Consummatum Est

Done! And now to wait for the results.

Wish me luck.

Judgment Day

Well technically not till tomorrow, but you know what I mean.

The last time I had a comprehensive exam was around five years ago and I wasn’t even this scared then.  Tomorrow I face the people who will have my head on the chopping block.  Two of the three examiners have reassured me repeatedly that I’ll do great on the exams, but I’m not so sure.

It’s great that they have faith in me, but part of me knows that their understanding of my abilities might be grossly exaggerated. Also, I’m worried that this overwrought confidence in my capacity might lead them to draft even harder questions, to which I say: hot damn you might as well murder me now.

Everyone’s telling me that I can do it, but honestly, I feel more like a blind man clutching at straws. I seriously have no idea what I’m doing.

The thing about comprehensive exams is that they’re, well, comprehensive.  There’s no telling where the questions will be coming from, and I’m so sure that some stray missile will come from behind and send me into a coma. 

I managed to unearth most of my notes but still.  All I’ve done is read as much as I can of my old readings and hope that I’d be ready for anything.

I’m not being facetious when I say that I’m really effing scared.

If I fail this I’m screwed, and that’s that.

This is sudden death, and I sure don’t feel like dying just yet.

Too Cool for School

Now that the comprehensive exams are approximately half a month away, you can bet I’m finally making some effort to at least pass.  It’s not that I don’t care; I’m just unbelievably lazy. 

I know, I know.  

I need to pass this or else it’s another semester for me.  I can’t really emphasize just how crucial this is to my academic future.

So I finally dragged out a paper bag filled with my old notebooks and handouts and started sifting through them to see which ones I needed for the exams.  After forty-five minutes or so, there was this mountain of readings on the “To Review” pile, and I was practically tearing my hair out in sheer frustration.

These readings, that I didn’t even read the first time around, could make or break my exams.  

Now they’re all sitting there at the foot of my bed, mocking me like some ginormous pile of taunting demons.

Right now, I suppose, I officially hate my life.

**************************************

On a much more frightening note, this is what my nephew’s book in high school looks like:

 

Oh.My.God.

Nightmares

I had this pretty vivid dream of sorts last night, which doesn’t happen quite as often as it used to.  Lately, work and all things crappy have somehow conspired to give me dreamless slumber.  I don’t even feel rested anymore, so much that I fall asleep in random places the entire day.

Not that I’m narcoleptic.  Just sleepy.

So then last night, I dreamt that I was back in my old high school, except it looked nothing like it.  The walls were pristine and white, with desks reminiscent of those in UST.  All my classmates in high school were there with me and it seemed like just another ordinary day in school.

Except it isn’t, because it’s exam day.  And it’s not just any exam: it’s the make-or-break, do-or-die comprehensive exams for the Asian Center.  If I flunk this, I have to repeat the exam another semester and push thesis and graduation day further away.  So, yikes.

The exam was about to start, and my classmates started filing into a single line.  I joined them but found that I had too many things to balance in my arms.  As in real life, no one stopped to help me carry the stupid folders and boxes I was carrying. 

Then the guy in front of me turns around and offers me his arm.  I realize that it’s my pseudo-boyfriend from elementary, EQ, and he’s offering me his arm, a la wedding march.  Stupidly, I took his arm and sent the stuff I was carrying flying off.  I ignored them, and kicked the remaining boxes away, too.

With the exam impending, I found my seat (right next to his; how convenient) and started cramming like crazy.  The comprehensive exams would cover three subjects: English, Chinese Reading (Zhong He) and Chinese Language (Hua Yu).  I saw one of my classmates memorizing the Chinese character for “egg”.

I started sweating, because I just knew that I would flunk.  To hell with everything else; I haven’t read any of the assignments or notes.  I had no idea.  I was so sure that this would be the end of me, and that I would never graduate.

I woke up just before the exam started.

