one of those times i just have to write. with helluva lot of requirements under my belt. this doesn't really feel good. but then again. it never does.

Summer 07 was my worst summer ever.
2.5 and 3.0
Days cooped behind a blinking screen.
Loneliness.
Hours warped inside a fictitious world.
Minutes soon forgotten.
Sweat.

Two classes.
2.5 and 3.0.

I took up Psychology 101 last summer.
For shifting. For knowledge.
I had no idea what i was getting in to.

Take up (insert very 'unoable' prof name here).
Don't take David.
"Terror yun."

"Pero astig."

So, stick to the 'astig' part.
Take his class.

Nah, this is just for shifting. Yeah.

Only in one's death do you realize one's influence. Power.
Think of 'mentor.'
Think of 'idol.'

Hard exams. Dopamine.

One in one's death does one realize how much time he has wasted, playing world of warcraft instead of talking. Listening.
For cellphones rob us of our inner voice. Our mind.

"For when I die, when I am ready to die... I wish for no trouble."

2 hours. Dreaded. For no goddamn reason.

10 hours per week.

"After one month, have you learned anything?"

No, maybe not.
After 16 years living, no, maybe i haven't learned anything.

"I would take a shovel, a radio, and, aha, a change of clothes, of course."

Stress. Learning.
Beneath the only neurological psychologist in the Philippines.
Under is the better word.

"And I would dig. For I want no one else to be troubled."

Dopamine. Competing with a stupid Rogue character for neurons, for ideas, for rationale.

"And then, I shall be ready to meet my Maker, Master if you wish, whoever, or whatever she is."

I was known only as "Mr. Celera."

Only in his death do I realize, maybe i wasted his time. Maybe I really haven't learned anything.
Maybe.

Phoenix?
Oh yeah.

Professor Fredegusto David, I hope i haven't wasted your time.
And I, if not we, miss you.