After about a week of inactivity (again), I bring to you faithful (and non-existent) readers part 2 of my updates on what I've been doing for the last two months!

... Though, really, all the important stuff was said in that last post. All I have left are commentary on music and games and things like that.

( Music part )

Hmm what else can I talk about? I think I'll talk about school some more, now that the academic stuff is done with.

Last Saturday, I went to school to take a special, 4-minute oral exam at 6:16 to 6:20 PM (!!!). I heard it was objective. So I declared I would study the previous night -- which I could not do because I pretty much gave into my gaming tendencies and played all night. So I declared I would study after lunch before I left for school. Unfortunately, I went to sleep from 1 all the way to 3, at which time I had to get ready to leave.

When I did get to school, I discovered the teacher was already running late. So I sat outside and chatted. And chatted. And chatted some more. I finally got to take my exam at 6:50. It was an awesome hour spent waiting around -- no, seriously. I seriously really really want to do that again. And if anybody has not sensed the sarcasm in those lines, please send his or her brain to the hospital to get checked for ability to read verbal stress cues.

And apparently Jejo the Great Eater of Burgers did not get his preferred schedule, so I can still go home with him Fridays next semester. (hooray~!) Which means more Mushroom Burger stopovers. (HOORAY~!) And more string potato chips for the dog. (HOOOORAYY, because that's about the only thing we're sure it'll eat.)

I got all my classes for next semester nice and tidy, so now I just need to sit back and wait for enrollment.

Dear god, what the hell am I doing. I just skipped posting for over two months because I was lazy. ::stares blankly at blog::

Well, the reasons are actually quite simple. I don't view blogging as necessary, really, so I blog whenever I feel like it. Of course, I feel a sense of responsibility once in a while since I claim that this is supposed to be some sort of record of how I think and everything, so yeah.

That aside, let's go over to the life news for now~ I'll be splitting this into multiple parts because it'll be really really really long if I put it in one go. So there. XD

1. School Stuff

I was recently reminded of fourth year. I didn't bother picking on people for a long time before, since it was a Wednesday class we were going to submit our handouts on. I figured that we could probably cram on Tuesday. Because of this, I decided to procrastinate too. In fact, our group leader supported this by saying that the part I was assigned to do was sort of not-really-relevant so I could just not to do it. So I weathered my weekend away.

And then Tuesday came. And we met as a group before our second, 11:30-1:00, Bio class.

One of our groupmates insisted that it was not enough that I do the analysis part only and not the relatively irrelevant part "because the work was divided earlier on". That, and "it's still within our scope".

The reply was, of course, "barely" and "but all right".

The reminder of fourth year came that evening.

While I was putting together the handout (yes, more reminders of STR), I was waiting for everyone else to send in their bulleted points for it. Or even just their writeups, since I had to analyze before we could do anything. Lo and behold, the same groupmate who insisted I do unnecessary work? He was staying out of his house until twelve PM.

Luckily, the teacher decided to move the submission to Friday, so we managed to scrape by that somehow. But of course the handout could not be completed, because one person had not submitted their parts as of 8:20 AM of Friday, the time I need to leave home to get to school barely in the nick of time. Of course, thanks to some trick of fate, I ended up a little late for our first class.

Amongst five groupmates, two of them were responsible enough to get their parts to me on time, before Wednesday. One of them was me, of course, and I finished the part I was suddenly assigned to do in a rush. One, the one who stayed out until midnight, gave me a paragraph that was obviously plagiarized (somebody else managed to find it using "google-fu"; it was from txtmania.com "for txtmates all over the world!") and later claimed that "it's okay, because it's only for a handout!". The other, who submitted at 9 AM on the day we needed a prepared, printed copy by 11:00, calmly said that "I sent something" and nothing else.

... Well, I hauled my laptop into class that day. The result was this conversation right at the start of our 11:00 class:
Groupmate 1: ::typing on laptop:: What do we tell Ma'am!?
Me: You could just tell the truth. We couldn't finish because some half-assed groupmated decided to send in his part at 9 AM.
Groupmate 1: ::obviously ignoring me:: What do we tell Ma'am?!

Yeah, it was very productive.

Idiots aside, the semester is ending soon. It looks like I can retain my scholarships, and somehow manage to scrape by in English (after a disastrous first long test about a poem involving pink elephants). I also got better at bowling, since I discovered I just need to bump my knee against the ground to aim properly.

I liked my schedule this semester. And though there are a few bothers, I liked my blockmates. It's more than I can say for first year Pisay, definitely.

I hope my next semester is good too.

I was asked last night how to take a test well.

Since I sort of promised at the end of last post that I'd put up more about UPCAT, ACET, or DLSUCET sometime, I figured this was as good a reason as any. I discovered something about the UPCAT, by the way. Apparently it's always held during August 1 and 2. It just so happened that last year August 1 and 2 fell on a weekend, so I mistakenly assumed it was always during the first weekend of August.

I would rather not repeat the usual advice here. You guys should know already that you should sleep well (or however much you can), eat a decent meal, and bring pencils, an eraser, and snacks. I'm not numbering what I write here, since I'll be writing stream-of-consciousness style as the thoughts come to me.

( Advice under the cut! )
... That was a bit long. Oh well.

Oh, and, I didn't follow all the things on this list when I took the exam. Some of them are observations from after taking it.

Really, the most important thing is to relax and be confident. It's better than all the advice in there combined.

I just realized it's already July, which means that I've been going to school for 3 weeks already.

Going to school is tiring. It takes over an hour by three modes of transport. Namely, walking, train, and jeepney. I never realized how badly tiring it all was until I crashed a week ago and slept a clean 12 hours. Of course, this was partially because I was crossing the breadth of UP practically every day during that time. I've since learned to keep to one half of it.

And since it's already July, that means a new batch of people are going to be taking the UPCAT in about a month. That of course includes the many people from PSHS. UPCAT marks the beginning of the three or four months during which most CETs take place in this country. I believe I've already commented on how I felt after the UPCAT somewhere here. I realize that I might not have done the same for the Ateneo or La Salle exams.

In any case, since so many people have been asking me for help on what's covered, how the exams are, and so on and so forth, I decided to just make a single post here and direct everybody to it. And so we go on to the meat of this post. All comments here are my personal views after taking the exam last year (2008) and are thus not reflective of the general consensus of the population, reliant on actual data, or anything of the sort. It is always best to go to the official sites for these exams for up-to-date information. I figured I should bold that since I might have flamers hanging around.

