Holy shit. It’s been more than a week already since I last posted anything on here! Wow. I feel like such a rebel against myself. I’m not slacking off on purpose, though, believe me. It’s just that the internet this past month has been closer to nonexistence than just being plain erratic. I won’t elaborate on the strange feelings of emptiness this version of asceticism has brought on, but let’s just say it eventually made me give up trying to reconnect to the wifi.
Anyway, hey hey. Nothing much going on in my boring old life (that’s what I always say when I post life updates, but end up writing walls of text anyway). Lots of academic stuff being put off until the last minute, some socializing, mixtapes-making, and crush-stalking. Life’s been OK, generally. More or less the same shit that’s been happening in my dull life since time immemorial.
But of course, it’s the nuances of this daily cycle of bullshit that gets my blood coursing and my fingers itching, so here we go with the long-overdue life update. Fuck that paper for my Lit Crit class that’s due in a few hours and which I haven’t even started on. Fuck it, really.
In no particular order:
1. Made a mixtape for my strange crush.
Let me make clear, though, that when I say strange, I mean she’s a stranger to me (haw haw haw, funny right? Fuck me, I’m lame)
Anyway, yes I made her a mixtape/CD. Have I talked to her yet? No, not once. Does she know of my existence? She probably does, given how we have been making some brief intense eye contact whenever she sees me (or is that just me?) (usually happens when I look for her everywhere on the campus and eventually find her in the canteen), but I doubt I made much of an impression on her mind. Have I given the CD to her yet? No, I haven’t. The artwork I had asked a friend to print has yet to make its way to me, and I haven’t seen her around the campus the whole previous week.
You might ask why I have to go running in, around, and across the campus just to get even a glimpse of her. Do we not have class together? No, we do not. Like I have said, she is a complete and total stranger, and apparently we do not have any common friends. I knew nothing about her except a hunch about where she lives and what time her classes start on some days and end on others (see this post; she’s the one I saw by the waiting shed), and even after having come across her Facebook profile by sheer luck (I mean it, it was pure luck) I didn’t find out much, because her profile was kind of private. What I did find, though, was that she was pretty fucking rich.. And that she’s probably not as young as she seems. As in, she’s probably pursuing a graduate degree. If I’m not a cougar, I’m a mama-san clinger; yes, because my generation sucks.
She won’t want anything to do with a greasy teenage dirtbag living in a dump like me, so I trust that when I thrust the mixCD into her hand and run away without looking back, she won’t attempt to make further contact. That would probably be for the best.
2. I had a lucid dream and I didn’t panic out of it.
First time this happened, I believe. I have had a couple of lucid dreams in the past (lucid in the sense that I could control my thoughts, though why it never occurred to me to control my actions I can never understand), but back then whenever I realize that I was dreaming, my consciousness would kind of float halfway out of the dream—one foot out the door, so to speak—and my body is left paralyzed even as my eyes move around.
The first time I fully experienced it was pretty bad; I got caught in three levels, and I was thrashing and screaming all throughout. I saw some mildly weird things, like my high school classmates—complete with uniform—standing beside the bed, and I couldn’t see their faces. I was screaming at them to notice me, to wake me up, things like that. Then I calmed down and felt my eyes open, only to find that it was just another level of the dream. That was my first time dreaming in multiple levels, I believe, and it was sort of lucid, so it rightfully freaked me out.
The last time, though, I was able to control the dream to a large extent. I remember the exact starting point of the conscious experience, though I can’t tell if there was any dream before that. I remember the first scene of the first sequence as me waking up on the floor of one of my classrooms, and it turns out a class was going on—my Media Studies class. My prof—who is actually rather charming and good-looking if not a little effeminate and somewhere in his forties—was standing in front of the class behind me, and from the moment I realized what was going on around me I had known it was a dream, and that I could pretty much do what I wanted. I won’t go into the details (lest somebody from school finds this), but well.. Let’s just say some lewd things went down, involving the teacher’s table.. And another professor. Hee haw. Telling how, when given the opportunity to control matters in the school, I make a beeline for the repressed sexual feelings I harbor for these profs. Freudian shit!
3. I have discovered another addition to my sicknesses: ADHD Combined Type.
It would explain a lot of the insecurities and problems I’ve been having regarding my cognitive processes and its apparent deterioration. As for it being combined: you know how there’s ADHD and there’s just ADD, without the H? Well, the Combined type is exactly what you think it is: it’s both. Or at least, this type has characteristics from the two extremes, e.g. I am shy and withdrawn due to anxiety and often lacking energy like ADD sufferers, but I’m often agitated by slow things and I often forget things I need to do, like the ADHD types. At first I thought had just ADD, but then I figured I ought to be honest with myself and admit that I am not as entirely sloth-like as is required to be deemed ADHD-PI (another term for ADD; the PI to mean Predominantly Inattentive), plus I have bouts of internal rage. Another interesting possibility is a little something I found called SCT, or Sluggish Cognitive Tempo. he name itself suggests plainly what it’s about, and it’s a lot similar to ADHD-PI , except—well, psychologists think they’re different. The symptoms do account for a lot of the things I’ve been feeling that were left unexplained by the BPD, though there are still holes in the picture needing to be covered by answers, like the rage I often feel and the narcissistic self-loathing. This does cast light on some things previously in the dark, though. Not sure if I should be glad or not..
