Why Do I?

I think I’m on the verge of some testosterone overload. Don’t get your hopes up. There’s nothing sexual about my first statement.

It’s just that I am presently kind of trapped with my dad and three brothers. It’s been more than a month since my sister left for the country she now serves and it’s been two weeks since my mom flew south of the country I serve. I don’t know. The women in my family seem to be leaving us, men.

See? Testosterone overload.

I can humor you all night about living with two men and two boys, yet it will not solve what this situation may do to me. We do not have sufficient proof that I have enough XX chromosomes to keep me, well, female. I worry that if mom doesn’t come back soon, I might grow a mustache, a beard, or both.

* * *

If you read me regularly, you might notice how actively I have been blogging lately. It is a good sign. It means I am writing again. And I have conquered constipation. Then again, it means I have been withdrawing myself from society and spending more time in front of a PC. Now that is not at all healthy (not only for my social life but also for our electric bill).

Sometimes I wonder why I do this. Why I maintain a blog? Why I document the things that happen to me? Why I come up with movie reviews? Why I talk to myself in case no one reads me?

For one, there are some people I do not see or talk to as often as I did before whom I want to update about me. My sister, for example. We used to talk a lot or seem to talk a lot. Now, we are lucky if we communicate at least once a week. By communicate I mean share trivial things—our day’s highs and lows—not discuss business. I know she’s always out there stuck with her laptop. I might as well entertain her on how I have been wasting my life if and when she goes online.

Another reason maybe is to save myself from bursting. I have to unload my thoughts somewhere, otherwise I will lack more sleep than I do now. I refuse to become a full-time zombie. Probably once or twice a week is fine, but 24/7? I don’t think so. Besides this is the best way I can practice what I have stayed in college for four and a half years.

The final and most sentimental reason has something to do with remembering and sharing. I think that events and thoughts are too good to forget or to keep to oneself. With this blog, I feel secured that I will be able to remember and share.

* * *

Speaking of, I have another anecdote to tell. I was walking on the way home (why do I sense a grammatical error there?) when I passed by a little girl who was coaching a younger sibling on how to talk. Anyway I caught her saying “teacher” as she was looking at me. I glanced back at her only to witness her next words, “sabihin mo teacher.” (She gestures at me like she were certain that I am a teacher.)

I released an incredulous and disappointed, high-pitched “ahh” which I think scared the poor girl. Yes there is nothing wrong about looking like a teacher. If you are a teacher.

I am not.

So don’t ask me why I hate my uniform!

* * *

I have got to do something about talking to myself aloud in public to avoid scaring not just kids but people in general.

Once while aimlessly walking around a mall, I heard a guy singing or, more precisely, desecrating U2’s With or Without You in one of those gadget shops selling Magic Sing. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing aloud and from saying, “you have got to be kidding me” like I were talking to someone with flesh and bones standing beside me. I wonder how many people think I am a schizo by now.

Back in college while I was ascending the stairs leading to the humanities department, I received a text message from a creepy classmate. In 160 characters or less, he tried to profess his “infatuation” towards me. (Note: The dictionary meaning of infatuation, as it turns out, is “foolish and usually extravagant short-lived passion or love or admiration.” Yikes!)

My instant response to the said stimulus was a loud “#&*^_@ +$\! (profanity in Filipino) Sabi ko na nga ba di ako dapat nag-pipink!”

Yes I was wearing a pink shirt that day.

* * *

I know I am not the prettiest entity with boobs so I do not have the right to be extremely mean to men. However I, more often than not, could not help it.

Take this (exact) message from an aspiring anonymous texter who thought I was a moron not to have an idea who he is. By the way, I am publishing his real mobile number. I'm trying to enjoy this the best way possible.

09274489689: Hello good morning! How r u have a nice day hope that God is alway their for u pwede po bang makipagkaibigan ako pala si Romeo single Tyeren din ba pangalan mo

My reply: Sori, dnt lyk dumb ppl. Ur 4x guilty: 1.Romeo-such lame alias! 2.Tyeren-wrong spelng 3.Horrendous grammar 4.4 thinking Id txt bak after this. Nice try. Gud day.

Who says being mean isn’t fun?

COMMENTS

it is one of the funnest fun things there are!
Posted by: Poli | June 25, 2006 08:29 AM

Teacher. It's better being called a teacher even if you're not one than being asked at a bookstore if the bookstore sells this type of paper because the stupid woman didn't see that the bookstore's employees' uniform is different from the f*cking uniform you are wearing which your damn office required you to wear because they feel harrased whenever you dress in corporate attire knowing that you are the sexiest and youngest employee in your workplace. =)
Posted by: Badger Addict | August 5, 2006 06:05 AM