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i've come across pages from my psych assignment in my freshmen year in la salle avenue. it wasn't that awful. my sentences were mostly grammatically correct and the instructor was generous. but two years before that i was rebuked by a high school teacher for over-reaching on a paperwork -- i featured three topics instead of one with photos. i didn't compose it badly but was nonetheless announced to the class as an example of what-not-to-do for the subject task. in retrospect, i think the teacher was a bit backward in her approach. my words may not have been high-falluting or great sounding as written on the essay she gave the highest mark on but it was certainly far from the tedious outputs of some classmates.

during my schooldays and a couple of years post-grad the typewriter was my fantasy possession. getting through class would have been breezier if i owned just a compact word device but since we were hard-up -- that and the most advanced calculator for my high school trigonometry woes were not the top ranked priorities in our family's financial scheme. by the time i was able to afford and purchase a portable word processor, the laptop was all the rage and i have to slowly succumb to all things digital and its peripheries.

gazing through old photographs, my mom certainly had the words, especially with her captions. her handwriting were always top class as presented in our family albums and old letters. i grew up dusting and organizing her collection of books. she was an avid hoarder and a wide reader and a speckle of her good qualities rub off on me. so when i was thrown in the deep ends of the chiz pits in adulthood, i may have been grasping for breath and got categorized as highly-peculiar without the lenses but the view is bereft of uncivilized edicts of the snobbish ton.

some tiny ants though have attacked a copy of my jane austen classic and three works by dickens. they simply adore a taste of singapore paper. to utilize an overhyped slang, there's no use crying over spilled milk as i can easily avail of copies from an oxfam branch. a 1991 magic johnson paperback profile was heavily battered and needed to be thrown away but i found another copy untouched and all pages secured -- quite a charm.

next up -- road trip through southern negros.