Feel My Fury

This perhaps is the fourth, if not the fifth attempt I had this week to complete this entry. For some reason, I always end up doing something else instead of focusing my attention to concluding it. I have learned, reading other people's blogs, that it is more read-worthy when one shares only the minimal and crucial informations of the day; unfortunately I am not one of the usual people, and I dare to devote more time in adding all the superficial embellishments in my entries not only to highlight the interesting facts that I've learned but also in order for me to keep track of certain events which I would easily forget in the course of time.

I wonder how many people actually stop and think, okay today is September 3 and one year later I would remember this day as the day I did a particular event. I've been a victim of such a practice and pathetically, one year later, the days never mean anything more than the rest. It does not bear the same milestone as an anniversary or a birthday would. It is the simplest things that I want to take note of, whether or not my notes here would thus summon nothing but boredom from my readers.

Earlier this week, I was very enthralled by the fact that my name was in the newspapers. It turns out that a hurricane had hit New Orleans, which interestingly was named after me. There was massive destruction and the economies of Lousiana and Mississippi are said to suffer the calamity for a long period of time. Despite the devastation caused by my twin, the hurricane, I cannot feel as much anguish for the victims as much as pride that my name has finally made the papers not only as a small time natural disaster, but, according to my mom, as perhaps the seventh or eighth strongest hurricane to hit the United States.

It is petty and even childish of me to be ecstatic over a headline, but I can't help feeling all the publicity I've been receiving because of the stunt "my" hurricane has done. Yesterday during the Friday-Saturday Sacred Heart vigil that I attented with my mother, a parishioner commented on my name telling me how fearful she is for her pregnant daughter living there right now. Turns out, the hurricane was extremely powerful that it has reached the other states, though not of the same intensity. (I am not sure, eavesdropping isn't exactly a knack of mine)I've also received a text message from a friend telling me, "Ganda ng pangalan ng bagong storm ah.. Katrina.. Malakas talaga impact mo!". This message was further emphasized when he texted me days later just to inform me the intense havoc that the hurricane had succeeded in creating in the US, jokingly reminding me how much people there would hate me should I intend to go there anytime soon.

I haven't spoken with this friend for quite a time, not as deeply or profoundly as we used to before the "big change" which kind of pulled us apart in order to give us room to "cope". I may be speaking vaguely at this point, and perhaps the situation is best to be elusive until most of the pieces fall in their desired places. The time before the "change" was filled with philosophical talks, whether face to face or over the phone, mostly petty teenage matters as crushes, movies and events. I cannot deny that this friend of my mine is perhaps the only one who manged to tap into my thoughts and draw out the universe which I kept hidden inside my little head. He knows me better than any living person that I know, and it grieves me to think that we could no longer rekindle the same relationship as we used to have due to my "big decision". We may bear many different ideas but queerly, our polar concepts would create the "thesis-antithesis" effect which leads to our theory to be further paired with its antithesis. In short our conversations, in my perspective is far from my definition of boring. I enjoy the challenge of great minds, and although at times he may become stubborn especially in matters of the Faith (in which I cannot blame him), he is an intense debater, and a dear dear friend.

As one of organization's gimmiks, we were asked to write a testimonial for our peers. These write ups would then be incorporated into the "yearbook" which they were planning to create for the officers. Unfortunately though, perhaps due to lack of initiative as well as the tardiness and "laziness" of the many involved, it seems like the project will fail to materialize. My friend had already completed his write-ups for the officers and perhaps out of impatience for its manifestation in the said yearbook, had burned me a copy of his work. I truly enjoy his criticisms as well as praise not only for myself, but also for all the rest whom he kindly wrote a testimonial to.

He always calls me "the walking contradiction" and I love that. I just savor the many things he has to say about me, not only because they fulfill primary how I want to see myself, but also since these are things which I didn't even take any effort to articulate to him, and yet he observed. Although I prefer his description of me in my friendster account, I also enjoyed reading the write up which I will post as the succeeding paragraph. (I have asked for his permission to publish his work, and he consented with the stipulation that I acknowledge him for his work, and thus after a three-paragraph long introduction, may I present the work of a cherished friend of mine, Mr. Ben Fuentes..)

