Menthol-Guy

About getting a summer job

I almost thought of getting a summer job, but it’s too late to get one since school’s three (or four) weeks away. Well, I’m dreaming of being a salesperson at some Quiksilver/Billabong or Abercrombie & Fitch outlet (though you need muscles to qualify at A&F) and get discounts on all the items, if such privilege is true. LOL. But I’d be damned to work anywhere inside a mall, really - even at Wendy’s (their burgers are GOOD) or Burger King.

I just think of myself nowadays as this spoiled brat who got nothing to do in their house rather than read books, watch MTV, play DotA, spend my own savings on planned boozefests. And no - if you guys would start on ranting about how lucky I am for not doing anything that’s mind-boggling or a huge hassle or a royal pain in the ass, forget it. It’s not even good or healthy. It’s something that’s sickening; though I’m somehow halfway dependent on my parents in financial terms - I’d love to explore and go independent.

For the first time in my life, I want myself to be productive (not in a sexual way)! Productive in a way where I could have a profit or some form of reward after doing it. Productive that somehow, I can be proud of doing it.

I’m afraid this is nothing but a phase phase, really. But, whatever.

The Year of Debuts

After all the raining yesterday (actually, I kind of thought of it as one of the windiest days I’ve ever experienced - next to the billboard-tossing Milenyo), today’s really cloudy and humid and hooot. Really sweaty.

I attended a debut a while ago. Not that kind of Fernwood Gardens or Villa Escudero debut - this one’s something simplistic and exclusive. The seven of us we’re invited at this debut, and it’s cool really. One of my friends, when I mentioned that I’ll attend the debut the next day, assumed that it’s the kind of formal debut (you know, all those suits and gowns and all the eighteen-roses shit). Well, it turned out that we played card games (like we’re back from High School: Killer-Killer’s our all-time favorite) and ate lunch and ice cream and french fries and talked about our different college lives.

Well, debuts don’t really have to be extravagant and class. I attended this debut celebrated at their very garage - as in garage last year. For her, she was even teary-eyed with the happening, like it was very much of a special day that we just danced with the videoke tunes. That’s when I erased such a grand definition or standards of a debut - in my case, a girl’s debut.

The time has come for me to attend tons of debuts (since most of my HS batchmates, most of them I knew by name or by heart, are turning eighteen this year), and I mostly enjoyed those debuts with the wildest themes in it; those which defies the normal and the traditional - throwing all the eighteen roses shit and instead, replacing it with eighteen shots (vodka shots, that is) or eighteen surprises (I almost thought of going nude, really) and all other stints with eighteen on it.

I’m just wondering why girls really prepare a lot for debuts. I mean, they celebrate it like they’re world class or something. We guys rarely celebrate our debuts (they say it’s when we guys have reached twenty one, but whatever), and I haven’t heard ANY GUY who celebrates a debut on his twenty-first birthday.

What’s somehow amazing with debuts is that you tend to look at some classmate’s face and realize that she officially legal of driving and drinking and partying. And in extravagant debuts, I get to wear formal coat-and-tie stuff and all those motifs. And, as my friends would say, debuts usually is the last thing you’d remember after recalling some girl way back High School.

Now I need to schedule all those debuts and think of where I’d get my allowance for the fare and all. LOL.