There are three Kriszia's in the Philippines and around a dozen more in the world...one girl is, I think, a russian violinist.

Oh well, at least they were right when they said my name sounded Russian, especially is you say it with a German accent...now how weird is that. My name sounds Russian when pronouced in German.

Argh! Is there no unique name anymore!

This is something I wrote for my former boss--may she stay my former boss--when she was giving me a shitty ass difficult time just because me and her daughter had a slight falling out.

I call it the "The Woes of an AA--Dr. Seuss Style"


how I wish the day would end
for my masters mood
is not the best

but what is new
that's what you say
she is like that everyday

yes, I know, to my lament
this is behavior is bad
and i hope not meant

will she ever come to work
with a smile?

without a crown, without a frown
without a sigh, without a nigh

will she ever let us
work in peace?

without a glare, without a scowl
and once i've also heard a growl

will she ever tell us
why she's always late

why she is never early
and leaves the nigh' so late

will we ever find out
what she burns

her systems back-ups
lexocons of CDs burned

oh, when will this
ever end!

yet another day
i think i cannot spend

reasons behind her methods
i do not know

reasons behind her anger
that i know

it's so frustrating to deal
with this day by day

when all the wrongs
does not with me lay

I Am Nothing is not my fault
so i will not take it with a grain of salt

I Am Nothing was once my friend
now we are just against

I Am Nothing i thought was good
yet she betrayed me good

I Am Nothing is what you have
we both were hurt so don't call me bad

it's so confusing
the story i wish i could say

maybe i will when in this desk
i will no longer sray

so for now i will just wait
for the end of another grueling day

My uncle wants me to fax my ideal boyfriend stats to him and my dad dresses like Robert Duncan McNeill.

...

Thank God i'm sitting down, two revelations are all I can take standing up and with my luck another one is just rounding up the corner.

After spending a remarkably small but considerate portion of my (oh blisfully free!) happy hours dissing Robbie McNeills choice of clothing, it's not with an easy heart to accept that my father has the same wardrobe.

I realized this yesterday as I was folding laundry and was looking at his shirts. Sure, he has no Hawaiin shirts (thank God no one has given him one, he'd fuckign wear it) but he has a few with equally loud prints. I was comparing the classic sport shirts that I got him for Christmas to his old shirts and found that a lot of them resembled some of the prints that Robbie had on.

Okay, first they kind of look alike, now they dress alike? Good grief, now all we need is for Damian Lewis and Nick Lea to join the fashion victim bandwagon and we can throw a party just to frustrate Vogue.

Man, I hope this thing isn't genetic.

Back in the office for my one day workweek.

Wore my mary jeans and ancient silver tab jeans with cuffs turned up and a light blue 40's inspired button down crew shirt...or at least, I hope that's what it's called.

I can never really remember what clothes are called or why they're called that way. I mean, when is a shell a shell and when is it just a t-shirt? Are they pedal pushers or clam diggers? And who the hell decides to call them these things? The divas at Vogue? Why not those at Cosmo or Glamour? Maybe even Elle? Do they hold of some sort of fashion meeting? Or do they have an established fashion-naming committee?

Anyway, I look like what I want to look: 40's grunge Betty only with dark hair. I would say Veronica only she would never be caught dead in said outfit.

I mean, the grungiest I have ever seen her the comic is when she was wearing demim cutoff hot pants. I don't think she ever went through the grunge phase even when grunge was in...come to think of it, none of the Archie gange went into the grunge phase.

Which is a wonder, since they went through the 80's demented fashion phase, and that's a fucking lot worse than the hip hop or even grunge phase.

I don't know what the people from the 80's were thinking. I aliens decided to land in the middle of Union Square and make friends they'd certainly feel at home with all the weird looking people milling around.

It took me years to modify my image of "punk" as some glam-rocked kid with piercings, an electric blue mohawk and really bad make-up to just the people who play good rock. I forgive the Sex Pistols since they're European. Besides, they have trancended.

Anyway, now that i've thought about it, I think Jughead went through this hip hop phase. Tons of Cross Colours stuff and the semi-lowrider baggy jeans.

Might have to check...

...

Just found out that we have work tomorrow. Will this ever end???

I may put in leave just for the heck of it, since I am just sick and tired of dragging my ass to work already. I think I have about seven left. Six won't fucking harm me.

...

Oh now, this is a shocker. My busmate/classmate from HS just Friendstered me. She...looks like a slut.

Bad word. Will soap my mouth later. But WTF? She used to be this sweet girl, now she looks like some lame-ass poster girl for a cheap RTW catalogue. And she changed her name too: Yzabelle.

I would say that this sounds more like a porn name than her old name, but Ysabs is an Ysabel and though she is a fox she is anything but slutty. I am just...flabbergasted by this. Completely taken by surprise.

I wonder what happened. How'd she turn out this way? I mean, how in the world could she turn out this way? I mean, I remembered her, we used to fucking sit together in the school bus on the way to school for crying out loud! I knew her, what she's like!

People change, right, granted and known. But hell holy, does it have to be this extreme of a jump?

Oh, look who's talking. The nerd who suddenly develops an allergy towards the academe. I always hated to study, but my odium has somehow spread to even the thought of organized schooling. For this point in my life, no school for me, blessed be.

Hmmm...maybe it's a phase thing for her too...good God, I hope so.

I never thought Iwould ever say this, but for the first time in months, I am worried about losing my job.

Actually, I care more about my losing stable income than I do about being out of work, which is a problem in and of it itself. I should care more about my work than the money.

I suppose it's the thought of having no monthly income and yet still have monthly bills that frightens me. I have to pay for my insurance policy, the phone bill, and money for other monthly damages: petrol, net cards, and developing and film charges. Batteries.

Unless I find a stable job by March, I will be spending most of the money I earned the previous year (which amounts to pennies, if you look at it) which means I will be without any savings.

I have to figure out a way to earn more money, and at the same time look for a stable writing job. I'm hoping to snag something up that's in conjunction with the elections, since I like political writing, but I don't know how well that would turn out considering that I have no solid writing background to begin with.

I need a few pieces to fall back on, and it's getting that done that's scaring me. As a writer, your greatest fear is being rejected. Your biggest challenge is not the writing itself, but the fear of being judged through what you have just passionately wrote.

I think it's bullshit when people say critic a persons story and expect the writer to never be offended. To disassociate themselves from their work and view it like it was just business.

You can't do that.

All writing is personal. It's never purely just business. You send out a part of yourself every time you write something, so a critisism of a piece is akin to tearing a small portion of a writers soul to pieces. You can never escape it, merely accept it, and that's what you call professionalism.

I think writers workshops are the worse critics, professional critics come second. Writers the lot of them, both equally ruthless. You can't blame them though. Writers, by nature, are moody and snobbish. They have egos bigger than the Goodyear blimp, and I say this as a writer.

This is because every time you come across a piece of writing, there is this tiny writer person inside of you that's forever comparing the current work in your hands with your own.

It can either suck or be better, it doesn't matter. There will always be this tiny bit of comparison with yourself, along with the silent words of "I could have done better".

It doesn't even matter if you were born not a writer but just a literary critic (with the PhD to boot) you undoubtedly are clinging to some sort of frustration to not have the writing pen in hand and just unleash all pent up emotion in a very heatedly opinionated column or debate.

Bah well. Maybe the saying is true: "Everybody's a critic".

Here's a bit of cosmic karma biting me in the ass: my cousin gave me the same gift that the big boss did.

So now I have two sets of white musk. Xarra says I should just use it and not let it go to waste. I tried to palm the stuff off her--since she actually likes white musk--but she didn't want to since it was a gift.

Maybe one time i'll use it. It comes in convenient travel sizes...but heck, I travel with my Mr. Wizard slippers, so I basically have room for all that other junk like my big jar of Body Butter.

Anyway, I went to two aunts for Christmas day. As a result, I wasn't able to get away to go to Sarah's party.

Both gave me gfts (a black pearl earring set from one aunt and a cute girlie bag from the other) and both are recovering from breast cancer. Maybe they pass remission. My aunt the jeweler is on year 3, while my aunt the artist/interior decorator is on year 1.

But let's not think about that yet...

I am, yet again, reading fanfics. Tomorrow I may just ditch the laziness and read up on Linux and pop on the new version Knoppix that Rhem got me. I still have to search for an online image gallery, as well as a free blogger to put in my server.

Yes, I am going to defect to another blogger. No, it's not because of the service, but becuase i'm poor.

I need a blogger with the works, so i'm going to do it from scratch: get script, customize, then load it to server. Thankfully, I have webspace. A rather expensive purchase on my part, which is one of the reasons why I am, thus, poor.

Xarra and I were chatting on YM the other day, discussing finances, lomos (she's sick of this topic) and our quiz results from Quizilla. Later, we talked about those times that we found money in odd places just when we thought we're flat broke.

At some point during the conversation, I asked her if she remembered that time when I found five hundred pesos in my summer bag and as a result, had a nice monster lunch at Tokyo-Tokyo. "Wasn't that great! It was that time when we were going to get our hair done but couldn't eat a big meal because we were broke!"

...Then of course I paused, which was when she typed the exact same thing I was thinking: we were always broke.

We're not destitute, we weren't indigents out in the streets. If we lost our jobs we'd have our parents to support us, and we'd never go hungry and still have some decent clothes.

