tomorrow is our permanent address

I'll tell you the truth- I want someone to believe in.

Because Senator Aquino lacks the experience and Senator Villar lacks the credibility and when Mister Teodoro showed to at UPM to talk he spewed nothing but meaningless platitudes anyone can say any day (and everyone liked him so much I thought I was either being too critical or everyone else was just walking around with their eyes closed- but that's another story). Senator Gordon I wish I could trust but when someone's been that long in politics you start looking askance at them whether it's something they did or no, and maybe this entire mess is the fault of a system where you don't vote for the someone you like but for the someone you hate the least.

And it's not just politics and sides and stupid things like that, the stupid things that run this place. They're just the obvious places. They're only incidental. If they weren't there or if they were perfect all our problems would be coming from someplace else. I know, I know- it's a good thing that I'm still getting disgusted at the world, because as long as people are still being disgusted when disgusting things are happening there will still be hope. And I know- if you don't believe in anyone then that means that they can never hurt you.

But. But. I want to be able to say that it's crazy and it's flawed and it's occasionally completely outrageous but this is how we run the world, we can make it work, deal with it. I want to be able to give an opinion and not have to clarify that there are idiots on my side but that doesn't make my point any less valid. I want there to be things worth fighting for and dying for and a way to actually work for these things, and when I turn a page of an old journal and see the words "Dear God, life is hell" I want to be able to yell that NO IT ISN'T.

There will always be idiots, and the fact that people are people means that this crazy vortex pit that is the world will go on being what it is, capable of more hell than any hell can ever come up with, and occasionally of more grace than heaven can ever dream of. All I want is for maybe that occasionally to show up more often.

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I want? A Sam Vimes to my Lord Vetinari. I need to know that there is one good person, out there, somewhere. Preferably working for me as I rule the most powerful city in the world and let him do what he needs to get done. But you're getting ahead of yourself there, Jillian Lee. The point still stands, though.

No sane man would agree to sign a thousand books and be hugged ten thousand times in the span of five hours. Well, no sane person would spend two thousand pesos and wait five hours just for the chance to meet one of their favorite authors, especially if they had an exam the next day. At least our hands aren't going to be begging us to cut them off, but still.

No sane man would sign books till long after the air conditioners were turned off and the mall the signing was in began going to sleep.

Thank goodness Mr. Gaiman is maybe one of the most patient people in the world, in addition to being insane in just the right way. Thank you, and if you ever find yourself with too much time on your hands drop by and we'll give you the grand walking tour of Manila and you will probably be squished like you have never been squished before.

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94.5 out of 100 is not a bad score for a BioLab exam, considering the previous day was spent at a book signing. That's all.

Well, no, it isn't all. Our diorama is the best diorama ever known to man, even in the absence of three-dimensional normal fish, our manta ray stayed cooperative, we spent BioLec time watching X-Men 2, at hindi na nakabitay yung sea turtle. Also, Diosdado Macapagal also has a mole.

And, dear Calculus: I understand that you are necessary, that the lessons you impart are part of the things we ought to know, the same way you ought to know that reptiles re not amphibians no matter what class you are teaching. That doesn't mean I have to like you. I don't. But iMed and Sir Mong make you occasionally awesome.

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Belated happy birthday, Mother. :D

The apartment is a two-storey two-bedroom two-bathroom house in the corner of the compound, is more or less right outside the Pedro Gil side of UPM, and it rents out for P20K a month, which is a lot cheaper than a studio condo at Robinsons'. We can have three people in each bedroom and one person on Bea's sofa (that person can be me) and Allie will bring her printer and I'll have WiFi installed and Bea will bring the sofa and the ref and we can watch TV at Sed's house and we can get someone to do the laundry for all the iMed students in the compound and the house needs a bit of work but it will do, of course it will do-

I want summer to happen, fast. Alternatively, I want not to have Calculus anymore. And since I doubt I'll jinx anything by saying it: for an exam I didn't study for, yesterday's Chem dep ex was okay.

Life is good. It's always been oddly good to me, and I'm a bit scared of what I'll have to pay it back, but right now, what the hell.

My brain works in very weird ways on the days it decides to actually work. Today it decided that yes, you can talk about whatever you like and they have to listen to you because it's your damn speech, and no, you can't outline it because once you start it you have no idea what it will look like in the end.

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If I were the sort of person who updated her Facebook status, or for that matter the sort of person who knew what to do after logging in on Facebook, no doubt my status would have also been "Nasa mansyon ni Airah". Since I'm not, I'll just say: Airah, Icia, Pjoy, dapat talaga may reunion tayo ulit (I think that was redundant). Sa mansyon ni Airah. Kahit di na kami lumabas ng entertainment room, okay lang, basta may battery yung gitara sa Rock Band.

(Did I forget someone? Right. Hi Igitot. XD)

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I'm the late girl. I'm the perpetually late girl. But at least at least at least I have the decency to arrive an hour after the scheduled meeting time. I don't show up at eleven when call time is eight, and then go have lunch after one round of practice, even if I had to practice tango.

Also: if your dance partner is Jio Santos, you can opt not to do anything and just follow his lead, and you will pass. You'll also have to dance the tango in front of the hundred million people you always imagine to be in the audience.

