Mahiwagang Elesi

Hindi ako makapag-isip, hindi ako makapagsulat. Nakakainis. Marami akong kailangang gawin (palapit na ang finals namin, shiyet), pero hindi ko naman maumpisahan ang trabaho dahil wala ako sa mood. Susmaryosep. Naisip ko tuloy na magsulat sa Filipino. Oo, kaya ko 'tong gawin, at kaya ko siyang gawin ng maayos. Linggo ng Wika kunwari. At ako raw si Balagtas.

* * *
Hindi, loko lang. Hindi ko kayang magbalagtasan. Baka multohin pa ako rito ni Ginoong Francisco. Maabala ko pa yung kapitbahay kong pari na si John. May kukuwento nalang ako. Noong isang linggo (hindi ko na maalala kung kailan), nakausap ko si Marianne, kaibigan ko noong high school. Nasa Chicago siya ngayon - malapit-lapit na rin dito siguro, hindi tulad ng mga iba kong kaibigan na nandoon ba naman sa kabilang dulo ng mundo, sa California. Nagkuwentuhan kami, nagtawanan. At siyempre, napunta sa boys ang usapan.

Tanong niya sa akin, "So ilan na ba ang mga boys mo dyan?"

Sagot ko: "Ah... wala." At sinabi ko sa kanya na nagpapakamanang ako rito at na si Maria Clara kaya ang kausap niya. Sabi niya sa akin, hay nako, hindi na uso yan ha.

"Manang Maria Clara, live it up! Sige na."

Hmmm, masubukan nga.

* * *
Ubo ako ng ubo noong isang gabi. Exag. Akala siguro ng mga kapitbahay ko na susuka ako ng kalabaw. Hindi lang isa pero tatlo. Ganoon kalala. Pero okay na ako ngayon. Sinisipon pa rin, konti, pero okay na, pagaling na ang bata. Buti naman. Ayoko nang maging Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, at nakalipas na ang pasko.

* * *
Sumisigaw na ang sawa at galit. Gusto kong sumama sa Alapaap. Mahiwagang Elesi, tara na!

Bugging and Ants

I'm in the library right now, in my usual carrel, and I feel so restless than I can scream like a banshee and make everyone here run for their lives out of this haunted house and into Sol's dwelling, where the leaves wave, the squirrels hop, and the grass glistens and winks. I can, but I won't - I'd like to think I'm not entirely uncivilized. Oh, society! What hast thou done to the unbridled soul that was me?

* * *
I've been bugging Cortaid for the past how many minutes now, interrupting her from her work to have her look at the hot-hot-hot model pictures in Cokelover's blog or at the nature pictures in others. She's been patient and accomodating, so I have to give her a whole lot of credit for that. Not everyone can stand the brat that I can be.

And what is it with the "soul that was me" or "the brat that I can be" phrases? So verbose and unnecessary, honestly. Anyway, yesterday during lunchtime, I attended a talk about the importance of the Arts. One of the things talked about was this sociological trend towards expanding the 'self at leisure.' What I understood was that the 'self at leisure' referred to what was left after stripping away the work and other responsibilities of the person. Interesting concept, yeah? I think so. Except that I don't agree with it (assuming, of course, that the concept is as simple as it was explained). The person is not a compartmentalized bureau. It's a totality. And if you try to isolate one part, then you transform the person into something that it is not.

* * *
Earlier today, I was major stressing out about class registration for this coming fall. So many choices to make (that are themselves based on choices that I don't want to make) and so many permutations, only a few of them within my control. This is funny. In Ateneo, I was never this stressed about reg. I'd pick my classes and that was that. Literally - that was that. My college life was peppered with little trips around the world, from as near as Singapore to as far as South Africa, so out of the eight semesters that I was a Katipunan girl, I think I only personally registered for two. (Thanks once again to my awesome proxies.) Sigh. It's different now. Santa Strawberry and Kiwi Snapple and Dasani water.

