Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Money, money, money...oh so funny...
Well, we got back the results of our nightmarish unit exam for theology this morning. Funny, we actually passed. Well, that was after Mr. Manaloto decided to give a ten-point bonus (probably was so horrified by the original results). But we passed. I got a C (again). Not a spectacular grade. Not even a decent grade, but then, I was expecting to fail, so I suppose I should be grateful for that. *sigh* And to think I used to get such nice grades in theology last sem, despite the fact that I hated the teacher's guts.
Mr. De Jesus still hasn't returned our first long test. Surprise, surprise... I should be used to it by now. It's always taken him a million years to return our papers. Maybe on Friday. Maybe Monday, or Wednesday, or Friday next week. Or maybe on the afternoon that we graduate, we'll get it back, having them handed to us along with our diplomas. Agh...I really do want to see how it turned out, bad grade or not. I just want to get this suspense over with so that I can go on and figure out how to get past it. But I checked out my recitation grades on those little green cards. Not bad. Much higher than I've come to expect these past two years, seeing as how I've always been so lousy at recitations. First time I've looked at those cards without seeing anything lower than a 3 on them. I have 5 recitations so far, totaling to 17/20. I need one more to get that required six...which would probably be on Friday, according to Mr. de Jesus. I need to get a 4 in that recitation so that I could at least get that B+ for recitation, which would be the highest I can possibly get at this point for recitation. Unless he really does add up our bonus points for our voluntary recitations. But I don't see how he does that.
And why am I so grade-conscious anyway? Go figure.
Moving on to other topics, how do you do win against someone who conveniently has a selective memory? My dad strikes again. I told him before that I have to go to a weekend retreat mid-February, and we'd already discussed it. Then, this morning, when I mentioned it again, he kept insisting that I never mentioned it to him before. Wouldn't back down, until finally, my mom intervened and assured him that I did tell him about the retreat before. He then goes and argues that I have a tendency to ask permission informally. I had to counter back that we'd discussed it intensively when I first mentioned it to him, so I couldn't have asked permission "informally". I confess that I have a pretty nasty temper, and I had to gather whatever self-control I have within me so as not to lose that temper. Can't help it. It always ends up like that, me telling dad things, him conveniently forgetting all about them, then insisting that his memory is the one that's on the right track. It's enough to drive one insane.
Speaking of insane, dad saw this ad in the newspaper about an Institute of Management seminar. A five-day seminar. He suddenly got it into his head that I should join. Told me that I would have nothing to lose by doing so.
Um, only my sanity.
No, thank you. I don't have anything against business management as a whole, as long as I don't have to do the managing of the business. I've come to accept (easily enough) long, long ago that business is not, and will never be, for the likes of me. I'm a creative writer! I'm supposed to have my head in the clouds, I'm not supposed to be level-headed and analytical and all that! Just kidding. But seriously, I really don't think I'm cut out for the business world. It's a different place, that world of Miss Patawaran (haha). A place where you actually have to be practical, and not imagine that money grows on trees. It's a place where you have to more...um... corporate-minded in the way you think, act, and dress. I'm a jeans-and-t-shirt kind of girl! And I hate anything that involves numbers. Money is made up numbers (not that I have anything against money...it does make the world go round to a certain extent). So, I'll just stick with trying to pretend that I'm a real writer and waste ink and paper, if it's all the same to you.
Mr. De Jesus still hasn't returned our first long test. Surprise, surprise... I should be used to it by now. It's always taken him a million years to return our papers. Maybe on Friday. Maybe Monday, or Wednesday, or Friday next week. Or maybe on the afternoon that we graduate, we'll get it back, having them handed to us along with our diplomas. Agh...I really do want to see how it turned out, bad grade or not. I just want to get this suspense over with so that I can go on and figure out how to get past it. But I checked out my recitation grades on those little green cards. Not bad. Much higher than I've come to expect these past two years, seeing as how I've always been so lousy at recitations. First time I've looked at those cards without seeing anything lower than a 3 on them. I have 5 recitations so far, totaling to 17/20. I need one more to get that required six...which would probably be on Friday, according to Mr. de Jesus. I need to get a 4 in that recitation so that I could at least get that B+ for recitation, which would be the highest I can possibly get at this point for recitation. Unless he really does add up our bonus points for our voluntary recitations. But I don't see how he does that.
And why am I so grade-conscious anyway? Go figure.
Moving on to other topics, how do you do win against someone who conveniently has a selective memory? My dad strikes again. I told him before that I have to go to a weekend retreat mid-February, and we'd already discussed it. Then, this morning, when I mentioned it again, he kept insisting that I never mentioned it to him before. Wouldn't back down, until finally, my mom intervened and assured him that I did tell him about the retreat before. He then goes and argues that I have a tendency to ask permission informally. I had to counter back that we'd discussed it intensively when I first mentioned it to him, so I couldn't have asked permission "informally". I confess that I have a pretty nasty temper, and I had to gather whatever self-control I have within me so as not to lose that temper. Can't help it. It always ends up like that, me telling dad things, him conveniently forgetting all about them, then insisting that his memory is the one that's on the right track. It's enough to drive one insane.
Speaking of insane, dad saw this ad in the newspaper about an Institute of Management seminar. A five-day seminar. He suddenly got it into his head that I should join. Told me that I would have nothing to lose by doing so.
Um, only my sanity.
No, thank you. I don't have anything against business management as a whole, as long as I don't have to do the managing of the business. I've come to accept (easily enough) long, long ago that business is not, and will never be, for the likes of me. I'm a creative writer! I'm supposed to have my head in the clouds, I'm not supposed to be level-headed and analytical and all that! Just kidding. But seriously, I really don't think I'm cut out for the business world. It's a different place, that world of Miss Patawaran (haha). A place where you actually have to be practical, and not imagine that money grows on trees. It's a place where you have to more...um... corporate-minded in the way you think, act, and dress. I'm a jeans-and-t-shirt kind of girl! And I hate anything that involves numbers. Money is made up numbers (not that I have anything against money...it does make the world go round to a certain extent). So, I'll just stick with trying to pretend that I'm a real writer and waste ink and paper, if it's all the same to you.
# Lyn found a missing piece @ 7:53 PM 
