I woke up this morning feeling a little queasy and completely weirded out. The thing is that I had a bizarre dream that included me, my family and *GASP!* Sanjaya.

Anyone who's read some of my American Idol-related posts can tell you how much I hate Sanjaya with a passion. Him and his odd singing and his equally strange staying power which I have yet to grasp.

Now before you psychologists or psychologist-wannabes start assessing my dream and nailing a label on my forehead, lemme clear out first that I do not have any hidden desires to this untalented schmuck and just the thought has started a goosebump trend around my neck region.

So here's how the dream went. Aparently I was friends with some Indian national with similarly long hair and I wanted to play a prank on my neices and sister who has been a AI viewer and like me, a Blake and Melinda supporter. I told my friend to wear this huge pair of shades (ala-Vincent Dafalong) , brought him home and introduced him to my family.

And I remember distinctly my family's facial expressions: more like mortification than starstruck. It looked as though everyone was on the verge of a very bloody scream, the type you would only let loose when being stalked by some legendary blood-sucking East European monarch.

Then my friend reveals to me that he is indeed that blasted Sanjaya Malakar. I remember freezing in horror and then I was awake.

Fothermucking Weird.

Most of my friends are aware that I am allergic to seafood. And it sucks that this allergy wasn't something I was born with; it developed during high school, a time when I would be looking forward to my mom cooking up some tahong, alimasag, pusit or hipon.

I just thought of mentioning this, just in case some of my friends are unaware and would be offering me a seefood platter the next time I visit thier place. That and the fact that I just ate four breaded shrimps.

Yeah, four pieces of deep fried shrimp may be not much, but for me it's already being a daredevil and deliberately irritating my immuno system. You see, whenever I try to eat some shelled delicacy, my lips, tongue and entire mouth starts itching and, a few minutes later, would swell up. I end up looking like a male, more simian counterpart but less hairy version of Angelina Jolie. And depends on how much I eat, I sometimes get rashes and I get irritable the entire day. Though thankfully I have not reached the point of having my widpipe swell up so much, cutting my oxygen supply entirely.

So far the shrimps I ingested have simple made my throat and lips itch, spread some heat inside my mouth, and caused me to sweat profusely despite not being that hot at all (I realize this may not actually be an effect of eating seafood).

NEVER leave me with a camera and Photoshop.

I was fresh out of my short, short stint as a graphic artist for a local bookstore when I got home and was told that a certain Mark had called. Over the years I have met numerous Marks, from different schools and companies I’ve been to, so naturally I asked which Mark it was. My niece, who had received the call, of course had no idea, but she did give me a number this Mark left for me.

For some reason I cannot remember at this point, it took me two days to actually send a text message to this Mark, I’m willing to bet that procrastination was a big part of it. So apparently it was Marc Fronda from grade school, he says in a text response that they were planning a reunion for our class and would I be so kind enough to join them in one of their meetings. Of course I could not commit to anything at the time because I was waiting for some projects to start. A week later I finally found myself ambling towards this coffee shop in front of RTU called Beanperk for a low-frequency reunion or sorts and my week’s caffeine fix. And there they were seated neatly by a table: Isabel, Jacklyn, Aladin, Jose and Charisse. Carousell soon followed, as well as, Bryan, Abby and Marc. It’s been years since I shared breathing space with these people and I oddly felt neither familiar nor alienated. It was surreal to be in the same room with these people whom I’ve been both very childish and mature with.

So week after week we met up at the same venue to talk about grade school days and planning the reunion. We went through the entire planning, inviting, gathering up sponsors and getting people to confirm attendance, and to be able to do most of these we went sweaty and tangled up, walking around from one classmate's house to another. After the first house-to-house we decided that a good relaxing, slow evening of bonding was in order. And we then found our way, in Marc's van, to Papa Jek's in Marikina. After a hearty meal and a round of beer (and Calis) we started talking about each one's fondest memories and asked questions each.

The night ended with us taking our bonding to the parking space outside and amazingly enough, bared our souls. I have to admit that I never thought I'd actually go out with people I met during grade school and have a great time, much more bond with them on a deeper level.

ERES'95 BATCHMATES!




Here are my pictures...

Planning Stage


Initial Designs


Venue Designs


-= ERES'95 REUNION =-