University of the Philippines
UP has the earliest exam, usually during the first weekend of August. It's the easiest for most people, but also the only one that has the "Right minus wrong" system. To be precise, it uses (Right - (1/4)Wrong) = Score. Note the absence of a penalty for a blank answer.

The exam is divided into tests for Science, Mathematics, and Language in both English and Filipino. There is no Logical Reasoning portion, since that's sort of integrated into the other parts. It's roughly three-and-a-half to four hours long, with Mathematics taking the longest period. Snacks and drinks are to be brought in, and the time slot for the exam is either Saturday or Sunday, morning or afternoon. There is no empirical evidence to suggest that any one slot is better than the rest, but according to the Oblation Scholars data, more of the top 50 come from the morning sessions than the afternoon sessions.

On the questions, none of them are particularly hard, save for a few "advanced" questions during the Science portion. Everything in the Mathematics portion can be solved with Algebra, Geometry, and basic Trigonometry. And, I must add, there are no questions that will take more than five minutes to solve. In fact, the first part is almost a review of grade-school math. Including Chart-Reading. Chart Reading. Make of the emphasis what you will.

Taking the exam here is actually partially luck as well. I've heard of a salutatorian of a school failing because his paper flew onto the ground... which was wet from rain. The best places to take the exam are, according to my friends, College of Law (Malcolm Hall if my memory serves me right) and the newly-renovated buildings, which I take to be the College of Economics. College of Law has padded seats and air-conditioning. And it's pretty much the only place where you can take the test sitting on a soft seat. Seriously.

Ateneo de Manila University
Personally this was the exam which gave the most trouble. There are a number of very short tests, such as the test for logical reasoning, which lasts I think 5 minutes. This exam usually takes place in September, around the 2nd weekend. Once again, there are two sessions spread over two days. I forget off the top of my head the exact length of them (Or even if they were spread over one weekend or two), since not as many people ask me for times.

The exam covers the usual Math, Science, and Language trio, with Logical Reasoning thrown in. There's also an essay exam; the question for our batch was "Why do you want to go to the Ateneo?" So expect some philosophisizing, here and in the logical reasoning part. The Math here is slightly more complex than the UPCAT's, with some questions using more advanced trigonometry and geometry, but the Science was slightly easier, having none of the advanced problems the UPCAT had. The geometry here actually had the power theorems, I recall.

On taking the exam here, I was assigned to the high school building. Most of my friends were too, but I believe some people go to the grade school building for theirs. The only seats with half-tables are in the first year high school classrooms, I think. It's not actually that bad to take an exam with your opposing hand's "seat", since it allows you to swivel in your seat without the proctor complaning, opening up a little more area around which to place your eraser or pencils. If you can't adapt though, ask your proctor to switch your seat.

That said, make plans with your friends to eat along Katipunan afterwards. Wide variety of food, plus friends, equals happiness.

De La Salle University
This is the last of the "Big Three" exams, with its exams spread out along all Saturdays of October. It isn't as hard as the Ateneo exam, though the logical reasoning here requires more extensive scrutiny. Ateneo had three choices: "Yes", "No", and "Maybe". La Salle had five: "True", "Mostly True", "Equally likely to be True or False", "Mostly False", and "False". Logical reasoning for them uses the three-statement set-up. To clarify, it's like this:

People who help others sometimes just want attention.
Mother Teresa was a person who helped others.
Therefore, Mother Teresa just wanted attention.

While the exact wording may be wrong, the idea is the same as one of the actual questions used on us last year. The math was nothing particularly spectacular, about the same level as UP, but slightly higher. I think power theorems also appeared here, but I can't remember very well. I had a stomachache during the math part here. I finished early and went to sleep for about thirty minutes, at which point the next exam began. Also, this exam also has an essay. They usually give you a choice of two topics. The topic I remember choosing was "The Effect of Video Games on Today's Youth".

All the rooms in the main buildings of La Salle are air-conditioned, but the seats are all half-seats I believe, unless you get a conference room. Make sure you know which gate to enter through though; the school actually named the gates, but the test slips give you a numerical number for each gate. Gate 1 is properly called the South Gate, I think.

Other General Stuff
All exams have a break in the middle. Although I think UP doesn't have any actually allotted, you're free to eat or drink at any point during the exam, making any period during which you have time a "break". One of my friends describes a dude who sat next to him bringing out a full pound of steak and mashed potatoes.

All the studying you do should be done before the day itself. It's better to be relaxed and comfy during the exam, I promise.

Get there on time. There is nothing worse than not being let into the room because you're five minutes late.

Pisay people: Take your review seriously. Earth Science actually shows up, and that's a first-year subject. Also, recall your 3rd year Physics. I promise, you will need them.

No calculators allowed. In any test.

Each exam has something "special" for their top awardees. UP offers the top 50 examinees a slot as an Oblation scholar, which gives free tuition and a stipend. Ateneo has two: Director's List, and Merit Scholars. I don't know the exact benefits for a Merit Scholar (the higher of the two), but the DLs have perks, such as free membership at their gym, priority at enrolment, etc. etc. but no stipends or tuition discounts. DLSU offers their top 60 a chance to be Star Scholars, which is basically an integrated scholarship until your masteral degree. It also gives you special opportunities, since they prioritize Star Scholars for exchange programs, give them extra career counseling, and so on and so forth (including, according to reports, a free laptop). But it's also the more stringent, with the school requiring an interview and other things for inclusion in the program.  All of them have orientations anyway, so listen to yours if they call you.

Decide your priority school. Some people choose to take the UP exam to "prepare" for the Ateneo or La Salle exams. Deciding this early will help you choose later on, I promise.

Other Other stuff, mainly about me.
I passed all three exams, okay. With special honors too. I might not be able to give tips on what exactly to study, since I didn't do that much studying, I can safely say that none of them had anything that was far out the usual Pisay curriculum.

... I think that's about it for the entrance exams. I suppose I can make the next post about other college-related topics, but I'll do those in due time. XD

It took two whole months for enough things to happen for me to post again.

That's a very long time.

For all intents and purposes, no, I haven't abandoned anything. At least I think not.

So I'd like to start from the most recent and the best thing that's happened all summer. I have a new laptop. A Compaq Presario CQ40, to be exact. Bought for 25,000 Php, with a RAM upgrade to 2 GB. Special thanks to Jejo and possibly Jut, Jan, and Carlo for all the input and help finding a good laptop for the below-30k price range. I just noticed that most of the people I know who're interested in computers have a J in their first names. Strange.

