I hate you, oh CRS. Not only did you not give me a Biology 11 class, you had to take away the Psych 155 you gave me in the 2nd enlistment run! GIVE ME BACK MY CLASS, DAMN IT! And give me a Bio slot while you’re at it. I cannot not take Bio 11 this sem! I don’t want to take it over the summer! Curse you! I’m just glad you let me keep my Psych 162, because if you didn’t there will be hell to pay. Heeeellll!!!

 Edit 6:23 PM : They gave it back! I have my 155 slot back! Wheee!

I already have most of my grades for the semester (We had our Math finals just yesterday and my prof had our standings ready by this morning. He has nothing better to do. Haha. Peace tayo, Sir :P). To my surprise, I actually got good grades! I’m actually going to get a 1.something in Math! And the chances are high that I won’t get a grade lower than 1.75! Now that’s a first for me.

My Psych 118 grade is the only one I’m waiting for. When I get that, I’ll release some of our research results to those who requested it.

That was one hell of a semester. Good God!

So, it’s sembreak. What now?

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I’m turning twenty in 10 days or so.  I almost forgot about all about that.  Not that it really matters anyway, since I stopped caring about birthdays as soon as I grew too old to hold parties at McDonalds.  Sometimes I expect something special ought to happen on my birthday, but nothing ever does, and all it ever turns out to be is an excuse to ask my parents for an expensive gift.

Still, I am turning 20 - isn’t that supposed to be a milestone of sorts, like that time when girls turn 18 and blow their parents’ money on a really grand party?

Hm. 20. No thanks to that extra year I took in grade school,  I’m older than most of my friends - my batchmates in college.  Once I turn twenty, that one-year age gap will be more pronounced; there won’t be a -teen in my age anymore.   I guess that’s supposed to make me feel bad and old, but it doesn’t.  I bet I won’t miss being a teenager much, anyway, not if those years were the dumbest you’ve ever had.  And especially not if those dumb years are the only years you’ve had so far. There isn’t much glory in being young and stupid.  I’d rather be old and sure of myself than young, bumbling and whiny - although that last part probably won’t change, hahaha.

So I’m guessing this coming-of-age shiznit deserves a celebration.  Take a break from the hustle and bustle of school (which I am hating right now) and just unwind with the people you love. Actually, I’m thinking of taking a couple of high school friends out to lunch or something.  Most of them study in UP but we never get to hang out in school, so this’ll be an excuse to see them after so long.   But they’ll probably be busy, and I probably will be, too.  And my college friends… well, they have as much free time as I have, which isn’t much to speak of.  So no plans. Yet. Who knows.

In other news, Blogger is a fricking RETARD for suspending our group blog for “violation” of their Terms of Services.  They thought our blog was a spamblog. Stupid! We can’t even add entries, which sucks because I would really really love to rant right now.  I’d hate to go all emo-shitty again, so let’s just leave it at that.

Believe me, normally I try not to be a drama queen. But this week wasn’t normal at all; in fact, it’s the shittiest week I’ve had in ages. Finagle’s Law of Dynamic Negatives really held true: anything that can go wrong, will—at the worst possible moment. And it did.

I’m not so sure if it’s safe to disclose what made this whole week so awful. The most I can probably say is that I was overwhelmed by things I had no control over, coupled with a zillion exams for stupid shit subjects I don’t care about, by stupid shit teachers that don’t care about their students. I think I’m making myself sick with anger and sadness. I can’t help it. When I’m upset, I tend to dwell on it, and I can’t seem to stop.

And to think the week’s not over yet. What the fuck. Can I just forget that this whole week had to happen?

Tags: Divisoria, 168 mall, college

I adore fashion, but I don’t really devote as much time and money to it as I would like. Especially for school. All I need is a nice top, jeans, and slippers/sandals and I’m out the door. I’m not big on accessories and jewelry, either. With everything else I have to worry about, my outfits are the least of them. I find it impractical to be all dressed up just for school, especially since I do a lot of walking and occasional commuting. Also, I would never purchase a top that’s more than 500 bucks if I’m only going to wear it for school. I’m no fashionista, but I try to make sure my clothes are aesthetically… acceptable. And the easiest way to do that is to buy a bunch of colorful tops with funky designs. My friend Karen once said that the tops I wear are tops only I can pull off. Aww. She’s so sweet.

Since I had no meetings lined up for the day, I tagged along with my sister and mom to Divisoria’s 168 Mall to shop for some school clothes. Whee. I love shopping at Divisoria; not only are the tops cheap, they’re really cute, too. I wasn’t able to buy much when I went to Divisoria last week with my friends because Tiff criticized the tops I chose ;p I only bought one top ( I didn’t bother showing it to Tiff. hee hee. ;p). But today I was able to buy a week’s supply of tops, along with a few shoes and bags. Wheee!

Something really annoying happened to us, though. So we went to this stall that sold really cute dresses. I saw one I really liked: a red floral dress with a satin bow that wasn’t attached to the dress- you have to tie it in a ribbon around your waist. So I tried it on, but on my way to the dressing room I accidentally stepped on the bow and dirtied it a little. The dress didn’t fit, but the owner demanded we pay for it anyway because I had “damaged” it already. She said there was no way to remove the stain from the satin bow. Uhm, what the fuck? Okay, I would understand if I ripped the dress or stained it with a permanent marker. But it was dirt, not paint or anything permanent like that. I don’t see how you can’t remove a little dirt from a ribbon. She couldn’t even give a good answer when we asked her why they can’t remove the dirt themselves. The owner was obviously trying to rip us off. My mom was willing to pay for cleaning or whatever, but refused to pay for the whole dress. Besides, my sister saw a top she liked, so it’s not like we weren’t customers. Eventually, the owner let it pass. I’m never going back there again. How dare she try to con us into buying something we don’t want. What a creep.

