Review of the Passion

From other reviews, I was expecting it to be more greusome. Yes, it was graphic, but I think it was all appropriate. I could hear alot of people crying too, so I guess the message got through to them. Christ died that most horrific death for our sins, and thanks to Mel Gibson for showing this to us. I wonder if this earns him cannonization?

I didn't really know what to expect when I first sat down in the chair, and I was going off of what everyone else had said. The priest gave it the thumbs up, and so did my other friends. And, even now, I don't really know how to review it. I watch movies and I rate them on how I enjoyed it or how it made me feel. People should know off the bat that they won't enjoy this movie, and everything they do after watching it will just feel wrong. Once the movie ended, not even the audience knew what to say. They got up to leave at the roll of the credits, but they were silent. No one said a word.

And unless you know your Bible stories (especially the one of Christ's final hours), then you won't really appreciate the movie's message. Everything that I knew from Bible school and everything in my faith had prepared me for what I was watching. I knew the sequence of events, and I even noticed the little intricacies (such as the use of the different whips, Christ's perpiring blood, and I think they could have done a better job presenting Judas' suicide). In the Catholic perspective, you are instilled to feel the oxymoronic guilt and glory that came from Jesus' sacrafice. You reflect on all his suffering, all the physical pain he received and the anguish of having God turn His back on Him. It is all this suffering that has given us this second chance at eternal life. I may be wrong, but I think most Christians don't get the full view of this. The extent of what I hear from them is "Christ died for your sins," and not "Christ was condemned for unsubstantiated crimes, flogged forty times, made to drag his own cross to the site of crucifixion while others jeered, and would ultimately die from suffocation-- all this suffering for every sin you committed, so that you would have the chance of getting into heaven." It is easier to say the former, though. These people don't need to convince me that it happened; they need to convince me that they understand how truly loved they are to have Christ commit himself to such a horrific death for our second shot at a life in heaven.

But let me get off this religious platform. I could go for hours on end on this subject, and I still have a bio lab practical to study for. Oh yeah, and this one last thing:

Oh no!

Dallas won against the spurs last night, and Tim Duncan got injured! Like any other sports fanatic, I believe that my watching and not watching has an impact on the way the Spurs play. So, it's all my fault. I studied biology last night, and I did not watch the Spurs @ Mavericks game, so I couldn't cheer them on. =(

Today I'll be watching the Passion of Jesus Christ with Miriam, Veldana, and I've been following the Passion since I first learned of it's production (which was about 4 or 5 months ago). A woman had a seizure and died during the crucifixion scene... isn't that a little freaky?

So, here's the official Spring break plans!
6-10 March: Orlando with Tita Pasing; hanging out w/ Lae and Sara; in search of a decent dance club (boo Pleasure Island!)
10-11 March: Homeward bound, P-cola
11-13 March: Party at Panama City; celebrating Kari's 20th w/ thousands of other drunk and ebullient college kids

Sure beats staying in the house and watching soap operas ::nudge nudge:: ::wink wink::

Fat Tuesday, Ash Wednesday

Yesterday and today are both the same-- dripping wet. There must be a particular cloud in the sky must be a Seminole's fan, considering it has not yet let up on Gainesville. And, I feel like it's been ages since the sun's warmth has touched my skin.

Yesterday was fun, despite all the rain. Christina from Jacksonville was interested in Aerospace Engineering at UF, so I was able to devote my whole day to her. Because we didn't have an umbrella, we walked in the rain, but every so often a nice frat boy in an orange shirt would offer us shade under his umbrella and he would start talking about why we should vote for his party Innovate for Campus elections. Christina said she was only in high school; I lied through my teeth and said okay. It was either lie and be dry or be honest and wet.

Terri, Michael's girlfriend, left Gainesville yesterday. What a great person-- can't wait to see her again. I spent some of the weekend with the happy couple, and it was so different seeing Michael with his girlfriend. I've never seen him so expressive! Wow, that girl put a spell on him or something. They are so cute, especially when they do DDR together!

So today is the beginning of Lent. I should go to church sometime today and get some of the ceremonial ash applied on my forehead, but I don't know if I have time (but I somehow have enough time to type this blog). People have been asking me what I'm going to give up. I used to love talking about what I was giving up-- I'd shout it if I could that I were sacrificing chocolates and candies or whatever I decided on. But, it just doesn't appeal to me anymore. It's like the parable of the rich man who would pray out loud in church and talk about everything great that he's done. People like the attention and recognition for giving up something, and I feel now like this trivializes the point of abstinence for Lent. The church is no better at promoting the virtues of abstinance-- they allow Saturdays as "indulgance days," and it is exactly as it sounds.

