For the second time in a row I woke up at 7 AM. Today's occasion: go to school!!!!

But nooooo. Not yet. First I ate breakfast (duh). I was not up for rice. Then I took a bath (also duh) which I also did not feel like doing but had to because we had to go meet the principal. After debating on what to wear I chose my favourite brown long thing with the bolero which I have worn a million times on a million important occasions and denims. Also sandals. While I was doing that the song "When the Saints Go Marching in" crept into my head. I do not know why.

First me and the fam went to St. Martin de Porres School to see about my sis (who's going to seventh grade btw) but the principal wasn't there. Me and my sisters explored. It looks like what you see in movies only we were stuck to kindergarten classrooms 'cause we couldn't go up since the school is closed.

Then after the principal failed to arrive we went to MY SCHOOL!!!!!!!!! It's shaped in a P and is a bus ride and a short (meaning long) walk away. How nice in winter.

Met up with the VP and decided on which courses to take. Went with Arielle which is still unfair but I have to get used to and talked about which ones we wanted (not the same as much as possible). There was another girl there, a blonde, who took a look at what we were doing which was filling up forms and asked us if we were transfering schools. I said we just moved to Canada, continued to write, then when confused asked

"What's Integrated Technology?" She took the book and explained

"Take a look at the grade ten and eleven courses and if you'd like to take these" - indicating tech courses - "you have to start with Integrated Technology."

Oh.

Then I wrote again, Visual Arts first choice, Integrated Tech second, Business third, Drama fourth, Music fifth. I know I took piano but I suck at reading notes and besides, I'm out of practice and if they make me sing they'll be putting themselves in danger of perforated eardrums.

To make conversation I asked, "Are you transfering here too?"

"Pardon?"

"Are you transfering here too?"

"No, I have an interview. I'm going to be teaching religion."

Oh wow! And my next question was going to be "What grade are you in?"

I hope she'll be my teacher. If she gets accepted anyway. She's really nice and really pretty (fashionably dressed, non-acned, and young). Better watch out for boys! I actually thought she was seventeen or something.

VP called us back and made conversation with the parentals (I am going back tomorrow for guidance counseling and uniform-buying), then we went. I said to the nice blonde who I hoped was going to be my teacher that it was nice to meet her and she said good luck. I can't believe it, I really did think she was a teenager. She must at least be twenty-one. I didn't catch her name but oh well. See her in religion class!

Went back to St. Martin and got my sister's records straight. Then went with Dad and Arielle to the library, where I'm at now.

See ya! Belated post later on the really great day in Brampton! Hey, I am making good progress and meeting lots of new people. The BOMB!!!!!

Memory is an old friend. I welcome it with open arms, but sometimes I push it away and not let it come near.

Most of the time I choose to do the latter. Why? For a girl like me who never wants to forget, why? Why do I bother to make daily diary entries? Why do I choose to update my blog? Why do I spend hours finishing a [somewhat] useless scrapbook? If I don't want memories to come, why do I preserve them?

I don't want to forget. There are many days, many times, that are part of my memories that are close to my heart that I never want to forget: the day I laughed at this joke, the day I went to that place. The time I was depressed, the time I'd never felt so alive. And yet the ones I choose to remember are those that are not really important: dates.

Dates and memories are not really contrasts; they are part of each other, but they can exist without the other. Dates are important to me. I'm somewhat famous in my family for being able to remember such things, and I'd usually come up with "Do you remember that time when...it was on the 12th of May." or "Today last year we were at..." Being able to remember dates is kind of my special ability (which is why I love history), because they are my way of holding on to the past. Dates are just numbers. They are empty.

Memories are not. Memories are the ones that fill dates, that happen in between those numbers, every second, minute, and hour of the day. Memories are different. They do not need dates to exist. All you need to remember are the basics: that you were a kid, that this-and-that happened. No need for useless numbers.

