It was entirely my fault. I just could not resist the temptation. Mas masarpa ang bawal, ika nga. And the itch was just unbearable.

But all this lead to my folly.

Yes, I am talking about my addiction to cotton buds and more importantly, to cleaning my ears.

It started last week. And everyday, I would surreptitiously take cotton buds from our glass shelf. Until, my outer ear canal became inflamed.

It is now swollen. My ear is swollen. I can’t open my mouth properly—let alone laugh. And I can’t hear well from my left ear.

Fortunately, I finally got the courage to tell mama about it yesterday. Dreams of becoming deaf like Beethoven drove me to confess. She gave me permission to go to the ENT doctor.

I did not sleep well last night, as I was periodically awakened by a pulsating, painful feeling in my ear. My neck muscles were tense. And I even thought I felt a hard, round cist under my ear and on my neck.

Today, my good friend Joey went to our house at around 730 am. I had not been capable of accompanying her for jogging this morning due to the pain. She risked her neck when she decided to accompany me to the doctor.

In her all blue jogging attire, we went to Faura to find an ENT clinic. We commuted by riding two jeeps. Without her, I would have fainted.

Unfortunately, the sENTro clinic opened at 9 am. We were 30 minutes early. And so, we waited in KFC and ate the letter A meal there. We had mashed potatoes instead of French Fries. And I waved goodbye to my self-imposed diet there.

Joey and I tried the other clinic at the Don Santiago Bldg but they opened at 1 pm. So we waited in the East-West Centre bldg, fourth floor, for the sENTro doctor. Who did not realize we were patients at first.

The diagnosis: Inflammation and swelling of the outer canal in my left ear due to overuse of cotton buds.

His advise: to take a cream antibiotic, with steroids (hello ears with abs!), an oral antibiotic every four hours, and to place drops of Peroxide when the pus began to leak. This will go on for seven days.

Also he told me to dip the cotton buds in alcohol (any kind will do) or peroxide (usually used for wound dressing) to clean my ears next time. And, that I should store the cotton buds in a cleaner place. Lastly, not to overdo the cleaning ears bit.

I had to pay Php 500 for the bill. After which, Joey and I proceeded to buy my medicine at the Mercury Drug outlet conveniently located in the first floor of the said building.

Joey and I rode the wrong jeep back to Vito Cruz. Anyway, we decided to walk from Quirino Ave. to La Salle Taft. Where, we endured the heat of the sun and the whizzing cars. Strange, but there are no sidewalks in many parts of Taft.

We finally took a jeep to Zobel Roxas. Joey dropped me off at our house and she proceeded to face the bearded dragon (her mom, who did not get mad after all due to her pity for me).

I am eternally gratefully to Joey.

And am currently still in pain.

Joey, Mary, Marce, and I have made a pact to get fit. Our game plan was to take a “jog”, which is actually more of a walk, everyday.

Mary and I decided to start at 530. We began yesterday. Mary missed called all of us at 5 am in the morning to allow us to prepare. As I had, spent the previous night chatting with Mary until 11:49pm, I was not too happy to be roused from my slumber.

The air nipped my legs and I hugged my square, Disney Princesses pillow. I ignored my ringing alarm, the tone set to Ate Izza singing Jonathan’s version of Alleluia. It was a sound guaranteed to remind anyone about the responsibilities of the day. But in the end, I awoke due to my rumbling tummy, which I proceeded to satisfy in the bathroom.

Mary and I met up in front of our green gate. I had failed to wake Marce because I was afraid she would hit me if I doused her with cold water. Joey, on the other hand, had warned us she would probably awaken at 6:00 am, at the least.

The world had a bluish tinge. A cold, sprightly wind was blowing, and this prevented us from sweating a lot. The two of us walked to the church in our jogging attire: big shirts, old sneakers—Mary wore jogging pants and I had leggings on. Mary kept our stuff in her black, belted bag.

Mary and I went to church to pray for a while. We then decided to walk through the Zapote road, all the while ignoring the hooting manongs. Around Sta. Cruz we walked, chatting and inhaling the fumes from passing jeepneys. We also tried to search for a certain someone’s house, which proved impossible for we did not know the address.

As we headed back to San Antonio, surprise, surprise—Mary spotted Joey in a white shirt and red pants. We brought Mary to her house and were allowed to drink water.

Joey and I then decided to walk back to Sta. Cruz. The sun was beginning to cast stronger rays of light. We toured Sta. Cruz, while searching for the houses of certain choir mates. All the while, we had the intention of asking for a glass of water.

Nicolei even spotted us on our way to Anne’s house. He was in a car, on his way to drop of someone. Joey and I decided to go to Ate Anna’s as well. Unfortunately, we got there just in time to watch them wave goodbye to us as they rode a maroon car. Frustration was setting in.

Luckily, we got up the courage to go to Anne’s. She was asleep when we got there. Also, she was not dressed for visitors. But the kind people prodded her awake. She proceeded to give us a glass of water.

Joey and I headed back to Zapote to say hello to Nico. He even invited er—us—for breakfast. Which we politely declined for it went against the grain of our dieting principle.
My toe was beginning to hurt as we reached San Antonio. My left ear was also beginning to ache more. After dropping Joey off, I shuffled my feet back home.

They were suspicious as to where I had gone. I got back at around 830 am. Mama had driven off to the office.

I took a bath. I even forgot about breakfast. And slept until lunch time, where I proceeded to eat my fill.

Oh to weigh at almost 200 pounds is such a sad thing.

At 2:00 am today, Marce and I were forced out of bed. Cold air nipped my toes and all I wanted to do was cuddle up with the fat one again, but we had our obligations to fulfill.

