PROLOGUE :
today was slightly normal than the other days this week, if it weren't for the 30-hour water shortage that bothered worse. faucets all off, and you can't think of anything to wash your hands after taking an awful dump, except for the pail with the 'slightly murky on the surface' water. we already have been suffering from a little lack of water in the house since march, and to think this is the best time to take showers aplenty because of the heat! it's like robbing the kids' candy canes or lollipops or whatever sweet and tasty during christmas. it's totally nasty. i've been thinking about swimming to make my 4-year-old (or 5?) pasty dracula skin a little fairer, but dad cutted me off, heck no, because everyone else was going to the waters to avail of a week's worth of bath and it would be ten times worse if you caught skin disease or something. have summers really been this god-forsaken?

i finished reading "the catcher in the rye" by j.d. salinger. i started it yesterday, and i couldn't believe i could read a book that fast - less than 2 days! when i first bought the book some four years ago, i wasn't that interested about it, just heard my dad saying it's a famous modern novel (with the mild profanities and all), so i coaxed my uncle to gift it to me. (i just hope he wasn't shook up buying a book with a lot of 'goddam's for a pre-adolescent! but i wasn't that innocent either.) that time, i guess i just read a few chapters and quitted soon after. i didn't exactly comprehend anything. but now was a pretty good time for me to read it, since the protagonist, holden caulfield, was seventeen and was rockin' out his life. getting out (kicked out, i mean) of high school and seeing the real pathetic world for himself in a funny place called new york city. sometimes i thought he was pathetic, being depressed and so 'without direction', even if he was privileged and smart. but then maybe i was too. so the whole plot was kinda 'relatable', and i liked it. i think i'm even picking up the holden's slang, with the "and all"'s and the "i really did"'s, it was infectious. it made you think there is every holden caulfield in every normal decent teenager (and non-teens). perhaps i should change my blog handle as "ms. caulfield" instead of "ellie" (which by the way isn't even my real name, just a made-up girlish nick for my rather boyish name), and "caulfieldesque" or "holdenesque" instead of "schizoesque" for my site. then again, maybe not. i'm still the schiz that i am for most of my imagined life. (i can call myself ellie caulfield! it sounds good doesn't it?)

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ACT 1, SCENE 1: FRAYED NERVES AND WRITER'S BLOCK
i've been contemplating about joining writing contests this vacation so that at least i can be productive, and i can say I DID SOMETHING during my two-month break. i haven't written any piece of prose for over a month now, since i wrote that "farewell piece" for The Judenites (that's my school paper) in the last issue only God knows when it will be published. and how am i suppose to get one? our editorial batch has been the most procrastinating people on earth, releasing our quarterly issues at the end of the next quarter. i don't blame anyone (ha! spat on me!)... but i will sure miss my little "relativity" column. i enjoyed my stay there. it was the major reason why in the first place did i want to write on the paper. i'm an ambitious bitch, but i can't be that ambitious anymore when you risk burning your head on the stake when you're a journalist nowadays.

back to the contests topic, if you do visit my blog and take a scrutinizing, eavesdropping look at all the potty i wrote (how ironic of me), you should’ve seen my sidebar with all the non-journal potty. the "things to do before i die" part. the number one thing listed there is to win a carlos palanca award. what is that, you ask. in my knowledge, it's the 'premier accolade of accolades' for people who's got the pen in them. it's somehow the true test whether you're a "writer" or just a "writer wannabe". i sometimes call myself a writer, flatter myself when people say i'm one, but i don't know. i first came upon CPMA two years ago when i read the literary special in the Inquirer, with the winning pieces showcased. i was a little interested then. the next year (which was just around this new year or something), it came again. NOW was i more than anxious to gather some serious info about the contest, and maybe dare myself to join. three months ago, i checked out websites, and indeed they were holding it, offering cash prizes and stuff. plus, it's a great thing to be recognized nationally, where you get to be one with the most outstanding... and finally, officially, proudly, and without doubt herald yourself as a WRITER. that, for me, will be a very long shot.

and after deluging myself with pessimism and laziness, the temptation (aw, that's too bad a word) comes back to me again. hell, why not? you wouldn't lose any part of your body by joining that! the 'apple' (since we’ve started with 'temptation') was in the form of a newspaper item i was blankly staring at first. "Join the 2005 Palanca Awards!", it screams to me. and then i was fixated with the rest. they were encouraging people under 18 to enter the Kabataan Essay category... the topic was "The Greatest Value My Father/Mother Taught Me". and the deadline's on APRIL 30!!!! well, i was aware of the whole thing before this since i already read the contest mechanics three months ago. but now, i was so driven by a mad desire to join the contest!!! i was SEVENTEEN and the deadline's only 15 DAYS AWAY, and there will be no more chance to enter the kabataan essay anytime else than NOW! you could definitely tell i was so fidgety and i wracked my brains to think of stuff i want to write about. i had that train of thought for almost an hour. the greatest value? let me think about it. i swear i'll start zapping tomorrow.

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ACT 1, SCENE 2: FAT CHANCE
as if the deadlines weren't beating the crap out of me, i had an even greater reason why i have to make myself look good. literally. just tonight, a friend called me up and told me i'm invited to go to one of my closest buds Peach to her debut. as one of the 18 candles. NEXT SATURDAY. it was quite fine that i'm invited, but then all the other usual major "gloom and doom" when you’re asked to attend a social function washed all over me. for one thing: i'm horribly fat right now. i'm quite a sham to look at with all the post-high school fat stuffed in my body. and just when i was thinking my arms' size are similar to those of the "rubber arm" floaty things, and go on the process of slow but steady dieting, i'm being summoned to appear in front of a ton of people i know (and i don't really want to meet them at the moment since i'm f-a-t) in seven days. but it's so rash of me to turn down. so no way out. oh heavens, WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? i was thinking of wearing the prom dress i had 2 years ago, and it was pretty un-lavish of me already, but what if it didn't fit? i might look like a beached whale. my emotions right now are like those of a cartoon comic character, with "?" and "!" and the comic sweat and tension on my drippy face. i have very few options, and i guess it's only ONE: starve myself and exercise. it's a filthy thought, but I HAVE TO.

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EPILOGUE :
this must be the longest post i ever had, without copying anything from other sources. it took me two nonstop hours to write this one. i'm just stuck with a lot of baggage today. you may not find it at all interesting, but it beats the pent-up sentiment out of me. maybe this is the compensation of not posting yesterday. and i'm sorry darlings, but i think i won't be posting the daily routine anymore, i'll be posting some days in a week starting now, not necessarily everyday 'coz i'll probably bore you with my everyday things. but i bet i'll post something good. the internet is taking a toll on me, but please hang in there because i won't desert my best blog for naught. thanks. :-)

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