* * *
My apartment's being invaded by big black ants. I know they're supposed to be lucky, so I've tried not to kill too many of them. But really, I can't help it if they do stupid things and die. Like one time, I was at the sink, washing my dishes, when this ant races to a water-filled bowl and dives in. I watch the ant. It stays on the surface and swims a bit, waving its stringy digits (what do you call ant arms?) rather frantically, occassionally bending into itself. I say to myself, I didn't know ants were like dogs - natural-born swimmers and flashy ones too. And then the ant stops moving, and I realize that I sort of killed it by not fishing it out with a spoon.

* * *
Some years ago, I forget when, I was at the kitchen sink at our house, wasting water and melting soap, all because I was bored. I saw a baby lizard crawl across the sink. Lizards don't scare me like cockroaches do, but I still didn't like it that the baby lizard was so near me. I turned the faucet on, full-blast, and then used my cupped hands to splash the lizard with water. The lizard tried to get away, but I wouldn't stop my splashing. And then it stopped moving and then sort of sidled down the drain. My playmate had gone.

I told my yaya about it, and she was horrified. Lizards are the souls of people who have died but who can't move on, she said. I believed her and prayed that I'd be forgiven for my sin.

Saving the World

It's a few minutes after midnight and the "Out Tonight" song of Rent's Mimi is blaring in my head. A few seconds ago, it was blasting on my laptop, but I stopped it midway and switched to a compilation called Sweet Soul (if it's still out in the record stores, I recommend that you guys get it). I have to sleep soon, so I'm getting myself to calm down. Besides, I was out last night, and the night before that, and the night before that. That should be enough to sustain me until Thursday rolls along. And then I can have fun again.

* * *
I didn't go to mass today. In fact, I haven't been to mass for three Sundays now. It's not mere laziness. More accurately, it's not laziness at all. It's me preventing myself from being disrespectful. Before my non-mass Sundays, I'd go to mass and then be too weak to prevent my mind from wandering off to the most inappropriate places. And I didn't like that. I know what the celebration of the Eucharist is - 13 years of Christian Living Education classes at Assumption College and 12 units of Theology at the Ateneo have taught me that much. If I can't treat the mystery of the anamnesis with the reverence it deserves, then I figure that I shouldn't be there.

My future spiritual advisor will have to help me fix this. I don't like it at all.

* * *
I saw "Darwin's Nightmare" last Friday. Wow, wow, wow. I find it amazing how Hubert Sauper used real-life events and scenes to tell the story. That's what a documentary's supposed to do, I know, but Yulie Gerstel didn't do that in her two films, "My Land Zion" and "My Terrorist," which I also saw here. In this film, my skepticism about the guy behind the camera was totally suspended for the duration of the film. When the film ended, it came crawling back, but I think that's just because it was me.

Here are some scenes from the film:










The film made me ask myself a lot of questions about myself, my country, and my life. It made me feel extremely stupid, that's what. I want to save the world, but I don't know how to. And I'd like to think that I know something about life because I'm pursuing a doctorate here, but that film made me realize that I don't know a thing. It's just like the whole debate experience, when I didn't know jack about world events, and when my partner/s would have to fill me in so I could argue. It was perfectly fine then, because I could still build decent and ocassionally kick-ass cases using reason. But this is real life now, and I'm beginning to realize that ignorance isn't funny anymore.

I can't save a world I don't know. The quest for knowledge begins.

* * *
I was planning on writing about some of the issues raised by the film, but Sweet Soul is doing its job, and I'm so sleepy and tired right now. Sigh. I lack the discipline to be a serious writer. In time, I'll crack that cookie. But right now, it's time to sleep. I'm saying good night and going. And if you got the Imogen Heap reference, you're cool.