Katrina is at first seen as boisterous, loud and even superficial, but this is only a mask that she wears. Katrina is a whole Masquerade by herself – she’ll be noisy and carefree one minute and then quiet and deep the next as well as any combination of these traits (and more) in the moments that follow. There is so much more to Kat than what people see in the immediate surface. True to her favorite Broadway drama, she never takes her figurative mask(s) off and until now, her true nature lies hidden in the deep recesses of her mind where only she knows the whole extent of it. When indeed she shows us a glimpse of her true self, its profoundness is so overwhelming that many would see her reflections and ideas as unnatural and strange. This is the crux of Katrina’s existence – her uniqueness from the rest of the world, her refusal to follow the norms set by society, her ever dynamic nature that makes her unpredictable and exciting. Kat is an artist; she is a lover of books, poetry and music. Most of all she prides herself on her voice – which is indeed a masterpiece in itself. There is no one in the organization that has shown him/herself to be a better singer than Katrina. She is indeed in a league of her own in Englicom. In contrast to this talent, Kat shows an uncanny interest in death and all it pertains to – that includes the afterlife, pain, undeath, the list just goes on and on. In further contrast to this, Katrina is a devout Catholic and would zealously defend her faith given the right provocation. Truly a woman of many faces – all of which are equally interesting and endearing, Katrina will always be remembered as one of a kind – different, yes, but definitely in a nice way.

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I love going to the grocery.

Last Saturday, my mom was appalled by the manner I've behaved in the grocery, which perhaps in my opinion is not that shocking at all. I admit that one of the favorite things I like to do when I am in the grocery is to collect as many "free" recipe booklets as possible, pasting or copying them into my recipe notebook when I get home. It doesn't matter whether or not I wouldn't be able to create the tasty dishes at home due to the "kitchen wars" that is usually happening there, what matters is that I have an instruction manual of how to's just in case I would be required to use my much needed expertise in the kitchen.

I envy many people who were trained in their youth how to handle the kitchen stress. Evidently, I am not as lucky. The whole cooking affair is facilitated by a yaya, who'd scream bloody murder if I would do as much as unravel the contents of the refrigerator. Perhaps she is not as edgy as I described, but any mess that I may create in the kitchen would suffice to send her up the wall and up to my aunt's office to complain of my disorganized and disorderly conduct in "her" kitchen. And thus growing up, I have minimal time to spend in the magical room of the kitchen. The most which I managed to accomplish under the small intervals where no one was around the kitchen were the Milo-Nido experiment, which turned out to be the same thing every other kid was doing at the time and sandwiches with all sorts of fillings. I also learned to fry an egg by six, hotdogs, spams and other breakfast meals came a little later, but none later than my graduation from elementary.

By the time I stepped into high school, I still have an unclear manual as to how to cook spaghetti, or marinade a chicken. Most of what I know now about cooking are extracted from the generous sharings of television cook show hosts. Later on though, as the "chef" of the house changed, I was given more freedom to try new things, in fact I was then allowed to separate "my chicken parts" from the whole batch so that I can flavor them based on how I would like them. I have experimented with a variety of bottled herbs, not as good as the fresh ones, but it would have to do. I begun to acknoweldge my fixation with garlic, cooking it less and less; eating garlic rice with quasi-cooked garlic. I like my garlic raw as I tell most of my peers. Now, with more practice, my siblings and parents have taken confidence in my cooking, craving for it at times. Although I admit that my concoctions may not be of top grade quality, I take pride that they are edible enough as not to cause any disruptions in the natural flow of one's digestive system.

Returning to my story after the "slight" detour, I found a recipe booklet securely attached to a pasta packet with two long sticky tapes. I had taken a recipe booklet from the pizza sauce pack a few grocery visits before and thus the new recipe booklet posed to be a new challenge for me. I began to unwind the sticky tapes, until I managed to free the booklet. I opened my backpack and stuffed the stolen good in. You see, I never really shoplifted, I just took a supposedly "free" booklet. My mother who saw what I did didn't comment until we arrived home. My dad, who overheard the whole thing (I didn't get the eavesdropping knack of my dad, nor did I get my mom's) began to make fun of me, which didn't bother me at all. He kept saying, "see you in hell." and I was like.. "whatever" This went on, until my mom saw the recipes the booklet contained then she said, "Kat, since it's your break, why not cook these pastas, these look really yummy, how about one for every night." Oh well, there goes the sermon. I'm not gonna burn in hell, I'm gonna burn in the kitchen!

