What A Strange World

6 months ago, my father died.

4 months ago, I started college.

Today, another day in my strange existence.

As months go by I still remain dazed and confused about what just happened in my life. After my birthday, I expected everything to turn out alright. I expected to walk up on stage on graduation day with a diploma in my hand and being happy that I was finally out of high school on my way to my college dreams where I expected an enjoyable life of self discovery and hakuna matata days. I thought this year was going to be the year I got to experience what it would be like to be an actual teenager. Not the kind that partied hard and came home drunk but the kind that was able to wander in places without limitation and know that there was still someone to go back to in case of failure. Somebody to be there for me through out all tough times and still love me.  I thought there would be somebody. But I lost that somebody. And, not so long ago, I lost somebody else, too.

I am what you call an orphan. A person without any parent. A person who has lost both parents. A person who lives on life without parent by their side. A person who is Frank Sinatra, left do it my way.  I find it hard to believe that I am what I am at this very point in my life. That word “orphan” is one of the loneliest words I could think of. I would have never comprehended the thought of being a person with no parents at such a age. I do not know if I was too young or just old enough to be left on this earth by my parents. But, I am confident in saying that I would never trade my parents for any another pair. Even if I only spent a number of years with them, I am grateful to God that they were a part of my life and molded me to become the human being that I am today. Amazingly, I have survived this life 6 months without them both. I find it sad that I still have to later accept that there will be so much things that they will never know about the future me. Life goes on, but the pain remains the same. It will stick to my sentiments for as long as I live. Somewhere in my mind, there will always lie this dark box wrapped in chains constantly shaking with miserable memories. When I try to forget the past, I just remember it more. There are certain events in one’s life that may never be forgotten.

Becoming seventeen was one of my biggest mistakes. The day right after my birthday, my father was murdered in a curb right in front of Mother Mary. She saw it all. I do not enjoy talking about how my dad died and how it happened right after my birthday but telling the story over and over again, I start realizing the fascinating ironies of my life. A year gained for me, a life lost for my father. And then the murder of my father right in front of Mother Mary. I do not know what it is. Isn’t it a strange life that I live? I feel as if I am in some very odd novel that compiled unfortunate events and ironies to be experienced by a group of people– being my siblings and I.

I feel weird. I feel like I am part of some kind of book or some David Lynch movie.

Dumb Dumb Dumb

Yesterday, my aunt and uncle drove us to Stanford University to visit their only son, a graduating law student who was soon going to New York to be an intern (who would also get paid $3000 a week despite him being an intern)(because interns don’t usually get paid)(can he please help pay for my tuition fee??). My auntie had told me that my cousin had almost perfected the test that law students take to get accepted into universities for their masters. He was accepted into all those top schools except for Yale because hell, Yale only accepts probably 0.004% of the top brains in the universe. BUT COME ON, IT IS  STANFORD. I couldn’t even get into the top Philippines school. Apart from that almighty achievement of my cousin, he was part of an orchestra at the age of 10. Then at 13, he got interested in debating and became a national champion in debate competitions.

At the age of 17, I tell my sister I like scrambled egg with cheese and have a degree in procrastination and lazing my ass off. I find that my cousin’s achievements are a great big slap on my pathetic life.

Here was a conversation from my cousin with his parents. “Where is Dianne going?” my aunt asked him. I assumed they were talking about one of his friends.
“She is going to study at Columbia University. She wants to go to law school.” my cousin replied.
“It is just top four.” my auntie remarked. Uhhhhhhhh just top four??? I was screaming in my own head.
“Did she even do well in her SAT?” My uncle–who is kind of a jerk but a genius–asked with a look that read “hella unimpressed.”
“Well, I think she didn’t really take her tests seriously,” my cousin replied “but at least she’s happy at Columbia University.”

One side of me wanted to burst into a little crying number because I was probably the biggest idiot in my entire family. Then there was another side of me that told me there is such a thing as multiple intelligences and that the human race shouldn’t compare intelligence simply with standardized test results. Then there was another side of me that was laughing at my achievements compared to my cousin’s achievements.

I probably deserved all this torment because it striked me then what an indolent asshole I have been for the past years of my life. I never tried to aim for anything academically unless I was already at the brink of trouble. It came to my attention that I was a slack off loser.