On Salome, Joan and Me

I just got back from the laundry place, and I'm too lazy to put my clothes away. Oh well - the clothes shall wait while I entertain myself here. The clock in my computer says that it's 11 PM, while my watch says that it's 10 PM. Dratted time changes. I don't know why I'm complaining, actually; the time difference between here and home is 13 hours, so a mere hour difference shouldn't matter. And it doesn't matter. I just felt like complaining.

* * *
Last Thursday, I went to see Salome, a play written by Oscar Wilde and directed by Professor Anton Juan. Yes, the Anton Juan. For those of you who don't know, he's this hotshot Filipino director who's now teaching theater here at ND. My description doesn't do him justice at all. My readers should forgive me - it's been a long day, and I'm not in the mood to be particularly descriptive. This excerpt from the Program should say something about the play, though:

Director's Notes: Forbidden Desire
Anton Juan

"Oscar Wilde goes to the edge. He describes Salome, whose kiss is rejected by the saint (John the Baptist), as 'not just a dancing girl but the symbolic animation of undying lust, the goddess of immortal Hysteria, the accursed beauty exalted above all other beauties by the catalepsy that hardens her flesh annd steels her muscles, the Monstrous Beast, indifferent, irresponsible, insensible - poisoning like Helen of ancient myth, everything she touches.' ...

I have employed the use of certain Kyogen principles that would constitute the delight in evil and the hierarchy of power, as in the case of Cesar, Herod, the nobles, and soldiers. I have also anchored Salome's dance to the indigenous Filipino Pangalay dance, based on half-bird, half-women - figures that are monomythical throughout the world, from harpies, to angels, to saviours of human beings, but also to seductive birds of prey."

There you guys go. And here are some pictures that I found on the web:


Credit to This Website


Credit to The South Bend Tribune
Now that I think about it, Professor Anton reminds me of Professor Danton Remoto of the Ateneo de Manila University. I was privileged to have taken Professor Remoto's classes in both short-story writing and poetry when I was in my last year at Ateneo. I learned a lot from those two classes. Oh, and I took Professor Krip Yuson's short-story writing class too. Those were fun times - I felt so vulnerable and unsure of myself in those classes, but signing up for them and giving my all in them were among the best things I've done in life. I wonder if I can take Creative Writing classes here.

Last thing I'll say about the play - Ms. Olga Natividad played the role of Salome. She's a resident actor of Tanghalang Pilipino who taught at the Theater Arts Program of Ateneo. More importantly, she was the voice of Hua Ze Lei's girlfriend in Meteor Garden I and II (the Filipino version). Sing it with me - it's a small word after all...

* * *
Since I'm on a roll, talking about Pinoy Pride and all, this next section is a great, big congratulations to my friend, former Ateneo Debate Society debater Joan de Venecia, who topped the Philippine Bar Exam! This is the most comprehensive article I could find. Yeah, I'm an Inquirer kid. To Joan, if you're reading this - sorry, friend! I know your picture is rather unflattering here. So here's another article with a nicer picture of you. Er, but this contains the Mr. Perfect hirit that got Len laughing so hard that people though she was retarded. So I guess that does it for the links.

I would just like to bask in the limelight and claim that I knew that she was going to top the bar, no doubt about it. In fact, last year, when I thought I'd be taking law back home and was then having a heck of a time deciding between UP and Ateneo, the only two schools I'd applied to, I remember Cokelover (whose dad is a UP lawyer who also topped the bar) sending me a text message saying that UP had topped the bar exam. And then I excitedly texted him back to ask if it was Joan. And he said it wasn't. I felt that was odd, but I let it pass. And then I looked through the exam results in the newspaper, and her name wasn't even in there. I was like, the results can't be right. And the next time I spoke to her, I figured out that she had yet to take the bar exam. That was funny.

Since my first bar-topping prediction came true, I'm going to make two more predictions: for Batch 2008, April Morales, fellow goddess and second-year law student of Ateneo Law, will top the bar. And for Batch 2009, it's going to be Jess Lopez, former Ateneo Debate Society debater who is also in Ateneo Law. And Jess, I'm not saying this just because it was your birthday two days ago.

