unforgetful lucy

going to grad school without my fellow marxist on mondays is not fun at all. i hate not having my sparring partner. the prof throws a question and it falls dead on the floor. it shouldn't have been that way. because had we been there together, we could have educated the class about IMF Worldbank's origins, the menace that lurks in our countrymen's obsessive compulsion to amass all glittery things, etc., etc.

in the guise and belief that they could pass off as knowledgeable, the classmates resort to sharing personal accounts in an attempt to show the prof that they feel those global truths . it was as if the rest of us are part of a grievance committee willing to listen to their inconveniences. i roll my eyes and freeze to death (from the crazy cold airconditioning) and think, these people try too hard.

i went home knowing that i could have learned more had there been others who knew their world history and current events.

then i browsed through friendster.

i came across the account of a former bestfriend, my first hearbreak. we are both members of a group but when i clicked on her account, the violator said, "only 1st degree friends of _____ can access her account." i am not even a friend anymore.

it is dismal (sometimes in the sick humor that i've got, funny) how certain memories reappear and the heart throbs sadly with the pain that comes with them.