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I failed my Video Production this term. After three months of sleepless nights and cramming, not to mention the spending sprees that have gone into the whole course of the course, I managed to get a 0.0 in my course card. The only failing grade I attained for the term. The highest grade for the term though is 2.5, which is extremely disappointing, although not gravely when the effort I've exerted into the other subjects are taken into consideration.

I have already prepared myself for the reception of the failing grade though, not only because of my premonition that my camera handling, a prerequisite to a passing grade, will not be approved, but also due to an unforeseen event which destroyed the hopes of two other classmates of mine. Our professor had posted in the yahoogroups that the screening of our final project, our video autobiography, would promptly begin at 9 o clock am last Thursday. Tardiness would not be tolerated, and thus the works of late comers would not at all be entertained nor graded. Aside from that proviso, we were also expected to identify the specific timeslot we wish to present our work, thus creating the order in which the projects will be presented. The profesor would be posting a paper on the department bulletin prior to the showing date for the students, us, to allot the time portion we would like for our showing.

Monday and Tuesday passed without the paper being posted. By Wednesday, I was gravely troubled with my preproductions that I wasn't able to go to the university to check the bulletin nor my camera handling exercise. My actress had been absent for the past three meetings we were supposed to shoot, the deadline being the next day, I was undeniably stressed out from the problems that are arising. When I arrived on Thursday, I haven't completed my preproductions, and thus proceeded to an internet cafe to complete the ones which I lacked. By 9 am, I ran to the classroom where the showing was to be, only to be shocked that it had already begun. Asking around, I learned that it had begun at 8:30, in accordance to the schedule the teacher posted the day before. I was abjectly disheartened, not to mention disappointed by the fact that all the efforts I exerted were futile, which made me cry in front of my peers. Embarassing though, I have to admit that after so much work, the intial knowledge that one has failed is utterly unbearable.

The professor would not hear the reason that we were not informed of the change in schedule, despite our insistence of his negligence to post it on the yahoogroups, which he had been doing for virtually the whole term. He explained that if by posting a memo on the department bulletin does not constitute as an announcement, "I don't know what does." not to mention, with the cellular phone irrefutably handy and available to majority of the student population of my university, the least that our peers could do was to inform us.

Oh well.. I mentioned the whole situation to my mother who said not to bother to push our case since we've actually overlooked the fact that the bulletin posting is still an announcement. We've been too attached with technology that we have failed to acknowledge that fact and therefore, even if we make a complaint, the professor could easily escape with such an alibi.

Although I wasn't able to pass the subject, I didn't feel as bad knowing that I would have a second chance at it. I wasn't surprised either. In fact, I am excited to take the whole thing again by third term. Wish me luck then.

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Last Tuesday, I went to my girlfriend's house, without any sure ideas as to what we were going to do. After rummaging through her sister's DVD-VCD compilations, we listed a number of movies we intend to watch together when we have the time. Among the movies we considered were Father of the Bride, Eternal Sunshine of A Spotless Mind, and later on we even wanted to watch the Sex and the City series. Unfortunately, time wouldn't permit such a marathon, and thus with my insistence, we simply watched Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt's Se7en.

My aunt had endorsed the movie to me, telling me it was a really good show to watch. What took my attention really to her description of the film was the fact that she said it was morbid and awfully gruesome. With that in mind, I excitedly told my friend my desire to watch the said movie. By the end of it though I could say three things.. (1) FUCK (2) FUCK and (3) FUCK.

The first FUCK - I learned nothing but the word FUCK from Brad Pitt. He never said another effective curse other than FUCK.

The second FUCK - I was definitely disappointed. It had not matched my standards, in fact in contrast to my aunt's description, it was not gory at all. Most of the macabre scenes were "artistucally" portrayed and thus were omitted almost altogether, leaving the whole movie to be just a chain of conversation scenes, which I learned from VIDPROD, to be a drag. They did nothing but talk! Learn to shut up.

The third FUCK - I love John Doe's (the killer) script though. It was puzzling at the same time profound. Should watch the last part, its the only interesting part of the whole movie, although the manner in which he murdered his victims in the basis of the seven capital sins is really capital.

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After I left my girlfriend's house, I rode a jeepney to Morayta, since she lives in Binondo, Manila. When I reached my destination, I had the strange urge to go on an Ukay Ukay spree. It was the first time I had the sudden impulse and thus I decided to take the challenge of shopping.

