socially awkward

Tried calling everyone from my mock-flock - unsuccessfully. I only got to talk to 1 out of 5. I thought I was being silly rehearsing what I was supposed to tell them over the phone. Then I got a sudden rush of desperation. I dialed the the first set of numbers. The phone rang This is for real, I thought. Then my heart rate jumped to somewhere near 190 beat a minute. A "hello" burst out from the phone! Oh my God! It's actually from the phone. Good Lord, why am I such a social retard?

Then I said: "Hlow yis pis e-eric frown Celon, kinai shpeak to jaeydiii pleeeese?" The person seemed to understand despite the sub-humanness of my brief spiel. I thought maybe she had braces too. Then at last to JD (i.e. jaeydiii). Normal chitchat proceeded except for my unusual and frequent exclamations, which I still find weird. Okay, I put the phone down and dialed the next number, with my voice still shaking. Luckily- or otherwise- 2 didn't answer, 1 was not home, 1 was a wrong number. Hoo ha.

Loner Eric using the phone for casual chitchats is not normal in this part of the universe. I don't know who's on the other end of the phone line. I need some serious education on socialization. I never used the phone for to affect friendship back in high school? Hell, that's not even a question. I prolly hated most of them then anyway that's why. Haha!

I think I'm way past people-phobia. I'm very comfortable talking to strangers and even crowds these days. But talking to someone you don't know and don't see is totally something else for me. I was literally rehearsing my lines before I dialed the first number. Retard.

....

I have finally made my stand on current happenings in this country. Legislators should pursue the impeachment. We should know the truth and address the concerns of those who believe in our being a democracy. And maybe to insist the resignation of the president through bureaucratic means, not through mobs. All actions should be constitutional, otherwise we'll say hello to recurring mob/elite rule.

I'd stamp a big question mark to "The Filipino People". This has been used by various groups when talking about themselves and what they want to happen to this country. How dare you assign a government of your own choice?! Only after this conflict should we really have a new revolution, a change in the system of governance. Changing the president would only entail the same conflicts I think.

We are responsible for upholding correctness if we really want change. What "we" were you talking about when you said we have done this before and we can do this again? Give us a break.

drifting

Nothing exceptional to write about. Maybe this can be a way for me to interpret my subconscious some day in the future, like how our stupid psych teacher made us draw a person and spout random guesses and interpretation.

Anyway, I woke up 7am. Got some bread and oatmeal for breakfast. It was raining really hard.

I was late for Theo class this morning. We had the usual group discussion about the assigned reading. As expected, some more discussion for the entire class after the group discussion. And whoa! People really got into the discussion about faith as something communal. Apparently Ms. Beadle was a recent Catholic convert, arguing that the subjective aspect of faith is the essential thing. She got all cathartic, while some other devout countered her.

There was this horse-faced barbie who seemed rather smug while discussing her point against Ms. Beadle. Hated her immediately. Ok maybe I'm not making any sense, but then, can't they be more collected? And oh, Mr. programmer's a self-proclaimed atheist. Another heated participant of the discussion. I wonder if he really meant saying that. I liked how Ms. Rosana handled everything. Maybe people should do this more for the entire class.

Oh did I mention that I was soaked waist down when I entered Theo class? I found it quite refreshing actually. After the class, I braved the mad weather going to Xavier Hall to pay my tuition but decided otherwise because of the long queue.

Instead, I entered Supply Chain Management class, our "favorite" class. Emphasis on the quotations. I just hate it when insecure yuppies/grad school people teach. Why does he have to teach like we're in some Psychiatric ward? It'd be good if he were the patient.

We got dismissed some 10 mins early. We ran for some snacks and hurried for Philo class but Father David was missing in action. We'll probably have a class this Saturday to make up for that. Well, we'll hear everything from him on Thursday. I hope he cancels the Saturday class. No one wants to go to school on a Saturday!

Finally I got to pay my tuition fee in Xavier. Got on the train at around 1139, still soaking wet. And got home 30 minutes later and stayed online forever.

Now. I'm about to have dinner. Oh and did I mention that Sis is flying for Canada tom to take her exams. I don't know what to say. Uhm. Bye? I plan not to talk to her until I'm about 60. Hehe! It's that bad between us. Cold shoulder and all that jazz.

Anyway. Why do I write all these mundane stuff? Why do I want to believe that I can find something meaningful when I read this in the future? We are infected with the "art" of psychology. Every interpretation is worthy. It's that ridiculous.

eyes like mine

I didn't know what to think or feel when I received messages earlier this afternoon about the death of my high school English teacher. I was in Landbank when I read them. He died of colon cancer and heart disease last Tuesday. His body will be buried tomorrow in Nueva Ecija. I guess everyone in my batch is still as shocked as I am to this very moment.

He was always there whenever I try to conjure up memories of high school. He is definitely someone to remember. I can't forget the time he introduced himself to our class, and to the time we said goodbyes on graduation.

One thing I specially remember was his eyes. Eyes that have known real loneliness. I remember him always being jovial and funny, but I never missed his eyes whenever he made us laugh. I guess I can say he succeeded in trying to make that link between people and himself. I really don't want to spoil my memories of him. I'll stop there. This is not just some desperate attempt to make sense of his life. This is to comprehend what he had been to us.

He also believed in us. He believed in me, in whatever paltry talent I exuded. I felt that. Only one in a thousand teachers can make you believe that you can do wonderful things. I never believed in myself the way he did. He was happy when we passed those college entrance exams. He taught us eagerly. He talked to us about what we think, even of our lives and dreams, as if her really cared. And Lord knows we were young then and we needed that to get respect ourselves and to validate that we do matter.

Perhaps these are exaggerated claims. But he was real inspiration.

...

Have you known real loneliness? I don't mean to exaggerate, but even the mere memory of how sad things were renders me incapable of reaching out to people. But I must aspire to make sense of my life through others, the same way my teacher did. After all, that's the only meaningful thing we can do with our lives.

...

Be planning to go to Nueva Ecija on Sunday or next Friday. Be meeting Ka tom to plan everything.