Dear fortunetellers, soothsayers, astrologers– both Western and Vedic practitioners– and those who just infer that something is written in the stars, I have a very important case for you. First dream last night: I came back to St. Paul all-perky, and randomly all my high school teachers were persistently convincing me to become a… PRIEST. Is that normal? Me? A priest? Curse the Vatican now. ( Read more… )
Academic year 2009-2010 knifed through the Manila storms— jeepneys sputtering, crowds scuttling, rainwater pissing— what omen to realize that you did not return to school. It was school that had returned. The erratic weather conditions having you to rummage a flexible attire. The routine so familiar you almost don’t get that excited. The people you know now being outnumbered by the unknown species. It’s the real deal, you jughead: You are officially a senior.
With this sappy introduction, I now narrate some few cute stories of my first week of being a fourth year. Porchirr, to some. Last year. Last chance. ( Read more… )
April for me has always been a month to be anticipated longingly. Several reasons spill like summer vacation, family and friends reunions, blah blah blah. I managed to go to St. Paul last Friday to loo out over some CAT aspirants and meet some fellow, uhh, alumni. To my disappointment, only a few of whom I knew came to train the young juniors in their grimy white shirts about pseudo-militarization.