Simbang Gabi begins at December 16. And the Apostleship of Prayer Youth, from the National Shrine of the Sacred Heart was chosen to sing for the dawn mass. We sang for both the 400 am and 530 mass.

It was nice to hear that the Altos could be heard now. I am so happy that all our practices are paying off.

Also, the German Choir won third place at the Modern Languages Department/ Kinema Christmas Song Competition. We sang Stille Nacht in pajamas.

Faced with having no classes yesterday (Immaculate Concepcion), I had to come up with a way to get out of the house and get my allowance.

My good friend, Tammie Bugay (partner in crime during high school, constant companion during break time, singing mate also)invited me to the Centennial Celebration of St. Scholastica's College, Manila.

I was going to meet her outside the school, but something came up. Marce needed a loaf of bread and six candles to donate for the typhoon victims in Bicol. So, I had to buy that from Parklane Grocery (formerly Micaray Grocery, and before that, Popular Grocery).

I smilingly approached the guard behind the newly renovated Gate One facility. And he sweetly turned down my request. That evil man!!!!

I mean, hello, it was the Centennial Celebration-- that means they should let the alumni/ alumnae in. But because of the series of thefts and robberies (take note, an Overhead Projector was stolen), they have been implementing strict security measures.

I saw friends, who were now studying College there, and they were all surprised that the security did not allow me in. Add to the fact that the circular they received for the celebration yesterday stated that they were allowed to invite former students. And I had to bring Marce her contribution. Tammie and I were stumped.

Suddenly, my former Christian Doctrine teacher, Mrs. Dote came along. I approached her and explained the situation. And to my dismay, it began to rain. I started crying. Unfortunately, I also did not have a hanky.

As I desperately tried to wipe the flowing tears away (with my hands), Mrs. Dote took pity on me. Trying to distract me by saying that she had been talking to Ms. Manila (formerly P.E. teacher and now head of Security) that it was impossible for the thefts to have been done by outsiders. That it had probably been perpetuated by people inside. She walked with me to the guard and took me in.

People were beginning to stare. Manong guard took one look at my teary face and he waved me in with a painful smile on his face.

Tammie and I attended the mass presided on by Cardinal Rosales and a German (OSB) priest. And to my surprise I found that some Alumnae had been allowed to enter (as in women who had children of their own). I felt so cheated to see that they did not recognize newly graduated students with the same respect they regarded those other Scholasticans.

One day I shall have a building in honor of me-- *evil laughter* Watch out MAnong Guard.

Anyway, after that, I had to go to Luneta to do our project for PR. I spent the afternoon touring my groupmates (Van, Julie, Louie, and Andy) in Luneta. It was tiring but fun.

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A week before the storm, we celebrated the 18th year of Ms. Sergia Susanna Estrella at the Makati Shangrila Hotel, Quezon Ballroom-- Together with the Esers (High School classmates.

Wala lang. Enjoy talaga. Hahaha

Thank you to Ms. Dianne Wilwayco for the pictures.

After having a pleasant dream involving Chris Tiu, I heard that my father is coming home. Today.

Yes, You read that correctly.

This means that I wont be able to go out of the house. It also means that I have to follow my 6:00 P.m. curfew to the dot. I will probably gain weight and lose hair. My blood pressure will escalate. And my sister and I will often be found holed up in our room.

People ask me why i don't like my father. The thing is, I have learned to live without him. And More often than not, I find that he is an unnecessary occurrence in my life.

This is the cycle we go through every time he comes home. *People with fathers who work as seamen are familiar with this.*
First, he gives everyone money and tries to force himself into our lives. Next, he becomes bossy, paranoid, and often asks if we love him. Then, he becomes bad tempered, gets angry when I get home twenty five minutes late, and is often found watching the home shopping network. Finally, he realizes he has no money anymore, and he finds himself without a job. He tries to get a job and then he finally leaves us.

The people grow quiet. Everyone is on their toes for his next command. NO one laughs. Everyone is short tempered.

Even George, my 3-year old brother, thinks our dad is "Makulit" (to say the least).

We spend Christmas in our rooms with the lights turned off. Everyone is asleep (same with New YEar). But to be fair, he has learned to let up during the holidays. Though his reputation as a kill joy precedes him, even in my step mum's family.

I miss school. I miss my friends. I want to kill someone.

I saw my friend Patricia Dominguez yesterday on ANC. She was dead center on the screen. ANC. With the Ateneo de Manila College Glee Club. They were just on a European Concert, where they won the awards, sang for the Pope, etc.

Am still a trainee. But I cant move up the ladder because my good father wont allow me to train.

Want to kill someone.

Yes. I am bitter. And hung-up with old issues.

But I am being honest.

A dream of mine is to teach Filipino to High School students.

That may sound strange to many of my peers in school. Filipino is viewed as a dry, boring subject trying to bring dusty old tomes to light in the eyes of the younger generation. It may seem like a lost cause trying to prevent the eradication of a culture, which is now being quickly replaced by Mc. Donald's and Harry Potter.

But it seems I have an affinity with this subject. There are many teachers that i've encountered who have inspired me or who are inspiring me to rediscover my roots. I guess it also has something to do with the fact that I am a traditionalist.

But though I may somehow love it, my endurance for reading Old Tagalog Poetry and the like are approaching the limit.

Sure, I love Rizal's Noli Me Tangere for it's courage and beauty. But my heart can only take as much when reading about the plight of Sisa.

And Florante at Laura also happens to be a favorite of mine.

But for the love of God, I do not know how I can manage to report on Noli tomorrow and at the same time, prepare for a quiz on both Noli and Florante at Laura. Add to the fact that we have a long test next Wednesday on literature during the Spanish Period (from Gaspar Aquino de Belen's Pasyon to Noli me Tangere.)

Wish me luck.