Twenty One and Five
It’s a wonder how one can change or acquire different values, attitudes and thoughts in
twenty one days – it’s like a shorter, pressured, flop version of
Big Brother and/or
Survivor. It’s only been three weeks and I’m already writing about my January. Do not look at this as one of my nutshells, though; I will still allot a separate post and time for that (can’t spoil the first nutshell, can I?).
It’s only been three weeks and I’m already half-transitioning into this overly matured version of myself, complete with the responsibility instincts and half-optimistic, half-pessimistic premonitions I really shouldn’t have. My brain is actually crying right now, without the tears, of course (that’d cause a lot of trouble in my whole system). I’m so
tired. Even this blogging is a forceful conscience knock from whatever’s inside me. I can’t think properly. My awful clumsiness has gotten into a full-on
monstrous one. Whatever I’m holding either falls to the floor or breaks into pieces. Sometimes I even think that maybe I’m a superhuman or something with abnormal super strength that I can ruin something just by touching, but
shoot, that’s never the case.
I feel hopeless to the point that even reading John Green can’t elevate this wretchedness. I’m currently reading
Zombicorns (which is taking me forever for reasons nobody can fathom), and I should, like,
laugh or something because the whole idea of being zombie-d by eating a particular breed of corn is so odd that it’s hilariously pathetic already. But,
tada, I can’t seem to comprehend zombie jokes. What a great way to start my year. Yay…
neh.
I have a lot of things to say but I’m not in my Awesome Uproarious Blogger state right now… so what to do when grammar and writing skills seem to have ran away from you? Use bullets/numberings (from
This is Stupid 101 Manual).
One: I’m so stressed. I’ve always believed that I’m this light, free spirited person who can keep the light, free spirited self when under pressure… NOT. We’re doing this crazy difficult and impossible morning show in school, and I would’ve been excited about it had I know enough about production. Problem is, I HAVEN’T LEARNED ANYTHING TECHNICAL YET – and that’s saying something. I do advanced reading most of the time, but screw theories and terms: I need hands on exercises, experience, actual observations and proper applications in my computer. I don’t know what to do, and I’m so keen on pleasing our professor because her elusive grading system is putting my scholarship grant in danger.
Two: I want to fully trust (not thrust), but it seems to be always broken. This is the same problem I stated once in
Spearing Head: a tainted confidence that everyone can properly deliver on time. I’m not sure if it’s just me and my annoying, demanding, anxious habits, or if they really don’t give a damn. I don’t know if it’s my putting pressure in everything I do, or they just don’t care if we suck so badly we’re siphoning underground. Should I change my ways? Should I adjust to their easy breezy attitudes towards school works? Should I not care and just do my own thing? Will it be fair to all of us? Don’t they want good grades? If you’d ask me, I don’t want good grades, I want
excellent grades. I’m not the kind of person who settles for something mediocre and okay’s and barely-there’s; I want to produce something that’d give me high, if not the best, marks. Hello, I’m maintaining grades here. I CAN’T UNDERSTAND. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s them. Whoever’s to blame, I just freakin’ hope that we won’t flunk this.
Three: I know but can’t teach. This is the same as, “I know a lot of stories but can’t story-tell.” It’s kind of frustrating in a weird way. Once in our Statistics class, someone asked for help in a frequency distribution topic. I know the equations and how to evaluate, but couldn’t show him. I just kept on pointing and talking and explaining, and I saw it in his face that I wasn’t making sense. Even
I didn’t understand what I was saying. I just made his Statistics life harder. In the end I resorted to checking his answers every time he arrived at one and compared it to mine. I’d point what’s wrong and what’s right, but I never really helped him. It’s sad; I can never be a playgroup teacher. I gave him spoiled fish and never taught him how to catch fresh ones.
Four: I’m missing a lot on movies. I originally planned on seeing
Life of Pi and
Les Miserables this January, but those plans were left unexecuted. I’m so lame and boring. My excuse is either “I’m so busy I don’t even have time to shave and/or pick my nose” or “I’m so broke I’m leaking – look, the whole place is fucking flooded”. But I swear I’m gonna see
Warm Bodies this February. It will kill me if I didn’t.
Five: Pessimism is eating me. Since working on this project, I’ve been expecting a lot of bad things. I don’t have confidence, and the word “trust” is missing its first letter in my dictionary. And “luck” is becoming swear words (both the S and the F) in my everyday life. Thank God for friends (and
The Vampire Diaries) who somehow makes me forget my non-mediocre, hardcore shit. Oh, I want a hug from Lord Voldemort.
What I need: a legit video editor, a big gallon of ice cream, a working team,
Speak, a camcorder,
We Need to Talk about Kevin, a visit to Fullybooked and a whole no-school week. Ah, suck it, we can’t have everything (what a fucking gloomy Gus I am!).
