These arms will not be taught to need another's

Let's just say things are going well.

My English presentation - involving, well, a CD player, a burned but skipping CD of A Perfect Circle (through Kevin) and my Missy Higgins CD. I played tracks from the two (although we had to cut short The Outside because, well, it's skipping) and tried to ask for reactions from the class. My topic was music therapy, but it seemed to be more of a music discussion show (like Roundtable). We were talking about all sorts of reactions from the many blockmates present.

And, yey, someone liked my report. All the time I thought it would be boring considering the Missy Higgins song I chose to play (obviously The Special Two) would make the best of my classmates sleep. I unknowingly struck a chord: the sentimental chord.

So, before Huey complimented my report, I was talking sentimental and rock (and I Feel Good - the one that goes tara-tara-tara-nan - which Sudoy said makes him feel good) with the people who chose to answer my question, and a few others who never got to answer (no wonder Huey was particularly interested). So, now I know Kaymee goes for sentimental songs, Les likes Hilary Duff's Someone's Watching Over Me (but I think I got it wrong), and Caresse is a big The Corrs fan.

And, also, the weird fact (and I actually find this funny - and, obviously, curious) that upbeat songs make Ale dance anywhere. Anywhere. (Trust me, she said so.)

Eeeek, another special mention.

So today I find myself barraged with a lot of requests to borrow the CD I brought along, especially from Huey and Les. It's just now that I realized that song is a love song, when all along I thought of it as a friendship song. (Or maybe it's because K-Zone said so. That's partly a euphemism.) Also, I found myself borrowing from Les the soundtrack to 50 First Dates. And, in the end, a huge breather.

I gotta do something else. I'm gonna be busy for the next few hours or so. For now, go figure out the things I've kept on saying.

Obviously I've got nothing to write. This is all but an excuse.

And your responses...

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