Silence

Dear Classmate,

I walked in with the rest of you. As usual, you ignored me. I sat at the very back of the room and leafed through an open book. In silence, I read. In silence, I lived.
I tried to be friends with you. But every time I walked towards you, you walked away. Are you afraid of me? Ashamed of me? Disgusted? Appalled? I want to know why you hate me so much.
But I still don’t, because you don’t even talk to me.
The teacher came in and started the morning roll call. She mentioned my name, the last on the list, and I raised my hand. Everybody became quiet, and took out their books and pens. I knew that it would be the last time I would be called. Until tomorrow’s roll call.
I am the girl everyone ignored.
Everyone.
It was like I existed for the sake of existence.
The lesson started, and I tried to pay attention. I looked at you and you were secretly laughing with your friends.
I wondered what it would feel like to laugh with people. Because, if I am not ignored, then I am laughed at. It would be nice to laugh with you. I always wanted to be friends with you. You were everything I wanted to be. Smart, beautiful, funny...
Everybody loved you.
I continued to leaf through the book, interest in the lesson all forgotten.
Then the teacher asked, “Who wrote Pride and Prejudice?”
No one answered. Then, her eyes stopped in my direction. I took it as a sign that she was telling me to answer.
So I stood up and walked to the front, because I did know. Jane Austen. I remember, because we have the same first name.
You suddenly shivered. “Somebody turn the fan off! It’s cold.”
“It is off,” your seatmate told you.
I picked up a piece of chalk. Then I began writing.
Jane.
I stopped. I didn’t want to write Austen. Maybe it was time I gave myself some attention, after all.
I wrote “Jane” again. And again. Again. I kept writing like my life depended on it. Life? What a joke.
You screamed. Somebody fainted. Others started running away, and still others were frozen in place.
Now you know my name.
You just couldn’t see me.
Then again, you never saw me when I was alive.
Being dead was no different.
You were unable to run; perhaps your senses were not working properly. I walked toward you and held your hand. You were warm. Or I was cold. I don’t know. I think it was both. You fainted.
I did know that my body was somewhere cold, lying in metal, awaiting autopsy.
Lying there, because you killed me.
Remember when you were driving last week towards your parents’ house? It was the weekend and you were drunk. I was going home, too. But unlike you I didn’t have a car.
You hit me. You knew you hit me, because you got out of your shiny new Porsche and looked at the road behind you. You saw me, you checked my pulse. Or lack thereof.
You were afraid.
I wasn’t.
I was finally free of my disfigured body. It wasn’t my fault that my mother tried to abort me, and failed. It wasn’t my fault that I had, as you said, half-a-nose. Nor was it my fault that my spine was curved and my feet were uneven. None of it was my fault, and yet you made me pay.
You got back into your car and rode off into the night in a cloud of dust and smoke. Relief, too, since you knew nobody saw you.
You didn’t think you’d see me again, did you?
Tut, tut.
It’s your turn to be ignored by the rest of the world.
But don’t worry, I’m not going to let you out of my sight.
Tonight, you join me in silence.

Random Post

Randomness.

Location: UP Diliman Main Library

Reason for being here: Passing the time 'til I have to go back to the gym and practice the pep squad cheers. (It's only 3:30 and they start the general rehearsal at 5:30.) In short, taking advantage of the 20 free hours of internet for no particular reason. Hey, it's airconditioned here. Not like the heat outside is enjoyable... It's "to die for."

Random News:

I DIDN'T FLUNK MATH. Midsem standing says "3.00." Hell yes. I thought I was going to get a 5 on that. The dreaded "singko." Still half the sem to go... That's one long test and one final exam to survive (and I need to get a 60% on all of them lest I face the ugly reality of failure.)

I was in the College of Arts and Letters a while ago and I ran into Raphie. We met in Koronadal, South Cotabato during the regional press conference. Anyway, we had this conversation (paraphrased)... He's taking Math 17, by the way. UP people you know what that means. Hehe.