It is true that intelligence shouldn’t be viewed in a simple test score but it is important that there should still be the element of trying. Look, I am the laziest slack off to mankind. I know this because my computer has generated enough heat for a sauna. I am glad that at least I have realized that I have wasted my education in high school because I didn’t bother trying. Now that I am on my way to college, a lot of my old habits have to be abolished from now on and from there, I create my new lifestyle.

I am probably never going to end up in Stanford like my cousin but at least it is never too late to change, right? I have a somewhat fresh new start going into college in a few months. I pray to God I don’t get distracted as much as I did in high school.

As of now, I’m chilling and enjoying my last days of being an indolent pig.

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Earth Day 2014

Earth day, the beautiful day when humanity gives back to mother earth by raising awarenes of helping mother earth by encouraging eco friendly ideas and recycling properly by not just throwing trash lazily into one trash can.
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This here is a mandala. People were given two stones each to help complete this piece of art. One stone represented what one would intend to do for mother earth and the other stone represented the action where in what one would do for mother earth. I told mother earth I would pull out more pepper weed (which I really had done the week before).

There was an earth party during the event and the DJ of this earthy party was telling us “Yo pick up your trash!” And he’d continue
on with his hip hop beats earth remixes.
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This happened the other day in San Francisco and it was one of the most interesting days of my life. Never before have I seen so many strange hippies in one area. My favorite hippie of the day is this guy.

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There was this other guy who seemed like a true earth enthusiast. My sister and I called him the Napoleon Dynamite Hippie. I took a photo of him not knowing it.
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And then eventually I asked to take a picture of him where he nkindly agreed.
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Just look at his fabulous half globe hat. There were also great bunch of incredible people I got to meet. These three folks right below. They managed a zine making booth where my sister and I participated in.
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Never in my life had I met such passionate people in my life. The green haired girl with a sparkly pink ribbon told me that she and her group of friends loved living life by loving and caring. She told me she’d often give free food to a lot of the homeless people. Not actually just free food but also free music and free art. She also hates money and the terrible consumer products that big companies create to keep on destroying the earth. I didn’t get to ask her for her facebook or anything which I deeply regret. I did leave my email which I really hope she contacts me. She was hella rad.

There was more free art in other corners of earth day. There was this two sided wall in the middle of it all where people were asked to paint what they loved most about mother earth.
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Here is what I painted.
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Pretty groovy, huh? Here are what people with more talent drew.
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Those were basically the high lights of this wonderful day. Now here are some other photos I took.
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Then there’s my legs chilling on the grass here.
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And then there’s this photo which I took by accident that managed to capture this really attractive man with his bicycle.
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When you first look at the picture, you might think that he’s seductively posing but he was actually just trying to eat his free organic bar which was being given away from the red truck.

In conclusion, earth day was great and you should all one day attend it here in San Francisco.

Adventure in US of A (to be told)

My long hiatus from blogging is to be explained in the next issue of my lame ass blog. Stay tuned for it but as of now, here is a bad camera quality phone picture of some rad socks I bought from San Francisco the other day.

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Don’t worry, I have a better quality pictures that aren’t taken with my terrible low pixel phone.

Not Intended For Business

Here , for the very first time do I present to you an actual essay which I’ve written for school work. This is my experience during the actual selling for the Economics project I mentioned in my previous post where I talked about the world’s biggest dick bag and my experience of being speechless (literally). You could read that lame adventure here

It was a fine summer morning, I believe. I was on my way to become a multi one-hundred peso tycoon in the span of one week. I believed in my product, my ability to entice kids to buy from me, and I believed I was actually going to make some profit. Boy, was I wrong.

The first day of selling was on a Tuesday. Technically, I was allowed to sell on Monday but I wasn’t in the mood to be screaming about the intrams with a tray filled with sushi. I thought selling would be much simpler if it were in school. I would just have to walk around holding my goods and wait for the customers to come around and buy from me because canteen food was too often a menu. When Tuesday did come, my expectations would just become a mere fantasy. Selling was not at all what you could call “pleasant”. The screaming of those hotdog sellers during football games seemed to be a bit startling and quite a nuisance but it was necessary to stand out from competition. I walked around with my cooler filled with sushi, awkwardly bopping up and down, asking kids “Do you want to buy sushi?” They would respond with a sullen “no” then walk away. Other times, they would just stare at me and give me a look as if I was about to harm them. All I wanted to do was sell sushi to them.  I did not understand, was I doing something wrong? It wasn’t until I had one little boy go up to me and asked me what I was selling. I told him I was selling sushi and immediately, his eyes glistened and he took an order. I finally had one customer for the day. I congratulated myself and felt so happy to have made one sale. Suddenly, a strange miraculous boost of my sales came up when kids from left to right asked to buy some sushi. It was not very long until I had been sold out for the day.

