delusional [?]

The not-so-official blog of Donya Quixote. Feedback is very much welcome and appreciated.

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sounds of the summer

"I don't need the sunshine
Don't need the good times,
Don't need anything anyone's giving,
And I don't mind your lies so keep on talking." - Don't Need the Sunshine, Catatonia


donya quixote

  • Proud to be Pinay.
  • Born once upon a time in the late January 1988.
  • Hails from the highlands; Baguio City.
  • She dorms.
  • Getting hazed trained for life at the School of Economics at the University of the Philippines, Diliman.
  • Member of the UP Campus Crusade for Christ and UP Economics Society.
  • Just a little bit crazy.
  • Doesn't want to kiss frogs; faithful to her Dulcine[o]. [NBSB PRIDE!]
  • Extremely socially inept - uncomfortable with the idea of meeting new people. Would rather curl up with a nice book than go out clubbing.
  • Loyal to the friends she already has. Cause they're great. [Most of the time. Hehe.] ;)
  • Usually highly opinionated when it comes to music/film/other media, but her lack of social awareness is disgusting.
  • A fool for Jesus Christ.
  • Here's her multiply, friendster, and email. [Has myspace, but it's as good as dead. Still contemplating on whether or not she should resurrect it.]


reader log

the past

Symphony in the Key of C-minor
Tikim ng Kalayaan
The Aftertaste v1.0

June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007

Credits

Art: DQ + some brushes from... all over the place.
Image Hosting: Imageshack & Imagecave
Code: DQ
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
[12:16 AM] | Permalink / /

I call this post: Rescue Me [BGmusic: The Eleventh Hour by Jars of Clay]

Sorry about my last post. I had just come back from my Econ101 class so I was feeling more than a little ditzy. That class does that to me. Sir Medall has super powers - his droning voice can kill brain cells at an exponential rate.

Today I'm going to post about something that affects us all. I wouldn't call it a groundbreaking subject, but it's definitely a social issue [oh yes, oh yes *nods vigorously*].

Laundry - ah, don't you just hate the sound of that word? It's like nails against a blackboard, or polystyrene against polystyrene, or the sound of that annoying High School Musical song [yung "Soooooaaaariiiing, flyyyyyiiiiing..." GAAAH].

I guess not many of you share my plight, because I know that not many of you do your own laundry. Well, I do. Well, I give all my laundry to the laundromat. Except for my underwear. I don't do my laundry on a regular basis - only when I have nothing to wear, so that means I have to drag almost all my clothes outside. [I do it with a huge white duffel bag. All I need is a dollar sign on the bag and a black ski mask, and - voila - I'm your friendly neighborhood bank robber.]

But there's something about doing the laundry - okay - giving my laundry to someone to wash it for me - that makes me feel really pleased with myself. It's similar to the feeling I get when I mail a letter or when I go somewhere on my own for the first time - hey, look at me world, I'm a big girl!

When the laundry-people find themselves struggling with my "magic white bag", I also can't help but break into a sheepish grin. They seem amused at my inability to give laundry in small little installments, like all the "normal girls". Every time, Kuya Laundry [I've been giving my laundry to them for almost a year now and I still don't know their names] tries to make me feel not-so-awkward - "You're not as bad as this other guy. He has cats so he has to change five times a day."

I don't have cats. I'm just a slob.

And something else about laundry - can you believe that they write songs about it? Remember that really annoying song that went a little like this?
Soap, powder, bleach, towels, fabric softener, dollars,
Change, pants, socks, dirty drawers
I'm headed to the laundromat
So romantic. What a wonderful grasp of the English language that girl displayed.

But you've got to hand it to her - she could sing about laundry and attribute it to some little fight she had with her boyfriend. It takes a real poet to do that. [Ahem.]

Anyway... the whole point of this post was to lead to this sentence:

I still haven't done my laundry. I have nothing to wear. Graaaaugh.

Now that that's done, I'm off.