Anyway, due to the FreeDOS pre-installed OS, any inexperienced computer users might want to have the store install an OS for you.(None of the pre-formatted drives have NTFS format.) Windows XP doesn't have drivers for a SATA hard drive, and so it can't be installed directly. There's a technique called slipstream that basically has you make a modified XP installer CD so that you can install on it. Windows Vista installs properly, though there's a whole bunch of drivers you have to download to make everything work properly -- including drivers for the WiFi and modem, so make sure you have another computer you can download at least that from. I wasn't able to request for a Windows 7 Beta installer, but if you can find one, it might work as well.

That aside, Zuma is fun. I've managed to get my brother hooked on it too.

Next up is enrollment for UP freshmen.

I recently discovered that enrolling in Ateneo takes about 10 minutes. Then you go to the offices to confirm and such.

I would hate to rant about this, but... UP takes a bare minimum of 2 hours. That's assuming you know the layout of the place as well.

It takes longer if you're one of the following: A) DOST scholar, B) STFAP brackets C~E, or C) an Oblation scholar.

I understand that UP will not have the records for the DOST scholars in their computers. But why in the name of heaven, hell, and everything in between do they not have listings for their own tuition bracketing OR the 50 or so people who they've offered a special scholarship to!?

I wasted two hours of my life trudging in rain just to avail of my scholarship... I'm sure somebody out there gets a kick out of seeing people who've never been in UP before ask, "Where's Vinzon's?" with all the blank innocence of sheep being led to a slaughter.

In any case, I'd still advise people who've never been to Vinzon's to go there anyway. That's the only place to find out whether you can qualify for 3rd-party scholarships.

Third on my list of post-able happenings is, well, STR.

To all incoming fourth years: I have one piece of advice. If you ever find that one of your groupmates slacks off/disappears/goes AWOL/decides to suddenly get sick with the pox, get their parents' contact numbers. I cannot stress that enough.

And if you happen to have had the misfortune to read that warning late, consider asking your teacher if he/she could kindly withhold that person's right to their transcript or report card until after you've found them.

If both your groupmates go AWOL... well, it sucks to be you you can try to do as much as you can. If all else fails and it's still early in the year, get your teacher to split your group. More work in the long run, but at least you don't need to put up with people anymore.

I see somebody trying to look at my screen. I shall end this here for now.

Also: why is it so damn hot during the summer in this country!?

 ... I was fourteen, and staring up at a school that I felt would be my prison for four years.

Not that I didn't like Pisay, don't get me wrong, but I still feel as if I would have had a much easier time elsewhere. Easier, yes, but also probably far less pleasant. I call Pisay my 'prison' because it's pretty much trapped me there in terms of my choices.

I didn't want my parents to have to work so hard for me. In the end, they worked even harder for me.

I didn't want to have to spend so much time with people I didn't like -- a possibility back when I was in Saint Jude and didn't need to know more than half my class -- but in the end I had to spend much more time with people.

Yes, irony is always obvious in hindsight.

I don't think I've really transformed into somebody different. It's probably more of being able to reveal who I am now. Grade school (mine, at least) was not the best place for me. Not that Pisay probably was, but it was at least an environment better suited for me. I can't really explain things all that well, but a quick rundown of my four years might be in order.

During my first year, I was lazy. I will admit it now. I was lazy and went home mainly for sleep. I used to get home around 4 or 5, and I'd sleep until dinner at around 7, take a shower, then do whatever I needed to do for the two hours I had before I needed to sleep. Most often, I had nothing to do and so would just bum for those two hours. Occasionally I would need to go and work instead of sleep, but that wasn't so often.

And I think I was affected by my instincts from grade school back then. After first quarter, everybody was already struggling while I was still cruising along. I was the only person in my class who managed to achieve a good grade average back then. I became scared, I think. So I took the above schedule much more to heart and tried to force that grade average down.

I'm glad to say now that it didn't work so well. The sense of responsibility and the need to make sure my parents were happy balanced it out, so I never became truly "average". Still, I did come horribly close during that final quarter.

Now that that's done, I'll describe second year. Second year was the year when I discovered you could have friends in Pisay. Some of those temporary and not really so serious, but still friends. It was this year that I discovered how people used to see me. It was a good year for my id.

That year, I was in the "honors" section, as others described it. I took up the challenge set out by one of the teachers I still hold as the best I have had, and have a marvelous performance to show for that. There was nothing of what had happened in the first year, thanks in large part to the class I had been assigned to that year.

True, I didn't like all of them. But since I didn't like them, I came to realize a few more things about myself than I would have otherwise. It's a strange sort of give-and-take relationship. I didn't like my first class in general; that meant I continued on as I had in grade school. I didn't like my second class' select students; this meant that I learned something new about myself.

In any case, on to third year. This was the year that I decided I wanted to aim for highest honors. This was also the year that that aim became blurry. You see, my third year's set of teachers was... not exactly the ideal. For all honor-aimers, one kind of teacher is best. Not the best sort of teacher for learning, but the best sort of teacher for grades. Unfortunately, only I think one or two of my teachers were the best for grades. I didn't do as well as second year in terms of that, but I believe I did far better than I did in my first year.

The reason, you see, lies wholly in the fact that I was actually working in third year. This year is known in Pisay as the equalizer year, since this is the year that the entirety of the curriculum is firmly out of the realm of what was learned even in the most advanced private schools in Manila. In other words, this year was the do-or-die year for the slackers from first and second year, most likely including me.

I never really liked being disappointed, but I think now that I take it much better than most people. This was the year that I saw people break down, become depressed, or just plain give up. I was disappointed too, at times. But I never curled up into a ball and refused to try anymore. It was that nagging sense of responsibility again. I had to keep trying, because if I didn't, then there was no point in having continued for so long. That was how I thought.

Incidentally, I did often blame other people for my shortcomings that year. I won't deny that now. I still do so even today, but I will always admit to myself that I had some part in why I failed or didn't perform up to par. It's just that it's much harder to admit to other people that I have had shortcomings as well.

Moving along. Fourth year; final year. Like I said before, I neither liked my class nor my schedule. The only redeeming factor was the set of teachers. Unfortunately for my dream of getting to the highest honors list, they still were not the best for grades. But I got much more out of it in return, I think.

For one, I learned how to choose groupmates. For those who aren't in the know: when choosing groupmates for something, always consider how close you are and how willing you are to fight with or dislike them. The best groupmate would be the one you've been with for a minimum of 1 year, like a lot, is responsible at least for his/her part, and is snarky instead of vengeful. The second best is someone you don't really know or like, but don't mind not having as a part of your life afterwards. Of course, it helps if the dude's also highly responsible.

