emergency

CHRONICLESOFANEWBLING

2010-03-13T22:36:00.002+08:00

Using a laptop for the first time, you get (a) giddy; (b) amazed at the new features that an old clunky piece of metal you once possessed but now has gone bonkers didn’t have; (c) bored at clicking away for items you’ve already seen before; (d) pissed by the realization that you will sooner or later purchase another deep-in-the-pocket application licenses and brand new anti-virus CD.

When one has gotten used to all four feelings alternating in your head, you get this prompt:
“You are given 25 chances to use the Microsoft Office applications until you install a purchased license. Enter a code to install a new license?”.

Then you want to scream.

Yes, and another one bites the dust is exactly how I think my old laptop has gone off. It decided to stop breathing one day when I was itching to be connected to the entire world. Its buttons all turn blue as it normally does on reboot. But it doesn’t show anything on the screen. A sign of death. Then as if one huge angry piece of dragon awaken from its centuries of slumber, it spits off heaps of heat one after another. Then it hit me: crap, time to buy a new one.

I normally hate doing this but scouring for a new laptop is no different from looking for a new relationship, a new house, a durable. It’s with which a chunk of your time will be spent with and therefore, it must satisfy all your requirements.
Mine were: aesthetics (first and foremost), after-sales service, processor memory, speed, storage, brand, and price – in that order. Of course I have a price in mind but I set the specs first before the money matters. Thank you for noticing that aesthetics come first in my priority list. I have an OCD after all. I wouldn’t like toting it if it weren’t pretty.

This new piece of metal that caught my interest was love at second sight. It is silver, sleek metal chassis all over, small, light, with lots of freebies, and a printer came with it. What more can you ask for?

Before I left this morning to hunt for a new piece of metal with which most of my time will be spent with, I actually had to write in the things I’ll accomplish once I get my hands on it. And I’m on item #3 and finishing it with this sentence. :D

2009-05-11T22:25:00.001+08:00

Dan and two pairs of contacts: how hard can it get?! After sweating buckets and snot running through my nose, nah it isn't easy - twenty five minutes all in all including gasps for air. And that's just one. Man, this sure isn't a feat for the faint hearted.

2009-02-24T00:57:00.002+08:00

Acceptance is sometimes equated to settling for something you don't want.
This is a concept I have yet to begin accepting.
Mediocrity is sometimes something that I am not too satisfied with. But as I was recently programmed to think, I should just settle for it and move forward.

दिगिताल्ली स्पेअकिंग, इ'म बेक!

2009-01-14T00:25:00.001+08:00

My brain is acting up. It apparently cooperated with my hands that are either too busy trying to feign busy-ness otherwise known as work or both hands had been picking on my brain cells and plucked them little by little to finally understand what could have gone wrong with me. Now, I think I have little of those left – I seem to have forgotten how to write, reason, or grow up. I miss my brain cells! Coffee sucked them dry, too. Damn you S***b****! (Repeat until fade)

Let me break it to you: I'm in a rut. Brings back memories of Arkarna's "So little time so much to do" hit song. That’s the kind of hell I’m in, kind of. Ste, I am writing this in response to your guest book post. I got concerned.

I have so much in my head and most of these I'm not comfortable divulging online. A friend made me realize that I've been wearing my heart on my digital sleeve a little too much in the third quarter of the year that was. That was a sick indication that geez I have no other friend to talk to about those things that boggles my head until now and big time. They puzzle me so much that it can give world records of worry a run for their money.

Figured it would give me so much peace of mind to drain all my pain* and worries away. Lift it up to Him. Have faith. Pick a new hobby. Stop and smell the roses. I even think I might join you in one of your biking sessions – I’ll rent one at the Circle. Just promise me I won’t wind up in the headlines the next day reading: “Babae sumadsad bisikleta sa bangketa, patay!”. Or we can make ourselves look really thin under minimum effort (how on UP Diliman grounds did you do it? Wonders me to no end). Or we can revive all sorts of team ups with Gibs and Merms. I don’t know what’s up with me but I’d been really mushy lately reconnecting with old dear friends. Must be the global crisis.

Dear friend, thanks for resuscitating my love for blogging. If for anything, I owe this much to you (gestures with my hand) in terms of that and a lot more.

*For lack of a better and digitally polite word for something radical I’d want to say.

PAIN IN THE A**...

2008-07-20T21:47:00.002+08:00

(...the literal and not so literal sense of the phrase.)

WARNING: Not for the faint of heart and the freshly full.

Do you get that feeling when you are about to go #2 and you twist and turn to stop it from going because you are still two meters away from point of touchdown? Then during the torturous act of stopping it (by gosh legs and limb in all of its creative positions to subtly stop it from taking a plunge into your underpants and still look posh), you feel a deep jab into your a** connected to your intestines that seems as if all of earth's gravity has been put into your pit-hole - you just can't seem to fathom where that came from. And when you finally go, all of the dark troubles from your innards just won't quickly find its way out and the pain jolts you up again - starts from the inside then drags your a** down with a downward pull as if your hole is being detached from your body.

I have just basically described to you, ladies and gentlemen, how it feels like to actually stop breathing for another human being. (Hey, that rhymes - I should consider poetry instead, only that I hate it along with all the cheese involved). Of course this time it does not involve the excretory system. It actually involves the heart and all its chambers. ***Literary pause for effect - more like I don't want you in on the gory details because it just hurts so bad it makes me want to gag.***

At the end of the day, all we have to do is to just flush it out of the system. (Note to self: Yes Dan, keep telling yourself that until you hear yourself and convince yourself to stop, eat and start breathing again.)

STUCK!

2007-12-02T19:49:00.001+08:00

The world is such a lonely place if you think it is. Looking out my window, I see a panorama of buildings. It feels so near to the most stressful place on earth, because, come on, it really is. I live a few blocks away from work. Not that I'm complaining. I save tons of money and hassle and tempers flared from the commute. Not my cup of tea. But anyway, work is only stressful if you allow it to stress you out. If you are so tired of what you do, quit. If you do not look forward to working, stop it. Don't cheat yourself if it only boils down to money. Earn and enjoy the job at the same time.
That was my conscience by the way, talking inside my head. And oh yah I was doing my laundry...yet again. Neat.

A bubble burst inside my head just recently. (Raises both hands in total frustration). I am stuck in a rut. Suddenly I paused from the hustle and thought that my plans do not seem to materialize. My idealism left me and my savings are not climbing. Sure I quite have heaps of experience. I counsel my friends who do not seem satisfied with their jobs. I appear, thank goodness, happy at what I do now relative to these people. I earn more than they do. I did not age so progressively than they did. I do not have career-related dilemmas that pose danger to my colleague's paths. But at the end of the day, I still feel empty.

I used to quip that the ascend is going to be slow but steady. I knew it for a fact. It is an unfair world where the comforts I experienced while I was a sheltered kid just would not happen again. If so, it's never going to be fast.

Usually when I talk like this, it's just a monologue. The intricacies weaved into my brain is so complex. I cannot quote the bible, forgive me Lord, but I feel it would be in vain if I do so at this stage. I am a hypocrite pretending to have a grand master plan, which I do have by the way. Only that this plan has yet to materialize and I am feeling that my brains have not yet reached the point of exclaiming, "Eureka, I have found my passion: the one thing I will truly never get tired of doing for the rest of this lifetime!"

I am lost, so to speak. If only I can apply my favorite trip adage to this stage of my life: "The best way to know a place is to get lost in it." Whoever can help me here is most welcome.

And it is the first time I have reflected through the depths in my soul without even thinking of a boy in my head. Finally I have breached the comfort zone.

2007-10-23T20:41:00.001+08:00

Getting asked to marry someone is supposed to be fun and chilling. Girls are supposed to cry and be swept. But if you were asked with the mother of the man within earshot and the question popped was not necessarily that of marriage but to start a family, it sometimes get spooky that one does not muster any courage to speak. I was not quite sure if it were indeed a joke or something out of overwhelming feelings over the beauty of an architecture that stands before us.

Was I supposed to answer yes on the spot? Well, I did not.

The next day, I can't keep mum about it as if nothing happened as if nothing was asked. So I said, let's seriously consider and I think I made the guy scamper so far away he could not stand right next to me within the next five minutes. I got the irk of my life and then and there I became weird again and I hated the guy who was so finnicky about serious matters in life that he seemed to joke about only 24 hours ago.

Then it was very ironic that the next day I was given an article about marriage. It was a very nice take on this seemingly tight knot that people impose on couples either out of no choice or just because "it is the most logical thing to do". What dummy will choke himself up to something he does not want? What idiot would ask someone to spend the rest of their lives together figuring out how to keep sane just because they want to lower their tax expenses and share the rent until they hit 90? And who would want to sleep right next to someone whom he does not want to see each morning all with goo and perhaps stink of urine when they reach such an age that their kidneys won't allow them to control their urinary tract anymore? Why risk an entire lifetime (or at least a good thirds of it) knowing that divorce expenses are sky high?

Insane how they invented marriages. It goes beyond sharing spit and body liquids and taxes and cheap talk. It actually is about laughing together, sharing the same passion, growing up and learning new things each day trying to make sense out of earthly life. As an added bonus, real partners would actually believe that there is an after life together.

But having highly emotional people surrounding me and asking me to "start a family" with him on a whim is definitely unforgivable especially when he gets cold feet when I suddenly start giving it attention and detail. Is he freaked? I should be the one who's utterly freaked at the thought. How dare he.

PS
Up to this very moment, I still have no clue why I feel such strong magnetic forces that attract me to this person. I made an honest assessment of it and I cannot actually bring myself to answer the one question I am supposed to answer without batting an eyelash and without giving motherhood statements. I am a writer whose passion is to grow flowers at the end of my pen (or my fingers for that matter). However, that very moment, if it were my livelihood, would not have made me survive. I just stutter and hang on to the belief (a stupid one by the way) that if I cannot answer it, then I truly feel something for him. But it is such a crooked crooked notion that I should scold myself for actually seeing it through. He is not much to look at and I definitely have no idea why I am hung up on him . And before I sound too Joe-d-Mangoish, let me end on a happy, er sappy, note. He is now spending the night at a big crush's place bec this girl's dad died. I don't know why I feel so insecure of her. But from now on, let me avenge myself by saying that I am a highly bankable person and definitely still placed with a high market value that a lot of men would swoon after. Not that I need them. It just makes me feel so meanly happy at the thought.

Confusion Shmusion

2007-09-25T19:43:00.000+08:00

I am a true-blue blogger (of course you did not know that I had a blog site forever aside from this). Had I learned about the possibility of digital archiving since I was born, I would have invented it. But of course I had yet to get acquainted with Charles Babbage and that the reason why this is the only computer-related person I keep on blurting about in my “intellectual” attempts at a conversation is because my computer teacher in freshman high made me memorize it the hard way – bloody and teary and torture. Not that it is defensive of me to mention this fact about trying to sound as intellectual as I can but I just wanted to mention this tidbit so that at least friends who are not given the privilege of my personal disclosures can have just a teeny weeny bit of info about me. That’s something to brag about when I get famous. I might invent another super phenomenon in the future. Who knows?

Of course it is also through blogs that I got to express my feelings in my entire college life – hence the better articles that I wrote back then. (Of course better here serves as my defense mechanism for not coming out with decent write ups at this day and age. It also is subjective. I dare love my own.) My tone was explicit, loud, very bold and vivid. I used to be a succinct writer, both about myself and other people. Although my reflexes are weak (physically speaking), I think it is first instinct that makes me jerk when I recognize or smell wrong grammar even a foot away. Of course my grammar and diction are not perfect. But I guess some people are allowed a margin of errors along the way. I actually had a following when I posted things in a famous networking site where people meet and get hooked up. I think that was my talent and not a bad one at that.

I wrote better in those years basically because I lived with an aunt whose house was as big as my auditorium classrooms. I had my own room and I shared the house with four people – mostly only two (aunt and uncle) when I am around. My two cousins were working and when they were around, I mostly felt their presence only at lunch or dinner. Exchanging pleasantries was not allowed. I prohibited myself from doing so because I thought I was a monk. Fortunate for me that I did not fantasize to be a super hero otherwise I would have made a run for Angel Locsin’s money. In those lucid intervals I thought that my only mission in life was to study and go to church. Discontinued worship after College is another huge arena of discourse that I’d like to keep under wraps for fear of losing my precious believer friends who regarded me as their “religious” ladder to heaven. Anyway, orange (monks’ favorite) was never a color I was fond of. It makes me look dark and makes look like a prisoner, which I thought I was also at that time. So I never had such a color in my wardrobe. I did not have anyone to talk to about friendships, relationships, essence of ever going to a famous university, food, and concerts that I wanted to go to because age gap is a topic that is taboo within the rounds of my family. (I only lived with much older people so I did not want to ask them about young things.) I was afraid the matriarch of my family (with some Chinese lineage) would disown me and rid me of any wealth they may possess. Knowledge of such possessions has yet to be explored. But my sources say that the hidden trove include having a street named after my surname, a wet market in Quiapo, a huge school that I day-dreamed would be mine in the future and a country-full of senators and congressmen ready at my beck and call when I want some issues addressed at once. Or if I want to create issues, that is!

When I finally got out of College and I began to address newer and heavier problems like where do I go to work, with whom do I live and what clothes do I wear, or what schizo personality do I drag with at work, I felt like my talents were gone. More so when I started to feel euphoric about my first pay raise, my first admirers, my first recognition, my first coffee at work and my first true awfully-not-so-me cheesy feelings. I only get flashes of writers’ kick when something bad happens. Gosh thinking about it now makes me feel like Avril Lavigne when she got married. All her talents in song writing went along with her virginity.

After thinking that I was a monk in College, at work, I feel like making a career out of washing clothes may not be such a bad idea after all. See I can write better when I stand over the sink and wash my under garments. I feel like I can get back the lovin’ feelin’ for writin’ when all those sounds I hear inside my head sounded like me dictating to my sorry self all the details of this article I am writing that you now have the chance to read. Think “Bruce Almighty” who hears a whole deal of people praying this and that to happen and his head would like to burst and thanks to his Mac book, he had those prayers answered overnight. Again, digital archiving. Only his had a whole lot bigger processor memory than my notebook. His prayer messaging capacity increased ten fold buy the second.

Now I am confused. Do I begin another career at washing under garments and get all the writing kick I can get at one session or do I continue being a pretentious banker pushing pencils day in and day out? I think my resume should indicate that I make people believe that I am better than what I really am.

Of course when criticizing myself, I have to counter it with positivity. I am no HR posse but I sure do value myself for something. (For fear of resurrecting my schizo self of its multiple personalities that sometimes awaken in the middle of writing, allow the self praise – it’s better than going through another craze). I think I have an eye for analysis. Really. I can flip a coin and never put it down until I find something in it worth saying. I am good at graphs and telling what the gazillion figures mean. I am a credit scorecard manager, an MIS Officer, a Personal Loans Credit Policy analyst and MIS specialist. I want my titles as scientific and long as possible because I know it might impress a few people. So why don’t I add potential businesswoman (industry: Laundromats), digital archiver, and monk into the resume? I might just get hired.

Winding Roads on unpaved highways

2007-09-02T15:02:00.000+08:00

I am twenty fucking three, weekend-less, water citizen, bookish, part time worrier and yoga practitioner. Titles. Mere ones.

Usually I spend my 9-5 in a bank, slaving out in front of a computer pretending to read between numbers and telling the money makers if we are doing ok in a business segment they are highly intrigued about. In the many titles I wrote above, I add to my curriculum vitae “scorecard manager”, data analyst, MIS officer, depression expert, and boredom fighter. And yes I type fast, too.

