I have a political stand.

I could not sleep because I was thinking of it. I finished my English Story (which is, by far, the worst form of treachery I have every done---to myself.) 1:30 AM. And I'm revising the whole thing. Back to ground zero. I hate it. I hate the way I wrote about frivolous interests of friggin' teenagers when I had the chance to write something completely out of my grasp---politics. I could've written something like...

There's a wedding. The wedding is cancelled. Reason: Bride doesn't like the groom's coat, or the mother-in-law's red hair (it might be passed on to her children). Result: No happy ending for anyone.

Symbolism: You shouldn't get fucking rid of someone just because of her relationships or trivial matters that she can't attend to. The in-law couldn't dye her hair black because she fixed the stupid wedding. You should not get rid of GMA because she has a stupid and greedy husband. I have no facts, yes. I don't research, that's a given. But I have my opinion. (Which, I admit, not as strong as figures but that's besides the point.) I believe that focusing on our economy is a WHOLE lot better than fixing out political crisis. Can't we just let the government do its job? Can we not see that the more we protest for reasons we do NOT understand, the more we go down? I believe in Jun Lozada, that there is corruption in the government. THAT IS TRUE. It was never a lie. I admire Jun Lozada for speaking up. I do not like the people's reaction to it. It's EDSA 3 all over again. People over-reacting. Filipinos fighting for the "Filipinos", when in fact, said "Filipinos" are just a minority. A fucking minority playing whose strings are pulled by their authoritarian and evilly intelligent leaders.

Can't we let go, for once? And see the light.

Do we always have to criticize?

CAN WE NOT SEE THAT PEOPLE POWER SHOULD TAKE ON ITS NEW MEANING. The power to wake up the innate goodness in us. The power to transform lives. The power to live the live the friggin' WORD and transform the world. Once we're done with ourselves, THEN the country will follow. Once OUR morality is fixed, we CAN have the right to demand morality from our government. It's the pot calling the kettle black all over again.

And this was supposed to be a three-liner post, but I could not stop myself.

I wonder how it feels to BE THERE. TO EXIST IN THAT WORLD. I'm so far. I'm moving in a week to a house 2 minutes away from here. I went there last Sunday, I went to the balcony. I saw all the rice fields of Teresa. I saw the whole town. Yes. The whole town. And that's it. I love the view, but it limits me. I can learn a lot from all the workers in the field everyday, but before I can do that, I have to understand the bigger picture. Then I can start changing my ways. We're not affected by this political crisis. Who are affected? Our classmates who are sons or daughters of politicians. But me? No. I am not affected. Gia Salindong said, POLITICS is like jumping into mud, whether you like it or not, you will get dirty. However, water exists. Water exists for us to clean ourselves, to repent.

In Jesus lies the living water. Not in projects like Chico Dam. Nope. Not in the destruction of individuals who have done their best to uplift the country's economy. Not in the murder of thousands of innocent children on the street. Not the forceful demands of going back to the streets. The streets gave us nothing but a path back to ground zero. We do not want ground zero. We want UP.

GEOMETRY, HERE I COME. Or rather, ENGLISH AND HEALTH. I AM DONE WITH GEOMETRY.

Before I write my overly awsome story for English (Blah.), I'll write a letter to my forever-gone hair that I let go of yesterday. My overly long (and not to mention hard to brush) dark, dark, semi-rebonded locks. Imagine the Dekada '70 book. See its length? Multiply that by 2.5 and that's the amount of hair that's now gone from my head. Long, yeah? Now, I'm a girl with an apple head. And it's not even the nice kind of apple, it's the normal-looking apple. But I still kinda like it. It's not the hair that I want though, it's some sort of a starter. I couldn't bring myself to cut my hair like Sarah of ANTM just yet, not straight from my waist-length hair. That's suicide. Massive lock suicide. At least when I cut it in three weeks, (THAT length), I can say that I didn't cut so much of my hair and that I didn't torture it in such a sudden manner. I'll name my hair...Lemon. And just to make it believable, I'll refer to it as if it was is a person. This is my love letter.

When I was a sophomore, I experimented with hundreds (...okay, maybe just a few) hairstyles to see what fits me best. I made mistakes, disastrous mistakes. I committed mistakes that I regret up to now, but they're all learning experiences. They're learning experiences that led me to you. You who fulfilled all my girliest dreams. It didn't happen all at once. Hair-growing is tedious work. It took the whole of sophomore year and the whole of what has been my junior year to have you by my side. I decided to do all that I can to have you when I was a sophomore. I did NOT cut my hair.

So yesterday, I finally decided to let go. Let fucking go of you. I saw you on the floor. All fifteen inches or so of you. It felt good. I felt bare. I felt like I lost a part of my life that had been my identity for the whole of junior year. Then I realized all the troubles that you gave me. And then I smiled, God has planned something far greater for me. And it's not with you. It's with the overly short and incredibly posh 'do that I'll have three or four weeks from now. That is, if my mother allows me to get it. But now, I've let go of you. I smile. I don't hold my neck and look for my hair anymore. You're too hard to hold on to, and I learned to let go.

Yesterday morning, the first thing I heard was "We had the right love at the wrong time." And yes, I loved having you, styling you. But Nina's correct, it's the wrong time. I just don't have the patience to deal with brushing you every single day. Even my parents approve of me letting go of you.

Maiintindihan niyo rin yan ako, kapag naranasan niyong maputulan ng ganun kahabang buhok. AFTER spending the other parts of your life as a girl with the apple hair.

