And my heart is broken and ignored. Love is unrequited. He doesn’t care. Soul is flying out the window. Why is it so painful to love?
that right after i raved about something, that something usually turns bad against me, real bad and real quick.
the situation at my favorite workplace just flipped 180 and now it feels like walking on broken glasses with bare feet to teach there.
the students there stabbed me in the back, ranting to other professors that they didn’t understand the lesson because of my teaching. classic huh!
i don’t have a problem with criticism. i have a problem with gossips. instead of talking to my face, they said bad things about me behind my back. how could i not be angry.
i accept the responsibility on my part. my teaching technique is far from perfect. it’s my job to make learning fun and lesson easy to follow. there is, and always will be, something that is clear to some people and unclear to others, nonetheless. isn’t it their responsibility to ask the questions when they do not understand? how dare they entirely throw this burden onto me, and not share it with themselves! from what i see, they are too lazy to think, to bother, or even to care about the lesson. they simply sit there like morons and try their best to look bored. they are good at making zero effort to learn.
now my spirit is so low that i don’t want to prepare the materials, i don’t want to teach. i really hate the situation i’m in, and i hate those who backstab me. i also feel so shameful that other professors are aware about this situation. they must think i’m a bad teacher. i’m also doubtful whether i will still get this gig next semester.
and most of all, i hate those students who make my life miserable, those who severely tainted my pink world, those who took my happy place away from my hand. i wish they all fail the class and be expelled from the university.
i will adjust my teaching. that’s the only thing i can do. i can never, however, forget how those students from hell made my feel. they make my life hell and i will return the favor.
i go back to my wish list i made just before christmas. i asked santa (or satan) for bunch of material stuff. surprisingly, some i already got. the reason i say surprisingly ‘coz i didn’t think, at the time, that i would get them. half a year later, turned out that i did.
do those stuff make me content? of course not. that answer is obvious. materials give instant gratification but never everlasting contentment. that must come from within.
materialistic as it is, here are the items i already got, and will get: sony ericsson xperia 10 (horrible, shouldn’t have wished for), another job (it’s not bad after all, also means bigger paycheck), toyota yaris (will get before the 2nd semester starts), and last but not least, friendship. i have been extended friendship from new faces and reconnected with old ones, thanks to facebook.
what did you wish for new year, and are those wishes granted?
i feel that my current 2 jobs are similar to my makeup choice. one is like makeup base, while the other is foundation. one makes the other one look good. one can be use alone but won’t look equally as nice as when together.
i believe that by working 2 jobs, thus gaining more experience, helps me do my job better. and i’m right. i know how to explain the lessons better now that i can how to anticipate the questions, or at what points students may have troubles with certain materials. it’s exhausting but i feel good when i can do my job well.
what i didn’t expect is the feelings which are getting worse with the 1st job. i am not entirely happy with the way they treat me: like a 2nd class citizen. i never feel like i’m one of them, probably because i don’t have ph.d. in linguistics. and something else. however, i get by, trying to ward off unpleasant attitudes that direct towards part-time teachers, and focusing on the pleasure of teaching at one of the most prestigious academy in the country. oh crap! that amounts to nothing when people treat you poorly. i try to pay no attention to the negatives and move on.
now that i work at a 2nd job, comparison is unavoidable for it’s obvious. there are many tiny details which build up my resentment. i don’t even have a desk at the 1st job while i have my own working space, desk, stationary, wifi and high speed internet connection to use as i please. i have none of that at the 1st job. the part-time staff room there is horrible; no air conditioner and swamped by mosquitoes. i didn’t know potential malaria is a bonus. people at 2nd job are tremendously nicer; staff are helpful, security guard is polite, full time teachers always say hi, help out and give advices. they never give me an air of superior as in ‘i’m the full time teacher and you’re not’ vibe. they are friendly and make me feel at home. how wonderful is that! i didn’t graduate here but i feel like i belong, whereas people at 1st job make me feel out of place almost all the time despite the fact that i graduated from the same institute as them.
it doesn’t mean that i want to leave my 1st job. i have good memories there. i feel like home the moment i drive through the gate. working both places improves my skills. work wise, these 2 jobs complement each other. it’s the same way that makeup base complements foundation. your skin is supposed to look flawless.
