I finally saw my teacher’s new website. He posted all his published short stories plus his novel just recently launched. I found out (through the links) that one of my favorite Filipino writers (also a university professor) has a blog. I also felt a bit flattered when I saw mine on the links.
I continued lurking on my latest crush’s website. He was, like Ned, a child prodigy. He has published a book when he was sixteen. And I am determined to find it and buy myself a copy. It looks so intriguing. Here’s another witty writer dealing with growing up. Of being a teenager. Of dealing with high school life. He’s also a film maker at a very young age of eighteen.
I found out he has a blog. And so has Ned. And so has my favorite teacher. And one of my favorite local writers. And need I mention myself?
Long live the bloggists!
My partner and I sucked at dissection class. We cut a lot of unsuspected tiny nerves so we got the highest deduction points; hence, the lowest grade among the class. The weakest link. But I wouldn’t even be glad if we got high grades. We didn’t enjoy our cat stinking of rot and formalin, and ourselves stinking right after, as well. One thing I appreciate though is washing the cat, along with the board, the cheesecloth, and the plastic bags. We were technically bathing our cat.
Where would you find such thoughtful people deeply concerned over a carcass?
I always feel invisible during Philippine Lit class. An outcast. A sit-in student, who merely watches the whole class from one of the corners of the room. I don’t recite. I don’t ask. I don’t even speak. I only do body language.
Reminds me of Branwell. Except that I’m not put into a juvenile center. Anyway I’m developing my listening capacity, and so far, I’ve tried to listen and consider insights of most of my classmates. Later on, perhaps appreciate. Well, hopefully.
Here’s another lazy night in my life. I’ve been sound-tripping for nearly two hours. I feel so full after having a dinner of rice. I had yogurt since last night ‘til this afternoon. I guess I’m not used to eating real foods anymore.
I continued lurking on my latest crush’s website. He was, like Ned, a child prodigy. He has published a book when he was sixteen. And I am determined to find it and buy myself a copy. It looks so intriguing. Here’s another witty writer dealing with growing up. Of being a teenager. Of dealing with high school life. He’s also a film maker at a very young age of eighteen.
I found out he has a blog. And so has Ned. And so has my favorite teacher. And one of my favorite local writers. And need I mention myself?
Long live the bloggists!
My partner and I sucked at dissection class. We cut a lot of unsuspected tiny nerves so we got the highest deduction points; hence, the lowest grade among the class. The weakest link. But I wouldn’t even be glad if we got high grades. We didn’t enjoy our cat stinking of rot and formalin, and ourselves stinking right after, as well. One thing I appreciate though is washing the cat, along with the board, the cheesecloth, and the plastic bags. We were technically bathing our cat.
Where would you find such thoughtful people deeply concerned over a carcass?
I always feel invisible during Philippine Lit class. An outcast. A sit-in student, who merely watches the whole class from one of the corners of the room. I don’t recite. I don’t ask. I don’t even speak. I only do body language.
Reminds me of Branwell. Except that I’m not put into a juvenile center. Anyway I’m developing my listening capacity, and so far, I’ve tried to listen and consider insights of most of my classmates. Later on, perhaps appreciate. Well, hopefully.
Here’s another lazy night in my life. I’ve been sound-tripping for nearly two hours. I feel so full after having a dinner of rice. I had yogurt since last night ‘til this afternoon. I guess I’m not used to eating real foods anymore.
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