A Depressing Decision

Right now, I want to stop school. Political science is just not my thing. Sure I'm interested in hearing about European politics, the obsolescence of capitalism, the Indonesian socio-political culture, and how half-baked taxes are the worst things you can do to a country—sure I'm interested. I'm interested in a lazy, heavy-lidded way, like how cats regard a crawling salagubang or how drunk people regard their vomit on the car floor. I'm interested, but right now I am not willing to spend another goddamned year and a half studying political bullshit as if I'll remember it after graduation. Because I won't.

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Involuntary Servitude

Stories of overseas Filipino workers being abused and exploited by foreigners all over the world are common. Women OFW's are particularly more vulnerable than their male counterparts—not to say that they are weaker, but they are less physically agressive and some countries are still backward in their view regarding women as inferior to men and thus, abuse and exploitation comes easier due to social tolerance. 

This boring Sunday morning, I Googled 'filipina' and a most interesting and cringe-worthy article from The International Herald Tribune turned up in the search. It's about a Filipina OFW who went to San Francisco in 2005 to work as a nanny for a vice consul in the Philippine Consulate General of the Philippines. When she arrived, the vice consul told her that she will be working for his in-laws in New Jersey. They took her passport and was forbidden to leave the house without any household members. She spent the next two years being paid only a small  fraction of the salary indicated in her contract until New Jersey labor officials came to investigate her case.

 
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Hoarder

I'm a hoarder. I like, no, love hoarding things as if the holocaust will descend on me tomorrow. This habit might be a useful thing if the things I hoard can be used to help me survive in a holocaust, but no. Can 200 odd books, a closet full of clothes, art supplies, make-up and tons of paper shield me from radioactive fallout and the decline of civilization? A rugby boy would have a better chance in hell.

 
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The Second Hand Unwinds

play for the mood.

We were in fourth grade. I was still tomboyish, but the transition to being a full-fledged female was in the works. He was a kid with a streak of blond in his black hair and a streak of a freak on him. The first time I ever saw him, he was trying to walk through a wall to get to the classroom. I thought that was crazy, because the door was a few inches to his right.  I didn't pay heed to him after that. After all, there's nothing special about a transferee from Japan who, when asked what his three wishes were, said that Mars ought to be clean.

Well, that time, I didn't know what would happen in the next six years involving this boy. 

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My Boobs Can Kill Me Someday

I have 32As. In a time when big boobs are all the rage, I'm happy with the bit that I got. I wouldn't really want those big bouncy things getting sore all the time on me because I'm a stickler for comfort. Also, I can wear any top without looking like a ho' and without being looked at like I'm a ho'. I know someone who has huge tits and a crew neck shirt shows her cleavage. That's difficult.

Sometimes though, it sucks to have small jiggies when I'm feeling sexy and I want to show them off. Underwire bras really don't make much of a difference with 32As, you know. Besides, underwires are hella uncomfortable, what with the wire cutting in your skin if adjusted the wrong way, or if you're doing heavy physical activity like running. It gets frustrating, especially when the latest fashions require a girl to have at least a moderately generous bossom. Which I don't have.

 
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The Headers

A small prick in my ego can spur me to do things I've given up on, like say, photo editing. If people won't do things I ask of them, it's no skin off my ass to do these things myself. Waiting around has never been my strongest point. I don't think it will be anytime soon.

So now ladies and gentlemen, I unveil some blog header images I've been working on after a crash course in photo editing using GIMPshop and a rickety mouse. Crash course, as in last night crash course.

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Egg Soup In Ten Minutes!

It's raining mongeese and cobras and you have no one to cuddle with. You rummage around in the fridge but there's really nothing appropriate for a cold, rainy day. What to do? Well, cook soup! Me, I love soup very much. It doesn't make you too fat and it's a nice way to fill up a cold belly. Also, it's easy to make. You don't need to be a cooking genius to whip up edible soup since you can't burn water, unless you're really, really hopeless.

Egg soup would be perfect. Here's how!

 
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Hole In The Earth

What a nice bath, isn't it, in the middle of  the  rain- and oil-slicked road,  being showered by muddy water from the muddy tires of passing cars and trucks.  A nice, small  hole filled with fresh, polluted rainwater and you're ready to go.  Dirt. Bacteria. Sanitation, sanity. These are  elitist occupations.

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Ang Babaeng Easy-to-Get

play  for the mood.

"Ang mga babaeng easy to get," my mom said as I applied stinging pimple ointment on my face last night, "madaling iwanan ng lalake pag pinagsawaan na." That statement annoyed me hugely, but I didn't argue with her. She has a taste for post hoc, circular, and redundant arguments which last for more than an hour that I've long given up with trying to talk sense to her. Really, I wanted to tell her that I'm a babaeng easy-to-get. I fell in love with my first boyfriend in less than a month, and with Marco in less than three weeks. As for being left just like that and just as fast? I left the first boyfriend after almost two years. Flings, no more than two months.

There you go mom. You're wrong.

 
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Bastardization: When Influential Meant Popular

The results of the search for the Top Ten Emerging 'Influential' Blogs for 2007 is nothing short of depressing. When I first heard about it, I was given the impression that it wasn't just a popularity contest—the list would contain model blogs that actually affect people's opinion regarding a significant topic other than their personal lives. More importantly, if they are truly influential, they would be able to maintain it after the break-through post by writing similar, informative and powerful articles and not solely by shameless blogwhoring. The key word is consistency in content and not only  in marketing.

 
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