Stupidity

Some people think it’s just an ideal. Ironic, I know. Others turn to psychology for answers, but always forget to look at themselves. And then there are those who know fully well they’re stupid, and still continue to act like… well, stupid people.

Encarta defines stupidity as “lack of intelligence; rashness or thoughtlessness.” To all ye people who still wonder (if it isn’t obvious enough) where I get those synonyms and mot juste thingies for my papers and stuff, the culprit's Encarta, clear? If you answered "unclear," get a copy of that Encarta ’04 installation disc, forcibly break it in half, and swallow each piece.

Going back, I prefer to see stupidity as some sort of disease… like an STD, which does not stand for Stupid Teacher Disease. Imagine all the tiny creepazoids living together as one single gooey greenish mass, bouncing and floating and waiting for that glorious, death-sentence moment that is a chance encounter with a living homo sapiens. Then, when that encounter does come to pass, the gooey mass jumps at the chance to permeate the bloodstream. Before you know it, that big greenish mass has broken into sperm cell-like creatures all swimming towards the brain.

Now think of a world where stupidity does not exist. Impossible, right? As of August 30, 2008, these are some of the things that I find downright stupid:

1. Mall security checks

If I were a terrorist, all I’d have to do is simply put the bomb inside my…um, holiest spot, God forbid. Because all those guards are not even doing their damn jobs! How is merely opening the trunk a security check?!

2. Teenage Smoking

Hey you, smoking teenager! Let's just pour gasoline all over your face. That way, you’d burn faster. We don't need anymore help with air pollution. We don't need you to taint the image of any of your affiliations – school, family, whatever. And seriously, you don't look cool. At all.

Two savage truths. Awareness is key to eliminating stupidity. It’s like raising antibodies in a factory – you need to be prepared for what’s to come. You need to sing the way Scar did in The Lion King!

But maybe stupidity is universal.

Golden Pen Dialogues

Julie (J): Gina pa ko di gahulat mo. 6:30 pa.

Eli (E): Te kaluoy gali, wala may gasapak simo.

J: Damu guro ya gatulok sakon!

Hmmm, what were those people thinking?

* * * * *

E: (annoying Demi during Student Council get-together-whatever)

Demi (DE): Eli, kabaho simo!!!

E: Gleng, pwede favor, simhuti ko bi…?

God, Eli, manners please… and tact.

* * * * *

E: Hmph! Tungod sa manghod mu ga-perfume na ko adlaw-adlaw, simhuti bala!

Donna (DO): Bah! Maski gaperfume ka baho ka naman nga daan! Aaaah, kaya pala yung sasakyan mo nakalilingin, dahil sa amoy!!!

Evil… just plain evil… but funny.

* * * * *

Let’s not forget my debates with Eli, where I was able to produce countless short-lived, now-forgotten punch lines. Ma’am Sybil, if you would kindly remember…

Reminiscence

The Golden Pen’s now over – my second and last.

I’m just so proud of the children; most of them did surpass my expectations.

Overall, we’re third place.

But taking aside the fact that Ripples and AC are the regular top-twoers, it’s one heck of a conclusion that we are the champion of the… uhm… normal (?) ones.

No, Dragon/s and AC-er/s, if you ever come across this thingy, I don’t intend anything evil, sarcastic, or defaming.

I don’t think I did my best though, what with news being, as Judy would have it, “a bit disconnected,” and sports, copy, and cartoon being disasters. I actually had a really nice idea for the feature, but I guess there is always time for everything.

I’m really, really, superly thankful: first, for the editorial gold; second, for the golden pen; third, for the performances.

Sleepless in Iloilo

I do think I should have celebrated last night.

Well, yes, perhaps the celebration should have been done the night before. After all, I did make history that night.

Thursday, August 14, 2008 – I slept at around twelve o’clock midnight. That’s 12 A.M., depending on a clock’s level of stupidity. Come to think of it, I don’t even know exactly what time I slept. It wasn’t 12 yet according to the masters bedroom’s clock, yet the second floor stairwell clock said it was a few minutes past midnight; the living room clock registered something like 12:05, while my room’s bore 12:10.

Regardless of the exact time (whoever made the exact time, anyway?), my sleeping that late should have been cause for a household ruckus.

That was the latest I've slept so far in my student life on a school day night. Yehey! Okay, all ye late sleepers/lots-of-work people/sleepless students, you may think this is all so hyperbolic. Go ahead, no one's stopping you from thinking that way - not even moi, though this is my blog, be reminded. Sleeping late will never be a mark of genius!

Did I hurt your feelings there?

Why did I sleep that late anyway?

First, we had this CAT vigil for the wake of a certain someone. It was fun. We did laugh more than a couple of times during our turns in "guarding the dead." It's funny but it's also tactless. I can't imagine what it must have looked like, us laughing beside a coffin housing a neatly dressed corpse.

The wake was also one heck of a fiesta for us officers. We arrived at around 5:45 (everyday since last Friday) after all 22 of us were crammed inside the stupid, worthless, rundown, nausea-inducing school van. Then, we were offered crackers (Hansel), candy (White Rabbit and Dynamite), bread and pastry (JD and Tinapayan goodies), Filipino favorites (alupi), juice (Zesto), soda (bottled ones), and peanuts. While two among our number were probably trying to repress their laughter beside the dead and flowers, we feasted and ate our hearts out at the "flower garden."

