september.

Okay, I just erased the first few lines I typed in because my mom walked in and said I sounded like my immature, grade-school self, always in between the backstabbing and fights. So, I decided to just shut up about that and talk about something cheery instead.

In an hour and 30 minutes it's going to be Terri's birthday! Add another 19-year old to the group. By tomorrow, Cel and I will be the only "young" ones left! *smiles* Once September comes rolling around, three things are bound to happen. 1: Everyone (i.e. Nati, Jill and Terri) starts getting depressed about being "old". 2: My wallet starts its annual deflation and takes on thin-crust pizza thickness by the end of Christmas, the space occupied by wads of receipts. 3: My stomach starts ballooning, with no monthly reductions.

Oh no. It seems like September isn't such a good month for me! *laughs*

gearing up.

Next week is going to be one hell of a hell week. What with the Accounting and Theology tests, plus the deadline of the Accounting project, plus those nerve-wracking French orals! Aaaaah! I can't take it! The thoughts of sleepless nights, last-minute study groups and right-before-the-test jitters are enough to make me want to cry. "Can I cry?"

And yet, what am I doing here? I should start studying for something, anything. But what? Theo? I don't even know the coverage of the test. Accounting? I can't quite do that on my own. French? *shivers* (Nginig? :p ) After that disappointing dialogue blackout earlier this morning, I don't think I want to deal with my newfound language just yet. Uh-uh. *shakes head*

I am never going to get used to talking in front of a crowd, exactly the reason why I tend not to recite in class. I can count the number of times I've (voluntarily) recited in all of my classes since I started college with just my fingers and toes. That's how bad my recitation record is. Back in high school, whenever the teacher announces a role-play activity, I cringe and think, "If only I had the theatrical abilities of Karla and Tin." then I proceed to mumble a few lines, unconvincingly. Tsk tsk. I have no future in showbiz! *laughs* Of course, I knew that way back when I couldn't keep a straight face whenever my brother and I would try playing jokes on my sister. Still, I must be getting better. I must be if RJ fell for the improvised "Victim" stunt we pulled a few weeks ago. *laughs* Still, there's someone else we have to "victimize" next time.

hermes, the messenger.

Whenever I have pent-up feelings, I grab ahold of a pen and start writing my worries and jitters away. Whenever I feel unusually ecstatic, I write down my day's blow-by-blow, just so I could have something happy to look back on months, maybe years from now. But when writing involves bringing news that's not exactly of the Gospel (good news) kind, I can't bring myself to go past a few paragraphs. Scribbling down each word seems like such a chore. I start out strong, but I keep slowing down until I finally stop altogether, a zillion questions still buzzing around in my head. "Is this wrong? Maybe I should say it in a different way."

They usually shoot the messenger. Maybe they should go ahead and shoot the writer first. Spare him the agony of writing the message altogether.

doors and tricks.

Cheese raclette. Cel had this Teflon-coated tray thing to melt the cheese on before serving. A neat-looking black and blue contraption of sorts. We had authentic Swiss cuisine complete with almost-sweet baby onions, tiny baked potatoes and bacon bits. No doubt, the most fascinating thing about Cel's house is not the giant white Japanese lantern hanging from the ceiling above the living room, nor the pink infused acrylic painting-slash-sliding-door to the bathroom, it's the food. I have no idea where they get all these burgis goodies from. Not that I'm complaining. :D That cheese was good.

Speaking of doors to bathrooms, I got stuck in Cel's bathroom! I must have spent 5 minutes turning the lock over and over, to the left, to the right, pushing down on the lever, pushing on the door, nothing seemed to work. The other connecting door to the other room seemed easier to open, but I heard the television blaring from the other side. I was sure that wasn't Cel, but one of her sisters watching a show. I didn't want to go out from that side, making it obvious that I couldn't get out the other way. *sheepish grin* So I stubbornly tried to open the door to Cel's room. Finally, I gave up and sent Cel a text message: Cel, I'm stuck inside your bathroom! wahahaha! I instantly heard laughter from downstairs, and someone clambering up the stairs. I'm apparently victim # 4! The secret to opening the door is not pushing on it with all your might, or mentally willing the door to budge; you have to pull it first! Now, I know.

