Yes! Yes, you are right, my dear, as you always seem to consider yourself to be. But you are right, I am angry with you. Why, you ask? Well, I shant tell you. Forgive me, but never will I give you the satisfaction. I will tell you this, however–Hold my glass for me, will you? Thank you–I will tell you that I regret every passionate word that I have ever uttered and I take back every foolish promises that I have ever made on that one particular drunken episode of which, may I add, you were ever the reason of (as you are the reason for my being one now). Mind you, my dear–No, stop sloshing it about. Give it here!–Mind! however, that they are not concocted lies; do not think that they are–for they may have been felt as truth, notwithstanding the state of my then intoxicated frame of mind. But how it makes me laugh now! Je t'attendrai toute ma vie, indeed. Ha! I oftentimes wonder what pathetic imp, with such perverted sense of humour, whispered those words into my ears and made me believe they were my own. I am afraid that I have allowed myself to be freely disposed to your ill-usage and selfish whims, of which can only be faulted upon my weakness (and which you have ever taken advantage of), for far too long. And, as sorry as I am, I must take your leave, my dear, once more. Curses! Pardon me, did I spill anything on you? No? No harm done then, now–You were saying my dear? Er–No, I will not hear it, I will not have your reasons–for I will believe them, without a doubt. Return to your silence and I shall return to mine, it is better that way. At least, we part on relatively better terms than the last time, do we not? Yes. Nod away, nod away. I only hope that, if fate ever had any kindness in its bosom, I shall never see you again. To you, my dear, my eternal love, as always–Cheers!

The speedy depletion of my resources, as I have recently felt, urged me to look deeper into the state of my personal finances (the most annoying thing, for me at least, because it seems deceptively easy), which I have been dreading lest I discover irraparable disarray. The details of my stay here have greatly occupied my mind, with my review being the most confusing of all (what review center am I going, I do not yet know), that I have not paid enough attention to how quickly and glutonnously I was eating away at my meager weekly allowance—until I was stupidly scratching my head one early morning, utterly confounded, and, for a second, thought that one of the 'four horsemen' (my smoking roommates who have all left last Wednesday, thankfully) has pillaged the pockets of my pants. A cup of coffee calmed my frantic mind somewhat, for I was near panic then, and made me realized that it was indeed I who alone pillaged my poor pants—and thus forced me to assess, diagnose, and evaluate (as a true nurse might) my present situation and attempt, thenceforth, to put my financial affairs in order. The result of my painful analysis showed me that the damage is not yet severe and that it can be sorted out quite easily—with sacrifices made here and there. Consequently, I must live on little for the coming weeks and must avoid situations wherein spending is an unavoidable possibility, especially romantic ones (which are suddenly and amazingly in abundance, at the most inopportune of times). But no matter, I shall get on quite well, I believe, and the solution will not affect my studies nor my health at any rate—although I may have to give up on that computer chassis that I have been very interested in purchasing. Ah, well.

"Well?"

"Well, miss?" I answered, almost falling over her and checking myself.

She stood looking at me, and, of course, I stood looking at her.

"Am I pretty?"

"Yes; I think you are very pretty."

"Am I insulting?"

"Not so much so as you were last time," said I.

"Not so much so?"

"No."

She fired when she asked the last question, and she slapped my face with such force as she had, when I answered it.

"Now?" said she. "You little coarse monster, what do you think of me now?"

"I shall not tell you."

"Because you are going to tell, up-stairs. Is that it?"

"No," said I, "that's not it."

"Why don't you cry again, you little wretch?"

"Because I'll never cry for you again," said I. Which was, I suppose, as false a declaration as ever was made; for I was inwardly crying for her then, and I know what I know of the pain she cost me afterwards.

Four technicians, working for a communications corporation, descended upon Cebu the other day to share the room with me. I do not mind the company, for it is quite lonesome inhabiting a relatively large room by myself with only an unintelligible gecko to converse with, and welcomed it cooly when thus informed by our host of their arrival. They come from Manila and speak Tagalog, a language I could feign to use as if it were my own tongue, and are a cheerful bunch. We could have gotten on in pleasant terms if only they did not insist upon smoking inside our stuffy room, despite the clear notice on the wall, every chance they get, and exacerbating the already stifling atmosphere- until our room resembles Padi's Point on a Saturday night (minus the band and beers). The bluish haze of cigarette fumes would loiter idly about in the air, refusing to go anywhere except inside my nose, and seem to be only interested in asphyxiating me. The room would reek of stale tobacco, even days afterwards, and would suffuse every fabric of clothing, bed lenins, towels, even bare skin with its distinct stench; and would hang stubbornly around me, most of all, like persistent flies to a carabao's anus- until our host suspected me of habitually spending nights in some beerhouse. I do not hate the act of smoking, being once a foolish teenager who learned of such vices (and have since ceased), as much as I abhor uncaring smokers who are not mindful of, and seems to be stupidly resolute in sharing their vile carcinogenic habits with, other non-smoking people- in public transports, in restaurants, in unaeriated rooms, even (once) in a pediatric ward. Wretched fiends!

A complication with my application for the NCLEX, like a vexatious relapsing dermatitis, had me spontaneously scurrying back to Cebu again to attempt to cure it. This time, however, I am to stay for longer than just a day- say, three months, as a matter of fact, for I intend to be ready for the review once the said problem is henceforth done with. Fixing the problem did not take a day; unfortunately, some documents are still in wanting and would necessitate some degree of waiting (argh!), much to my utter disappointment and disgust. And so, for the foreseeable weeks, I face, with gritting teeth and clinched fists, the hateful prospect of waiting and wasting in idleness. Summoning every last sliver of patience and self-control, and realizing that there is nothing that can be done, I turn my attention to my review book- timidly quivering at my side for fear, perhaps, of being torn to pieces.

An unavoidable drawback in trying to review without company is allowing one's self to be disposed to boredom and loneliness, as I have at numerous times realized, a situation most detrimental to learning. Stella and I had an undeclared agreement to review together, however, with her family situations tying her down- I am left in my lonesome to tackle the three months ahead, all the while fending off depressive episodes of which I am increasingly developing, luckily, an immunity to. Fortunately, a former beer-buddy, Bacchus, has expressed his desire to review with me, if his application pushes through; although I am not too keen on the idea, for he always seem to succesfully lure me with him without failure, despite my strong objections, into drinking rampages of which has no end until I have turned into a complete idiot trying to steal a kiss from every passing female or prostate senseless, muttering and groaning, in severe intoxication.

The possibility of my having company throughout the review, even if it is the god of wine himself, has put me in better and livelier spirits. Albeit, I would have rather much prefered, and have looked forward to with utmost eagerness, the dreamy notion of sweating in the same classroom, of sharing lunch and dinners, of sleeping beneath the same roof, of being a faithful accomplice in the noble undertaking of bringing down and beheading of that grotesque prancing monster which is the NCLEX- with Stella, goddess of virtue, more than any god or deity in the world. And all the bitter miseries and sadness, associated with waiting and studying in a cold strange land away from the warmth of home and the affection of loved ones, would have still transformed into a sweet and most entrancing of experiences. I suppose, looking back, pleasant the thought might seem, it was too perfect to be a reality- an occassion which I am inclined, for just a night, to celebrate with Bacchus and his bottomless wine.