5/02/2007
The undeserving ones

I hate overachievers. I don't know - I just hate them. I hate the way their names always get published in some publication merely because they got another one again. Let's cheer for this and that because this and that won this and that in this and that, bringing honor to the this and that community. Sucks, right? It's as if the world circulated on their shoulders.

In my three months in SBCA, there was this pair of siblings that was just that. They were always up there - in politics, in academics, in popularity, in everything else imaginable. I was sort of relieved when I got the boot quickly after - at last, I thought, no more of the Shroffs. I've had enough of that name already. Sure, it sounds bitter and all - maybe it was the circumstances - but I'd have to give them credit for helping us, poor section 19, push our wishes of using our lockers during recess. (Actually, the administration wanted us to use our lockers only before and after all of our classes start. This makes me think I'm lucky to get the boot after all, rather than I get influenced by a school that supports bullies.)

And yet, I see one of them run for a school position - and win it - in DLSU. I thought I had enough? I shrugged it off, but I remembered all the contempt I had at their status. Up there, again. At least the names don't get published for any reason except for a successful campaign.

I complain about that overachiever annoyance occasionally. My sister just graduated from the same school, and whenever I read the leaflet that accompanied the event, one name just stood out. Whoever she is - she's won a smattering of awards, some well-justified, while the others merely repeat what she has done - and then I complain. My sister was like, what the hell? and didn't recognize my query. Then again, she's graduating in some position - she got in the school publication, one thing I never got to do, and probably never will. She was associate editor, I think. She wrote two columns in that year. And I, I was passed over because my idea of giving homage to school bus drivers was deemed flimsy enough.

My current school - miles away better than SBCA, with its penchant to attract asteroids and self-destruct - but it never worked anyway, to much of my chagrin - has this unwritten system in place. There is no such thing as an overachiever, except probably for the odd extraordinary case. You can either whip up a good thesis, or become an athlete and play for the Philippines, or be a student leader and lead rallies in Congress, or maybe just look like Barbie and get a thread about you. Your name never appears for no reason in, say, The Lasallian - unless, maybe, if you were caught squeezing off in the comfort room, or if you're Karla Peralta.

And so starts my love affair with the overachiever. Sure, I'm given a half-guarantee of my own slot in the world - four blogs, a reputation for blogging about the elections, and maybe for being overtly anti-social - but at least I'm assured that I'm safe. It remains an illusion, but yes, I'm safe. In fact I've been working (and flirting?) with the people who had the status I hated the most. I realized in the past nights, in the company of medium wave signals and tranced-up chillout, that it all worked out, somehow. Behind the status are friends - and then there are the people who just annoy you for being so good. I think I fell in love with one of them, even. And it felt so distant doing so. But heck, overachievers are love...

...but not really. If you're me, inconsolably and incurably insecure me, you'll still find a way to ruin the sunshine in everything, and the next thing you know, it's drab all over again. Their names appear everywhere, just when you want yours to be, and you go home and cry and wish it was all over. And up to now, I still don't know why I get so annoyed when I think that somewhere, somehow, there's this person who gets all the attention even though it isn't really due of him. I get first choice, and I'll take advantage of it! Oh, I think if you'll nitpick an overachiever's head that's what you hear first. I'll get to the top of the world, and nobody can stop me! Well, I wish, at least. You tumble down and you try hard not to cry, congratulate those who have been successful, and then you start wearing black as if somebody dear to you died. And yet they get the most friends, which means it all doesn't matter. I settle down and cry some more.

On the other hand, when I look at the open windows I have, I think of nothing but blank space. White is cleanliness, and cleanliness of records is a sign of one who's done good practically all the time. Although my teeth looks good, my dentist thinks mine are crowded, and they've insisted that I place braces - but not at the best time. I always thought they're permanent. Now I think that (uninitiated) people would presume Lizette is my girlfriend because it's our picture on my YM profile. But I'll go back to being one of the undeserving ones - besides, I'm pimply and have bad teeth. What else could go wrong?

And your responses...

nicely put =]

Anonymous chex5/02/2007     

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