12/06/2007
The mushroom says hello

Nobody called this week hell week until last night, or early this morning.

But the inevitable has happened. I have stayed awake until 04.00 last Wednesday to finish the paperwork for advanced radio production class (which we never submitted anyway) and slept that afternoon four four extra hours. Last night I was awake until 02.00 finishing a screenplay half-inspired by my solo Quezon City trip last Tuesday.

Yes, I am supposed to be fatigued and all, but as the folks at my morning show put it, I am a mushroom, appearing just about everywhere. Luckily for me I have gotten over three final requirements and am given more time to work on our thesis proposal and my final paper for journalism class. But this means I show up in the most unusual of places - or maybe I have lost my sense of time. I got home at 21.00 today, after capturing what transpired from my IPER trip, and tomorrow I'm finally getting an interview for that darned paper - well, you can call me a free loader now, but Nadia opened her doors.

But the most important thing's got to be that thesis proposal. So far we're bumbling and, personally, I am not content. Eleven pages? Our related literature review's clocking at four pages when double-spaced. We're going to school on Saturday to get more references and hopefully push our proposal past the twenty-page mark. It's more important now that we, for some reason, can't get to set an appointment with Sir Mariano - just when we were to reserve a slot, the schedule disappears from his pigeonhole. The same was the case today, and tomorrow he won't be around. Come Monday, we'd be submitting a proposal that never got checked as a draft - and barely got consulted on.

Don't blame us for being obsessive-compulsive as of late. Finally I got the swing of working on our thesis proposal - yes, it has arrived late - and the (incomplete as of yet) eleven pages we managed to squeeze out of our notes, our heads, our fallacies and Iza's MacBook slowly start looking coherent. The next thing we all wished is to have a laptop and be able to work for five days straight like Toni, Kizia and Jaja did. So far they're almost finished, as some say - but a little assurance for us is that our mentor, or so we inferred, isn't much on the number of pages, but on the content.

Somehow, though, it feels that things are slowly going wrong. Slowly, but not surely.

Lately I've started acting more skeptical. I've debunked ideas and arguments about ideas I've debunked. Sure, it feels weird having your routines nixed in favor of a new one practically overnight. Suddenly I was thinking of credibility along the lines of whether one thing is possible or not - our last concept proposals still say some aspects can be unbelievable. And now some say any one of us can get disapproved on the basis of the thesis proposal itself. Roll eyes, stop complaining, get back to work.

There are some things that still surprise me lately. One, you don't know whether everybody around you is happily suggesting things, or slightly hinting at your incompetence. Two, I've been reverting to two years ago - not the interest nor the actions, but the nostalgia. It seems that unconsciously I want a stop to the madness, or something to that effect. Maybe just go back to sleep.

No wonder my YM window seems empty. The three have finished!

So, a healthy (or otherwise, more probably) sense of skepticism, maybe paranoia, maybe an empty wallet beckoning. Maybe the feeling that I have been dragged across, my ego bruised further, my head in a spin, the world not caring, and me still wanting otherwise. The funny thing about my last class today was that cute girl telling me they'd all leave because there wasn't any time. Three hours later it's somebody else misinterpreted. Two hours later I'm wondering why it's changed before I can ask things to do so.

Tomorrow's a busy day, actually. Editing that IPER video, the interview Nadia arranged, more thesis stuff, and the Vertical Horizon concert with Karla. Once I get home I got to prepare for the next day, and the next term. Now seems impossible, but tomorrow hopefully isn't.

Else I become a mushroom. Or, as Edsel flipped it around, a daisy.

And your responses...

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