Student "edition" found at {thoughts dot com slash typed no space out no space loud slash blog}.

Maybe I shouldn't have started this blog now, not with everything that's been going on.

I was not in school again today. That makes it two Mondays in a row, as if anyone is counting.

I was in the San Sebastian campus in the Carmel Ray Industrial Park One. It was only yesterday I found out there were two of them.

Sadly the second one was closer from my point of origin, so it was more of a hassle to travel longer to get to the first park.

It took two jeep rides, and one tricycle ride, and a long walk. This is because from where the tricycle dropped me off, it was a small metal footbridge over the creek to the entrance of Carmel Ray.

From there it was about the better part of a kilometer of a walk to the campus, strangely familiar in that it is one block of a building inside the campus, of only four stories. The only difference from regular haunts is the presence of minarets that made it look almost like the local INK churches.

The office of the dean made me think that it was actually less than a year old, there being two large wooden unvarnished bookcases against one wall there with one solitary binder at one side.

The area of the secretary to the dean and the clerk were just as equally sparse, not suggesting having been sufficiently lived in or more accurately worked in, without that much clutter.

After talking to the dean, I was told that I would have to talk to the school director. This, as I mentioned in the micro blogging social networks, led to some confusion before I realized that the social director was actually of higher rank than the dean, instead of the other way around I was used to.

I find this out how: from a tarpaulin on the first floor I saw, in the lobby actually, showing the faculty, staff and administrators.

It contained all in all thirty faces, from the school director, a priest, to human resources head. Faculty members numbered less than ten.

I made the mistake of opting for an off campus lunch. This meant two more long walks, and paying special for the tricycle going out.

But I was able to eat at Wood Bridge pizza for the first time in a real long time, although I did not opt for their thirty six inch pizza.

This was at Carmel Mall by the way. It was only in the afternoon, after sufficient nugatory responses to queries about what time I was going to be going to school that I found out that the school was founded in 2005.

They actually had graduates already, although probably not as many as we did during our first year, that pronoun being something I will have get used not to using soon, at least in this reference.

But they only had two hundred and sixty plus students, in maybe two schools, or disciplines, if I do not count arts and sciences.

And they have a staff house for employees to stay in rather than have to go the long route to work.

Session 3051 asked the social networks about being drawn to emerging, starting campuses. Class dismissed. April 19, 2010 Monday
Today we have a literally touchy subject. For those of you who may have seen my Tumbler account (I know that is not the correct spelling, but then I am just bowing to my spell checker here), there was one time I took a picture of my book purchases, but one was hidden under the others.

This was one that I left to the discretion of the viewer to discover from what part of the cover was visible.

But since this the student non-accessible version (at least I have been hoping so for the past seven years) then I can reveal what that book was and why I would not show it to those at my job.

The book is Unzipped by Anonymous. The tag line said it is proof that power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Below that it said quote scandalous sex secrets: the very private journal of a public servant unquote.

Besides, it was only ninety nine pesos at the National Bookstore hardbound sale at the start of the year.

But to tell you honestly, the cover blurbs were very misleading. Okay, maybe not very but misleading nonetheless.

I, and probably several hundreds if not dozens or thousands of others, was expecting exposes about lust-fulfillment parties in the halls of the ministers, as this was set in the United Kingdom.

But that was not the case. It was just the very freaking arrangement of a minor political figure (minor in that he never mentioned about hobnobbing with any famous figures or the royal family, and that he was never recognized by his assignations) with his wife about fooling around.

That was the first indication that this was something that the ordinary person would not be able to relate to, or at the very least believe because it absolves the narrator of any guilt even though it was supposed to have been expunged by the writing of such a secretive and frowned-upon subject.

Next, there were no members only clubs, especially not with members were the rich and famous with unnatural tastes.

Everything that the writer did anyone could have been discovered by anyone else, in fact, it is very publicly available; the venues of the information and contact numbers being phone booths.

The only reason I could think of why the author would want to not want his identity known is because in his exploits he unfortunately savors both sexes, even if not expecting to do so; he did pay for it.

He does show a human side, that of falling in love with those he spends money for their services.

But very little of their side of life is shown, except how it relates to the purposes of his political party.

So in the end it is just a description that these kinds of people exist to be exploited for the right price.

Session 3053 could write something similar. Class dismissed.