Dates are harder to remember, but I choose them over memories. Why? Because memories are painful - I have never quite learned to let go properly, or to say goodbye, so I choose to let it pass without feeling anything. Days later I will remember where I was and what I was doing (but never what I went through), fall into the new routine, and not relive anything from that date. That's the main reason why I rarely miss anything. Saves me from somewhat unnecessary tears. Once it's gone, it's gone.

Quick. Easy. Painless.

There are some days memory comes to me and, no matter how much I resist, floods over me. Sometimes I take out mementos on impulse. I hate these days, memories are so uncontrollable! That and the feelings they bring: helplessness at not being able to change things, embarrassment or regret for what's been done, sadness for things past.

In short, pain.

Taking a walk down kioku no michi, as my sister calls it, is no hobby of mine. Not my favourite, but I can't help it sometimes. Today I read the blog of an old friend. I was so struck by the fact that two years had passed and so much had happened since then - stuff I tried not to feel - that I wrote my stat on Friendster: "have you ever thought about how far we've come? ang layo na kaya.. two years is a lot, especially in high school."

Hello, memory, old friend.

Me in the same batch as my younger sister?! No way, man.

We went downtown with Tita Cristy and Tito Raul today to take the placement test. I finally saw the other part of Toronto, the "city" part, with the Bata Shoe Museum, the CN Tower, Bloor Street, and other stuff you might find in guide books.

So shortly after we got to the place (Loreto College or something) my sis and I were made to write the usual details on a piece of paper. And then this Vietnamese guy, his name was Henry, put in Grade Nine on both of our papers. At first I was okay with it, since I won't be alone when I get there, but graduate at the same time as my younger sister? Give me a break. I mean, how loser-ish is that?

The test was pretty easy, though. Except for Math. Area, perimeter, all these were lost on me. For a moment there I even forgot how to do fractions - and I've been doing them for the past eight years!

Nevertheless, we both still managed, because of good English to make it to our selected school, Pope John Paul II C.S.S. If we didn't we would've been sent to Jean Vanier. Phew then, we'd have our cousin Monica to guide us along. But still. Ninth grade, with my sister. We both fear competition, even if we are not actually competing. People might look [at me, namely] and say, "Oh, you're in the same grade then?" and compare my grades with hers. The problem is, we are both good, maybe equally so. Both of us are honour students and we are in the same career path. There is no competition, but other people might think there is. And then we might begin to see that we're being compared, compete, and affect our sisterhood.

So you see how that just ruins things? They can't put me in tenth grade and I don't want them to, because the tenth-graders might already have their groups and I might not fit in. I'm glad I'm going to school with my sister so I won't be alone, but having to be in the same grade sucks.

Anyway after all that we went to Eglinton Square in where else, Eglinton. Those white guys are so good-looking. Maybe mostly because I've never been around them (only Filipino guys all my life) so yeah...almost every one I saw was gorgeous. There was this guy who opened the door for me and my sis (cause they have exceptional manners here hahaha) and he and his friend were in muscle shirts or something and like, wow.

Pasta-loving me went to an Italian fastfood place that started with a V and ordered spaghetti and pizza. Their servings are HUGE! I guess, to be expected from a place like Canada. And then we went out after that and I saw another guy in a green shirt who was wow.

Next we all headed to Oshawa. I don't know my geography yet so exactly how far that is from downtown or Scarborough is still not clear to me. Anyway, Oshawa is good. Spacious, clean and new-looking. Kuya Raoul's house was still like brand-new. Everything was white. It was nice, I mean I could imagine living in it, but it was far from any good Catholic school I know. All we did there was sit and watch TV and then around 4:30 PM we left, and shopped for some groceries.

Guess that's all for now. Tomorrow might be Niagara and on Sunday cherry-picking.

So wow, I actually managed to go to school.

I thought we (Nadine, Arielle, and I) were going on Friday, which is tomorrow. But then as always, it was announced at the last minute that we were to go on Thursday, which is today.

It's not that I was dreading going to school. It's not that I couldn't sleep the night before. What would I have to worry about? What reason would I have to stay up all night?

