Yesterday, August 1, 2009, at 3:18 in the morning, one of the greatest people in the world died of cardio-pulmonary arrest.

It was the first thing on the news when I went downstairs yesterday morning, a little nervous about the exam I was going to take later that afternoon.

Maybe dying is a great thing, since that's when people you never knew existed pray for you and give you tribute for the things you've done when you still walked this earth. Personally, I'm scared of dying. Well, not really dying. I'm more afraid of time. I mean, not having enough time to do this or take a step nearer to my dreams. I'm afraid that I'll get to miss out on some of the very important things in life.

While I ate my breakfast, I watched as these cerebrally-impaired reporters interview Mr. Boy Abunda. Boy Abunda seemed to repeat EVERYTHING that he said. Not once, not twice but a lot of times. I mean, it's bad enough that someone died but they have to hear the morbid details over and over and over again.

It's annoying.

I left the house before 10 am (I'm obsessive-compulsive that way) and made my way to the testing center (UPLB). I just breezed through the procedures, took my test, and left. And I think I passed. I hope. I prayed for it.

While taking the test, I didn't think of Cory Aquino, of circles and radii, I didn't think of anything. I was in autopilot mode.

Then "My Happy Ending" blared from someone's phone. And the proctor shouted, "WILL SOMEONE PLEASE SHUT AVRIL LAVIGNE UP?!?"

I laughed.