Last week was such a week.
Monday started off pretty well, actually. I was holed up in my sister's dorm, reviewing Oblicon basics because everytime my professor opens his mouth to speak, I only understand half of what he says. The rest of the words come across as Greek...and Spanish, Latin and some Parseltongue. I just knew I was going to be in trouble if I don't resolve the muddle in my head.
On Tuesday, I woke up pretty early to meet up with some classmates. We were going to review some of the basic Oblicon concepts which made me feel relieved somewhat, even if it was just for a teeny percentage. We were going to make some noise in the library so I asked them if they wanted to study in the apartment where I live near our school and they agreed to do so.
Now I love my apartment because it's such a small place yet very cozy. It was a good find actually because it did not cost much to rent the place. My little room in the second floor lets just enough sunlight in and has this old attic feel. In one end of the room, the ceiling slants and I positioned my bed under that area so as to conserve space and because there is a window by the junction where the slant meets a rather short strip of a wall before hitting the floor. Every morning, when I sleep through my alarm clock (which I always do), the birds outside my window wake me up.
I vividly remember the sight that greeted me when I laid my feet on the steps which led to my apartment. All the windows were flung open like outstretched arms. I thought our helper was inside but I could hear no signs of activity. I called her name as I moved towards the front door. I held the doorknob and realized that it was unlocked but the door was shut because the deadbolt was still fastened. Feeling rather ominous now, my eyes caught something black sticking out of the window like a garter snake. Moving closer, I realized that the black thing was the rubber strip that held the window screen in place. That was when I realized that the screen had been slashed open. It now hung by the remaining hinges like a tongue lolling out of an open mouth.
Someone had tried to break into my apartment when I was with my sister during the weekend.
Bryan put his arm through the window and tried to open the doorknob but he couldn't reach it. It seemed like the would-be criminal thought of that as a way to get the door open. Come to think of it, what would he carry away if he had succeeded in entering my apartment? The only thing of value inside would be my small TV, my sister's radio and the refrigerator if he would succeed in bringing it outside. Other than that, he can help himself to my plates, glasses, cutlery, clothes and even my case readings.
A survey of the place revealed that nothing was missing, nothing had been stolen. Even the laundry which hung on a clothes line by the open windows had been spared. By the end of the day, the window screen was fixed and reinforced and I was curled up on the floor, at the foot of my bed, thanking God for blessing the would-be criminal with short arms.
Wednesday was a bit more laid back but the thought of the attempted break-in was still gnawing at my mind. While writing digests, I watched the guys take the stage in AI6 and was pretty happy to see them back in form. My favorite among the guys was Blake Lewis although I would agree with Randy and Simon that he did sound too much like Jamiroquai except for the beatboxing interlude. I most definitely did not agree with all the praise-heaping for Chris Richardson. He sounds like Justin Timberlake on high pitch and he has a tendency to be eaten up by the background, shaved head and all. As for Sanjaya Malakar, the soothing voice makes a great listen...when my eyes are closed. When I open my eyes to look at him, all that evaporates. He moves around the stage with some awkward stiffness devoid of spontaneity. Of course, some remnant of nationalistic pride bubbled within me as I watched AJ Tabaldo perform and the bubbling became vigorous popping when he got heaped all sorts of praises courtesy of the judges. The popping would be transformed to vigorous simmering come Friday night when AJ got booted out rather unfairly, in my opinion.
I proceeded to watch the ladies Thursday night but not before I slipped and stumbled on the middle of the street in the afternoon (still could not figure out how that happened) as I walked towards the gate of my apartment, arms full with my backpack and books. I was in my house shorts and I landed on my right knee to stop myself from falling flat on the road. That would be the first time in about seventeen years that I scraped my knee. I later got a text from my mother, telling me that Dr. Luisa Pollentes had died of complications due to cancer. I believe she was in her 30s. She was one of my sister's good friends and former ballet teacher. The news left my sister in a mess that night.
Friday morning left me feeling a bit groggy with just three hours of sleep but with Melinda Doolittle's rendition of "My Funny Valentine" still ringing in my ears. I had studied (and did my handwritten notes for FIVE canons) for my Leg Prof class because of a gut feeling (which was usually right) that I was going to be called. Consti, my first period class, was given second priority because I had already been called exactly a week before.
In class, one of my girl classmates was called to discuss Soliven vs. Makasiar, a case I digested for the class digest pool. There was a rather curious question fielded which left the class bewildered. He called on my other classmates one by one and each one who was called begged off, saying he had not read the case. I could detect a hint of exasperation on his voice already when he asked "Did anybody read the case?" Uh-oh. There was an agreement in the class that we had to take responsibility for the case we digested so even if my arms and legs were objecting violently, I raised my hand and stood up to face a question the answer to which seemed to dwell on one of the rocks which make up the rings of Saturn.
After what seemed like eternity, I was told to sit so I went back to reviewing for Leg Prof while keeping one ear on alert just in case I get called again. When my classmate who was reciting was finally done, all of the guys in the class became fidgety, anticipating that, as tradition dictates, one of them was going to get called next.
All of the screws in my head came loose when I heard my name loudly spoken in the almost quiet classroom. I looked up from my notebook to meet my professor's gaze as he asked me "Would you like to continue the discussion?" Uh...duh! NO!
I know it took me an eternity to answer "Yes, sir." All of a sudden, I had to muster all my strength just to push myself off the table into a standing position. As my teacher went through the reading list, I motioned to my seatmate Joey (my saviour), asking if I could borrow her copy of the digests for some of the cases which she placed in front of me. I began to furtively flip through the pages with cold, shaking hands while sarcastically telling myself "So much for thinking you won't get called."
It was like being forced into an arranged marriage, meeting your potential lifemate for the first time. I was seeing these cases for the first time too! I badly needed a whack in the head and hands around my shoulders to shake me into my senses.
"Okay, let's discuss Borjal vs. CA."
Borjal? Glub glub glub...I was sinking in the mire - FAST! If I mess up and my teacher erupts like a volcano, spewing red hot lava to the whole class thanks to my non-eloquence, there would be no one to blame but me and my non-existent clairvoyance.
I noticed that the petitioners were the late Art Borjal and the late Max Soliven, two columnists for the Philippine Star. When I mentioned Borjal's name, my teacher then launched into telling the class about his physical incapacity and how he died. I took advantage of that time just to skim through the digests. In the back of my mind, I whispered in a rush "Lord, help me, please. If I mess up, the professor will certainly blow his top this time. I swear this will never happen again. I'll never be caught unprepared next time."
I never did get to finish reading the digest but during my recitation for that case, and for two cases following that, I would glance into the digest every once in a while and for one reason or another, my eyes would always fall on the key words in every paragraph. I don't know where the words came from and how I managed to say what I said but the entire process seemed almost free-flowing like an open faucet.
Finally when I was done and asked to take my seat, I returned the digests to Joey, thanking her for saving me and I uttered a silent prayer, thanking God for staying true to His promise that He will provide in instances which do not even involve food. But I made an urgent mental note and virtually spanked myself for coming to class unprepared. I promised myself there will never be a next time.
And just a thought, I never did get called for LegProf.
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Finally Jepoy's mama posted the first couple of pictures of my newest niece Patricia Aimee. Trish looks just like her "kuya" Jepoy! Such cuteness!
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