The worst groupmate is always the one you don't really know, but would like to have as a friend. The blame game always does that to a relationship.

Anyway, from this year I also learned that friends are still sometimes friends even after you don't see each other everyday or sometimes even for weeks at a time. It all depends on how well you still get along.

And I also learned that people do sometimes like me.

And I also learned that it is the worst kind of person who would like somebody expecting that the feeling is shared mutually even without the effort of going up to talk to the person in, well, person. Guys, it's a matter of respect to a girl to at least ask her out in person. I don't care if your girl didn't ask that of you.

And now those four years are gone, just like that. Time always seems so fast when you're going on the past. Days and weeks and months meld together, hard work seems easier, and thoughts seem farther. I can't even tell right now how much time I actually spent studying as opposed to bumming. I'm going off to college, and it seems so silly that all I can think about is how much fun I had playing games.

I guess it's that whole adult thing again.

It's a lot like how I've been so amused with Vocaloid these last few days. (I blame this on you, Benj, and your damn graduation funeral song.) It's a passing fancy, probably, that I'll enjoy in a few years when I've mellowed out again and'll think back on these last few weeks and laugh over how my brain became mush when faced with a song that pretty much says my high school life was a black hole.

And I should be getting to sleep now.

 Last night was prom.

Tonight is hell.

I'm not entirely sure how many people I made smile yesterday. I hope they were worth the painful feet and stomach I have today. Let this serve as a reminder never to take a cold shower during the second day of menstruation. I've got readings to read, chemistry handouts to study, and a biology thingum I don't know the details of because the paper is hiding somewhere in my bag. At least the 700 peso lipstick isn't as gone as I thought.

Yes, life is very good.

Somehow I want to go and find the people I really wanted to see me in a dress. I can't recall the last time I spoke with some of them. And, no, before rumors begin floating, most of those people are not male.

Ateneo has called me to an open (live-in) house. UP has asked for my (not-literal) hand in marriage as an Oblation scholar. La Salle is dreadfully silent, though they're supposed to ask an (marriage) interview of me.

Yes, choosing a college is like choosing somebody to be married to.

I have a few bits and pieces of poetry and nonsense scattered around my work area. One of them reads, "If we could talk like this forever, I'd wait for the moment I die." I'm not sure if whichever of my brain-children decided to write that, but it sounds wrong enough that I don't want to find out. Another reads, "Wings are not needed to fly. The life behind the clouds is bitter and sad; we shed those wings to forget that." I have a strange feeling that the same child thought of that too.

Is what I think and do right? Could there be a better choice I can't see now?

I don't know.

But the soup is warm in my stomach, and the coke is pleasantly cold.

The last few years, I've heard a fair bit about how teenagers tend to be emo and all that batshit half-insanity.

Today I stumbled upon a set of visual novels that touch on teenagers too. I haven't started them yet, but I probably will soon.

It startles me how much people "understand" teenagers. Works like these visual novels prove that. Elder people can understand the feeling of not exactly belonging, of being somewhere in between, and feeling alone. Unfortunately, they still haven't figured out why teenagers as an age group tend to feel these things.

I won't hide it right now. I often feel alone, but only because I more often than not am. I have some friends, but I will hide some things from even them. It's who I am. But I can realize that some people aren't like this by choice. The same actions can be performed for very different reasons. My reason is that I am like this. Another person's reason is so that he can fit in with his group. And so on and so forth.

As a writer, I need to be able to understand. It's practically a requirement. If a writer can't understand how other people think and feel, then it's the same as cutting cardboard to make puppets. There are many ways to interpret a character, but only if they move as humans really do. Cardboard does not cut it.

As a teenager about to leave teenage-ness, I can't help but think that I wasted my childhood. Childhood is the only time I can do some things. Things like randomly waste time and happily color those weird books. It's scary. It's as if I was never really a child, but a half-pint adult waiting for that signal of legal age to come around so that I could become a full adult. Sure, I play and lounge about and such, but like the adults I see glued to the telenobela screens every night, it's mainly to escape from a reality I know I'll have to face sometime. Being a teenager is supposed to help me get ready for the adult's responsibilities. After all, adult responsibilities have adult consequences. But where do a teenager's responsibilities fit on the sliding bar of adult versus child? It can't be as simple as somewhere in the middle, because, heck, we're deciding what to do with our lives right now. What we're going to do with the rest of our lives, in fact. We're deciding if we're going to start developing bad habits, or develop "life skills" or go enter the world early. But we have decisions like whether or not we're going to play with the dog now, or what game we want to play, or what story idea we want to put on paper.

It isn't easy being in between. Middle child syndrome notwithstanding. Being in between means we can't identify with the ones before, or the ones after, and often not even with each other. We're all growing and being different at the same time. Even if we lump each other into stereotypes like the nerd, the jock, the outcast, or the fluffy humpbunny called miss popular, it remains that many of us will not be as thin as one or two labels. Those labels tell us what others perceive us to be. What we perceive ourselves is often not that easy to understand.

Very few of the us today manage to understand ourselves. It sort of lends credence to the misunderstood teen stereotype. With all the beautiful shiny MTV whatevers, I-whatnots, and quasi-philosophical ramblings (such as this!), it's hard for us to read ourselves. Makes it much harder to try and understand somebody else, but yeah.

I'm trying to understand myself a little more here, too. Typing down or writing things helps, but sometimes it doesn't work. Quasi-, semi-, or pseudo-philosophy works fine for me. I'm just a not-quite adult trying to work my way into the adult world. I may not want to grow up, but I know I will. I may not be as smart, as talented, or as world-worthy as some of my peers, but hey, I'm working on it.

I need to be as good an adult as I can, after all. I've got parents and a doggie to care for.

Today, torture began first period.

Period 1: Math. Found out the homework was supposed to be done by pair. Translation: wasted part of my life doing something I didn't need to.

Period 2: Economics. The only period with any saving grace.

Period 3: Chemistry. Found out the only reason why I got a 35/40 instead of a 41/40 was because I was writing < and > wrong. Translation: wasted grade.

Period 4: English. Found out I got a 22/20 on the latest quiz. However, I was already eliminated from the competition running, and my should-have-been opponent scored lower than I did. Translation: wasted three books and a bonus.

Period 5: Homeroom. People were eating so happily while I was trying to do my job. When I thought of eating, there were 15 minutes left in the period -- not enough for a good lunch. Translation: mood worsens more.

Period 6: Lunch. Got left behind. Alone. With my terrible mood.