The head honcho of the bank I work for quipped that I am fit for a job where organization skills, preparations, prudence, and scheduling are top requirements. I can shoot resumes to corporate planning. We do not have such a unit in the organization as of the moment but I can definitely see myself in such an arena. So that is an option. A fall back in case my banking career does not fly off well.

But when I took a test a few weeks back, it actually said the industry I am in is exactly where I should be. I am terrified of public speech, jello over the site of blood, love arguments but can’t do impromptu acts for courts, grammatically obsessed but sometimes erroneous, my patience meter is usually stuck at zero, and I definitely do not want to be a doormat. So I can take care of other people’s money (usually bankers say they cannot take care of their own so they run after other people’s money and make them multiply).

However, in this stale moment, I recline and stoop down to actually smell the roses and ponder on the things that bug me about career decisions. Brings me back to thinking about my age and how other people might think I am too young to worry about this.

Actually I am ripe to think about the next step. Point being, here I am again thinking of what to do next – prudence, makes me more convinced that I am one of the most obvious candidates for a corporate planning path.

So let me divide my thoughts better and segregate two things: the worrying about what to do next amidst what others might perceive to be a good job where I am already at, and the best fit to a path where I should really go.

The worrying makes me all the more worried. I have a plan in mind but there are no results looming as of yet. Enrollment for a master’s degree is yet to happen. Online registration still up next month. I am so hoping for the best. I hunted for local schools then I will shop for international ones once I get funds or the potential sources of it. I’ll worry about the expenses once I get one foot in the door. One of those “I will cross the bridge when I get there” moments.

As for the best fit part, I can only raise my hands up, shake my head and nudge my elbows. I leave it up to the gods of the souls and the gods of the spirits for them to decide. I am where I was supposed to be at the onset and I don’t intend to break the pattern.

For the meantime, I intend to continue being the boredom fighter that I am. As a matter of fact, I paused my SATC reruns when I felt writing pangs. I know the next wave of those will come off after weeks of waiting. So I’m taking advantage. To fight off ho-hums, I will (yet again) redesign my wardrobe and get a haircut tomorrow and surprise my boyfriend after his driving lessons. I finally got the inspiration from Carrie Bradshaw (old as she is and confused) to actually dress my age and get all the love I can for I may never have it again when I get old.

The next time I load up on caffeine, I will choose not to write about what I always run up to at home or else I will risk exposing my secret addiction – books I read, genre of songs I upload on his 30GB U2 edition Ipod, talks I engage in, and all the intellectual movies and series I elect to watch when I am alone. Emphasis on the “intellectual”. Besides, these are all subjective labels. I don’t wanna run the risk of telling all. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeves. (After all that talk about career pathing and here I am hiding my personal stuff at home. Stuff.)

LONG-TIME FRIENDSTER LABEL - Really self-imposed

2007-08-04T15:52:00.000+08:00

It's always a weakness - somebody told me: matters of the heart are not for me to ponder on. I can take charge of a hard core GDP matter but not this one. I cannot graph my feelings and take the intercepts and identify what the reduced form of the equation will finally get me to true happiness, can I? So maybe, like my economics thesis, I'll just consult my horoscope. I probably can look it up there.

Of course my definition of single defies boundaries. Use your imaginative hookies and go figure. I'm smitten.

Biblical Buick: Outlandish Metaphor

2007-07-18T19:50:00.000+08:00

I’m beginning to create my own monster.

During the biblical times*, (although I still want to think we are still in that era since technically, the provisions in the bible, particularly doomsday, has yet to come), it was mentioned that no one can serve two masters at a time. In this day and age, women don’t serve masters when their partners are spoken of. They are just that – partners. They co-exist to make lives “better, easier and hassle-free”. That snippet does not just pertain to donuts or ATMs or expressways. It’s just that partners add up some necessary spice to a rather monotonous life for some.

Monotonous it is for me. I do have a partner. But the expectations I drew at the onset remain those – expectations still. No fulfillment as of yet. Although like the 5-seconder quickie, I find instantaneous and squirts of joy for being with this being. I am awarded movie time, lunch time, laugh time, walk time. I have all the types of time with him that come in all different size and shapes. But it’s not the quantity that matters. Quality is of utmost importance.

I am given due time just for the heck of it. Sick? I get visitation rights. I am brought food, medicine, friends. Do I get checked on verbally? Through text, yes. Do I feel the emotion that should have gone with it? Don’t know.

If I were given a metric for each ton of fulfillment I was given and I gave, I could garner the most points and win any contest of this sort until I die. This is how I feel at least.

Then I swerve to the original point I was trying to make – even using the bible as starting force.

I was entertaining one speck of possibility wherein I can start igniting the sparks of happiness again. In a car’s engine, if there is no gasoline to induce ignition of its spark plugs, it does not start. It dies from rusting and excessive dust. No matter how gross it may seem, I am comparing myself to this rusty old Buick (at least I am a Buick, an elite, expensive Buick) that is dying although it still has gasoline to spare. I am awarded a lot of it from time to time but the gasoline I am being fed is of a lackluster quality. It has detergent with it but the cheapest among the cheap family. Then when my thirst has been quenched with what I later discovered as the prime fuel that more modern cars are getting, I begin to discover that there is life outside of that long affair with dirty ol’ cheapbag gasoline. Have I known that I can stand sparking my plugs without that kind, I would have ran on low tank screaming wild for the newer fuel.

But of course I am a decent, lovely car. I don’t tarnish the Buick family that easy. I can work with any kind of fuel and remain loyal. And this reminds me, I am in the Biblical times. I supposed to bring justice to the saying that I am an equally good servant that makes lives “better, easier, and hassle-free”. I should also be paying him this much.

But as the Bible as well say that I should take care of myself as it is the temple of the Holy Ghost, I say that I deserve some good lovin’. If I don’t get it with this new fuel, I am not married to it. I have demanded a lot of times from it even using coercion, force, “kamay na bakal” to no avail. I’m beginning to create my own monster.

I am in a buffet filled with scores and scores of recipes that I can select from. I am at a liberty to pick one. I am clear with the action point now. I shall move on and get from Caesar what is due to Buick.

To you gasoline who made Buick’s life forever rusty, may your kind learn a lesson or two. I can serve two masters and abandon the old one for good.

*As in Old Testament biblical times

Veranda - My Veranda

2007-05-24T12:17:00.000+08:00

I have decided to make silence the king in this habitat. I own my four tiny corners and guard tight the space given me. No one can touch the barren ground I have labeled mine. Even my scent is stuck to its skin when I am away. The air that permeates the steel grills is familiar to me as I am to them. We have a certain friendship that only new acquaintances share. It has been just three weeks of this illicit affair with the space I call my decent living room, my kitchen, my bedroom and my closet – jammed into one: my own flat.

I have planted my foot in the air while resting my calves on the table I purchased that now adorns my mini veranda. I am so proud of it. I have finally completed my first attempt at interior designing that seems too cheap I could not afford to lose it. I was contemplating whether I should in fact enhance its existing beauty. I dared not and decided against it when I realized that my tiny space does not want all the clamor for glamour. It just wants all the attention it can get from what else but a set of small table and two lonely chairs. As if a plant, it needs to be nurtured, watered with love and filled with laughter to make it complete.

Stories of memoirs of people far south have already been shared in this slot. If a grocery productivity report were to be run out of it, it would have won in the tilts for maximized laughter shared per square meter, this space – my veranda.

The joy of waking up to a filtered light from the tall sky scrapers in the backdrop at a canvass of glass and mist is priceless. I feel as if I am tranced into an art gallery buoyed by the air, viewing the wonder of the earth amid the vast creations of men with nothing in between the sky and the ground but me afloat. The greeting that I get each morning of waking is such a blessing. The pure air I can suck in even with a 1-inch slab of glass and a thin curtain that separates me from this wonderful art is pure bliss. Blissful enough for me to think it as erotic. The finesse of the canvass and the contrast of the green against the reds and the browns and the rich blue with white and me still afloat are like ingredients to the best cuisine still untouched and undiscovered. The first friendly morning sunray is my natural alarm to put me into a state of sureness to endure the toughest of the villains that the world can ever come up with at each single awakening.

Breaking the joy of attaining nirvana in this description of my favorite nook of late, I remember the potential of the place as more and more people come for a visit. My little space could be the cooking point of bright ideas, so bright it would make the sun rays shy to their core. These are the brightness of the skill of a mind so sharp it could slice the monotone of the afternoon at which the ideas are exchanged. All the click of the money that can be produced from this tipping point can buy all the richness of the earth combined for nothing beats an afternoon delight shared among the sharpest of minds and the glee in the most wiling spirit.

This is a piece I wrote while resting my tired eyes and soaking it with the calm that the gymnast exudes in the park nearby. The cool yellow lights from the street posts hypnotize my being into a drowsy state that I cannot resist. Not even the best chocolates stashed in my kitchen fridge can take my gaze away from the scenery. Not even my lovely books nor the best primetime tube shows can get my hands off the keyboard in imparting this beauty to the whole wide world. This world is composed only of the only person I can think of that can appreciate this piece as he sees fit through the holes that give him his very essence – his eyes, his window, his ticket to the world.

These were the same eyes that saw me and my imperfections and still saw beneath flesh. There is some worth to those eyes that saw the real worth of skin deep attitude and intellect. These are of same grade to the eyes I use to appreciate the world that my favorite tiny space can offer. This place chose me and the eyes for which I write this piece for. For they know, in conspiracy with the veranda I own and guard (the only art form that took me back to this line of art) that I and my beloved can stay on talking about anything sharp people talk about, for the rest of our beautiful and meaningful life together. Talk is cheap but the eyes can converse for long. Head bent together and hands clasped.

That is appreciation – grande. Does not come in any other size at all. Non Fat. Decaf. Glazed.

Weddings and Water - At Cana and Greece

2007-03-15T18:30:00.000+08:00

Marriage is a point in one's life which one needs to ponder a great deal.

I recently attended one and it made me realize that I needed to marry someone who would have at least the same family status as I have or else it would be a shame to the family of the groom. I was and will never be very proud of the family I have. It's not the persons because individually, I would be ok with them. But it's the status that we are in - almost just hanging on to a thread of togetherness.

This was not what my parents would have wanted. I just hoped they did not meet at that destined time. My parents would have been of different cultures. Not ones with complications.

In short, if it would be my time, I could use a lot less complications.

I have recently acquired a hang out group.

Yes, no surprise. I actually made chums with some people. Never have achieved this feat before. Now is the time that I finally gain some friends that I can hang out with.

These friends taught me how to be my normal self in just a span of a few work deals. They inspire me to lessen my grumpiness and the mass around my waist.

They are one bunch of good friends. And hail to them all.

These are rantings that only I could hear.

I hope that through these, I could be sucked out of this permanent depression. I am a victim of what you call "corporate sacrificial lamb". My work quality is sacrificed just so we can prove to the other parties that they are wrong. So I bow.

In this moment of soliliquiy, may I just swim my pain away. May I just attend a dozen more weddings in this lifetime. May I drown my heart aches away in the 8-foot deep pool the size of olympic waters. And may I just catch the bouquet once and for all and settle all this indifference in my heart.

Dan

An insecurity that tastes like chicken

2007-02-22T10:25:00.000+08:00

I am a deadbeat shirt-jeans no-fuzz lady. Always was, always will. I was 5’ flat in High School, stayed in the middle of the flag ceremony line – just average. I was 5’2” in College, again just average. Stopped growing, by the way. I am now 5’2” at 22, not an inch taller five years after freshman at university and the only things growing are the wrong parts of my body. The only reason why I settle for round-necked tees and big necklaces to match my blouses is to divert attention away from my chest and hide the fact that there’s not an apparent bulge within that perimeter. And this piece of writing is not even about physical insecurities of any sort.

I want you to have a mental photo of me first before I let you in into the portal of my being.

Now we can be introduced.

We share something in common. The fact that I was able to keep you going into the first few paragraphs means that like me, you hid something in the past that you were making up for today, but still manage to at least look average.

To me, average equates to normal. If you don’t stick out of a pack then you’re okay. The more different you are, the more you have to prove yourself to others. Somehow, most people feel obliged to explain this difference. It’s either out of pure slack or you don’t have much time. In my case, I wanted to punctuate anything spectacular that I do but actually do the entire process in an average, normal way. In other words, I want a loud bang but the way to get there is just normal.

Let me use the normal cycle in life to drive my point home.

As a kid, I was someone who initially wanted to already experience what it feels like to be in the huge world for the first time and just be excellent. My mother programmed my mind that way. My world consisted of my Kindergarten classroom that I share with 19 other stinky and hyper-active kids and one really Johnson’s Baby Powder-smelling teacher named Lea. Out favorite part of being in this version of the world was PE. After lining up into four teams and pouring talcum powder onto each other’s backs, this pack of 20 kindergarten kids are really in for some PE war. It was here that I tasted the first cruelty that aiming to be excellent brought out of me. Lea was dishing out instructions that sounded too Greek to us when all we were going to do was to play tag. I was first in line so I turned my back during Lea’s second sentence, hissed some strategic plans to my team and I was given the boot. I was asked to sit down because I was planning ahead in my desire win. With a kindergarten’s ego bruised, I stormed out of the classroom and went into the forbidden campus, which I later on discovered was the College area.

After this incident, and a lot of scolding from my school bus driver, I still gave the exploration a shot. Some mornings, before classes start, risking one more trip from the College campus to where we belong, best friend in tow, we’d get so late for the flag ceremony and get yelled at later by the teacher because I was so noisy in the process.

Once, I also tried my drive for excellence when I gave a bully a good kick in a part of his body where boys suddenly faint when this is done to them. I defined justice that way, from a first grade’s point of view because he kept on going through my stuff and taking snacks that my mother prepared for me. But of course it took some prodding from my mother and a few buckets of tears when I went home after he fainted that I did not, after all, killed a boy at a tender age of seven. I never thought that there is a possibility that he might be shooting blanks in the future.

High school, as most would agree, is considered as the prime of a teenager’s life. There are just a lot of education going on there, many of which are remotely related to school. This was when I first realized that I agree with one Hanson song saying, “If you’re different you can’t win, so you don’t stand out if you don’t fit in, weird”. That was one phase in my life where 50% of the gist of my narration occurs.

It was then when I worked so hard for a spot so that my name would be announced quarterly during recognition day. I quickly achieved academic success and the favor of friends, teachers and nuns. I lived an exciting life. But like they say, life up there is a boring static. You need toys, gadgets, and fun to be so happy. In my high aim for perfection, I came across mush for the first time – I had a crush. Then more mush when I had my first boyfriend at the age of 15. Of course in a teen dictionary, that would be called puppy love.

Here’s the thing: I felt like I was the girl version of Clark Kent straight out of Smallville where I can play god - juggling those little worlds between my two hands: the academe, love, family and friends. I still had a social life, by the way. Then all of a sudden, each of those worlds came crumbling.

No, I never dropped out of high school. In fact, I still aced my subjects. It just felt as if I were on a “me against the world” kind of movie. Like any other plot, a villain always has his timing. He stripped me with whatever academic wealth I had, sort of. He reigned in my academic comfort zones. I was dethroned, in a way. That was when the remaining worlds juggled in my hands were completely lost. But hey, I have a justification: I was out of town frequently joining contests and of course enjoying the trips. The family was blaming the boy. Being taken over did not sit well with them. They made me feel I was a failure. It’s too embarrassing for them to have a sash screaming, “FIRST RUNNER UP” all over. My friends stayed away because I was away most of the time, too. I was the only girl with no peer and all the other groups just had no vacancy. How much of a loser could I have gotten?

I still managed to graduate with honors but with only a little confidence left to spare for yet another jungle at university.

It was in college that I can fully demonstrate how to learn my lessons in Kindergarten, Grade School, and High School combined. Here, each stupid-looking student you get to sit with is either a High School valedictorian or salutatorian, just like anybody else! This is like the Oscar’s red carpet of College.

