Going back to more important matters, hell week is coming. But why am I here making that announcement when I should be doing more important things?

For starters, I'm still in the middle of talking to people for my final article for our print production project. Since I can't get online at home for three days now, I decided to check up on everything this afternoon at some Internet café, but when I got home, apparently, the person I was supposed to talk to just left. I have my aunt, yes, and I'm wondering whether Ella is also registered - I'm not that righteous after all, but they're still from Bacoor, so that counts - but still, I felt like following my self-set Monday night deadline, just as I worry about what Burton intends to do. If only getting Lizette's phone number helps, but Rosario - the town where she lives - is apparently thirty minutes away, although when we went there for a vacation it took us two hours to arrive. And Rosario is different from Bacoor.

At least I got things ready, at least partly. Five out of eight enlargements for my portfolio, and two out of ten for my photo essay (which looks sooo good, and for some reason I've got to give credit to Charmaine for, err, donating a filter), and I've got two weeks - well, almost - to work on the remainder. The other two photos are colored, so that's nothing to worry about. Maybe there's double-sided tape, and enlarger reservations, and missing filters, and missing photos (as was the case with Karla), and then there's mood swings from inhaling a lot of fumes. I'm getting used to the dark, and to the extra contacts, considering my efforts to uncover crimes committed, which makes me a backstaber, somehow.

Radio production isn't even a worry. I know, I missed up my first draft, but I've got the entire week to finish it. I've been listening to radio dramas yesterday afternoon, about lost love and paid regrets, and somehow one of the voices got to me. I wish I was like that - extremely effective, and extremely influential. Well, not really. I know I couldn't manage the pressure. I'm thinking of joining the Student Council again, on the same position, and somehow I can't help but feel the pressure because it's quite different. And there'll definitely be new people around. As if matching outfits with Osang - like with Sarah last year, no doubt - makes a difference.

So, why am I still blogging? Suddenly I'm lost on a Sunday. In the middle of chatting with Jaja and Lizette, answering a phone call from Ella and greeting Alyssa on her seventeenth, I'm anxious as to whether I'd be able to do everything I have so meticulously planned. Sure, I don't have a planner, but I have a plan, still, and it's stuck in my head. So stuck, in fact, that it led me to think that my schedule is an ethos that should be strictly adhered to. Then again, that's what it's supposed to be.

I just realized that I am so, so lost today - so foolish, like the people halfway around the world being pranked - like Lizette, but then again, it's a Sunday. I wouldn't mind. Monday is a different thing - statistics, ethics, and the occasional greeting I never get to send out. I can feel the earth shift beneath me. Oooh, it feels quite good.

And your responses...

Post a Comment