But ever since we could both remember--even way back when I was still friends with Chrstine--the two of us shared this mindset of "my finances are my own". This so we can begin to prepare ourselves for independent life. So if we moved somewhere, we'd have a better chance of survival since we already had practice on being poor.

We both want to move to another country, partly because we'ev lived here all our lives and we'd like something new and partly because we always felt like we've never fit in.

We were just...different.

I remember feeling like some celebrity outcast in High School. Where they all kind of excluded you from their mindsets and activiteis yet couldn't really afford to ignore. The weirdness brough a different on a type of infamy, and since we were smart, and occasionally nice and generally genial, it was impossible to hate us.

Of course, it was that contradictory nature that osterecized us, much as the schools A-1 group of pretty and smart cheerleaders were hated and yet adored for their perfectly flawed nature...

Thus, the rest of high school was like trying to break in a pair of great shoes. They look great, everyone thinks they look great, but you end up walking like Popeye with a serious case of blue balls.

Good grief, I wonder how our 10 year reunion will be like in '07.

Scary, scary thought.

Merry Christmas!!!

It's close to 2am here and my parents have already turned in. We have a full day of visiting tomorrow, so some major regeneration is needed.

I am supposed to go to Sarah's (Sally's daughter) sort of Pledge party/Methodist Baptism thing tomorrow. I forgot what it's called. Sally's been talking about it for weeks, and I was really touched that she chose to share this thing with me.

Anyway, my parents and I had a nice Christmas dinner even if it was just the three of us. We opened up our presents (my dad got seven new shirts!) and I finally found out what was in the Mark's and Spencer gift bag--Chocolate mint wafers! And from Marks and Spencer! I was really happy about that, since I really like dark choco mint confections.

Then we listened to my moms new Russel Watson CD ( courtest of moi. and yes, my mom likes CDs for christmas) while I sipped on my apple cider.

Now I am about to read a Voyager PT fanfic (yay, Seema!) before I turn in.

Maybe I didn't feel like I was about to explode with happiness like the christmases that I had as a child, but I am happy about this season. We're all healthy, full, and with a roof over our heads. We're financially okay and I have the support of my friends (Mark and I had requisite career talk earlier)

So ho ho ho!

I am happy this christmas.

:)

I am checking out Bloom cosmetics site. I bought gloss gloss from them and now I am absolutely in love with it. The shade is Deep Coral and it is amazing!

Anyway, I'm checking out the site and I feel like such a girl. It's all pink and Down With Love and Audrey Hepbrun and it's a frigging cosmetics site! It's almost like the first time I shaved my legs. All shocked and smooth, feeling as if I betrayed some feminist conviction that I never really had.

In truth, I was just lazy. Shaving your leg hairs takes some time and serious attention (Don't look at me like that, those blades are damn sharp!). But during my debating run, where the competition was as ruthless in the podium as it was strutting in our business suits, I just had to shape up.

When I started, we all dressed up just for the heck of it. It was fun not being in our uniforms and we just went all out. Of course, we shocked everyone by showing up in our smart casual suits--and won. It eliminated all the smirks that we got when people thought we were only there to make a fashion statement. Ha.

Anyway, I think I started by bleaching my leg hairs with Sally Hansen, because someone told me that once you shaved your leg hairs they were going to grow thick and course and you can never stop.

Of course, the same thing happened with bleach which is why I had to resort to shaving. Those damn bleaching kits are expensive and it's just damn awkward to wear black stockings when you have blond hair sticking out.

Just to be fair, I didn't end up with monkey legs. They grew a lot stiffer, and yes, compared to my minimal coverage of leg hair before, slightly thicker. But they don't look as bad as some people though now they do need the regular maintenance.

Besides, if you've gotten used to having shiny and smooth legs, you just can't help but break out the razor when you see the hairs already cropping out. I'm not too fussy with it either. I just use lather or conditioner, and those green Gilettes for women. Plus, I have excellent razor control. The only time I ever slipped and knicked myself was when I told myself that I never knicked myself...which means I ought to shut up about it since I do not want another accident in the shower next time I shave.

...

The Bloom site was really...cute. Girlie. I played the flash duck game on the site and got somewhat hooked. You're supposed to click on this fast moving duck and get points if you do. It's an annoying stick figure duck in a pink skirt that sqawks when you hit it, I just had to play it. But the game is somewhat progessive so it sort of speeds up the faster you get. Which frustrates you since you are being beaten by a stupid pink duck. So in the end you really are just after the stupid duck.

I know, i'm posting too much.

I just got my cousin Sugarfree's new album: Sa Wakas.

Anyway, we both want the Holga camera, but I just learned that it uses special film...boohoo. We all know that special just means it costs more, so I will have to figure out way to get around that. Or I could just save up a huge amount of cash and get a Lomo LCA (Ten thousand buckeroos, baby!!!) which uses your regular 35mm.

In any case...I want one!!! I will have to borrow her action sampler or her LCA to get some shots of my cubicle. The lighting here in my place is amazing!

I have been taking all sorts of pics of Ms. Becky's gift. I think i'll name it "An Apple A Day"...now that is a thought out gift. She went to the Pottery Garden and actually took the time to look around and didn't just pick up the first convenient thing she saw.

It is now 3:33 pm, and I am an hour undertime. But since it is chrismas I'm hoping that they'll let it slide and let me go early. After all, I technically skipped lunch by going to the mall and trying to buy DENR's ink.

Ah, to be so bored.

Eating pizza that the big boss treated us to for lunch.

She doesn’t normally do this, so I'm taking advantage of this sudden burst of generosity.

For this Christmas, she gave all of us a gift package from The Body Shop. It contains a traveler's size combination bath gel and lotion of in White Musk. A cool enough gift if only I wouldn’t end up smelling like the a third of the support staff.

This is her first year of giving gifts—probably her only year considering the project will be ending and she’ll be shipping out by end of January next year. Last year she just kind of watched in fascination as the consultants handed the support staff gifts.

This year she caught on and raided The Body Shop gift section. Granted that everyone loves bath stuff, especially ones that come from The Body Shop, but the least she could have done was to diversify and to take off the price as well as the 10% discount tag.

It’s the thought that counts, yeah, yeah. I’m like wondering what thought was that? This wasn't a smarmy cheap gift or a hastily wrapped packaged, this was something that she picked up off some counter because she felt obligated and left out.

People still remember the maple candy incident. (a box of 24-piece Maine Maple candy that she brought home from the States to be shared amongst 35 people)

Hello, Martha Stewart! Rachel Ashwell! Jeebus, Katie Brown, somebody help this girl!

Maybe it's because it’s not the American way to give your officemates small gifts for Christmas. Heck I don't think these people give away anything that isn't a grant or tax deductible, or at least provide ample media coverage…positive media coverage.

Filipinos are so used to picking up trinkets for other people.

Sure, the stocks of scented candles and picture frames can be pretty annoying, but that’s the kind of gift where you will stop and say "It’s the thought that counts". They considered the scent, the price, heck what the shit looks like. They didn’t just wander in some store and thought "well, that looks okay, I can afford it" and it’s off to the checkout counter.

Here, let me just hand you a clean conscience. That way you’re free of any obligation.

I know I should just be thankful that I received something, but I don’t think she realized why people do this here.

You do it because you this because it's Christmas and you feel like giving. You do this because you want to make other people smile with your token. You do this because it’s tradition and it’s just a thoughtful thing to do.

I’ve had some really bad and useless gifts, but I appreciated them all the more because the people who bought them spent some time on it.

The best thing about this is at least she’s learning. There’s no doubt that she'll revert to herself when she's back in the States, but at least there is this small patch at the back of her brain that has at least learned something about social gift giving.

Maybe that ought to be a rule: If you don’t feel like giving a gift, then don’t. Other wise you will be found out.

Oh well, back at work.

It's the last day of the work week again and this time, I really do have to head on over to SM North to buy ink for DENR and at the same time accomplish some (personal) errands: pay phone bill and buy phone gifts. If I can squeeze it in, eat lunch.

Nearly a third of the office is on leave, so it's just me, the accounting staff, the big boss, and the former boss--may she stay my former boss--on my floor.

I am not looking forward to going to the mall, especially a day before Christmas. At this point, i'd be a whole lot happeir if I could just give my parents some cash and be done with it. No more shopping!

Now, I like giving gifts...to other people. It's fun to figure out what they might want then set out to get it for the best price--since prices seem to warp when the holidays hit. It the combined challenge of best price, best gift and shortest shopping time that gives me the adrenaline rush.

But buying gifts for family members (sigh!) that is infinitely harder. You never seem to get them what they want and when you do you always get one or two details off: doesn't cost the same, color is all wrong, not the right size, or they suddenly change their minds and they don't fucking want it anymore. Yay.

Oh well.

I just had a nice conversation with one of the consultants today. Willman Pollisco...he's a Jr. I think. We talked about headaches and golf (I hate golf and he stayed to defend the game--golf nut) It's great when one of the consultants chat with you, it kind of yanks some of the senior staff off their high horse.

It pissed me off when the big boss explained to me that they were treating me like a kid because I was a member of the junior staff, that they were oh so much older. That's not an excuse. You don't patronize your staff because they're young.

