hiatus from blogging does not mean hiatus from life.

well unfortunately, it doesnt indicate a hectic one as well. if anything, it shows laziness to type. i never saw myself implying that: me too lazy to actually write stuff ABOUT MYSELF. moving on, nowadays we classify food as "real" food or fastfood. this, dear reader, is the fastpost as opposed to real post. comecome.

how do you measure a life? in decades? years? no. thanks to mtv, short attention span would allow me to sum up my life in a week. scrutinize a week, u get a rhythm. a bad rhythm spells doom and despair.

and then, as we would further have it, i begin a new cycle that is second semester. every student would surely talk about his classes. as to brag about it and show the world: hey, this is me inching my way to greatness. just wait and i'll make my mark, i'll make a difference in the universe. let us oblige.

i have signed up for six units: fiction workshop 1 under dr. butch dalisay (fridays 5-8p), and creative nonfiction workshop 2 under ms. marra pl. lannot (sat 1-4p). la-dida. because i swore 2 things: 1. i will find a job so better dodge the weekdays. no.2 i will be a good boy-slash-serious grad student. minimize socials, pump up academia.

both promises are yet to be fulfilled.

i had my first class last friday. i actually arrived at the diliman campus on time, took my sweet time and had a couple of smokes outside the rizal building. then i went on to look for my class. i have grown accustomed to camping outside the classrooms. in up, thrity minutes late is actually on time. however, after noticing that there are no other people waiting for that oh-so-in-demand class to start, and after pounding on the door of specified classroom (not to mention performing rituals on my registartion form to make sure if it was indeed showing me the correct classroom) i shoved my way to the english department. of course only to find out that ive been waiting in front of the wrong office. in the wrong building, for that matter. my prize for being late for the first day of dr. dalisay's class is precious: walking through the door and finding familiar faces on the other side. The faces were familiar because they taught in ateneo. to make one understand the gravity of this detail, how's this: this semester, i will be having my work critiqued by my former teachers and of course let's not dodge the impending awkward-o-rama of having me critique their work as well. splendid.

after this, i hit (ta-daaa) rack's el pueblo. it's no use bashing this hole as i will find myself in it again (for the 3rd time in my life) the following week--as in moments before i type this down. instead of going heavy on alcohol, i trooped to the nearby 7-11 and finished 2 monster tumblers of slurpee. in all honesty (and stupidity) i thought that i was doing the better thing to do. having classes the following day, that night was not the time to get drunk. i completely forgot about the fact that mirinda slurpee contained caffeine, but i actually had time to think about the wrongness of that decision as i watched the sun rise outside my bedroom.

zombie was the motif during the creative nonfiction class. the homework (and it was the first meeting!) is just so...too painfull to even type down.

that night i attended a party with a 90's theme. i wore a big striped chaps tee, khaki walking shorts and sandals with socks. harhar i was trying to look for my windbreakers and failed to find them.

the days that will follow are packed with the following activities:









having had done all this for this week, i once again hit a friday. my friday (as in yesterday) would begin at around three. i wake up and watch a couple of telecrap. i get ready for school and scram.

the second session for the fiction workshop had us talking about three short stories. i had read them, enjoyed them, and had nothing to say about them. marvel at my intelligence, people. during the only time i recited, i wasn't able to articulate my point.

after class, i go to racks el pueblo again. basically with the same people. pleasant surprise: mojofly was on. so i proceded to melt under ricci gurango's (the stunning bassist) gaze. i assume that he was gazing at me. looking, staring, seeing, viewing and every other word that means this. he has eyes solamente pare me. after their final set, i walked out of the resto-bar pregnant with his child. i swear.

(by the way, their new vocalist is soooo pretty. possibly prettier than the last one, even. well, its a matter of taste, and for me, she might be. they had a smashing repertois which included sweet child of mine and king (or queen) of pain. yes, apparently, the nineties is still following me. but it really was a smashing sonic experience and i was reminded of how much i missed live alternative gigs. by good bands.)

i will not fail to mention that my friend's cell phone was stolen, but this adventure is worthy of a separate post. tomorrow, i have two party invitations. i still havent figured out how i will arrange my schedule to fit both, or which one to go to if i get too lazy to attend both. OR WHAT TO WEAR. (i actually turn down parties! my life has got to be good. i should start feeling this.)

but that will have to wait because i just got home and have just finished typing my homework for later. i've already crammed my reading asignment as well and according to the manual, what i'm writing right now is the familiar essay.

there. the week: basically two weekends juxtaposed. feel the rhythm. it's an iamb, i surmise. i have no other recourse but to make the most out of this. to enjoy my freshly assumed status: fully-fledged scum of the universe, minor godess of pain and beauty.

posted by carl @ 4:24 AM