Just keep telling me facts

Suddenly Valentine's Day hits closer to home when someone decides to serenade Joy. Everybody seems to love these kind of stories - who can help it?

For the past week, I thought I was safe from everything that makes the last day of the second week of the second month of the year annoying as crap. The closest I probably got was seeing Edsel rehearse that ubiquitous Dashboard Confessional song, for one of those who paid them earlier to serenade someone.

Thing was, something of that sort would happen closer to home. Access was being negotiated as we finished watching 9/11, and as Sir Doy dismissed our class, someone anonymous decided to wax sentimental over Joy. "You define beauty," that guy said, and he proceeded to have one from the DLSU Chorale sing a song I haven't heard before. Of course, we were all swooning afterwards, not because it happened, but probably because nobody thought it would happen to someone close to us.

Not that I am bitter. Actually, I don't have a reason to be so, although for the past three weeks I myself have been waxing sentimental over someone. When I got in school, though, to wait for M208 to open up, things were just flat out plain. Besides, it's a Thursday, and there's nothing to anticipate about. It must suck to be the last day of a four-day class week, and be nothing special, right?

The campus looked a bit different, however. Every booth in the bazaar and every woman pretty enough to be attention-grabbing had a rose, or a bouquet of roses, in their possession. The guys assertive enough to have a girlfriend looked a bit more prepped up. Put the two together, and you have a couple, walking along Miguel Walk, holding hands, one smiling a bit wider than usual.

Bitter? Maybe. I'm the type who usually gets annoyed at the idea of people celebrating something that only they have. Heck, even my choice of clothes have attracted the attention of the capitalists - who doesn't know that "black is the new red" thing drilling in our heads? But, unlike last year, when I was pretty bitchy in asserting my not celebrating Valentine's Day, I was pretty polite. "Thank you" was the new order, among the few people who found a need to greet me. "Happy hearts day," Veia told me, for one. Without even trying, I answered, "shouldn't we be celebrating hearts day every day? It pumps blood to our body every day..."

Aside from that, Thursday went by pretty ordinarily. Of course, we had our own share of couple and flowers. Leslie came to class with a big bunch, and noticably with blush-on, but I never really noticed it. Clarence was more noticable, and because she never usually wore denim mini-skirts to school, although I sensed she was fresh from the bathroom because her hair was visibly half-wet. It was just one of those days when I go home early and sleep the rest of the afternoon away - one thing I really needed, because I only had an hour's worth of sleep.

I was late for world history class, although when I arrived there weren't much people either. Edsel went in earlier than me, despite having to serenade someone else from Andrew. It was the usual transformative learning stuff I've learned to get used to, especially since we've got a report coming up in a week or so. The usual stuff, really - rubrics, plans of inquiry, an unusually hyperactive demeanor. There was Iza greeting me and giving me a hug, but that was it. I felt cornered at that moment, but, then again, people can be nice, too.

There never really was an effort to try to live with the fact that some people prefer to celebrate love with money on the fourteenth of February. I never really braced myself for it; in fact, I thought I'd end up doing something stupid, at least by my definition. If anything was different, it's me not having lunch until around two in the afternoon, instead giving the time to the much-dreaded jail booth. Thankfully, (the other) Mon wasn't in the mood to catch people too, and had to leave early to boot, so we spent half an hour talking about political parties and couples holding hands. Indeed, there is hope for the single on what some prefer to call "single awareness day" - although it depends on how you define single - you can just go through things, have fun (as Lizette insisted on a delay) and wake up the next day, thinking everything would return to normal. In my case, I had to get some lunch before that happens.

Oh, by the way, have I told you Misha greeted me a happy Valentine's, too?

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