I want the brass chicken and the Spolarium and I want the chance to go back to the museum when summer begins to march about and clean stuffed bird specimens and kidnap the skink even though it will more likely than not bite me as I make the attempt and most of all I want not to have SocSci, or at least not to be taught SocSci by an idiot of a teacher. Every time she starts to make sense she says something like "People have no instincts" and then the spark of hope that flickers every chance it gets dies again.

But in the absence thereof I'll be content with the Spolarium. And to work in a museum you have to be either a bit crazy or very very passionate or both, and when I get the chance I want to go back. Maybe we won't get off at the wrong place this time.

Quote of the day-

When you have a talk at any other school, they tell you how honored they are to have you. When you have a talk at UP, they expect you to tell them how honored you are they invited you. And then they tell you how brave you are for accepting their invitation.

No wonder everyone thinks we're arrogant.

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Gilbert Teodoro could have been a politician. Okay, fine, he is a politician. He could have been a TV show host. He has the ability to say things that sound nice without saying anything concrete.

Because it's easy to say that we're a long way away from being a First World country. It's easy to say that you want health care to be available to every Filipino citizen, that you disapprove of overpopulation, that we need long-term solutions to the tens of thousands of problems we have. It's easy to say that to get anywhere close to the ideal Philippines takes time. It's easy to say that, because it's stuff that everyone knows.

It's like being a doctor who sees a patient suffering from fatigue, dehydration, lack of appetite, on and off fevers, and itchy feet. Which is the most pressing problem? None of the above, the patient has dengue. All right, I can buy that. But while you're trying to get rid of the virus you could hook your patient up to an IV and tell him to scratch his feet.

If he weren't a Gloria Boy he'd be okay. Not fantastic, but okay. I wonder what that says about us.

If only I'd had the chance to ask my question I wouldn't be here rambling. XD

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I'm glad my family isn't like a soap opera. It means much less work, at least in terms of genogram.

Also today we have the legend of Karate Kid. Wala lang.

Our first Monday class starts at seven.

So this morning I woke up at quarter to six, was out of the house by six-fifteen, and was at the train station by six-twenty. The train left V. Mapa at six-thirty and arrived at Recto at quarter to seven. I walked to the Doroteo Jose station thinking that I would actually turn up early, for a change.

I got on the train at seven-forty. By that time I had run through several hundred thousand versions of "whoever is running the LRT system is a complete idiot and I could do better", and was beginning to see the sense is killing your fellow commuters just to get on a train. Had I been wearing a mood ring, it would have glowed with the color of royally pissed.

When I finally at long last got to the classroom I found that Ma'am Roque wasn't there yet.

Sometimes I think no one in the world is luckier than I am.

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Today we had an adventure. We walked around Bambang for an hour and a half looking for matches.

Well, we looked for the other stuff as well. Pipettes, stoppers, wash bottles, alcohol lamps, the usual deal. Just that it was the matches we had trouble with. Inuwi ko yung alcohol lamp namin, para sa coffee siphon ko.

I like having labs again. Much easier to have disasters with lab work around. XD

When it comes to Philippine politics, there's no such thing as subtlety.

I have this to say about U. Ave: it doesn't waste time. Aside from the fact that it started half an hour late, it doesn't waste time. You have characters, you have issues, you drop said issues on the audience with a song and dance number to boot, and everything flows together from there. It was funny and over-the-top and it had awesome, awesome music and it dropped the anvil it wanted to drop. That's all.

Okay, that isn't all. I won't say anything about the lyrics, because learning how to write lyrics is something that comes with practice, and because I can't write lyrics to save my life. And I won't say anything about the characterizations, because the reason stereotypes are stereotypes is because they work if your main objective is to drop anvils, and as stereotypes went they were at least believable stereotypes. (My favorite's the janitor. And is it any wonder that we vote for the people we do, with the way we love villains as long as they're funny villains?)

But really? You don't go around screaming for change without offering viable solutions. You don't stick your neck out just to make a point. There are things worth dying for, and if you have to die you have to die, but it'd be nice if the people who saw what was wrong with society stayed alive long enough to try and do something about it. And if you're a rebellious teenager being offered a car and flat in exchange for calming down, take the car and flat, and then you can do whatever the hell you want.

After all, just because you're idealistic doesn't mean you can't be practical.

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I have to write a proper criticism of the play for Hum1, don't expect me to do ti here, too. XD

"You're a different class of rockstar- your fans are deaf."

(Yes, the translation is mine. If I get kicked out of UPM I can put subtitles in Filipino films for a living. And yes, that's the director's signature there. The marker was Tella's, I think.)

So yesterday night we watched Dinig Sana Kita., and because of Dinig Sana Kita we had no Comm the next day. That isn't even one of the best things about the film, though it may have come close.

With a title like that, it's obviously about deafness. Well, no, not really. It's about deafness and rock stars and teenagers growing the hell up, and it was fun. Because you have to be good to be able to pull off a feel-good movie about deafness and rock stars and teenagers growing the hell up, even without having studio heads poking into what you're doing.

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If there's anything in the world I love as much as not being busy, it's being busy.

Also! (This did not fall down from the sky.) Even though I know that, by virtue of being imaginary, or if otherwise due to financial, geographical, and academical constraints, you, whoever you may be, probably will not be able to watch, I'll extend an invitation anyway- TRP is tomorrow, 5:00 p.m., the Fleur-de-Lis audi. I still don't know what TRP stands for, but we're in it, so it'll be awesome. The fact that we're still cramming our choreo and our costumes is completely irrelevant.