Maybe she thinks it's the american way to do things, maybe that's how they do it in Bethesda, I don't fucking care. It's not good management.

If this is how they do it back at the main office, then working there must really suck.

If she had to put up with this kind of disassociative crap when she was a junior staff, then I can understand why she acts like a basket case. She is the only boss I know that is gearing up to running an office and yet still looks at the floor when she walks. The only boss I know that just stays inside her office when the whole world outside is collapsing, because she was waiting for someone to come in and tell her.

... Rant, rant, rant.

This is her management style, if she wants to do it this way, then she can go ahead. It's not my career that we're looking at.

In the meantime, I will just be sitting here, mulling over what to get my mom as I continually surf for institutions that offer trainings in solid waste management. Oh, and sorry to the poor researcher who will stumble into my site just because I typed in the words solid waste management. Didn't mean to waste your time by reading my blog. If you want, we can rant together. You can give me a post and we'll have a cyber drink--alcohol free but still mind-numbingly effective.

My mom just checked out the first three pictures that I submitted to the mirror project.

She's not a great fan of black and white, though she did think that I was pretty clever for capturing those images...until she saw the others. After that she promptly scanned the room for other reflective surfaces where I could get more creative pics.

I'm really enjoying my camera, people--okay, friends--have been appreciative of my preliminary work. Xarra suggested that I try and sell my work, but I'm not thinking about ,aking any money just about now.

Right now i'm just catching up to all those times that I wished I had a camera but couldn't afford it.

I had a Pentax point-and-shoot when I was eleven which went around with me in Germany. It was a kiddie camera, really easy to use. That died on us when we quit taking picture at age thirteen. After that, we really didn't have any pictures. Most of the shots that I have of myself starting from age thirteen to maybe now was taken by Lianne, who was already into photography then.

My aunt lent me her Nikon F38 when I was a senior in High School. I lost the lens and broke the flash, and took only two, I think maybe three good pictures out of the three or four rolls that I actually developed.

In college, I didn't have both the camera nor the money to even develop any pictures that I would have took. Plus, I had my writing and my problems fitting in.

Despite everything that happened to me on my Senior year in UST, I don't think anything could ever compare to the misery that I felt as a Freshman, when I couldn't fit in. It was like fifth grade all over again!

I was mousy, I was rebellious, and incredibly insecure. I missed my friends a lot and had a hard time fitting in...Not that I ever did. The only thing I ever loved in that school was debating, and the people that made my team.

In any case, i'm glad I didn't have a camera then. I wouldn't have wanted to have any pictures to remind me of that time. I already have my entries, I don't think I need to see myself.

The mirror project is addictive! And when my mom saw the other pictures she thought the exact same thing that I did--you can do better.

Anyway, i'm going to be saving up for a Lomo. I have no idea how, but it will definitely not come from my paycheck.

Maybe I should establish some rules?

Kriszia's Lomo Project/Fund

Terms and Conditions:

1. You may purchase a Lomo of any kind.

2. Purchase of said Lomo must not come from your monthly paycheck.

3. All payments must be made in cash and in full. You cannot charge, you cannot pay installments.

4. You are allowed to solicit, sell stuff, work extra jobs just to acquire one.

5. Gifts are not included. If someone gives you a Lomo, that doesn't count, even if it is second hand.

End Terms and Conditions.

O-kay...that was short. Few numbers but all hard to accomplish. But it's better that i've written them down and I can see them. I am determined to go by those rules, my rules!
I will get over this slacking pace that I have been keeping and do my best to earn it!

...Oh shit, did I just make a resolution?

Holy cow!

I just learned that Whilsce Portacio illustrates for Robotech! Woohoo! Yay Pinoy talent!!!

I am currently reading Robotech fanfiction. If my friends learns of this, they will blow their tops. I think Macross/Robotech was the biggest obsession I have ever had! I talked about them everyday non-stop!

I don't think i'll be as crazy as I was before. I've been a trek fan for a long time, and the people in the group is amazing! But Macross/Robotech will always be sort of like my first love...or first obsession. Whichever you like.

Mwahahahahahahahaha!

I've also registered on the Robetch official site. I think I did it mostly to frighten my friends. They really did have to put up with a lot during my Macross obsessive days.

Hehehehe. Here's to Macross.

Now the search for my blog covers all Star Trek genres. Cool.

I am sitting at home, nursing a phantom migraine so that I could cop out from work and do some writing and last minute shopping.

I truly am dreading going to the mall.

SM Fairview is crowded enough on regular days, I wonder how it will look three days before Christmas. In truth, in only shopping for three people: Lianne (my cuz), my mom, and my dad.

Dad gets a sport shirt, mom gets sneakers (might change my mind though), and Lianne gets Sugarfree's newest CD.

I haven't really heard of Sugarfree, since I hardly listen to the radio while Lianne's is practically stuck on NU 107. To be honest, I don't really have much taste for the Filipino rock. Except for maybe Yano,which I have come to appreciate in my more mature age.

...

My dad is on the phone from with someone from Leyte.

When I saw the landslide on CNN I didn't really make much out of it. Landslides have become quite a common occurence in the forest areas. Too little trees, and with the weather down there it's easy for the ground to just give.

Anyway, my dad was asking his friend how he was doing and if he knew someone who died.

His friend said that the whole barangay had been wiped out and that the death toll had already risen to 200. I think even the mayor and his wife died.

The drama was the headlining picture this morning, with Foreign Secretary Blas Ople's burial cropping underneath in two medium sized shots.

One of the places that were hit was Maaisin, and I remember from work that they have a watershed there. One of the more successful watersheds, I might add.

I keep remembering the arguments that they kept having in the watershed workshop last june, whether a complete watershed should be devoid of forestland or should they have a couple of trees in some "strategic areas".

There are more technical terms but I really am not interested in learning them. I'm concerned for the environment, but it really isn't my interest. It's not...a passion.

Anyway, I kept wondering if the Maasin Watershed had something to do with the landslide. I can't remember if it's a watershed with trees on the perimeter, or if it was near any ofthe areas that were hit at all.

The arguments on that particular topic were contradicting. I suppose in the end it all comes down to luck and opinion: some watersheds work with little forest cover, some with a little bit more forestland to keep the ground from breaking up.

...

I guess i'm disappointed in myself for not being more affected. So there was a landslide, 200 people died...big deal. It wasn't anyone I knew...but it was someone that somebody else knew. It could have easily been my dad's friend.

I'm not saying that I should be in hysterics on each and every disaster and calamity that's going to happen, but that I should at least express some concern over this. And yet here I am, still hung up on my very short shopping list.

It's crazy.

A lot of kids today are the same thing. If 9/11 hadn't happened to the dead-bolted US, and it wasn't packaged and sold in such a clever way, I don't think the people of my generation would have cried such long tears for strangers.

We have become numb to the tragedies of today, and maybe tomorrow.

I remember sitting in my desk when they were about to bomb Iraq. A part of me was scared that Iraq would send one of it's non-existent nuclear warheads to Clarke or Subic and i'd melt from the shockwave while sitting on my desk.

And I hated my desk that time. I was in the reception eare and everyone kept looking down at me since I was the girl who answered phones!

Of course, that didn't happen. But I still had nightmares for it about two or three days about bombs dropping over my head.

That was, I think, one of the biggest things to ever have affected me. It was all subtle, but with the way I held myself and watched the news...There was an underlying tension present in everyone at that time. Everyone was going about their lives, but once in a while, they'd stop and wonder "Am I going to die? Are the bombs going to hit?"

It may seem a bit too much, but the possibility certainly exists, and we all felt that possibility.

...

Oh well, world peace for this christmas then.

I've found that if you do a search using Star Trek: Voyger, there is a chance that you might bump into my blog.

Of course, I could be number 17,000,000, 001 in the other gazillion Trek related searches but that's fine. I'm right smack in the middle of somewhere.

I'm looking at the joeuser.com free blog hosting site. It's not as neat as blogspot, but considering that it's just starting it looks pretty okay.

I just signed up for myspace.com, kind of like a less stylish version of friendster. The account is pretty slow and unmoving, mostly because it hasn't caught on and nobody that I know--well, except for Xarra--is there.

It's Monday tomorrow, and I will have to drag my sorry ass to work again and stare at my terminal doing my never ending search for training seminars. It has occured to me that the more people I surf, the more people I will have to call next year.

Ah, 2004.

Everyone has been talking about the project and the possibility of an extension. In a way, I am a little scared. Even if I won't be along for the project extension, the idea of having to pound the pavement again looking for a job kind of scares me. But it's the reality of things, it's what you have to do.

I used to say that I would never last in a nine to five job, that i'd go crazy. But in reality, you don't have the time to go crazy. Halfway through the adjustment phase you get sucked in. You get stuck in this routine. Before you know it, you're braincells are dying from boredom but you've become too dependent on a regular paycheck to even try to break it off.

I don't want to get renewed, but with the looks of things...i'm going to be out of a job by June or July. Maximum of September. I should have earned enough money by then. I have insurance bills and car repairs, gas, net cards, phoneline and all my other stuff. I should earn enough money to at least pay for those in a year.

The thought of losing money scares me, more so since my former boss--may she stay my former boss--and my former best friend will be sending out her spies onto the world just to see how i'm going to do without their help!

Not to mention the bills and damages. I really do need to scrape up a writing job or two just to keep my head afloat. And I really do not want to do it with a steady job.

