Aaaand this:
So today was my grandmother's (technically my mom's aunt, we call her auntie since she's an old maid and she gets annoyed whenever we call her lola - she's slightly boyish. Like me, only more than half a century older.) late birthday celebration. It was a quiet ceremony, and we prepared the usual Filipino dish which dominates every birthday celebration: pasta.
After the family lunch, my brother and I backpacked and went on a roadtrip to Antipolo because his girlfriend's family-owned resort was having its anniversary and we were invited. Unfortunately, I had 2 poem interpretations, 1 short story and 1 creative nonfiction critique and 1 personal recommendation to do that had to be done the next day, so while everyone was having fun (and hogging the karaoke while practically making me temporarily deaf in the process), I was making those 5.
It was for an org. An org that, from the looks of my submissions themselves, practically shouts that nope, I'm not fit for doing things like these which entail lots of doggone work.
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