Report Card

Sometimes I wonder why am I this miserable. I keep saying and declaring that I am a happy person, but really I am not. I have had bazillion internal monologues about how stupid, awkward, horrible things are turning out for me. And now that 2011 has come to an end a report card is due to remind me that last year didn't tremendously suck.

I’m surviving college!

Yes, this is exactly why my mom is so proud of her dear daughter. I am surviving college and because I'm still on the run for the magna cum laude status, my ass is so gonna be worn out for the next year just to maintain the grade. I can't count the sacrifices and compromises I have had in order to be on this track, but this is only half the battle. I have placed my TV watching in the backseat, buried my nudge on my sweet-smelling volumes and split my brains in half just to justify that 'nauseated' and 'nauseous' are two totally different entities. I have spent days not eating or taking a bath because early this morning I opened a book so beguiling, I forgot to live my very own life. I have risked my life on a Jurassic world, totally missing out on popular culture and what's hot. But winning four national awards is the best thing that happened in the past year.

Reproductive Report Card, 2011

Unlike other girls my age who are quite immersed in satisfying their innermost urges and desires and ending up aborting what's impregnated on their uteri, my very own reproduction prospects are grimmer than ever. What do you expect? "My complete lack of allure already shot that horse in the face." But, no, I'm not asking for it. Hahaha.

Breaking: A Guy Asked Me Out (Twice)!

In Some-month 2011, I went on a date with one guy, a schoolmate, of average intelligence (though he possessed an unfortunately subpar understanding of how to wear heels). We went to McDonald's where he ordered French fries and and Sundae, and the whole night was spent on his lamentation of his last relationship and life story without any context or warning. At the end of the date, we almost engaged in some unseemly PDA. To my great surprise, he called me for a second date — a gesture so grand in its romanticism that I got totally freaked out and flaked on our second outing. I mean, anyone who would ask me out twice clearly has a few screws loose.

Is There Any Hope I’ll have a Second Chance in Romance?

Like the song Little Romance by Ingrid Michaelson, I am definitely in the mood for some little romance, but what the hell, When Will it be Me by Yameen is the perfect song for such a situation right now.

I was hoping to share some poignant stories with you all -you know, something. But I live a modest life, bland and singular. This will have to do.

Till next year!