Period 7: Filipino. Found out there was a quiz about which epic I didn't know. I got one answer right by a very lucky guess. Translation: wasted grade.

Period 8: PE. Called for a turn at batting, but got waylaid by people stepping to the mat like they own it. And then some other section's girls arrived, and they got turns batting 'til they hit something. Waited for 40 minutes before anybody even acknowledged I called for a turn. I got two tries to bat, since the bell had rung, and both throws were off-throws. Translation: understanding of how invisible I am at anything, and how worthless my class seems to think I am at anything involving any physical activity at all.

Period 9: PE (extended). Was supposed to go with groupmates to work on Physics Problem Set. But one groupmate disappeared, the other was too bent on softball to even think of going without a game. Therefore, since one of the sections that was supposed to play was very late, we got to play. I already knew I was last on batting order -- and my classmates listed it in rough order of skill by their estimation. When I finally went up to bat, I wanted to leave behind my glasses with one of them, explaining I had skewed depth perception when my glasses were on. She insisted I keep them on, because "How can you see the ball!?" or something like that. Apparently seeing the dimples on the ball is more important than understanding exactly where in the three plains of space it is. So I kept them on. Three "balls" and two "strikes" later, I was called on not to swing at all. Even with my skewed depth perception, I could tell it was going to be a strike. And yet, when they yelled "NO" at the tops of their lungs, the part of my brain that recalled the times I didn't listen to them and failed hitting kept my hand back. And it was a strike. I was out. As I walked back towards the benches, I lifted my arm high up and released the bat. I was met with horrified looks and exclamations of "YOU DO NOT THROW THE BAT!". Even with assurances that, no, the bat was not thrown and yes, I was only doing so because I was absolutely certain there was not even a single ant behind me, I was told "Whatever" in that voice and with that look that said "If you were not human, you would have been euthanized by now." Translation: this sad blogger, who already knows she had little athletic ability in the first place, should probably do well not to ever play softball again.

Period 10: Physics. Due to the game, we had an unfinished problem set. Even with my groupmate's saying, "There's idle time when batting, we can do it then!" Translation: wasted grade. Again.

When your teammates decide that order of calling for a turn at practice is less essential than letting her best friend take a turn at batting next, that is teamwork.

When your teammates have taken three turns of batting each -- until they hit a bare minimum of one and maximum of whatever -- and you have never even held the bat yet, that is teamwork.

When your teammates let another section's girls take a couple of turns batting each for the same minima and maxima, even while you sit there at the side, that is teamwork.

When you finally bat and get shooed off the field because the bell has rung without even swinging a bat because of the above "practices", that is teamwork.

When you run to retrieve a ball, then find you're too far to reach the closest base with a single throw, so you throw it to another teammate who is closer and who promptly drops it, all the while a runner has done a homerun, and then you get told off for not throwing it to the nearest base, that is teamwork.

When you try to bat following their advice then don't even get to walk, and then they say "That's alright, she'll be the only out we get for the next five batters," that is teamwork.

When finally after a long day of little wounds you release the bat behind you, and then get killing glares for "throwing" the bat that could very well hurt somebody -- as if you didn't know -- that is teamwork.

When you finally understand how worthless you are to the team and begin plotting how to get sick in order to get out of ever playing again, that is teamwork.

Yes, I realize I have responsibilities like studying. Yes, I realize this has taken twenty precious minutes. Yes, I realize this is not my dark and depressed blog. Yes, I realize I am now officially ostracized for attempting injury to somebody else. Yes, I have no reason to be sad.

A couple of days ago, us seniors had our UPCAT. That would be, I think, the University of the Philippines College Admissions Test. Too long to say in one breath for most people, and very uncute. Therefore, UPCAT. Sounds like some weird stumbling cat.

Considering we had nearly two months' worth of Saturday classes in preparation for the exam, and not to mention the fact that most of those made me feel my brain had literally become mush over the summer, I was expecting something much harder. For some reason, the alien planet with its + being - and - being + and so on and so forth has failed to capture any such feelings of "oh, look! It was worth it losing sleepz and healthz andz..." I wonder how the other hundred applicants in my room felt about it. I hear my batchmates whine about one thing in particular: Filipino.

Now, I do not speak Filipino properly, at least not on the level of really fluent speakers. I'm not entirely certain how I was capable of answering the Filipino questions while my native speaker friends seem to have trouble with it. Well, the Atenistas and especially the American imports are exempt. The culture is understood to be very Filipino-friendly over there, I understand.

I recall this thought when I first got my test permit: "What's SOLAIR? And where is such a strangely named place?" Thanks to a map given out by the guidance, I was able to find it. And, believe it or not, my infamous luck struck again. It was at the edge of the known world. Well, not normally, no, but it looked like it on the devilishly disproportionate map. Also, not a living soul knew what the full term for SOLAIR was. Not even the die-hard UP-goers who've been there since first year.

All this pleasant reverie was broken up, unfortunately, by the existence of a periodical exam. I don't recall anymore how I felt, but I do recall sleeping a lot. A little too much, maybe, but still.

In any case, I do believe we were supposed to rest and review on the Friday after the exams. On the other hand, there was Reader's Theater. Reader's Theater, which, I may add, is a requirement in English, and I got arbitrarily assigned to work on the script. I do think the rest of my script writer-mate people forgot about it during the exams. I've no idea how that works, but since I was feeling that stab of responsibility, I did it. Finished it, for the most part. A couple of missing pages from my copy of the Iliad and this little boredom~ and all that went down the drain. I finished it, but I dare say it was slightly half-assed on my part.

Anyway, on to Saturday. I finally found out what SOLAIR was. School of Labor and Industrial Relations. Interestingly, they also have a website. Which I had to look at to recall it. Ah well, the effects of STR, Filipino, and a whole bunch of other things.

Today was enrollment. I brought along my laptop, due to the insistent calls of people to "bring entertainment" along for the hellishly long lines that they said were inevitable.

I assume those people did not have at least one parent going off and sneaking into the lines elsewhere while the child was busy finishing off in one place.

To be fair, even I wouldn't have finished so quickly had the lines been as long as a sized-up millipede. The little luck I had was used by the heavenly banks to split the line into two: surnames A thru J, and surnames K thru Z.

Guess how much my half of the line shortened after that announcement. No, the millipede did not turn into a centipede, nor did it turn into a scorpion. It turned into an ant. With the feelers and legs included. The wait time dropped from the time required to solve Fermat's Last Theorem to the time required for a twelve-year-old to solve a magic square. Possibly even less than that.

