I'm back. Here's my 
I’m back from Los Banos where no jeep ceased operation to support that so-called Transport Holiday. I’ve been receiving text messages from Kim about the annual Oblation Run that happened two hours ago at Los Banos. Gays and Oblation Runs, it’s just like Tokwa’t baboy, Puto’t dinuguan and even moar.
I’ve been staring at empty walls recently. It became more than a hobby this past week. I kinda just like stared at walls for hours at no end. After two days of staring at empty walls, it became an addiction. I no longer listened to the usual hullabaloos of Professors and Lecturers during class–I just stared at walls.
Once, or maybe twice, I’d glance at a bored classmate of mine and think about what he/she was thinking as s/he was yawning. Maybe if he’d stare at walls to he’d be glad about it.
Went to Quiapo last Saturday (when everything was still fine) and the heavens gave me this amazing pre-Christmas gift: the ONCE dvd. If you’ve got 50 pesos inside your pocket, go buy the DVD. I swear to god, you’ll love it more than love. It’s about two strangers meeting over a week and literally make sweet music. It’s fucking inspiring and heartbreaking at the same time. Emo at its finest without the black eyeliners. Anyway, will post a review later on (along with 5 other movies that I promised to review).
Now, back to staring at walls.
I’ve been imagining things moving along the empty walls. Sometimes, they’re little monsters crawling towards my Statistics I lecturer. Oftentimes, Its as if these empty walls were mirrors and I could see myself staring through it.
You call it a heartbreak simply because your heart is broken, you get it? Well, yeah duh.
In creating a somewhat continuation of the last post, Yes I am lonely. Just like the past cunts that did this to me, I can’t do anything about it. So I just stare at walls. I’m usually like this for weeks. It’s like my own meltdown, the only difference is I always take someone down with me.
I also tend to become a misogynist for a couple of weeks. Girls would be called cunts and women would be called whores. No offense, it’s nothing personal. Although, if you’re a good friend, who is a girl, this would result to me calling you a “bitch” which is like my term of endearment to some of my friends and cousins. The only difference is, when I’m at my mourning period, my friends who are girls would be called “bitch” in a more angry way. For example:
Before:
Shinji: Bitch, how are you?
Girl who is a friend: Okay lang!During these days:
Shinji: BITCH! HOW ARE YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH?!
Girl who is a friend: O-o-okay lang…
Anyway, I bumped into Karen hours ago during my staring-into-nothingness-walk. Staring-into-nothingness-walk happens to me around the campus. Imagine this: I’m walking around UPLB with my earphones glued to my ears, the iPod is calibrated at the highest volume possible, and I totally erase everyone around me. It’s fun to do, and people look at you like you’re a zombie or whatnot.
Back to Karen. Karen is one of the nicest girl who is a friend evar. And she doesn’t complain when I call her a “bitch” when I’m in my angry mode (refer to quote above). She somehow knows when I’m fucked up, or stoned, or angry, or whatever. That’s what I like about her, cause you know we’ve known each other since high school. And she knows a secret or two about me. I mean, it’s nice to have friends like Karen. Petite girls are always nice to talk to, they give you the best advice evar.
Because of this wonderful transport strike, Francis and I would be watching the new Khavn dela Cruz film tomorrow over at IndieSine. I don’t know if TJ would come along.
The moral lesson of the week for me that I would definitely carry throughout my entire lifetime would be: Do not fall for girls who are studying in Diliman anymoar. I guess I won’t be falling for film students, too. They tend to be busy. I’d have to cross out girls studying Business Administration, too. They somehow plan to be lawyers someday.
On the upside, I won’t have to worry about finding her a gift for Christmas. I could always take a shit and mail it to her. Though, I think I’d mail her my broken heart instead. NAKS PUTANGINA ANG EMO! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