I felt happy and satisfied. My first day at selling was a success. Although it started out rough, I ended on a good note. The next day, however, ended in a less happy tune. I was armed with more sushi and more enthusiasm to sell to the inhabitants of my school. Alas, I came unprepared for one thing—the change. The same  little boy that was my first customer came up to me again to buy sushi. I was absolutely pleased that he came back but just when I was about to give him the sushi—there it was, the most dreaded thing any cash based seller would dread at the start of the day, it was a 500 peso bill. I thought I came prepared with everything, I thought I had it all under control but the change. Nope, I did not think I was going to receive such an amount for the day. My eyes twitched while I slowly reached out into my wallet to check if I had any change. I went through all my bills. Okay, I could get through this. I could get through this. As I searched my wallet, another customer popped up from one side and ordered some sushi. “Hold on, I’m just giving change here.” I told him. I kept counting the bills I had to perfect the art of giving change to the 500 peso bill payer. In the process of being able to give the perfect change, the other person who had ordered impatiently left and decided to buy elsewhere amongst the sea of other sellers in the hallway. I could not believe it. You could actually lose a costumer because of taking a more than a few seconds to give change to another costumer? I know market signals exist but I did not know they escalated that quickly.

In the advent of losing one customer, I felt pretty disappointed in myself. I then visited my seat in class to sulk in the death of an order. Fortunately, my best friend snapped me out of it and told me to sell to the teachers: a market that was barely touched by my fellow sellers. I followed her advice and was able to sell half of my stock by the end of recess. By lunch, nobody had wanted to buy so I ended up eating one of my orders and went back to my sulking state for the loss of that one customer that could have been. I get melodramatic over business related matters. It was at that point I figured I could never be a business person. I thought I was going to have the rest of my stock but by the end of the day, my classmates were nice enough to support my broken sushi dreams and purchase them all off.

I was not intended for business, though.

Speechless

Augusto and Maria have been together for nearly 3 months. They were in love. Really in love. They had sex twice and shared a mutual love for Mexican food more than their local food in Spain. One day, when Maria gets home, Peppito is kissing Brian, an American tourist. This leaves Maria speechless. 

But in my case, I am speechless and cannot actually talk because my vocal chords are conspiring against me. I have this project for Economics class where I have to sell foods that don’t fall under the category junk food, sweets, or pastries which is basically every single food in the world except for wholesome meals and soya milk. And when I say sell, I mean sell. Wear a trench coat and whisper to a potential pot smoker and be like “Psssst do you want some *bounce eyebrows twice*?” and then you offer him a snicker bar if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. Being the most non-interactive person there is in the entire face of this planet, I found it almost impossible to go about the corridors screaming out to my schoolmates if they wanted to buy some sushi which I very smartly displayed in an opaque cooler that no one ever saw my product till I actually bent down to tie my shoe lace. I sold for two days but the requirement was two fracking weeks.  Good thing my Economics teacher doesn’t really check up on us if we actually sell, he just checks out our reflection essay which we pass at the end of each week. Last week, I sold for two days.I changed my product to waffles because someone had better sushi than me. This week, I sold waffles for one day and ended up eating two of my stocks.

Apart from me being socially incapable, I also had the upper hand of not having a voice. I was Charlie Chaplin for day to say the least. So I asked asked one of my classmates to sell for me and she helped me sell like three waffles. You know what else I got from not being able to selling my waffles–well, let’s just say I got a rude insult from the world’s biggest dickhead.

Meet Sean.

seanHe’s a racist Chinese dickhead. He once told me I was really ugly and said something really racist about my brown skin. Something that went like “You’re so black that’s why there’s night time.” First of all, I’m brown skinned like a Frapuccino in Starbucks, not black like your heart. If you’re so racist against Filipinos, please get the hell out of my country and parkour back to China.

Now, today was the day I just lost all tolerance of his being. Having no voice to pain my day just wasn’t enough, was it? While I was trying to communicate with one of my fellow classmates, dick bag comes along.

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Well, dick bag was too ignorant to notice that  I had no voice so I attempt to tell him in a very choking manner “I just lost it.” And it was true, I just magically lost it one morning or was it because I belted out to Bohemian Rhapsody that other day.  I honestly had no clue. And this is what dick bag tells me.