Coupled with my parents' powers of "I'll go ahead of you to the next line", I finished in about two hours all in all, including the ID picture taking. We were required to tie back our hair. Now, there are actually reasons why females want short hairs fluttering about their features. In my case, it was because, without the slimming effect granted by them, my face has the rough proportions of a well-sized watermelon. There's also the much smaller annoyance granted by the fact that the stylist at the salon explicitly told me not to tie my hair back. Ah well, if this becomes three thousand Php down the drain, I have something to blame

Four Truth. No, this did not suddenly become a self-help post. Truth, my dear friends, is the name of a section, along with Charm, Gluon, Graviton, and a few more. I wonder if the properties (and possibly the name) of Truth made the administration shoulder us with the 30 people we are in there. Much like how the Phoenix landed on Mars, I landed in this section with as much feeling as I entered my second year one -- a damp and dead blank.

Also, an hour or so after I left, the registrar's apparently finished off the class schedules. In my case, I'm afraid that with my luck used up, I was lumped in a section with four days of late dismissals. It seems that the powers-that-be have taken a sadistic enjoyment of betraying my wishes.



To be fair, my teacher list this time is as far from last year's as the Tangshan earthquake was from the gentle falls of rain people wanted so badly to have this summer. It's a comfort that at least if I cannot avoid the delicate toes of new people, I have a decent set of teachers I can depend on to make me learn something. My brain underwent massively accelerated apoptosis due to lack of use (or was it off-time overuse?) last year. No offense to the teachers I had, but I'm afraid my learning style was far from their teaching style. The same way that, say, kinetic learners have trouble learning from an auditory teaching style.

I'd like to believe all this good luck-bad luck is a coincidence. If not, then I cannot possibly conceive how I might survive without a number of non-public conference sessions with our as-of-yet unnamed guidance counselor. Now then, can anybody tell me how many negatives I just stringed?

As of this writing, I have just been informed I shall be in the only full class of 30 in the batch of 2009.

As of this writing, I have just been informed I shall remain in the only full class of 30 in the batch of 2009, with 27 other people whom I either do not speak with on a regular basis or do not know at all. And the other 2 people are not even people with whom I speak on a daily basis.

Needless to say, a good number of them shall be under threat of being thrown into a burning building. Or off Gaudi's masterpiece.

If I had known this would happen, I would have prayed to every last god I know of, including the relatively obscure ones I combed through while searching for names for a short story. It isn't funny when I consider praying to even maybe Zirnitra or Ninazu. There is no excuse for this sort of oversight. There is no excuse for this sort of sin against the humanity of a sad little neigh-seventeen year old girl whose only wish was for a nice peaceful year without worrying about stepping on the toes of politeness and propriety.

Last time I mentioned my luck was probably out with regards as to my schedule. I never expected the goddess of luck would turn her back on me so far as to shove me into a section like this. I think there was a word for this feeling somewhere, but I can't recall...

O, kami-sama, God, Tien Chu, or however else you want to be called, allow me at least the pleasure of being safe and sound at the end of the year. My mental stability depends on it. I never thought I would need to place my mental functions upon the hands of a supernatural being whose existence has not been proved, but I shall do so now.

... Please?

If not then just allow me a few moments of safe non-academic break periods at the end of the day. Nothing as drastic as getting dismissed at 1:40 on a day I need to be at school until 6:00 though, please.

... I have a feeling this feeling of unease won't be going away anytime soon.

Today was the orientation of all us poor sods who shall soon leave the hallowed halls of the high school we've grown to know inside out. I expected a bit more fanfare and excitement, though considering I arrived a little late it may be said that the little I saw of people running around socializing like rabbits procreate was interesting.

In just a little over six days, an hour and thirty minutes, it shall be June the second. The first day of school, and undeniably close to the day when I shall leave behind the number beloved by all writers of anime. I have been average in most every way these last three years.

It's nearly time, I suppose, to say goodbye to dreams of grandeur. I somehow managed to retain some flickering of hope that I shall someday meet one of those special people who seem to be so plentiful when I watch television. Maybe to someday be transported into another world and be kidnapped or save some fool from such fate.

Alas and alack, those strange dreams are to be shelved for another lifetime, since I don't doubt the notoriety of the fourth year of high school. STR really are the beginnings of stress, after all. Not to mention the frightening prospect of acquiring another set of teachers like the one that I just left -- that is to say, a bunch that was pitied by every last alumnus and alumna who was ever asked.

I am fully determined to do one thing: to save some money. Those little pieces of paper that seem so scarce these days? Yes, those ones. I'm afraid there seems to have been a little patch of trouble with my resistance to overindulgence as of late, and there is less than half left of whatever I had originally saved. Perhaps a part-time job would be in order, if I can manage to receive a favorable result from the schedule lottery played by the powers-that-be which reside in the registrar's office. I feel all my luck having been used up, unfortunately, and I would place my bets on my being shelved into one of those sad sections which have less than their appropriate amount of decent free periods.

However! I shouldn't look upon this last leg of this like some little maya bird pondering whether a hawk is going to come over and chew on its leg! In spite of the three-hundred-ton weight upon my shoulders (which I believe would be dread of the upcoming events) and the return of the neigh-daily hour and a half (and more!) of travel between here and there, I shall persevere!

...Or so I would say, if I had the courage to say so. As it stands, it seems I shall enjoy this as much as I ever believed in the jolly fat red-coated man who only worked on Christmas Eve. That is to say, not much, and how does Santa manage to keep wearing that darn fur-lined coat anyway? No amount of logical reasoning can ever establish Santa as being capable of wearing that so near the Equator. Not even if he stays just an hour here.

This is beginning to sound like a beginning to some novel or whatever. I should stop soon. No amount of griping is going to get me anywhere.

Happy commercialism-driven Mother's Day to all moms, grandmoms, great-grandmoms, moms-to-be, hoping moms-to-be, etceteras.

Mm, in all honesty, while it is highly commercial, it makes sense to celebrate a mother's day. I mean, how else can a kid celebrate the precious-ness of his mom (even if she be devil enough to haul her all the way to the salon) considering the propensity of the Internet Generation to forget birthdays, anniversaries, etceteras? Not that we don't treasure our moms, though we may fight with them a lot, but it's the way of the world these days.

I find it a convenient excuse to haul my brother on an outing, for one.

No, I didn't get my mom flowers or a card. We got her pistachios. By we, we are the siblings of the family, save for our youngest who isn't even human is barely half a year old.

And, hey, even if you didn't get her a gift, you might as well hug and kiss her and don't forget to tell her those three words so often saved for the opposite gender around the same ageespecially if you're of the gender that doesn't do that or at least give her a call if you're more than an hour away by any means of transport or text, lazy cold-hearted kiddies.