You don't abstain because you have to-- you abstain because you want to. You want yourself to be spiritually prepared for Easter. You give up something to try to fathom everything Jesus gave up for us. Can you imagine-- someone so pure laying down His life for our sins because he loved us? And so we give up some worldy pleasures in Jesus' honor, which by comparison is nothing to what He has done for us.

she said they were going to match up by ethnicity...

Today is Engineering Shadow day, where prospectve engineering majors come from all over Florida to shadow us engineering majors. Some people were shocked that she went out and said that, but it's a proven fact that people of the same culture will get along well almost instantly. Some of the white people were upset with this, of course, but they don't know what it's like to be judged by skin color anyway, so they can turn red in the face and all...

We didn't actually fill out in our registration forms what our cultural background was, but the lady heading this program said she'd guess. Well, I'm just guessing, but based on my full name (four names long, cognomen Diego), I'll probably end up with a person of Spanish descent.

"Racial Profiling," the white, non-caucasian engineering student jibed.

Good times playing mash online

I played with my sis... twice!

Kat's results
1) live in a Mansion... drive a purple/gold golf cart... marry Tom Cruise and have 25 kids... be a toymaker in Japan.
2) live in a mansion... drive a red mercedes... marry the Jeffrey twins and have 13 kids... be a condom maker in the Outback.

My results
1) live in a house... drive a caramel brown pinto... marry Shaq and have 1 kid... be a cardiologist in Anchorage.
2) live in a shack... drive an electric blue unicylce... marry Jason Mraz and have 34 kids... be a pilot in Iowa

http://www.playmash.com
it's fun

"asian girls like white boys"

Apparently, this myth seems to trouble the asian boys out there. I went on a website that has this asian boy arguing the very fact-- based on his own musings and sexual frustrations. I clicked on the guy's picture, and I was not surprised when I saw that he was not attractive at all. And to compound to that, his personality (according to the things I've read of his) does not make it a mystery as to why he remains unattached.

The majority of asian girls I know have primarily dated asian guys. Occasionally they'll date white guys, but this is more out of curiosity than anything else. Asian girls (in general) prefer asian guys, in case you hadn't noticed; but in any case, what makes you truly attractive or not is personality. Obnoxiousness will not attract the opposite sex your way. Attractiveness is a definite plus, but personality is the key factor. There are certain groups of people that rob themselves of individuality by trying to fit into another persona; and there are those who are just so overbearing with their own personality that they distance others instead of attracting them.

The truth is, there are guys of every race that wonder why the girls of their own race turn to other cultures; on the flip side, there are girls that are pissed off at girls of another race who "steal away" the guys of their race. The problem lies in not the extremely biased and narrowminded view that the white guys will usurp every and every resource of the minority, but in those individuals who complain. I guess that for some people, it's easier for them to believe that the white guy is the reason for their sexual frustrations. Heaven forbid that these people ever look internally to understand why they remain without a girlfriend.

Sometimes I wish I didn't have roommates (aka two-faced bitches that clean out everything you own)

The thing I like the best about this blog, is that I can blast people all I want on here, and I'll have that emotion out of my system. It's in situations where people piss me off (and I'm unable to blow up in their face on the matter) that this blog is best utilized. It's the rarely seen dark side to me, so without any further adieu...

I was promised a Chicken Parmesian for dinner. It was to be one of those roommate dinners, you know... bonding periods and all that. I mean, it was nice that they offered it to me-- they didn't have to. But, they rescinded the offer, and I was not aware of it until after they had dinner (to which I wasn't even notified). It didn't hurt so much that they offered it to me and then took it back-- what hurts is that my roommate Brigette was still fed Chicken Parmesian, and I was left out. I dont' even know why I'm getting overly upset, because I'm not even hungry to begin with. It's just that they didn't bother telling me, or asking me if I was alright with whatever they did. I would have been fine, had I been told. But, for the fact that I was told only after the were finished eating (as if to rub it in my face), that really gets to me. They had no qualms in even shouting to Brigette that her dinner was ready... and I waited for the knock on my door also. But, you know... fuck them. whatever. I have chemistry, thermo, and bio homework that needs to be done by tonight.

