Thank God for Jejemons
by Nicole Eunice Jabines on Tuesday, January 18, 2011 at 1:19pm
Thank God for Jejemons...
I remember somebody telling me the other day, “I don’t understand Jejemon (lingo).”
Trust me, I hardly do. It takes a little more eccentric creativity to do so.
I admittedly have this slight aversion for Jejemons – they seemingly have a league of their own which I know I will never be in. I have yet to laugh in a jejeje way and use all the j’s h’s and w’s and z’s in my sentences.
I don’t even mind if they have their aversion towards me (and my friends) too. I’ve been called “conyo” and “sosyal” by some jejemons anyway, ever since they heard me speak the way I do. I guess that’s just the way things are. Cliques are inevitable: like nerds, athletes, cheerleader types and ass kissing students exist in the academe.
Imagine the jejemon prank messages and calls I get—day in and day out, specially with Sun’s unlimited texts and calls. My phone flew one time from the bed to the cabinet to the cold floorwhen some jejemon called in at 2.30 in the morning, saying “cnu kuh te? Pwd kuh mgng teksmeyt?”
I got a message later that morning, saying, “zuplada nmn u.”
Imagine a world without jejemons. Hmmm.
I woke up this morning on the surly side; I’ve been feeling melancholic of late. (Why is a different story.) My eyes looked like slits which were fed 5 kilos of shrimp. (Thank God for ice cubes, and concealer!)
I was asleep the whole trip to work—dark shades definitely did the trick for the meantime. I think I may have looked like a dark force in shades – (Imagine the Devil wears Prada) only in an all white dress, as I stepped from the car crossing the street without my usual “Hey I’m little Ms. Sunshine!” spirit.
Lucky for me, no car ran me over when I was crossing the street so out of focus. Until 2 seconds after a group of cap lovin,’ sando wearing, jeje laughing creatures came up too close to me (my fault maybe?). I was caught by surprise.
Jejemon says: Wow te ganda mo pinaganda mo araw ko!
I would normally want to sock people like those in the face. I stepped back, forced a slight smile instead.
“Have a nice day te!” One said, walking away, smiling, while staring. Ugly teeth and all.
I answered with, “Salamat.”
Two minutes later, at my desk, I find myself saying my morning work prayer, and facing the mirror. Smiling.
Thank God for Jejemons! They lifted my spirits up, no matter how slight, in a way all the conyos and sosyals I met this morning didn’t.
I will never be like them as far as they are defined, but I’d like to make others have something to smile about everyday,or at least once a day even,as they did.
So thank God for Jejemons. They reminded me, kindness and positivism is contagious; and more importantly, it doesn’t require a dress code or a unified dialect.
Kindness speaks for itself, and speaks for its own.
Have a nice day. :)
I remember somebody telling me the other day, “I don’t understand Jejemon (lingo).”
Trust me, I hardly do. It takes a little more eccentric creativity to do so.
I admittedly have this slight aversion for Jejemons – they seemingly have a league of their own which I know I will never be in. I have yet to laugh in a jejeje way and use all the j’s h’s and w’s and z’s in my sentences.
I don’t even mind if they have their aversion towards me (and my friends) too. I’ve been called “conyo” and “sosyal” by some jejemons anyway, ever since they heard me speak the way I do. I guess that’s just the way things are. Cliques are inevitable: like nerds, athletes, cheerleader types and ass kissing students exist in the academe.
Imagine the jejemon prank messages and calls I get—day in and day out, specially with Sun’s unlimited texts and calls. My phone flew one time from the bed to the cabinet to the cold floorwhen some jejemon called in at 2.30 in the morning, saying “cnu kuh te? Pwd kuh mgng teksmeyt?”
I got a message later that morning, saying, “zuplada nmn u.”
Imagine a world without jejemons. Hmmm.
I woke up this morning on the surly side; I’ve been feeling melancholic of late. (Why is a different story.) My eyes looked like slits which were fed 5 kilos of shrimp. (Thank God for ice cubes, and concealer!)
I was asleep the whole trip to work—dark shades definitely did the trick for the meantime. I think I may have looked like a dark force in shades – (Imagine the Devil wears Prada) only in an all white dress, as I stepped from the car crossing the street without my usual “Hey I’m little Ms. Sunshine!” spirit.
Lucky for me, no car ran me over when I was crossing the street so out of focus. Until 2 seconds after a group of cap lovin,’ sando wearing, jeje laughing creatures came up too close to me (my fault maybe?). I was caught by surprise.
Jejemon says: Wow te ganda mo pinaganda mo araw ko!
I would normally want to sock people like those in the face. I stepped back, forced a slight smile instead.
“Have a nice day te!” One said, walking away, smiling, while staring. Ugly teeth and all.
I answered with, “Salamat.”
Two minutes later, at my desk, I find myself saying my morning work prayer, and facing the mirror. Smiling.
Thank God for Jejemons! They lifted my spirits up, no matter how slight, in a way all the conyos and sosyals I met this morning didn’t.
I will never be like them as far as they are defined, but I’d like to make others have something to smile about everyday,or at least once a day even,as they did.
So thank God for Jejemons. They reminded me, kindness and positivism is contagious; and more importantly, it doesn’t require a dress code or a unified dialect.
Kindness speaks for itself, and speaks for its own.
Have a nice day. :)
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Originally posted On January 18, 2011
