It has just occured to me that I have no idea what to do for the rest of my life.

From someone who has spent days holed in the library reading about criminalistics, onto someone who has spoken passionately about helping children through drama-therapy, then (bravely, stupidly) wanting to move to MSU-Naawan just to study Islamic Studies...

I have no direction.

This is a serious thing. You should some fucking place to go, have some sort of an idea besides "I have to finish my schooling, then have a job, go have a family, blah, blah, blah..."

It doesn't go that way anymore. Especially if you've interviewed hundreds of people, all of them in possession of the highly prized college diploma, and frustrated as hell because they cannot get a decent job.

It may be the wrong way to go about it, but I am at the point that I am yelling "Fuck it! Screw who ever you are. I will not submit to this reality. I will do what I fucking love and I will do it bloody well."

Not the prettiest of words, but the anger really reflects my mood.

I've always been goal oriented. ADD aside, kriszia with a purpose is a force to be reckoned with. When I wanted something, I made sure that I could get it.

Passion is admirable. Misdirected passion is bad. Passion without direction...well that's just plain shit, isn't it?

I just wish I knew where I was going to go, what I'm supposed to do.

I do not want to make the mistake of going back to school simply to earn a degree, or just to validate myself to the rest of the world. I've gone past that.

Years ago I told myself that the last thing I wanted to be was stuck. Stuck in a job that I hated, with bills I could not pay, and with a family that I was beginning to hate.

I'd hate to be stepping out of my future home, getting into my economy car, dreading the way to work, thinking "I hate all this. I never imagined this."

I never wanted the normal life, and I guess that's what I want to avoid. Let life be exciting, just never boring. Never normal. Never mediocre.

The sick part of it is that in every dream that I have, I never once think I would fail, and I still think that way.

I never got past the first stages with all those dreams, but I never imagines failure in any of them.

I just...I want to hold on water and feel the air. That's what I want to do.

Just talked to my mother.

They are talking again.

This is the longest "misunderstanding" they've ever had, and though they are again in speaking terms, I don't think they resolved anything. They don't argue, which I think is a problem.

A good ole physical fight is what they needed, in pretty much the same way that me and christine needed a loud screaming match.

I keep wondering how long this stalement will last. A few more months? A year? For when I move out?

I may be old enough to live on my own, but that doesn't make this easier for me. Even though I now have a better understanding of how relationships go and maybe a deeper sense of self, things are just as painful and confusing.

Six, twelve, eighteen, twenty three or thirty. It doesn't change the fact that your parents almost broke up. My famly was threatened.

Situations are certainly going to be different now. The coming year, their silver anniversary, may be the glue that will hold them together. If they adapt well to the current circusmtances for 365 more days, then they should be able to get through this.

If not...well, I guess this is just the way things are. Some things are meant to run for just a certain period.

In this play that I call my life, people have changed roles, the sets have changed backgrounds, and the writers keep changing the plot. And I am the star that has to go through it.

This year has got to be the year of contradictions.

My friend agrees with me on this. Everytime something good happens with us, it comes with a bit of bad luck.

The `rents are still at it, and it's day three for me. I have been telling people here at work that my mom is sick and I had to go tack care of her, when in truth my mom wants to go to Africa as a UN volunteer and my just wants to stop talking. To her or to us, i'm not sure.

I think he feels bad that i'm not talking to him, or that I don't ask him for a ride to the subdivision gates every morning. I haven't had breakfast or dinner with him since last Sunday either, and that is a hecka long time if it's just three of you in a bungalow.

It's a lousy situation. As my dad's defacto "son", our communications usually center on grunts, grumbles, and general talks about cars, motorcycles, Star Trek, and the dragging state of my future. The latter we don't discuss much since it's such a depressing topic.

Not that we really had a lot of those. As a spanish-oriented dad dealing with--well, me, there really isn't much maneuvering space in our talking relationship. Though like most girls, I was a daddy's girl and he feels let down that this might change.

It's times like these that make being an only child SUCK.

Not for the first time, I feel like having a drink of something potent and just forgetting about the past couple of days. But I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't do drugs, and nope, no sex. And this season has had me lagging on the excercise too.

I really do need to find some outlet for all these tensions.

For once in my life, I would like to have that one good thing and hold onto to it.

I'd like something good to happen, without me waiting for the other shoe that I just know will drop. To be able to just sit back and relax, and not grip my teeth because I know from past experience that this isn't going to last.

