otherwise engaged.

a random mental scrapbook for things rescued from the detritus of everyday, maintained
by an impossibly romantic, oftentimes obsessive compulsive, but always incredibly
unfrazzled and beautiful (or so she'd like to think), bride-to-be.
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A woman who writes feels too much,those trances and portents!
As if cycles and children and islands weren't enough;
as if mourners and gossips and vegetables were never enough.
She thinks she can warn the stars. A writer is essentially
a spy. Dear love,
I am that girl. --from THE BLACK ART by Anne Sexton

Monday, October 18, 2004

Jitters 2

Tonight, Alcuin and I finalized our guest list (Alcuin 39, May 63). But I still have to make the invite design!!! Oh no! And I still have an exhibition booth design to finish for a client! And a meeting with suppliers to attend! And the grades! Oh no, the deadline for the submission of grades is on the 21st! I'm ruined! Almost everything's needed tomorrow! Arrgggh!

But the good news is, my FA 203 thesis proposal's got the nod of the panelists--I can start working on it already! That is, would I want to? Next sem, they said they were thinking of
giving me 5 thesis advisees. Hay. I can use the money, though.

Last night, we watched Zhang Yimou's "The House of the Flying Daggers" at Robinsons Metro East. We didn't have dinner till after the movie (We went to Max's). Then, it was Alcuin's turn to get the jitters; I got them last week. By myself, I snapped off the depressed, unsure feeling quite easily, and focused instead on how excited I was to get married. Everybody's been so nice and very supportive, asking me what they can do to help. Even my MFA classmates to whom I've already apologized because we cannot possibly invite all of them, volunteered their services. I thought I might as well not invite any of them (except for Ambie, of course!) But perhaps because i was feeling so tired, I let Alcuin's worries get to me. Until finally I felt like crying, because I was thinking that since he was having jitters, maybe he wasn't sure he wanted me to be his wife. Then I actually cried because i felt sorry for myself. Till we split and continued discussing through text. (Cont'd.)

Changing of the guard.

Got back my lace and stuff from Mrs. Halim. Peter Estocado's
doing my gown. I'm not in any mood to explain right now.