Humor in the Third Person Perspective

Earlier, I was in the lib with Jean (Martelino) writing on the card things that come with the books–the thing where you write your name, student number, and college on–and I came upon a name that more or less resembled mine. OK, we have the same first name and it made me uncomfortable like hell. I SEEM to not like it when I learn someone has the same name as I and I would like to know what you have to say about this, concerned blog-hopper/walang-magawang-napadpad-sa-blog-ko.

I also read in Bianca L Canoza’s blog something about the impression that what you do isn’t really what you intend but what you want to show people that you can do or what you want to prove to yourself. It’s complicated and I can’t explain it well but it bothers me much, making me, an already paranoid teenager, even more paranoid. 

I also want to mention that I hate the fact that we only have two weeks worth of Philo 1 meetings: 6 meetings. Six *mura*ing meetings and no more Mr. Nicolo Masakayan who usually is the highlight of my MWFs. I would like to beat myself up for mentioning that. And prevent myself from ranting about My Solitude in LB again.

Si Roy pagtatawanan nanaman ako.

I’m supposed to be in this PC shop to type and finally put an end to the misery that is writing a philosophical paper about this play Subtext, but to no *mura*ing avail. (I don’t swear.) I’m going to complain about having to do it instead.

It’s a *mura*ing stupid play! It’s lame and weak and mainstream and stupid! It has three segments: one about an adult couple with Makati-office-jobs and their differences when it comes to text messaging, another about a college boy courting a high school girl through text messaging, and the last about an old married couple and a set of rather confusing love/hatemail unsent. The last one I really don’t get because — dem, ok. I just wasn’t paying attention. It was 9 in the evening and I was tired and the segment was all reading letters in full Filipino and you should know I really can’t stand such things without not paying attention, so…

Yeh, am hopeless. Its deadline is tomorrow and am still not done. Tis 9:30 in teh evening right now and am without a *mura*ing philo paper. My mother will kill me, no, worse, I will kill myself. Hell. *mura* (I’m positive, I really don’t swear, but with this migraine I have right now, I could really really really not be able to take it and burst in cussing chaos.) 

What’s even worse is that this is supposed to be my one and only (probable) chance to prove myself to my Philo teacher, who by the way is–I forgot the term. I know I argued with myself about this before. I know I considered a word to complete the sentence "Mr. Masakayan is so ____" in absolute conditions before. Gaaad. It’s not "cool" nor is it "cute" (but that could do if not for its local overusage)…

I think it’s "amazing".

"Amazing"?! (*mura*)

Anyway, yeah, he’s amazing. He discusses continually without any form of kodigo in front of the class, maintaining eye contact with all his students. He explains wordily (like I do), but everyone listens since he has that non-demanding aura that brings you to respect him immediately. His voice is soft and calm, and his back slightly arches which I think is due to all the thinking. Plus, he’s young, which explains the millions of fangirls who only squee behind his back and never talk during class. I, on the other hand, like to do both. Heeheeheehee.

But that philo paper–! IT’S ALMOST TEN!!! Gaaah!!! I’m not going to submit this trash I worked for three hours on the steps of third floor Vega Center’s fire exit staircase and vacant floor area! It’s confused and wordy and (me)! I’ll…i’ll…i’ll type the *mura*ing thing.

There will go my dignity. And all the recitation points I’m supposed to get in Philo1 in the future. Agh!

Sad Irish music plays.

I have to have Riverdance up with me in LB. Still, even after three months, I still have not settled. Or if I had, I may just not have realized it or it didn’t make itself be realized by me for some arbitrary reason. There’s something about the people there that resists me. Not that they’re not friendly. They’re friendly, but their friendliness doesn’t really go a long way; it’s like a dozen hi-hello-acquaintances, shallow laughter, daily jokes, and 2-minute conversations. I know it’s not very nice to speak of them this way while I myself am not doing anything about it, but I just don’t understand. I can’t blame it all on my age and all the hormones (but then again) much less the people themselves. I know I have to adapt if I have to, I just don’t know why I can’t or why if I don’t want to.

Ang labo ko talaga.

You must already be sickened by this entry. I should have just kept this to my notebook, but there’s something in me nudging me to share this, my condition.

So how do you characterize self-pity? Is this it? I feel this must be it. I hope it’s just a phase and that it doesn’t grow on me.

Last week, my father told me off and made me realize I was too self-absorbed. It struck me so that I considered stopping my notebook-keeping since it contributed a lot to my condition (if I may call it that). But then I figured what I just needed was some talking–I had to brighten up and loosen these brows which look more tied up right now than ever. And, dem, if not for those really cool drawings in my present notebook, I’d have been really willing to let it go. Dem.

I have to stop here or my brother would literally suck my nose again. Sorry for the depressing post and congrats to the Electron/Banyuhay people to have number-oned the District presscon again, especially to my trainee (I have a trainee!), Micah Lima, who did 2nd in Photography. Yay. Happy Birthday, Nadine.