Dear Sir,

I'm sorry to say, but I hate the holy week.  Everythings seems to stop into a grinding halt.  The silence is deafening.

Dear Sir,

My stars have forewarned me yesterday that due to Mercury's retrograde, in the next three weeks, I'll be a walking example of Murphy's Law.  Just on this second day, everything is g oing wrong.

To remind you of the law:

If anything can go wrong, it will.

If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong.

Corollary: If there is a worse time for something to go wrong, it will happen then.

If anything just cannot go wrong, it will anyway.

If you perceive that there are four possible ways in which something can go wrong, and circumvent these, then a fifth way, unprepared for, will promptly develop.

Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse.

If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.

Nature always sides with the hidden flaw.

Mother nature is a b****.

P.S. I tried four times before I got this entry posted.

Dear Sir,

I'm disappointed.  Does it show?  But who am I to complain? These coming weeks will be a struggle.

Dear Sir,

It's another unfruitful day.  I really have to start doing something. I'll try to write something tonight, but don't tell you-know-who.

Dear Sir,

I have nothing to write about.  All I have is a good title – The Ides of March – and I wasn’t the first one to have thought about it and its significance with today’s news.

As you now, the Philippines is on Google News again with the attempted jail break by some of the incarcerated Abu Sayaf members.  They got killed eventually after the police took on aggressive force against them after a failed powwow. This makes me think that these jail breaks by high profile criminals are but staged soap opera for them to be killed. As you know, last year and the year before that, some terrorists slipped through their cells and then months later, they were killed by the police.  Makes you think that if you were a terrorist, this is probably the worst country you could be in.  (Or is it the place of the worst terrorists? After all, suspects for the Valentine’s Day bombings surrendered to authorities after being bothered by their conscience.  Funny, that.)

Probably the authorities know that they couldn’t get them convicted, after all the country doesn’t even have an anti-terrorism law, so they let these things happen in anticipation that they will kill them later in a fake encounter.  But what am I saying?  As if my words would matter.  I just have nothing to write about.

Anyway, I woke up to (or is that slept to) the song Happiness from the musical “You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown” this morning.  I’ve always wanted to learn more about this song, anyway, here are the lyrics: (what a weird way to end a semi-serious blog)

Happiness is finding a pencil
Pizza with sausage
Telling the time
Happiness is learning to whistle
Tying your shoe for the very first time

Happiness is playing the drum in your own school band
And happiness is walking hand in hand
Happiness is two kinds of ice cream
Knowing a secret
Climbing a tree
Happiness is five different crayons
Catching a firefly
Setting him free

Happiness is being alone every now and then
And happiness is coming home again
Happiness is morning and evening
Daytime and nighttime too
For happiness is anyone and anything at all
That’s loved by you

Happiness is having a sister
Sharing a sandwich
Getting along
Happiness is singing together when day is through
And happiness is those who sing with you
Happiness is morning and evening
Daytime and nighttime too
For happiness is anyone and anything at all
That’s loved by you

Dear Sir,

It’s almost Holy Week, and Ronald sent a message if we’re going to do another visita iglesia this year.

You know that I would readily say yes, if not for you-know-what.  I wish I could finish you-know-what at the soonest so I could veer on track once again.  But how could I? You know me as the laziest person there is who loves to procrastinate. Bright side though is that my monthly horoscope says I’ll be bitten by the OC bug on the 15th to the 18th.

Dear Sir,  

After more than a year of absence, here I go again. 

I’ve wanted to write to you many times, but I couldn’t help myself from being emotional – trying to write how my day went without telling you about my frustrations and getting angry at you-know-who. 

One of the pressing reasons which made me want to start writing again is that I feel and am scared of becoming dumb.  More frequently has my head been hurting every time I think, and I feel becoming more and more aphasic each day. I’m beginning to have difficulty in comprehending and constructing sentences, remembering information, or trying to express myself verbally.  There even comes a day when I would not speak at all. I really feel dumb. But that’s not what I’m going to tell you today, even though I could probably write lengthy about these frustrations. 

Today, my sister dropped by for me to upload and tweak the pictures she got from her visit to India this weekend.

More than two weeks ago, my sister has been bugging me on what type of digital camera to buy.  She sent me links to ebay sites and told her frankly that I wouldn’t care much about those items she picked.  So I gave her a list of specifications on what to look for.  And lo and behold, she dropped by one afternoon with a new camera, and surreptitiously told me that her husband doesn’t know of it yet. The silly girl.

She came all excited and showed me the pictures she took from her secret place in the busy corporate hub of Mandaluyong – the American Cemetery.  I downloaded them in the computer.  All she wanted at first was to crop her pictures, but when I introduced her to the magical world of Photoshop, she got crazy.  Every time I tweak a picture, she would say something like: “It’s too perfect,” or “Stop doing that to my work of art,” while poorly hiding her enthusiasm.  So I told her nonchalantly, that’s how professionals do it these days.

So today, she came in with her India pics. And today, she wanted it all to be in black and white.  So I flirtatiously cajoled, “Ooh, if it’s black and white, it must be art,” keeping the sarcasm to a minimum unlike the MTV commercial where I got the quote.

But she also has taken pictures she wants me to let as is.  She calls the set “Colours,” and note the British spelling.  These were pictures of the fresh produce at a local supermarket.  Remarkably, she got away with 10 shots before she was reprimanded by security.