One thing is for sure, no school for me yet. I don't want to go back.

I used to dread coming to school.

High School was alright. Saint Mary's was so sheltered and everything was so structured and secure that you pretty much knew where you were going to go. The challenge of it all was how to rebel by the rules, but the system failsafe was so secure that there was minimal threat of ever really failing.

UST was different. I would sit there, wondering if all these people knew that I was not as smart as they all thought I was. That I never opened my books not because I was making a statement by not studying but simply because I didn't know how.

I didn't have any study habits. I would show up for tests without knowing the material. I would come in, listen to the teachers, and be completely frustrated because I wasn't hearing any of what i've come to learn.

And to think that it was such a privilage to sit there and just absorb. To be given money for school just so I could learn.

The only thing that UST taught me that served me well in the outside world was finding out that I was a really fuck-assed bad student. I was lazy, unfocused, smart-allecky, and bordering on belligerent.

But the truth wass I didn't want to be there. I was disappointed with the system. In the four years i've stayed there, I never once stumbled onto a topic that I had come in intending to learn.

It was as if i've been let down by the whole idea of organized learning, and I somehow cannot get over that.

I guess I'll just have to see what next year brings. I still have six months worth of pay checks coming in, hopefully i'll find some side job that will give me a hand up in saving.

Maybe i'll go back to school, maybe i'll persue writing full-time. Who knows what will happen.

Spent all of Saturday shopping with Xarra at the mall and at the Circle tiangge.

We were getting pretty claustrophic in the mall. Getting there on a Saturday afternoon was bad enough, attempting to shop a few days before christmas was just bloody hell worse.

I hate crowds and I hate the mall. I bought a pair of soft nude mary jane's that ended up being my high point at the mall. They were really cheap and will hopefully last long. I don't normally pick up my footwear in the department store sale rack, but this one looked sturdy enough.

We were at the mall a total of three hours before we both got headaches and just decided to head off to City Hall to do the rest of Xarra's christmas shopping.

I think that was where most of the adventure was.

First we went down City Hall. This meant that we had to cross the six lane traffic of the Eleptical Road. Xarra kept insisting that we were on a pedestrian lane, but that doesn't really help when you are facing 60mph of non-stop traffic.

But we got across and felt like kissing the ground. I felt like someone should have tajen a video of us just getting across the surge of fast traffic. It is unbelievable.

Anyway, it took me quite a while to realize that we were in Quezon Memorial Circle. The last time i'd been there I was around eleven. It was around christmas time too and I left sullen and miserable because the stall that sold the Nike trainers that I wanted was no longer there. I ended up buying a pair of roller blades at the mall (which turned out to be a lot more fun)

Looking around, I felt as if i'd just dropped out of a wormhole and this was an alternate dimension. It's been a long time since i've been to a park and all the "park" activity was getting to me. I wanted to just head off to the shops but nostalgia got the best of me so I convinced Xarra to stop for a photo op.

I spent a couple of shots on us and on the Quezon City Monument before stealing a couple of shots of a bunch of people playing parlor games. I think it was their team building seminar. It's always amusing to watch grown-ups make an ass out of themselves in parlor games.

Then it was off to the shops, then eating out at Tropical Hut.

That was another high.

Even though we'd eaten at Thai in A Box (which should really be Thai in a Block, with those block shaped dishes) my energy levels were already down from having to contend with the mall crowd. Besides, Tropical was my grandfathers favorite burger place, and eating there makes me feel closer to him somehow.

I treated Xarra out to dinner and had even more discussions about the rest of our lives. She's burned out at Smart. Having done here job (even though it was only a month) I personally know what a crappy day CSR's can have.

We didn't dwell on the topic though. We spent more time kidding around and catching up on each others lives between bites. She got spaghetti and rootbeer while I had a Rancher Ranchero burger and turned traitor for a while by getting a Pepsi Twist.

The burger itself sucked--burger buns, a pickle, a lettuce leaf, a sliver of mayo and a patty--but the patty was juicy and great. Now i'm thinking that I should come back to a Tropical branch just to get another taste of their burgers. I used to eat at Tropical with my grandparents as a kid, but just like everything that you've done a thousand times, the burgers had lost it's appeal and was just plain boring.

I kept thinking about my grandfather all throughout the meal, how he would have loved this. All the places that he's eaten, but he still loves the Tropical Hut cheeseburger the most.

I miss him.

In response to my cousins “wish list”, I am firing off a wish list of my own.

My cousin has two categories: realistic and unrealistic.

I just have one category, the flying-f amazing wish list, since even though such a wish list exists, my friends are a) too broke to give them too me, b) my relatives keep giving me their craft projects, c) my mom keeps giving me underwear (in truth, you can never have enough…oh shit, I am turning into my mother!!!)

Or d) the achievement of said wish is actually all up to me.


Kris’ Flying-f amazing wish list:

A copy of Dancing Barefoot by Wil Wheaton. Currently out of print but will soon be re-released through O’Reilly Press

A Lomo camera. I have no idea which one. Surprise me.

A clunky Aurora calculator. My scientific calculator has died on me, with no chance of resuscitation. Since I just need to compute bills a chunky Aurora will do and I don’t have the time or extra money to buy one.

Direction. If only God would send me an envelope detailing exactly what it is that I need to do, I would be eternally grateful following it down to the last letter.

Lose that little belly gut. Okay, so people still don’t see it. I don’t care. I see it and I feel it and it makes me damn uncomfortable.

See Enid in Baltimore. I really, really miss that gal.

Ticket and accommodations to next years Starfleet Academy international convention. I’m hoping that I can at least see one or two USS Matrix shipmates.

The upcoming Just A Geek by Wil Wheaton, also to be released by O’Reilly. I’m a big fan, okay?

New paint and interior for Harry. The red is too cherry and the black leather interior is just too dark.

A great, kick ass, writing job.

More time to myself.

Damian Lewis

Another 128kb XD card.

World peace.

That’s about it…for now. I still haven’t thought of anything that I dying to have. My camera has me blinded from all else at the moment. Give me a couple more hours and I should wrack up a kickass wishlist.

After a surge of e-mails (all of them coming in when I was otherwise busy and not at my desk) I am experiencing a drought.

My Voyager sim group has half the cast sleeping, Chakotay and Janeway flirting/gropping in short-wave, while everyone else is thinking of something to say.

Even my EnterpriseAndBeyond yahoogroup, who is very, very, active, is very quiet. The only active yahoogroup (which I opted not to have e-mails) the Damian Lewis fan club, is just about jumping out of their hides talking about his latest play.

I imagine that I would be close to fainting if I were to meet him in person and get a somewhat sloppy kiss since he is such a sweet guy. If it were me, i'd swab my cheek and keep a sample of his DNA. Some of the "bunnies" traveled all the way to London from the US just to see him.

I can understand the fanaticism since i'm a bit of a Damo-girl myself, and I would be one of the first people to plunk down some money just to go to a Trek convention.

Enid is hoping that I come into some money and be able to make it to Starfleet Academy's annual convention next year. It's in Virginia, in a city that's quite near Maryland. It's only two hours away and she's hoping that I can take a vacation and attend the convention at the same time.

We just had this talk last Saturday. I was really surprised that she called me up, since it was 2AM eastern and she had the morning shift! Those overseas call phonecards don't come cheap too, so I was really touched. We haven't been e-mailing as much lately, at least not like before where we'd exchange responses in a day! We've been really busy with work and the rest of our life (i.e. things that we do when we are not at work) so it's all understandable.

Time seems to have sped up today. I feel like I just sat down even thought it's already 11. It's free lunches today courstesy of the December celebrants. I got three gifts this morning (one of which is from the big boss herself) and I also had a nice ride to work. The cab driver was playing an Eagle's tape so it woke me up. The driver and I were kind of whisper-singing to "Take it Easy" while stuck in Commonwealth flyover traffic. It was amusing.

Anyway, today is the office raffle. They have a microwave over, a DVD player, and some other thing being raffled. I don't have much luck with these things so even though I want to go home with a new DVD player, I think i'm just going to hope that the pics I take will come out well.

The pictures that I took last night on the bus didn't come out well, but the BW shots that I took of the accounting staff and some more my mirror project shots came out nicely. It was cool. Now i'm forever looking for a reflective surface. I saw the other people's Lomo shots now I really want one. It's got this grainy look to it, but in a smokey-lounge-trip kind of way.

I took a picture of myself from a bottle of coke in BW and I am thinking of sending that in. It seems too sharp and polished to even be considered as one of those photojournalistic photos but it came out better than I expected.

Oh well. The raffle is about to start.

I just found my cousins blog.

.......

Part of me wants to keep on reading...yet there's another part of me that feels as if i've stolen her diary from underneath her bed and is now dancing around naked with her thoughts.

We haven't really talked, like really talked, in close to two years, so I have no idea what's happening with her. That would make her nineteen.

Her recent writings were rather insightful, kind of a more emotional ships log. It was detailed as hell but this time with feeling.

I remember when we went to Germany and she kept a journal. I ended up junking mine after ten or so entries (long story) so she was sort of like the group scribe for that particular script.

She wrote all the days events. Where we ate, what we ate, how it made her feel, how much they cost, who sold it, what did they look like, what did the food look like, the feel of the place, who we were with, what they said...and reactions to the conversation and b;ah, blah, blah.

