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.

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.

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.

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

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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.

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.

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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.

I sort of think my first attempt at actually teaching was a flop.

So I had this teaching demo at Reedley the other day, with my high school classmate grading me, no less. We weren’t particularly close in high school, but, if I remember correctly, we were sort of okay. She looked like she’d mellowed a bit, by the way, as I remember her being a bit on the brash side in high school.

Not really the point, though, so forgive the rambling.

It turns out I need a freaking license to teach, which I can’t because I’m not Filipino. It’s the same reason I can’t be a doctor (which was the initial plan) and I can’t be a diplomat.

It’s more than a bit discouraging, because I was really psyched to finally teach. Granted, the salary leaves much to be desired, but I really did think that this could’ve been my chance.

I’ve been trying to teach at UST for the longest time; it’s the reason why I’m taking my Masters, by the way. I can’t wait to face a roomful of hostile teenagers hell-bent on laughing at my pronunciation or my clothes or my hair. I want to teach, and that’s that.

But I can’t.

Maybe Mick was right. You can’t always get what you want.

Then again: If you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.

What I need, though, is a freaking school that doesn’t require a teaching license. And maybe some alcohol to calm me down.

Went to my first Parangal sa Mag-aaral today, lured by some promise of prestige and honor, only to find out that the university hands out rolled up bond paper to its esteemed students. The entire thing made me feel like some sort of graduate, especially since the rolled-up thing resembles what schools give out on graduation day.

Whining about the exercise, though, seems a little ungrateful, considering people took time to honor someone like me.

I did find ways to amuse myself, particularly by taking note of the wonderful names people have. Disclaimer: I have no idea who these people are, I bear no grudges against them and if they’re interested, they can make fun of my name, too. I’m willing to take on as much as I dish out, so it’s all good.

I realized that some parents can be rather inconsiderate — or rather batty — when naming their kids. I, for one, would gladly name my son-to-be Yang Di Pertuan Agong, which is Malay for O Supreme Ruler of this Sorry Ass Planet. Or something.

Some of the interesting names I heard today (at least those I can remember):
- Bonaparte (yes, first name)
- Pacino (still a first name)
- Voltaire (2 of them!)

But this one takes the cake: Israel Jordan Samson. Somehow, you just know the guy’s God’s chosen one.

In the spirit of Christmas, I suppose it’s time to just swallow my pride and spit it all out.

I never really cared much for the people in my high school barkada. They’re my friends, yes, that’s a given, but for much of my life they’ve been monuments of my not so great high school life rather than actual people I love.

Which could probably explain why I haven’t made much of an effort to see them as often as they want, only meeting them whenever it was “convenient”. I jumped in and out of their lives whenever I felt like it, each time thinking that I wasn’t really missing anything. One friend actually explained my absence to a clueless boyfriend by saying that I had been an OFW in Dubai.

Come to think of it, I barely know anything about these so-called friends of mine.

Rare meetings serve as some sort of catch-up point for me, where I receive updates of their lives thus far. The updates are always miles long because I’m never around, I’m never the friend to call – much more like a totem than an actual friend at all.

The point, though, is that I’ve never really given them much thought. They’ve always been just there. I never figured them for anything more than people from my high school that I’ve known all my life – except that I never really knew them at all.

Thus far it’s all been rather superficial. Shared memories, but nothing more.

Except that a few days ago I realized we had much more in common than I gave them credit for.

I’ve been living my life thinking that no one could understand me exactly. Hell, not even my sisters get me. At 23, I still have so much unreleased angst that I’ve taken to concealing and – at times – blogging it just to stay as sane as possible. A few hours of talking and non-stop eating, though, made me realize that I’ve had the people I needed all my life, except that I was too stupid to realize it. I was looking too far forward to realize that I didn’t have to be all ronin and that I had actual human friends.

They’ve been with me all the time, but I’ve been such an ass that it took me four years of college and two years more to get it. All along they’ve been my friends, except that I wasn’t a friend enough to see it.

Yes, sheer stupidity.

I know this isn’t much of an apology, or much of anything at all for that matter. In any case, at least I’ve grown some sort of brain this Christmas to realize that there are people I owe friendship to.

I’m not trying to be melodramatic this Christmas.

Just stating the facts, ma’am.