* * *
Let's talk about me again. This morning, I got out of bed at 10:20 AM for an 11 AM class. I didn't have time to dry my hair, so I didn't bother. I stepped out of my apartment and found that it was raining. I hate the rain. In a previous post, I said I hated snow, but I think I hate rain more than I do snow. Anyway, I had to walk for 15 minutes through the rain just to get to the law building! I'm not talking about a nice, pleasant drizzle. I'm talking about a heavy shower with merciless wind that turned my sister's pink Esprit umbrella inside-out and had me looking (and feeling) like a drowned rat by the time I entered the building. Before entering my classroom and facing more than a hundred of my classmates, I tried running my hand through my hair, but I couldn't move my fingers more than an inch. So I tossed my head, stepped in, and tried to pretend that I was invisible. That was an experience. I probably should get up earlier tomorrow. Ah, if only I could resist sleep.

It's funny that I'm getting the full brunt of the rain experience here at ND, when Manila is a land of rain for half the year. But then again, the Manila I'm from is different from the Manila that most know. I don't have the time to expound on that now so I'll leave that for another day.

* * *
I'm getting sleepy already, so I'm ending this post. Before I do, though, I'd like to explain The Gunner theme. (And this section is dedicated to Jac.) Over here, gunners are people who are addicted to hearing themselves speak up in class, so that they recite more often than is either necessary or tolerable. I can't think of a Filipino translation right now, but I know that you guys know what I mean. So I'm the Gunner because when I blog, I just shoot my fingers off without either thinking or caring about whatever. That's the explanation.

Really sleepy now. Abangan ang susunod na kabanata. (Translation: Wait for the next chapter.)

Debate Tidbits

I am so tired right now. I had my oral argument for my Moot Court class about three hours ago. It went well, and I'm grateful for that. The funny thing (yes, funny now; scary a while ago) was that I'd honestly thought that the oral argument, which is 15% of the grade, was scheduled for tomorrow instead of today. Whew - it's a good thing I'd worked on it over the weekend.

* * *
To my ADS friends who are in law school: guys, you better do Moot Court! I won't be definite about it, but I'm really, really thinking about going for Moot Court next year. Jessup Competition, anyone? Haha, yes, the Gunner dreams. Special mention to John and Jess (Lopez, how are you?!). And also to William.

* * *
Speaking of debate, I was talking to Ray A. how many weeks ago at some party. He said that we should have paired up and gotten ND to fund us for Worlds. I was like, oo nga no, sayang! Yes, we were dreaming (I am oh-so-rusty, friends; I can feel it.), but that would have been fun. I still have two Worlds left. Chances are that I'm not going to use those up though. Too bad Ray's leaving in a few months; we could have made that plan work for this year. Who's hosting Worlds this year, anyway? Oh, when Ray gets back, ask him to do card tricks. No joke, guys. He can do magic, and he can do it well.

* * *
Here's to grand debating dreams.

Looking Back

I couldn't sleep, so here I am, typing something up. It's 1:30 AM on a Sunday morning, and I'm awake. Yuckers. I'm not wide awake, mind. I'm just awake enough not be asleep. And that didn't make sense at all, so let's not follow that thought. Man, I don't have anything to say. Let me think. Okay, so this morning, I came across the journal that I had started in anticipation of my life here at ND. I started it about a little more than a month before I left. It was an interesting read. Same old issues but different characters. It's funny how things turn out.

* * *
I keep a journal for two reasons: 1) I find it therapeutic to ramble and 2) I like reading about me. The first reason is pretty self-explanatory, so I'll go on to the second. And, well, that's pretty self-explanatory too, so let's move on. I guess what I want to say is that, when I read about me, I get the impression that my life is a lot more interesting than I think it is. And I can list all the reasons why, but I won't. I'm tired and sleepy, and I'm so not in the mood.