I’ve been overwhelmed by the mass of students whose daily language was in numbers, had cars, were filthy rich and turn beet red when trying to argue in Molecular Biology class. During those years, I got acquainted with insecurity. I was in the higher society before I got lost in a heterogeneous College campus.

To me, insecurity is a star-spangled word. It involves a lot of effort to be in such a state. For someone to experience it takes a lot of sticking out of a pack in the few moments of one’s life, then getting overwhelmed then becoming it – insecure.

I was insecure of a lot of things: the debaters for one, spitting a lot of saliva in arguing. I was insecure of those who drive cars to school when I need to walk a whole kilometer stretch to beat the next class start. I was insecure of geeks who instantly pull out ideas – beautiful ones in a snap and still manage to get the exact ideas that the professor wanted. I was insecure of great swimmers who slide past me in one of my PE classes. Heck I was even insecure of those kids who can chat loud enough for the entire 500-ha campus to hear. These were the kids with egos as huge as Luzon and can even lord over all the conversations you can hear. I was extremely insecure of everything imaginable in College.

This insecurity transformed a catty kindergarten into a painfully quiet College unknown and forced me to do College things in the subtlest, most normal manner I can handle. Of course I kept my goals in check.

A little fast forward, the only thing I realized was, our minds are on auto-pilot when we set goals yet we’re insecure – if we let it be. Once we programmed it to do nice things perfectly, it will, even in the most ordinary of means.

Right now, my views have changed. Those four years of excruciating insecurity made me emerge out of College to be an ordinary yet excellent kid. Emphasis on the last four words especially on ordinary. Let me correct my first claim in paragraph 5: to me, average is not normal. Only if you tell yourself it is, will it be so. It actually depends on the individual. If you want to take home the glory, have the required amount of guts. The manner by which you acquire it spells all the difference. You can be gutsy yet ordinary, low profile kid and still be a great person – standing out of the pack. Even if I thought I was scared of being unique, it pays to try and emerge successful. Now I know I can’t buy my way to happiness, but at least the 12 pairs of shoes to alternate on my way there can help me on my slow trek. Using the insecurity towards something positive is nice; therefore a little bit of it is okay.

2006-11-25T09:20:00.000+08:00

Silly how I fret about the smallest things that peeve me. Like last night, I was touching the back of my ears and I felt the piercing where my pearl earrings hung the day before. I never thought I would have them pierced again after going earring-less since first grade. Not even proms and parties would allow me to inflict wound upon myself for the sake of vanity. A few years later, I changed my mind. Now I carress the piercing and feel how hollow it has become. For the sake of vanity.

Now I can't even go to the bathroom and take a decent bath. I did not shampoo. I did not wash the same usual way I do. This was my state of mind when I heard the news. I usually caught zzzzzs for long during the weekends. Sometimes extending up to the afternoon. This time, I was just to fazed to face the awful truth that the number of friends I have (yes, I consider them friends even if we were not close chums), no matter how few, were again subtracted at least from this earth.

Yes, two, not one, and twins at that, of my friends died on a super highway while on their way home. The long stretch of the aqueduct leading home was too far a stretch for these brothers. I guess they were itching to just kick off their shoes and sleep that they stepped up the accelerator. I wish they slowed down. No matter how long the road, there is always an end to it.

They could just look down to us and watch us from up there. Now they can truly know how we wanted to protect them really. I know I seem not being able to forgive one of them for almost causing me to flunk in one important subject during senior year in college. But now, I realize that that was just petty. I forgive them and I wish they, too would do the same for me. I know. I closed my eyes and saw that they nodded.

Pete, Paul, you may be far from us now and when I see you in that coffin later tonight, I know you guys would not be able to talk to us anymore. We did not have the chance to even get an hour long conversation from you guys. When we see you in heaven, do drop a line or two. Straight from heaven. We may not have been exactly the best of friends, but at least we were lucky to have been additions to your long list of acquaintances.

Amen.

2006-10-27T16:07:00.000+08:00

Max Ehrmann
Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrenderbe on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantmentit is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952

Joining an organization way back was this hard and fun... But I did not go on. Let's take a look at what a 17-yr old used to have in mind...

2006-10-20T13:54:00.000+08:00

01-53643

On Waves and Budget

Hell week. Protests against the Iraq war. Money matters are inevitable. Innumerable red shirt days and protest rallies make headlines. Final exams. I’m broke. I’m starved to death. But in two weeks, I’ll be home. In the province, I’ll cook for myself – sky’s the limit.

Before giving my brains a bust for the examinations, I while the time away by dreaming about my vacation. I can feel the summer sun kissing my cheeks, the warm sand tickling my feet. When the full moon is up, I enjoy a dip and walk the entire stretch of white beach lining the borders of my town. My soliloquy is only interrupted by a ka-ching and suddenly a peso sign blinds me. But of course! I couldn’t get over the fact that I have yet to book a 2-day boat trip to take me home. It would cost me what little remains in my savings. This is what I meant with inevitable money matters.

My daydreams are always like that. Interruptions are always popping out. When they do, they always come with a price tag. Why is that?

Nice question.
Imagine this: you stay in a cozy resort with a French architect behind the landscaped paradise and interiors. You’ve been coming to the island yearly for seven years now and it was only late last year that the kilometers of asphalt road leading to the town were completed. Fast crafts were gifts from heaven. Whereas before, you cursed the six-hour boat ride from the city to the municipality which was still 30 minutes from the town, now you get to endure only an hour and 45 minutes on sea. If you have MMS, that would be a plus since you just snap at the paradise backdrop. Who says mobile phones are useless in the islands? Not anymore. Smart Telecoms provided connections for the town. CAFGU and AFP provide for the security of the townsfolk and the tourists coming in and out of the town. What more could you ask for?

But then again, you are stopped by the thought of a hefty PhP39 million fund necessary for cottages, landscape and accessories, PhP2 million for the sodium lights and sea wall and at least another million for other expenses. This amounts to a total of 20% of the town’s income. Reasonable enough because I’m always in for a surprise during my yearly visits. The town just gets better and better. At least there is apparent evidence that the local government puts the citizens’ money into good use.

The town’s budget officer said that upon deciding which should get the bigger budget, whether the presidential visit of late or the security measures of the town, they look into the long term and choose the latter. They have set aside some amount for the military men and constructed a camp near the famous surfing area.

Now, people shouldn’t have the qualms about going there. People shouldn’t fear for life by the mere mention of Mindanao. Every little thing has been accounted for and that would more than assure us that we’re safe and we would surely enjoy our vacation.

If only the national budget is like that of this northern Mindanao’s town. G.L. as it is popularly known.

It was such a treat starting this write-up right before my trip and ending it midway through it. Now, I’m hours away from the islands and I’m picking up a local magazine with my cousin surfer landing on front page. Now I feel closer to home and I can’t wait to get there now and fast. I may have personal budget deficits now but I’m beginning to deal with it. Again, I wish the national terms would reduce to just this personal level. No more rallies. No more red shirts to wear. I’ll just go straight home and cook for myself – sky’s the limit.

2006-10-17T15:45:00.000+08:00

I have never gone to Cebu for a day-long. At most, I get lucky if I can go to the nearest tourist spot for 15 minutes and light a candle for world peace (well including a bunch of short requests that can give Mike Velarde a run for his money - I can make prayers heard, loud and clear). Now, I just had the chance to tour the city for four days (two of them I spent on leave from work) with just about a few thousand bucks to spare. And I made it.

All I can say is, it pays to have friends in Cebu who have wheels. And a nice conversation topics stashed. And a nice ipod borrowed of course. And a good jeans and slippers on tow.

Nice to be back in action!

2006-10-17T15:29:00.000+08:00

Never insecure until I met you
Now I'm bein' stupid
I used to be so cute to me
Just a little bit skinny
Why do I look to all these things
To keep you happy
Maybe get rid of you
And then I'll get back to me

I wish could tie you up in my shoes
Make you feel unpretty too
I was told I was beautiful
But what does that mean to you
Look into the mirror who's inside there
The one with the long hair
Same old me again today

I cannot carry on feeling so affected with SMS sent to her. It's killing me. (That word you also use against me. ) I go out with someone else on a friendly date, you show me continuous texts with a girl I would not mind to rip off her neck for you to stop talking about her. This is my alter ego talking by the way. The gagging sound makes that so.

And oh if that's how the way you'd deal, fine. I'll just go on thinking, no matter what you do, she wouldn't like you back. Sorry for the harshness of the tone honey, it's just true. I hate that I still feel insecure but, darn, it makes sense to think she wouldn't bite for you. So stop. I have a game plan already. Bring it on. Guitar, here I come.

i am the killer of my own gist

2006-09-23T16:48:00.000+08:00

What I look for in a story is not just the gist or the climax. I sit down and take my time to internalize the bumps, roads and detours leading to the point where we sigh "eureka". Coz it's part of it. Archer couldn't have sold those thrillers at paperbacks if it were not for the bumps. McCourt would not have gained a icon status if it weren't for the roads. Spielberg would not have cheated the box office if it weren't for detours to his films that speak only of one theme - power! And I definitely wouldn't have had a following if it weren't for the flowery words I sometimes say to people. =D Cibo, Amici, Hard Rock, The Red Room. How do you think do they sell? They publish in some slunky daily some testaments of people who have been there to taste the ambience mostly saying one-liners they manage through their nose because they are leaving with one too many credit card maxed up and unsatisfied. Of course they are not gonna say anything tacky for the love of their lifestyle today status. That's life. It's rocky.

----------

I hope I don't get sued for quoting this teeny song I got over the net. I gave a bout of silent laughter when I came across it. It so darn fits my mood remembering one detail of my life that I feel so ashamed looking back to. I don't want to justify the outburst. It's about one suggestion I heard one night and it made me look like a laughing stock (remember the hotel example I just gave).

Isn't it weird, isn't it strange? How we all were just strangers on this runaway train? We're both trying to find a place in the sun, leaving the shadows, but doesn't everyone? Isn't it strange, how we all be a little bit weird sometimes. Sitting on a side, waiting for a sign, hoping for a lot of change....when you live in a cookie cutter world, if you're different you can't win. So you don't stand out, if you don't fit in, weird.

I hope you weren't just trying to fit in to the world. You say you are no conformist. You breed rock star-ish facade. You eat soaps day in and day out. You shop in bazaars but you window shop in the uber chic stores and convinced me that brands are better than non brands. I bit. I liked the compatibility. I liked the fierce competition. I loved the daily progress. I did not like going to the gist all so fastly. I insisted for a coming into your world. You just won't budge. You say it's not yet time. I ask when. You shrug. That came after the make up after an almost ruined race to a successful one year run. I tried to pick up the pieces. I still smell of glue all over and yet you still just wouldn't budge. You stick your nose up if I ask questions and when it's your turn, you evade.

See that's the ugly side of the details. That is why sometimes, I'd kill to get to the finish line. But now, it's not just yet the time. I'd kill to beat the deadline to this one goal I have: snag someone and last to fairy tale-ish ends. It just wouldn't happen in a fast paced city where pasta is considered couture dinner and soda is the new liquor and KFC is the only chic bar I know. The friends I have just wouldn't know how hurtful it is to know that the end is near to a friendship I cherished and tried to save for almost a year. Well, my gift card very well nailed the gist of it all: Happy anniversary...almost.

I think I am the culprit.

“Not another whining account at her blog page!” I go, “Yup. You darn bet. There’s nothing you can do about it sweetie.”

2006-09-12T20:23:00.000+08:00

I definitely have a thing for romantic spiels. I open-mouthedly watch out for these little droplets of words letter per letter as each movie character spews them out. I giggle and frantically reach for a pen when I hear a good one and plan the next time I can “accidentally” insert them into one of my conversations with a loved one. However, plan as I may, I turn jello when faced with it. So there goes my plan. But for the record, I have tons of scribbles in my journal made from a lot of rewinds and stops and transcriptions. You can see a quote from Smallville’s resident villain there, J. Lo’s scripts from a dancing movie and you can see a foreign film’s protagonist talking – of course in English already. Trey were not the bitchy cheesy stuff you’d expect, forgive the French, but these are more life inducing ones that you’d expect from intellects. These are neither fruits of boredom but more of fruits of wisdom waiting to be announced and used by the entire human race. If these words were unveiled to majority, then aside from getting sleeker, they’d also have some sense of love in their hearts sans the mush.

Hence, the long SMS I send to people I care for, more often for bitching about why I hate how my life is less than perfect, (I love those eyebrows twitching there but of course this is to make a point - exaggeratingly so) and more for letting a word on anger and wrath as to how that wrong thing you did to me added up to the total count of the evil in the world.

(Screeching sound)

Then all of a sudden, the hype of all the romantic movie spiel gets sucked by an air vent or something by an ugly remembrance of office gung-hos, family characters swirling into thin air, postponed shopping trips and of course my own romantic entanglements, which, by the way, have always figured in this one favorite spot in the world where only a few friends and I can witness. To finish the little perfect recipe for a ruined day, I have had to take home some work plus a hard pour of rain that soaked my costume for the day. I was happy though that I got to wake up at 10 with a bustling and splitting headache – at least the headache was caused by the right, er, better reasons – because I slept too much.

In terms of my love affair with the TV, I had to unlearn how to not sleep immediately when my head comes into contact with a pillow. But to no avail. The TV so got into my system that despite the nausea at the office, I can still stare at it blankly and not get tired of it. I can still brush my teeth spanking new, awkwardly clean and dentist-ready, clean the toilet seat from the yellow tar that stuck to it for about eleven years now watching five hundred sets of butts that sat on it, brush my dirty hard head, straighten out the stuff in the apartment and count the sheeps – some nine thousand flocks of them, thirty five hundred schools of fish (I actually saw Nemo in one of them), oh the ten fireflies that hummed away, well at least in my dreams fireflies actually make noise, and uhm yah the tortoise and turtles whatever differences they make amongst themselves and of course the tons of chores at work the next day. I get tired of whining to myself how I’ve gotten myself into this mess but definitely, I am privileged to be hearing a lot of inside scoops into the business that I walk tall, chin up among the bitching others for worrying about the wrong stuff and sweating the small things they can’t even make a decision about their lives that they bother others and pass on the blame for screwing up their big ticket accounts. How nasty.

Nasty yes, that‘s how I feel because right now, a ten-pager account of my ecstasy for taking home work cannot fit these long sentences I can come up with to express my bitterness and frustrations. You see, I am an enthusiastic and interesting bunch of personas rolled into one. I so love taking a computer home and do a teach-yourself programming language. (Cue: take the plastic off my lips – they hurt for forced smiling, thank you!) But of course, if there’s an ugly side, the beautiful swan awaits to be announced lurking at the other flip of the coin. I have gotten to sleep ten straight hours without worrying! I have eaten crabs, at least those baby crabs can pass for their parents when I craved for seafood so badly and I saw a dear friend at KFC today whom I wished I could still work with. Lucky her she moved on to another field in life. Good decision. At least she can shop for whatever she likes at a chic brand making raves across town. I wish I could do that. Power dressing for a magazine has always been on my list since third grade. That was when I came to know that cutting grass for my school lawn is not fashionable for the only third grader who dresses up in pink overalls and pink ballerina flats to a rural school by the seashore. I never understood back then why these kids can stand wearing slippers to school. I wore uniforms but definitely did not pass up a casual Friday showing up at school wearing killer feet that stink. See? I am an interesting bit in that scene. Ha!

