freedom from hell.
written: 8:45 p.m. on Monday, Nov. 10, 2003

Yes, the comma is supposed to be there. Go figure it out.

So my presentation was bloody shabby and I kept stumbling over words as it was eight bloody a.m., and I was tired and sleepy and I couldn't really give a shit, but I don't really care. It's only ten percent of the score to enter a local university and I'm not entering a local uni so, to reiterate, I don't give a shit. If I didn't have such responsible group members I think I wouldn't even show up, let alone have anything to present today. The question and answer bit was terribly vexing though. My group mate Sam got such an easy question! She was asked on the causes that she feels strongly about enough to um, campaign for (somehow, that sentence came out funny).

I mean, duh, if I were asked that question I don't think my stupid brain would've blanked on me halfway through my semi-speech and left me with nothing but, "So um... 'cause yeah, parents are... our plan would help youths to, um, yeah, so... uh...."

That's precisely what happened to me halfway through my attempt to anser the stupid question that I was posed. The teacher asked me how would I go about overcoming stereotypes that conservative parents have of drug addicts.

(At this point I think I should explain that my group's project is based on the hippie generation, and that we came up with a really dumb plan to let teenagers to camp at drug rehab centres for like, five days so that they would be deterred from taking drugs. Yeah, bleeding right. Oh well.)

I heard the question and mentally went, "Oh shit." I think it showed on my face too. But the thing is, I started out really good. Rather fluent, confident, etc. Halfway through my brains decided to blank on me and I forgot what I wanted to say.

This happens to me a lot which is why I hate presenting things in front of an audience. They expect me to deliver, expect me to entertain, and I just can't. I hate doing verbal things. I wrote a semi-essay for my presentation script, and I realised that it's next to impossible to deliver an essay by speech. With writing it's different. I'm doing it for myself, at my own pace, without an annoying audience expecting me to deliver what I can't, instantaneously. It's less pressuring, intimidating.

But I've always wanted to conquer the art of orating (?). Truth be told, I have this mild speech problem. I kinda ramble sometimes, stumble over words, speak too fast. I can't help it. I think it's in-born.

Here's my theory. Because my folks are related by blood, there has bound to be some deficit in me and my bro. I think I'm okay as a whole, save for some emotional and mental handicaps that are, unfortunately, inevitable. I mean, I'm no genius (honestly) but I'm smart enough. My superficial appearance can pass for "nice" on a good day. And I'm not overweight, strickened with a disease, whatever.

Given all that, something has got to give. And I think that 'something' is my ability to speak like a normal human being.

And I hate it. I really do. It may very well account for the fact that I don't talk too much, as sometimes I can't be bothered to repeat myself, to make myself understood.

Oh well.

Anyway, went to town with Mel, met up with this guy, her friend and later on, mine too, over there. I'll call him "Phyco". Mel would know the reason.

So yeah. We walked around. Wanted to watch a movie but there was nothing good showing.

At this surf shop at Pacific Plaza three teenagers in white shirts and dark pants/skirt walked into the store. Two guys, a girl. The two guys had their hair dyed brownish blonde, didn't really notice the girl.

One of the guys looked quite a bit like my ex-boyfriend, the very first one. The height was similar, as was the attitude, the hair, the nose, the eyes.

Still, my ex is a lot more good-looking than the punk in the store.

Although I can't say I was very glad to take that brief trip down the unwanted memory lane.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010