Even if you can't do all that, well, just say, "Happy Mother's Day."

Yes, I am pragmatic. And I am not in a good mood. Blame the durned rain. If anybody has a problem with that, speak with my bloody shotgun.

Puppy's teeth are falling out.

Oh wait, almost nobody knows about the puppy.

This puppy, for the sakes of those who do not know, was given to me a few months back. The person who gave it to me stated that it's a poodle with labrador blood, probably.

In all honesty, while it has cute white/tan fur and starburst (yes, it's affectionately referred to as such; it's a dark greenish-blue-black color with an only slightly lighter yellowish shade around the edges of the iris) eyes, I would not use it to draw a dog for any reason.

It has been stated by various people around the house that she (yes, the puppy's a she) looks something like a cross between a rat, a monkey, a frog, and a pig. Note the absence of the word "dog" in the previous sentence. I personally describe her as "a cross between a rat and a frog who has mysteriously gained a canine version of scoliosis that causes her hindquarters to fall to within two inches off the ground, with a dash of canine blood. And maybe some caffeine in there somewhere. Especially right after a bath."

Add in the fact that she hates water (read: understatement) that's anywhere on her other than in her mouth, and we can somewhat understand why I have doubts about her pedigree.

(For the unenlightened, both Poodles and Labradors are game dogs. Which means, they're about as likely to hate water as a fish would. If thou doubtest me, view this.)

Oh, and, she's undeniably a human under that fur coat. She refuses to eat most things she ate just the last meal, she deliberately chooses what and when to eat (resulting in an astonishing difference in weight between just last night and this afternoon), prefers having food that has our scent on it somehow, and let's not forget her famous ability to copy how my sister sleeps. Yes, she positions herself a lot like how my little sister does while sleeping. I swear. She can even do a take on the "finger of doom" that my sister sometimes does while sleep-talking.

In any case, back to topic. She started losing teeth about two weeks ago, and she lost her first canine today. And we can't find it. Ah well. If there's anybody wondering how old she is, she's five months old. As far as I know, dogs typically start losing their equivalent of baby teeth at around 6 months.

Her surrogate mother allows all this and more. She, for one, sleeps in our room. With air-conditioning. And she shares pillows with us. I would think all this would be very very nice as a karmic reward for being in discomfort as you walk/run/do your business.

Durnmit, she even refuses to do her business while we look. How's that for a human pup?

It's funny just how much weight people can put on three things:
1) orderliness
2) cleanliness
3) appearance-ness; no, I am not kidding.

I mean, just a few days ago I got dragged kicking and screaming into a parlor. Where I sat for five entire hours, doing nothing more than the occasional standing, staring at a television set I could barely see for lack of eyeglasses, and going through a stack of magazines made up entirely of Good Housekeeping, Sense and Style, and OK! (a gossip magazine). There is a limit to boredom.

For all the havoc said torture wreaked upon my back muscles and bones, I shall be spared maybe a month or two of my mother's insistent demands that I do -something- to my hair.

Oh, what took five hours of my precious life? Thermal Rebonding. Known locally as just plain Rebond. Involves two long applications of chemicals, two rinsings, and three ironing sessions. And let's not forget that it takes five hours, for my length and thickness.

And it leaves a smell. A smell I can smell every time I enter the shower. A smell that causes my nasal nerves to constrict and complain.

... It is a small wonder how different people can perceive things. I, for example, am considered a dirt-loving, appearance-inconsiderate, has-never-before-touched-a-beauty-product slob by my own mother of all people. I, on the other hand, consider myself healthily and blissfully free of the stresses caused by incessant worries over public presentation, while still maintaining a more-or-less presentable appearance.

In the face of problems, just keep walking~

You just have to wonder how much time one needs to go around Singapore. Yes, I am in Singapore. Until the new year.

My dad said that we needed only about three days. But due to the fact that we often bummed around all day chatting and such, we kinda need a bit over two entire weeks. Especially considering that "we" there consists of me, Kate, DR, and Gero.

So far, we've gone wandering about in a variety of malls. And seen Orchard Road in the middle of their christmas lighting spree. I must admit, blue-white and violet looks very pretty together. Oh, and, we've also visited the magic known as the Singapore Book Fair. 'Tis most beautiful. I've bought many pretty books. XD

We're also gotten embroiled in the DnD adventure set in the city of Sharn. After cooking one poor half-elf in a kiln and possibly painting a room of bugs green with puke, we haven't done so much.

I'm running out of things to say.

I haven't posted in a very very long time. :: checks lj's timetable :: To be exact, about eight weeks.

So now I have decreed a reviver post. (Inner crowd cheers.)

Unfortunately, I have no idea what to write. (Inner crowd boos.)

I might as well get started with a rant. On English. Yes, -on- English, inner crowd, so shut up and be a good listener for once or else I'll tie you guys up with silk rope or something. (Inner crowd retreats and huddles in the corner.)

It all started about a week ago. Once upon a time, I was staring blankly out the window as I often do during English classes. I could hear the mayas chirping and jamming and being the ever-happy brown fuzzballs they are. I think I was supposed to be studying for some exam or another that was coming up soon after English, but I was, as I said, too busy staring out the window to do anything.

For those uninformed, my seat in English is right beside the window. And it's in the last row. Go surname.

Anyway, so there I was busily lulling myself to sleep with the vision of easily acing some exam or another, when from the deepest recesses of consciousness came a dull and flat voice saying...

"And you will be holding an exhibit."

Oh, okay. And I returned to lulling myself to sleep.

"It will be put up next week and you will be working with the other..."

I was half-asleep at this point.

"...And group one will do Arts and Crafts."

Oh cool. Oh wait. I woke up at this point to see the teacher's long and probably arthritic finger jabbed straight at the center person in my column. Wonderful. I could practically feel the joy blossoming under my still sleep-anesthetized emotions.

And then, lo and behold, the very next meeting...

"... Group one is Arts and Crafts..." And she was pointing at the opposite end of the room.

"... Group six will do..." All the fibers in my body were praying to their own separate gods, "Hiroshima."

Hiroshima, apparently, was her codeword for Japanese History.

That Friday, we met up with the other sections. We talked about what to do, and ma'am suggested that we focus on one aspect of history, specifically Bushido. Wonderful. So the entire plan between my section and the other sections there was to work with Bushido, Zen, and Ma'am beloved Hiroshima.

Unfortunately, this is where things began getting awry.

