Monthly Archives: April 2014

Question of the Day #2

Will I ever truly mature mentally?

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“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”

Terry Pratchett

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Holy Shit

Holy Shit

Holy Week pretty much went by more quickly than most weeks I had to go through, probably because I slept through most of it. The first half, though, comprised of our Computer Engineering seniors’ two-day field trip to a lot of places in mostly Central Luzon, which I really can’t recall that well anymore since it has already been days since it happened. Still, I had a great time. It’s the last time my colleagues and I can hang out like that as students.

But what really kept bugging my mind this week is holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. And by that, I mean, “Holy shit, I’m gonna graduate.”

I mean, can you imagine me, Ram, the loudmouthed, brutally frank, poor excuse of a human being, going out and being an engineer and even aspiring to study law? Goddamn. I am in way over my head. I jacked off all throughout college and now they’re letting me leave. I can’t imagine doing anything else other than smoke, insult people, crack dirty jokes and just basically slack off. Well, that’s actually what I did during my internship and that worked pretty well for me.

But I just can’t believe it. Holy shit. If all goes well, I’m gonna graduate, and I’m so scared and excited at the same time. I honestly have no idea what’s in store for me next, but I know I can jack off through it again. And I just can’t think of anything to say but, well…

Holy shit.

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Nicotine by Panic! At the Disco

Just one more hit and then we’re through
‘Cause you could never love me back
Cut every tie I have to you
‘Cause your love’s a fucking drag
But I need it so bad
Your love’s a fucking drag
But I need it so bad

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Question of the Day #1

Why is it so easy to give other people advice when you can’t follow your own?

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Payday Saturday

Let me just take a moment to congratulate two of my best buddies Niña and Lhoyd for basically winning the day and passing their oral thesis defense for this trimester. After witnessing the amount of worked you’ve poured into all of it, it was so amazing to see you get what you deserve. I have never really seen you so happy. In fact, it was contagious. Also, I thought you were so fucking happy that you were gonna shit your pants. No words can possibly describe how much I’m proud of you guys. Well, actually I have two words: fucking proud. 

I can’t wait to see you guys kill it next trimester and win for the second time. I’m with you all the way. I believe in you as much as I believe that someday Niña’s gonna put up her own coffee shop and call it StarNin.

Also, thanks for the pizza. I totally stuffed my face. Goddamn, I can already feel the shitload of shit that’s gonna come tomorrow morning. I was so fucking full I took off my shorts today at school because it felt like my stomach was going to explode. But hey, nothing spells victory better than fucking pizza. Pizza is awesome. You guys are awesome. I love pizza. I love you guys too. But not as much as I love pizza.

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Professors and Snowflakes

Are you familiar with the saying, “No two snowflakes are exactly alike?” Now, while this theory has already been proven wrong multiple times in the past few decades, I still insist on using this statement to prove the point that I’m about to make. You see, if there’s one thing I hate more than having an asshole as a professor, it’s when that professor also applies the same fuckery with his co-workers, and even meddles with the way they do their work. This has been done by that same professor plenty of times this trimester, and I must say, it’s getting pretty irritating to say the least. But I will not elaborate on that subject any more than I already have, because this blog is intended for fun, as much as possible, and the idea of him isn’t really that much fun.

What I just want you to understand is that just like there are no two identical snowflakes, there are also no identical ways of teaching. Each professor has his own way of dropping knowledge onto the pack of idiots that are his students, and each professor has the right to that. So unless one professor is being unreasonably douchey and all of his students are fucking complaining about him already, nobody else has the right to tell him what he can and can’t do with the way he teaches as well as the way he handles his students. He has the right to teach his students any we he wants to as long as he delivers his lessons clearly. I mean, have you seen a snowflake telling another goddamn snowflake that it looks ugly and it should get a face-lift just because it doesn’t look like the first snowflake? No. Because not only is that rude, it also doesn’t make any sense. Snowflakes can’t talk. They can’t have face-lifts, and they can’t look ugly. Seriously, I have never really seen an ugly snowflake.

But my point is that teaching is like living. And we can’t tell professors how to teach the same way we can’t tell people how to live their lives, because it’s their lives, and they have the right to it. And even if we did decide to do what you ask, like snowflakes, no matter how much we try to imitate something, we can never completely do so because we’d still have something in us that makes us different. It also goes for teaching. It’s a way of life, and telling someone to change the way they live their life is like asking them to pound their balls with a hammer. No one wants to do it. Bottom line. Just mind your own goddamn business.

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If a Bro asks another Bro to keep a secret, he shall take that secret to his grave and beyond if the Bro discovers there is indeed life after death. This is what makes them Bros, not chicks.

Barney Stinson, The Bro Code

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Segment Introduction: Stories I Plan On Telling My Kids

Segment Introduction: Stories I Plan On Telling My Kids

Let me introduce you to one of the things you’ll be seeing on this blog on a regular basis: Stories I Plan On Telling My Kids, and I suppose that no longer needs an explanation. Because if you’re already familiar with the recently concluded TV show, How I Met Your Mother, then you’re also familiar with the many stories Ted has told his children.

Now, I’m only twenty and I really don’t plan on having any kids any time soon, but I just figured that a lot of awesome things have already happened, and I want to write them down so I can never forget them, and eventually I can tell them to my kids in the future, no matter how petty or life-changing, because isn’t that the point? I know this sounds a little crazy, but I believe I have a shitload of stories that are worth telling.

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