Monday, November 21, 2005

...waiting for Harry James' Manhattan Serenade faded away from my head...

tale taled heart

somehow the lines written all over in biography books turned out reality last day when I said to myself I won't let anyone hurt myself anymore. Hopefully my self-defense turns bolder now. Let's see...

waking in early morning on Sunday, went to Fasilkom to debate, and fascinatingly at eight o'clock at night, debates had soothed me. Weird, but true. Went back home, helped my mom doing the laundries until 1.30 in the morning, set the alarm, had a good night sleep and dreamt shopped over Plaza Indonesia. woke up at 7.00 and had a phonecall to go to university administration center, it's about letters, as usual. And a comunicative class with Moncho, "No es bueno tener un solo hijo, crees? o la madre trabaja siempre mas que el padre, crees?" "Creo que si por las preguntas...," I said. Felt thankful to Bobo, because the Fernando Alonso article helped me a lot in Moncho's task in the class: imagining un persona latino. Think that Alonso es perfecto suficiente.

And I've haven't been hurt since el sabado. So far...