Wait, before I go, I just have to say. When Chicosci performed in boxers last night, I saw that Miggy had HOT HOT HOT (albeit gay) legs. :"> I CRUSH.

I'm soap. Soap has a polar head and a non-polar tail. Or is it vice versa? You know, I really shouldn't be forgetting my Chemistry, I still have roughly a little under a month to go till the Quarterly Exams. The Quarterly Exams, SUCH a stupid, stupid, stupid concept, I swear. Why test us of something they tested us on already (UT1, UT2, MQT, hel-lo?) And to give us FOUR tests in ONE day for two consecutive days? Not. Funny. But that's besides the point. I'm talking about soap, supposed to be anyway. Why do I always veer away from my topic? ALL the time? I guess veering away from your topic is inevitable, yet it's confusing. My train of thought passes the other railway and I'll end up seeing a dead end or a cliff at the end of the unfinished railway. Stupid engineers, or is it the government that's stupid for corrupting the money to be used to pay the engineers so that the railways may be done? Wait, wrong. Railways here are non-literal. No, train of thought is non-literal. My train of thought always go off. Moving on to my real topic. I think I am soap. On end's polar and one end's non-polar, making me bipolar. Yep, that's the main point of this paragraph, telling you that I am bipolar. (Now where did I put that straight-to-the-point APA Style hand-out that I did NOT study last night?)

Moving on, yeah. I'm pretty much bipolar. The past two or three days have been bizarre. I've been hyper in school. I don't even remember a time that I wasn't laughing or a time that I was still. I probably have ADHD, but unfortunately it wasn't diagnosed when I was a kid mainly because my parents didn't really know about ADHD, or at least they're not as familiar with it as they are now. Eitherway, no one testified that I have ADHD, so the reason for my hyperactivity is quite a mystery. I've been spending my lunch and my recess and all the time that I can with the Section 2 people...mainly because I can lie down on their floor without people staring at me for taking up their space. You see, the front of our classroom is occupied for lunch, Jana's group had claimed it ages ago. So I go to Section where there's an open area on the floor (albeit the fact that it's INSIDE the circle that LunchMates form every Lunch) where I can lie down. Cool. And they always tell me, Bianca, ang haba mo. Yeahhhh, pati buhok ko mahaba. I'm cutting it off tomorrow. I think. All off. Along with all the memories of the previous year. Lalalaaaa.

I don't understand why school makes me SO happy. Ecstatic, even. I laugh about the silliest things and I do the silliest things and even if I'm thinking of sad things for extended periods of time, I manage to not show it. My face's a remnant of our Prom theme, I guess? A MASK. Well, not really. I don't believe I'm faking happiness. I'm not that much of an actress, yo. I really AM happy. It's just that when I get home, when I'm alone and the people I usually run to when I'm alone are not there. I don't know, maybe I'm just not used to not having them there for me. But then again, they DO have their own lives and maybe I'm not part of those lives anymore and I chose the wrong people to spend a lot of my time with and they're not really worth it? I don't think so. I still think that these friends, whoever they are and whatever they're doing now, were there. There, at that time. At. That. Time. Now, I have no idea. But well, you can't force yourself to someone who don't wanna be your pal anymore, right? You have other options, take them. Hmm, nah. I'll save these friendships. I'm not quite ready to change my whole lifestyle all over again. Change my confidants? Change my habits. I don't care. I'll cry if I have to, be alone till god knows when, but I'm not running to other people. Chances are, the same things will happen, and you'll be sad all over again. Yes, yes, I know that change is the only permanent thing in this world. Geez. How many times, lord? But I still hate change. I'd rather be stuck in the eye of a hurricane forever than go outside and view the destruction said hurricane created. Vague, but yeah. True, true.

People suck, operation detachment. At least that's how Mara and Liseth phrased it. But maybe I don't want detachment? Maybe I want another sticky tape that would stick everything back into place. Liseth blurted out one day (and yes, my lovely front mate is even more random than I am and I love her for it.) Sana hindi na lang ako nakakaramdam. To which Bianca (no, not me. The OTHER Bianca, Bianca Velicaria. What IS up with my classmates? Putting Bianca beside Bianca? What?) to with Alam mo hindi maganda yung ganun. Mahirap yun. I thought: Oonga naman, paano kung hindi na lang ako nakakaramdam? Parang patay lang? Yeah, I won't be experiencing thrill and happiness, but then, I won't be experience the hurt of people leaving (or about to leave--TEPPPPPPPP). I guess it depends on what matters more to you? However, even if you choose what matters more, you really don't have a choice, like it or not, COGITO ERGO SUM. I THINK THEREFORE I AM. I AM. I AM. THEREFORE I FEEL. So scurry off evil thoughts and wish for the (fucking) best.

Let not my personal problems interfere with my relationships with others. Let not my problems with OTHERS interfere with my relationships with OTHERS still. This is a thought I must always remember. And most importantly, let not my PMS get the best of me. And believe it or not, it just did. THUS, the rambling. :)) Wrong time to mess with me, darlings. Don't. Even. Try. OR we won't be talking for weeks. Aftermath.

Aftermath. AFTER-FUCKING-MATH. Screw Geometry and that stupid problem I didn't get to answer.

Ay pota, I just have to share before I go. While talking to Angel. =)) Hahahaaaaa! By Angel:

WAHAHAHA! :)) Alabshoo Angel. We'll find our Mr. Rights. >:) Lalala. One FINE guy.