Nothing. Nothing.

After all, what is one hour, or even one minute, compared to one whole month? I can't let that incident ruin me. I did survive Ferbruary to March, didn't I? I did it without her, didn't I?

What do I have to worry about? It's not like I would see her anyway, right? Okay, there is a 99% chance I will. But so what? I can choose to ignore her, just like I did for a whole month.

It's over now. It was over even then. I didn't let it stop me from enjoying the rest of the year, and I'm not about to let it stop me from seeing forty three other people worth seeing. Which is, the rest of Section 27.

Dad brought us to school at 7 AM. I saw the school bus when we got there. And Smrz. Of course my sisters and I were all in conspicuous civilian, but that didn't matter since we were just there to say goodbye and to fix papers. Nadine went to her sixth-grade class (St. Luke) while Arielle and I and Dad stayed at the canteen because the daily flag ceremony was going on. We stayed there till recess with Nadine, drawing and writing and going insane (except for Daddy, who was busy reading).

And then at around 9:20 we went out to wait by the side entrance and Section 31 came out. I first saw Roselyn. Then I saw her. I'm not one to take revenge or hold grudges, so I ignored her. Unfortunately she is classmates with a lot of 27 people, including Roselyn. But I will also choose to ignore that fact since like I said, it was over long ago.

I'll admit though that I had this scene in mind: if she is with people I know, I will talk to all of them except her. But I'm not that evil. So I didn't follow.

I said hi to, and/or saw, the following people: Martha (first-year busmate); Lia (fourth-year busmate); Roselyn; Kristina; Kryslette; Theresa; Aubrey; Jessa; Wesly; Cahren; Mark; Ian; Paolo; JM; Mario; and Ricardo and Daphne (former classmates from 17). And like I somewhat predicted, I saw little brother too. (!!!)

Well, it went better than I thought it would. Not so awkward at all. In fact, I enjoyed seeing them all again. And except for that I saw her out of the corner of my eye, nothing went wrong.

After saying hi/goodbye to them, I went with Nadine to Grade Six.

It's air-conditioned already. With corridors and everything. The classrooms are closed off. They look like real ones now.

Oh lucky them! Not counting the many happy memories I had in Grade Six, the year I was there was boring. Maybe because of the hot, hot temperature inside the rooms.

Anyway, I donated my old books and uniforms to College after that, bought a San Beda sticker, and got my slippers ripped.

I walked barefoot on the hot pavement, ran, got caught by the guard, and jumped over roped-off areas.

Lovely last-day memories.

Time to go swimming! Makakabili na ulet ako nung Sunsilk Summer Fresh hahahaha. Might as well go crazy under the sun this time, baka dun kasi puro snow! Joke lang di naman siguro, pero maski na. Iba ang summer sa Pilipinas eh.

Teka muna, kwento tungkol sa Hillsborough! Suki ata yung mga taga-Bene eh. Alam ko yung 23 nung Wednesday, kami Thursday, tapos di ako sure kung ngayon (Friday) yung 28 tapos Saturday ewan ko lang. Marami kasi taga Hillsborough eh. So yung nangyari...

Dumating ako dun after 12 na, tapos sila andun nung 9 pa. Late nga eh :)) tapos pagdating ko kinwento nila muntik na daw malunod si Benedict. Laughtrip talaga. :)) So yun, pagdating ko, dirediretso sa pool! Andami ko kasi kinain nung breakfast eh.

Yun paikot ikot kami ni Roselyn, 3 feet to 10 feet. Ang saya talaga! Halos lahat kami andun except si Paolo. Wait lang nag-iikot parin ako sa Multiply. Buti nalang talaga vain ang 27 andaming pics!!!

Nagkwento pa yung iba tungkol sa nangyari bago ko dumating. Sayang pala di ako nagmaaga! Nung mga 1 PM binuksan nila yung slide... tingin dun sa taas...