A I know from when I was twelve thought that I should breath.

Breathe. Now that's an understatement.

I've been taking deep and slow breathes since I left for college. My life has been, and from the looks of it, be an irony. Can't life give me a break for once?

Nuh.

I just want to hide under the carpet and sleep for the next 20 years.

Aha!

THANK YOU KAHLESS! I have finally--fuck-ass finally added a comment section to my blog...which is pretty useless, since I don't think anyone will surf on over and say anything about my blog.

Do people actually check random blogs found at the side panels of blogger.com? Of the millions of people who actually do own blogs and post everyday and get a chance to see the last ten posts...how many of them stop and read about another person's life???

But still! Ha!

Thanks to BlogBack, which was the only frig ass script that works for me. I don't know why the others didn't. Maybe it was the browser. I use Mozilla at home and Opera at work. Opera doesn't really support blogspot all that well...heck, it doesn't do much of a job supporting anything at all. But I still use it, and besids the occassional problems that I experience, it is a nice open source browser. And I can still switch to Mozilla when I come home.

And thanks to Jessy Delfino, who uses BlogBack on her wonderful Blog. If it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't have a comment script to leech. So thank you Jessy. Mwah.

Anyway, I've just finished confirming someone to my friendster list.

It's funny how some people will add you just for the sake of adding you. You'll have people who's got 100++ friends on his list, half of whom he probably doesn't talk to. Not that you can blame them. I've got people requesting to add me, and it's not like we were chummies or anything. It's almost like getting your yearbook signed.

There's this girl in my Rotaract district who gets a supreme kick out of having people sign her souvenir programs. We don't know her, and a great lot of us think she's--well, hyperactive. She's like Gidget on drugs.

Her constant badgering for our signatures and dedications irritated us like her. Even if she did provide us with a momentary distraction from rather long and boring plenaries, I think the boredom often still wins over her sacharrine requests.

...

I have this thing for Uber-sweet people. Kind of ironic, since a lot of people say i'm sweet. In reality, i'm just being thoughtful, which is entirely different. Uber-sweets not only go overboard with the charm, but can have this stupid naivete thing on thick. And the perkiness.

Ever been with an uber-sweet at 6am in the morning? Five am?

I have. Last I recall, it was Ms. Autograph who is uber-sweet like no other who roused me at 6 o'f-ing early. If looks could kill, she would have been phasered down to the bone.

Harsh, though I think the 10 other girls in the room thought the same thing.

For a person who managed to create her own webpage sometime ago, this business of not being able to add a comments script is just fuck-ass frustrating.

I always wondered how people who have been married for more than 10 years still get divorced.

After all, ten years is a long time. You would have learned everything there was you needed to learn about whoever it was that you're supposed to live with.

Later on you realize that ten years to an adult is a whole lot shorter than the liftime that is to a child.

I've watched people change, and other people go through with it, but I never once thought that my parents would go through the crucible the same way others did.

Now, I am not going to air out my parents troubles on this blog. It's their life and it's taken me years to realize that. It's taken them years to realize that this is my life too.

This post isn't about my parents life, but the countless others that i've observed going through the crucible at 5 years, 10 years, 20 years, and heck, even at 30+ years.

I don't know if it's them or me, certainly as a young adult my perspective on marriage and relationships in general have changed. But i'm finally beginning to understand just how little control you have of your life and people.

I used to think that I had my friends figured out. After all, they were my friends, I knew them. Christine aside, there have been major changes in our lives that have caused us to act differently within our friendships.

My friendship with Christine did not survive because of two factors: a) being her mother and b) being that she had changed and I had changed too. Things were simply too convaluted and neither one of us wanted to concede to any of the changes, nor were we going to accept how the other was.

Noted, and move on.

But beyond that...there have been other changes in my other friends lives that I never once thought would occur.

Their mode of thinking, behavior. Decisions they have made. Though I never once thought that I could 100% second guess their actions, I am finding myself just plain old screwed up.

They have done things that I never once thought they would do, but I now see as accepted. More like, they have changed, I have accomodated that change, and my mind is just late in shifting gears and realizing things.

The psychologist part of me understands it all, can rationalize and analyse and explain most of it, but the part of me that is me, that steps beyond what is academic is just starting to take off her rose colored lenses.