Now I suppose it’s all because of the upcoming comprehensive exams that I actually have to take on the 2nd week of March.  It’s the only thing standing (plus the thesis, too, of course) between me and my Masters diploma, so I suppose that explains much of the nightmare.  And weirdly enough, there are three subjects covered in the real comprehensives; the subjects in my dream were actual subjects I took in high school. 

Then again, it’s a lot more probable that panic and my lack of initiative for studying induced this rather weird dream.  I haven’t started reviewing yet, procrastinator that I am, so maybe that’s my psyche giving me a mental kick in the nuts.  

But EQ — what the fuck?  The guy figures in most of my nightmares like some sort of Freddy effing Krueger.  I haven’t seen him since high school, and I seriously don’t want to.  Come on, that was grade school, and all we did was pass notes and exchange slumbook answers.  

Maybe he’s some sort of symbol or totem.  Hmm.

Paging Dr. Freud?

Careful What You Wish For

Wishes.  Dangerous.

So yes, a few posts back I said that I wanted to go to Hawaii and I wanted them to pick me and all that bright, enthusiastic shit I ignorantly babbled about.  

Now it’s happened.

I’d given up, really, since it’s February and the thing is on the 2nd week of March.  Nobody rushes things like these.  You’ve got to give people enough time.  So I said maybe they’ve picked the participants and they just didn’t inform the sorry losers.  

But no.  

For some reason I got picked and my first instinct when I saw the email was to jump five or six times like some stupid monkey in full view of the entire 17th floor.  Or maybe just half of it.  Anyway I was so happy I couldn’t talk.  I was literally stuttering, conveying the news to my dad.

The thing is, a few minutes after the jubilation, things started sinking in.

Sending the abstract was easy.  I didn’t give it a second thought; just sent in this old abstract I had lying around my hard disk.  Now I got picked, and I’ve got to deal with … stuff.  

I’m not even worried about the paper.  I just need to update it and I’m good to go.

What I’m worried about is the logistics.  I need to get my passport renewed, get a US visa, prepare my presentation (if I get lazy enough, I’d just go at it with nothing but my grating voice), reschedule my comprehensive exams and — well, let’s see — oh yes, find enough money to get my ass over there.

They’re paying for everything, save for my plane fare.

And I don’t even know how to schedule the trip.  Hawaii is 18 hours behind us, and it takes 12 hours to get there.  Just thinking about the schedule is enough to drive me crazy.  

I’m overwhelmed, but even that’s an understatement. 

Flummoxed might be a better word, I think.

I’m so effing scared.

Flashback

There are days when I think I need someone to talk to, then I realize that no amount of explaining to other people can ever get them to fully understand me. It’s just my thing, you know. It’s my neurosis, honestly. I can’t seem to find people who … resonate.

Some days I just think I need someone who’ll understand what I need with a snap of my fingers. It’s not even sympathy. I don’t need people to fawn over me or patronize me. I think it’s wanting them to say what I need to hear and then I’ll be all better.

I can’t seem to find anyone.

But then again, maybe that’s why I blog.

See, having tons of free time at work can be a very, very, very good thing. I sometimes run out of blogs to read, so I’ve taken to reading my own past entries. I’m still half amazed that almost two years after, what I wrote then still speaks to me with the exact same rawness that I felt at that time. It’s the answer to all my drama these past few weeks. The need to forge my own path and do what I want to do — somehow this answers everything

Thinking about it now, an MA seems to be much of a hassle. Why am I doing this to myself anyway? I have a job that doesn’t require further studies, so what am I doing this for? To torture myself? To eat a chunk out of my savings?

I suppose I’m doing it for myself. Everything else I’m doing right now is for the people around me. A corporate job, check. Decent savings, check. A good sideline, check. I’m doing this not because I’m greedy and I love money. I’m doing this because one day, my father will have to retire and I have to be ready to take his place in providing for this family. I want that day to come soon, because God knows my father has worked more than his fair share in this lifetime. I’d love to have him relax for the first time in his life.