Nung first time ko kasama sila Cahren, Aynna and Roselyn kabit-kabit. Sigaw ako ng sigaw hahahaha...sobrang daming beses ako nagslide nang iba-ibang style. Sosyal :)) tapos nun ikot ikot ulet, usap usap...basta hindi boring!

Then mga 4:30 nag-alisan na sa pool. Naligo na yung iba or kumain (ako pareho). Yung iba naman nagpicture picture pa. Bikini babes! Hehehe.

Yung isa pang team sila Irene, Marie, Roselyn, Isabelle, at Jessa. After a while nagsub si Julian. Nakakatuwa para kaming bata! Takbuhan, tawanan at kantahan nung theme song ng team namin..."Lucky lucky me, with Rennielly". Ang saya saya talaga, nakashorts kami, tumatakbo sa gitna ng kalsada. Buti nga walang masyadong kotse sa Hillsborough eh. Pero speaking of Hillsborough pala, ang ganda ng mga street names nila nakakaelibs. Cambridge, Oxford, Buckingham, Hampton Court and may Scarborough Park! Ang British pati nung itsura. Yung Hampton parang castle tapos ang maganda pa, grass yung nasa paligid. Ang lawak din nung street kaya walang masyadong kotse. Talagang pangmayaman. Mukhang British dun hahaha :)) ang ganda!

After nung patintero, umakyat kami sa slide kasi naka-off na yun. Tapos after a while pinaalis kami dun. Balik kami sa clubhouse, tapos nagpakavain ulet!

Gosh talaga...I will miss 27 the most! I know I say this every year, but by far II-27 St. Bartholomew of Farne, under the supervision of Ms. Patricia P. Sison, DMD is THE best section I was ever (and proud to be) part of. Sobra magpicture, sayang wala masyado nung start ng schoolyear. Kung kelan end tsaka dumami! Tsk tsk.

K E E P I N T O U C H P E O P L E ! ! !

Yan kung gusto niyo makita yung buhay namin - well actually mostly last week yan eh - visit niyo yung Multiply nila:

Hahahaha...more next time! That should keep you busy kasi andami talagang pics...bukas na yung pool party post ko!

NERD!

I might be violating copyrights, but right now I don't care. We're doing Afro-Asian Literature in English and have finished with an excerpt of the Rubaiyat and a poem called Till Hearts End (which, as usual, I was too lazy to post). This one is called Telephone Conversation. It is about racism. Might give you some food for thought, so enjoy.

The price seemed reasonable, location

indifferent. The landlady swore she lived

Off premises. Nothing remained

But self-confession. "Madam," I warned,

"I hate a wasted journey - I am African."

Silence. Silenced transmission of

Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,

Lipstick-coated, long gold-rolled

Cigarette-holder piped. Caught I was, foully.

"HOW DARK?"...I had not misheard. "ARE YOU LIGHT

of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.

Red booth. Red pillar-box. Red double-tiered

Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed

By ill-mannered silence, surrender

Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.

Considerate she was, varying the emphasis

"ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came.

"You mean - like plain or milk chocolate?"

Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light

Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted, I chose

"West African sepia" - and as an afterthought,

"Down in my passport." Silence for spectroscopic

Flight of fancy, till truthfulness changed her accent

Hard on the mouthpiece "WHAT THAT?" conceding,

"DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS." "Like brunette."

"THAT DARK, ISN'T IT?" "Not altogether.

Facially I am brunette, but madam, you should see

Are a peroxide blonde. Friction, caused -

Foolishly, madam - by sitting down, has turned

My bottom, raven black - one moment Madam!" sensing

Her receiver rearing on the thunder clap

About my ears - "Madam," I pleaded, "Wouldn't

you rather see for yourself?"

