On procrastinating

Have you seen my planner? like, everyday I plan what I'm going to accomplish for the day. Monday, I have made a contract with my planner to accomplish my book report due next month, start reading a 300-something page novel for my counseling psychology subject due next next month and everything else have been consigned to the paper. However, out of all the things that I have listed on my planner, there were only two from them that was accomplished, a day before their deadlines because I am a buzz-beater like that.

It's not like I love procrastinating completely. But there is something in it that makes me want to delay accomplishing my tasks most of the time. According to my literature researches, there are many reasons why a person or usually a student like me procrastinates:

1. Laziness. Laziness is not inherent in a person. It is a kind of behavior that can be learned by the person through his environment ( i.e. he hangs out with a group of lazy people and soon learns their ways)

2. The task is uninteresting or boring. Most of the time, we prefer to do things that we love to do ( i.e. photography over a mathematics assignment, facebook over research paper and so on)

3. The person thinks he is incompetent at finishing the task.
4. for pleasure. Some people procrastinate because they love the challenge of accomplishing a task under time pressure. And it is even more rewarding for them knowing that even if they procrastinate, they still get good or even excellent grades.

The three reasons for procrastinating except number 3 are something that I usually apply to my academic life. 

For years, I've been a procrastinator. Most of the time, being one is stressful because I get all the tasks piling at the end of the day and every negative emotions like worrying and frustrations bug me. Procrastinating is also not healthy because it takes a toll on your sleep and sometimes, your eating habits. For me, once, I had to stay awake for forty eight hours straight just to finish all my tasks that have piled up and I had never eaten much because I was typing..typing...and typing on my laptop for forty eight hours. 

Although I realize the dangers of procrastinating, I still do it. Why? then again, please refer to the following reasons I've mentioned above. 

P.S. it's okay to procrastinate so long as you are aware and ready to face its consequences. :p

Take the chance..break your hour glass

She walks and talks, usually, in her most modest way. She rarely laughs her heart out, and once in a blue moon flashes her genuine smile. 


She is like every other girl except that when she walks and talks, usually, in her most modest way, you do not see the real her. It's not her. She's masking her true feelings, and anyone who attempts to enter her world fails. Why doesn't she wear her emotions on her sleeves? why can't anyone penetrate her world? 


She's cautious with her actions, every movement has to be perfect, flaws should not be seen by the naked eye.Over the years, she has mastered deception. No one, at least, has ever pointed out that one thing she is afraid of telling. Unrealistic fear of rejection stops her. It's not your problem why she cannot talk her walk. The problem lies within, on a cognitive level. It is her perception problem, a result of years of self-defeating thoughts triggered by her environment, but most of the time, by her. 


But now,she's gradually sharing her world to everyone. She's unlearning her unrealistic fear one day at a time.  And oh noooo, she's not really difficult to understand if you are willing to break your hour glass and spend the time deciphering her thoughts.. 


She's a deep person, and it takes a willing man to really know her. Take the chance. 

Pre-valentine's day blog entry # 1 ( late post)

February 13, 2011 8:47pm


Everywhere on Valentine's day, we see men rushing to the nearest flower shop to buy the prettiest bouquet of flowers for the apple of their eyes, their one true love or as they call 'honey, hon, Babe..and a lot more'. They also buy a pack of chocolates, preferably the most expensive and/or if they really want to make their women feel loved, they write cheesy love letters.


There are, however, some men, those who are filthy rich or (if not rich), those who have saved enough money who can afford to bring their ladies to a romantic candle-lit dinner for two made extra special because there are violinists playing a love song in the background, and rose petals scattered everywhere on the floor.


The women, on the other hand, are busy dolling themselves up so that they'll be attractive in the eyes of their lovers or dates. As much as possible, some aspire to look as perfect as Blaire Waldorf to really catch the attention of their men. And of course, they are waiting for their men to give them their flowers, chocolates, and love letters before they give their gifts.


It is also during Valentine's day that SOGO, MARIPOSA and any other hotels get 'fully-booked' for the night and we all know that this is an acceptable behavior specially in people who want to give their special someone the highest, and let's all confess, the most pleasurable and irresistible expression of love--sex.


These activities are all too normal for MOST lovers. In fact, there are times that these preparations become too boring already because these activities do not surprise us anymore (unless, it is your first time receiving a flower on Valentine's). These are usually done and have already become a routine during Valentine's day which left me wondering how, for the lack of better term, do 'unusual' people celebrate their Valentine's day.


The following are just my assumptions/speculations, most probably workings of my imagination and any objection or violent reaction should be directly addressed to me. 


FOR EMOS, they view love as a very painful experience but enter a relationship anyway usually with an emo like them. These couples, as they usually do (during Valentine's day or not) wear black shirts with a broken heart print ( insert another print design in mind) on them, wear Kohl eyeliner and sport side-wept bangs.


