VI

Tomorrow the Finals begin. ‘War mode’ ON. No social life for this week until Monday next week. Well, subject to two exceptions, to wit: 1. Badminton and 2. Bernice’s Wedding on Saturday. I had to give up even Saturday night drinking at the Cayco lair last night.

Too bad the wedding begins at 3pm at the Immaculate Conception Church here in hometown. About the same time, I’d be taking up my exams in Labor Relations. Uhm, at least, such force majeure would prevent me from entering my OBJECTION when the priest asks the question of “blahblahblah or forever hold your peace.”

The thing is… I’m a slave of law school. I’d probably miss out on my own wedding if I’m still in law school. Well, anybody in my position, whether as a college student or a graduate student, wouldn’t miss out on a final exam. Better that I should finish it early, in about an hour perhaps, and run back to the car and prep up there. At least, I should be in the reception for the picture-taking. My mom would be attending the wedding too.

Well, her wedding is momentous for me, she’s my god-sister, and we grew up together, studied in the same school from kindergarten ‘till high school, and as chance permitted, we even both went to UST. She studied in the College of Commerce, and me in AB. I’d really want to be there. But of course, I could ask Atty. Alcantara to give me an earlier exam in the Faculty Room, but hell, I’d have no one to copy from. Yes, you heard it right, we STILL DO copy from each other.

xxx xxx xxx

Getting the hang of badminton, even though my racquet already got scratched. Though it is an inanimate object, I felt the pain coursing through my veins. OUCH! It was brand new! It’s my baby!

And I’ve been counting all the pounds I’ve been shedding every after game. Since last week, until tonight, I lost over five pounds. Woohoo!!!!

And another thing, though it’s a bit personal. I don’t like PEOPLE TEACHING ME PRO GRATIS how to do this, or do that, especially if we’re not close, or otherwise nominal friends or acquaintances, or even if we came from the same school or what. I know, I’m a beginner, and I need to learn more of technique, but fuck, I didn’t consent to you giving me unsolicited advice on the spot. Just hit the damn cock, and I’ll hit it the way I’d hit it. I just came there to have fun, not to enter a tourney. If I pay you or ask you to teach me, then I’ll listen, but I didn’t. So I don’t need your help. Because help presupposes need. And I am not needy.

Perhaps it is my own pride, or maybe because of the Socratic discipline we live by, or maybe the adversarial nature of my professional training… don’t teach the opponent what to do unless you want to lose your own case. Never give them hints. Less talk is more. Less questioning is more. Less writing is more. If they don’t know what to do, take advantage of it. It is how you play the rules. Sounds dirty, but that’s the way it is.

So, if you’re not Larry, or Perry, or other people in my immediate circle… then shut up. Your intentions, however generous, are not welcome. (And by YOU, I meant to use in it the plural.)

That’s just what I think. And I wouldn’t scorn you up front. Besides, I’m entitled to my constitutionally guaranteed freedom of expression, and in here, I express it.

Now, I’ll shut up for the next week or so… until I’m officially off the Third Year in law school with the year-ender kampai ritual.