Thank goodness we don't have tricky bathroom doorknobs like those in our house. Still, I find it amusing whenever someone has to leave and they can't open our front door. *hehe* Most of the time, I volunteer the "secret trick" even before they grab ahold of the knob. Sometimes, I just watch and see if they'd get it right. Some people, no matter how many times they come to our house, never seem to remember "what's wrong" with our door. The others exclaim, "This is the unconventional doorknob!" before reaching for the doorknob and end up opening the door in one try. Bravo! *laughs* The next time I use Cel's bathroom, I have to be able to open it in one swift movement, too.

running off to training.

Whee. I'm still in my pajamas, I haven't eaten breakfast or lunch or brunch, and I have to be at training in an hour. All this + 30 minutes travel time = I'm going to be late! Not that that's anything out of the ordinary. *smiles* I forgot to bring home the balls last night, so I'll have to pass by the covered courts to pick them up before heading on over to LTO for another fun-filled afternoon of toasting under the sun! Whoopee. The thing is, I don't even know if the balls are still going to be there later, or if someone fancied bringing home 70 bright slightly deflated tennis balls. I'll get to leave practice earlier though, We're having a study group at Cel's house! Yey! Fooooood. Cel was tempting me last night with all the great food Manang was cooking for today. Screw the diet (or semi-diet). It's pig-out time!

Oh, and I went on the weighing scale again, and the 4 kg gain must have been a fluke. Instead of 9-10 lbs., I gained just 6-7! That's not too bad. Maybe I shouldn't get on that "diet" like I was supposed to. Why torture myself by resisting all the yummy Chocolate Peanut ice cream in the freezer? Or all those chocolate Mozart balls my dad brought back from Europe? Makes me wonder how Nati could have survived without eating ice cream for 2 whole months (that is, before Marts got her to eat yesterday). Heck, how could Carlo have survived not eating chocolate for 2 whole years? Now that's what I call self-control. I don't think I can manage that. I could go a lifetime without, say, ampalaya though! *laughs*

oh happy day.

I was blocked by Alyana three times.

The funny thing was, each time she blocked me, the words that escaped my mouth were "Wow." "Nice!" or "Tangkad!", not exactly frustrated-after-being-blocked material. So lean, so tall, so fast! I had a hard time keeping track of where she was going, but I had to stick to her like glue. That's what Teolo and Rickett told me. Each time I had to contend with her for the rebound the same thought kept going through my head, "It's not in the height, it's in the jump!" *laughs* Rickett said it should have been, "It's not in the height, it's in the heart!" Whoops.

My version seemed to work though. Normally, I never get any rebounds. Today, the ball seemed to gravitate towards me, all I had to do was jump up and grab it! It was odd. The ball never used to come my way. I'd position myself to the right and the ball would bounce to the left. I'd position myself to the left and the ball would deflect to the right. But today, all I had to do was stand somewhere, anywhere, and I could more or less, touch the ball, swat it away, or whatever. *grins* Yey!

Today was fun. AND funny! Every game's a comedy show when it comes to us! That's what makes playing so enjoyable. There is bound to be at least one blooper per game, always something to look forward to, something to get those abdominal muscles working as you laugh. Smiles are never ever absent from the court. Well, there was one exception. It was a game with the seniors from last year. Bad day + bad game= bad mood + bad appetite. It was a terribly rough game with the opponents really pushing you around, boxing out relentlessly. Intense. I guess that's the word to describe that game. I don't ever want to play something like that again though. That was no fun. Everyone was so serious, so feisty. At first I'd hear myself saying "Sorry." whenever I'd accidentally step on someone's foot or hit someone's hands. After the first few quarters, I had it. If they wanted to play rough, I was gonna give them a rough time too! *laughs* Don't think it worked well though. I felt so bad after that.

Anyway, as I was saying, today was fun! And all I can say is, ang galing talaga ng sophomores! *laughs* Self-flattery? Nope! I was talking about Team Chette with Alyana, Kri and Bea. Once our defense broke, they'd put in their shots for sure. It was a good thing our Great Wall defense didn't falter all too often. How can you break through the Nati, Jill and She defense? They're always all over the opponents.

