I was supposed to post photos of our Galera trip, the 6underground Up dharma Down listers’ night, and other stuff. All that was reduced to this little entry to keep my blog from being trapped forever in stale-ness.
I may have lost track of what to write here… and right now I’m not really in that mood to blog. I’ll try something tomorrow.
Expect the upcoming posts to be delayed for decades, just like our high school publication… (which I decided to write about upon seeing that this entry was too short for my standards).
The Clarionette was the typical high school organ, complete with nerdy writers, schizophrenic artists, and content-conscious moderators… until I came to power (CUE: Thunder BG Music and dark laughing SFX to the tune of “Bwahahahah”). I held a semi-pseudo-screening for would-be staffers, like the previous batches did. What happened right after was nothing short of dominating. Most of the major slots went to USBS and the rest from the remaining few that were really determined to get privelleges far greater than that of the student council.
Soon I was signing excuse letters for my “staffers” to work on the latest issue’s layout almost everyday. We would then go to straight to Dave’s place and drink our hearts out. We’d go back to the campus by 4PM just to get our bags. That was our way of cutting classes back then: if you can’t beat the damn gate guard, ask permission from the principal.
Of course it had repercussions. I was solely doing the paper: layouting, proof-reading, drawing, and writing what my editors-turned-drinking-buddies neglected to do. I didn’t blame them, though. I drove the lower classmen to slavery. Hey, it’s called TRAINING.
Once the final layout gets approved, we wait. 10 years. Getting a fresh copy of it with the not-so-fresh news somehow STILL gives an air of accomplishment… knowing that I was responsible for most of the stuff that’s in it. But still, reading the news of what happened on prom night or why you weren’t the quiz bee champ is like going through hell all over again.
Now I know how the poor paper felt.
Thoughts