Good morning, sir!

For the past few, err, many weeks, I’ve been toiling for what my former self called ‘academics’. That would be hell lots of paper work to read, type, retype, reread, edit, et blah blah blah. I’ve been always running out of words to say when I do that. I always said to my classmates, “I dun like what I’m doing. May I ask your permission to kill myself with that rusty utility knife on top of that plastic desk over there?”.

Just imagine: you looked like you’re the smartest kid in town and everyone seems to depend on you–from fancy little ‘ice tea’ treats in our canteen, to just doing a whole newspaper alone. If I were them, I might have killed myself doing everything alone for the sake of the whole student body. But I am what I am, and mom and dad created me like this–a brainiacal Tyrannosaurus rex.

Just because I have a laptop doesn’t mean I can accomplish everything in a snap. As if I am the only one who brings his own laptop in school (though it’s pretty obvious that I started the laptop fashion in our campus after winning it in on Eat Bulaga. Talk about students getting nervous on exposing their third world notebook in public.)

However, I realized this fact: even if I whine about getting all the load from them, I have no choice. Leave them do the rest of the school work and present guano for dinner? I like packing it first before putting it beneath our camote plot so they can’t smell it.

I’m so swallowed by the stressful routine of our school, no matter how hard I try to be as best looking as possible, too much gulping of work would make you end up like this:

Can somebaddie buy me a pack of cold cream? I’m flaky already.

Or more creatively, for four years of waiting for your University administration to give you the perks you need in broadcast journalism, you might as well need to purchase Secretagogue if you think your hormones behave like your grandfather’s.

No wonder our security guards greet me when I enter the gates wearing an alienating polo shirt instead of the standard CvSU ‘microwave oven’ uniform because they think I am the one who gives their salaries monthly. Hahaha.

Just for the sake of updating. Now, back to my self. Exclamation mark.

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