Today, I played Dodge the Roommate. Usually, I get the room all to myself because she always goes out but today she was here and I'm not comfortable being in the same room as her. So I walked around the campus a bit armed with my phone calling people. The campus is pretty nice during the weekend. There aren't any smokers blowing toxic gases into your face when you're rushing off to class. Really, of all the living species on this planet, the human race has to be the most idiotic. Why would you willingly suck poisonous gases into your own lungs? That's disgusting. That's gross. That's stupid. Anyway, it was pretty calming walking around the empty campus. I thought it would be kind of dangerous since there would be no one around if you were in trouble. But no, there's people around so it's pretty safe.

Xab called me today after he was driving his grandma around. He told me that she said that I must really love him and that she likes me a lot. That's such a nice pleasant feeling. It just makes me want to grin. It's not that everyone disapproves of our relationship but it doesn't seem like anyone actually approves of it. The people that know are pretty neutral about it. The people that wouldn't be neutral or approving, just don't know. It's just a nice feeling knowing someone approves of you being with someone close to them, like your grandson.

My parents know about us. Ironically, my closest friends don't. Why? I have to admit that I broke Xab's heart one too many times. About three times to be exact. And they don't want me doing it again. I don't want me doing it again, which was I didn't want to go back. Who knows if I'll get scared and leave again? I figured that if I keep wondering about the past and worrying about mistakes I might make in the future, I'm not going to enjoy what I have now. That's why they don't know. They're going to remind of those things I've done and things I might do.

I'm a big nerd that once subscribed to Smithsonian magazine. (It was on sale, and heck it was pretty interesting) Anyway, one of the things that I discovered in one of those magazines was this sculpture, Sphinx Mysterieux, by Charles van der Stappen. I just thought I'd throw in a picture of it since it's one of my favorite pieces of art. I've never actually seen it but one day, one day. Xab said it reminds him of Michelangelo's Pieta, which is also one of my favorites. They're both so serene. 

I'll just blog while I'm waiting for my next class to come by. I had a rude awakening today. It was a knock on the door. Usually, when I get a knock on the door it's because my neighbors are annoyed with something me or my roommate are doing. Like, I would be bouncing a ball on my desk. Most of the time they had to knock because my roommate and her friends were screaming and laughing like hyenas. Anyway, it was six in the AM when my roommate's CD alarm clock went off blasting Korean pop/rap. I paid no mind to it, since it usually takes her about an hour to turn the damn thing off. I thought it was loud but I just attributed that to my imagination. Then my neighbor comes knocking at the door. I turn around to see that my roommate was never in the room and that she probably forgot to turn off her alarm. Great. But I guess she knows it's not my fault.

I was thinking about my brother and his not-so-good academic career and I think I figured out why grade school kids have so many problems. School teachers venerate too highly their 'smart', top students. They're always praising their genius students with perfect handwriting and really not doing much for their problems students. It's like social immobility. In some societies, you can't move from a peasant to upper-class or even middle class. It's the same in a classroom. Some teachers act like students just can't improve. They're forever destined to dwell in the D or F percentage of the student population while students who are just 'naturally brilliant' have it easy. Seriously, just watch the perfect kid stroll into class forgetting his or her homework. The teacher will probably let them go even without a warning. An average kid, though? Nooo, detention. I'm pretty sure that's why some at-risk children just don't care anymore. They figured out that teachers don't want to spend time on them so they're just forgotten.

I used to be one of those kids. In the fifth grade, the teacher divided the class into the A section and the B section. He thought we were probably too dumb to realize that it was 'the smart section' and 'the dumb section.' I was put into the dumb section to my dismay but the other 'dumb' kids told me to enjoy it because the smart kids had harder work and we would have it easy. My entire elementary school life was like that. I was always surrounded by elitists and the misfit kids. Of course, I got along more with the misfit kids and they were more interesting to play with since they weren't already talking about boyfriends or gossip. After all those school conferences with my mom, I guess she came to the conclusion that I was another average idiot. She really didn't care about my grades just so long as I learned what I was supposed to and pass every grade. Sure, that doesn't sound like the best parenting but I think I liked it since my grades wasn't the first thing she cared about it.

