how do i hate 28? let me count the ways...

six hours earlier, i retired myself to a queasy hibernation after my mother gleefully remarked that i looked like an Igorot as she greeted me at the doorstep. and that was it. with my native-looking headband that strangely takes its roots all the way from Japan and my bouncing iron-curled hair still primly fashioned on my apex, i reluctantly went upstairs without a single word. another six troubling hours earlier, i lost my four-year-old school ID somewhere on the cigarette-butt flooded Dapitan steet. something must be extremely wrong with 28...

as much as i would like to dismiss this thought, i simply could not help it. i myself do not subscribe to feng shui and the rest of the occult-smothered fortune telling schemes, but the thing is, i am persistently endowed with an indistinguishable first-hand misfortune every, before, and after 28, and whether or not i am thinking of it, hell and earth never miss their commitment to give me that slimy shit, that sometimes i feel i can even transmit the relatively undeserved bad luck to persons i am with.

i hate 28 as much as i hate bugs and cockroaches, and people who aren't responsible enough to keep their wet umbrellas shut when walking on a covered pathway. i hate 28 as much as i hate big chunks of ginger and garlic on my food, and children who touch your knees when making their way inside public transportation. i hate 28 as much as i loathe muds of spit on the trodden path, cherry-topped with some yellowish slimy phlegm. i hate 28 as much as i hate chewed bubblegum on my skirt, the snatcher of my phone, and people who flaunt their English on streets, subways, and in places like Quiapo and Divisoria. and for the creamiest crap, i hate 28 as much as i hate the terribly no-brainer commercials, soap operas, and films in the Philippines, particularly that possessed Tiki-Tiki ad, the frenzy Gagambino, and the ultimate summary of downright Pinoy psychological error, KC and Richard's When I Met You.

2008 is yet the most dreadful year i struggled to survive-- faulty termination and a series of unfortunate, i mean UNFORTUNATE, very unfortunate (did i say unfortunate?) events. 2008=28. and if my memory serves me well, the first time i had this shedding of my uterine lining accompanied by excruciating cramps, which i naively thought of as a C-level diarrhea, minus all the BM, was on the 28th of January when i was in grade five. but menstruation isn't really an unfortunate event in womanhood, although disturbing and distressing. and maybe i was not at all unfortunate every 28. maybe i really have to thank this day for giving me an excuse for my inherent idiocy and absent-mindedness. and if you happen to be born on the 28th of any effing month or if you're into celebrating whatever event on the same date, i'm sorry for wasting three minutes of your time and for relentlessly dissing you special date, but... it's 28 and i'm in deep shit!

sweet potatoes

scientific name: ipomoea batatas
sa Tagalog, KAMOTE.

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lately i've been having difficulties in writing. i believe it's not because i've been running out of things to say. in fact, whenever i'm slapped with a certain topic, a web of intertwined ideas clutter my brain; too much, that i do not seem to know how to put them into words. so i end up thinking and planning carefully how to sort them, until the time is up and all that's left is will, coupled with my mastery of procrastination, and Jesus Christ. wow. one must know that most sacrilegious writers and writer wannabes suddenly become religious roughly an hour before the deadline.

beyond the wee hours of idle daydreaming and planning how to make a manuscript less stupid in the critical eyes of professors—

(random: talk about being OC. upon checking if the term "wee" would properly address my thoughts, i stumbled upon this thing in urban dictionary:

wee - the time spent in your life peeing

i wasted my life in the wee hours tags: pee, time, bathroom, life, important) rotflmao!

—i find it more convenient to read books and magazines, look at old pictures and make silly slideshows, or update this multiply site. holy cow! i'm less than 20 days away from finally getting this shit off, and until now i still regret (sometimes) having worked only to lose my drive in studying, thinking that i could have done better than those it's-a-little-point-zero-three to dean's list, and that 3s in those subjects i swallowed like bitter pills because i stubbornly did not want them like that lame PGC and Pol Dy are beyond repair, so why waste my effort when i know there's no silver tint at the end of my effin' gay rainbow? i can really be such a pessimist at times. i'm not a fan of numbers, but i know i could have made it only if i willed, but i did not, and this remorse is buggin' me 16 days before classes end. sweet Jesus!

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our supposed thesis defense day is over, but not yet the "grilling of asses and butchering of students alive," as how my friend Jaycee puts it. good thing Sir Nikki Salandanan, one of our panelists (i intended to put this thing near Jaycee's name for good luck. yiii!), who was all crabbed and harassed last night after nearly 12 hours of baking the balls of hopeful kids, agreed to call our presentation off and move it tomorrow, this time, with the other panelist, so it would be easier for his part, and so was heaven's grace for us.

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28 is my "malas day" and not friday the 13th. i've celebrated a couple of birthdays that fell on this widely-anathematized day, but hey! i'm still alive!

in a hopeless attempt to dispose off my P68-resume, my friend-slash-thesis-mate Joseinne and I signed up in any, i mean ANY participating company in the job fair, just because Reuters' booth was not manned (but we placed our resumes at the table anyway) and Inquirer's was, to our dismay, all emptied; plus, the other publishing companies have already packed up. imagine us applying in Ayala Land Corporation. what the heck are we going to do there? sell houses? write PR newsletters or make advertorials for houses? we just did not think any job would suit us there, but we signed up anyway instead of going for Maynilad or 7-11.

and my friend? well, she ended up submitting her last copy of resume in the Kumon booth. holy guacamole!

then i suddenly remembered that my cover letter was like "I am seeking to align myself with one of the most respected news agencies in the Philippines today." come on, Ayala Land!

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and i thought i was lucky on friday the 13th...