Third week into classes and it still feels like my first semester back in '03. With probably the exception of last-minute class holidays (I will not be one of those Quel mentions in her teach-ins) and dwelling too much time on topics. (I later found out from the first batch of unfortunates I handled that they got sick and tired of me circling the words 'writer' and 'reader' on the whiteboard.)

Second barkada dad died last Friday (and come to think of it, the fourth batch parent since May). I remember Tito Lewis as a regular fixture at our slumber parties in high school - the guy one of us bumped into the kitchen when stocks of chips and drinks ran out at the attic where we usually squeezed ourselves in. He only exchanged a few words with us yet I personally was in awe of his presence. I only knew of the various books on Philippine history that he wrote and his association with the Jefferson Library (at Gil Puyat at the time). I would like to think that he passed away damned pleased, seeing Lubs and Ed doing well and with families of their own.

Finally: most of the weight have been lifted off my shoulders. I, however, still watch with a secret smile (or is it a smirk?). In a time when confusion and uncertainty form part of the backdrop of my day-to-day routine, I can only rely on my gut now. Gut help me now.