This is a more upgraded version than the one she did when she was ten, but you can still see a hint of it there.

I guess I fel your name (first or first and last - no nicknames or noms de plumes - really!), URL if applicable, date (month & year), location (where you took the picture - city, country, etc.), title and description. Tell us a story: Why you were there, who you were with, or how you were feeling. A name and valid email address are the only required fields.

Mostly, I feel weird because i'm learning more about her by reading her blogs than I do by actually talking to her.

I have no idea what's happening in her life right now. I think the transition was made when she had a boyfriend and I...well, I just had problems. I don't think I was up to dealing with anyone back then.

It used to be that we saw each other everyday and even though we didn't know everything about each others lives, at least we knew something.

There are days when I tell myself that nothing has changed, but it's pretty obvious that nothing is the same.

The weird thing is, I made up with her sister.

The first time she sent me a Yahoo message, I literally did a double take. At the end of our two hour talk, I thanked her for her time and was on the verge of crying.

She didn't understand, but having dropped two of my best friends this year, gaining a cousin that I once thought was an enemy was just overwhelming.

The conversation were in some parts strained (at least, as strained as you could get in Yahoo Chat) but the important part was that we talked.

For years, she was one of the very few people I could truly say I hated.

And yet it here we are, talking. We are getting there.

With all the changes in my life this year, I can't imagine what it'll be like next year.

Maybe it will be like your birthday, where you wake up and feel exactly like you did yesterday, only a year younger.

But then, if you take into account what happened during my birthday this year, you can see that it's possible for you to drop into a rabbit hole on your birthday and emerge on the other side as a whole new being.

Damn, I hope I have better luck next year.

Tooling around with my digicam. I've started a photographic draft of the project that I want to do. The photos are stored in Yahoo Photos, where they do not allow ?!,' or any such symbols. Their code is dumb.

To take my mind of some of the monotony--since I am still surfing for the same thing--I am reading up on inequalities in world trade. Specifically, "IS OXFAM RIGHT TO INSIST THAT INCREASED ACCESS TO NORTHERN MARKETS IS A SOLUTION TO THE THIRD WORLD'S PROBLEMS?"

Oxfam is an NGO that aims to improve human development. They are based in the UK and have a very interesting website. I'm about to read the nay-sayer part. It's been a long time since I've read a case and I must say that it is invigorating! You may take a person out of a debate, but you can never take a debater out of a person.

This should tie in very well with my MDG requirement for the UN-Arlac Portal.

The debaters are Colin Hines and Kevin Watkins, the former is an author and a Greenpeace economist while the latter is a Senior Policy Advisor for Oxfam.

It's rather short, since it's all written down and reads like an essay. It's not taking sides, but is short and compact enough to provide you with the necessary arguments.

Damn, I miss this.

Anyway, I found out that Kellie Waymire--Lanna from ST: Voyager's Muse ep and Lt. Liz Cutler in St: Enterprise--died of an enlarged heart, possibly caused by her Mitral Valve Prolapse. She was diagnosed as a teenager, but her condition unknowingly got worse as she got older.

My paranoia of course, forced me to read up on MVP again and this time pay closer attention to the details surrounding my condition. I found out that not only do I suffer from MVP, but also MVP Syndrome, which is not a heart condition but one of the nervous system.

I read through the posts and was just amazed at the amount of people who were suffering through the same thing I was.

I've had days where I have had an attack and I literally thought I was going to die. In fact, the retching episode I had at Clarke wasn't a hangover, but a reaction to stress, sleep deprivation, and the alcohol. MVPs don't handle alchohol very well.
There have been instances where I thought I was going to have a heart attack, but I've just learned that MVP doesn't cause MCIs. A good thing, since I do not need the additional stress that it presents.

So now I have to go back to my original diet. I've been meaning to, but this just gives me the necessary incentive.

I'm seeing my cardiologist again and maybe, just maybe, getting another 2D echo. I don't have 4k to spare, what with camera payments and insurance polices to pay.

Good grief, I need a writing job.

Finally back from the christmas party.

I will eat my words and say that I actually had a pretty good time at the party. Laarni made a pretty good party mix, despite other people not being appreciative of some of the selections. Did I mention that they were all old people?

I spent the first night shopping around, the second jumping all over the place for the x-mas party, and the wee hours of the morning with my head in the toilet bowl trying very hard to throw up the 3/4 can of San Mig Light that I drank the night before.

Was it a hangover? I don't know. If it was then i'm going to ignore it and blame it on my still numb left foot.

I am listening to the Isley Brothers. Mark burned me a chunk of his collection and working on leeching his hard drive. I haven't heard of the Isley Brothers before, but I trust Mark's musical judgement so I just gave him a bunch of CD and just burn! burn! burn!

This is the first CD. He's got some Hendrix and a bunch of others thrown in, some I know, some I don't. It should be an interesting two hours.

Clarke was interesting. I spent all of my per diem on chocolates, as per my mama's orders. I brought my nieces a cool bamboo flute and a mock bow and arrow for myself (which I left at the office). I also bought a plastic bag of sweet potatoes from an aeta kid for twenty bucks because it was the only way she made money. Not a smart shopper price, I know, but I am a sucker for things like those. I would have bought all the bows and arrows and flutes even if it only got them off selling for a few days. These people deserve a break, and it doesn't look as if they'd had one in a long time.

Anyway, I heard my niece Patti playing the flute I got her all the way from my aunt's house across the street. The people there should go nuts as soon as her sister Bianca joins here. They are musically inclined so the torture of the off-key renditions of a bamboo flute novice should be gone soon.

After I got home I ran to the mall and bought the digital camera I have been coveting. It's an Olympus Camedia 740. I got home, took a few pics, then passed out from exhaustion.

Sally and I spent the past two nights at Clarke talking about each others lives. The two of us talked until the wee hours of the morning. She has an equally--if not more--"exciting life" than me.

I say exciting in the sense that we both have great moments, and sucky moments, no in-betweens. She describes it as a "green light-red light" phenomena. We have a stop and a go, just no slowing down.

It was cathartic to finally share with someone who has an idea what it's like to be in a turbo broiler of a life and somehow not be a celebrity (who at least gets compensated through money) It's hard for those who don't go through the same thing to understand.

I always hated it when people made this comment that I had no problems, or thought that I somehow generated all this hoopla to get attention.

First off, I do not need that kind of attention nor the problems that come with it.

But even with the lows, I cannot deny the definite highs that come with it. It is during those days that I can just take in a breathe and say "I am truly blessed".

Even if our situations are different, Sally knows what it's like to go through bipolar conditions. Just knowing that someone out there has gotten this far without breaking down gives me hope.

I just found out that I took a picture of myself without my head. With my digital camera. It's a bad omen for most people. I know it's supposed to be idiot proof, but the Olympus I got is something close to a professional camera and I am still learning how to work it.

I'm going to be poor for a couple more months, along with insurance money and this digital video camera that I want to buy...hoo boy. I suppose I really do need to make some extra money if I want to put something aside.

I barely have a thousand dollars in my savings account, and even that is going to go down to barely five hundred once I make the first payment on my camera.

Mark asked me what I wanted to do with the camera, since it was just too fuck assed expensive for something to just tool around around with, and I told him that I was going to use it for this travel blog that I had been planning for such a long time.

Christine and I were supposed to make this church project, but she really didn't seem to be interested when we were planning it. I don't feel comfortable with doing the Church project myself. I feel like i'm ripping of Christine, even if it is both our ideas. Maybe i'll do it eventually, I don't know.

In the meantime, I am trying to learn working my camera. It seems to work like a regular SLR camera, which is great since I have always wanted one. Paid an arm and a leg, but I think it's worth it.

I haven't had much time to study it, since i've been lazy, but I really should get my ass off and running since my hand shakes which in turn compromises the pics. The specs won't cover for photographer ineptitude so I'll have to read the manual tomorrow and just work it! work it! work it!

My grammar is suffering, my tone is unfocused, and I use far too many swear words.

I hate to say this, but I feel like my writing has been reduced to the level of Sponge Bob Square Pants.

Before I get stoned to death by Sponge Bob fans for even suggesting that I am just as good as their fav TV show, let me just say that my mind does not support the Sponge Bob mainframe. I am more of a Dilbert/Daria kind of Gal, and with the way things are...I feel my mind has been reduced to a more intelligent version of Beavis and Butthead.

I am ticked off by this.

...

Today is D-day for Clarke.

The regional staff is here and I just finished wrapping a gazillion presents...Okay, maybe something around 40. My punishment for not dancing, which is fine with me. Like I said, I would rather gogo dance on top of a table...hell, i'd rather gogo dance with a pole. Otso-otso has got to be the most bulgar dance i've ever seen.

My left foot is numb and I have the beginnings of a major headache. This isn't psychosomatic. What is psychosomatic is the sleepy feeling I am getting from my left arm. Not good.

I'm not getting much joy out of this day. But then again, I haven't had much cause for joys in this office lately.

I had dinner with Mark yesterday and discussed the state of our yet-to-be careers over calamari spag and steaming sausage calzone. He was encouraging me to write, just write.

Yesterday, as I was reading through Damian Lewis' "They mentioned the knicker box" interview, he said something that really struck me.