–

And so the most uneventful first week of school I’ve ever had is over. My classes and classmates are all right. I finally met my Math 100 professor. She’s really nice.  I will make it.

My friend and I promised that this semester, we will emulate the study habits of two of our batchmates with summa cum laude standings. We hypothesized (how very Psych of us) that if we study the way they do, maybe we’ll get better grades. Even boost our Grade Weighted Averages to summa cum laude standings as well. Ha ha. We observed the pair of them, and noticed that they seem to spend every spare minute reading something academics-related. Be it required reading material, a textbook, etc. They read it during those idle minutes before the professor arrives, in general assemblies, at lunch, in the tambayan etc. They read chapters in advance as well. Whoa. I wonder how I’m going to pull that off. I can’t even bring myself to read the chapters my professors asks us to before going to class, much less read in advance. I’ll probably start with diligently reading the required reading materials so I go to class prepared for the day’s lecture. That way I don’t have to cram like mad before exams. Ha ha.

My Psych 150 told us to read the first two chapters of “Theories of Personality” for Monday’s lecture. I think I ought to start on that right now.

Or not.

A high school acquaintance recently got a Globe number and availed of that Unlimitxt thing (something I’ve never tried myself since I have the post-paid plan). Ever since, she has been spamming my inbox with insensitive forwarded text messages every goddamn day. No, scratch that. Make it every 6 hours. What the hell. I wouldn’t mind this much if it wasn’t so obvious that she was forwarding the same goddamn message to every Globe number in her phonebook. I don’t even bother reading them, I delete them right away.

Take note, she is an acquaintance (who actually wasn’t very nice to me anyway), not a friend. I only appreciate forwarded text quotes when they are from friends, who usually send me quotes that are meaningful to whatever’s happening to me at the moment. But otherwise, I hate forwarded text quotes because they’re exactly that - forwarded, thoughtless and insensitive. I am sure you can tell when someone is just mindlessly forwarding you a quote, or when they picked it out especially for you. And the first indicator of that is if that someone really knows you well, who will only send you quotes he or she thinks might help you.

Honestly, I am very sentimental with my text messages. My cellphone is so filled up with text messages that when my inbox runs out of space, it pains me to delete any of my saved messages. Once my phone memory cannot accommodate them, I write them down. And a good 90% of them are real messages that have touched me, or made me laugh, or made me feel loved, because I know those were sent only for me.

In conclusion, quotes are tolerable, just don’t send one every fucking day. Besides, if you want to touch someone’s heart via text, send them a virtual hug or kiss, or ask them how their day was, or tell them that their favorite artist is on TV, or tell them about something you saw today that reminded you of them… DON’T USE FORWARDED QUOTES, DAMN IT. Do that only when you think it applies to your friend. Otherwise, DON’T TEXT ANYTHING THAT WILL MEAN NOTHING to the recipient.

Oh, and make sure you’re in an actual, mutual friendship.

People are like Google - we all like fresh content.

Ha, weak analogy, I know. Blame my mom, she was the one who told me that fun fact.

But seriously. It’s human nature to be fascinated by new things. We like things better when they’re fresh off their packaging, all sparkle-y and shiny.

But when the novelty is gone, we lose interest. Then we start taking the old things for granted. Because once the dust settles, we tire of the same old things.

And the same old people.

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I am writing this at my own risk, but what the hey.

I don’t get why some bloggers people take it upon themselves to argue about everything. And I especially hate it when they think they’re the judge of everyone’s intellectual capacity. I mean, really. Ever heard of choosing your battles? You know, the debates that are actually worth the discourse (and by discourse I mean not throwing insults like a fucking child)? Really now, your petty annoyances are hardly earth-shattering, so kindly spare the poor and unassuming people you so needlessly attack from all that drama.

Sheesh.

I hope you don’t mind, I’d like to start this entry with a little rant.

I hate it when people twist my words. And what I hate even more than that is having to explain myself. What the hell.

Whatever. I’ll just write about something else.

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Tags: clingy significant others, love, relationships, love schemas

I have completely given up on studying for my Chem 1 exam tomorrow. I mean, I crawled my way through a 2.25 in Chem 16 last semester- I should have at least retained a little of what I slaved for.

So let me just talk about something that’s been bugging me. It’s about couples of the romantic kind. See, there’s nothing wrong with being crazy in love with your significant other. Sometimes, there’s nothing wrong about showing the entire public how crazy in love you are with your significant other. When done with good taste by tasteful people, it looks kind of sweet. Back in high school at dismissal time, I saw our batch’s golden couple sitting on a bench, the girl resting her head on the guy’s shoulder. They were just sitting there, so comfortable enough with each other’s presence that they didn’t need to talk. T’was a lovely sight - the kind that Hallmark cards and picture frame inserts are made of.

However, announcing to an entire mailing list (with a hundred or so members you don’t even know) that you now have a boyfriend/girlfriend; flooding your friends’ Multiply and Friendster bulletin with useless messages on how much you miss your “baby”; displaying pictures of you and him/her making out on ALL your online accounts (along with a hideous layout and Piczo hearts that force-quits even the most stable of browsers) ; calling each other “husband” and “wife” - ugh, god help you. Gushing about your “baby” on your blog or Friendster profile is almost forgivable, almost. But being utterly obsessed with one another and letting the whole world know see it is not. (MORE?)