A real brush with celebrity

Ale, your name's with mine this time. If you're willing to know, it's your photo that's on the feature on INQ7.net. Seriously, you're name's even there, for I asked the writer, Joey Alarilla, to include it there. Obviously I love your photo. (It's freaky though, that your name's on, as Nico put it against Kim, caps lock.)

So there. The Upper Blog gets celebrity. A big thank you to the guys at INQ7.net!

So today's our last swimming class, which almost didn't push through because Sir Ariz wasn't there yet. To be exact, it was past thirty minutes, and school rules state we can technically leave, but on one is budging because no one wants to go back to the swimming pool next week. (Yes, we're this quick to budge when it comes to vacations. As Jan said, everything's incomplete without summer.) At 15.40, more than an hour after our supposed start, he arrived, fresh from a faculty meeting, and proceeded with another truncated final exam. Which means - yes - I got a 4.0. Finally.

Then I was off to the Literature Department with Lei, Nikki, Hector, Jonathan and Allen to discuss a poem - in this case, To The Man I Married - and my groupmates, as well as Miss Wright, was pointing out my apparent digging of personal experiences in the discussion. Who could help it? That's how you read literature. So, to those having a hard time writing their term papers (especially for those I know writing on Smaller and Smaller Circles), that's some advice weeks overdue.

Yeah, bang me in the head. I'll tilt.

Come Monday, the last two days of formal classes - and that of the term - and come finals week, I'll barely do anything, except for submitting a final paper for Philosophy 2 on Wednesday and going back to get a couple of course cards on Friday. Which means, it's another fragmented six-week vacation. Well, it's better than four weeks.

I found that piece of paper I was supposed to blog this week, and I guess I'll just edit it a bit and it'll be up for the world to see. Now that's something I can really brag about.

And your responses...

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