"If you're ambitious to do well, it's what you strive for: a certain level of recognition. I don't mean in the supermarket, but within your profession."

I really admire him for saying that.

He said once that he just wanted to be an actor and never thought of failure to be an option. It's a bullheaded way to see things, but to do what you want I think you have to be somewhat tunnel visioned.

I remember being like that with debate once. I wanted to win, but most of all I wanted to be good. To be looked upon as a veritable and worthy competition. I don't think I ever saw anythng beyond that goal, everything else seemed to vanish and all I wanted was to have this prize.

I want to have that again. That do-or-die sense of determinationf or something that your really passionate about. I don't think i've found it yet.

I used to think that profiling was it, but even at my most "obsessive" I never really thought it was enough, though it may have been different for the people on the other side of the fence.

I was surprised that a lot of people were disappointed that I didn't persue forensic psychology. The days I spent in the library, copying the formula for several forensic chemicals, skipping classes to read up on the latest. Spending my vacations doing more research...I guess they were amazed that I was willing to invest so much.

But it obviously wasn't enough because i'm still here, dazed and confused and evidently without direction.

At the meantime though, writing seems to be the light at the end of my current tunnel. I'm willing to work for this, to bleed for this.

Cross your fingers. Cross your fingers.

Last work day of the week.

I still haven't packed for Clark. I'm still thinking of what clothes to wear and tonights dance practice should determine that.

I brought "Model Behavior" with me to work so I can study Jay McInerney's rhythm. My writing has suffered since I went to work. Not enough books and too much fanfiction. My method has become so schizophrenic that I wonder if i'm ever going to achieve a writing identity. I've been changing writing tones like I change accents, and while that's flexible it can be very confusing to a beginner.

Imagine that. Twelve long years and I am still a beginner.

My writing has become unfocused, with swear words taking the place of adjectives...even though it can be construed as an adjective. I'll have to check on that.

At least my horizons have broadened somewhat, subject wise. I remember the time when I wrote nothing but cheesy Sweet Dream-ish stories and my never ending sci-fi novel. A nicely written drabble that was hecka long with no real plot nor story. I think I was just liking the way I wrote at that time, kind of like trying a new debating manner and loving the way you now spoke.

Argh!

Even i'm confused in the switching tones in my head.

When I write, I have this voice talking inside my head and I just jot down what it narrates. Unfortunately the voice changes with my moods, and there's always a huge difference. Accent-wise, attitude wise. It's a different person talking, acting, breathing, and singing. They have their own set of quirks and they are all chomping at the bit.

Oh God my eyes are glossing over.

A day of net surfing.

I will be surfing for environmental training organizations. Or just to be specific: organizations that provide trainings on waste reduction, recycling, and composting.

I just had my hair done and I now look like that stupid Vaness guy from F4. It embarasses me that I should know his name, but Xarra is into the whole Meteor Garden phenomena and there are just some things you can't help but know. Plus, we were supposed to watch his movie--Star Runner...or something like that.

Xarra just bought new glasses and we needed something to do while we waited for the eye shop to finish her prescriptions. I'd been bugging her to watch a movie but eventually had to shut up when I ran out of money at the end of the day, so she offered to pay. And since she was footing the bill I was going to have to go with her movie selections.

Unfortunately--or fortunately--the Star Runner wasn't showing anymore and we had to settle for Intolerable Cruelty.

We had a blast watching it, since the characters appealed to the bitch in both of us.

Anyway, my place is filled with regional consultants and it feels weird to have other people in my working space. I'm used to having this area all to myself, but now I have to put up with PhDs yakking about salaries and technical stuff. They are scientists and capitalists, and we all know that both never shut up.

Everyone is all chatty and reared up to go to Clark. It's like being stuck in a car that kid who keeps asking if we're there yet, only this time there are close to 30 people and they are all adults. The only thing i'm looking forward to is the chance to look at cheaper electronics and the three hour car ride since I need to catch up on my sleep.

Call me a Scrooge but I really do lack faith in these people's capabilities to throw a kickass party.

Last years x-mas party had lousy catering and even lousier music. After a brief interlude of "swing", we proceeded to play out the whole set of Chorus Girl Tunes. There's only so much 80's bubblegum shit that I can take.

The highlight of the evening was me dancing with Jerry Bisson, head honcho of the environmental department at USAID, ie. THE PEOPLE WHO GIVE MONEY. I had a great time using the swing steps that I'd recently learned and he was an excellent lead.

For filler, I sent borg themed messages to my dad and me made a cool show of replying in trek manner.

To digress...My dad is a semi trek fan. He loves the show but you'll never catch him with a bunch of collectible cards. And he won't go through the trouble of watching certain eps over and over again, nor will he harass anyone to download the episodes because she doesn't have broadband connection and she can't afford the DVD's.

In any case, my dad rescued me last year when I told him that I was going to get drunk. I made lame "I am borg" pun and said I was on my fourth glass of wine.

Alcohol and I do not agree. My body seems to favor a select number of libations. I haven't found out which ones will leave me passed out after just one drink. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why I can consume a sizable of bottle of gin with nothing so much as a mild buzz while a half glass of white wine has me crawling towards my bed.

I was already a little dull and just on my second glass when I danced with Jerry Bisson--head honcho of USAIDs Environmental Division (i.e. the guy who's ass we have to kiss). Thank God I didn't have to do anything but those stupid 80's dance moves after my fourth otherwise I would have been a blubbering idiot.

....

Latest development: I have just found out that I have to dance "otso-otso" and I can't away from it.

Fucking shitass sonfabitch! Ghaycha!

I am too bored to come up with any creative swear words. But what the hey, I don't swear very well anyway.

I am just fucking pissed that I have to dance an incredibly vulgar dance just to be sociable. What the fuck did I do today to deserve this.

(To commemorate the moment, I am playing "Save Me" by Aimee Mann)

My mind is still catching up to the fact that I am about to do something that's humilliating and there is nothing I can do about it. It's being asked which drink i'd rather have: cyanide or arsenic. You know your going to die a horrible death, why bother being poetic about it. Might as well down the damn thing and get it over with.

Scrooge my ass. I don't care if it's their Bar Mitzvah. I will be a total bitch in doing this.

I wish that they'd at least understand why I didn't want to do any of these dances. It's just...disgusting. Vulgar. Worse than all the stupid dances that I've ever seen.

I would rather do GO GO dancing.

Ugh, now the council old are practicing the cha-cha on the space behind me.

SHUT UP!!!!

Stuck at the office waiting for my friend Sally to finish with the x-mas party presentation practice.

Will not say anything...

The advert on my current page is advertising this lip plimper and other lip stuff because I mentioned Angelina Jolie. The lip gunk is like 14 dollars...well, $13.33 each if you get two just to snag the covenient applicator. (isn't it suppose to come with, coz how else are you going to put the damn thing on???)

It has occured to me that it costs just as much as the set of Voyager collectible cards that I want to get but won't since i'm so poor. I mean, they are cards for crying out loud. I won't need them. I'll die and it will be junk to my kids and my husband...or they'll end up burying it with me coz they love me so much...then it will be compost...

Oh hell. I really want to buy it because it features log entries, and one of them has Tom Paris' log entry on Blood Fever. There have been a gazillion fanfics on Blood Fever, but I would love to know what Tom thought in canon.

If you are on the other side of the fence, you might think that Trek fans are all losers. I think Wil Wheaton was the only actor that was a die hard trekkie/trekker and the fans treated him badly. He should have just done a con in the Philippines where nearly all the girls ages 8 and up watched trek because they loved him...

Okay, maybe not all. You had the population that included me: the I love wil and I am growing to love sci-fi girls.

Anyway, I would love to be on an episode of Trek. Enid says that part of what drives me is that i'd look hot in the uniform because it fits me, but I really would just love to be on that kind of show.

On the set you kind of get disillusioned because you see all the props and the shuttles are these unfinished pieces of plywood. But I'd love to be on one show and see myself in another century. I would have loved to be in the 24th century, but I guess that's not going to happen anymore with DS9 and Voyager out and TNG not going for any more movies.

I really like the new grey shouldered uniforms. I think it's better than the ones from DS9 and Voy, but just about level with the ones that came out on TNG.

Oh well, who knows. I might just get lucky and find myself on a Trek set.

I still remember the paper that I wrote about space exploration for my senior year research paper in high school. It was lame, and I was lazy doing the research, but it was really waxing on the prose. Which is really sad since it is a technical paper.

I remember that I wrote it like how Mulder or Scully would write a field report. Years later, when I read it again, I found that I really did sound like I was dictating an X-files field report! My teacher was proud of the work and at the same time disappointed since it wasn't what she was asking for.

I wish I could just write. Go exploring and writing about my experiences.

If only money weren't an issue. If only people weren't an issue. If only a habitable place to live and food weren't an issue.

Fuck, if only there weren't a lot of other issues that I was really concerned with!

Maybe someday i'll have the courage to do what I want and say fuck it with the issues. I'll be brave enough to skip meals and live in a cardboard box and just write.

But I don't think that day will ever come. So i'll just pray for courage and grace that I'll be able to do what it is I want to do and live comfortably at the same time...which is what EVERYONE is praying for anyway.

Oh well, i'm still tossing in my AMEN.

