Debutante

I’ve been chewing on some deep thoughts lately - well, since RR asked me what my ideal guy is.

I simply replied: “Someone who wouldn’t need me..”

It’s like Julia Roberts line in the movie Closer when Clive Owen asked her why she’s having an affair with Jude ‘Hottie-But-Reportedly-Has-A-Small-Wang’ Law.

“Do you love him?” Owen confronts his wife.

“Yes..” Roberts replies.

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t need me,” she said with conviction.

What exactly did I mean when I said I want someone who wouldn’t need me?

I want him to want me. Yes. But, not depend on me… Like the Mark Darcy type from Bridget Jones’ Diary. Oh,Colin Firth is just too damn beautiful (though somewhat balding and wrinkly), and he definitely epitomizes my ideal man.

I want someone who’d be stronger than me.. I’ve no strong feminist sentiments, and I don’t mind my man subduing me (in all the right time and place, of course). I want him to be better than me. I’m really not that great, so it shouldn’t be such a hard task.

JC told me before that none of my guy friends wanted to mess with me because they didn’t want to hurt me. Bullshit. I say, that’s because they’ve got no balls to do so.

Bring forth the Spartans. I want real men.

Patience is a virtue I could honestly say I haven’t mastered yet (nor have the patience itself to work on). I’m not a shameless impatient person.. I’m the kind who holds it in.. the kind who bottles everything up inside.. and the kind who goes schizophrenic after a while. I know, I know. It’s not healthy.. and I should learn how to healthily vent all my frustrations.

And so I resort to writing, a more painless and bloodless ordeal.

Anyway.. Today is a bad day for everything.

Let me count the ways….

I am being charged the out-of-country fee for college. One hundre-fucking-ninety-three dollars per unit. No, I don’t poop greenbacks, nor do my parents, I think. And so I had to establish my residency here.. So I had to drive down there this afternoon with all my legal papers, utility bills, a year-long record or my parents’ mortgage payments, the house papers, and my passport in tow.

By the way, I drove Rain today (MY new car)… And on the way to the student parking lot, there is this curve… and to make the long, painful story short, I hit the curb.. and that left a foot-long, half an inch wide scratch on the sideskirt of my new car.

I was close to tears when I saw the damage..

But then I had to compose myself because I had to talk to the admission lady and sort out my residency status. So I marched in the Admissions office and there were at least 15 people on the line. Just what I needed..

So I stayed on the line for a good 15-minute period - with all the while I was having bouts of anxiety attacks thinking about my car.. And then there came the good part.. I found out that I wasn’t supposed to go on that line.. that I was to go to the other side of the room. To my relief, there were only two people waiting on the window I was supposed to go into. So I waited.. 5 minutes became 10.. and 10 became 20 minutes.. and 20 minutes became 45 minutes.. and no person in the window showed up.

I was going nuts.. Made me think I might have schizophrenia tendencies because I was pissed and I was anxious.

I rang the little counter bell, and the guy who was waiting with me looked as if I made an offense.

“Well, that’s what it’s here for, right?” I remarked.

I guess he understood. We were both in the same line for the longest time without any assistance or assurance whatsoever. I was this close [–] to just saying fuck it.. but then a guy passed by and he was able to accommodate me.

And for this anomaly in the universe and because my day is apparently off to a bad start, I was not able to sort out my papers for the residency thing in the end of all the trouble.

So my sister and I drove home.. and to gratify what’s left of me, I headed to Burger King to get my depression medication. Nothing can do a better job than a hearty Whopper burger, some king-fries, and a tub of ice-cold coke in times like this.

Fuck prom. I dont care if I become a tub of lard by then..

… no not really.

My corolla ran out of gas yesterday and so because of my nouveau-driver status and my ignorance in filling up my own gas tank, I was forced to drive my mom’s beat up, unflattering car to school today. It’s a 2-door Ford Probe. It’s a coupe, alright — a coupe from the Medieval Times, that is. The seat belts don’t even work.. They were so loose, the belt strap was falling off my shoulder..

Man. I know I’m gonna have to use that from now on, because my dad doesn’t trust me (completely) with the new car yet so I’d have to endure driving this Ford Probe aptly named “Honey.” My mom named it. It’s weird, I know. My dad named his Honda Odyssey “Mossey.” We used to have a Nissan Quest, and his name was “Mikey.”