Me: I didn't flunk Math 11.
Raphie: I have an airconed classroom.
Me: I didn't flunk Math 11.
Raphie: I have an airconed classroom.
Me: I didn't flunk Math 11.
Raphie: I have an airconed classroom.
Me: I didn't flunk Math 11.
Raphie: I have an airconed classroom.
Me: I didn't flunk Math 11.
Raphie: I have an airconed classroom.
Me: I didn't flunk Math 11.
Raphie: You suck!!!!!!!! DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And the rest of the walk to the Math building we were lamenting on how we paid 3,000 (me) and 5,000 (him) for our stupid math classes. I mean, I DON'T NEED MATH. Seriously. Where in POLITICAL SCIENCE do I need algebra? Sure, if it's economics that's fine by me... But this is algebra for crying out loud!

I found the complete collected works of Ambrose Bierce in the CAL Library, by the way.
*This is me jumping up and down like the geek that I am.

Random Questions:

Is "Twilight" as good as everybody says it is? I mean, all this ranting and raving (and swooning) has me thinking "is this worth all the fuss?" From the standpoint of someone who hasn't read it yet, it sounds like a mushy mushy mushy mushy mushy (did I mention mushy?) love story of a girl and a vampire.And, honestly, that's not even new. And all I kept hearing is about this "Edward" guy. Sure, whatever. What about the story? Is there something new in it (different, like a je ne sais quios) or is everybody swearing by it because it's "in?" Okay, SORRY to the fans of the book. But I hate cliche-y love stories. Wait, I hate love stories, period. If it has a tragic ending then I'd probably hate it less. (Stop psycho-analysing me. I know you are.) If it's vampires as the topic then I'd rather read Anne Rice.

*This might also be due to the fact that I don't like reading mainstream stuff. If everybody likes it I start liking it less.

Oh yeah, before I forget, why do they keep skipping the Narnia books?

It goes like:
Magician's Nephew
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
The Horse and His Boy
Prince Caspian
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
The Silver Chair
The Last Battle

Why do they keep skipping???

I though Prince Caspian was one of the less interesting books. Book II is alright. But WHY SKIP???!!! It's losing the "essence." They're ordered like that for a reason. Maybe those producers seem to think that the ones with the Pevensie children are the only ones worth showing. Yeah, but what about the other good stuff? Sheesh.

And while I'm on the topic of books...

Why do bookstores (shops, boutiques, etcetera) sell those cheap, vile, disgusting, worthless, crap-filled unoriginal, trying hard, repulsive little paperback love stories? (The adjectives just keep on coming.) You know, the ones your yaya probably reads. Mine did. DID. I don't have a yaya anymore. (Defensive.) Anyway, I think those are a waste of resources. They're printing major crap on paper. If people want crap they'd go to their bath rooms. Not the bookstores. To think most National Bookstores have shelves devoted to these. If I see these in Powerbooks/ Fully-booked I might just lose faith in all humanity.

(Am I offending anyone? Oh, I'm sorry. But this is MY blog. I'm saying what I want to say.) Okay, hyper me.

And, for that matter, why in the freaking hell are people reading that crap??? Follow-up: Why are people writing that crap??? There are a million things one can write can write about. The world holds wonders for him/her who has the eyes to see them. I don't know why those writers can't find anything to write about but those extreme travesties of literature.

Last night, I was watching the news (GMA-7) and I heard something like "Ding-dong nagselos... *something* girlfriend niyang si Karylle," right before the commercial break. My mind went "What the f***?" You people just wasted millions of pesos worth of airtime for shit like that???!!! Who the effing hell cares about those people??? God. Oh. Am I allowed to use that? Oh whatever. God!

Mainstream media these days are just plain first-class crap.
Don't even let me get started on Filipino movies of the past five years.

Sign of the Week:

"Babala: Mag-ingat. Gumuguhong Pader."
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Must research on Ancient Egypt now. Au revoir. A la semaine prochaine.

Post scriptum... Stop psycho-analysing me. I'm just on hyper mode.
:-D