During Valentine's day, they celebrate their love for each other by looking for a dim-lit room where they can stay for a while. In this room, they will be sitting next to each other on the floor where they will be slashing their wrists together using a blade, They then declare their love for each other by scribbling 'I LOVE YOU' on their arms and write their promises of 'undying love' in a piece of paper using their blood as an ink. 


Just imagine Lapu-Lapu and Magellan doing a blood compact except that they are not sporting side-swept bangs and wearing black shirts and kohl eyeliner. 


FOR MASOCHISTS, love is such a brutal experience. The act of being beaten, bound or otherwise made to suffer is the best expression of love. As a Valentine's day treat for each other, masochist couples celebrate their 'love' for each other by having sex all day, without break. In the process, lady masochist will be putting fourteen red roses with thorns on their bed while they do their thing. The male masochist, on the other hand, will be scribbling the words ' I LOVE YOU' on lady masochist's back using a swiss knife. Lady Masochist does the same for male masochist. The sight of blood everywhere and screams of pain arouse them even more to do their thing. 


FOR JEJEMONS, they do not care about what other people say about how they dress and type text messages. They wear their jejecaps proudly and sport their over-sized shirts with 'HapPfee Vbalentine'zzzz Phoewzzzz' print on them. They are not shy about dating in the open and weird looks don't stop them from saying 'I lab you phoewzzzz, ajejeje' to each other. For Valentine's day,Jejemons send group messages containing love quotes typed in jejemon form to all their cell phone contacts. 

Night Cries

Oh, can you please tell me 

with lips like those of a ripe fruit, where have you been tonight?

Of freudian travels and workings of reclining still..

shutting yourself from the physical world..

Across the room, I heard you talk and scream of 

restless walks in that park and of mourning nights.

Peeking through a slightly opened door, I noticed that your face, under the moon light, looks pale..

Beads of sweat rolling down your temples..

Your muscular body, petrified.

And then suddenly, you let out another sharp piercing cry and woke up

Your back now resting against a wooden headboard, your hands covering your face..

It's haunting you..they're haunting you..

the gun shots..and the dreadful image of those who have perished

as you watched them closely behind a bush.. 

those bloodshot stares urging you to break your silence..

"Testify", they say.

You reach for your prozac, it's always located on your bed-side table, and drink it..

No one is saved...

For months, I knew all along where have you been...

I heard it many times, always, in the dead of the night..

Of freudian travels and workings of reclining still..

shutting yourself from the physical world..

Eight months ago, it was all over the news..

But then again, I want it to come right from your lips like those of a ripe fruit..

Getting in touch with reality

I was bored so I turned my mp3 player on and closed my eyes. With my earphones on, I was instantly transported into a coliseum where John Mayer was singing 'Your body is a wonderland' exclusively for me on stage. The coliseum with its breathtaking ruins was nearly 'peopleless' except that there was a waiter, dressed in a tuxedo, serving the most delicious tasting food from a world-renowned restaurant that's famous for its pasta and most expensive wine. There was also a foot masseur attending to my tired feet and a manicurist painting my nails bright red.

I was sitting like a queen in a golden armchair, being fanned by my two alalays---Aljur and Coco (and they happened to be shirtless). In a blink of an eye, John Mayer disappeared on stage, stood behind me, whispered a phrase that sounded Japanese into my left ear and vanished from the scene. His four minutes of breathtaking presence ended just like that, with him singing his heart out and bidding hissayonara with love <3. 

the next minute, my mp3 player introduced a new song which brought me back to the 1990's--the time where boy bands were a hit--and into a dance studio.The five boys,whose captivating smiles and smooth dance moves left me speechless and mesmerized, wanted  to show me the meaning of being lonely and asked me the very question: Tell me why I (we) can't be there where you are?

When I was about to open my mouth to answer their question, my mp3 player ran out of battery and died on me. It was a triumph of reality over fantasy. I opened my eyes and looked around me. Everyone was wearing their school uniforms, a white blouse and a green skirt. The place was neither a coliseum nor a dance studio. There was no one attending to my tired feet nor a manicurist painting my nails bright red. There was only me, all alone,  in my school uniform in an all-girls school, in a cafeteria that serves the most tasteless food in the world and they even dared to ask such a question? 

By the way, they don't have to show me the meaning of being lonely. I already know.

For Public Viewing

This blog, is for everyone to visit, or frequent and everyone to read. Apparently, this one is my first-ever blog available for public viewing. In the past, I've created blogs whose sole purpose of existence was for mere expression of myself whenever I'm angry, or sad, or especially happy. This one is different because I am now allowing you to explore my world and my thoughts starting today. :)

Please feel free to comment :p

Thanks

--Kat <3