Valentine blues

I don't get the deal with looks. Like this past Valentine's day-- didn't have a valentine.

Never had one in nineteen years

isn't that sad? But, that doesn't really matter to me. What kinda gets to me is when people respond

What? You ought to have guys lined up all around the block for you

I don't think I'm unworthy of that much, but it just makes me do a double-take. What does that mean, exactly? Am I a pretty person? I think I've stared at myself in the mirror for too long that I only see plain and frumpiness. I don't know, honestly.

Anyway, comments like these I take with a grain of salt. I don't like compliments all that much-- they make me overly conscious, and I start over-analyzing (and that's why I'm writing right now, duh). Like, if I were as attractive as you say, then why am I still unattached and single? Thugs, nerds, and guys with the asian-girl fetish have come on to me insofar... Jon says that my standards are too high.

So, I wrote this without any specific train of thought, so I'm sorry if it doesn't make any sense.

Lord help me if I ever go public with this blog...

I kept an online journal in high school, back when I had a Geocities account. This one guy wrote me a love letter, and I posted it verbatim on that journal, and I went down on that letter like an English teacher, criticizing his word usage and sentence structure. I mean, he wrote let's conversate for goodness' sakes. I could never get together with a guy who ignorantly butchers the English language. I should probably ask guys for their high school report cards as part of my background check.

Anyway, I also said some other pretty bad things about that guy, which everyone was already saying about him except I had the stupidity of putting on a journal that anyone could access. He read it, printed out that entry, and he threw it in my face in the cafeteria. I still remember the neon orange paper coming right at me. Not like I cared that he found out how I truly felt, but I felt bad that I hurt his feelings. That was the day I learned the virtue of discretion.

So after other not-so-successful attempts of keeping an online journal (unsuccessful because I was always too lazy to update), I finally stuck with this one. It's public, but private to the people I know. Only a select few know about this, and those are few whom I trust completely. They already know I'm crazy, and they're still my friends, so what more is there to keep from them?

The reason I type is to make my impression on people, and what good are the things I type if I don't have a reaction? And, these people I know will never have a bad reaction to what I say, however ignorant and foolish my comments may be. But, I know of quite a few people who would have extremely bad reactions to this, mainly for my open disection of their own character, but this journal is for my ranting, so they can go and lick a frog for all I care. This is me.

Anyway, this whole subject arose after an aquaintance of mine IMed me. I first met him while studying physics with a mutual friend. And, he seemed to like me instantly. As for me, he was nice (not cute, not my type, but nice nonetheless) , and I'm just a nice and unassuming person in general. The Golden rule is my essence of being: I treat others the way I want to be treated, and I'm telling y'all, it has never let me down yet. It has gotten me in a few uncomfortable situations, but that's because I'm unassuming. People fall in love with me (after all, who can blame them?), and I only find out about it once they stop talking to me and I'm left wondering what happened to our friendship. Why can't some people just come straight out and say what they feel?

So, back to this guy. He IMs me "hey sexay," and the alarm in my head goes off. "Huh? What's going on?" is always my reaction to alarms-- car alarms, fire alarms, the alarms at convenience stores... He has an online journal link on his info, so I click:

While studying for physics I met this cute girl who I studied with all night. She seems really nice... She's asian (dont know what nationality) and has very nice lips :). Dunno if she has a bf or not... sure she wasn't interested in me anyway so no biggie.

The English teacher in me is taking out her red pen and ready to give him a D+, but for now I'll restrain her. The initial reaction to this was "whoa... no way." So, back to the uncomfortable situation, to which I hold lifetime membership. What to do now with this guy? I don't want to think about it, and I hope he doesn't bring anything up. Anyway, he said "no biggie," so it must be a fleeting thing anyway.

I checked his AIM profile later and the link was gone. What a coincidence, right? ::sarcasmmeter goes off::

It all comes down to...

I'm in love with this man.

Spurs news: ESPN has named the Spurs franchise the best out of all other North American teams. But, I already knew that. ^_^

unPLEASUREable ISLAND

I feel like talking about this past weekend in Orlando, because I'm likely to forget details, and every once in a while I go reading past entries and am like "wow, I forgot about that."