There, all my week’s account for the fast and definitely furiously fabulous sleepless nights in one sitting. But before I end, let me just tell you a new language I have learned. It’s called English with a different Mandarin-y twist. I had to squeeze myself dry for basic English. I kept on communicating with Taiwanese counterparts doing the same thing we do on this side of the world – push pencil. Three points: a) at least I’m a prettier and definitely younger (and fashionably so) pencil pusher than the rest of them; b) my brains had to frantically search for grade three (hence the reminisce part back then) English that I had to act like a kindergarten for overdoing the imagining thing; c) Taiwan and the Philippines are definitely on the same time zone which makes me wanna slap myself for just making it seem as if they lie on totally opposite longitudes and latitudes in the globe. Sign for me to end this: my arms are sweaty and so are the different portions of my body that do not need to be disclosed in this article. Of course as a reading fan, you don’t need to check every damn part of this webpage to find it out but it’s gonna be one hell of a laugh for you to find out. So there. Tah tah.

The Art of War - Corporate Style

2006-08-30T22:06:00.000+08:00

In the morning, when I am obliged to wake up at 7, I yawn, stretch and wish it were a Saturday where I could just binge, pig out and feast on Desperate Housewives for eternity. The picture of the most distracting and obnoxious distractors at the office keep me alert. It's my pill. My "on" button that shrieks "WAKE UP" to my system. My neurons must have had knobs since the start to push me to the limits and tell me, get your small ass up to the stinkin' shower and get your enemies by their big asses, skirt down. It's a welcome change to finally have us sit where these people are in the office. Strategic. No one gossips about you. It's too apparent. They'd have to go to an expensive restaurant before they could kill us to the hilt - which is a rather suitable alternative because you have milked them of money that stripped them of budget to get them their "designer" brands fix. Anyway, as they say, "keep your friends close and your enemies closer". This is a battle. And we are in no way about to flash the white flag and tender our retreat. It's camaraderie at first instance. It's war at the next. A clash of the titans - overwhelm each camp with a swarm of bitter words and sharp thoughts to wound even the most aggressive soldier.

Victory is known, not made.

It's either you are the learned or the enemy. In this battle, I'd like to believe, that I am in the learned fence. We educate the enemy. They attack us. We wait for them to do so. And by getting there first, we win. And this exactly, is what we intend to achieve.

In this sensical world, you are the defender or the attacker. You can never be both. Pick one and survive. It's a fallacy, but a reality nonetheless. In the end, it all boils down to the one who stands last. And the rules is set at this level.

Tomorrow, I do not contend to be a defender. Neither shall we walk as an attacker. We educate. We make reality crouch at them and hold them at the weakest point until they no longer have anything to use against us. In that end of the battle, I can say that we have won. We have achieved the silencing of the other end victoriously. We have woven it with such a smooth plan. No kinks. No fuss. No strikes.

It's a war out there. It's cold. But we offer no shelter. No mercy. It's us against them. They will plead and beg and get sore. We will be mean. But we will win.

It's gonna be a huge jungle. But heck a beautiful one. I have just orchestrated the battle ground for tomorrow's hot debate. Surely, being in this job thrills me. I would not exchange it for anything else in this world. But trust me, Credit is a tough job to hurdle. I know. I have tons of enemies. And they don Prada.

reminiscing

2006-07-19T18:52:00.000+08:00

A little reminiscing. I just had a laugh going back to this post. Childish but I guess I still have a child in me. Funny I remember one time some officers made fun at how young I looked. It can be an unfair disadvantage. But for some, it's bliss. This is subject for another post. And I don't want to spill the beans on that first. Here is the favorite funny post I once did;

Hung Over

I ain't sure how to brand this...hmmm maybe yah i'm hung over. But not necessarily because I drank alcohol but because I saw some people, er, yah let's put it that way who were part of my past life. QUEER. Now they have corresponding happy lives with some new friends who happily fill the void I left. God they even call names I originally branded them with in the past. I shriek and go, "Wait a minute, that is my cute name for him/her!" NO FAIR. Even their pictures plastered together on the web show their grins ear-to-ear. I cannot hide the envy I feel. My knees turn jelly. They wobble. But ces't la vie. So I still go on. Knowing one day, I may have my fair share of that cutsie photo with grins extending to Milan.

I am not bitter, alright? Stop insisting that I am coz I might feel that way lest you stop it. So cut it out. CUT THE CRAP OOOOOUUUUUUTTTTTTT!!!! WWWWWAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

2006-07-10T16:23:00.000+08:00

Lifted from a magazine that I refer to sometimes when I am wallowing in deep shit and when I crack up a nozzle and wham a huge battering out of myself. In short, when I feel ugly. I quote this truly inspiring article for your own inspiration and your girlfriend's, too.

Read on...

10 THINGS MEN MUST KNOW ABOUT WOMEN AND SHOPPING:

1) If a quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach, the quickest way to a woman's heart is a platinum credit card.

2) We measure a man's love for us by the price tag of his gift, so the level of generosity we receive will be reciprocated accordingly.

3) Sometimes, shopping may be better than sex, and men shouldn't take that against us just as we don't take it against them if sometimes they prefer sports.

4) Men seek refuge in caves, we seek refuge in stores, preferably the designer variety.

5) When we say, "It's too expensive," what we really mean is, " Buy it for me, please."

6) We take shopping seriously, and so should men. This means, "Do not disturb our shopping hours." Men can always call 117 for emergency.

7) Here's a secret: Men can tell a lot about us by observing our shopping habits. If we shop for men, we must love them; if we buy sexy lingerie, we want to please men; if we always buy things we don’t really need… be careful, we might take the men to the cleaners!

8) A woman of style will always whop for the genuine article. If we don’t settle for imitations or poor reproductions, neither should men!

9) We can never resist a sale event, and it doesn’t matter how many there are on the same day – that’s what we call multitasking.

10) The easiest route to knighthood for men is by offering to go shopping with us and carry our packages.

I AM IDEALISTIC, AND DARN PROUD OF IT!

2006-07-07T17:05:00.000+08:00

Hi friend. This is worth posting. I know I've told you already but I want the world to know that I have grown up but I won't stop there.

This is a speech. Hehe more like a rant between you and me. Thanks for being a channel and I hope you won't mind.

I am young. I will still learn a lot.

Despite the stress level and the haziness of my ears, I quite clearly caught a conversation which ironically took place at the cubicle behind us between two people we shall hide in the names of Jelyn and Renato. In shush tones, they were laughing about an email we sent him months before requesting for data and how apologetic the wordings were for such request. That was alright. Now it dawned on me, I am such an idealistic bloke just out of college and easily irked at this kind of office scenario. I know I shall get used to this "normal' situation. I hate to say this but I so darn agree with you. Money or something can move mountains in terms of data requests. Case in point: people who need something from someone so badly can make him do it in a snap with coffee, dinner, a laptop case and sweet words.

And I hate it. I was never a boot licker. Seems like circumstances are forcing me to. I hope to find a way to circumvent it. I wish to have it my way - the cleaner way but my hopes were dashed this evening when I eavesdropped their conversation. It was like hearing someone bribe a governor to make the lawmaker get swayed.

I still hate it. =)

But I am loving the entire thing - the bigger picture. Sweet.

Thanks for hearing me out.

PS
I am not bitter. I just learned a lesson - the hard way.

I'm a Bitch

2006-06-26T11:30:00.000+08:00

Lifted from Cosmo some months ago...

BITCH:

1) Place a high value on YOURSELF. Take care of your needs. Men do not go before her basic necessities.

2) MAKE YOURSELF TIME VALUABLE. She moves to her rhythm, not his. This way, a guy does not control you or your time.

3) YOU ARE ENOUGH. It's take it or leave it. The BITCH remains the person that she is throughout the relationship with a man.

4) DO NOT PUT YOURSELF DOWN. When a guy compliments you, say thank you. Never talk him out of a compliment.

5) MAINTAIN YOUR INDEPENDENCE. Being independent of him makes you more interesting.

6) BE PASSIONATE - about something other than him. A man is not the center of your world. Don't stop working out, doing your hobbies, or going out with friends just to be with your man. Staying busy ensures she isn't resentful if he is unavailable.

7) YOU DON'T OVERCOMPENSATE. Women have a tendency to give and give blindly - simply because you want the same attention reciprocated. The bitch knows what she wants but won't compromise herself to get it.

Now, I'm getting the returns I ought to have from buying all those monthly issues.

YOGA

2006-06-16T16:06:00.000+08:00

In my attempt to live healthy, I was amazed at the price that I have to pay and the guilt that I may have to go through pocket-wise. But the guilt I felt today for inquiring on the prices of a chic exercise that most ladies now go through is just awesome. I felt my guts sturdying as the lady I called asked me if I have a website. In the five second gap between her question and my answer I went, "Do all ladies who enroll in their classes are that rich and vain to actually have websites?! Gee Cool!". But no. She meant to say "Do you have internet access?" I laughed. Silenlty and practiced the first fundamental of yoga - be discrete. I slipped in her spiel and told her, "Honey you mean, do I have an internet access?" How blissful yoga is.

Quote: someone else's post

2006-04-22T19:15:00.000+08:00

I'm sure she'd allow me to borrow some of her anxiety slips and posts. Dear to my heart, I guess that's why we are cousins - we feel the same this one.

It’s been a trying journey and I’ve learned a lot along the way. Let me share a few of them with you. Some of these, if not all, I’m sure most of us already know. Sometimes we just choose to ignore them. Most of these I’ve learned on my own; the rest by watching others. I didn’t notice I’ve learned so much until I wrote them down.
1. Don’t take it against other people if they don’t lend a hand when you ask them to. It doesn’t mean they don’t wish you well. They might have a good reason for not helping and even if they don’t, it’s their choice to make. You have turned your back at least once on someone in need, admit it. You’re not perfect, nobody is. So don’t expect to find a Good Samaritan in everyone all the time.
2. Trust in yourself more. Trust your instincts and follow them. You’re the only one who knows yourself best, and knows what’s really good for you.
Nobody is responsible for your life but yourself. Don’t blame others when something bad happens to you. Everything is a result of decisions you had made for yourself. Take responsibility for your actions because no one else will.
3. Don’t judge your friends when they don’t act or think like you do. They’re not bad people and you’re not better than they are. Everyone’s just asserting their differences. It’s been said since the Stone Age: we’re all unique.
4. Getting rejected doesn’t mean you don’t have value. It just means that it was meant for someone else. You were just passing by to gain something from it, a lesson, a friend or both. Everything happens for a reason. It’s a worn-out cliché, I know. But that doesn’t make it less of a truth.
5. Never hold on to a lie. It only hinders your personal growth and brings you undue pain.
Release your anger. Scream if you need to. It will make you feel so much better. Keeping it all inside is the same as nurturing it, it’s not healthy. But do so in moderation and know when to stop. Anything excessive is bad for your health.
6. Ask and you will receive – just not on your terms. You will be given the means, not the end. If you ask for wisdom, you will not wake up one morning with all the thoughts that created the greatest minds. You will be given problems to solve and you will fail until you learn what you need to know. Ask for strength and troubles will be dumped on your back so you can train yourself to endure. Don’t expect your wishes to be served to you on a silver platter. Earn it.
Goals don’t move; people do. If you’re aiming for something, don’t just stand there. Start getting your act together and take the necessary steps to achieve what you want.
Plans sometimes fail, but it shouldn’t mean it’s not worth the effort to make one. They help you see a clearer picture of your path. It lets you know where you are, how far you’ve gone and how long you will still need to go.
7. There are no shortcuts. Sometimes you even have to take detours. Be patient, you will get there when you’re ready.
8. Positive thinking works, but not the way you think it will. No matter how hard you will for something to happen, how many fingers you cross together, how often you call on all the saints, it won’t be if you do nothing. Things don’t just fall out of the sky. The power lies in acting on your beliefs. It acts as a brace on your back. It keeps you optimistic and helps you overcome obstacles ahead. It’s when you keep on believing you can.
9. Don’t be choosy when friendship is offered to you. Nobody has the right to judge others, even if those people need an attitude overhaul. There’s a reason why they are that way. Don’t force friends to change even if you mean well. Let them set their own pace. They’ll grow up in their own time.
10. You’re never truly in charge of your life if you are a reactor. Don’t let other people dictate how you should act. Don’t act on something because you were provoked. Act because you know it’s the right thing. You decide how things will affect you.
11. Not all criticisms are meant to put you down. Take heed of those that will be good for you and ignore the rest. Learn to differentiate.
12. Don’t be afraid to take compliments, especially if you deserve them. People who think you’re arrogant for doing so only lack maturity.
13. Never take credit for someone else’s triumphs or accomplishments you just made up. It may shoot you straight to the top but you’ll hit the ground faster than you can say yahoo. Lies will only get you so far then someone’s bound to know you’re a fraud.
Choose your battles wisely. There are those that are worth fighting for; others are just meant to make you worse. Know when to let things slide.
14. Nobody is below you. Try talking with people who you consider less fortunate. You may be more educated but they might know some things you don’t. Others may posses some attributes you wish you have. It’s how nature attains balance.
15. Ignore people who want to pull you down. Go after your dreams even if everyone else says you’re just wasting your time. It’s your life to live and your mistakes to make. You’re not living if you remain a follower. Carve your own path.
16. Always pay attention and you will never fail. Learn to focus and be aware all the time.
Sometimes we get so busy comparing ourselves to the best of what others can do that we don’t realize just how good we are. When you’re always competing with someone else you won’t see how far you’ve come. You’ll never feel good because you fail to give yourself a pat on the back whenever you succeed, no matter how trivial they may seem.
17. Taking the plunge when you’re not ready is a sure road to disaster. It’s like going to war unarmed. Acquire the necessary skills first to ensure victory.
18. Never lose sight of your dreams even if things seem to be getting worse. Everything will fall into place in their due time. Never lose hope but draw a clear line between fantasy and reality.
19. It’s good to be one’s own worst critic, but it’s more important to be one’s own avid cheerleader. No one will love you like yourself can.

I wish to wish a wish i wish and wish the wish you wish... can't have nuf

2006-04-22T17:29:00.000+08:00

I could not really say I can now die. No. But riding in a Mercedes Benz - sleek and chic - was surely one of the nicest things I can slash off my death wishes. One down, tons more to go. (I remember the buddhist's chirping bird on his shoulder whom he asks, "Is today THE day?")
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There is nothing else I long for now (at least for the time being) but a nice full body massage or a hot lava stone bath that will last for two hours tops. However, there is one alternative I was not able to resist - typing my heart out while I just flush it all away using this keyboard as propeller. If only I were a super hero and I can choose whatever power I have, I will pick that power where I can make people act the way I want them to. I'd surely pick my cousins to be my first magic recipients. Then I'd remote control someone else as well because he seems not realize it yet, but he's been adding to my already mounting stress as of late. I wish I could also just waddle my patience sideways a bit farther because I snap in seconds and everyone's been feeling my temper too harshly I get embarrassed for it. I blame the office roach and rodent for it because if it weren't for them, my desk papers would not have scattered on the floor, my folders would not have been in such a bad state of disarray and I would not have fallen bum first (with my two inch schu heels) on the floor for trying to catch that one little freakin pest that made my head so hot I could have launched a hot air balloon 70,000 miles off the floor.

------------

The next portion is in gray letters because my thoughts were all in gray. It's my angel and dark angel arguing. Blur it on if you please. It's a phase in life called teething. I can't help it I'm stressed.