My Corolla’s name is “Rain.” My dad named it. Maybe because it’s like my name all jumbled up.. I actually find it cool. I love Rain — as in the Korean popstar. He’s one hot piece of Korean Bulgogi. What a yummy person.

Anyways.. back to the car issue.. I don’t think that Ford Probe should be let out in the streets anymore. I’m basing this from my own personal (objective) concerns. That car is so old it burns gas inefficiently, thus, it’s a hazard to the ozone, and I care about the ozone. Global warming? I actually wanted to become an environmental scientist before.. but was quickly discouraged by my dad (who incidentally works in the oil/ petroleum industry).

Well…
It shouldn’t really matter, right? At least I could drive and have a car to drive. Argh. Sometimes it pains me to take things for granted. I should be thankful, right? Oh I hate to touch upon this subject this late in the evening.. I don’t want to sit here typing away my sentiments all night. Haha..

And I need to wake up early tomorrow because I’ll be volunteering at the annual Revlon Run/ Walk for Breast Cancer in Los Angeles.. Yihee..

It was only about 7:20 in the morning when I started yelling at my sister for being a slowpoke. Man, I had my English AP test today and I was so worried I wouldn’t get any parking space near the school so I tried (though unsuccessfully) to leave early..

We got there at 7:30-ish and lucky me, I found a parking space so-conveniently situated right in front of the school. I figured the closer your car is to the school, the less likely it’ll be keyed by no-good bastards who grow jealous at the sight of a new car.. My car doesn’t even have a plate number yet. It still reeks of that new-car smell, but I don’t really mind. I’ve grown accustomed to it, and it’s actually pretty okay — not burberry-weekend or vera-wang-princess OKAY, but adequate.

So I got in front of the library where they were going to give out the tests and all I could see were cliques of kids fully-absorbed in their binders, studying for this exam. Unlike them, and fortunately so for me, I’m not under such a pressure to do well because I’m not directly going to a university this fall and my future associate-degree alma mater does not require me to do “exceptionally” in this test. I think having that in mind — you know, of me having this carefree attitude towards that test — gave me more edge to do better.

I didn’t study.. I read no poems (except for Rossetti’s cheesy, love-themed, yet so sweetly-written Monna Innominata). I didn’t Sparknotes my previously read novel to “refresh my memory.” Let’s keep this between you and me, but I did not prepare for this test at all.. Ms. Gonzales is not gonna be happy with it.. Tsk.

But hey, I think I did well on the multiple choice part.. For the essays.. well.. hmm.. maybe not as well.. I was thinking of a synonym for “seriousness” half the time and couldn’t come up with anything.. Man, I feel so stupid. I blanked out and as a result, my essays were written with minimal depth and redundancy. Arrgh.

But it’s over with! I’m glad.

I got my driver’s license today, and as always, i look like a f****** munchkin on it. I hate ID pictures. I always seem to look weird-er and fat-er (not that I don’t look weird or fat enough in person.. it’s just my weird and fat features seem to be more accentuated on them darn shots).

***

We had a family dinner to celebrate Mothers’ Day and my dad’s arrival from San Diego yesterday. Though I ate a mouthful, I didn’t really feel guilty about pigging out because, I think, this is the first time in weeks that my family has sat down together to enjoy a decent meal.

It was a fun dinner too. We had a Korean-barbecue style dinner. My mom brought the griddle and we cooked our own beef, chicken, or shrimp allotments. That’s 5 more pounds right there.. But it’s all good. I actually love it when my family eat together. My mom was close to tears when we were cheering for her because it was our Mothers’ Day dinner..

“It’s been a while since our house had this much laughter..” she said. “Now, we’re all here. Daddy’s here. And we’re eating together again..”

“Ma, don’t go all emo on us..” I quipped.

“I know I know.. I just like us like this..”

Awww..

Times like these make me forget all the mishaps that happened to me all through out the day.

It was a b**** looking for a parking space in the morning.

My music teacher reprimanded me (and 3 others — in a very subtle way) for my very-visible bra strap.

I sat on fresh bird poop.

And I forgot my house keys.. so I had to carry my sister up my shoulders to sneak through the side door..