i don’t want to pick one over another. i don’t particularly like to apply foundation but my blemished face needs it. the makeup base helps the foundation work better but using it alone isn’t enough. i have to keep them both and work on improving my skin conditions.
is beauty really in the eye of the beholder? or does it have some standard that everyone, more or less, agree upon?
do we agree that mature women should not dress the same way their teenage daughters do?
when skin is sagging, isn’t it appropriate to cover up? the less elasticity in your skin, the more fabric you wear.
i went to a bank earlier today and saw some toxic sight.
a women, i guess, of late forties or early fifties, was dressed in a pink tank top and white shorts. wtf, dude?
her skin wasn’t very sagging to the point that it was ugly to look at. it, however, started to show the decline in firmness.
i wonder why she dressed that way. doesn’t she have some shame? we don’t usually show much skin in this country, unless we are at the beach. showing a lot of skin is usually for teenagers whose parents are too busy to discipline them or who aspire to become whores.
what is her agenda? does she think she can look appealing to her husband dressing like a cheap slut? or maybe she used to dress like that when she was younger and that style has become her staple. no matter what the motives are, i think, when in doubt, more is less. we should take a look in the mirror before stepping out of the house.
how one dresses is one’s business and i should butt out?
sorry no. can’t accept that. it’s your business how you dress, yes, but it’s my eyesight you are polluting. i think fashion and beauty have a certain standard that we most agree upon; when you are an adult, dress like one. the length of your cloth should not be the opposite direction to your age. there is women section at department store. don’t get lost in the kiddy floor.
it’s not my business until you step into my sight.
staying home can be hazardous to your mental health. i have the 1st hand experience in that.
i thought i was ok. obviously, i am not. i was ok until i am not.
i have to stay home during school break for financial reason. no work, no money, no problem. that’s what i thought and i was so wrong.
i don’t have much activities and when i find one, i am thrilled. when i found a yoga class that i really wanted to attend, i was glad to step out of home and do something good. my parents, however, asked me to pick up the niece, instead. what was i to say?
i went out anyway to go to the bank but managed to rush back on time. only to be told that my service wasn’t required. they would pick up the niece themselves.
what the hell did i race back for? WTF!
and my retarded mother pulled an innocent look and asked if i got her message, which was delivered when i was less than 100 meters from the front door. the message was, of course, they didn’t need me to pick up the niece.
why the hell did she not call me an hour earlier, instead of when i was practically in front of the gate, to tell me that?
they just don’t care about anything else. they changed their mind and that’s it. no more discussion.
i cancelled my yoga class for this. i cut my errands short and hurried home for this. my effort amounts to nothing.
why do my parents get to be this way, i do know. i simply do not want to understand or forgive their lack of consideration. i don’t know why but this incident makes me so mad. so much so that i threw my cellphone again the wall. it broke into pieces.
from now on, they can pick up the niece themselves. i will refuse to help them in anyway. they could drive out, crash, and die and i would not care.
that’s how much angry i am. and i really really really hate them.
how does one have so much hatred in one’s heart?
how do i have so much hatred in my heart?
i am filled with hate, rage, and anger, all of them towards my parents. these 2 people are the example of those who should not have children.
i do recall some moments i loved them. most of the time, though, all i have had is resentment and anger.
my heart is full of hate. i hate my parents. i am mad at them. i wish i were an orphan.
my mother is spineless, stupid bitch who deliberately says all hurtful things to enjoy herself. she is jealous of me, that much is obvious. and that makes her very pathetic. i have a stupid and pathetic person as a mother. i don’t understand why she gets to be that stupid. often times, things that come out of her mouth make me wonder how her brain can be that dead. she is college graduate and that just proves how much of a failure our education is.
my father is one son of a bitch. being a breadwinner gives him the idea that everything must be his way. he forgets that we are people too, and living under the same roof is bound to have conflict. he never tolerates anything. he hit me, shouts at me, and psychologically abuses me. it has been very difficult for me to build self-confidence in the environment like this.
having abusive and bitchy parents is no excuse to live a bitter life. i try to gain myself more self-esteem but it’s really hard to do. when you are talked down to and constantly injected with hurtful words, how do you build a good character from that? words aren’t only words. they hurt tremendously.