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At that very moment, I was sure he was the world’s biggest dick bag. Yes, I am socially untalented but you’re an ignorant prick who needs an ass whooping for not only being rude but damn insensitive and ALSO FOR BEING DAMN RACIST. I would have gone haywire in front of his dickery but I had no voice which frustrated me like SO. Imagine being as angry as hell and not being able to even shout or express yourself or say anything. All of a sudden, I have a great respect for silent films. Portraying a character with sole visuals is much more complex than I thought. Respect to Charlie Chaplin.

Today was just one of those days. I was speechless and verbally assaulted.

My Slothy Stats

I was looking through my stats and most of the views I get from ARE ALWAYS FOR MY SLOTHS APPRECIATION POST. 

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Everybody loves sloths and that makes me really happy. Maybe there’s a secret sloths appreciation club out there that consists of hundreds of members and they’re out there checking out Google everyday looking for sloth related anythings. Well, whoever they are, I love sloths and tell me how to join the group. Here’s my email: alovethoselazybumsmorethanyoudo@gmail.com but actually you could also email me at thatsnotevenarealemail@gmail.com or ifyouthoughtthatwasarealemailhaha@gmail.com

Now here is a brilliant doodle of a sloth from me.

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Ugh. What a sloth.

Filial Sadness

For the ultimate sadness feel of my post, please play this song while reading this post (but seriously I was sad as heck writing this but found a nice sad song to match my sad post just so you could be sad with me) (this is just for a nice dramatic sad effect)

Just don’t mind that whole intro I did and press play okay.

 It’s really strange how I would rather share and broadcast to the whole world of strangers in the world wide web my problems in life but not even to my own biological siblings or best friends. I guess, I just haven’t found anyone to really trust around here yet.

It’s been three years since my mom passed away and as you may know, I have a step-mom. My dad married her just a year after my mom’s death and life has seemed somewhat bittersweet. Maybe a little more sour added into that bittersweet taste that stings life’s tongue. I don’t really know how to describe my situation except that my dad seems to have forgotten everything about the past and how my siblings and I were actually his children. It’s as if he’s living a completely different life. He used to give us more importance then but now, he prefers to favor his step kids a whole lot more than his own biological children. It’s almost as if he’s trying to let us know that he doesn’t really care about us anymore. And now, he apparently thinks of us as spoiled brats. I don’t know if this is the work of my step-mom probably brainwashing him. My siblings and I were brought up differently from her kids but she constantly remarks about our upbringing, sometimes even criticizing it, then she expects us to act like her biological children exactly the same way. It’s funny because she seemed so nice and accepting at the start but now that the months spent with her are growing to be more and more, she’s starting to seem like that evil step mom in Cinderella.

There is some sort of animosity she has towards my siblings and I but it’s a somewhat blurred animosity. It isn’t a conspicuous sort of hostility but there seems to be a shadow in her actions that I could see through. A somewhat dark shadow that has underlying meaning of harm– but I don’t have enough evidence to prove so of her intentions. And even if I did, my dad would take no consideration of my observations. In fact, I think he wouldn’t care at all. My dad has seemed to grow more and more indifferent to my siblings and I’s needs and he could care less if we screwed up or not. He pays really minimal attention to us now. I don’t even recall when the last time my dad and us had actual intimate moments as a family. I feel as if he’s just paying for our tuition fee and basic human needs because it’s his legal obligation to do so and we’re almost about to graduate and get jobs and pretty soon, leave his household.

Ever since he remarried, he’s been acting awfully rude to my siblings and I. His opinions on us are getting more cruel and his blatant show of favoritism on my step-siblings is something I could only look at and hope that time will run faster.

I barely feel like smiling now. I would have tried to make this post funnier but the overwhelming pain that I feel for the disconnection of father from daughter is smothering my capabilities of seeing any comedic possibilities in it. Internet people often find me very happy and preppy but behind a lot of these typed out words, there sometimes lies a rather lonely kiddo who longs to be heard by anyone around her but doesn’t so she goes to the net to seek out more caring people who do not exist in her real life.

