because i'm no lualhati bautista.

i was trying to organize my handouts and notes for an open-book test when i realized that i didn't have enough tabs. something which normally would've just elicited a shrug and an "oh, well.." from me, but somehow i knew that no amount of testing skills could help me navigate my way through a 4-inch stack of mostly unread handouts without the aid of tabs. and of course, i made this earth-shattering discovery at 3 a.m. of the testing day itself.

after i've cursed myself as i deemed appropriate and asked my sisters if they had some (they didn't. and for pete's sake, why couldn't i have done this earlier?!? didn't i know what time it was? they were SLEEPING, ok? OK?!), i scrounged around the house for something i could use. in true macgyver fashion, i decided those little stickers you get in Lucky and loulou magazines, the ones you're supposed to use to bookmark those pages with the shoes, clothes, current lust object the magazine and ad people hope you'd want to buy, will have to do.

so later that morning, i wrote the exam with a binder that sported tabs, which WERE color-coordinated, to my credit, but nonetheless proudly declared: "i love it", "i need it", "i want it", and "girl, you gotta have it".

and i wonder why people don't take me seriously.

...

right now, the most beloved thing in my bedroom is:

when i got it (well, them, actually. there are two volumes), i thought i was set for life. ok, maybe not. but set for the next five years, at least.

but then i made the mistake of dropping by the bookshop the other day (oh, indigo, why do you have to be so temptingly near?) and saw this.

I WANT (repeat ten million times).

i'm now trying to be extra-good so i could justify buying myself another present. so that means no more unhappy and bad thoughts, no more bugging people at 3 in the morning for tabs, no more sarcastic remarks, no more making fun of people who confuse sweet with creepy-obsessive.

if you don't hear from me for a couple of days, it's because i'm trying to earn my book. that, or i failed miserably in doing so and have locked myself up with nothing but paulo coelho books to read and breadcrumbs to eat as punishment.