And so, this MA, it’s my gift to myself.

I’m doing this because I want to, not because I need to.

I’m not complaining. Complaining won’t get you anything anyway, plus it makes for major nega image points. It’s not that I’d rather not work in corporate, either. There are things in life that you just have to deal with. Let’s just say I’m rather ambivalent about it. My dad’s not forcing me to work to feed the family, no. But having something of a conscience has dictated that I be at least a little more concerned and less selfish when it comes to this family. Besides, I believe it’s a daughter’s natural duty to take care of her parents someday.

My MA, therefore, is a little concession I granted myself.

If I didn’t need money, I’d be a public school teacher.

Seriously. I’m not trying to go all emo and weepy sappy on this one. I don’t envision myself as a Fraulein Maria of sorts, either. Sound of Music still gives me the creeps. Jack Black in School of Rock is more like it. I don’t want to teach the kids anything grand or incredible. No opus for me, unlike Mr. Holland. I’m not good enough for all that.

All I want is to give these kids the gift of passion to believe in something. Anything.

I look at the children running all over the streets of Metro Manila and feel despair. If they had a teacher — even just one — like the teacher who inspired me to believe, I guess they’d be living for something to.

Just like I’m living for the day I get to fulfill my dream and forget the price tag. Wishful thinking, but my MA is the only thing keeping me connected to a dream that has to be put aside for now.

I may never become a teacher, and my MA could become useless along the way.

It doesn’t matter.

I’ll even take a PHD after this, if only to keep me connected to the one thing I want most: teaching. It could be a dream — even remain a dream forever.

It doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that I keep the dream alive for now, despite the distance. My MA is the only thing linking me to my real ambition and I’d rather have a shell of it than nothing at all.

And so, enrolment, and another semester.” (Ang Kagila-gilalas na Enrolment sa UP)

October 2009. Mark your calendars, kids. This is it.

Into the Home Stretch

Three years ago, I swore never to enter the the corporate world ever again.  I left my last job with sanity barely intact.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that I was pretty much completely destroyed.

Torn into shreds, even.

I began my career with high hopes, thinking that surely someone with my intellect (ahem) would fare pretty well in the “real” world.  I knew I was smart, and I certainly was determined to get to the top.  The day after graduation, I was hell-bent on taking over the world.

Alas, poor stupid idealistic child.

The corporate world I found was pretty much hell on earth.  A boss I deemed too stupid to even shine my shoes ordered me to carry his querida’s luggage so they could hold hands while walking.  I, who graduated magna cum laude?

For shame!

And so I said goodbye.  I left the corporate world and sought solace in the only thing I could understand, control and excel in: the academe.

I went back to school three years ago.

Three years.

It’s been a long time since then, and though I still hate my ex-bosses with a vengeance, I’ve since returned to the corporate world.  I’m working 9-to-6 and it’s been pretty good this time.

I did continue my studies, though, and now I’m in the last leg.

This is the final lap, and it sure as hell won’t be easy.  I still have to get through a grueling comprehensive exam and a thesis, so everything’s still up in the air.

School hasn’t been easy.  I’m a bit tired, in fact.

But this, this is really is it.

Wish me luck.

Happy Happy Talky Talk

As you may have noticed by now, I’m not exactly adept at small talk.

And by “adept”, of course, I mean “extremely incapable, bordering on paralysis”.

That’s precisely the reason why I’m always late for class. Part of it is laziness, too, of course, and the occasional traffic jam (I drive to UP, ergo I’m an ass), but I’m really trying to avoid something that happens whenever the professor isn’t in the classroom and the students are left to their own devices. At some point in this lull, someone is bound to turn to me and talk.

There’s a reason why I always sit alone in the back of the class, you know. It’s precisely because I try to avoid human contact as much as possible, and sitting next to a dust-covered desk with unidentified paraphernalia is my preferred way of escaping any attempts at inane chitchat.

