her parents did to her, the rest of the world has sort of done THAT to me countless times already. Maybe it's because I've grown up with cover-worthy friends... I mean, maybe that's why I feel like a poisonous, spotted toad next to some unicorns. Sometimes I feel as though people go to me only to become close to my other friends and that feels bad because I don't like being used!

And the jokes? Oh, the horrors those seemingly harmless jokes bring! When others call me pangit or something synonymous to that, I laugh a bit to avoid awkwardness but when I'm alone, I start thinking they're right. There was even a time when I tried to convince myself to stop looking at mirrors so that I wouldn't see my pimples, my eyebags, my frizzy hair, and all the other blemishes that have bombarded me like meteors since the day I hit puberty.

Even though I fully believe in my capacity to do certain things that others can't, there are times when I feel as if I'd rather not be able to do so much as long as I'd look at least presentable. Honestly, my insecurities have dragged me down so low these past years that a lot of heinous things have occured in my life - because of my own doing and lack of self-esteem.

But now, I guess I'm improving. I'm finally starting to live by the line: you can have it all, you just can't have it all at once. Maybe someday soon I'd be able to look past the dozens of imperfections that flash back at me each time I pass a reflective surface and see into the eyes of a girl who has discovered her true purpose and completed her mission here in this fleeting world where everything flies by in a whirlwind of dust, ashes, and memories.

Besides, I should feel lucky to be blessed with a complete set of body parts, a wonderfully stable environment, and the potential to be someone great if only I'd believe in myself and my ability to achieve. I may not be perfect - but in my imperfections lies my hidden greatness.

Which reminds me - what were we talking about again?

Oh yes, the CSAT.

.....

I seriously want to get good grades on that thing, you know. Xavier University is actually quite a good school...

Sigh. If only it wasn't just one ride away from home.

Blogs, Friendster and Friendship

2006-10-06T06:15:00.000-07:00

There are times when I feel too tired to go to school on Fridays. Days like these are too laid-back and activity-less for my taste and preference. Days like these are like innocent sheep lost in a week full of grueling discussions and lectures resembling a pack of hungry wolves. It was wonderful to be assigned to cover an invitational game at CU this morning - at last, something to break the monotony of a senior's schedule!

Watching the game was like therapy to my frazzled nerves. When I hopped on the school van this morning, I was quite pissed of about something regarding my wicked, cruel, so-called love life. After watching a few hours of great basketball though, I felt refreshed and I suddenly found myself laughing at things I would have found mundane given normal circumstances - such as pictures of varsity team players posing by a car that looks like it belongs to Mr. Bean. Even though the game ended with a tie - 51 all, no overtime, long story, don't ask - and even though I was sort of downhearted that we didn't win, I was still overwhelmed by the wonderful experience of visiting a school full of welcoming students, a hospitable faculty, and a Shakey's booth on Foundation Day - how come we don't have booths like that during our school events?

Maybe I'm just trying to find a better way to say I was relieved to be excused from having to attend morning classes today....

I really should be studying for the CSAT right now but I can't bring myself to lift a pen and solve mathematical problems. I mean, our school has trained us long and hard for this thing - enrichment classes every Saturday!

But seriously, the things I've learned from the enrichment classes are these:
- for the Science part of the test, details about the questions are given in the testpaper so all you have to do is read and understand
- it really pays to be a bookworm sometimes - it comes in handy because when exam time comes you don't have to pore over a tottering pile of vocabulary reviewers because you already know most of the words
- for Math, I've learned that... wala... not that our teachers haven't taught us anything... it's just that I'm really hopeless in Math - end of story!

You know why I couldn't study tonight? I was too eager to surf the net and search for Aimee Capinpuyan's blog - I've heard she's sensational! I did try to review my skills in Math Proficiency but when I got to question number 16 or so I gave up and just hooked the laptop to get some form of recreation. And I searched for Aimee's blog - swear, it's so super! Super funny because of the way she says the stuff on her mind. Super honest because that entry about the Nursing Exam Retake almost made me cry. Super cool to look at - her blog design's even cooler than mine!

Seriously, we should consider promoting that girl to a higher rank in the school paper. She's really talented... She reminds me of someone, actually. Someone obssessive about grammar, someone really intelligent, someone who thinks he's a loner, someone great.

Just some friend of mine, in case you're wondering.

Ooooh... you should also read Peej Bernardo's blog. I first read about him in Candy Magazine - probably my addiction - and I was amused by his witty take on something as posh as a soiree. So the moment I got my own dial-up, I googled him and read some bits of his thoughts. He's ultra deep and very reflective - then again, he's twenty-seven so it must be THAT. You should check out his blog if you're fond of soliloquys and such.

To informally close this entry, I would like to announce that I am officially a member of Friendster. I was actually planning to sign up for friendster when I'd turn sixteen next April but when I read Aimee's blog I desperately wanted to comment about some stuff she wrote. Access was for Friendster people only so I signed up.

As simple as that.

So visit me please. If you can find me...

accidentally on purpose

2006-10-05T06:34:00.000-07:00

I never should have worn my mother’s sneakers for this afternoon’s PE class. It was raining cats and dogs and the pair – being holey and mesh-like in terms of design – was waterlogged. Those shoes were perfect when they were dry that when I wore them I felt as if I was floating on air or something like that. But when they got wet because of the rain I felt so dragged down, cold and damp.

Pardon me for the poor comparison, but a typical human is like my mother’s pair of shoes. When he’s happy, it’s as if nothing wrong could come his way, as if life was so light and he could spend the rest of his days floating like a cloud in the heavens. But when he’s sad, it’s as if nothing could be right in his life, as if every day was just another pitiful view of the miserable existence earthlings spend in this world.

But I think it’s also important to note that no matter how wet a pair of sneakers may be there are thousands of ways to dry it. There’s the traditional sun-drying technique, then there’s the washing machine dryer method, and there’s always the kiln-drying procedure, but you could always try to burn calories while drying the sneaks by fanning them manually. You don’t always have to wait for the shoes to dry by themselves for you can always intervene and come up with a faster solution to fix the moisture excess predicament.

There are other options to desiccate the offending articles of clothing just as there are many ways to lighten up a depressed person’s mood. If you’re depressed, why not go watch a movie starring your favorite celebrity or read a good book while sipping a mug of hot chocolate? Why not have a surfing spree at the nearest net café with a good friend or start a portfolio of poems and short stories?

Don’t be sitting by the window, looking at the raindrops slowly dripping from the gutter, clacking away your miseries and frustrations into a laptop. No one deserves to be that lonely, not even those people who steal cheap cologne from department store aisles. It sucks to feel that way, as if no one understands you because you can’t make them understand. It kind of makes you want to do a Vincent van Gogh impersonation and cut off an ear – we learned about his loss of sanity in our Arts lecture this afternoon. But that would be too bloody and if you really are terrified of blood – spare the type that comes out of the female system during ‘you know what’ stages – you would be better off sitting by the window, looking at the raindrops slowly dripping from the gutter, clacking away your miseries and frustrations into a laptop.

The way I’m doing all that right now.