I am not obliging him to feel for me everytime I go through a tantrum because a huge file I was trying to perfect messed up and I felt screwed. I just do not feel he is doing his job right in empathizing with how I feel. He does not manage to meet my expectations whenever I discreetly observe how he does things when with me. He picks other people over me when we go on our usual Sunday dates and he will spend the long weekend out of town with his friends. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Only that I wrongly planned out my life by having less friends in high school and college such that when I finally had the money to go out more often, I do not enjoy it as much without anyone to spend all the time and money in the world with. I was wrong, so wrong in finally being happy to be able to spend time and make a part of my world revolve around him. I was also wrong to make him do this even if he thinks I should not make this little world be all over him. I do not go out and point fingers giving out the blame to anyone but me. (Do I sound like a cheap Maalaala letter? Coz if I am, darn, I might as well submit it as entry). I knew I'd be out of control. I've morphed into a faucet and can never pretend as much as I could before. But then I do not understand how we manage to stay stuck. There are times I want out, there are times when I can never imagine a memento sans him. Though it's killing me bit by bit, I want to prove to myself that I do not enter anything full of failures.
--------------

Well so much for moving out of my comfort zone. I want to own one of those little time nozzle pendants that I can just toss and zap into the before-time. I do not desire to be perfect - a little less is ok but a little more won't hurt. Definitely. The two things feeling the tremors of this are: a. my poor little credit card (chaching scratches everytime I hurt) and b. my poor little paycheck (ding in my email - empties first thing it gets in!). I wish I were like my boss's son who finds the girl for him (even if it means that he always ask me to please go out with his son - he'll be turning 17 in a while and I'll volunteer to be your driver - or what does it take for you to just date him - repeated over and over again). I also wish my hands were oars and my legs were boat bums and my hair were my wings so I can perish from one place to another bearing with me the sorrows and forgetting them in one flight while borrowing the happy hormones of the cumulus clouds (if ever they do have). I wanna do so many things at once and be happy in the process. Is there such a thing? If there was, let me know. So I can contact E-bay and bid the highest price whatever it takes. Can I also buy a double combo of transformer pills to make someone I know change a bit for the better and be good without adding wrinkles to my already crunchy face? Hell I want to push the restart button of my life and start anew. I AM FREAKING OUT.
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Is this what you call mid-life crisis? Although I very well hope that this is not yet my mid-life (bec if it were, I'd be dead in the next 22 years). I still want to have wrinkles - y'know at the right age and with the right money. I wanna get hitched and have tons of kids and beautiful kids. I can rant with my old maid friends and have them envy my kids. We can play poker or mahjong or whatever high tech game is hot in those times. Most importantly, I wanna be complete.

But for now, my only wish to is to sort things out and be happy. At least now, staring at my shoe boxes lined up at the bottom of my closet is my happy pill. Shallow, but sincere. Anyone else to volunteer as my happy pill? I'd surely love to have one now. Upsize please.

Work's new spelling: S-T-R-E-S-S

2006-03-15T19:41:00.000+08:00

I just found myself too mathematical this evening that i want to write an equation that this evening's jeepney ride had to offer: public utility vehicle = fighting arena (look ma, no swords!). Unaware of the 12 other people sharing the ride with them, they exchanged words only voodoo can shield.

I wished to publish a full transcription of the shouting match however, for the well being of the couple, I would have denied them of, er, privacy if I did that. On second thought, I am entitled to freedom of speech. Anyway, we dared not to strip them of that right for the entire 15 minutes of excruciating trip. Okay, I'm nice so I'll just tell the gist of their fight: guy won't listen to her poor story of stress at work and how her boss lorded her over at the office. The guy went, "Isn't that what she's suppsed to do - be a boss or something?" Girl quipped, "Kung ayaw mo makinig sa kwento ko, e di wag! Hirap sa yo nagkukuwento na nga ayaw mo pa makinig!" That was sorta trivial because(conscience taking over) I see myself in that girl sometimes (evil me again) although the milder version. I'm a walker not a talker (conscience again) although sometimes if it can't be helped, I use scant words to terrify the opponent and indirectly admit defeat because I employed a shift in tactic. Now I can say that my conscience and I are one in saying that.

The humblest I had become was witnessing that scenario in the odd arena of couples who take out to the world their sublime humanity and revealing their vulnerability to shamelessly argue in public. I was a spectator who fit into the shoes of the tiny audience that made part of that act. If I find myself in a sticky situation with friends of that public utility caliber, I will now have the ammunition that would stop my anger rush and could terminate my impatience over the problem. But of course, like in science, there is a saturation point at a certain level.

All this happened of course at a time when I felt the urge to write and pour my soul into some topic I could relate to. For the longest time, after the last entry (two of which are still to be published) I found the reason to write. I missed the fact that the keyboard seemed to be the only one who would understand the notions of my nervous system and the complexity of the nerve traffic that sears through my entirety. When the keyboard and all my ten fingers touch, they make amazing tandem that I cannot resist. Even if it means I have to sit next to ten other stinky kids in the next door internet cafe shouting at the top of their kidneys to kill each other over a virtual game of kill and tell (well, actually shout). I have unlimited internet access at the office, hell yeah, but I chose not to use it for fear that my boss can see my loath for her after she gave me and my partner a baptism of fire (meant to be read as lashing verbally for timing out early more like ahead of her everyday). No fair she cries! The boss ought to go home ahead of others - not even her newly appointed apostles in us. The past three months has been exhausting. And the only feedback we get? Three months of cleanup for deposit products bankwide were unsuccessful. I beg to say no. GIGO-Garbage in and out. But of course we aren't allowed to say that. Not in the corporate world - as my partner would say, corporate reality is harsh. No dear. It bites and it eats me whole - in the flesh. I don't freakin care if all twenty strong throng of kids watch my english as I tap tap away over my shoulders. No. I want my peace and my fair share of little room in my own arena of stress outlet. And the house I go home to everyday, hay I don't have much energy to write about it now. My energy (whatever is left of it) is to be saved for the tv shows I ardently watch - the beauty and the geek.

Guten nacht meine liebe.

Christmas minus one

2005-12-24T15:49:00.000+08:00

Who's complaining?

I'm what you call, "sanay". It's been that way time and again. He's spending it somewhere else this time even if we are in the same time zone now. Unlike before that it's okay to miss occasions that matter - he is in the other side of the globe anyway.

No fair.

But I figured, I'm too busy to worry. I have gone over that issue. In fact it's dead by now. Does not matter. We're trying our ass best to stay that way until the smoke dies down and the champagne bottles drain. That's life. He has to. If he were to be asked to spell this event in one word, it will go R-E-S-P-O-N-S-I-B-I-L-I-L-I-T-I-E-S. He has a lot of that. I understand. I always understand.

My understanding came in too harsh this time. I walked out and partied somewhere else away from them. It's not what you call rebellion. Because I "understand" perfectly well sicko. I always do.

But since it's christmas, I am supposed to forgive and forget. But wait, isn't it true the saying that nice guys finish last? For pun intended, I am no guy anyway. Hah!

SMS asking for what we are having for noche buena got replies from me like I am having pasta, salad, cake, kare kare, alimango, fresh fruits, heartaches and headaches for christmas. Y'know the usual. Oh no I am definitely not PMSing nor am I being bitter over something I am not pinned down for. No please, no! Chocolates made me happier. I owe it all to them.

Here in the province, I enjoy a lot because it tends to be cooler than in the Metro, mountainous, fresher air, fresher faces, and so many bitches I wanna go bitching around and text them all to enjoy and have a very merry christmas at our expense.

But in the spirit of Christmas, let us forgive and forget. Forgive the erroneous people who think for themselves alone and forget the enemies who wronged you. Besides, face lifts and wrinkle correction is expensive. I'd rather hie off to a holiday spot with my man than bust my brains worrying of how to make the next drop off line that can blow them all suckers to peril. May they all enjoy the Christmas spirit and think that others are saddened this time of the year because of them.

And no I ain't bitter nor am I bitchy. You can say that I am donning the red flag day one today.

Happy holidays!

EMBARRASSING MOMENT(s)

2005-12-23T17:36:00.000+08:00

I took a bath several mornings ago as if wasted, highly anxious of a power presentation to happen that afternoon. Thing about anxiety is that it makes me stare blankly in mid air and thoughts just flood in. As a result, all other normal thoughts get dispersed because obviously, even an idea/neuron traffic is matter, too. Anything that occupies space and has mass. (And I shouted that in unison with Agatha in the office much to everyone's glee-we got bickerings of course). Getting back, when my normal thinking was offish, I started grabbing my bath tools one by one in the same old boring order: facial wash (which unfortunately was not included in that morning bath...will explain later), shampoo, feminine wash and soap. But I did not have my facial wash that time so I went straight to my shampoo. After this it was the feminine wash's turn. But feeling like my face still needs a rub and that my normal course of thinking got dispersed by something else, I mistakenly dabbed (GASP!) feminine wash on my face! And officially, it now just becomes my most most embrrassing moment as I have just published it online. Moral of the story: never think sad thoughts first thing in the morning. Or else your wash for down there will get acquainted with a body part that it's not supposed to touch base on. Yikes. Embarrassing moment number one.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mean Girls at 12am right after a mean day with mean people sucks to the bones. Pink clad girls. Pink is so not the color of how I feel. How apt. I've been through drama and all but I've had enough. Familia. Que horror. Can't explain. Muy facil es mi situacion con mi familias (familias de mi papa: una y dos) - er, un momento, yo no hablo Español! Mi juan de amor es el bien de amigo. This is so first grade. Sheesh glad that he saw all of me. Bared to the tears. I finally let go of all holding back. I am not comfy grabbing onto others if I am totally screwed. It feels like I am turning them into some emergency button. However, this one finally lets me be me. And it does not feel anything squirmish at all. He reached out telling me that it is perfectly okay to tell all. I am averse to wearing my heart on my sleeve. But I guess this time, I have been given license to do so. Danke schon meine liebe. Danke schon. I will share everything this time but then that was embarrassing moment number two (look ma, no tears!).
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My father is in a very difficult situation now and that is what breaks my heart. The very reason that I poured out and bawled over coffee the night I left the wedding party of my sister in a haste. I saw this coming but I dismissed this thought when my dad asserted he is spending the holidays with us in the province. With this, I pushed through with my leave and confirmed my ticket. I was stuck in traffic on the way to the wedding reception. I knew I could not catch the wedding itself so I promised to just come for dinner at Rockwell - a mere 10-minute ride from the building I was working in. My cousin and I rushed to the place and got there by 7pm. Luckily we got included in the picture taking and the sit-down dinner started right after snapping our photo. I can still smile. I was feeling nauseous then but I did not mind. Two cultures mingling was not foreign to me anymore. The ati-atihan dance even seemed so common now in weddings. Then I just caught a flash of barong streaking towards me with someone in an old rose gown approaching me. I did not wear my glasses that night so I was not able to recognize at once that they were my half sister and my dad. With reddened and moist eyes, my sister spoke first and started with a clearing of her throat. Then she dropped it like a big splat of hot potato. The father is not going with me the next day to the province. It's either I cancel his ticket and go on alone (and face the wrath of my mother) or I rebook his ticket and go with him that day (which is highly impossible because i have already had my leave approved). So apparently I just went on alone and rebooked his ticket. As for that confrontation, I was never really good in those. No spotlights please. So out of emotional stress, I went straight out, told my daddy I was going home late, sped off to Greenbelt, sulked with JC, and concluded that coffee is the new alcohol. I really broke records that night. I did not hold back. I even used the table napkin to wipe off snot in front of him! Disgusting. But it was heart warming that I now have someone to share these downtimes with. No more pretentions. And what made me happier was that finally I met some people close to him which was a confirmation of my being part of his life for keeps. It was a laugh that I faced them with eyes swollen and all but I did not have a care in the world. I was poised like he said and wary of all the things that might come out of my mouth. Do not make a bad impression of yourself on the first meeting - my magazine mantra all the time. A slew of teary flashes came across my mind while in that chit chat session but I held back. I did not want them to think I am a cry-baby because I definitely am not. Their friend has gotten no sissy for a girl.

But en toto, I would not have known how to recover without two hands rubbing my back in comfort for all the bad things I have been through this week. And I fully bash in pride for making him show this side to me. It feels good that despite the heaviness in my heart, something keeps me going and it's not even just family and kin. They say a tried and tested good friend will walk with you in rough roads. I guess that was rough road one and there is more to come. But next time, I will try to remember to not mess my night with Mean Girls at midnight. It will destroy the entire thing altogether. For the first time, I did not feel a total loser for crying it all out in public. There were two hands guiding me through after all. Thank you!

Look ma, no more tears!

A Sudden Change of Mind

2005-11-27T16:29:00.000+08:00

In today's world, everything is instant. You have instant coffee, noodles, fastfood, skin tone, train rides, heck even the way my mom recants my past life and whatever hoolabaloo I did before is fast enough to compete against world records. So is my life in general. I so totally hate two things: the feeling of living life to the fullest and the idiot who made the motto "Live each day as if it were your last." Because I now am.

I'd want to weave a story of how I have contracted a disease and just poof. I know I feel something weird in the gut but of course I don't want this happening but I just wonder how it will be if indeed my hunches serve me right. My instincts tell me that there really is something going on in my innards I cannot help but wonder: what could I have done to deserve this? Of course there was no doctor who to break this sad news to me and that there will be no tests to be done and no living funerals please. I wonder who'd cry at my funeral though. Hah!

It happened once before - the thoughts of death flashing through my mind. I used to think that your life flashes before you in St. Peter's gate but it takes just one visit to the doctor holding your life's sentence to make you flush out of breath and go, "Yah what have I done to deserve this?" over and over again. And when the verdict was laid before my very eyes, the doctor assuringly patted me at the back and said, "Everything's gonna be okay", as if he were the one to be put under the knife for at least three hours and do an incission big enough to take out a lump that will say if I have cancer or not. Luckily the first time, it was a negative. No lumps yet to be discovered as of last update. But another complication is looming in.

First it started as an unusual cycle of menstruation that seemed to harmless. Then came the painful cramps extending to my back and leading to the discovery that I have levoscoliosis of the lumbar spine. I could not walk. They got me shots to kill the pain and insisted that I get the entire scan to direct the medications at the root cause of the devil attacking my immunity. Then the blood clots came. One by one they showed up making me believe that they were normal for someone who never had clots in her entire life before. Then the suspisions progressed as they abounded and the clots patched in one area of my knee then when they disappear, new ones would appear somewhere else. Hide and sick.

Left and right I have been hearing a lot of possibilities. The range is wide: some dismiss it as normal to my unusual menstrual cycle while some say these are just effects of my scoliosis and that I should have drunkem milk while the internet and some medical people tell me I should be paranoid at the very least and have my blood tested. If the patches continue, I might have some kind of weird disease that only scientific encyclopedias can afford to master. I suspect a big C but I cross my fingers that it's not. I often find myself staring blankly in mid air even in between gasps, in between scoops of my favorite chocolate ice cream, in between sweet nothings exchanged with my buddy, even in between angst attacks. Rude people say I'm doing an MTV moment out of it. I'd like to bash them and tell them how complex the nerve networks my thoughts are plying. They worry about tons of things at the same time and now this. Fate, as we speak, has gotten the better of me and I thought nothing could ever get in the way of my plans - not even friends who think of my plans as worthless. But now this. Never have I longed for a pair of hands to reach out to me and scoop me out of this mess. I want to get through this unscathed and do my thing. I want to teach the entire world a lesson. I want to tell my friends that there's more to me than just what I can do at work, at school and in my family. I have so much love to offer and yes I have found someone to give it to albeit some disagreements here and there, difficulties that abound. Still I feel empty. Just because of this. I want to get it out of my system and get it out fast. Never have I found the liking for sappy songs and feel-good movies. I know I'm not the only sick person on earth who suspects a lot of things that normal people should not worry about. But I feel this way so allow me.

I do not want to wallow in self pity and tell the whole world about suspisions. These are founded on gut-feel that none else can ever understand. It's my body and my nervous system anyway. Tomorrow, I am a walking time bomb. I remember how gross that movie Deadman Walking was. And it darn feels that way now.

If it turns out that these are all suspisions and tests would show a huge negative, that would be reason to celebrate big time. At least I'd escape death a measly thin line again. It doesn't help that there are people I know who scold me for being so paranoid when it comes to this. Reason enough why I keep things to myself. I have always been able bodied to take myself to the hospital for surgery, medical examinations and injections. Even emergency cases. Some toughy huh? You cannot blame me. So now, who's bitter? Definitely not me!