Stuck at the office waiting for my friend Sally to finish with the x-mas party presentation practice.

Will not say anything...

The advert on my current page is advertising this lip plimper and other lip stuff because I mentioned Angelina Jolie. The lip gunk is like 14 dollars...well, $13.33 each if you get two just to snag the free applicator...or some other product.

It has occured to me that it costs just as much as that Voyager collectible cards that I want to get but won't since i'm so poor. I mean, they are cards for crying out loud. I won't need them. I'll die and it will be junk to my kids and my husband...or they'll end up burying it with me coz they love me so much...then it will be compost...

Oh hell. I really want to buy it because it features log entries, and one of them has Tom Paris' log entry on Blood Fever. There have been a gazillion fanfics on Blood Fever, but I would love to know what Tom thought in canon.

If you are on the other side of the fence, you might think that Trek fans are all losers. I think Wil Wheaton was the only real fan of trek and the fans treated him badly. He should have just done a con in the Philippines where nearly all the girls ages 8 and up watched trek because they loved him...

Okay, maybe not all. You had the population that included me: the I love wil and I am growing to love sci-fi girls.

Anyway, I would love to be on an episode of Trek. Enid says that part of what drives me is that i'd look hot in the uniform because it fits me, but I really would just love to be on that kind of show.

On the set you kind of get disillusioned because you see all the props and the shuttles are these unfinished pieces of plywood. But I'd love to be on one show and see myself in another century. I would have loved to be in the 24th century, but I guess that's not going to happen anymore with DS9 and Voyager out and TNG not going for any more movies.

I really like the new grey shouldered uniforms. I think it's better than the ones from DS9 and Voy, but just about level with the ones that came out on TNG.

Oh well, who knows. I might just get lucky and find myself on a Trek set.

I still remember the paper that I wrote about space exploration for my senior year research paper in high school. It was lame, and I was lazy doing the research, but it was really waxing on the prose. Which is really sad since it is a technical paper.

I remember that I wrote it like how Mulder or Scully would write a field report. Years later, when I read it again, I found that I really did sound like I was dictating an X-files field report! My teacher was proud of the work and at the same time disappointed since it wasn't what she was asking for.

I wish I could just write. Go exploring and writing about my experiences.

If only money weren't an issue. If only people weren't an issue. If only a habitable place to live and food weren't an issue.

Fuck, if only there weren't a lot of other issues that I was really concerned with!

Maybe someday i'll have the courage to do what I want and say fuck it with the issues. I'll be brave enough to skip meals and live in a cardboard box and just write.

But I don't think that day will ever come. So i'll just pray for courage and grace that I'll be able to do what it is I want to do and live comfortably at the same time...which is what EVERYONE is praying for anyway.

Oh well, i'm still tossing in my AMEN.

Just got back from the meeting from purgatory.

I learned a lot from the DOH expert. I was impressed that she came all the way here herself. It was embarassing as hell that the only people she had to meet was us, but I didn't have any qualms about it at all. She seemed a bit elitist, but she was cool in my book. I think it's because I'm used to these kinds of people.

The only thing I really am sorry about is the fact that we served crappy food.

The shabby choc chips and the juice boxes worked the last time, but it really isn't a good idea to feed it to the bigwigs. Note to self: next time serve muffins. It should tide over quite nicely. Or cakes.

Anyway, the rest of the world is off practicing for the upcoming x-mas party.

And since I am still being considered as a pariah by the tribal olds--not elders, just old I am down here continuing my research for the ISWM bluebook.

The truth is, I really couldn't care less. It's not that I am sourgraping, I just don't like the fucking dance that they would have assigned me. (or have thought of assigning me)

I don't even know "spaghetti" and there is no way in hell that I will get up there and do "otso-otso".

Maybe it's a bit of a killjoy, but I think some dances have to stop at some point. If I don't allow my niece to dance otso-otso, what would it say if I did? It's a disgusting dance and I will not take part in any of it.

If they want me to swing then I will. It's a simple step. But I will not take part in any of those crappy dances that they insist the kids on doing since they lack the flexibility to fucking do it themselves. One word for you people: YOGA. Or better yet: DIET.

Or here is a sentence: Better and healthier living so you can fucking get off my back and get better entertainment rather than GOSSIP.

Like I said, work would have been bliss if only I didn't have to work with other people. And the office ancients have set-up a gestapo enough to knock the socks out of any reasonable bitch.

Good thing I am not a reasonable bitch.

Oh hey, Xarra just sent me this text: "The virtue of friendship isn't finding the perfect friend, but by loving the imperfect friend perfectly. True friendship doesn't have a happy ending, it simply doesn't end..."

Oh-kay...is this the part where I cry?

Things have been somewhat strained since our aborted Nov. 11 vacation. The whole issue with Christine screwed things up, but considering things...we've adjusted quite nicely to the lack of Christine's presence in our lives. It isn't easy, but considering how things turned out between me and Christine...we did an admirable job of handling the situation.

...

Truth is, despite her reduced presence, Christine is still my friend. It's more like...her job description has just changed.

Mark once asked me if I'd consider "being friends again" with Christine. I told him that at this point, it would be too presumptuous of me to ever turn away a friend, but things would never be as they were before. Things have changed too much for us to be like "sisters".

Having said this, he asked me why the hell was I even considering Christine as my friend again if I didn't trust her.

...

The reality is...I don't know. I have this small pocket of hatred in my heart that will take a long time to disappear. It's true that the people you love the most are the ones most capable of hurting you.

I was hurt by this. I still hurt. The hurt makes me not care about what happens to this person who I cared for. That thought alone is disturbing.

I don't know how to deal with this kind of insensitivity. But I am learning everyday how to live my new life, because it truly is a new life.

Yesh, maybe next year will be better.

At last, TGIF!

My brain cells have been dying by the million from doing NOTHING all week.

Today is the day of the Solid Waste Bluebook meeting, and I have that to occupy me all afternoon. Next week we only get two days of work because of the Christmas Party. The plus side of that is I don't have to spend for anything for the next three days.

The down side and is that we'll be in Clark and my mom wants me to shop for stuff . I have no idea what I should buy, but i'm thinking of just picking up my digicam there since I will be charging it.

I got a reply from my old classmate from high school Jenniffer "Macaroni" Samson. She moved to the states on our senior year and she has almost no idea on whatever happened before senior year. She doesn't even remember how she got the nickname.

I thought that was really sad.

She's from Chicago but she moved to San Diego for Grad School. My old classmates who know her said that she's changed, but that's to be expected since she was 15 when I last saw her.

Anyway, I will be getting my hair done tomorrow. It's a sure thing. Then for the afternoon I will get my picture taken with Xarra since we've been waiting to do that for the longest time, then it's back home to rest before I take Harry out for a drive with the boys on Sunday.

What a weekend.

Heh. I just stumbled into another Torres/Seven fanfic on fanfiction.net.

WTF is up with these people? If they are gonna do female VOY slash, then they might as well do a Janeway/Seven pairing since this T/S thing is not going to work. HELLO. There is no common factor between the two except that they both have the patience of a short fused bomb and they are totally hot.

Anyway, that's just about the only thing i've been doing this morning. Go through my Yahoo Groups, skim through my usual websites, then update the blog. Oh, and I asked the accounting department to withdraw for me since there is no way that I will be doing the waiting game this Friday.

I can't wait to begin the weekend. It's a bit too packed for my tastes, since I prefer just bumming around at home, but I haven't been out for a long time and I think I should have some sort of activity that should drag me out of the house.

Trying to do busywork for a whole week has kept me from having any panic attacks regarding my future, though Charisse had a number of scares this week.

I am still trying to figure out what I'll do for the rest of the morning. Its just 9:30 am.

Oh hey, Robbie McNeill's site has just been updated. He lost weight, hear! hear!

I so love that guy. He seems like such the family man, and he's incredibly cute. Well, when he was young. Now he looks more like a restrained biker, which he is in a way since he and his wife both ride Harley's. Anyway, he gave away one of the fans who decided to have their wedding on a Slanted Fedora convention. Slanted provided the venue.

I wonder if this was some sort of ploy by Slanted, since they are in trouble for bouncing checks.

On the subject of celebrity...

I just saw that Elizabeth Oropesa's latest movie with Alessandra de Rossi is going to be realeased by Columbia Tristar. It has a Flipino cast and crew, from the same director of Munting Tinig.

To be honest, Munting Tinig (Small Voices) was a bit schmaltzy. The underdog-wins theme is smarmy, and the NPA slant is just so predictable. Couldn't they come up with another conflict?

Homecoming, though with it's big-name backing, is running through the same sob-story thread with a larger than life conflict: the SARS virus. Filipino's don't do disgusting sci-fi outbreak films, so it's disgusting drama outbreak film.

But hey, who knows. The movie hasn't come out and I could be wrong. Columbia hasn't done much with the promotion of the film, but this could be one of those sleeper hits.

Kahless, I hope so.

Now here's a weird occurence.

The big boss just came by to ask how I was, seeing that I was down with the german measles.

She made this sarcastic remark that was meant to be a joke that I totally didn't get. It was like Laurel and Hardy, only with words. It was really weird.

I babbled, and she made some funny remarks, and I laughed. I made a couple more jokes that hit the mark until things got kind of dragging and we just kind of went "okay" and got back to our own business.