Last week, some classmate tried to engage me in this boring ass pastime, asking me a bunch of questions I knew she didn’t really care to ask. Which brings me to my point. What the hell is wrong with you people? If you’re not actually interested in what you’re asking, why ask at all?

By the way, classmate, if you happen to be reading this (and I know you aren’t, borderline illiterate person), please do not attempt to chat me up about anything written here. Please. Otherwise I will be forced to commit suicide by eating myself from the feet up. With no ketchup.

My friend Joel calls it my neurosis, which it probably is, but I’m actually being logical here. What is the point of subjecting ourselves to such inanities?

Forced with characters unwilling to respect my need for catatonic episodes, I either respond with senseless, rambling answers or incoherent grunts. I do realize that responding is non-optional social convention (yes, I am obsessed with The Big Bang Theory, and I will continue quoting dialog from the show for as long as I like), so I do make an effort at the very least. I can’t give humanly decent answers, though, so people eventually look at me funny and find someone else to torment with their pointless chatter.

It’s not that I don’t speak to people at all. I do, but only if I like them, which is sort of rare. Otherwise, it’s just me either clamming up or continuously spouting nonsense in barely recognizable sentences.

So well, yeah, that’s it.

Must. Sleep. Now.

**EDIT**

My legs have been reduced to painful mush after walking the entire length from our office to Glorietta.

Fuck. That. Shit.

I’m The Girl in The Pseudo-Intellectual Glasses

Or at least I was planning to be.

On the way to the Asian Center this morning I made sure that I had my geeky glasses with me as always. I have horrible astigmatism and really poor eyesight. Sure, I can see the food on my plate, but reading gets horrendously painful without glasses.

So what exactly was I doing in UP if I’m officially on leave from school?

Boring old me got invited to speak at the UPAC 3rd Graduate Students’ Conference and I, of course, took the bait willingly. My professor bullied me (sort of) into sending in a copy of a paper I had previously written and I got chosen to present. Or maybe they just didn’t have enough presenters.

In any case, I did present my paper, entitled “China’s Soft Power Diplomacy and its Impact on Sino-Japanese Relations”, which can realistically be summarized in layman’s terms as what the fuck are you actually trying to say you stupid boring geek. In the rush to get up to the podium and appear somewhat cool (fumbling around with my ginormous bag in search of my glasses is NOT cool), I didn’t get to wear my glasses and of course had to squint for the duration of the paper.

I didn’t have any powerpoint presentation, unlike all the other presenters, and I was the first presenter, too. I was actually half-expecting people to beat me up mid-speech because of my incredible geekiness, but gladly nobody did. Halfway through the paper, though, I was really, really itching to jump a couple of pages just to get it over with. It’s a wonder I didn’t keel over and die of boredom from my own paper.

Or maybe I’m exaggerating, because the response was more than a bit overwhelming. People were actually asking me to polish the paper and have it published — or something. I have no idea. Anyway, I think I did do better this time because at least I didn’t have a coughing attack in the middle of reading my paper.

In the course of performing my duties as presenter, I realized two things. First, I’m corny. Which is not new, really, as I have weird humor that only Michelle gets, I think. Anyway, this was totally confirmed this morning, when I introduced my paper-reading prowess with a disclaimer: “I hope I don’t bore you all to death”. Which is not really a joke, now that I think about it. People may have actually viewed it as a genocidal threat. Hence they did not laugh.

Second: people can be stupid, particularly while attempting to look smart. One girl made several comments about my paper during the open forum and I just knew she didn’t really hear my paper presentation. How do I know that? No, I’m not psychic. Her question was precisely the thesis of my paper, and the answer to her questions were the very body of my paper. I infer she made a question out of the title of my paper, which she would so conveniently find in the program, along with my name. So word to the not-so-wise: when trying to appear smart, make sure you actually know something so you don’t look like you have enough space to harbor squatters between your ears.

