im doing this post with my pupils staring straight at this white space on my monitor for the tenth consecutive minute already

okay. so, considering that ihad just moved them down to see if im tapping the correct keys, thats over-acting


only miggy the sadist would claim, however, that what im saying about what i feel right now is an exaggeration



ive only slept four hours last night. or, more correctly, 'kanina'


iwatched the 7-hour delayed telecast of the brgy.ginebra-stalucia match that ended a few minutes after 1 in the morning


then ihad to wake up at 5 to meet this burly sixth-grader that iwas supposed to teach things like place values and parts of the body



the whole five schooldays before that, iwas sleeping everynight at routine hours between 11 and 12 in the evening

and ofcourse rise at 4 to make myself go to some torturehouse that calls itself a pontifical establishment





so to clarify things, im not impersonating a chinito guy if ever you happened to notice something strange about my eyes lately



iam even supposed to go to sleep right now, having promised myself just that after finishing the assailment in philosophy


ijustdontknow why iam here updating this blog



to all my loyal readers: thats simply how important you are to me, even though you are reading nothing of substance here, ijust keep on pouring them, selflessly for your sake,, so now dont forget my name come this....


even my jokes sound like the real-world-arvee, not like the boredarvee that supposedly authors this site




and now im babbling, about to complete one whole post, with the handicap of cloudy neurons and cloudy pupils




is sleep really that important to homo sapiens sapiens?



oh yes, if youre not a fan of the facial decorations i endorse, sleep is indeed a requirement





how about me- ihave no hope no more, so can iask god to take it away so that many more important things can be done in the time it occupies?



important things like...

watching delayed ginebra telecasts and finding out ways on how to better my social mask?




you were supposed to laugh damnit

ihave just finished bonding with the readings in journ that preached of the evils of cluttering to writer-wannabes



the thing that affects me with that is, even though ihave given up on my dreams of becoming a writer, iam still a student

whose course right now has got a lot to do with writing



a confession: my middle initial isnt C, but if it were, it would have stood for Cluttering

(yes, if only it were caguioa)


my mind is a clutter. my handwriting clutters

my writing style specializes with cluttering



so very especially-for-me were those readings that all icould do while the sentences pierced by me was to smile

and to curse

because it hurts me so much

to realize that the only positive thing with me

(uhm, that's writing, if you havent noticed yet. people in the past said iwrote better than most engineering students)

is not very positive at all



cluttering, as that spectacular author defined it in so many metaphors, was kind of like writing nonsensely


too much words. too little idea



papasam had warned me in the past about that style of mine

ihad to be rejected by the varsi workshop just so ill realize that what he was telling me was gold



no vulgarity can describe what ifelt then. even right now, with the idea of holding a pen and, again, using it on paper without academic intentions



"im never gonna dance again, guilty feet, have got no rhythm"