I can’t, I won’t yield, because as it is I already have way too many damn addictions than the hours of the day could accomodate, probably at least five addictions per sense organ, and yet all my batchmates performing a video of plants vs zombies during our recent hidden valley getaway and tessieloopagooparoop making ngasab at a lamp and djanah wailing “sunflower! sunflower!” and me not getting what they were all about beckon at me to grab that game file and play the damn thing. In 2005 I heard a 3-second song by Keane on TV with Tom Chaplin wailing “The laaaaaast tiiiiiiiime!” and I was hooked on Keane and until now I play Hopes and Fears on my iPod for hours on end. Way back in 1991 I’ve watched my cuz make Mario throw fireballs at those damn Little Goombas and Lakitu and Koopa Paratroopas and I would get all shivery-in-a-corner whenever the 8-hour brownout would deprive me of the chance to attempt that hundred-lives crap in world 3-1. And why talk about these mundane addictions, let’s talk about the real stuff– the drugs, the booze, the sex, the hollywood lifestyle. Oh yes, and blogging with histrionics and hyperboles. And similes and metaphors and alliterations and long sentences for more maximum karindihan. A few months ago I’ve read Allyn Lomboy shout out in Facebook: I need to get addicted to something. But we already are addicted to a lot of stuff being in this training institution, Allyn. We are addicted to writing looooong chart entries.

Because we all aspire to be novelists one day.

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