Day two of busy work week.

I'm currently compiling the small mound of research I have in front of me into something useful in my head. The simplicity of the assignment is complicated by the amount of information that is non-comprensable to the average reasonable person. Or-as the bosses have put it--your average housewife.

Of course, your plain, average housewife is neither average nor plain. They're women with domestic superpowers who stay up long hours and can make stains disappear just by glaring at them (okay, so maybe she had a little help from Mr. Club Soda)

But those are the words. So I will be writing the research that will go to our bit sized how-to-for home-mommies on household wastes.

Funnnnnnnnnnn.

I'm beginning to tire of my Voyager simulation group. None of them are giving me the necessary push I need to improve myself as a writer. The plots are shallow, their writing poorly thought, and they have almost zero knowledge and research on trek. Everybody is having sex, no one has wit...I remember being a teenage writer, but I was never that dumb.

As for the other stuff that's supposedly providing me with a happy, cheery existence...

I am doing thre pre-lim research for my corregidor story. I might just do a blog on that, since it's really a great place to be in.

Seriously? I'm still being lazy with this, but sometime in the future, when my momentum picks up, I might just spring the 700 a week to go to the place for a day and back for research...maybe not every week, but to come often.

I'm seriously thinking of doing some published work on the place. I have diaries and all, but the research is enormous. Plus, the hassle of having to get up, commute to the bay just to catch the morning ferry to the island...all for love, I guess.

I'll be stoping by the St. Mary's library pretty soon, see what the Filipiniana section has to offer. They have an extensive collection that's hardly ever used. The place can be intimidating, but all the artifacts and the prized books...it's amazing that no one has ever taken the time to publisize it.

The sad part about this all is that I'm not a historian, I wouldn't know if I'm handling the information correctly.

...

That's one thing i'm sure of, I need to write about this, much like how I need to breath. This writing thing...it's in the system.

....

I've also found at least one feeling for Christine: ANGER.

I saw her on Xarra's Friendster list, so help me I just wanted to rip that annoying icon of a sleeping clock off the screen.

It was selfish of me to wish that she was so isolated that no one thought to invite her. That she didn't have any more friends. It's a fairly evilt thought, but I just couldn't stop myself from thinking it as soon as it happened.

It's as if all my anger just went nova on that one moment.

We still shared friends, my life will forever be linked to her through any one of these people, and that thought alone bring up all the hardships that I went through those past couple of months.

I've been asked if I wonder if she thinks about the situation. I'm sure she does, that she's probably cursing me through all the stages of hell for hurting her mother.

I'd call her bitch but I don't even think she deserved to be called that.

In the lst stages of our friendship, she acted hate and malicious intent. She was not the friend that I knew and grew up with, but a different person.

I was even upset that they had cable.

Your poor, the project is fucking ending, you can't afford any of these!

I knew that, and in some sick part of me, I am wishing that the same thing that happened to them before would happen now: no tv, cable and phone lines cut, no going out, all because they didn't have any money.

...

Dear Lord, just help me forget her please. If this is how i'll remember her, then i'd rather not remember her at all.