Okay, I am currently in dry labor. I don't know how much more time til this baby comes out, but I can sense a caesarean section coming. Who's the father? I'll explain later. For anyone's convenience, I shall highlight the highlights that made my 19th birthday peachy.

The week before this one was our Prelims week, meaning an average of 5 hours of sleep for that whole week. When the tests were almost over, fate didn't bounce back with reward but another blow. Before taking the last exam, I bought a pen in Dapitan and came back to class with my cellphone gone. Nadukutan ako. I wasn't exactly sad losing it, normal since I programmed myself to hinder attachment (I lost 2 phones last year, figure it out), but the week after proved that communuication technology is crucial. Anyhoo, I came back home and had a fight with my mom over a stupid haircut, yipee for me. I tried to challenge fate, made an attempt to reward myself. I went to Jmee's house that saturday for a drinking spree, that night was great. The day after wasn't. Sunday, I had my worst hang-over ever. So much for rewards. I was flat on my back the whole day, only getting up to vomit, clogged my sink with it; and everything I tried to consume came back out within an hour. I even tried eating candy and drinking water, thinking that at least sugar will give me energy since my tummy kicks out any matter it touches, but no, even water wasn't acceptable. My throat was dry, my head was spinning, I regurgitated my stomach empty, yipee times two. (I actually realized that this is the most effective diet that worked for me since I had no choice but to starve myself but I figured it was too creepy, a diet out of my control, plus the fact that it beats me up senesless).

This past week was so hectic for me, no, not the near-suicidal spells I used to have, I guess what made it bad was how it didn't differ from last year much. This week, I sweat my head off for split-second changes in schedules, holding a camera that weighed heavily on my emotions, etcetera. Work work work. This past week ends up with my birthday. I was hoping that my birthday week will be...more pacified than last year, but it was the same old story. (Last year, my birthday week was bogged down with BARAHA reherasals, if you know what I mean, then you get how UNpacified that was). I was hoping, but noooo....The week was filled with late night phone calls and sleepless nights, and three letters that electrecuted my brain every second like a broken light bulb--???. I was made to feel stupid and at fault for someone else's mistakes; what was funny ladies and gents is that the persecuted and gulity imposed the guilt on me. If I'll have to create an advocacy campaign against the one thing that strangles the life out of me, it will be: Don't commit yourself in the first place if you can't own up to it, you'll only end up messing up the lives of people around you. You can't do everything all at once, face it. This is what I get for trusting too much, not to say that it's bad, hey it's my marshmallow syndrome talking. It's not bad, this trust thing, the people around who get their knack off it makes it look bad. On my secondary reflection, I realized that most of the time, the people you held up in pedestals somehow get back at level with you, either by making themselves lowly by revealing intentionally or unintentionally their trash or you realize they're not any better than who you are, and you hear the pedestal sinking back in the ground just like that. After the whole charade, my bruised fruits of labor was just thrown in the can, making the work for the whole week worthless, senseless, just stress. (I'm so sorry Mr.grumpy, truly).

Another blow, last monday, my innards were taken out, burned, and put back in when the juniors dropped the bomb. OSA didn't approve our script. The comment was, Fatty and Floppy's plays were morbid, senseless, socially irrelevant and was such an eyesore that it can't even be salvaged with revisions. On a more personal note, they said the writer of "Good Mourning" my second stageplay, is psychotic. Ah, but Einstein was labeled stupid by his teachers before, so beware OSA. Art is in the eye of the beholder. I bow to Blockmate for believing so much in us, and his unwavering reserve to push through with our work. Too bad he is, if not the only one, then one in a few who had a firm position on it. I was really hurt about the cancellation, I know it's no one's fault. It's just that I loved writing this stageplay, not like when I wrote Baraha after constantly hitting my head wtih a metal canister. I loved this baby, it was a rewarding labor, and the conception was fun. Fatty and I talked about it, we agreed that it hurt so much because it was already in the works and you can't balme us for expecting then boom, it crashess all down. I love "Good Mourning", and it will live forever in me even if it wasn't given a chance to live on other people's lives. Haii...It was decided we were to make a new script after 6 days, tomorrow to be exact. I'm only in page five, so goodluck to me. For those who think it's easy coming up with a script, newsflash, it isn't. Oh wait, just to clear things up for the little birdie who realiated that a certain someone can even do it overnight and why can't we do it in 6 days, the script I'm pertaining to are stageplays. Writing stageplays is like giving birth to a baby, and I'm currently open only by 2 cm. so I'm reluctant to say that I'll have it finished by tomorrow. Tsk, better get a C-section.

This week muddled so bad that I even forgot to plan my own celebration. My friend told me to try and think not of the people around me and what'll they think but only think of what will make me happy. (haha, that's alot of think) That's so hard when you know you've got deadlines two days after. I managed to launch a two-part celebration. One on friday night with my highschool firends and journ friends who were by chance situated near our place that time. The second was last night, I had KADA over. I'm sorry to AA members I didn't get to invite, biglaan lang po, I'll make it up with a session of some sort. The weekend was an attempt, I wanted to be happy after a long hell week, it ended up...I don't know. Ended with a question, "Ganito ba maging 19?" and urm, optical hydration. History repaeated itself, yun na. But I was pretty much happy. HIndi ko alam kung sinasabi ko ba to para paniwalain kayo o paniwalain ang sarili ko. Pero, I was happy, truly. I love you guys, Switz, KADA, AA..for everything.

I don't feel 19, I feel like I'm 14. Maybe I stopped growing right there. Hey, what are we but kids just getting more responsibilities, right? Sigh, wish the last year of my teenage life (Eeek, it makes me shudder just thinking about that and writing it down) will be eventful...no wait, POSTITIVELY eventful. Positive e.g. me not crying or wallowing in pits of ennui. I better get back to labor, I need to regenerate my contractions. I wonder how Fatty's doing...hmmm...sheet! Tranquilizers and sedatives are kicking in, better fight it if I want to deliver this baby! EEkkk...