When I was in the jeepney, I was rather surprised to find a thousand peso bill in my wallet, which I later found out to be slipped in there by my grandmother :D

Anyway, returning to the story at hand, it was my first time to go to an Ukay-Ukay, so I wasn't really sure as to what is in store for me. I had no idea what I will see. But contrary to the icky yucky stuff my friends and my mom had been telling me, I found the place to be a remarkably interesting place. Most of the clothes were fashionably OUT, but with some patience I found many shirts that suit my taste. Most of the gothic laced shirts though were too small for my rather "voluptious" figure, and thus had to let go of many select choices.

I walked the whole of Espana, going to the different Ukay Ukay stores that were scattered between Morayta and Welcome Rotonda. I did make a purchase though, despite my frugal tendencies when it comes to fashion. I bought a red Japanese influenced shirt which I simply adored when I first saw it. It only costed me 70 bucks, which is beyond reasonable, its almost a steal. The only thing that concerned me was the fact that it was stretchable, when my mom sees me wearing it, I am sure to hear some vulgar comments about my figure being "exposed". Oh well, u can't win 'em all. What matters though is that I am pleased with the transaction and am hopeful to make another one soon.

My mother's student has just introduced to me an Ukay-Ukay building located in Anonas, Cubao. He mentioned it was airconditioned and with enough tolerance and perseverance we could make a number of choice purchases, which immediately got my ears' attention. He also mentioned that the best day to go Ukay-Ukay is on Wednesdays. I am already making plans this Wednesday, I hope that they push through, considering the gimik schedule I have already laid out for the week.

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Yesterday I went to the bookfair in the World Trade Center with my mom and two of her students. It was heaven on Earth, and I cannot deny how crazy I went going through the books of one store to the next. I have never seen so many books in my life that I had every intention to stay the night and just as well die there. With a 500 peso budget, I cannot say how small that amount of money is. I have scanned through over a hundred books yesterday debating whether it would be the right thing to buy.

After three hours of treking the hills of mind-boggling books, I managed to buy only two books: a Rex law book about crimes punishable by law, and another from UP Publishings, Smaller and Smaller Circles. I was sad I couldn't buy the Legally Correct Fairy Tales and the Calvin and Hobbes Comics which I had been eyeing on in FullyBooked. I also saw many fashion books, Evening Gown was a creatively inclined book, which really caught my attention, unfortunately not my wallet. My eyes also caught sight of many to die for crafts and room decorating books, not to mention cookbooks! But the book which I stopped to read was Shel Silverstein's, it was an adult version of his works, and it was sexually inclined at times, although most of which are funny and satyrical. Definitely my favorite writer/illustrator. I also saw Neil Gaiman's works, although other than the one an orgmate lent me, I have never seen nor read his works, and thus couldn't relate as well with other Gaiman enthusiasts.

Funny, I noticed a book saying that it imparts new formulas of gayuma, after returning the book though, a man tapped me and said if I buy the book, in addition to its 10 percent discount, I would also be allowed free tarot readings. And I was like.. um.. no.. I dont think I have love problems at the moment, thank you..

The whole event was, in fact, breathtaking! I saw many beautiful books which are out of my league, and beyond the thrifty budget I was given. I kept thinking, if I get married, I want this in my collection and I think I may need this and this and this.. but on second thought, I am not, and what difference would it make if I am or am not? Perhaps its the stupid idea that by being married, one is given more money, but fact is, duh! NOT! Maybe when I'm working, not supporting any leeches, I would be able to furnish my library and hopefully my own personal room, if not apartment, with things which I want.

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Today is September 3, 2005
Trivia: I checked my organizer last year and today is the one year anniversary of me admitting my crush in front of a whole crowd of people not to mention him in our organization's teambuilding.

Okay, this would be my finale entry. Sometimes I feel like this is one of those mistakes which I would like to take back. I know how Ms. Universe answer it is, to say that I am completely content with my life and that I wouldn't be who I am if I didn't make such a mistake. Somehow, eventhough I belive that philosophy, on the other hand, I question how things would turn out had I not made that act. It was the first time I had done such a thing, and I remember some of orgmates suddenly putting two thumbs up at me for my "courage". Heck. Is it worth it?

I don't belive that there is such a thing as a wrong or right decision in life, and therefore perhaps its not right for me to say it was a mistake, but still, I like to think that things would be a lot different had I done something else than blurt out the truth, when I was asked.

I wish I could change the past, but I can't.. You just gotta live with it.