* * *
I miss having a TV. When I got here, I purposely chose not to get one because I was trying to be good. But the badness came through in other ways, so there went that plan. I remember the DVD marathons that I used to have before - days and days of nothing but movies. Fun, fun times. Those were the days.

I miss Meteor Garden and Buffy the Vampire Slayers (BtVS). Those were awesome series, and I was totally absorbed in both of them. Well, except that I didn't like Meteor Garden II as much as I did Meteor Garden I. And also, I didn't go on to watch Seasons 6-7 of BtVS. Season 6 is when Buffy gets all down about being alive; I didn't think I could stand to watch her whine.

I miss them both, though. Ah, remnants of the lazy life I've left behind.

* * *
I sometimes think of how things would be like if I'd gone on climbing the corporate ladder. I ranked pretty well in my course, and the opportunities were there for the taking. I wonder how things would be now if I'd pursued this management program I'd been accepted in. That was a kick-ass program too - good salary, sponsored training abroad, and solid career advancement opportunity. I guess I'd have been the regular Makati girl - Enterprise building during the day and then Greenbelt 3 at night. And then off to England for training, at some point. It's an interesting thought. I write wistfully now, but I know that if I had to choose all over again, I'd still forego that and pursue law.

* * *
Advertising was a good industry to start my 'business career' in. It's not at all as glamorous as it's frequently portrayed, but it's a good learning experience still. You get to juggle one million tasks and one million personalities - what other job gives you that? It's not for me, though. At least accounts is not for me. I was thinking of shifting to copywriting for a while. The Creative Director of the firm where I worked told me to give him a call if ever I wanted to pursue that. I was flattered as hey when he told me that at my despedida. And grateful too, actually. But yeah, that's one call I'm pretty sure I won't be making.

* * *
Going to bed, take two.

Getting Back to It - Or Pretending To

It's the Sunday before school starts. Yeah, Spring Break's come to a close, and I'm pretty bummed about that. It's time for me to suit up for work again. I've been a horrible student for the past how many hours, really. I had trouble concentrating on the reading for tomorrow, but instead of diligently plodding on and seeking to understand, I blasted lots of upbeat and happy music through my headphones. My objective was accomplished - time passed by, and the readings became bearable. The sad catch was that I don't think I understood much of what I read. I was reading this one case, for example, and I was at the last line when the holding stated something completely different from what I'd understood thus far. When that happened, I stared at the last sentence in disbelief. And then I shrugged and 'read on.' What I don't understand now, I will figure out tomorrow.

* * *
There are tons of stories to tell, actually, so this next section won't be a rant and rave about how boring my life's been so far. It hasn't been boring at all, mind. If anything, it's been almost too exciting to believe. Yes, I exaggerate not. But no details on this public space. I'm a private person, so you'll have to hear the stories from me.

* * *
I was talking to my high school buddy, Abu, last Saturday morning. I'd talked to her about two weeks ago, and I'd said I'd call her back the next day, but something happened the night before and I was too distracted to. Well, that morning, something else happened, and I was too distracted not to call. I was up at the ungodly hour of 830 AM, and I didn't want to wake up any more of the friends that I'd kept up until late (as in really late). Anyway, Abu and I were talking and talking, and it was as though we picked up right from where we left off. If I'm not mistaken, that was during our high school graduation, which was five years ago. The power of friendship. And the beauty of it too.

On that note, I'd like to say that I know I have call "utangs" to Manila friends who are here now. I chalk that debt up to lousy, lousy time management on my part (that useful ogre will just not be tamed). But that said, I know that I will call everyone here eventually. That's a statement of fact. When I do, I hope the time will be right and that fun conversations will flow. Similar sentiments abound for my e-mail backlog. Holy cow, friends, I apologize for the silence. But you guys do know that when I disappear for a while, you can expect novel e-mails that should last you for years. In the meantime, look to this blog to confirm that I am not yet dead.

