It's obvious our final output for investigative journalism class is, well, an investigative report. For documentary film class, well, it's not an actual documentary, but more of a concept for one. Research-based, nevertheless, but it's one down of sorts.
Inevitably I am starting to feel lazy. I think there's something wrong with the last term break; I used to be able to shake these sentiments off by the first day of school, but today, I spent around nine hours in school and never felt any more motivated to work. Probably whatever people construe as sheer geekiness, I can attribute to hyperactivity.
For one, I haven't honestly started on a screenplay. Sure, I am very much aware that I'm doing it alone for the most part, but somehow I feel the need to story conferences and the occasional little bug from Jason. Last term, in contrast, I immediately went to work on my first screenplay - the perfunctory one discussing crushes - and had a loose concept in three hours, and had something concrete in ten days. But that one's three pages long, and this one might reach twenty, more or less.
To be honest, I have a feeling that we should be working hard at this point. Instead, after reading stuff on the Watergate scandal, I'm blogging while talking to Alyssa about another inevitably subject, at least on her part: astrology. Sure, Miss Bacalla gave us two weeks to think of topics we'd write about, and I have a thesis consultation to deal with first thing tomorrow - and these things usually worry me, but now I am, well, blogging when the world screams "busy" and grasps for breath.
Thankfully, today was another return to familiar faces. It seems like a redux of last term, to some extent. Naomi had her hair fixed - just a blow dry, with a guarantee that tomorrow it will be, as Miss Trini put it, "malago" - and Kat was, well, still Kat. The story of the day is the seeming difference in variation of people I've to mingle with for the next thirteen weeks. Jason isn't in my class, instead taking tomorrow's class with Miss Rica, which means there won't be much aesthetic discussion on Nanook of the North, unless Jose decides to speak up. In fact, my classes seem to be more of a "best of" thing, only with the actual best bits not included.
Investigative journalism class, for instance, feels weird without the LIA-COM students, although I very much know that they can't take the class, and they won't if they could. In their place, other people who've either been more successful in my campus journalism sojourns (Celine, Jem and Carlo) or more unable to choose a course of their liking (for some reason, Icka comes to mind). Then Miss Bacalla proceeds to start the class with the same quoted speech she started last term off, discussing journalism's contribution to public discourse. Without Tina, or Loui, or Marcia, or the person most frequently mentioned on this blog as of late, I resorted to watching Burton wait for a break, and get none.
Or maybe I feel this way because Tuesdays would mean Jamaican patties for lunch. I do have world history class in between two electives, which means no decent lunch break. (That's the trade-off for aiming for investigative journalism class.) Edsel, Anna and Cuyeg were in that class, and Iza didn't attend, but chances of a CAM-only group quickly gets shattered with the alphabetical arrangement. Insert a cold Mooie on the corner of the room, being first in line. I happen to get the seat directly in front of Sir Santiago.
You can say most of today relied on me making sense of my schedule and my energy supply. It's confusing - maybe I've spent it reacquainting myself with the faces I used to get used to, in every sense of the word. If that's why I feel lazy - because, for some reason, I couldn't - then maybe this term is going to be a bit weird, until things finally get snapping back to form. As far as I am concerned, though, I won't expect much.
I shall start waiting, then. Existence day begins in fifteen minutes.