So what was the title for? My friends have always been dear to me. Not those who think that Ihave been performing lackluster the past few weeks, months even years now. Don't get me wrong. I do not hate them. Repeat, I do not hate them. I abhorr them. Nah, just kidding. I am kind. The dying kind of kindness. Haah and I ain't joking about my health, God no! I just love life and I want to live each day as if it were my last. And to the idiot who conjured that motto, F*** man! Why didn't I think of this saying way before? Why does it have to be you? So in case these friends want a change of mind for ever telling me things that made me feel this way, you still have until the doctor's verdict to rebound and apologize for Chrissakes! Sige kayo, if I die, I can always haunt you to my heart's content. Bow.

Morbid isn't it?

Mimicry

2005-11-04T17:12:00.000+08:00

The mind is an endless hollow. It fathoms the deepest pits of imagination. It braves the awful chains of fast moving cars plying the C5-Ortigas route just to get to you. Hence by spirit, I accomplish the one fateful triumph I so wanted: imagining my hand enveloped in yours, my head rested on your shoulders, my cheeks brushing against yours. Bliss. And I am now fine. Never better.
_____________________________________

I’ve always prattled about my mid-teen life crises. I noticed a cycle – an economic S-curve. Even my life is mathematically patterned. So does everyone elses’.
While I am at it, let’s talk statistics. In UP, there are about seven females for every male specie – population wise. That doesn’t even exclude homos and guys who do the rounds of AS running naked. To top it all, the male-swarmed departments (i.e. FA, Eng’g, & PolSci) had semi-nerds to full blast weirdos for guys. Either that or some bimbo tails them all the time. In short, I never had the chance to snog anyone in college. There was even a time that my motto became: "All the best men are always taken. If you don’t steal them, you won’t have them." This was bannered by Ally McBeal. If you stare at me, pathetic is spelled out all over my face. But that doesn’t preclude the fact that I’ve had deep friendships with the opposite sex. I mean I’ve had my fair share, too. But that’s that. Nothing that excites me enough to scare the guts out of the hair on my nape.

Until lately.

Of all misfortunes that the DNA map of my ancestors can pass on, I got their rough palms. Rough enough for two of my colleagues to poke fun at. Then it started with teases. We were sorta riding along with it. Then we dated. Typical. Gets boring when you think about it but really, when some complications went into the picture, everything was blown into different proportions. Or so I thought.
Have you ever felt that tingling sensation on your abdomen similar to the feeling when you need to take a piss and you just have to fidget if you can’t hold it anymore? It exactly felt that way when he first held my hand. His huge fists trickled my arms then it elbowed its way down to the arch on my palms. Slowly it went to the rough terrains on my hands – embarrassed as I was, his hands on mine felt better than the shyness I felt over the roughness and the coldness of my hands. I grasped his hands back and felt the beating of his heart through it and that was when I first knew how I seem to feel my heart synchronized with his.

I was first acquainted with mush the moment he started talking. See, it was never in my dictionary. He looked me straight in the eye, droopy and all, and said, "Dan, I am starting to fall for you." The ground split up and I can feel it slowly becoming quick sand behind my heels. They devoured my consciousness, whatever is left of it, and drifted it away to the heavens as if on a high.
My heart skips a beat at his mere presence and all that stuff. Yes I speak this language, too. I learned it the hard way that no matter how hard nosed you are against this hearty matter, the want is so imminent you can’t evade it when it faces you squarely.
And now, eras after we first went out, my eyes dart around so quickly when my radar senses him. It still is the thrill that only a one-month long fling can make you feel. Only that we have been dating for about three, running four months. Officially, as a couple, it’s just been barely a month. Who’s counting anyway? It’s not the length but the quality that went with it. The affection that went with it. As he put it, he wants each one to mean something. How touching. It sometimes makes me wonder if it really is true that the girl should have sole responsibility over this (er, mush and touchy stuff) but since he’s doing such a great job, who’d want unemployment on this matter be rampant? Definitely not me.

Our milestones are rather many. We were LSG partners in classroom trainings and he often delegates the most glamorous assignment to me: praying. A lot of speakers throw us onto each other and some even went to the extent of taping us and telling us how they have met their husbands in trainings and that they themselves were from the same school as ours. He from Taft and I from Diliman. Jsut like them. Omens. I’ve never had the liking for them but I never also said I did not welcome good ones.

Gems trading was a blast. We did not place on the top spot but hey we enjoyed. He had a game plan and that was enough to sweep me off my feet. I adore men who are good in trading and money and thinking. Don't get me wrong. I did not date a geek. But he sure does have something in between his ears. But that is not to mention this one time when I was feeling very cold, he took off his jacket and gave it to me and pulled me close. This was the first time I trekked the terrain to Taal and we had horse dung for lunch. The day was supposed to be a wreck if not for his subtle ways of showing he cares. It wasn’t this awkward fetal position (i was shaking so I had to bend and touch my knees so I don't fall off) that did me in. It was the warmth and thoughtful gesture he showed me that made me so happy it touched me in so many different places in my heart.
You wouldn't think he is capable of handing a girl roses. No not his type. Definitely. He is too quiet he retires in one nook with headphones in tow listening to his music with the loudest decibel I can hear from a distance. Made me think his silence was due to the fact that he has developed a hearing defect his olfactory nerves were already affecting his vocal chords... But he did. Three long, red roses. The feeling was like that of a kid getting his first toy gift at six years old beaming like mad and wooing and cheering "awwwwwwww" until I could no longer feel the ground because my heart stopped pumping blood to my feet. I stared at the long-stemmed roses on the table top pretending to be asleep while I lay there watching. If someone could have watched me that vary same night, he must have thought I have gone bonkers. My smile was nonstop that if there were a contest, I'd win the top plum: patagalan at pahabaan ng ngiti.
It feels damn good to call each other names that I first loathed. Then my ears became accustomed to them that if I don't hear them, I smirk. I understand now how those girls who 'fess about their beaus feel that if they don't announce it to the entire world comprising of their chic friends, they'd blast. Blasted I was because poor me I had no one to share all these joys with except a handful who already knows.

Lucky is a guy who is told by his girl that she is the jealous type. I am and I have made it known. Whether this was correct, I dare say yes but I am not sure. Would it be a threat? Uncertainly not. His eyes may drift away when he catches someone astounding in the hallway but I'm sure he remembers i am vigilantly keeping close watch. He may repeatedly bash about this lady from the office all the time he doesn't notice, when i made it clear that I am noticing, he becomes careful. He counters them and I can now be fine. But seeing us in the long haul in his own words was the best thing he ever said to me. Better than a pure pronouncement of love. Long haul means I am included in the plans he laid down. And this is the best form of flattery I have ever encountered.
He does things that to me are extraordinary. He has not done these yet to anyone and I take his word for this. And this, ladies and gentlemen is why I am so gung ho over him. The right word is we are special. I don't friggin' care if the rest of the world says I am drifting from my original writing style but sometimes you have to permit fluctuations. I am a free-lancer. I fall in love, too. Thing with me is that when I fall, I can't stop blabbering about him... He has the biggest ego on earth and he snaps in seconds. List those against the abovementioned things and the net result would be positive. I could go on and on until kingdom come but yah I have come to adore another human being who has touched me in ways more than one. Mush extraordinaire.

So help us God.

Idle hands

2005-10-09T19:38:00.000+08:00

I have a Chinese sounding surname. But I don't look the part. If you were to trace my ancestral lineage, you would find a slim chance of finding any familiar dynasty that we belong to. I never even had the inkling for tea drinking. I just enjoy watching little Chinese girls go through rigorous training for tea pouring ceremonies. Thanks to Discovery Channel. Like I said, I never liked teas...until last week.

The sales teacher that Mr Glenn de la Cruz is, he taught us the basics of sales - don't do hard sell. Never works. After a two-week sabbatical, he rose from his sick-bed and emerged with a vengeance. After all, he has a quota to meet and as of last count, he has hit his target such that his absence was well deserved (sorry for the term sir but had it not been for it I bet you wouldn't file for leave unless it's super required). That's dedication for you. Anyway, he first asked his Chinese clients the how are you's, how's James, Peter and God knows who else before he cuts to the chase. He inserts business talk only towards the end of the conversation. No hard sell. Chic. When he asked how the business was and the Chinese man replied, "Same as usual", that meant a P13M deposit in tow the very next day. See, he did not even ask the man directly to place money in the bank. Amazing.

Then came the tea session. Being the true blooded Chinese that they are, they served us tea and thus drank Dani in fashion. A slice of lemon was plunked floating on the cup. I sipped a religious first and a grain of sweat streaked on my cheek. Boy was it hot. It was boiling and the gentlemen of the round table pushed it into their throats in one gulp. Again, amazing!

Lunch came. Surprise surprise! Chinese food! Shabu shabu. I wore a blazer that day and little did I know that formality would do me no good in a Chinese restaurant. So I had to excuse myself from the guests and take off my blazer to reveal a huge patch of sweat on my chest. The guest chuckled and a blush on my cheek signalled him an awkward moment enough for him to wave it off okay. Talk about nice first impressions.

But everything that we did that day was nailed down so I dare say that we fared fine...until day two.

I woke up a little late for a distance that was no joke. I have had to travel no less than the entire stretch of EDSA from my end to the northernmost tail. Worse, I still had to walk half a kilometer to hail an FX that would take me to work. So I did no less than that and I must have wiped off a bucket's worth of sweat. I do sweat like a hog on any given hot and humid day. That was fine still only that when 30 minutes lapsed and I still couldn't get a ride, I was beginning to feel fidgetty and I was seriously late. I saw an FX, got in with too much heat that I was already cursing. Then my skirt went "ssccrrrrrrrr". &*@#! Someone ripped my skirt! I was not pissed. I was in killing mode! REady to dig into anything my metal mouth can bite especially the 200 lb woman who murdered my skirt! No offense meant to women this size but darn she wasn't looking when she sat beside me. As if that wasn't enough, at the first gas station in sight, the driver turned and gased up. Mother - Falter I wanted to scream and curse and whine and go home. Only I did not. I straightened out my outfit and plastered a smile on my face and curtly greeted everyone until my jaws hurt. Hirap magpanggap.

And no my day did not end happily ever after. We went to client calls still but when we got back, there was nothing for us to do so there goes my idle hands, itching to do stuff I want until ooops I pushed the wrong button. A siren wailed and the automatic dialler connected to the police station started. Unbeknownst to me, that innocent looking little thing was the burglar alarm. At least now I know what and what not to push during branch visits. That's something. I am a certified true banker.

Lessons learned: be careful what buttons you push and what food you push into your mouth (for the misguided, I ate way too much more than what my tummy can handle so it went berserk and I paid the WC a visit that day).

eyebags and saggy skin and male friends and being skinny

2005-08-16T00:49:00.000+08:00

It's past two in the morning. I desire to bid my requiem to the good ol' normal days where I could relax and soothe my hair with henna wax at such an ungodly hour. Those were the days when all I did was to stroke my pretty locks and be jolly. All I munched on was my economic formula due the next day. God must have been really fair to grant me this project to worry on. I have been losing sleep, weight, limbs and God knows what else just so I can give a 100% to this project. Boy it's such an honor to be chosen for this and I would give up anything just so I can get a slot in product development and be a slave to Row-dikilous Geneblazo til kingdom come (well as long as they give me the same salary or more in the next few months hah)!

Truth sometimes hurts that I no longer am a student. I ain't?! Woohoo! But I sure do feel like one still. They all treat me like I still am. But it has its perks. I can pass for an innocent little thing in junior high and pay P6.50 instead of the full P7.50. Take that! And I was in corporate attire that night! Maybe the manong driver had too much to drink and I have had too much to think of to ever mind. Not that I would, really.

I have been playing it low key lately. I don't go out that much. Please I would love to but I just don't have the time. I frequent the OT hot list and I am not getting paid for extra hours I bill in. Plus I get taxed exhorbitant amounts and yet here I am getting Lindsay-Lohan skinny and yet still manage to carry a zit or two with makeup cake and all. Sure my market value is dipping but I don't really give a shit coz I am setting my mind on something and hang on to some adage like a promise of letting something work out. (As to what it is, shush is the word I can vent out. The least I can say in public).

I wasn't really used to staying up this late. It's now way too late. My lids are shutting down but my hands continue to rattle against the soft touch keys of this EvoN1000c baby. (Just so you know, I went through a lot of techno stress. I brought a USB with me to the office. Thank holiness the presentation with the president was cancelled again for the nth time. My files went berserk at the last minute. God is good! I hope this shall all come to pass and give credit to where it is all due.) If I am not talking sense here, blame it on my idle hands. They tap tap tap away and I don't really have much of a control over them. They have a mind of their own and all I do is provide them with the periphery with which to work on. Lucky them they went bingo on such a pretty hardware! hahaha Pun of course. Ciao. (It's good that you smile because my joking capability have been in the rough roads now. It's good to have it tested...and on you.)

the wonders of technology, love and a lot more in store

2005-07-31T15:09:00.000+08:00

I have been out and about for a couple of weeks now. But I have not felt that awful feeling of getting stressed out and ballistic when I sit on my chair by far. Good sign. I am in for a serious run in the bank now.

I have completed the two-month classroom training and moved to the better-looking building along Ayala and my morale is at its peak. I see the president daily and a lot more pretty faces around Makati (don't get me wrong, I see a lot of pretty guys and stuff but it's either someone's clinging to them or they're gays). WHich reminds me that there's this guy in the office whom I'm so fond of but then he is less of a gentleman but I can live with that coz he tops the class always and he has soft hands (how I found out? go figure!). And then there's this other super cute hunk at work who said I was cute, asked for my number, asked the HR head if I have a boyfriend unluckily, this HR girl shot the wrong answer by saying that I have one. Sheesh. Now I don't wanna sound so assuming here but this is a time I can't help but say, "Houston we have a problem!"

-------------------------------------

My niece and I are currently "talking" albeit the distance. THank God for YM! She is in a different time zone - two hours advance Manila time. She is in Melbourne gushing that her friends absolutely don't have freckles and they play NEOCOM - a game similar to volleyball only that they catch the ball first instead of tossing it into the other field immediately. My cousin (her dad) says that I look like a ghost over the camera. Fantastic. See how this could have been if they flew there ten years ago? There would've been no exchanges between us then. I couldn't have seen my nephew play rugby so well had it not been for YM.

--------------------------------------------------

I have one concern at work. I was chosen to represent the trainees in the board during their planning session. We'll be doing hard core stuff while the others will continue to train. They feel so sad that they weren't chosen for the job and I am kept in the dark about it. My guy friend told me not to mind them. He is my partner in crime. Even if we were separated for the training we keep it a point that we call each other and see each other often. This chance is superb because I'll get to see him always. (Only that we have reservations about it). Do I see something brewing in the future? Hmmmm... O tian na! Wo shi dan shen! You wen ti ma? Zhen de ma? Zhen de a! Wo ai ta? Let's see... Wo hen yao ta.

Gibberish but ooh boy I hope I can tell this to the whole blog world freely. Without resorting to foreign languages. I ain't sure anyway.

DOWNTIME

2005-07-07T02:00:00.000+08:00

Unfortunately, I cannot speak Mandarin fluently yet. But I do know a few to actually squeeze a decent handful of smirks from the sinos. Sure I know a full song and its lyrics but when you translate it to English… never mind. (And worse, if you know who sang it…double never mind.)

For all it’s worth, let me tell you that the work place does merit its title of being the “real world”. It’s Unfortunately, I cannot speak Mandarin fluently yet. But I do know a few to actually squeeze a decent handful of smirks from the sinos. Sure I know a full song and its lyrics but when you translate it to English… never mind. (And worse, if you know who sang it…double never mind.)

