super psycho(n.) an immensely disturbed individual who is obsessed with ranting, whining, and blabbering about his life. severely unstable and emotionally undefined, a super psycho should always be dealt with at a distance greater than 50 feet and, with some few doses of aspirin.
WHO THE HELL IS SUPER PSYCHO?
Name:Empermeen Mallawee
Nickname:Elp, Elf, Elfer, Elper, Emper, Empermeen, Buknoy, Boknoy, Bok, Mallawee
Age: I am 15. And I mean it.
Address: Honestly?
Favorite Color: Green, Orange
Favorite Food: Rodic's Jumbosilog
Motto in Life: Abolish our selves.
Favorite High School Subject: Biology
Most Hated High School Subject: Values Education
Most Unforgettable Experience: When I abolished my self.
Most Embarrassing Experience: When I abolished my self.
Who is your Crush: My self.
Do you think autograph questions are dumb?: Super.
So why are you answering this?: Why do you care.
Ambition in Life: To be a Super star.
What is Love: Love is what you say when 'horny' doesn't sound right.
If you were a deodorant scent, what would you be?: Natural Scent.
Your film biopic's title would be: E-pal
One word that best describes you: Magnificent.
What can you say about PGMA?: She has a mole on her face.
How about Josepha Estrada?:His stomach is really big.
How about Angel Locsin?:Her face looks too small.
Your alter ego's name is: Kokey
Dedication: World Peace.
Any Last Words?: Rrrawwrr.I'M EVERYWHERE!
We're Just Friends...ter
Yahoo Me, Yahoo You
GIMME MORE! MORE...BLOGS
Allan Habon
Riley Palanca
Aio Arzadon
Cess Carlos
Leya Sumbeling MY FANS SAY THAT...
A HISTORY OF PSYCHOSIS
Nickname:Elp, Elf, Elfer, Elper, Emper, Empermeen, Buknoy, Boknoy, Bok, Mallawee
Age: I am 15. And I mean it.
Address: Honestly?
Favorite Color: Green, Orange
Favorite Food: Rodic's Jumbosilog
Motto in Life: Abolish our selves.
Favorite High School Subject: Biology
Most Hated High School Subject: Values Education
Most Unforgettable Experience: When I abolished my self.
Most Embarrassing Experience: When I abolished my self.
Who is your Crush: My self.
Do you think autograph questions are dumb?: Super.
So why are you answering this?: Why do you care.
Ambition in Life: To be a Super star.
What is Love: Love is what you say when 'horny' doesn't sound right.
If you were a deodorant scent, what would you be?: Natural Scent.
Your film biopic's title would be: E-pal
One word that best describes you: Magnificent.
What can you say about PGMA?: She has a mole on her face.
How about Josepha Estrada?:His stomach is really big.
How about Angel Locsin?:Her face looks too small.
Your alter ego's name is: Kokey
Dedication: World Peace.
Any Last Words?: Rrrawwrr.
We're Just Friends...ter
Yahoo Me, Yahoo You
Allan Habon
Riley Palanca
Aio Arzadon
Cess Carlos
Friday, November 07, 2008
Why we hate, and why we try to deny our hatred
Everyone's talking about their first day. First day seeing bitchy professors. First day talking to the girl or guy or gay guy at your right. First day realizing that the sem could be a blast, or a bore, or another punitive imposition of a stagnant education system.
My first day is too fuzzy. It's so blurry that it feels unlike any of the first days I had ever since I was in Nursery.
There was no feeling of excitement. Nothing to look forward to. I couldn't even get nervous or feel jittery. Because I didn't care. I was too preoccupied with things.
I want to ask myself what I am getting myself into. This isn't how I kick off the sem. Ever since I got into UP, I always spend my first days sitting on worn out chairs for hours, listening to background conversations, staring at the door while betting on another prof no-show. But today I didn't even bother going to my classes.
Because I slept at five in the morning and woke up at 10, near noon. I missed my major subject, and Ralph told me the professor had us arranged alphabetically. And my seat was vacant, he told me. I was one of the two audacious BA students who did not show up at the first day of BA 181. But I feel like I don't care. What the hell is wrong with me.
I did not attend a single class. And I did not even attempt to check if my profs were eager enough to display their intellectual brouhahas at the first day.
I lined up at PNB to get things done. I stood at the line for three hours, listening to Jason Mraz go emo over my earphones, reading Third Bagro's thoughts on UP forum, staring at the UP law dude in front of me who puffed Marlboro every minute without any blink or fudging. I didn't even shake my knees while thinking of the classes I have missed. What is wrong with me.
Let me tell you how I spent my first day.
I stayed in School of Stat for hours. Only leaving to buy Globe load, or eat at SC, or get some breath of fresh air because the faculty room atmosphere nearly killed me. No, the waiting suffocated me, the injustice irked me, the system almost made me cry. Again. Or for the last time. I pray to God, never again please.
I waited for my professor to come. To grab that freaking knob and make herself appear before me. I wanted to ask her what will become of my grade now, now that I discovered, after she had posted it on the CRS already, that she recorded my 96.15% grade in an exam as 70.513%.
I texted her two hours ago, while I was scouring through Toy Kingdom's shelves, sucking in all the fun and nostalgia I could get from the toys I was never able to buy as a child. I texted her while I made myself happy, after a day plunged into what-could-bes and perspective morphism. She told me I should have known better and inquired before, that I should have known better and checked her Gmail group which I was not a part of. She told me I should have been reminded. But I wasn't. And I feel really sorry, and really pathetic, thinking that I have my efforts flushed down.
It feels like rejection. It's like a work of art spat on, burned down, unrecognized. A sweet, fought-for piece of trash. It feels like me rebuilding things, questioning things, dreaming of things I could never have. Because the system says so.
God knows I want this semester to be so beautiful that it can make me cry with its nearly perfect beauty. If beauty means me loving what the system tries to feed me. If beauty means me laughing at the end of the day, because I learned what I wanted to learn.
God knows I really want that to happen. God knows I don't want this pre-sem inconvenience to put a stain on my magnificent academic master plan. God knows I want to overcome thoughts that push me down.
I will make this semester beautiful. But the circumstance seems to mock me, ridicule me, discourage me. And all I could do is to call on friends and convince them that Java Chip Frapuccino can make me really happy.
I want to see what's good in this deep shit.
I want to do that. I want to channel Rhonda Byrne's 'The Secret'.
Screw CS standing, screw erratic grade recording, screw motivational incapacity, screw 'starting-it-with-the-wrong-foot'.
I don't know what kind of irrationality will back this kind of persistence. But I swear to God that if another messed up universal handwork messes with my mindset again, I will bitch-slap that thing until it disappears from memory.
Meaning, *happy thoughts*, *happy thoughts*.
Things will be perfectly fine.
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