I still laugh whenever I think about our team name. Doble sentido. Great Wall nga ba, o Great Wall? Hmm, makes me wonder. Who thought up that name in the first place? Team Great Wall. I think I better do some asking around.

when waiting means dying.

I got it all wrong when I thought that we females got the worse deal. Men got it worse. It took me a nice trip to the Emergency Room of a nearby hospital last Friday to figure that one out. After waiting 3 hours for a urinalysis and an ultrasound inspection, my brother was finally let go with nothing more than a prescription for over-the-counter painkillers. Had it not been for this scare, and everyone's fear that there would be no preceding Tanmantiong's to ever exist in this world and carry the name on, I would have been stuffing my face at Saisaki celebrating Jill's (and partly Nati's) birthday. I had not been to Saisaki in more than 5 years until last Friday. Still, the record stands that I have not eaten at Saisaki in more than 5 years and two days. I stayed just in time for Sam, RJ, Marts, Joe and Plep to arrive- and I was off for one of the longest nights of my life. All we did was wait. And a thought struck me as a woman who had a bruised eye and a bloody head was rolled in and not attended to until payment could be ensured from her companions. "I'm going to die before I get any medical help here."

I heard one of the attendants saying how "This is a private institution... bla bla blah." Cut to the chase and just tell the lady that her friend can't be helped if you don't have cash. This is a private institution, translation: Wala kaming paki basta may pera ka. Ouch. My brother, aunt and I were on the way out of the ER before the injured woman was finally admitted for a CT scan. And that's just for the scan. What if there had been internal bleeding all this time? Those 3 hours she waited, her life was ebbing away slowly like grains of sand through an hourglass. I was disgusted by the hospital system; shocked that humans who are supposedly our earthly saviors could possibly be so unfeeling towards those in need. Indirectly, it's as if they're saying that the rich deserve to live and that the less fortunate can be left to wilt. And they say they're "Number 1 in Patient Care." They're number one alright, number one with patients who don't care how much they spend on their Guccis and Ferragamos.

wasting away.

It's one of those nights. I'm here, wide awake again. Sometimes, I feel this incessant urge to keep my eyes open as random thoughts start fighting for attention. That's when I end up sitting on a chair, staring blankly into space, too focused on things going on inside my head to be conscious of the physical world. Where does all this thinking get me? Nowhere. Do I even remember what I think about when I wake up the next morning? No. Bah. Pointless waste of time.

excuse my french.

"When French people swear do they say: Pardon my English?"

Wala lang. Bored? You might want to check out www.goodquotes.com Some questions there just might get you thinking. My brain's been searing on the grill for too long a time. I've found happiness in reading all these trivial and sometimes nonsensical questions. Sorry, I guess that's what studying for a Theology long test and a French dialogue can do to me. Makes me go a bit bonkers.

Mind you, bonkers does not equal lovey-dovey. I had a momentary lapse at World Topps upon pondering the meaning of "I'll be your love suicide." (Eehh... Really, does that line make any sense to you? I still can't figure that one out.) But, I have not progressed exponentially to a state of lovey-doveyness. Ce n'est pas possible when I have to worry about how to schedule watching "The Notebook" with Nati in French! Adam and Eve will have to wait until tomorrow. God's 24-hour day doesn't seem to be quite enough for me today.

It's past 11. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

sleep vs. happiness

I stayed up and waited for the clock to strike midnight just so I could greet Nati on the dot. I don't usually stay up that late. In fact, I don't at all... unless I'm cramming for something major. If I still haven't done my Accounting homework, sleep. If I haven't read anything for Theo class, sleep. If there's a French quiz to study for that I haven't, *panic* and then sleep. Simply put, once the hour hand goes past eleven, my vocabulary is reduced to one word: sleep.

Last night was different though. And why not? It's Nati's birthday after all! So I happily stayed up while I tinkered around with Photoshop and wrote little notes to put along with our gift for her. Finally, the digital display on my Nike watch turned to 12:00 and I excitedly got my cellphone and typed in a birthday message. Then, I waited. One minute. Two minutes. Fifteen minutes.

Ayyy. Tulog na siya! I found out today that she hit the sack at 11. We switched bedtimes! It was so funny. Of all the times I decided to greet somebody, that person had to be asleep! So, the lesson for today is not to stay up until 12 when you had one sadistic afternoon of tennis training, just to greet your friend. *laughs then pauses* Nah. I would have done the same thing over again if I had to.