For all it’s worth, let me tell you that the work place does merit its title of being the “real world”. It’s supposed to be harder and people who do not persevere actually do not get into the ball game. For instance, in treasury, I don’t get a few deals and be rich in a snap if I don’t go through hell learning the ropes of it. I mean I’ve always wanted to be a trader – a Merill Lynch trader at that. What a shame I couldn’t even begin a transaction by overthinking about what a bid and an offer should be. Life’s complicated and it’s worse if you add this variable into it. I go, “I feel so bobo (with the mocking face of an evil friend who’s ego can bloat a football field the size of Makati!) and stupid”, especially when I am the dealer. I can read markets but gosh not exchange currencies.

So it hit me, finally. I work for a bank and I have to face it that I have to be good in maths just to fit in. I am panicky I know. I even jitter when everyone’s asked of their interests and quotes and stuff and I don’t have my number. I go berserk and shake to the tiniest tendon in my body. I don’t wanna be left out and singled out because I failed at my freaking first job. I want to be known as someone who does her job well and does not succumb to heart failure because she shuts down when rattling and totally numbs out in confusion. Freak royale.

At work, I seldom get the chance to curse. So this is an opportune time. A888888888!…. See, even the way I write my journals has changed and I don’t like it. Not even a bit. I am too pretentious and too stiff there I hate it. But despite all this, I find joy in waking up each day to a wonderful day of realization that yes I am ignorant and people make fun of the way I say twenty and the way I combine words that shouldn’t be combined like a slip of the tongue “I fell so bobo”. At work, you have to be highly careful of what you say or do. But at work, it’s nice to have people around you who are highly intellectuals but does not cross the indelible line towards the nerds. We’re more geeks, if there is any difference.

Learning Mandarin...the Hard way

2005-06-03T23:43:00.000+08:00

I have so far mastered three languages and learned the basics of two more. Now I am learning another and I have always wished for this since I was a kid. But now, now that I am actually in the classroom learning the ropes of it, I wanted to walk out five seconds into the first day.

I just sounded too funny.

It was awful that our lao shi could just laugh when we would all shriek in painful laughter at how our Chinese was offish and a little too drooly. "I am sowry mah Eeeengleesh eees not that guuut", she apologetically exclaimed. "No that's okay, our Chinese is not that good either!", came the naughty reply from no less than the marketing manager from Standard Chartered-who was pirated by our president. Of course I wanted to snap my head off when I spoke my very first Chinese sound: "b" pronounced pwoah with no air. Of course my family name sounds Chinese enough but true to my calling, I am no Chinese bloke out to dish out my first wan an's or what have you's. God how I realized the value of being fluent in Filipino and English. I am glad I got back to earth after the hour's session.

She walked us through the basic Chinese sounds. Flashbacks of my Deutsche classes came flooding in. I remember spitting the rough equivalent of about a Kleenex-full of saliva - the words were not nasal you know! Gross! haha PUN! But no seriously, she was met with puzzled faces when the lehrerin entered the room because she started throwing long, strange and ugly words that sounded so, well, foreign to us. She was training our ears, I later found out. All she wanted to say was "Hello, I'm your teacher, bear with me because you basically have no choice. I'm a chain smoker and there's nothing you can do about it." Kidding. Of course she just said her name, profession, where she came from and stuff. All the crap you'd hear on the first day. But the Mandarin lesson is a different one. I wanted to puke the moment she turned at me to make me speak in Chinese and the only trace of being Chinese in my blood (whatever remains of it) are my chet, neng, sa, si's. God. But I think I went through the whole thing okay. At least that's something to look forward to the next session with her. This time, I can talk to my Chinese friend whom I haven't seen for a while...

No of course I won't master this language. I might just know some of it but it definitely will take more effort and pushing for me to actually like the whole setup. For starters, we do it every 530 pm where our energies are all dried up. Secondly, I see no point getting grades and being pushed again to the limits. I hope I can talk though somehow to someone real time and teach me better. And still, I am not convinced that I will eventually be hired as the next translator should a hot Taiwanese band come over. Too bad.

I don't wanna sound whiny but...

2005-05-28T22:59:00.000+08:00

...that's just the way it is. I am. Do we have a problem with that? My extra terrestrial power is finding fault at things I find important. But in a positive kind of way. So folks, again, the chronicles of my never ending whines in a nutshell:

As if international economics was not torture enough, barely a month and a half later, here I am again, trying to memorize - not mile long formula but light-year long non sense things about banking. I mean, what's the point? Banking stuff are better left unsaid but done. In the battle field, we won't be prompted anyway as to when an FX transaction is to be done or not or whether a new personal loan product is to be stretched or not. If I am long USD, and you are short in thirds, god I don't care if we both rot in hell watching the bloomberg and look nerdy all our lives and never make that million and still be promoted to what - a three letter-rank officer obviously being one of the thousands in the company and no one would really bother because all of you are VPs in the buiding anyway - the first letter might just be the only difference (S, F, V).

But today, I feel better. Good enough to merit me a good night's sleep and wake up so late tomorrow and not feel guilty about it. I hope to finish stuff I have to do and by golly, enjoy my first paycheck soon that I can now smell. (Courtesy of Sir Leo, Ichu and Mr. Roland of treasury who said nothing but good words - enough to make me be convinced to stay.) I can now walk through Lepanto with nil a worry in my heart to the tune of Php +++++ ...and counting. JOKE! Namputa sana bumilis na panahon at mag next year na so I can finally get that automatic merit increase. But of course I'm pushing it a bit.

On the Way to Recovery

2005-05-25T21:59:00.000+08:00

It helps to have started on the right note last Monday (meaning not late and feeling all fresh) at work and feeling all the more beautiful and dressed to the teeth. Now, my official business address is 12/F 8747 Lepanto Building, Paseo de Roxas Makati City. We do not have the funkiest elevator in town. Nor do we have the greatest pantry and building facade and abundant parking and chic interiors. But it will do for the moment. And oh we also have automatic main doors that just senses when a person's about to enter it just does. As if it has telepathy or something. I admire that door for just opening on its own when someone wants to enter or exit. Me? It's not automatic - the feeling of wanting to heal. Heal from the wounds of hurt. It pains me to be torn among jobs. I am not bragging here for CHrissakes! IF it does sound that way, you are always welcome to just hit the X button and scoot. But I just have to let this out. (HEart bypass surgeries are expensive.) THe HR of HSBC called me three days in a row since Monday. Again, wanting me for the job. Now that's two. Mega Magazines and HSBC. What did I pick? Ha! Chinatrust. "Where is it?" you ask? Well it's in Lepanto and Tower 1 along Ayala. It's big in Taiwan. Do I get a nod now?

But I am almost over the pain now. I feel, bit by bit, on the way to recovery. I just sorta feel welcome in the small family that is Chintrust. Just today, we were lectured by a John Robert Powers man. There were makeup artists and hair designers. I was lucky to be one of those who were chosen to be made over. And the artist said I looked pretty (DORKY smile plastered with eyelashes batting). He used mac lipstick and cinema secrets blush on me. I don't know which foundation though. But it was the bronze-brown shade. He shaped my arches which was massacred by my makeup artist last April for the graduation. At least that made me happy today. And oh just so to appease what I feel, I am with Stella and Agnez at work. They are magna cum laudes in case you do not know. And that ladies and gentlemen is the clincher. If they chose the bank to work for, I should at least be happy that these people also did what I did. I can see that I won't be regretting this in the future. Oh yah, on top of that, we would be taught Mandarin. Isn't that lovely? Not everyone offers free Mandarin classes and be paid! RIght??

Now I am comfortable with myself. I can say that God really must have plans for me. I thank my support group composed of people who never made me feel so alone shedding all those frustration tears: Mike, pare the best ka. Mei, you've always said the right things at the right time. Myks, Godly ka talaga salamat! And to Harold and Koi for completing whatever gap I feel in my heart. Tomorrow, I will feel fresh again and ready for another battle. Aye aye til then!

LOSER-LOSER

2005-05-21T23:06:00.000+08:00

I should be thankful that my diploma bears my one way ticket to the corporate rudders and that I need not sweat it out in exams or sucking it up to the building security personnel just to let me in and submit my CV. But of course I have had to go through certain misgivings and my fair share figured quite a number and these were not your ordinary dilemmas to be solved in a whip lash.

I narrowed my options to just three possible employers so that I avoid my already burgeouning headache. Then they were down to just two. I went, "This must be easy." Toss coin was not the best way to pick. Neither was eenie meenie. So I had to think it out - the traditional way y'know where I should, hmmm, actually be serious even just for once and I thought it was all too easy. Friggin wrong! I signed up for the surer choice. It was a truce between a magazine company (where I actually want to be associated with) and a bank (more established in Taiwan but still trying to penetrate the Manila market). Apparently I committed with the bank. Then the HR of the glossy baraged my mobile with tons of SMS. And I mean, lots! The gist said they were giving me a counter offer because of their candidates, they want me for the job and I was actually taken aback because my hopes were stashed away by the interview I've had with them way back. I never thought I'd make it. Rats! Of course I felt all the more stupid when I reread that SMS for the nth time. Since I cannot decline the bank anymore, I just felt so sorry for myself that I won't get to work with all those stylish people anymore who wanted me for that fuckin job. All because I gave in to the temptation of grabbing the most glittery job offer and a huge lack of self trust.

I feel every inch the loser that I already am. At age 20, they said the signs of being a big loser is not getting what you want and worse, not knowing what it is that you really want. On both accounts, I am guilty. God, so screw me. And it doesn't make me feel any better that the only fuckin* thing that makes me go on is this fuckin* webpage on this fuckin* day with no fuckin* one to condole me. So fuck*! I'm screwed. (NOTE: all words with the asterisk have been replaced so as not to preempt the real cuss I wanted to say and of course I'm fuckin* kidding because I really do feel screwed)

Change of mood. Cue: Claire de Lune background playing. Mr. Sy of the International Echange Bank once said that whatever it is that we do, LOVE IT! So that's exactly what I am going to do on Monday. LOVE IT! I hope it loves me back. So much folley for today.

(How do you write tears online without trying too hard?)

2005-05-02T16:07:00.000+08:00

Sulk, sulk.

So hurt.

Have you ever watched discovery? That show where they actually show morbid series called forensics wherein they slice you then open you up and then grab your heart and pump it (blood swooshing out) so you'd stay alive? It's sorta gross for the inexperienced blokes but yah i'm trying to make a point here. (huhuhu)

I've just suddenly felt that way today.

=( is this how a sad face is supposed to look coz it definitely is doing such a bad job at even coming close to how i feel right now. It's a gross understatement so to speak.

And why the sudden gush of emotions, you say?

Well, I'm jealous...sorta.

It's ridiculous, really.

I saw his message for this girl he's so hung up on. And it kills me that we go out (okay fine just twice but more than many times in a group), we've known each other long enough to merit me a similar message but he did not. Awww awful.

I KNOW! SO DON'T YELL! It's pathetic, alright. You did not have to scream. Sheesh. I get the point. I won't do it again - you know rave about that business of minding what he does for me even the littlest of them like giving me the full attention and looking at me square in the eye when I say something or insisting on footing the bill even if I made it clear that it was on me. Or maybe that one time where he gave me chocolates and he was early when he was notorious for being late at work last summer. Or maybe his calling me up to ask me out on such short notice and I gave in only because he sounded so sweet that even the toughest of hearts will surely melt.

But then again, I know that I am in such pain and anguish when my concentrated mouthwash (that usually takes me forever to down a small amount and makes my mouth so red I cuss at brush time) does not hurt at all. I felt it again today when I've read that. Makes me think now: did he do all those things for me because he knows I have the hots for him (and Gawd I even allow him to take advantage of it!) or is he for real? Dammit!

It's always a weakness - somebody told me: matters of the heart are not for me to ponder on. I can take charge of a hard core GDP matter but not this one. I cannot graph my feelings and take the intercepts and identify what the reduced form of the equation will finally get me to true happiness, can't I? No certain parameters can be plotted and regressed to tell me what the F*ck is wrong with me and why I'm so gung ho on him.

So maybe, like my economics thesis, I'll just consult my horoscope. I probably can look it up there. On our third date, I hope I get the guts - vooodoo style - to actually confront him and ask him if he does this because he wants to or because he knew it from the start that I might actually be a good past time, which by the way would make him downright stupid.

So get it on!

See how my scratch paper looks like...

2005-04-15T14:47:00.000+08:00

Love blinds even the sharpest of minds. We don't see because we don't wanna look. Once love is stripped away, we get to see the real person at last. - Lionell Luthor's dialogue to Chloe Sullivan in Smallville. (Again a marathon and interesting how i can still scribble notes in between seasons 2 and 3 of this marathon. Weird, huh?)

Someone who brings out the best in me.
Someone whom I can talk to the whole day.
Someone who talks with sense.
Someone with nice hands and cute grin. - I am not sure when I did this but I found it in my notes! I don't even recall why i wrote this in the first place. All I know is, my hands wrote this piece and it must have been after I saw someone. haha

Don't even try to over think about this coz you might end up confused

2005-04-11T11:29:00.000+08:00

Hindi na makakain
Hindi na makatulog
Taghiyawat sa ilong
pati na sa pisngi
Sa kakaisip sa iyo,
taghiyawat dumarami...

Tuwing kita'y nakikita
Ako ay natutuwa
Parang ice cream na binilad
sa ilalim ng araw

Pardon the prob'ly wrong lyrics but this song just popped outta my head just last night and even in my dreams it won't leave me in peace. It kept on playing and playing til my eardrums cannot tolerate the filter so it just allowed it and let it be. What could my problem be? I always thought I was for alternative and rhythm n' blues but this is just way unthinkable. But hey, if it wants to be rewound in my head ten thousand times, i don't give a shit 'coz damn it, this is exactly how I feel.

It was his eyes. No, his crimson skin, perhaps. No, not even that. Maybe the way he did his hair? Uhm, ah! The way he dodged his head when he spoke? Uh-uh, prob'ly his shirt! It were his stories that were highly unexpected because his front of being this psychopath reading some profound novels did you in, I bet! Hmmmmm, maybe. Could be. But in a way, it was his entirety. The way he led the way and the smoothness in his personality although I couldn't second guess that he was a bit uncomfortable due to the frequent 5-second gaps with nothing in the airwaves were additions to the long list of enumerations of why I liked him all the more that one afternoon (which eventually became an evening capped with frapuccinos).

I thought it was the start of something fresh for me. A beginning of a destiny I was dreaming about in my entire life. I was at least hasty the moment I sat there at the back of the car that was to take me home with him closing the door behind him while continually waving as he moved away. I really thought it was for keeps the moment he sent me a message that was to confirm that I got home in a piece. The next day in fact, as fate would have it, we intercepted each other in a busy highway of IM's plying the yahoo route. I honked him surprised to see him there. We must have caused a pandemonium because we burned the networks and sent in at most three messages per click. But it was then that I realized that whatever hopes I've had for him were for naught. I don't know how it happened but I just felt that way. I don't know what it was he or I've said but I just concluded so. And by the way, no I ain't a hopeless romantic like how you or a good buddy always teased me to be. I am just left wanting of attention. And I have forgotten how good it felt to have someone to pine for. Thanks though.

Bow... It was a story I can never forget. And it almost also happened to me.

Hung Over

2005-04-05T21:28:00.000+08:00

I ain't sure how to brand this...hmmm maybe yah i'm hung over. But not necessarily because I drank alcohol but because I saw some people, er, yah let's put it that way who were part of my past life. QUEER. Now they have corresponding happy lives with some new friends who happily fill the void I left. God they even call names I originally branded them with in the past. I shriek and go, "Wait a minute, that is my cute name for him/her!" NO FAIR. Even their pictures plastered together on the web show their grins ear-to-ear. I cannot hide the envy I feel. My knees turn jelly. They wobble. But ces't la vie. So I still go on. Knowing one day, I may have my fair share of that cutsie photo with grins extending to Milan.