Friday Night: Sara actually came down to Gainesville for a sort-of birthday celebration weekend in Orlando. I originally intended to go to mend Leah's broken heart, but she and Christian got back together by midweek. I kept my promise to go, and instead we would just hang out and have fun. Then Sara called me (on her birthday no less), and she decided she wanted to come with.
She got a new Lexus because her yellow car (the one I totally adored) had been in a major wreck. She didn't want to get the Lexus damaged, so she rode along with me in my un-souped up stock Honda Accord. It was kind of awkward talking to her again. Conversation seemed a bit forced on her part, and she was reticent on anything concerning (Vile) Richard. I still can't get over the way he's treated her, and they must be fuck buddies or something, for her to keep him around. I want to know, but she won't tell me the truth.
We got to Orlando at 1:30am.

Saturday: It began with a trip to Publix, because I needed allergy medicine, and then we went to Denny's and ate breakfast/lunch/brunch. I was kind of against going to Islands of Adventure, mainly because I don't like spending so much money for just a one-time thing, but I ended up going, and I spent way more than the $52 one-day pass. I'm now an IOA Season Pass holder. First, Ayan bought one, and then Sara bought one, and Leah already had one... darn peer pressure. I spent $101.
Nonetheless, IOA was fun, and I felt somewhat better coming out of the park. After all, it's already been decided that I'm going to Orlando for spring break anyway, so with two trips to IOA I will have settled my IOA purchase, and everytime I go after that, I'll be going for free(will talk about the Spring Trip in another blog).
Now, we snuck out at 10:30 to go to Pleasure Island. Christian picked us up at the corner of the block. I felt so uncomfortable because I feared that Leah's parents would catch us, and he'd ban me from ever coming to stay at his house. But, we got away with it. While we were walking down the street, Sara kept saying how we'd get picked up and raped.
Admittance to Pleasure Island was $20-something. All you're really paying for is the atmosphere and security. It was impressive when we initially entered, but it really wasn't worth the $20. Firstly, there were so many post-30 year olds there, trying to bump and grind. Those who didn't, watched the blonde bimbos who were all up on each other. For the club I entered, there were two white-haired, over-the-hill men watching two blonde girls all up on each other.
The music was okay. I danced, Sara danced, and Leah hung out with Christian. Leah didn't dance, for which I felt kinda bad that we dragged her into that. But, omg, Sara has done the dirtiest dancing I've ever seen. Not unexpected, coming from Sara, but still surprising.
What really was a let down for Sara and me was that there were not more guys that were our age. We settled on dancing with ourselves, but the guys just couldn't resist trying to dance up on us! hehehe... we would pull each other away from ugly guys, but they are so insistant. This one guy was literally humping my leg. I felt like just cutting my leg off after that, it was so weird and disgusting. And the guys just cannot dance. First, this one guy comes up and starts booty dancing on me. So I went on while he did his thing, and then he would move around to my back and then expect me to give him some booty, so I just went with it. Then he'd go back to being the booty-ee, and it would go back and forth. Then while he was doing his thing, he turned around. I think he was expecting me to turn around and start with bottom-shaking, but I didn't. He gave me this odd look, and then he said, "it's your turn." I swear, he was serious too, and it took all of my strength to not bust out laughing. Hahaha... IT'S YOUR TURN!
But, by the end of the night Sara and I were officially disappointed with the turnout. Bottom line: Pleasure Island is overpriced and overrated. But I did get to go clubbing, so that should hold me over for another semester (my average has been once every semester).

Sunday: Amazingly, we all woke up for church at 10:30, and Sara and I left around 11:30, and then she left directly from Gainesville to Pensacola.

What an expensive weekend.

Oops...

definitely something you don't want to hear when someone's operating on your eyeball, but the doctor said it. I held my breath, and he recovered, if there was even a mistake from which to recover. It was one of those minor oops's, so all is well.

Did you know that for cataract extractons/lense replacements/cornea retransplantations, you're required to stay awake? You have to be conscious while someone digs away at your eye. The doctor says that it doesn't matter because you could barely see out of that eye anyway. I don't know about that, but it's a very scary thought, and I hope my vision never goes as bad as that.

The reason for my going on about this is that I witnessed all of these procedures on one woman. The operation took only three hours in its entirety. They were able to remove her cornea and her cataracts, and they gave her a prosthetic lens and a donor's cornea. I was in the Operating Room and had recently given up on solving my newspaper's crossword puzzle (they make those things too hard), and I was talking to a fellow volunteer. Then Dr. Andrews comes up, reads our name tags, and says, "Would you like to come and watch?"