The person assigned to be Cesium's representative lost his phone. This wouldn't be so much of a problem if their secondary representative didn't have the habit of going into places where phone signals didn't reach.

As for Sodium, I only met their representative twice: once telling her there was a meeting, and the second time just yesterday.

Due to this, there were plenty of misunderstanding. Especially involving Cesium, which had created their own plan in the absence of contact with the other sections. Naturally, the teacher didn't recall any of the plans and approved the plan created by the two-section tandem, the plan created by Cesium, and the plan created by Sodium which apparently heard the plan created by the two-section tandem but thought they were doing all the work.

Yes, things are very confusing at this point.

Even worse, we had already asked for a part of the exhibit area since the first time all the sections met, and according to the person who asked for it, it was approved. When we were showed the floor plan for the venue, I just had to blow up internally.

The space we wanted was taken over by the Arts and Crafts group, in cooperation with the Religion group. The space given to us was right beside the entrance, without a single wall to hang posters on. Sure, there would be makeshift walls, but I don't think those can support the posters unless we weigh them down with boulders or something.

Naturally, we complained. The entire space design was focused on at least having one wall behind it all. When we tried to take our old space back, we were shoved off by saying that the Arts and Crafts group had already built their entire design on that area too. And, by the way, they had to be right beside the Religion group. I guess this is the result when you don't have anybody in the group truly chummy with the floor plan manager.

In the end, we traded with another group. It was for the wall, at least, but we never realized what we were going to do until we saw the space itself.

It was huge.

The largest space among all the groups, I think.

Thankfully the project was easily expandable to cover the extra square meters. I just hope we can do all this in time. And, inner crowd, you're allowed to crawl out now. (Inner crowd returns to normal seating.)

Oh, by the way, I'm obviously in a whole boatload of trouble. It's nearly 5, and I haven't done much by way of homework. And I need to leave the house tomorrow to buy some stuff. Yes, my friends, this very long post is actually a method of practicing the art of procrastination. (Inner crowd cheers and then disperses for more popcorn.)

Now I need to get out of here before my inner crowd comes back.

Just like last year, I won this year's dice party too.

Due to some freak accident, I got six 6's in my very first roll.

To those who realize not what that means: I should have taken everything on the table at that moment. Getting 6 of anything means that the game is automatically over.

Because I didn't want to have to pay for our food for the next few sundays, we decided that it would simply be treated as chong wan beatable only by 6 fours.

The game went amazingly quickly, too, with me winning both tui teng (getting 1 - 6 in a single roll).

Because of that, we finished the game within an hour, with me winning 830 pesos in total.

Unfortunately, because black is still considered less lucky than red, I'm required by tradition to treat people.

So, I took out 200 bucks to contribute to buying pizza.

Still, it was fun.

Two weeks ago, I took home a kitten. A small white fluffball with a long pencil-black tail and large graphite ears and eyes that were blue-gray and very strange to look at.

In all actuality, she (Yes, it was a she) was brought home in a 1 foot by half foot Zesto box with a lab gown donated by one of her population of mothers inside of it. She was to stay with me for the next sixty hours until Monday rolled around. She was tiny, really. I could carry her around on one hand without any trouble at all.

From what I learned about her (rather short) history, she was found by a group of dormers/honorary dormers in the back lobby one cold and rainy Thursday night. She found solace in the skirt of the... eldest in terms of biological age... of them (Really, now, she's probably one of the youngest if we took mental age), and found surrogate mothers in all of them.

For some reason I don't quite comprehend, they took her into class the next day and fed her milk. I praise all the angels of Heaven that they found out cats didn't take to chocolate very well (i.e., they die when fed too much - which is actually only even a little). In any case, she got by with a diet of milk, soft motherly chests and lab gowns, and human fingers.

Because the dorm doesn't allow pets, they had to find someone to take her home for the weekend. Thanks to a sudden mystical intervention of some sort, my mother allowed me to. So I took her home in the aforementioned Zesto box.

I'm not sure why, but it seemed as if her mothers had gotten her all tired. She slept all the way until the house and only woke up for five minutes before going back to sleep again. She then slept until around 2 AM.

Why do I know? Because my brother woke me up saying that my cat was awake and mewling for milk. So I got out of bed (And left behind a wonderful wonderful dream involving a person who I so long to hit and smack and make black and blue) and made for the kitchen counter under which she was stored. I was sleepy at the time, and I had already ensured that she would not have a single drop of milk more. I tried to put her back in the box for fear that she would get in trouble with the cockroaches - or worse, get eaten by rats bigger than she was. She kept jumping out. So, in a fit of my infamous temper, I got some tape.

No, sadistic people, I did NOT tape the poor kitten to the box.

I taped the box sides up so that the sides were higher.

When she still kept getting out, I pulled out the lab gown. And, would you know it, she began eating the leftovers at the bottom of the box. It was then that I knew: she was hungry for real food. With no way to get any good food at the moment, I left her eating her ham at the bottom of the box and returned to bed.

The next day, I got scolded for attempting to trap the cat inside the box. And everybody thought I stole food for the cat. Yes, I know I love cats and animals in general, but I will not steal food just to feed a cat if I know she has enough on her own and will not resort to hunting rats bigger than she is just to get enough.

The next day, she discovered the rest of the environment known as a kitchen. She found out that a kitchen smells amazingly good about noon and six in the evening. She also found out that the bottom of the refridgerator is the most amazing electric blanket in existence.

And it was thus that she spent eighteen hours of her day -- under a nice, three by four by six foot fridge.

We just left food for her so that she could eat whenever she wanted.

So, with that schedule, she grew fatter.

And fatter.

And fatter.

Until she grew a belly that was as big as a mini-siopao.

We figured she needed to poop. So, we readied some newspaper.

The next day, she pooped all over the kitchen. Some very wet, very brown, and obviously very stinky poop. I personally didn't get to witness any of the near-vomiting induced by her poop, but I did catch a whiff of it because some of it stuck to her tail, which she rubbed against my hand.

Nobody say I lie when I say a kitten who has been fed cow's milk has poop stinkier than a human with diarrhea.

Oh, and she didn't poop at all near the newspaper.

Let's see, what else?

She was made a mascot. For three mostly separate groups.

Also, her Zesto box got replaced by a yellow shoebox because my father felt generous and because I needed a way to get past the guards Monday morning.

Also, she has been called a perverted cat. And has become a fashion accesory ranging from scarf to necklace to shawl to hat. Yes, hat.

Now, she's at some dormer's house living the life of a spoilt-rotton princess.

Now why can't I have that kind of life?