I am not bitter, alright? Stop insisting that I am coz I might feel that way lest you stop it. So cut it out. CUT THE CRAP OOOOOUUUUUUTTTTTTT!!!! WWWWWAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Constant Manipulations

2005-04-04T21:44:00.000+08:00

It feels sore to a fault. “Does it take the whole day to wait for your turn to speak and get a ride then head toward the school, eat and wait some more?” Over-hearing stories haunting your ears as if the words keep a struggle to reach your ear drums. "Struggle" being the operative word. The sound waves volunteer the information to you. They. Funny how I make them sound so real, so alive as if they were my only allies in this nookie on the whole wide world. This big space of almost 350 m-squared is much too small for all of us. Perhaps this is a sign that I should just go grab that job from the middle of nowhere, where, according to an uncle is so far that I'd feel detached from civilization. "If that's where my big career-path-opportunity is, then why not?” say I.

If it feels so suddenly difficult to deal with me (I’d like to think they sorta more like miss me when I’m gone all day), I can always find that a perfect excuse to go poof. That would have been a realization of my long-forgotten dream of getting my own place and living on my own. A car would suit me best. But then, the horrors of settling down, cooking for my own food and losing my appetite altogether is just so unthinkable. But I can manage that. The bills? Ppppffffhhh. No biggie. (Waves hands to dismiss the thought.) Parking? It’s the kind of nowhere where there are nobodies. So who’s owning any car? Just the folks from the multinational next door. Erm, ghosts? Shut up! No way! I can pass for a dingy mascot so enough of that spooky talk I ain’t about to get scared. Feeling ready, you ask? Have always been.

I go about my daily routine as if I haven’t heard fragments from their backbites. As if I never realize they despise me a bit behind my back. I try not to conceal it too much because it might show in my facial lines. Not that I am aging but more because I don’t have any other avenues of release. I eat inside. Binge. Guilty afterwards but soothes me. Until I bloat. Float of too much excess baggage. Bleed to death if I get pricked. And the color of my blood that would spur out will be sinful yellow. My favourite. Now my sins are gone.

…Do I now make a good story writer? I’ll get an Oscar someday maybe. My friend Haydz always gets amused with the way I can make up twenty good scripts from our daily lives and make them dramatic. That’s one fan…and counting! I wrote this in purple to suit the emotions that go with it.

I have a following!

2005-03-31T22:17:00.000+08:00

It's official! I am developing a fan base. Insanely unmodest as it may sound but dammit! It feels good! Sulk all you want but I'm not about to budge!

On another topic, I believe that there are many people who actually have their self sacrifices in a way or another. It's been a fact time and again. The pledges range from their giving up of lives to the, well, shallow. Mine's more intermediate. My version lasted for about three hours. Four if you count the waiting time. Transit.

Let me explain.

Transit was when I had to take pains slipping into a filipiniana gear while it was about 35 degrees outside the building where I had to change costumes. Everyone was in their regal dresses at the film center ready to be initiated to this greek letter prestigious society supposedly from the US and invitational at that. So I bit, just like the rest of the 200 or so group of kids entering the work force this year. Anyway, I put my dress on for what seemed like kingdom come and hell I was sweating like a hog because my find was that of a vintage green satin with butterfly sleeves and ankle length ensemble. Never mind if it smelled like my lola's baol because it really came from there because it looked lovely. I paired it with a beautiful string of beaded necklace and my feet was adorned with silver sparkles care of my 3-inch silver stilettos. Sans make up though. Puhleeez, the heat would just melt a potential one hour of putting them on! It felt like I was covered up with a thermal suit because I was really sweating profusely! Imagine the cuss I muttered under my breath! If it is any consolation, at least I know that I have a fast metabolism.

Yes people! That is my own self sacrifice of late. And I owe it all to all the greek letters adorning our flag in that society worth a fortune. Bow.

Gasp!!!

2005-03-28T06:07:00.000+08:00

At 4am, when I awoke, I dragged myself to the bathroom, dressed up, did my hair and opened my eyes. All in the exact order I wrote it. Then I realized my phone's dead, oh well probably a lot of messages came in the night before. The hell. Murmuring one's prayer of thanks under one's breath is ecstatic most of all if you realize this is the day you await for so long a time you almost forgot it came. Then I plugged my phone for charging. Don't you just feel giggly if 10 messges come in at the same time and your ring tone doesn't understand if it wants to be rhythms and blues or hiphop or reggae because it blurs out when another message suddenly decides to come right after the previous one just came in? Hah! I was delirious! Not one was boring because even if they all just wanna say happy birthday, the thought that they wanted to greet you shmelted me enough. Then we sped off to Bulacan at 5am. There were no other cars in the street. We plied Commonwealth avenue as if we were on the south super highway running at 80 kph. Sweet! Then we arrived...at the gates of bulacan in an hour and we were caught in heavy traffic for almost 2 hours. Good Lord! I slept for that long! Then I was kinda disappointed that messages did not come in for that gap. The crazy beeping was only momentary. Not sustained. Well. Life.

Then when we, finally, got out of the car to start walking to the grotto, my phone vibrated so I was jilted back to life! I decided to take a peep. "J+++++ ++ calling" it said on the screen. Haba ng hair! When he said "Hello", I can't hold my icy tingly smile back (aka dorky look). So I said "Hello" back in my joy-suppressed voice. Buti I did not giggle. I wanted to faint. Whew that was close. I went, "Boy that made my day!" I can't remember what we talked about. Although I am certain he said happy birthday and that he tried calling me thrice that night but kept getting the voice prompt so he was worried I might've lost my phone or something. God, worried! Oooohhlala. Rats!

That, ladies and gentlemen, was my 21st birthday in a nutshell. No parties. No balloons. Nothing fancy nor grandiose. But the happiest. Fell on a good Friday, but darn good. It doesn't say "good" before Friday for nothing! Indeed, Good Fridays change but my birthday doesn't. So hell that saved me from rotting in profious boredom all day. (NOTE: Gifts still accepted.) Crass.

A friendster post one steamy, hot afternoon.

2005-03-24T18:49:00.000+08:00

This is an officially-paid ad.

...and it's on me. As you read along, do not, repeat, do not react or raise not a single piece of brow that still sticks on that forehead of yours (plucked or otherwise). Just read on, darn it. I am PMS-ing - more like signs of the times. I'm aging and feelin’ damn good about it that I wanna broadcast the feeling to the whole wide world. Tang ina. There. Nice starters.

Warning: this piece of thing is purely self-absorbed material. If you don’t like it, I don’t give a ++++. So go scoot. To some place called Sierra Leone or sum’n.

“So how old will you be by then?” read one silly text message I refuse to answer. Why silly? Well, truth is if you haven’t been 98 yourself why call a 21-to-be old? Okay it was no biggie until I decided to write about it, but come on! How would you feel if you were greeted by this text just when you were about to wash your face from an extremely humid afternoon’s nap a day shy of your birth day?! But when I hear myself talk like this, I grin, sheepishly knowing that it’s really not such a bad thing to be aging. At least I am reaching the pinnacle of my dreams. I know I’m getting there and I am doing so gracefully (allow the pep talk please – I’ve got the blues). I now remember an interview I had with a bigwig in some skyscraper fronting G4 the other day: BOSS – What’s your biggest achievement so far? ME – (I wanted to say, I’m almost 21 and proud of it. No qualms. But all I managed was a hypocritical…) Being a good daughter all through the 20 years I’ve been on this planet (while fluttering my curled lashes – and in my head I go “What a twit. Did I just answer that?). Sigh. (Did I clinch the job? That’s another story and browse through akoini.blogspot.com for the rest of the details.)

Gawd, this is bad taste. Crap on the eve of Christ’s death, which, sob, falls on my big day? I guess it’s a good way to see the light now that I’m putting on more wrinkles that come with age. Now I’m getting all pukey with mush. Don’t you? Well, whatever. All this megabytes for naught. Sorry! I warned you it’s all about me. As I’ve said, if I disappointed you for making you put up with this rather long read, well guess what? Nobody told you to. Again, there’s Sierra Leone to cuss out and say, “Darn! This is the perfect Lenten article I’ve ever read!” PUN intended, you git!

Note: There’s more to me than all the tang ina’s and darns in the world. Tomorrow, I’m starting off anew and, in the words of a dear friend na itatago natin sa pangalang Jasmine Turingan, “You will finally see the light and know Jesus”. Tang ina. I sure will. The family’s off to Bulacan tomorrow to attend a memorial of Christ’s passion in some grotto in San Jose Del Monte. Can’t wait. See? That’s something, huh? That starts the new stuff I would wanna do in this new, er, chapter of my book’a life. And I’m hell serious. So let’s get it on…

ready for the real world

2005-02-24T14:50:00.000+08:00

I was hell scared when I got in for the interview. Then I just distracred myself by chatting with uber friendly security guard whom we hide by the name, Leonilo Basilan. LOL! Of course he was super polite and I was cheery as ever when I chatted with him to hide the fact that I was really scared. But then the other guy who was interviewed before me came out and I was next. There. Kaboom, went my heart. But bottomline was, that was my nth interview and I enjoyed it. Heck yah.

of deaths and realities

2005-02-04T17:19:00.000+08:00

I feel really bad that nobody really cares about the sad fact that when somebody dies (well actually not just somebody but a big person in your life) nobody will actually really care until it happened to you. Well oh well.

This sad thing happened a few days ago when I least expected it. An uncle who was also a dad to me while I'm far away from home, died due to cardio-pulmonary arrest. The whole technical term is harder to pronounce but the bottom line is that he had a heart attack or something and it sounded like he choked then his nose bled. I can never bring myself to see him often at his coffin. Only when I want to tell him something like I miss his company do I gather the guts to do so. I pick myself up and look straight at him as if he's alive and just watching the horse race on channel 99.

When I see relatives cry, I bite my tongue to hold my own tears back. But I can't deny the pain. It's there but I remember how royalty handles death. They mourn in private and that's what I originally planned to do. But it seemed as if my cousins (Tito's kids) think that I am not affected. I went like, "WHhhattt?" I am one of those persons who have the right to be highly affected because been with him and he has been extremely kind (though kind is an understatement). My dad, who was here for two weeks, was very disturbed upon learning about it. He cannot go back here to attend the funeral because of the fact that he phoned me just when his plane touched down and he is 20 countries away... Aside from the fact that it was very expensive to get there, work cannot be deferred. It was difficult but we havta accept the awful fact that he's gone.

And as for me being thought of by my cousins as the least affected, I just cry by my lonesome, when I am alone so I can talk to him without anyone hearing nor seeing my anguish. I like it that way. But when he was laid to rest, I couldn't hold it back anymore as I cried the hardest as if there was no tomorrow. Indeed there is no more tomorrow that he's here. God bless his soul.

new place: hotshot skyscraper

2004-12-10T20:38:00.000+08:00

It's this new thing i have going and it's nice.

There are four elevators that can take you up - all the way to the top. Two on the north can only get you to the first 19 floors. SInce I'm destined way way up to the 22nd, I always take the southern lifts. There... Buzz buzz buzz on my ears and thump thump thump on my heart as I rehearse my spiels (I started working for a Philippine contact center servicing American Express and I don't wanna screw up my thank you's and hello's to the callers so I murmur all the way up). Just like on a plane while taking off or touching down, I remember to chew gum or swallow my saliva or just talk, blabber, chat to get rid of the ear pain. "It's pressure", so did that informative man tell another man on the lift one cloudy night. (Q: How do you know that it's cloudy when you can barely see the night sky?) Just a thought.

The job pays well, just so you know. It can make me survive the rest of the year without allowance from my dad (rest of the year, meaning all 16 days remaining: new year's just around the corner). But yeah it pays well enough for me to pay for my teeth extraction. ho hum.

I'm giving up my christmas vacation to the islands for this job, dang! Yah I know. But, if it makes me get a taste of how it is to finally be independent even if it's just for a mere 16 day-period, be it. And sheesh I can pay for extraction - that's something. And yah, I can finally experience a night out in a certified hot place like Eastwood. Those are the perks that come with the job even if they are not quanitified. So dear, jump into the band wagon and be one of us...

Dan Happy holidays!

In search for a job..Is it that hard?

2004-11-30T13:34:00.000+08:00

In this world where everything is changing, prices move with it. That's the time when everything that Paul Krugman and Samuelson predicted finally comes true. They all look doom to me any coating they may come. This is to say that I need a source of additional income immediately. What perfect timing but now.

So I braved Makati City with it's buildings and thugs all in complete business ensemble plus two best friends in tow. No I was not in interview mode but hell we did it. And no we did not push through with it (demonic class schedules did us in) but it was all worth the trouble. At least we believed in ourselves and got gruesome exams and experiences to boot. So another application's up tomorrow and I hope we address the schedule problem well and get over it fast. This would mean I have the dough to buy enough stuff to last til next year and happiness forever. God grant us this. Ciao!

across the country in an hour and 45 minutes!

2004-11-12T15:15:00.000+08:00

I am now a certified jet setter! Congratulate me!

I have just made a world record (my world is composed of just me, mysef and i) of going through Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao in just over an hour. I flew on Monday night, 8th of November, Asian Spirit flight 55 exactly 16:16 departure from Surigao northeastern Mindanao and the plane touched down at around 18:05. That was a breathtaking experience because I had no seatmate for one, and I read a book the whole time. It wasn't my kind of a travel to have the entire row to myself and being pestered by a priest (who is a relative by the way) to boot. Basta it was one heck of an adventure although I hoped to be seated next to a guy as cute as someone named gino in my STS class. Sigh!

This seems pathetic. To be writing for only myself because nobody knows this site and I don't intend to broadcast it to my friends. But then it feels cool to be writing online. Rocks, man. So now I'm gonna be making sure that the next time I fly, I should pay the one in charge for assigning seats to passengers and have me seated next to a cutie. But I should get the window seat or else...

ako ini

2004-11-05T05:32:00.000+08:00

Grabe ka luja an jari na byahe kay una sa tanan arang ka buslot sa ako bulsa tapos waya pa gajuy mga marajaw na wayong sa lugar na ako tag kadtoan. Kun natingaya kaw ngano nagpost man ako sa ingani na lingwahe, ajaw katingaya kay kuyaw na. Tagtujo ko gajud na bisaya kay memorable ini karajaw sa ako. Considering na jari ako sa lugar na suod sa ako heart, pito ka tuig kami diri so angay ra na sa lingwahe diri nako isuyat an ako una na online journal.

Niadto ako sa Guyam, Daku sanan GL. Three most celebrated places in North Eastern Mindanao. A lot has transpired and my patience was truly tested in my three-week stay here. First, I almost had a cardiac arrest when I learned that the thesis we labored for four months just got an incomplete and worse, I wasn't there to reprimand her! Oh hell yeah I wanted to tell her that it's all her fault. Had she not lost the damn paper twice, we wouldn't have been delayed. God how I wanted to screw her voodoo style! Phew in a matter of two weeks, she finally released our grade but it cost my thesis partner legs and limbs to go back and forth her room - her disorganized room!

Anyway, I wasn't able to look for hotties in the islands. It was my foremost purpose because as of last count, I was single for the past half year or so. I've had my share of petty flings and some but that was it. Nothin serious nothin superfluous. SO there. No I'm not complainin or anythin it's just that I am now wonderin if it's just me or it's the weather. Crass. I'm off to a date with an important person in the society (mayor's son no less!) and an important person in my life - my coolest buddy Koi. G'luck to me.