It's not at all confusing, but it is distubing. This is my life, and I am just know beginning to realize with startling clarity just how precarious human interaction can be.

At least, successful human interaction.

For someone who hates to talk to people for extended periods and yet is forced to, it makes for a mixed ephiphany. I don't know whether I should be happy that I understand things more, or sad that I understand things more.

Ignorance is bliss, and a part of me thinks I was better off being uner-objective and unaffected. This increased sensitivity can sometimes feel damning, but otherwise...a welcome relief.

Growing up is a bitch. But life can't all be pains and heartaches...at least I hope there's a lot more happy than shit.

Finally!

Today is Friday, the end day for a woefully slow week. People were ready to climb off walls at three pm yesterday, and were just about ready to bolt at five-thirty. Even my former boss--and may she stay my former boss--was bored out of her skull. She normally pretends a hecka lot better, but for some reason she couldn't find the energy to even look productive yesterday. She still stayed late though. With the project down to one more year, she has less time to steal the office secrets. Leeching off office resources is a tough job, but knowing her...well. She can do it!

The big-boss is still out in Indonesia getting some sun. I think she's xenophobic. I don't think she's comfortable with asian people...or people in general.

Yay for the former boss--and may she stay my former boss--then. With the big-big-boss out for a business conference, the big-boss roasting in the Bali sun, my former boss--and may she stay my former boss--is getting the high of her life.

It amazes me that she's convinced that this power-tripping lunacy is okay because she prays to God. Or prays a lot to God. More than the usual, though a lot less than a monk. But that it's acceptable since she makes up for it through sheer belief--which is more than the usual--and she thinks about Him a lot and goes to Church. I know she thinks it's more, she counts...BTW, did I ever mention that she is my former best friends mom? You know, the one who counts?

They ought to have been business majors. I think my former boss--may she stay my former boss--was an accounting major. Whichever case, they both count too damn much.

There's this Star Trek: Enterprise fanfic that I read once that really struck me. Dr. Phlox was talking to T'Pol and he said something like "I will never understand humans and their nature to count favors. It is a favor, you do not have to pay it back."

I would have liked to silkscreen it on my shirt and wear it to work on casual Friday. Maybe my former boss--may she stay my former boss--will react to it...or she could just think I was possessed by the devil (though I think shes's already convinced that I am)

My office has this cool dress code policy. They've bent the Smart Casual rule more than Captain Janeway has bent the Prime Directive. People show up for work in this mock Marc Jacobs/Ralph Lauren inspired country club sportswear. I've come to appreciate the fact that I can show up for work in slacks and birks.

Anyway, my former boss--may she stay my former boss--has this rather cultish Catholic behavior. I don't mean faithful, but cultish. The kind of zeal that you find in born again Christians only with the fanatical edge that you get from those end-of-the-world people.

They're not stock-piling ammos or food or anything, but they do come up with these weird shit. Like "the pope has been given an extension by God. That's why he's not dead yet." or "I don't care what other people may say, God knows what i'm doing..." Uh-huh. I say have a wonderful time justifying everything that you did. God may or may not count, but i'm pretty sure that one of His angels is doing accounting.

They also say that the Free Masons are out to rule the world.

I don't get it...do they have some sort of hotline that they call? Some LoneGunmen type of publication that they subcribe to? Or do they hear these cryptic messages through cracks in the wall or letters written in the sun? Where the hell does she pick up these things?

It scares and awes me at the same time that they could kill me if God ordered it. I admire the faith...but just how the fuck are you sure that this came from God?

That always did bother me.

I always wondered what it would have been like had I lived during the time of Christ and I actually saw him. Or be one of those jews following a pillar of fire or crossing a parted sea.

Miracles have changed. You no longer see them as burning bushes, but in the faces of people who have extended kindness and hope in places where there would have been none.

So what's my miracle for today...maybe not a pillar of fire or a burning bush. Not even a schizophrenic voice from a crack i the wall. Maybe its just me, in my new desk, in my own new space where I never see my former--and may she stay my former--boss.

Do you ever feel like work would have been great if only the people you were working with weren't so fucking annoying?

Now, i'm a sociable person. I like people, I talk to people. I don't stick my head in the sand nor do I yell "bah" and run away while calling people sheep. In fact, on a limited exposure, I can get along with almost anyone.

It's the long sustained periods of interaction that gets to me.

