is that noise coming from inside my head?

Today is a good day to die

Alternative title: Not really ready to make happy

Earlier this afternoon: Went to school today and found out I had skipped three major subjects to study for a Theology exam that, as I found out in that prof-less classroom later, didn't take place.

Now: I have wiped out whatever doubs and reservations I have as to the existence of karma.
---

It was a humid afternoon. The kind of afternoon that gets your ill-fitting uniform sticking like velcro to your back. The kind that keeps sweat forming on your forehead even after you've wiped it time and again, with your already soaked hanky. The kind that leaves you thinking that, in this sea of immaculate white skirts, khaki pants, and sky blue polos; in this sea of smiles, laughter, high-fives and cheerful banter; in this sea where everyone is always having a good time with somebody; in this sea bustling with co-curricular and extra-curricular activity where everyone is expected to foster camaraderie and build goodwill and better friendships, you--you with your emaciated 3-year old flats, ill-fitting 3 year-old uniform, sweaty forehead, tired eyes, and downturned lips--you are all alone.

And so, as I walked alone outside the school gate--the same way I always did the past 3 years, I thought about it. Thought about a ledge on the 7th floor. Thought about falling head-first onto the pavement and seeing people from classroom windows upside-down. Thought about the last few things I might think about as gravity takes its course with heavy objects hurled in open air.

But then I thought of pain. The pain of botched suicide attempts. The pain of fragmented bones, impacted skulls, and blood oozing from flesh ripped open. And so I thought of other things instead.

---

And contrary to what the title suggests, and what you may think, I am actually a very happy person. I have friends. I have a loving-but-not-very-demonstrative-of-affection family. I live a comfortable middle-class existence. So I guess my little sad episode was just a culmination of the past few days--weeks, years-- spent feeling extremely alone, isolated, and out of place in the midst of very happy people. This feeling of never belonging--with my family, my relatives, classmates--even in my own body--overwhelms me sometimes. And it makes me sigh...and occasionally blog about it.

P.S.

I hope I didn't live up to anyone's expectations that I am dark and brooding. I really don't mean to be. I really don't. Like hell I'd want to be labeled emo. But I'm just not the Carebears/rainbows-and-butterflies type. And even if they say it takes more muscles to frown than to smile, I still feel weird and oddly disgusted when I force a smile. Which leads me to my conclusion that no one can be happy all the time. And if a person always has a smile plastered on her face, she's either deluding herself into thinking her life's going to be so much better, or is teetering on the verge of insanity. See, it just isn't possible.

posted by Adobobo @ 10:21:00 PM Comments: 10

Ay uy bisa'g unsaon wala man gyud ko'y masuwat.

posted by Adobobo @ 11:24:00 PM Comments: 9

Give me a new mode of experience, or get out of my face

I'm proud to tell you all that, while I was away, I was making something out of my life.

June 15, 9:00 PM. I attended the informal orientation for Rock Ed volunteers at the Transcend Bar of Ponce Suites. Gang Badoy (one-half of the hosts of Rock Ed Radio, the other one being the much-worshipped Lourd de Veyra) was there, and so was Tado. Pepe Diokno (of Inquirer's Super!) and filmmaker Kidlat de Guia were also in attendance, although the only ones who talked during the orientation were Gang and Tado.

On the other side, the volunteers were made up of me, Ate Ayyi (Rock Ed's Coordinator for Mindanao), a brother and sister pair from USP whose names escape me, this other mountain-climbing dude whose name, again, escapes me, and a group of black-shirted punks. There were others, too, but they came much later so their names also went inside my brain's trash bin. One of them was this lawyer-slash-musician who reminds me of Emily the Strange. All in all, there were only about a dozen of us, which surprised me, considering that I sent messages of invitation to almost all the names in my phone's inbox. Sigh. But Gang was appreciative enough of the crowd that came, however small we were. She thinks it's much better to start with a lean-and-mean core group of volunteers that can deliver, as opposed to a whole battalion that can't commit.

..

...

*clears throat*

...

I'm not really one to elaborate. And I really don't feel like making an impassioned piece on how Gang's words moved me to action. All I want to tell you all is this: I can do something. We all can. We don't need to do anything grand. For starters, we can just work with what we have. That's how RockEd started. Simple.

Right. Now let me get to the part where I ask for your help.

Please help.

posted by Adobobo @ 1:15:00 AM Comments: 7