← older / top / newer →
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Twenty One and Five
It’s a wonder how one can change or acquire different values, attitudes and thoughts in
twenty one days – it’s like a shorter, pressured, flop version of
Big Brother and/or
Survivor. It’s only been three weeks and I’m already writing about my January. Do not look at this as one of my nutshells, though; I will still allot a separate post and time for that (can’t spoil the first nutshell, can I?).
It’s only been three weeks and I’m already half-transitioning into this overly matured version of myself, complete with the responsibility instincts and half-optimistic, half-pessimistic premonitions I really shouldn’t have. My brain is actually crying right now, without the tears, of course (that’d cause a lot of trouble in my whole system). I’m so
tired. Even this blogging is a forceful conscience knock from whatever’s inside me. I can’t think properly. My awful clumsiness has gotten into a full-on
monstrous one. Whatever I’m holding either falls to the floor or breaks into pieces. Sometimes I even think that maybe I’m a superhuman or something with abnormal super strength that I can ruin something just by touching, but
shoot, that’s never the case.
I feel hopeless to the point that even reading John Green can’t elevate this wretchedness. I’m currently reading
Zombicorns (which is taking me forever for reasons nobody can fathom), and I should, like,
laugh or something because the whole idea of being zombie-d by eating a particular breed of corn is so odd that it’s hilariously pathetic already. But,
tada, I can’t seem to comprehend zombie jokes. What a great way to start my year. Yay…
neh.
I have a lot of things to say but I’m not in my Awesome Uproarious Blogger state right now… so what to do when grammar and writing skills seem to have ran away from you? Use bullets/numberings (from
This is Stupid 101 Manual).
One: I’m so stressed. I’ve always believed that I’m this light, free spirited person who can keep the light, free spirited self when under pressure… NOT. We’re doing this crazy difficult and impossible morning show in school, and I would’ve been excited about it had I know enough about production. Problem is, I HAVEN’T LEARNED ANYTHING TECHNICAL YET – and that’s saying something. I do advanced reading most of the time, but screw theories and terms: I need hands on exercises, experience, actual observations and proper applications in my computer. I don’t know what to do, and I’m so keen on pleasing our professor because her elusive grading system is putting my scholarship grant in danger.
Two: I want to fully trust (not thrust), but it seems to be always broken. This is the same problem I stated once in
Spearing Head: a tainted confidence that everyone can properly deliver on time. I’m not sure if it’s just me and my annoying, demanding, anxious habits, or if they really don’t give a damn. I don’t know if it’s my putting pressure in everything I do, or they just don’t care if we suck so badly we’re siphoning underground. Should I change my ways? Should I adjust to their easy breezy attitudes towards school works? Should I not care and just do my own thing? Will it be fair to all of us? Don’t they want good grades? If you’d ask me, I don’t want good grades, I want
excellent grades. I’m not the kind of person who settles for something mediocre and okay’s and barely-there’s; I want to produce something that’d give me high, if not the best, marks. Hello, I’m maintaining grades here. I CAN’T UNDERSTAND. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s them. Whoever’s to blame, I just freakin’ hope that we won’t flunk this.
Three: I know but can’t teach. This is the same as, “I know a lot of stories but can’t story-tell.” It’s kind of frustrating in a weird way. Once in our Statistics class, someone asked for help in a frequency distribution topic. I know the equations and how to evaluate, but couldn’t show him. I just kept on pointing and talking and explaining, and I saw it in his face that I wasn’t making sense. Even
I didn’t understand what I was saying. I just made his Statistics life harder. In the end I resorted to checking his answers every time he arrived at one and compared it to mine. I’d point what’s wrong and what’s right, but I never really helped him. It’s sad; I can never be a playgroup teacher. I gave him spoiled fish and never taught him how to catch fresh ones.
Four: I’m missing a lot on movies. I originally planned on seeing
Life of Pi and
Les Miserables this January, but those plans were left unexecuted. I’m so lame and boring. My excuse is either “I’m so busy I don’t even have time to shave and/or pick my nose” or “I’m so broke I’m leaking – look, the whole place is fucking flooded”. But I swear I’m gonna see
Warm Bodies this February. It will kill me if I didn’t.
Five: Pessimism is eating me. Since working on this project, I’ve been expecting a lot of bad things. I don’t have confidence, and the word “trust” is missing its first letter in my dictionary. And “luck” is becoming swear words (both the S and the F) in my everyday life. Thank God for friends (and
The Vampire Diaries) who somehow makes me forget my non-mediocre, hardcore shit. Oh, I want a hug from Lord Voldemort.
What I need: a legit video editor, a big gallon of ice cream, a working team,
Speak, a camcorder,
We Need to Talk about Kevin, a visit to Fullybooked and a whole no-school week. Ah, suck it, we can’t have everything (what a fucking gloomy Gus I am!).
← older / top / newer →
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Profile
Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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