paamayim nekudotayim

I guess some evil thing had started taking its toll on my days.

I went to this remote place of the country that is a certain technological university in the west area, (seriously, how remote can it be in this tiny island) as part of my obligatory presence to support my ever so hopeless cause. I was supposed to stay there for the entire day, instead my head was spinning hard at around lunch time, so I decided to go back home. A couple of hours upon reaching home, I fell sound asleep for hours and hours, woke up in the middle of the night, the headache still lingered, ate some supper for the empty stomach, and went back to bed.

Woke up this morning, the headache still there. Wasn’t I right when I told you that school has becoming more of a cursed place for me with days? especially these days.

Any given day I would prefer to be at this other remote place of the country that is a certain industrial park at north edge of the island, where I have been doing projects for the past 10 weeks or so, and where sadly today is the first day I’m taking not-feeling-well day off from.

Into ninth week since I broke out of my idleness and started doing something proper for a change.

For a much much better change.

Struggling to adjust and settle, but all in all I’m excited with my new life. The first four weeks had been the greatest time I had since I don’t recall when.

On the fifth week, there was this one big nemesis. What do you call it, thing that always comes back to you just because you’ve ignored it every time it did so in the past? Things happen for at least one reason, ain’t that right? So shameful that there are all the reasons in the world, you still pretend that you don’t connect to any one of them.

But at least I’m now on to it. Now point your fingers elsewhere.

Despite being self-declared movie-enthusiast, I had not seen one single title for eight weeks! So over the weekend I decided to end that streak, and watched Nixon (because it’s Oliver Stone’s; who can resist.), and Bridge to Terabithia (because of the cute little girl).

Nixon is soooo my kind of movies; can’t wait to see JFK (another of Oliver Stone’s works). Saw Bobby (by Emilio Estevez) a few months back, so this is kind of completing the big picture of the 60s.

there’s nothing racial about curvature. or to be politically correct, the gene that defines curvature is not the one that defines your race.

realize that you are, too, _the_ curvature. statistics should be taught in the second grade. problem is, nobody likes maths. hence, the non-realization of the inner curvature.

i love this country.