Anyway, I guess things change in high school. Teachers don't seem to care much if average joe or the valedictorian came down with the stomach flu. Sure, there's still favoritism but it isn't as bad. That's when I realized that there really isn't anything like the perfect kid or average joe. You just had to try. And the students who got by with kissing up and acting smart found that those tactics didn't work in getting straight A's anymore and the students of the peasant class, if they realized what I realized started doing better. But it's kind of sad how some students just stick to their same habits even though they have more opportunities to prove themselves.

I hear things like this from my brother. He talks about so-and-so and how "he's really smart." So he learned how to read when he was two. Big deal, brother. You're in the same seventh grade as he is. Now, I'm not criticizing all teachers. I think teachers don't get paid enough for the stress that they have to go through. I know a few teachers who are very dedicated to students and wonder why, with all their talent and abilities, they don't do something else. I just think that favoritism really does have a big impact on students.

I just came back from watching a free screening of The Mothman Prophecies. That movie freaked me out. I'm not sure if that was suppose to be a scary movie. It was pretty suspenseful. For me, it passes as a scary movie. It's not like one of those scary movies that are just full of blood and gore. It was those movies that got to your mind and twisted around your emotions.

Anyway, enough about that. If I keep thinking about that movie with my overactive imagination, I jump at anything that moves. I'm kind of glad that my neighbors are out in the hallway, talking and studying. Usually, I would be annoyed that they're so loud at 11 in the PM, but I've gotten used to it and even appreciate it since my dorm room is always quiet and empty.

My mom was suppose to be going to the Philippines in about a month but she's having some problems with her dictator sister who she calls Hitler II, the first being my grandmother. I'm starting to wonder if I'm the III. Anyway, she was planning on going during the summer instead of tagging along with her sister and she asked if I wanted to come. I wanted to go. That would have been interesting. Seeing relatives and going to another country for a while. It's kind of weird how I live fifteen miles away from another country but I never go. Now, I could go back over the ocean again. But maybe next year my mom said.

I'm back at school, trying to write a paper about Mexican caste paintings. Yeah, I have no idea either. Anyway, everything in my house seems back to normal and normal isn't really the best thing sometimes. My family is very elastic, no matter how much I push them to their limits or make them cry they just bounce back to their normal, degenerative habits. During the ride back to school, my mom said that she talked to my brother... just about cleaning out his backpack. That really wasn't the active role I had in mind, but I guess once step at a time. She told me that when my brother is mad he doesn't listen anymore. I don't think he ever listens and he's always mad so it makes no difference if I'm yelling in his ear or anything.

Well, it's nice to see my roommate again and the nice, growing pile of trash. It's wonderful. Guess who's going to take it out this time. Not me. Why the hell does she have to wait for me to take out the damn trash? She knows where the trashcans are. I really wouldn't mind. Our original deal was that she would check the mail and I would take out the trash. What is she doing? Absolutely nothing. My plan is continue taking out the trash, I guess, and checking the mail. But did I ever say anything about bringing in her mail? Nope. I'll just leave it in the mailbox. I know it's not much.. just checking mail and taking out the trash, but I don't feel like playing the slave around here. I'm not lazy. I think I'm fair. I want people to clean up after themselves. That's all. I'm not the damn housekeeper or secretary.

It's ironic how things turn out. I was telling Xab a few days ago how I had nothing profound or exciting to say. In about thirty seconds, everything went from good to worse. It was starting to get to me how the household was just falling apart. My brother's grades are falling, they eat fast food every night, my mom's stress level is high. So I decided to say something. I asked my brother if he would just let my mom check his backpack so she could monitor his work. That was all. But he said no and after a while of trying to persuade him, my mom told me to stop because I was just making everything worse. Worse. How can things get worse? Of course it can get worse but at least I'm doing something. It's like they let things happen. I said I feel bad for living for college.

Xab was there, witnessing the whole thing. I started crying. I just wanted to stay in the hallway and cry. Maybe if I cried loud enough they'd get the message. I just wanted to cry and scream. Maybe they would listen. I didn't care if people were hearing me cry. I should have cried louder. I feel so damn selfish for leaving. I'm only thinking about myself and my future, but what about my family and their present situation? It just feels horrible that I can't do anything for them or that they're not even trying.

I held death in my hand again. After I promised everyone I'd stop doing that. It's pathetic, I know. But nothing serious. It's a scary moment when out of all the chaos and frustration, only the sight of a knife or even a screwdriver makes sense. I want everything to be okay. I'm 18 years old and I just want my mom to hug me and promise me that everything is going to be okay.