Second, I spent two nights wide awake in front of the computer, trying to compose a "wonderful" essay for my Ateneo application as an ACET requirement. I wrote about my guest-speaker experience during last year's B'n'G Week and I do hope I can publish it here pretty soon.

How did I fare in school? I slept during Thursday's Huagi and Physics class.

Espesyal na Pagtatrato... whatever.

I was late for school yesterday morning.

I had to print out my A.P. few minutes before school because the stupid printer was malfunctioning, and also the equally stupid, virus-infested computer. So what I did was, I tried to estimate the exact time at which I should arrive in school, so that I’d be just in time for second period’s Scoobydoozation and wouldn’t have to laze around outside the room while dear Roger's having his class.

Guess what? My first ever tardiness for the year made the faculty headlines! To my teachers, some pointers:

1. I do not seek special treatment from any of you.

2. You make my being late sound like a mortal sin.

3. I have the right to be late, as does any senior student.

4. By trying to ban me from being late, you were already giving me special treatment.

5. I was late for a legal reason, and someone wouldn’t have been too happy if I wasn’t.

Duh.

UPCAT

I was told this morning that over 62,000 senior students all over the country applied this year for a chance to hurdle the ever-dreaded-yet-rewarding University of the Philippines College Admission Test. My fingers are crossed, but my first bloetry (blog poetry) waits not Apollo's leave.

Utter the five sacred letters and
Pierce many a mortal heart and soul,
Crushed dreams of golden nights
And the lifeless eyes that follow
The hieroglyphs of daylight.

Upon first sight of the answer sheets
Plagued with boils of bamboo green,
Curses muttered under fearful breaths
And many a sigh cloak living corpses,
Their tomorrows uncertain as ever.

Under the scorching roofs, doves of
Peace lose their olive branches;
Cramped within the stony walls,
Ardent hopes wither as the lovely
Trees of autumn shed their leaves.

Unicorns never before did matter, yet
Pieces and fragments of broken wisdom
Cast shadows throughout the journey:
Another circle blackened, as another is
Thrown to the fiery wasteland of wrongs.

Utopians might say this all matters not,
Pallid-faced and stone-hearted ones also,
Clowns of extravagant festivals too, but
All words matter not, except one only:
The joyful silent cry of an "Accepted."

Unto the dying afternoon they trudged,
Places then never again were the same,
Clueless faces emerge to the setting sun
And tiny wisps of the ever-smoky future
Tell nothing but vague memories.

Discrimination

Today, I'm gonna talk about a very random subject. It's something that really matters in today's sacrilegious generation and it's also one that really interests me.

Now if you've come here to read about the usual thingies, then it's better for you to just leave. But heck, I don't even know if what I'm about to write are the usual thingies.

So, discrimination.

First of all, whoever coined this term? Because I don't cracking like it! Just kidding; whoever you are/were, just leave a comment and I'll build you a monument. And do specify your preferred location for the monument that's never gonna rise. I love the word; don't you just love it?! I mean, just observe the way it twirls in your tongue and how the a in -mination gets the most screen time. See?! There's already discrimination in the word itself, because whenever every Earthling says this word, a is the one being stressed! How come it's not -tion? Or dis-, or -cri-, or even more pathetically, -min-, because it always gets to follow Mr. Stressed?! Elementary science lab class: Therefore, I conclude that discrimination discriminates itself. And also, that the stresses of the Engliiiiish language are the main cause of verbal prejudice.

Now let me share with you the two newest additions to the ever-growing list of... discriminaaaaations: First, we have ID. That's for intellectual discriminaaaaation. Guavish people already know about this. And only Guavish people know about this – well, if you exclude some of my family. So, by faulty reasoning, we can therefore come up with the grandest conclusion that ID has its roots in the realm of Guavish people, a.k.a. the dumpsite that is ICCHS’s senior class, Guava section, room (insert confusing room number here).

Now what is ID all about? If, in a class of thirty-eight students, you get to be singled out most of the time as being the brightest and smartest among the XXXVIII, or worse, among the entire graduating batch, then that’s ID. If you’re always expected to answer every single damned question coming from the speaker-up-front’s mouth, or if you’re always expected to act as a 1st Honors would supposedly act (which is stereotyping), then that’s ID. Get itzzz?!

The second one, which I’ve just… discovered this morning, is Hiligaynon meat discriminaaaaation or HMD. This one is a lesser felony compared to the previous one by probably ten decimal places. That’s because it’s already buried deep down the bulbous veins of Ilonggo culture. For dummies out there (this is also a form of ID), Hiligaynon is what we, the people who are proud to be the inhabitants of Iloilo, commonly speak. And pleeeaaase, if you don’t happen to be Ilonggo, don’t ev-verrr attempt to stereotype Ilonggos or Bisayans, like in those wretched movies, as idiots or people who speak in funny accents. Let’s see you try speaking in Hiligaynon then!!! Maybe you’d sound even worse than a snoring swine!!!

Now, what is chicken meat in Hiligaynon? Manok. Pork? Baboy. Cow, Sheep, Goat, and who-knows-what-else? Karne. Get the general idea?! If you don’t, I suggest you try putting it this way: Grab a pillow and hit your head with it, and see if your head goes itchy-red.

Here’s a disclaimer, or whatever you call it: I’m not actually sure if the information in the preceding paragraph are actually correct and accurate down to the last drop of ink. So if you have any knowledge about those, feel free to tell me about them.

Well now, I do hope you enjoyed your stay!