I’m thinking I won’t be writing about anything political in a long time.

I rarely write about this [insert profanity of choice here] government anyway, unless it’s tax season.  It’s just that when I wrote something a bit controversial this week, I got a few very serious answers that I wasn’t really ready for.  I know blogging opens you up to serious discussion, but back up a bit kids.

Why so serious?

Well I did get good and friendly answers that made me think.  The only problem is that I’m not in a very good mood for thinking.  My brain has been mush these past few days.

I’m not blaming the commenters, okay.  Just making that clear.

It’s just that I’m not really in the mood for seriousness, and lest I be mistaken for a serious blogger, I aim to blog mostly about worthwhile issues such as Wu Chun’s gayness from now on.

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 have been frothing at the mouth over my excess weight these past two years (thanks to constant eating in the office) yet I never really did anything about it.

I know that pills can’t really help you lose weight, but I was — and still am — such a sloth I couldn’t motivate myself to exercise. My only physical activity consists of manually turning the television set on and off, and occasional beer-lifting. And oh, I do take the stairs on MRT stations, but not always. Seldom is more like it.

Anyway, these past few weeks, I’ve been in less than perfect health. Two weeks back (I think) it was hyperacidity that stole my long weekend from me. I couldn’t do anything. I was practically bedridden, since any movement had me doubling over. I couldn’t eat even though I was horribly hungry, thanks to a really shot digestive system. That’s what a combination of not eating on time, spicy foods and coffee can do to you.

Then this week I somehow got infected with a roving virus that has effects similar to those of Xenical. I’m not going to elaborate.

So, since my digestive system is shot and I nearly died of dehydration, I somehow feel a bit lighter (and light-headed). It’s not a great feeling, being sick, but now that I’m a little better, I sort of feel less bloated than I’ve been these past few years.

I can’t eat much, ever since the hyperacidity episode, and I suppose I may actually have stomach ulcers that go into overdrive every meal time. Now I can only eat half a cup of rice. More and I’ll suffer the rest of the day. When I get hungry in between meals, I raid my stash of Milo and skyflakes.

And oh, I’ve somehow managed to wean myself off coffee.

The way I see it, I’d rather minimize my intake now than be forced to quit coffee forever. Hopefully, I’ll be able to fix my digestive system with constant Xantac-popping. Hopefully.

The good thing about this is that I lost a grand total of five pounds in two weeks. From 122lbs, I’m now down to 117lbs — just 7lbs heavier than my high school weight.

That’s without any exercise at all. Usually, though, the pounds return right after. This time, however, I think things will change. I’m not saying I’ll exercise. My Hip-Hop Abs video is gathering dust on a shelf. I’m just saying I have no choice.

I still can’t go beyond a few bites without getting a bloatey feeling, so I can’t eat a lot. Maximum of half-cup rice per meal, or even less. Otherwise, I’ll be clutching my midsection the entire day. Since I can’t eat much, there won’t be as many unburned calories stocked in my body, right?

That means I won’t need to exercise, and still I’ll lose weight.

It’s my involuntary diet.

I was supposed to write about television — one of the biggest influences in my life — when my dad came in and started ranting about my mom.

I love my dad; in fact, I love my family. It just sucks a lot that the entire clan’s (maternal side) weird and dysfunctional. And when I say “weird and dysfunctional”, I don’t mean that in a cute way. I’m saying we’re all really somehow damaged emotionally or mentally, and that’s not even the entirety of it.

As my maternal grandmother used to say, she went a little crazy back when she was younger, after four of her kids died consecutively. Ergo, when she gave birth to the rest of her kids, they all came out a little funny in the head. It’s the secret family recipe.

In case you’re wondering, none of us has ever been committed to the asylum. We’re pretty good at hiding our “flaws”. I’m no better than the rest of my family really, having been diagnosed by my younger sister (who’s taking up BS Psychology) with Obsessive Compulsive disorder. I can’t stop fixing Rubik’s cubes, checking the refrigerator door, cleaning my ears and rearranging tables in MS Excel.

Most of the family’s been sent to a popular psychiatrist in this country, and the joke’s that he has an entire filing cabinet dedicated to the clan alone.

We’re a little like a sitcom, a little like Arrested Development, except we never had the money to begin with. Everyone’s got a bit of a quirk. Everyone’s weird and unexplainable and not always acceptable in polite company. Even the best of us are slight nuts. The Addams Family would’ve skulked away in shame.

I’d rather not go into length about the family’s weirdness. That would be tantamount to treason. Let’s just say we drive each other crazy, and not always in a good way.

Maybe someone should make a movie out of this.

I don’t care if you’re a family man. I don’t care if you’re a loving father.

So what if studies showed that death isn’t a deterrent for crime?

Who cares if it tramples human rights?

Bring back the death penalty.

No uniformed asshole should ever have the right to torture and murder a 20-year-old for no reason and walk away alive.

Injury requits fucking justice.

Who would want to be married after seeing you two?

Sims 2. It’s the only thing standing between me and my Macbook.

Future (hopefully) Macbook, that is. I just learned that there’s now a Macbook that’s, well, somewhat within my monetary range — if I skip eating and buying clothes for a year, that is.

I’ve always been in love with Apple products. I’m an iPod user, regardless of whatever people say about it. I know, I know — Creative Zen has cheaper yet just as good mp3 players. But how do I put this? I don’t care. At all.

I don’t really get logical when it comes to Apple products. I’ve heard it a thousand times before from the tech guru of our team (that’s you, Mike) — a Macbook isn’t really necessary when compared to an ordinary Windows-based PC that does just as well. And he’s right. Windows is near universal. Everybody knows what to do with it, plus I’m already comfortable working with my favorite applications in Windows.

Moving to Mac would be just like suicide.

But I want a Macbook. There’s no decent reason. Maybe because Macbooks look hot. Maybe because House has a Mac (interesting side note: externally, House’s laptop has an Apple logo, but when the camera turns to show the laptop screen, it clearly says Dell…hmm).

I have no good reason.

Unfortunately, reason is a rather significant factor in making decisions like this. A Macbook’s probably more expensive than my body and soul combined. It’s a rather expensive joke, I think, that I can’t afford to crack.

The only thing that’s keeping me from fully converting to Mac is Sims 2. Keets, my beloved and trusty laptop of nearly three years, lets me play the game for hours on end, even if the graphics do freeze some times.

If I can’t play Sims 2, there’s no point in having a laptop (so I can’t work and earn extra from my sidelines, I don’t care).

My head hurts from all this thinking.

************************************************
In other news, I think it’s finally over. The worst has passed. I know, I’m practically overreacting. I’m just not used to having people notice me, so I really didn’t know what to do. Now, though, everything seems to be back to normal and frankly, I’m glad.