Publicly private pratter

A relationship is like ice cream. Leave it under the sun and the bonds break away. Keep things cool and it becomes more enjoyable.

I rarely talk about my schedule, but since first days are opportunities for new things, I'm going to do just that. But honestly, it's because I've been thinking about time management for the first time since I started college! Thank the teachers for thinking about teaching us that, along with Mang Jack's classroom appearances and our wide-eyed anticipation for the three-heart rule, but it never made sense until now.

Tomorrow morning, I'm going to enlist for my last community service program. Out of all surprises, Miss Saulo is heading two advocacies and, naturally, the CAM students would go for her, simply because of the familiarity. There have also been feelers that we'd be doing photo essays under her, which is a natural thing since she taught me basic photography. Only twenty-five slots are available, but it's John who has to worry, since he's got classes when I try to get in.

The same afternoon, I'm going to study for my first test in religion class. All the stuff about social justice must come into play. My nightly surprise came from Dastine and Reena, who both asked me about what's to happen tomorrow - seems they have forgotten. Even worse, the site where we'd get the slide show has reached its maximum allowable bandwidth and is thus inaccessible. If only the URLs weren't so confusing - it's one thing I forgot. At least I got the more important handouts, our lifeline for the entire term.

Wednesday, and it's reporting time for advanced radio again. Our group managed to cram calling RMN for extra information, because the website isn't obviously enough. The phone calls would come tomorrow, because I wouldn't call, thanks to my location. I'd only do the unglamorous job of compiling everything, and maybe I'd also have to rush Anna when things get extraordinarily wrong.

After that, there's my secret project (so far) with Jackie and Trix. I will never spill until it's over, but it's a revisiting of sorts, if there's something to revisit. But then I'd have to go back to school for thesis consultation with Sir Mariano - I have to show up because I wasn't there last time! - and, after that, a meeting with Sir Doy regarding the Media Speaker Series for society class.

Thursday depends on what happens tomorrow. Maybe another fifty-word story.

Friday, and there's the reflection paper for journalism class. Did anybody pay attention to what Carmela Fonbuena said last week? I know I did. At least we got more people reciting, and sensible questions at that. There's also the, err, "discussion guide" I have to prepare regarding truth in journalism, and if I'm supposed to do it on my long free period on Wednesday, well, that's impossible. There's no free period!

That day could be a compensation, though. We won't have society class due to a previous commitment Sir Doy has with a Pepot Artista screening. A much-deserved rest, I think, after we rush to have our topic proposals signed and submitted - that'd be the morning before M209 closes for lunch. Maybe we'd talk then, though, either for the Media Speaker Series, or how we'd defend our topic proposals, or how we'd spend the weekend.

Oh wait, there is the retreat during the weekend. Block bonding, as Jackie insisted on happening, although not everybody would be there.

What about today, you say? Well, I realized I have a lot of things to do, thus the nine paragraphs previous to this one. I collected payments again, for Marshall McLuhan's comeback, and before that, there was Anna hitting me in the back with her jacket, still in glee that we won against Ateneo. "We won!" she reiterated, with a very wide grin that I surprisingly saw in the dark.

Ranice said it right. The hangover is still not over.

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