And oh, maybe it’s not a very good thing to question my intelligence in an open forum. Just saying.

Anyway, I won’t be attending the closing ceremonies tomorrow, mainly because it’s a Saturday and I’m lazy. Certificates will be handed out and an award for the Best Speaker will be given, but I won’t be there. Because I’m lazy. And it’s a Saturday. Besides, I know I won’t win and I don’t really need the certificate. The warm fuzzy feeling of having tortured people for over 15 minutes of continuous droning was fun enough.

****************************************
In other news: I am obsessed with David Anders, a.k.a. Takezo Kensei of Heroes. Nothing about it. Just saying.

****************************************
Mike, if you don’t get it, you can always e-mail me. I’ll make a dissertation out of this blog post for you.

****************************************

Update: Can you believe I actually won?

School is a Battlefield

I have no idea why it has to be such a big deal.

Apparently, there’s the photo of supposed Salinggawi members going around online. It’s not a very nice photo, considering the guys are making loser signs beside the word “UP”. Personally, though, I don’t think it merits more than a paragraph in my blog.

The cheerleading defeat really broke many Thomasian hearts. We might be bitter about it, but what then? We can bitch, not because it’s appropriate, but because it’s normal. I’m sure more than a few UP people were bitching as well in the five years that UST held the cheerleading crown.

Honestly, I don’t see the point of over-the-top school rivalry. Go online and seek out some university-bashing threads to see what I mean. They’re not particularly hard to find. I understand how people can be so protective and defensive of their alma mater; I’m a solid Thomasian myself. It’s just so incredibly retarded that people will fuel their arguments with stupid ideas that ironically say more about their schools than the one they’re bashing.

UST is a frequent target, and coming across threads that bash my school makes me gag. UP kids (or those who pretend to be from UP; you really can’t tell when you’re online) seem particularly allergic to us. Their willingness to align themselves with Ateneo is particularly laughable. Is it because they see themselves as the only intelligent beings in the Philippines?

There’s this fanfic, by the way, that pits UST against Ateneo in a Deathly Hallows parody. Why does UST have to be the villain, though? Is it because we kicked Ateneo’s basketball ass last season?

Kidding. I actually like Ateneo. I think it’s a great school just like UP and UST. I won’t argue about academic rankings. I know UST has its weaknesses, and UP and Ateneo probably have their shortcomings, too. Truth be told, nearly all universities are cool with me, save for one that I’d rather not mention. The School-That-Must-Not-Be-Named (the one whose cheerleaders can’t spell), I dislike, primarily because it’s run more like a corporation rather than an academic institution. Nothing personal.

My point is, you really don’t need to put another school down to pull yourself up. I love my alma mater, but it doesn’t stop me from respecting the other schools in the country.

Besides, all this school-bashing really is tremendously retarded. Kids (I mean all of you who participate in illogical and grammatically-incorrect online school bashing), when you finally join the workforce and get to work your asses off to pay the bills, you’ll know what I mean. When you find yourself working for a boss whose from a university you deem “less worthy”, what would you do? Cry yourselves to sleep?

That sure seems like the mature thing to do.

Here’s a suggestion to all who insist on bashing other universities: go to sleep early so you can grow a few inches taller and maybe save what’s left of your brain cells.

********************************************
PS: In case anyone’s wondering (and this is the often the rebuttal in school-vs.-school threads), I did pass the entrance exams of Ateneo and the School-That-Must-Not-Be-Named. I didn’t take the UPCAT, but I am taking my Masters in UP.

PPS: I haven’t read the Deathly Hallows parody completely. It does seem like a pretty decent fanfic, and it’s the author’s right to pick who he/she wants to star as Ateneo’s antagonist. I just thought it was funny that some people in the Peyups LJ community thought it was *grrrreat* that UP was Ateneo’s ally against UST and the School-That-Must-Not-Be-Named. Now that’s hilarious.