I love free verse, don't you? The way sentences are left open and then continued at the next line, the way they don't rhyme, the way they talk to you and have a lot of periods. It's so inspiring. I just love free verse. :)

BELATED POST! Outreach for A.Y. 2006-2007

December 6, 2006, Wednesday

Things you can ask the inmates:
-Name
-Province
-Marital Status
-Dependents (No. of Children)
-Occupation
-How did jail change your life?
-How do you feel about our visit? Your impression of us?
-How is life in the prison?
-Hardships/trials in the prison
-Message about freedom
-Experience with God
Rules:
-No jewelry
-No gadgets (cellphones to be left at the Prefect of Students)
-And most important...silence

// //

Last year our class planted mahogany trees.

This year we had reason to get excited: we were going to New Bilibid Prison. We were supposed to go last week, on November 30, but a typhoon was on the way. This typhoon later caused thousands of deaths in the Bicol region, and a mudslide in Albay.

Anyway, I arrived in school the usual time. We had our first three classes in pants and PE shirt, and they just had to give us homework (they never let us off!) After that, we went down to the Students' Lounge for the orientation, where we were told the rules and what to ask the inmates. Then we had a very long lunch. Section 46 and another 4th year section were first to be called on the buses. There were only two.

It was an ordinary, although longer, lunch period--we played games, chattered about as usual, and played pranks on each other (our class is really noisy). Then Section 11 was called, so we got to be the last.

At around 1 PM, we finally got to ride the bus. We grabbed our donations (in my case, three to help) and ran mostly yelling to the two ManVar buses waiting outside Gate 6. We got hyper; we were excited!

Sir Manuel was on our bus. It was hilarious! I sat with Christian, Roselyn was on the other side. My busmate Roberto was on the aisle seat. Half of Section 17 was with us (Boo was there) and half was in the other bus with Section 28.

Around Madrigal, the people in the green van in front of us started laughing. It was funny, so we laughed at them too. The bus got to Daang Hari, and after a while arrived at the prison.

It was just a small gate, you wouldn't realize it led to a prison at all. And to my great surprise, it was right outside Portofino Homes. Anyway our buses were stopped and inspected; Sir Manuel said we had just gone through the employee exit. There were barbed-wire fences at least 20 feet high surrounding the correctional center. There were about two layers and they were, erm, scary-looking.

Finally, we got off the bus at a field opposite the Medium Security Camp (the sign there said that.) The first year and second year were separated and each class was arranged by number. We found out that the people in the green van before ours was a third-year band (there were no juniors in our outreach.) We were given labels. The tags ran out since there were only 150 made, and I was the 151st. Ha, ha.

Then we walked in a line to the inspection center. The guards were women, and they had big voices and crew cuts. They were also very strict. One pushed me and said "Dun ka na" after I passed the semi-inspection. There was another inspection where our pockets were searched; papers were found in mine and the guard was sort of suspicious. "Papel lang yan..." I said. There were maximum-security inmates digging in the room behind us.

Our IDs were taken at the next room. We walked on again, past other inmates, until we got to a covered court where the previous sections were.

The medium-security inmates were on a sing-and-dance program, and when we arrived they were doing a dance number. They did not look like prisoners at all. In fact, if not for the 20-foot barbed wires, it would not look like a prison at all. The inmates were like the ordinary commuters you see everyday along Service Road. That's when I realized that they were also humans. They were people. They may have killed one or two, but that didn't make them any different from us.

After the dance, other inmates performed a medley of songs. They had surprisingly good voices. They sang stuff we all knew: Kung Wala Ka and some other OPM song. It was really touching for me. They knew the same songs we knew. They were in jail, but they were singing songs by Hale (haha corny rhyme). I mean, wow.

I noticed something kind of haunting. There was a man in the middle of the line I noticed right away. His face looked pinched and he had no front teeth. I was a little bit frightened because, excuse the word, it was freaky. But he was singing with all his heart. You could tell by the way he looked up.

They were all looking up. They were all singing with their hearts. I truly believe that because I saw it. And people paid attention to them. Five others, besides the one I noticed, were missing their eyeteeth. I wouldn't call it pathetic, I didn't even think that they probably hadn't brushed in days. Like I said earlier, it was sort of haunting and touching.

