I remarked to my roommate Jamie that the weather we were experiencing at the Xavierville house reminds me so much of spring - the odd mixture of nippy temperature and the high sun which attempt to cancel each other out but to no avail. Of course the best part is you have every excuse to layer as many pieces of contradictory clothing as you can - provided that you're all for wearing contradictory clothing at one time. At least now I can wear my lavender scarf with my green jacket, which is nowadays a staple, along with jeans and rubber shoes. It's just too cold to persist in wearing sandals.

Today was also the kind of weather to hang out with friends. I took the chance and asked Beng if she wanted to have lunch in UP before I head out for LB. Told her the good news: I got the last batch of recommendation letters, my one last thorn and managed to FedEx the first parcel, both of which happened within an hour. I was that desperate to get the parcel out of my hand, out of my hair and out of my dreams.

My preoccupation last week was all about freaking out about the letters, so much so that one night I dreamt of my recommender. Fortunately, he didn't hide from me in that episode. Good sign.

After dispensing with the necessary tasks last night, I was too tired from freaking out and subsisting in four bananas before going to my Latin Am class earlier in the afternoon, but not too long before deciding on picking up my usual fare when I am too tired to formulate my evening diet and factoring in the contents of my wallet, which in this case would be Gardenia pan de sal, Century tuna flakes in oil and, my treat for the day, Sprite Ice.

It wasn't until this morning that I was able to appreciate the rays filtering in the living room, with no letters to think of and the prospect of going home to LB sooner than expected.

This weekend, I will turn in yet another year. There is no arguing about the whole business of age, in which I've established a long time ago that I will never feel my numerical age. Last Saturday, I, along with some of my high school barkada celebrated my and Marian's birthdays. Ian, as they say, has long left the safe numerical confines of the calendar while I am on my way.

Some highlights of that party and it was already a sign that we're getting on with the years - it was a potluck party. (At least, Jamie made me realize this.)

Highlights, highlights: Teny and I tried to make hummus to go with the pita bread and overdid the garlic; experimented with the McCormick pack of Pesto and came up with pesto carbonara ala Amy and Teny; a wine bottle being opened by three people looking away, trying to avoid the missile cork; a very, very interesting dinner and the conversation that went along with it; having to push Teny's Crosswind - it failed to start up after she got it out of the garage - forward and backward more than I can remember (at 12 midnight, take note); still high from the sugar of the dessert, stayed up long enough to watch DVDs of Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants and Pretty in Pink (I'm sure if we were still awake for a third, I would've opted for Bagets); managing through Sunday with three hours of sleep.

Yeah, in other words, I'm over most of the crap that went along the last two weeks of waiting and wondering about crucial application requirements and I actually have the comprehension to compose this post. There are still some items left in the online application but at least there's the personal statement left.

How I would tell my life in 500 words is a subject for another entry.