* * *
The next few months are bound to be exciting. New experiences, important decisions to make, different skills to learn... Yeah, yeah, just practicing my spiel for the Mr. Roger's Neighbourhood audition. That was an awesome show. I liked it a whole lot, and I'd be genuinely offended if you told me anything to the contrary. Well, no, not really. We monkeys have our own bananas, and if you can't see the beauty of mine, then I feel sorry for you because you're blind.

* * *
I want to publish something. The last article I did was on Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I had a lot of fun doing that, and I got paid for it too. I haven't written anything in ages. My goodness. No excuses, no excuses. If I'd publish my journal, I'd be rich and famous. But I won't do that. My secrets aren't for you. They'll be revealed to this world when we're all dead. And the world will mourn my passing.

Uncreatively Titled

Dilly-dallying time. I've been staring at the computer screen for how many minutes now, and I'm tired of reading my legal writing. In fact, a while ago, while I was in the middle of editing this paper I've to submit by the end of this week, I laid me down to sleep for a five-minute nap that lasted for three hours. When I woke up from that sleep, I saw the pink of my bedsheet, so I knew I was in my room. For some reason, though, I had it in my head that if I walked out of my room, I would see the rest of my family there instead of a leaf-laden hallway.

* * *
It was snowing when I woke up for the second time today. As the past how many days have been blissfully snow-free, this did not come as a pleasant surprise. I hate snow; I really do. It looks nice and white and pure, but ... well, in the interest of Lent, I won't say what I really think of it. I don't like it at all. I don't, I don't, I don't. Oh well. That's one more thing to complain about.

* * *
For some reason, Natalie Imbruglia gets me right here every Sunday. Her lyrics just speak to me: "Tonight, can I be lost forever/To drown my soul in sensory pleasure" from Beauty on the Fire and "I'm counting down the days tonight/I just want to be a million miles away from here." from Counting Down the Days. (Thanks to Cokelover for the mp3s as well as for the banner, by the way!) Self-explanatory reasons, so let's move on.

* * *
Red Horse, in conspiracy with red and white, mega-whipped my ass two Saturdays ago. Last Saturday, it was J. C. and cotton b. But I was fine then, and I'm fine now. One more time'll make three.

* * *
Why can't spring break start already? I was talking to my sister a while ago, and she said that her school ends on Friday, just like mine does. But when I told her that mine'd end for just a week, she said, "Cham, mine's a real break, as in not just a week." Summertime in Manila. Emergency's over, the beaches await, and the fun's gonna start soon. I want to go home for the summer. But I know that I'll be here.

* * *
I'm drying up here, literally. My hands are red and itchy, and my fingers have the audacity to cut themselves just because I sometimes forget to apply lotion. My goodness. I'll say this for the one-millionth time - it's a really good thing I like me.

* * *
Last thing before I move on to the next dilly-dallying affair: I was thinking of being more thematic in my blog approach. Well, okay, I was thinking of explaining "The Gunner" theme and saying a bit about me and how this blog ties in with that and all that introductory horse that would somehow make for an interesting read. It was a good plan while it lasted.

The Laundry Can Wait

I'm supposed to be editing something right now, but Franz Ferdinand's blasting away, and the laundy bomb is ticking, so I'll put the work off until the one-hour period that the clothes have to bake in the dryer. I've been extremely unproductive today, and I feel really, really good. Okay, I did get my work stuff done - for those of you who don't know, I'll be working as a Research Assistant this summer. Lots of good reasons why, and you can guess at them or get in touch in me and hope I'd tell you. So yeah, there was quite a bit of paperwork that I had to take care of. It was daunting at first, but it's all fixed now, and I'm glad. Why am I talking about work?!