When you have to see them everyday and hold conversations longer than 30-second commercial outbursts that annoys me. Because anything else that is not related to work that comes out of their mouths is bound to be gossip. Heck, even my former--may you stay my former boss--used to indulge in this activity. Though in an office of around 30 people, gossip is the best entertainment.

Unless big boss finally bares her back, thus revealing her tatoo and putting an end to the speculation on just how long it is.

Of course, she would have to be drunk and on her way of the country before she even thinks of doing that.

Come to think of it, a happy office like for me is inversely proportionate to the number of people I talk to in a day. Okay, I have friends. Anyone beyond the small clutch of people I break bread with is etc. The less I see of them, the fucking happier I am.

Back in the day with my former boss, I remember that the best working relationship we ever had was when we were working as far away from each other. I used to consider it a huge bonus if I didn't have to be within five feet of her for more than 30 minutes--collectively--in a day. On the days when a call from the intercom was the only interaction we got, I went home with a smile in my face. Smile with teeth if she actually doesn't show up.

It was when the two of us got to be within twenty feet of each other that dragons started spitting fire.

It's my theory that you should never be yay-close to your boss. You can get along great, work like two parts in one machine, be best friends or award winning best acquaintances, but you should never be within 30 feet of your boss, unless you have the benefit of an enclosed office, or serving in a submarine where your captain could care dick on what the fuck it was that you ate, how much it was, and where the hell you spent your earnings. You can also be assured that when he orders you to do something, you can truly believe that the ship will sink unless you execute it. To the best of your abilities. Without fail.

Though sailors have the excuse of having no social life, be pumping with adrenaline for constantly living on the edge, and being stuck with the boss in a tin can in the middle of nowhere. Rank be damned, you are as they say "ridingin the same boat".

Bosses, officemates...what else?

The water-cooler that doesn't seem to work, the late coffee, the growing number of slow days...

A year into the first job and adjusting to actually having to deal with different people who are not of your own age...Methinks it's time to have that frst adult burnout just about now.

I must be the laziest blogger known to mankind...or blogger kind.

For a person who journals a lot and loves the sounds of keybaords clicking, I am one sloth of a blogger.

Anyway, the day is slow, the skies are dark, and everyone feels stuck in the office. No one wants to work, but wants to be at work, but not necessarily in the office. How messed up is that?

So far, everyone and anyone has found a reason to either go out, or do an activity that only just faintly resembles work, or just plod along with semi-work, though well done (meh)

Thus I sit here, listening to Yahoo Launchcast Radio's free service, because i'm too much of a cheapskate to pay for the ugraded service and get all the nice songs I want in the categories that I actually like.

Free is a word that you don't hear often nowadays. Why months ago, I even learned that my former best friend tallied all the favors i'd incurred during our eight year friendship. Which goes to show that even friendship comes with a denomination nowadays. And though it could have been in kind, I think she might have been equally satisfied if i'd settled our friendship debts through cold, hard, cash.

Tuition is hard to come by, and judging by the way that her family saves, they'll have to go through hundreds more vacations and thousands of dinners that they can't really afford before she lands herself into grad school.

Not that I care though. If she wants to be fat, unemployed, and still leeching on her parents until she's 45, fine by me and all her former friends. At least she's spent now until then praying.

I've decided that since the day is bitchy, I am going to be bitchy too.

It's been a long time since I was cranky and difficult, not to mention uttered a caustic joke. It pisses me off that my grunge era boss says the word snarky and is stuck on New Order. Proof of her past life is tatood in snaking tribal glory down her small back, not to mention her penchant for beer and NU107 Rock, nor her growing affection for pop-culture zen.

I find it sad that the Reality Bites gen broke out of their apathetic shells and grew into tai-bo kicking, caffeince sucking, suits who consider day spas as the next temple. It makes me want to smack their happies with a decorative coffetable book on zen inspired decorating. What the hell were they thinking when they put tofu on Starbucks coffee?

I think I liked them better confused and zoned out. If push comes to shove, my generation could always take up the helm to steer the planet while re-educating the next one: Britney Spears.

It's over.

I can't believe that someone life can ggo full circle in a month.

I've lost a friend, got promoted, moved, found new and old friends, got a new hairstyle, gained weight, lost weight, learned new things, while unlearning some useless old.

I never once thought I would sever my ties to this person whom I called my best friend., yet days before I couldn't even remember her phone number.