4. The Big C is starting to clue in on things, though still remarkably slow.
Oh man, this involves quite a bit of a back story. Hmm. Well, to make it short, she used to be our friend until we realized how stupid and self-centered she was—especially after she did something extremely stupid and potentially life-wrecking that we as her once-friends told her not to do, upon her request—upon which we proceeded to distance ourselves from her, if only to save ourselves from popping a vein every time she spoke. It may sound evil and inconsiderate, but that’s the best I can put it without launching into the details of why she ought to transfer to a less rigorous university and a more child-friendly school.
Anyway,a big part of our frustration with her was how she couldn’t seem t take hints. She would talk to us and make her dumbfuck irritating and downright offensive banats and laugh her annoying laugh every single day without paying to mind how strained and cold our interactions with her had become. I was quite alright with completely ignoring her (it came with so much ease, oh my), but the others were too careful to not rip it off too quick, and in turn she processed this as signs of “AOK”. Eventually, we had taken to going to places & purposely leaving her out of the plans. She must have begun noticing this, because once when she was walking with one of our friends she talked to her about how me and my best friend (she used to hang with us a lot) were apparently seeming very distant, though she was probably just talking about him. We convened, and laughed at the progress she had undergone.
It all sounds so evil now, I know—even as I read it I can’t help but want to punch myself in the face—but I am more or less secure that I’d rather protect myself and the friends that actually matter to me and be evil in the process than to plaster on a fake smile and let my soul(?) be ruined by her actions which I truly despise, and the endurance of which therefore is tantamount to kaplastikan. I’ll elaborate the details one day, when I get the time and the decent internet connection.
5. My best friend is leaving for the USA next sem, and he will be gone for a year.
I seriously do not know what’s going to happen to me without him. He’s the only one that only really tolerates me, and in turn he’s the only one I ever really tolerate. In fact, if I were hard-pressed, I’d say he’s the only true friend I have made from college. The thought of having to sit through classes alone without him terrifies me, and walking alone through the corridors and the canteen for an entire year is a nightmare in itself. it’s not just because of my selfish desire to have someone with me to shield me from the false socializing and the occasional shock of idiocy from the general campus populace; it’s the fact that I will be losing the one true and good friend I had been hoping to keep forever. Sure, he’d be returning in a year, but who’s to say he hasn’t forgotten us by then? And especially me? I’m an especially irritating fuck, and probably the only reason he stuck with me is because no one else operates on approximately the same level of cognition as him. We may not always be thinking the same things, but at least we get what the other is trying to say. It’s very nearly a functional and self-servicing friendship, and to be honest I would be crippled without him. Who else would dissuade me from my bouts of irrationality and paranoia? Who else would show me new Daft Punk stuff? Who would I bug about Justice and EDM in general? Who am I going to exchange poems with to subject to literary criticism? Oh man, the one time I find a friend worth keeping, things turn out shitty. Hopefully it doesn’t turn out shitty for him, though. I’m glad he’s going to get a chance to live somewhere other than this rust bucket. I will miss him, though; sorely and severely.
6. I have acquired new material possessions.
Moving on from more sober matters to generally shallow bits of my life that I find pleasing, I am glad to show that I have once again amassed for myself a small fortune of trinkets and important things that I have taken a photos of to showcase. Here be they:
In the first photo, on the left, is a mini balisong Papa found in the junk or somewhere (it’s part of our living). It’s finely crafted, for something so small, and I have reason to believe that this blade came all the way from the balisong center of the country, Batangas. And even if it wasn’t, I’d keep it anyway, because Papa gave it to me. Also iit is pretty cool-looking.
In the second is yours truly, holding up the newly-bought “Whit” by Iain Banks to cover my face (because I am just that considerate). I bought it for 75 bucks at Booksale Baguio, and I’ve never been this proud of a Booksale purchase before: it’s in very good condition, though visibly aged, for 75 bucks worth, and it’s a good book. I bought it just this Friday, before I went home to the city, hence the bus ticket bookmark. I have since finished half of it and I dare say it was worth every penny. So excited for how it ‘s going to end; I just hope it doesn’t disappoint, like the start of all good things.
The third is the group photo of all that is concerned except for me, because I’m the one taking the photo. Included are a new pair of vibrantly-coloured but severely comfortable stretchy shorts given to me by Mama this noon, and which I am excited to wear at home in Baguio. On the laptop screen is the new One Ring screensaver I had copied from my friend Janyka. Pretty cool, huh?
7. I took selfies.
I won’t even try to rationalize this and explain myself anymore; let’s just chalk it up to the early morning sunrise. Here’s a photo of the not-so-pretty but uniquely-featured face this blog runner has on during the wee hours of the morning.
8. I didn’t do the paper that was due last night for my Lit Crit class.
Don’t get me wrong; I love that class so much, but the story that needed to be analyzed was an awful story in itself, filled with gay romantic bullshit and preposterously trying-hard turn of phrase. I had hated it the moment I had laid eyes on it a few months before. It had no impact, no masterful prose to speak of (the entire thing looked like it was translated by Google Translate), and just in general too much kalandian for everyone’s sakes. I gave up on it. And besides, if I hadn’t given up, who would have posted this long-ass life update?
And that’s all, folks.