* * *
Let's talk about something else. I got an e-mail from the Father Figure in this place I'm staying. Guess what it was about - Boxelder Bugs that are invading some apartments (not mine; only dust here). Sounds gruesome? Well, click here to see how they look like. And we thought cockroaches were bad. At least cockroaches are monochromatic. Colorful insects are just freaky. The website reminds me of my Constitutional Law professor. He likes making Powerpoint presentations with insects in them. How many classes ago, for instance, we were talking about this case (I can't remember the name.) with a green insect in it (Oh my goodness, I can't remember the insect either.) Anyway, he asked the class what effect that insect had (I think it was a fly) on interstate commerce. The first thing that popped into my mind was how it'd make people stay clear of its habitat-state. My classmate answered that people might flock over there to check the fly out. And yet another classmate answered that the fly affected biodiversity. Different kinds of lawyers with different kinds of answers. I am oh-so-glad that I didn't voice my answer out.

* * *
Just a while ago, I was cracking up because of this trailer. Oh my goodness, isn't it hilarious? It sets my endorphins off like crazy, and I think I'll go to that site instead of the gym when I need to feel happy. But I will start working out when I get to be 700 pounds. I felt so bad/horrified a while ago; I was in a certification class when the conductor said something about morbid obesity and how a 700-pound woman couldn't fit in the elevator in her workplace. Oh dear.

* * *
More than a little while ago, I was downtown, freezing my butt off in the bus station. I don't understand the term "freezing my butt off." It should be something like "freezing my face off" or "freezing my nose off." Or even "numbing my legs off." Well, some things don't make sense to me, and that's fine. A few days back, a friend and I were walking home from the library. I told her that we should get a massage, except that we should get a Thai massage. She repeated the Thai massage phrase, and I knew she thought I meant "thigh massage." That was laugh-out-loud funny. After we laughed about that, she said, "hey, whatever floats your boat." Yeah, whatever does, indeed. But sorry, a thigh massage doesn't do it for me.

* * *
It goes without saying that this site's under construction. Yeah, yeah, I like saying useless things. This blog wouldn't be here if I wanted to keep silent. I make no promises, but I think I'll be posting more often. I just love wasting time. Okay, my wet clothes have been waiting for ten minutes now. Back to the laundry place. Hey, maybe I can catch the last few minutes of American Idol! Okay, I'm out of here.

Blah Blah Blah

Two more weeks until spring break. That's the happy thought I've chosen to start my post with. Yes, this promises to be a ramble, all right. I don't want to look too far ahead, because these next two weeks are bound to be mega stressful. No worries though; I'm a superwoman when I want to be, and my enemies (i.e. readings and Emma Morgan's case) do not stand a chance. I shoot them before they shoot me. And I'm tired of the shooting lingo, so I'll stop.

I feel like I should write an intellectual piece about Gloria and Proclamation 1017. Oh, I have thoughts on those, all right, but I think there'll be a proper time to write that up. Diana Ross is singing "you can't hurry love" to me, and I'm thinking that you can't hurry essays either. They will come when they will. Me and my excuses, yeah? At least I get creative with them. People with boring excuses don't deserve to be excused.

Something creepy happened to me a while ago. I'd just gotten back from dinner with a friend and was settling down to work in a carrel in the basement stacks (i.e. part of the law school library with no windows). I started thinking about something profound and then I started thinking some more, and before I knew it, I was feeling really trapped and claustrophobic and creeped out, and I knew I just had to get out of there, so I did. Thankfully, my friend was heading out too, so we rushed out the law school together. We got home in record time too; according to her, I was walking extra-fast. Creepy, yeah? And I'm not referring to the walking fast part. I'm not going back to that place again. Well, knowing me, I probably will go back just to prove I can. And then I can leave the place for good. Or maybe I'll change my mind. Aquinas says that I can, and he seems like authority enough. I'd cite him in Bluebook form, but I'm not that demented. Yet.

Santa Banana and Holy Cow, my sense of humor is morphing into something strange. Thank God I still find me funny. Then again, I'm always really nice when it comes to me. And I do crack up at the most ridiculous things. I'm sleepy. May it please the court to sleep. It probably doesn't, but what the hey. This is it. The bed deserves my attention now.