That image of the formerly-hardened inmates, lacking a few teeth but singing like they meant it, would stay with me long until the visit was over. I can still see it clearly in my mind's eye.

A few numbers later and after the green-van people had performed, Mario came up front and sang Hallelujah. Kaboses nya si Bamboo... and the people went wild! Then he gave a rose to Anne. Haha. Woohoo.

And after that, the inmates did another number, in which they didn't ask us to applaud. Instead, we were to listen to the message of the song they performed. It was something called Bilangguang Walang Rehas, which in English means Cage Without Bars (it may sound corny like that because it's better and deeper in Tagalog.) I'm sorry to say I got distracted talking to my seatmate, so I have no particular reaction.

As soon as the program was over, we were to have a one-on-one session with an inmate. I was a bit nervous, because these people, after all, had committed crimes. I prayed I would have the strength/courage to talk to a criminal. I also prayed I wouldn't get one missing his front teeth.

Roselyn and I were assigned as a pair, and we got a decent-looking man as our subject. We were seated on Monoblock chairs, with the others scattered around, in the covered court.

Our inmate's name was Feliciano Sagganay (or something like that; I couldn't see his ID). He said he was from Zamboanga, which coincidentally, was Roselyn's province too. So that gave them a lot to talk about (Chavacano, where in Zamboanga they lived, etc.) The interview basically was a life-changing experience for me. We learned that Mang Feliciano was one of the "innocents" in the prison, one of those who were wrongly accused of committing a crime he didn't do. He was convicted of murdering his neighbor, which he said he never did. And you know, I believed him. This man was a father, a husband, a simple farmer who couldn't probably even scrape up enough. Like I said, he was decent-looking. He did look innocent.

And then we asked him some questions. Of course, we had to speak in Tagalog.

US: Hello po... San kayo nanggaling bago kayo napunta dito?
FELICIANO: Sa Zamboanga.
ME: May anak po ba kayo?
F: Meron. Isa. Ilang taon na kayo?
ROSELYN: 14 po.
F: Ah, ganun na rin siya.
ME: Sori po kung tinanong ko, pero ilang taon na po kayo dito?
F: Nakulong ako nung 1996... Ilan na ba yun? Apat na taon pa nga lang yung anak ko nung kinulong ako eh.
ME: Sampu... So hindi nyo na po siyang nakitang lumaki?
F: Hindi...
ME: Okey naman po kayo dito?
F: Ayos naman, pero siyempre nahihirapan. Walang bumibisita eh, lahat sila nasa Zamboanga. Tapos yung asawa ko,
may iba nang kasama. Siyempre nasa kulungan ako tapos wala na siyang kasama...
ME: Sa tingin nyo po, patas lang na pinadala kayo dito kahit hindi naman kayo yung gumawa ng krimen? (I was careful
not to say "bilangguan")
F: May natututunan naman ako dito.
R: So ano pong paborito nyong gawin?
F: Mag-aral. Marami nga akong natututunan eh. 4th year na ako.
ME: Ilang taon na kayo?
F: Ano, 38.
ME: May kaibigan naman kayo? (At this point I was running out of things to say. I elbowed Roselyn, and Mang Feliciano
was looking around...)
F: Ano yun? Medyo mahina na kasi pandinig ko eh.
ME: May kaibigan naman po kayo dito?
F: Siyempre meron. May samahan talaga.
ME: Oo siyempre meron. Hahaha...
R: Saan po kayo sa Zamboanga?
F: --said something like Talun-talon--
R: Ah, kami malapit sa airport eh.
F: Malayo kami dun.
ME (after a long pause): Tingin nyo po, bahagi ito ng plano ng Panginoon na ipadala kayo dito? Naniniwala po ba kayo
sa Panginoon?
F: Oo naman. Mahirap lang kami sa Zamboanga eh. Dito naman, nakakapag-aral pa 'ko.
ME: Pinatawad nyo na po ba yung mga naglagay sayo dito? (he was wrongly convicted of murder)
F: (and this answer touched me) Matagal ko na silang pinatawad. Hindi ako galit sa kanila.
ME: Eh yung asawa nyo?
F: Napatawad ko na rin.
ME: Nagbago po ba kayo pagkapasok nyo dito?
F: Nagbago naman.
R: Sa tingin nyo po, may pag-asa pa kayo sa kinabukasan?
F: Meron pa siguro...
ME: May mababalikan pa po ba kayo dun sa Zamboanga?
F: Wala na yung asawa ko pero andun pa yung iba.
R: Eh yung anak nyo po, san nakatira?
F: A, kasama nya yung lola nya.
ME: Ano pong impresyon nyo samin?
F: Ha?
R: Hindi nya ata maintindihan...
ME: Edi Tagalugin mo.
R (after another pause): Ano pong tingin nyo samin?
F: Mabait... para na nga kayong anak, nakwentuhan ko pa. Pag may dumating nga tapos nagpapakwento, ayoko eh. Baka
maiyak pa ako. (at this point or some other we were all tearing up a bit, including Mang Feliciano)
US: Ah.
R: Ano naman pong masasabi nyo samin?
F: "Mag-aral nang mabuti; sundan ninyo ang inyong mga magulang. Siyempre mayroon talagang pagkakataon sa buhay na
magkakamali tayo..." (munches on sandwich, offers us some which we politely decline, and sips on a doy-pack without any straw
which I think was removed for safety purposes.)