(Didn’t) Make It

I’ve been destined to go there (I’m just making that up, I never expected to pass)(I’m just trying to get into character for my sadness)(I’m pathetic, I know). Alas, the I am the very last of the remaining leaf of the tree branch in my family’s generation and I didn’t make it. But that’s okay. Well, for the first few hours, admittedly, I was really sad about it but now, I’m just laughing at my whiny ass and being really happy for my best friend because she passed. I just bombarded her with messages on Facebook congratulating her. And it’s really annoying how it was her who was worried sick that she wouldn’t pass and SHE DID. My best friend  is such an over thinking brain. Every time she feels she’s about to fail on some test, she gets at least around 98 percent in the end anyway and I get around half of what she gets. Yes, you could call me pathetic again. My best friend is a genius and I am this big mess who can’t even pass my own mother tongue’s language class. I knew she was going to make it and I somehow knew I wasn’t going to make it. BUT I’M OKAY and I’m not going to suicide just because I didn’t make it to a university that only takes in geniuses. I may not be a genius but at least I’m willing to strive for a job I’m passionate about (now to the segment where I cheer up myself by giving myself a pep talk). Even if I didn’t make it to the most prestigious school in the whole of Philippines and it may seem like damn, gurl, you have got no future, I STILL DO and that’s working as a cashier in Mcdonalds where I get to have free chicken everyday during lunch time okay. That was a joke. I took four more entrance exams elsewhere and people in Mcdonalds are very good people for tolerating all the asshole (like myself in the previous sentences where I didn’t actually mean to be an asshole) in saying that it means no future to work in a fast food chain. There is always hope and success in each and every bumpy pathway and I shall know what I mean when I get my results back. Now here are the schools I’ve taken entrance exams for.

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The color of red. The bloody bloody red where Satan enjoys his afternoon naps. This is the home of the mad geniuses that live in this tropical country.

I didn’t make it to the University of the Philippines (oh) but I’ll just tell you the courses I took up which were BS Architecture and AB Film. One reason why I really, really wanted to pass was because of AB Film but hey, at least there’s still some other school where I took up AB Film.  Red was never really my color anyway.

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This beautiful blue logo belong to Ateneo De Manila. The school of smart asses whom everyone sort of loves to hate because of their stereotyped personality to be extremely arrogant and somewhat pretentious. A nice little trivia about my family is that all 3 of my siblings are a part of that stereotype because they do study in Ateneo and are all kind of really proud of it. It is sort of understandable because hell, Ateneo is one of the greatest schools in the entirety of Asia and it has great organizations which satisfy everyone’s sort of interest. My sister is part of a film organization even if she’s taking up AB Psychology. It’s a great place to aim for your dream job while at the same time, develop your other passions and that campus environment sounds really perfect to me, man.

Now, admittedly blue looks really nice on me. I have this blue cardigan which I never stop wearing and it’s exactly in Ateneo’s color. My fingers are crossed and so are my legs, arms, and every body part that comes with a twin because this is actually my dream school here in the Philippines. If I don’t make it in here, I would be devastated as heck and I’ll probably end up crying for days, months, and probably a whole year. I took up Information Design here. It’s this nice little versatile course that offers you a lot of options for your future job. There’s a little bit of journalism, a little bit of architecture, a little bit of interior design, a little bit of graphic design, a little bit of film, and a little bit of just everything related to my interests. I’m telling you, this is seriously my course and I would kill my gym teacher if I had to, to get into this school. I seriously would. 

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This is De La Salle University. The douche bag of the universities filled with douche bags from my school. I want to go to college really badly because I want to be away from my high school classmates and inch closer towards my dreams and I can’t have that with the my former classmate’s presence in the same building as me. I don’t ever intend to go here and nor shall I ever think of ever considering this school. Besides, I don’t have a course there . I place AB Psychology and AB Advertising as my courses but I am never going there. If I do end up going to this school, please shoot me. Thanks. I’m not saying all from La Salle are douche bags, it’s just that all the people I know that go there are douche bags and it’s not coincidence because they come from my school. 

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University of Santo Tomas has a really nice logo. Every time I look at their logo, I always think of Here Comes the Sun except that song is quite the opposite of what really happens in this school. It’s literally a school of fish because of countless amount of times students have to wear rain boots and swim back home. A proof of that is this picture. 

Rainy seasons are at least twice a year here in the Philippines and it’s really terrible. Especially for UST students. I am trying for BS Architecture or AB Interior Design here. If I fail all my other exams then I might, just might resort to going to this school.

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If you’re wondering why this logo looks really similar to La Salle’s, it’s because Saint Benilde is the art’s part of La Salle, silly. Although I may have said some not so nice things about La Salle(due to experience, just to clarify I’m not generalizing), La Salle is like the scientific brother of the very artsy Saint Benilde. Basically, they’re  both La Salle but Saint Benilde is groovier.