Man..

Today was pretty interesting…

“My boyfriend have some Filipino and Vietnamese homies,” said P, while we’re at school.

“Hook it up!” I teased. “Haha.. as long as he’s cute and polite, I guess, he’ll do.. Haha..”

“Yeah.. Actually one of them is coming to pick me up..”

“He cute?”

“Yeah..”

“Well.. we’ll see..” I said half-thinking..

The guy comes.. pulls over, gets out of the car, and checks his trunk (literal car trunk — not that trunk). P and I were at a distance ogling.

“So what do you think?” P asked.

I look over Guy XYZ.. All I could discern was this 5′7″-ish, light skinned Vietnamese wearing a wifebeater shirt and khaki pants..

“Yummy,” I whispered to P.

Honestly, I didnt even get to see him.. I’m nearsighted and his face was a big blur. Bleh. Well, I’m desperate and have low standards anyways so why should it matter?

Haha.. Just kidding.

I know what I need to do. And I know I should do it now.

Man. Fucking AP exams.

I can’t do much now, nor can I arouse myself to do anything productive after chillin in san diego this weekend.. I’m just beat.

********

K, after ditching me for Valentine’s day, finally mustered the courage to call me..  Haha.. It’s funny now, cause he was too apologetic for what happened. Honestly, I didn’t really care.. Plus, Valentine’s day is overrated anyways..

*BUT.. K, if you’re reading this, you still owe me the flowers and the chocolates.. It’s never too late to get me those..

Oh wait, no.

Tsk. After all the binge eating I’ve done in San Diego (namely Conching’s and Royal Mandarin) I’ve already reached my quota for my food intake this week. So… no more meals for me.. just gum.. and coffee.. and air.

Woke up at around 8 this morning. Checked my phone for any text messages. Then I headed to my computerfront to see if I had any new emails or new messages or new whatevers from people.. All these I did even before I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth..

I know, I know.. It’s sad. My life is completely engulfed with all these technology things.. and again, I am reminded that my life is no more than a bore, and I’m slowly becoming a full-blown sociopath.. Tsk.

Haha..

Anyways.. so I left the house at about 9:45-ish and headed to Starbucks to get Paula’s and Brian’s caffeine fix. Drove to school.. hung out a little bit with Brian in my car.. and finally got to class.

School was a big blur.. I’m seriously terminal with my Senioritis, I tell you. In chemistry, I had to explain some chemistry kinetics mechanics in class (which is supposedly general knowledge by now) and I completely bombed it and made an ass of myself in front of the class..

“Rina,” my chem teacher called, ” Do you think if we reverse the reaction then it will be more favorable to the reactants?”

“Uhm.. no?” I hesitantly answered.

“Are you sure?”

“Mr. Hagen, is this a trick question?”

“Well… no. It’s just a matter of understanding how the mechanics work..”

Man, I hate reminiscing about my good old chemistry days.. when everything was easy and I wouldn’t ever get a grade lower than a 98% on any given test.. It makes me feel so incompetent now..

Now that I can barely raise my grade up to a B.. and when I’m probably one of the stupidest in the class.. My Asian powers fail me..

After school my mom, sister, and I headed to San Diego for [my cousin/ family friend] Anna’s confirmation. I still think the kids who get confirmed here in the states have it easy.. I got slapped by the priest when I was confirmed back in the Philippines.. Tsk.

This post is all over the places.. Sorry. It’s almost 3 in the morning..

Brian,

Take me back.

I was stupid last night…

It’s 1 in the morning.

I’m about half-way done with the personal statement essay.. and I must say.. that this essay is very tough to write and I already have blood coming out of my ear because my brain started bleeding..

Who could’ve imagined a narcissistic like me would have such a hard time writing about herself? I’ve already said it before.. I’m not very good in writing about who I am, because even I dont fucking know who the real Rina is. I need some major introspection. Seriously.

I can’t talk about the trivial things (the number of AP classes I’m taking, what instruments I play, what color my underwear is) for the whole duration of my essay. I need content. I need substance.

BUT I dont have any substance.

When I was scribbling down my thoughts.. I (probably subliminally) jotted down: “I am too proud to settle for mediocrity.”

BUT what I am right now has mediocrity written all over it.