At this the bell rung, which was quite a relief because I really was running out of things to say. I said thank you about three times before the last "Thanks po. Goodbye."

You know what, I was so touched by his story that I wanted to give him my rosary bracelet. I bet that would have made an impact on him. Unfortunately, I was too attatched to it and couldn't let it go.

Haha hindi pa yan tapos. Nag camping pa kami dun sa field. Mahaba pa eh. Sorry kung magulo, copy-paste lang yan sa Notepad. And sorry na rin kung belated. :)

Hey again. Long time no see. Hulaan niyo. Yep, sira nanaman. Thursday pa daw. So in the meantime, cafe muna.

Busy week. Hindi naman sobra, pero hectic na rin. Saya. :D

Densai, wait lang. Ililink din kita, don't worry. Sulisman, hindi ko crush yun. Sabi baka nga lang eh. Sayo na rin yan Gerard. Alam kong binabasa mo to (grrr)... hindi mo kilala yun. Bwahahaha.

So I'm supposed to be doing the PA project now, but UNFORTUNATELY both of my groupmates aren't online. Ang hirap talaga ng walang PC.

Andaming project! Plus Long Test II on Thursday and Friday, so. And oo nga pala, alam ko maraming typos sa blog ko pero sori nalang. Tsaka hindi rin kita yung ibang words diba? Will fix, if have time.

Sa mga dayuhang hindi ako maintindihan, mamatay na kayo. Haha. Taglish ako magsalita eh, sabagay halos lahat naman Taglish. As much as possible, I will try to speak one language at a time. Swear.

Next time na. Bwahaha.

Anyway, Thursday last week was a pretty good day. I missed the 3:30 bus and so had to stay in school until 5:30. Actually, I almost caught it. In fact, I ran after it. Unfortunately, Kuya Edgar didn't see me and so I missed it. Bad trip pare. Haha. Gulo no? Tagalog ulit.

So I stayed in the lounge and looked through the yearbooks with my classmates. We laughed at the pictures and names of the old students. Which made me think, what if in the future, people will look at our yearbook and laugh?

Louine found somebody from our street on the 1997 copy. It turned out that the guy was my neighbor, and I didn't know! Haha. Laughtrip nun, tawa kami ng tawa.

And Friday, September 22, was Tom's birthday. Yup, the guy who plays Draco turned 19 already. Ang tanda.

So, well, gotta go, because my classmate just IMed me and told me that our PA project is due Tuesday. So will kill myself doing it instead of surfing for the next hour.

Buhbye.

PANALO BEDA! WOOHOO!!!!!!!!!