This was also the other school I was talking about which I could take up AB Film in and it’s a very beautiful college. This is the building where all the arts related courses take place. AND I WILL BE IN THAT VERY BUILDING ONE DAY. Well, that is if I don’t make it to Ateneo.

My second choice for this school is Interior Design but I heard it’s program there wasn’t very good so if I pass this school and only this school, I shall become  a production manager or art director and you shall see my name in really tiny texts at the end of the movie where no one ever pays attention to anything but the director, producer, and actors.

I shall let you know when I pass a school at all. Wish  me luck.

If I were to describe my life in a nutshell right now, it would simply be “that Filipino person who can’t really speak Filipino and studies in a Chinese school”. When my dad was in law school, he went to Taiwan for a year and decided that his children should totally learn Chinese so he enrolled me in this fabulous little unknown school in the middle of the city which was a complete and utter mistake. Skip a few years later and you get this lazy butt Filipino kid who struggles to juggle her own language (I’ll talk about my shame some other time) and the Chinese language. There is this terrible misconception that Chinese is all just “ching chang ling long” stuff but nope, that’s just racist and Chinese is a lot harder than you think. If you’re like me and you’re not one bit Chinese and neither speak Chinese one bit at home and have watched Barney (to get angry at him for not being able to touch his toes with his hands) all your prepubescent life then you be experiencing hell like me right now—yes, hello, I’m typing from Satan’s lair until high school ends—because studying Chinese is like being in Satan’s lair. My father put me and my siblings in a traditional Chinese school which means that whoever headed the school probably expected only Chinese folks to actually enroll in. I’m the .005% who is not Chinese in the school so I always end up looking like a fool in Chinese class when I don’t understand a thing because my school already expects everyone to know Chinese as easy as 1,2,3 and do,re, mi. AND IT’S NOT LIKE SOME JACKSON 5 SONG FOR ME OKAY. I have never been taught the basic structures and shit, I’ve just been taught how to reading Confucius at the young age of 6. Imagine coming to school and the first thing they teach you is a French poem written by Balzac.

I’ve been studying in a Chinese school for over 10 years now and I still don’t really understand an inch of their word except maybe for the animals, vegetables, and a few action verbs but honestly, I don’t understand the language and am mindlessly memorizing things for the sake of passing my last year in high school. I’ve always told my parents about how hard it was for me to keep on memorizing simply because it was graded, because I enjoy learning better than torturing my brain with useless information– but they never really took my word seriously. For my three years in high school, I almost failed my Chinese subject THREE TIMES IN A ROW AND STILL my words were not taken seriously. I’ve attempted to get a tutor but my dad kept on forgetting about hiring one. Google translate was hardly any help either. It just gave me really, really badweird translations like “bunny’s foot tar” for a supposed “he went to the marker”. The only way I somehow survived was through a couple of kind souls in my class who tried to explain things to me like I was Forrest Gump but hey,  at least it worked-ish.

There’s this recitation thing that’s required in my Chinese class where I have to recite these 10 liner conversations or verses word per word. An example of a conversation I had to recite recently:

Dude 1: Hey, let’s go buy a present for ___(insert Chinese name)__!

Dude 2: Yeah, where do you want to go buy that present?

Dude 1: I was thinking, we should go buy the present at ___(inset mall name)__.

Dude 2: Good idea, but what do you think you would get __(whatever)__?

Dude 1: I don’t know, I’ll see when I get there. How about you? What do you want to get for __(really??)__?

Dude 2: I was thinking maybe a __(siopao or some thing)__.

Then the conversation will go on round and around about two Chinese dudes who can’t make up their minds on a damn birthday present. I have to memorize the whole conversation and it’s really ridiculous. The only thing that gets me through it is thinking of the few more months I have left before finally leaving Satan’s home.

I have three more months to make my Chinese grade survive and I have been trying to work my ass in “studying” so I won’t have to take summer classes and miss my last free summer before I begin college and have no breaks in life till I get a job and get old, have kids, and retire– the only time where I will get to have my next break. And then I die and party in heaven where life’s painful sufferings will finally come to an end. I could be chit chatting with Confusius and we’d both be laughing about how I was really dumb in Chinese class and eternity would be groovy.

Sometimes I wish I could have just moved to another school but I had no choice and so most of the time, my life is just a lot like this song:

  

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