The Badly Written Sitcom

      I’ve been disillusioned more than once in my life. I used to be an athiest because I thought there wasn’t anyone up there doing something about everything that’s going on down here. I didn’t pursue film because, hell… why should I? Quality of life always comes first, I say. And now this.

      I’ve always been a sucker for a good romantic story. I watch Ed every week. There’s something great about feeling that in the end, we all become happy. In the end, we get what we want, simply because it’s what we deserve. I don’t believe in that anymore. There is no hope ofr that in this life. There is no happy ending. There is no fairy tale. All I have now is what I’ll always have; myself and the few close people I chose to value.

      I died a little today. The part of me that makes me believe died today. The part of me that actually smiles at the sheer beauty of love has passed on. No more setting people up, that would be cruelty on my part. No more hoping for true love, that would be an act of grandiose stupidity on my part, too. It’s okay, we all have to grow up sometime. There are always the weekends. 

       To start things off…I’d like to thank those who answered my call of acknowledgement (I loved Sunshine’s comment especially). The reason why I asked people to comment was that being my usual paranoid self, I wanted to have an idea as to who actually pays attention to yours truly’s rants and raves in case I wanted to rag on someone that I shouldn’t be ragging on, or if I’m putting out information that shouldn’t be out there in the first place. (Which, come to think of it, makes me realize that online journals aren’t for me.) But no suspicious characters seem to be reading this (That I know of…).

      I’ve seen Charlie and The Chocolate Factory 3 times. Wala lang.

      One of the best things about not working is that I actually have time to psych myself up for the upcoming Shawn Michaels-Hulk Hogan match. These are my two favorite wrestlers growing up and this match can only result in multiple orgasms on my part. (Did that sound gay? Well, wrestling is subliminally gay. That never stops anything from being cool.)

      That RockStar:INXS show is hot. The black guy is an obvious poser, though. I should know. We smell our own.

      I never realized MadTV was actually funny, until I got to watch it everyday.

     That Rated Oh chick is hot. Totally. Borderline psycho, yes, but hot.

      And finally, what’s up with MYX? Ecch.

      See a pattern here? I’ve been reduced to a couch potato by the woes of unemployment. So sad.

      Before we go on to the usual raving and ranting…I’d like to send out a message. I recently discovered that there are more people who read this than I realized. So, in order for me to really know for sure how much people who give the time of the day to read my bitching, a simple request: do comment. It doesn’t matter if you wish to address the issues raised (and issues galore lie in these posts), compliment the riveting writing, the sardonic genius that I spurn out while merely discussing the most elementary facets of my boring life, or just to tell me that I’m hot. Do so. It will be greatly appreciated.

       Now, on to the show. In the recent weeks, a lot of things have become glaringly clear. The biggest of which is, no matter how celebrated the event might be (mostly by me), I will not be returning to college. Now, don’t weep southern La Sallians, you will all still see me, just not in uniform. Practical concerns just can’t seem to keep themselves out of the proverbial picture.

      Another, despite my vow that I will, no matter what, no matter what the cost, that by year’s end i wil be back regularly inside the classroom, no matter what end of the teacher’s table I end up in, but I don’t think I will be teaching anytime soon. See, Conrad and I tried out for a couple of teaching jobs, and both times we seem to get rejected. Sadly, I’m too smart to teach high school, but I’m too inexperienced to teach college. I could easily use the "bullshit-laced system" as an excuse, but either way, I aint teaching.

        After one job rejection after another, I’m only reminded of one thing: FUCK JOBS. I’m still having the time of my life. (Mostly) You can take the boy out of college, but not the college out of the boy, and this is my drama now…my role in life…I laugh…I joke…and I roll with the punches. That’s me, the disappointment-laden punch-roller, and you’d be surprised at how much I can take.