"You never gave me a draft"

Jill, Malia and Sara brace for the results everybody was waiting for - the thesis proposal grade.

After my group found out that twelve days of sort-of cramming our thesis proposal - which isn't technically true, since that's all the time we had - we were so ecstatic we couldn't contain ourselves. Well, actually we did - machismo pride, maybe, a concept we've been playing with for our proposed feature. And besides, we didn't really do it like Naomi, who got approved earlier but did it after we did.

Anyway, it was a really good feeling. Suddenly hugs became tolerable, permitted, or better yet, very much allowed! If earlier in the morning my hyperactivity towards Char would be described by none other than Jose as signs of me being a pervert, this afternoon didn't seem out of place, for most of it at least.

Iza, of course, would hug Jason. Yas would do the same for Cuyeg. I was literally in the middle, and eventually I had to ask that question in jest. "Bakit walang naghu-hug sakin?"

So, fine, they relented, and the two girls both gave me one.

But even more surreal was when the three of us were hugging each other. Machismo pride? You can throw it out of the window. Although I believe there's nothing wrong with hugging other people, even if it may look spiffy from another's perspective, it still felt weird. Jason, for instance, isn't really like this. Maybe I still have to get used to seeing his mushy, cheesy, romantic side, but hey, it's utter happiness that we passed our thesis proposal!

I was looking at the submitted and checked copy on the bus ride home, and eventually realized that, well, most of the comments Sir Mariano had pertained to grammar. Understandably so - I knew my grammar was failing the moment we started working on this proposal. I was in charge of writing the entire thing, and aside from making sure the proposal flowed well, I also had to edit whatever Jason and Cuyeg sent me. There was this one question about us incorporating the past somewhere, though. But more of the ecstatic feeling has come my way - maybe it's the fountain pen he's used to write these comments.

"Bring this draft on your first meeting, 2008."

And in gold, the magic number. Three flat.

Tonight the world is finally in the mood to celebrate Christmas. There are still some complaints, but at least, for the most part, everybody is happy that their efforts have paid off. Half my world is on a Christmas party, although I think it's reserved for the ultra-sociable ones - now I'm one with the world in proclaiming, "finally, sleeeeep!" I have ended up chatting with Marcia and Leslie about totally disparate things, and finally I don't feel guilty about it. Sure, I am more frequently forced to sleep early and wake up late for no reason - my body still thinks I should not stop - but I know it's something I very much deserve. Actually, everybody does.

Maybe it's time I gave myself a chance. After all, for some reason the world agrees with me and are actually doing things in a way that's unusually different. And I actually forgot about the one thing I thought would propel me to disgrace. Heck, people still set standards - no wonder Mae's got a 3.5 in their proposal.

Oh, wait - the standards thing was Jason's joke.

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