... Who am I to refuse a free show?

Out of all the options for medical school, Opthalmology was at the bottom of my list. It was down there with proctology (butt doctor) and respiratory specialist. The latter doctor is the one you call if you're coughing up weird stuff. I am really sensitive about the eye-- touching it, poking it, and whatever. I'm even afraid of going to the Optometrist and having that doctor put those instruments right next to my eye. Before they started the operation, the doctor asked me, "you're not going to faint, are you?"

I remembered the last time I almost fainted-- an ER doctor was sewing back together a man's thumb. I thought I was such a baby after that. I was escorted out by the nurse and everything. So, this time I remembered to breathe, which I kinda forgot to do last time. Breathe in, breathe out. It may not seem hard to forget, but you tend to neglect other things when you're so focused on something else. I also tried not focusing so much on their thing, and I sang to the radio station in the background. The doctor even asked me, "Are you sure you want to give up your singing career for this?" ^_^

I ended up missing Chemistry, but I don't even need to say how my time was better spent in that operating room. I was standing next to doctors who spent at least ten years in medical school and such. And, in chemistry I would have been sitting next to a med-school student wannabe and watching Professor Meyers stir hydrochloric acid with silver nitrite, or something like that. That may be the highlight of some people's day, but I tend to think otherwise. I saw an eyeball operation-- how cool is that? =P

And, another very important thing I learned today in the operating room: Yes, they can perform suturing on the eyeball. The needle is about as thin as a piece of hair and probably two millimeters long, and the thread they use is even thinner. I asked what it was made of. Dr. Andrews said it was nylon. The other doctor said, "yes, it's pantyhose."

Great times.

Something smells funny in here...

Oh, it's the build up of aromas from my roommate's cooking. I can still smell the broccoli alfredo from the night before, which is not necessarily a good thing. ANYWAY, considering i made a 64/110 on my last thermo homework, and despite the fact that the dorm common room is rank, I'm still optimistic. I've reviewed the homework, and I'm going to see the TA later today. And, in biology we're talking about the circulatory system, which for some reason always puts me in this good and all-knowing mood.

Anyway, volunteering at the OR yesterday made me notice alot of things that 1) the operating room can be disgusting after an operation, and 2) itim people are nicer than puti people. There were blood splatters, canisters of human fluids, and biohazardous wastes... need I continue? The second observation comes from when I was just sitting in the hallway and watching people walk by. The puti walked past, their sights set straight ahead, making a conscious effort to pretend that I'm not there occupying a part of their hallway. The itim, on the otherhand, looked back at me, smile, and say "hello" or ask me how my day has been. Not one puti even looked my way, and not even one itim did not smile at me. Maybe it's a minority thing?

I'm looking forward to tonight now. I'm going to meet with Valerie, whom I met this weekend at Ate Beth's house. She's insists on taking me to dinner. Who am I to refuse?? Yay for Filipinos sticking together ^_^

Fatty

That's how I've felt all day long. And, now that I ate three plates of pasta, I can confirm it. I have twenty-nine cans of slimfast in my room (I had one for breakfast today), and I took the 'sensible dinner' a little overboard. SO, tomorrow: I'll definitely NOT eat (not that much, anyway), and drink alot of water and do alot of walking.

Now, here's the venting about my roommates: Brigette just has to be right all the time; Adriane is too loud and doesn't wash the dishes the right way (and by the right way, I mean that there are still food particles and residue on the dishes) and Johnae... I don't want to get started on her lazy hermit behind. I'll admit, I'm not there all the time, and I'm far from the ideal roommate, but at least I compromise. I'm glad that my schedule has made me a busy person so that I'm not around all the time, or else I'd be stressed over them.

Football

I don't know much about it, but I know that today's a big day. Today, cakes are being bought with frosted images of a big black cat and a streak of red, white, and blue. People will be getting drunk on this sabbath day. People will throw a huge party just to spend the majority of the time huddles around their TV screen. With all the celebration over tonight, they ought to make the last sunday of January a national holiday: Superbowl Sunday.

I'm not that into football but I'll have the TV on while I do my homework. I've been a fan of those commercials and the halftime show.