It felt like an awkward date.

Anyway, just came from the mall to buy stuff for the meeting tomorrow, then went to DENR just to confirm some things.

That killed off about 2 hours. It is now 3:30 and I am back to doing nothing. I will be calling a bunch of others again, maybe around 4, when they should all be back from their meeting.

I spent an hour and 200 bucks on Starbucks, on my charge card, just killing off time. But we will be getting 2k next week, so it kind of evens things out. And with me having been sick and spending nothing for the whole week last week, it really doesn't bother me.

I got my paycheck too, but I have to withdraw through the bank. Damn.

But at least I can go back to work next week and be able to buy the darn digicam. I will be extensively poor for a relatively long time, but heck, who the fuck cares at the moment.

I have a sketchy view of the supposed future that I am saving for. The only thing I know is that I should have money for when I get to whichever point of my life, so that I won't be leeching on my parents for when I kick this job and just go around writing.

Heck, I might even take Charisse with me, since her life is pretty much shard colored glasses by her feet right now. We people with uncertainty ahead of our dibilitatingly exciting lives should stick together.

I finally figured out why yesterday's post wouldn't come out.

When I changed the damn thing to read my timezone, it thought that I was saving it to be released tomorrow, on the right time and day. DUh, WTF is the option for then?

Anyway, I'm all set to do another day of doing nothing, because there really isn't much of anything to do for this week. Everyone has dropped from the face of the earth in order to take advantage of their accumulated vacations, while the remaining people of the planet is doing what I am doing: busywork.

There's a meeting tomorrow about a project that I am helping out on, which is good since it's something to do. But other than that I am back to being an admin assist since Jean is going out and there is no one at admin and she asked me nicely for this favor. So that is a semi-something to do.

I am currently spreading my "lookalike obssession" on the Damian Lewis yahoogroup. I just found out that Alessandro Nivola attended Phillips Exeter Academy, which lands him on the "he went to a great school" category.

Anyway, I am reading Wil Wheaton's old blogs from his "Where's My Burrito" days, back in the hay when things weren't happening for him yet and he was just this struggling has been. (Sorry Wil, but for awhile ago it was true.)

So I was reading some old posts and stumbled on this one story where he was wearing a fairview shirt. Of course my eyes just popped and I immediately clicked on the link. Turns out that there is this band named Fairview. I have yet to hear their music, but from the looks of their site it's a bit like grunge/alternative/semi-flogging molly.

I cut most of the morning by collating and stapling some project material that we'll need for tomorrows meeting, then I'm off to calling some people early afternoon. I am really stingy with my assignments since there really isn't anything to do. The accountants--who always have something to do--are flying without their boss and are being stingy with the workload too.

They spent a good part of the morning surfing the net and reading some stuff, and spend the rest of the day surfing some more and doing their own line of busy work.

...

Okay, three minutes on doing ponytail.

I think i'm going to have my hair done tomorrow, have it relaxed and all. People have been making comments about my hair, with it being up on a frizz and I don't care that the ends are flipped. I have weird hair. Some are wavy, few strands are curly, then some are straight, and they're all frizzy.

I have been having an ongoing battle with my hair since I turned 11...or was it ten, I can't remember when the nice shiny baby hair quit on me and just turned into a mass of frizz. So since then, I have been owndering what to do with it to make it the way it was before.

I've given up on it, but since people are paying attention now I have to do something about it.

When it comes to the battle of having other people dictate your looks, one has to be very pedantic in choosing ones fights.

Hair is one thing that I happen to submit to the norms judgement.

I don't let people chose my clothes, my footwear, nor pick on my weight (I refuse to gain any more). I don't let people tell me what to read nor am I concerned with what they think I am reading. And besides what JP and Mark says, I am totally out with what other people think about my appearance whatsoever.

I am decent, I look fine. Not smashing, not gorgeous, but decent. That is fine with work-me, since there's nobody here to impress anyway.

It is 11:00 am, and I have managed to kill a few hours doing little stuff.

Bleh. I'll come back to this later. I am predicting lots more of nothing on the PM later, after i've made phonecalls.

Testing, testing, since my blog seems to be experiencing some technical difficulties.

Stupid me has just figured out how to change the time and the date so it can finally match my timezone.

Congratulations me, and congratulations Wil Wheaton. I am so hoping that I can get a copy of "Dancing Barefoot" for x-mas. Totally devastated when it went out of print on me.

Anyway, I got in early again today.

My dad and I had a great ride going to work, even though he forgot to bring my Affidavit of Loss so he could get it notarized. More delays on getting that new ATM.

He's a lot more anxious and excited to get my driver's license than I am. I think he can't wait until I finally take the wheel and he can just sit on the passenger seat, snoozing while I get us through traffic.

I actually think that it was better for me to have waited this long for me to drive. If i'd taken my car out to school--like, frig-ass 2 hour drive AWAY UST--it would have probably ruined driving for me for life. Getting stuck in traffic, then having to fight for parking.

If you take away the coolness factor of having your own car and the times that I stood on the sidewalk, stranded and wondering whether or not I would ever get home...it just about evens out all the times that I walked alongside classmates who were stuck a meter from the Uni gates (I was a real bitch with that), or who had to come in at o-fucking early just to get parking. It is a well known fact that a majority of the morning worshippers are those who had to come in early just to get good parking space--which happens to be in front of the church.

Parking is probably the next ogre you have to contend with besides traffic and those nuts they let lose on the streets. You can't really park anywhere.

But no matter, I am relishing the fact that I no longer have to rely on other people to get me around (Mark is fucking thrilled) nor do I have to shell out lumps of my hard earned money for cab rides. And I no longer have to worry about crossing the street.

Anyway, Mark will be taking me and Harry--my beloved VW Beetle--out for a practice spin this Sunday. I've just shopped for new batteries and will be giving my car a nice ole rub down. I'm considering getting insurance, but for a 30 year old car? I don't know. It's hard to insure vintage.

That's another thing that I am totally proud of. That Harry hasn't had any sort of modification since he roled out of the German factory way back in the early 70's. One of the last lines to be produces in Germany before they set up production in Brazil. And since they recently broke the VW mold, my Harry is now truly a classic.

My dad had the starter changed to a press-button last year, but I am going to get it back to it's original condition as soon as I can manage it.

Mark wants me to go all out, and I just told him "give me the money". I love my car, but I am not living in it.

So I will be taking it out while I save up money for a new paint job, new tires, new decals, and new interiors. The black leather interiors are so not me. And a new radio. But since I'm just thinking of getting a shock proof discam (and they all are these days) I think i'm going to forego radio. The only radio I ever listen to these days are internet radio. I really do appreciate pre-programmed music, and my tastes have suddenly grown selective ever since I discovered the power of having my own net-radio programming.

No more DJ's for me!

Anyway, this day's artist happens to be Jason Mraz, since he kind of resembles Damian Lewis in a youngish, alternative kind of way.

I was going to try for Flogging Molly since Wil Wheaton fans recommended it, but I had on my funk-on-funk playlist and all the schizo-irish tune just didn't gel. But it seems to blend well with my mood right now.

I had Fiona Apple for the better part of the morning yesterday, then switched to Jamiroquai and Chemical Brothers in the afternoon. The rest of the day went on with Massive Attack and Fat Boy Slim. Our MIS Guy--who's musical palette hasn't heard a drop of such music--was looking at me like I dropped from another dimension.

I think he should get out of his dimension more, since this music has been out for years!

I just spent a whole day doing NOTHING.

Tomorrow, if the day is as peddling slow as this one, i'll spend the most of it reading. I don't think i've ever been busy on anything since I transferred to this position.

In truth, there are days that you don't do anything. I just wish that there would be few of those for me. I don't want to stay here and just...argh.

I wish I could be busy tomorrow. Perhaps I ought to pray for that.

Got some actual work done and am now waiting for the day to end.

I came in at 7:45 today, so technically I can go. But since former boss has her eyes on me, I will behave.

Had another bank run today and finally paid my credit card bills. It took longer than usual because there was a hecka lotta people and it was a different bank. It took me a little over 45 minutes, 15 of which I spent here in th office after I escaped and made some phonecalls and a bathroom break. I had to skip lunch as a result and am not hungry, hungry, hungry.

I really cannot wait to go home. I've got a few things to do when I get back and am hoping to sqeeze a half hours worth of exercise. Maybe walk the dog or something, while I try and regain my exercise routine.

I know it pisses people off that I complain about my "non-existent gut". Well, it pisses me off that they don't understand and that it frig-assed exists. I wouldn't be bitching about it if I didn't feel it.

Some have called me anorexic, but seeing that I eat like a horse and gain very little--well,s ave for the gut--I have to disagree. And the gut is a preventive measure. It's hard enough to lose it when it's small, how much harder will it be for me when my metabolism slows down and I am left with this gut.

And i've made my mind up about the navel ring. Damn the pain, I am getting the damn thing. I have been saying that I will for the past two years so I might as well endure the torture and get it over with. Besides, this one is sanctioned by the mother. It takesa way some bad-ness points, but I am getting this sick twisted pleasure out of knowing that my mother knows and she really won't do anything about it.

She thinks i'm nuts of course, but hey, it is my belly. And it's not like it doesn't come off. I'm just hoping that my aunt will spring me a gold stud, silver really isn't my color.