I would have done it all again for the satisfaction of seeing Nati happy. It's great seeing your friends so jolly (hehe). I keep flashing back to Cel's Energizer Bunny moment when she was so hyper over "Bakit Ngayon Ka Lang". You just can't help but smile along with them, get caught up in their infectious mood. And if their happiness means getting a free Starbucks frappucino along the way, then why not make them happy everyday? (Did i just rhyme?)

Cel and I couldn't help but share a laugh earlier when Nati exclaimed that she wanted to have an experience similar to the guys in "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy". She was already wearing her new Chilly Papa jeans, but she had no idea that she had a whole new outfit already planned out for her today. We couldn't deliver on the interior design, but Jill did bake her a nice big fat cake! So, we covered a bit of ground. We'd definitely give Carson a run for his money though! (Wait, for his money? or for her money?) You'd never think that Jill put together that outfit in under 30 minutes. Now that's what we call a quick shopper!

"I'll never forget this."- Nati

One happy friend. Check! Now, all we have to do is take care of Jill's birthday present. Two more days to go! One more happy friend coming up!

for the girl who has everything.

Nati's birthday is in two days and I still have no idea what to get her. That strikes me as odd, considering we're practically joined at the hip. We've got all the same classes. We're always going to the same places. I even tag along when she does her weight training at Moro every Tuesday and Thursday! So, why does my mind come up blank whenever I try to think of a gift? Considering how much time I've spent with Nati in the past year and a half, I should have an idea, even the smallest inkling of what to give her. But nooo (said in true Jill fashion). I'm stumped. *crosses arms and pouts*

home alone.

This is what boredom does to you.

Muri was asking me if I knew any cool websites to look at since he was bored. I told him he should go to maron101.blogspot.com! *laughs* Everyday, I find myself going to Maron's blog and amusing myself with his funny, sometimes unusual, sometimes too dramatic take on things. The most prominent words on his blog right now are: career, nginig, and fight. Those three words could pretty much sum up his life right now, if his blog is to be believed.

Career- School. School. And more school. Against Maron's 89 Accounting test and his 91 Math long test, my 79's look pathetic. Good for him that he's keeping his eyes set on those A's and B+'s! I'd be lucky to get anywhere near those two marks.

Nginig- Would you believe that I don't know what this word means? Of course I know what it means literally, to shake. But then, that's not what Maron implies when he uses that word, right? I mean, what the hell does "Nanginig siya." mean? Kilig? Maybe. I'll keep that definition for now. Nginig= Kilig.

Fight- When it comes to love, you've got to fight all the way. At least that's what Maron says. In a perfect world, in a hopeful, optimistic and idealistic world that exists merely in the minds of the most hopeless romantics, "fighting" is what's expected. In the real world, where everything plain hurts, choosing this supposedly higher road is tough. Maron, you're one tough cookie.

It's on days like these when I realize that Kamiseta's absolutely right when they said, "It's fun being a girl." No worries about whether to fight or to turn your back. No worries about being publicly laglaged. Girls don't have to put their prides and egos on the line. At least not as often as guys. Still, there's always the downside. Aside from mother nature's gift (or curse), there's always that sense of being objectified. Is that even the right word? (Heck, is that even a word?)

What do I mean? Well, let's say a particularly arrogant and annoying SCI 10 classmate looks you up and down blatantly in broad daylight in front of your friends. Then he proceeds to tell his friend, "Girl ko yan." when you haven't even spoken a single word to this cheeky classmate in your life. One word: Bastos. I can take a certain level of hot air, I can take arrogance, but what I can never take is someone who has no respect.

Cara has been telling me all about what this guy's been saying for the past few weeks. Cara would always scold him, all in my behalf. At first, I'd laugh it off, thinking this is all a harmless joke. I thought maybe this dude's just a little bit bored, a little demented, and more or less, just KSP. I'd wave it all off with a laugh. I'd tell Ca that it's nothing. But after the SEC-A incident Jill told me about (I didn't even know he was there! Ha! You're invisible!), I don't know if I'd be able to take having him behind me during SCI 10 class. Why won't he stay put in his goddamn seat? Heeelllp...