"Do what you love, do it well."

Those Smiley Central Pop-ups are irritating me to hell.

I was going to figure out a way to block the spasm to my office terminal then I remembered that I will only be here for two more months and decided that it’s not worth the trouble.

I’ve settled down a bit, so I am no longer in my panic mode. I spoke with Karen yesterday and we’re going to go job hunting this coming February. We’re specifically looking for part time jobs since we’ll be taking a couple of courses for this year.

I’m reviewing my budget for this coming quarter, and though I don’t really have much in there, it certainly is more than I started with—nothing. As soon as I settle some bills and save for my insurance money, my March earnings should be able to pay for two writing courses, plus damage money. February is for bills and insurance money. I’d like to pay for my whole year, since I don’t want to be thinking about bills while I’m writing.

…

I was reading my cousin’s blog this morning, and she was grousing on being undisciplined.

Holy cow, if she was undisciplined, then what am I?

I must be the biggest sloth on the earth compared to her! She is a wonderful student, like Manang Leiya. While I, on the other hand, can’t even sit through a chapter of Organic Chemistry without feeling like ants are crawling out of my head.

I can never recall even just one time where I went to the library to study and never got distracted by anything. Even a piece of paper was enough to draw me away from school work.

Not to mention being incredibly bored with some of my later classes. I think I spent more time in the library than I did in lectures. But the again, I was at my wits end. It didn’t matter whether I was going to fail, what was important was that I came home having learned something, anything.

I must admit, going around UST in a 5-person conga line was a tad bit off. Worth the experience though.

…

Anyway, last night I took a peek at my resume and noted the things that needed to be updated.

Despite the hell that it put me through, the promotion looked very well on my list of work experiences.

I told Xarra that I was having a hard time listing my extra-curricular activities. Whether I was going to put my Trek club—which is a legitimate fund raising body besides being an online compendium for trek geeks—or my UN Volunteer program first.

I know that the United Nations holds more weight, but I joined Trek last and I’d hate to mess up my chronology. The situation seems ridiculous, but I really do feel like Trek holds just as much weight as the others.

Suffice to say, the jitters are over. Despite everything, I knew this was going to happen. I’d told myself that I was going to leave after the bluebook was done, but it really is in bad conscience to be staying just for the money.

Besides, there nothing for me to do! Most of my would be assignments were devolved to phase two, and even if they call me for that (very big IF, considering how wonderful I am with authority) I don’t think I’m all for committing myself to a full time job right now.

It’s time to write.

…

Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I’d just pursued law.

I’d probably be tired as hell and looking forward to my final year of torture. I’d probably be biting my nails at the impending thought of taking the bar and how I might just explain to others and (most of all) myself on why I didn’t make the cut.

I remember being fascinated and terrified with the idea of law school, even from way back HS. It was the prestige of being in law school, of being a lawyer that fascinated me. It didn’t have anything to do with passion, or conviction.

It took a rather dismal internship at the Sandiganbayan to convince me that this was not the life for me.

I knew even then that I wasn’t going to be a corporate lawyer. The idea of sitting behind a desk looking over the cases of some money-making company didn’t appeal to me, too passive. I wanted to do something that made an impact, maybe environmental law or being a JAG lawyer.

But sitting through all those court cases turned me off for good.

It wasn’t just the sleeping judges, or the workers praetorian habits, or my disappointment in the lack of courtroom drama (I had hoped for at least some), but it was just the overall feel of the thing.

Being inside that courtroom and watching some of the country’s priciest and well known attorneys did nothing for me.

And I had the best position too. Being in HR meant having a lot of free time, so I got to see the justices’ portfolios and read all the cases that came through the copy room—not to mention all the Time, Newsweek and Reader’s Digest I could handle.

The system just—bored me. I didn’t feel like I could contribute anything by being a lawyer.

If I’d gone to law school, I’d probably be miserable or kicked out.

…

If I hadn’t had my depression, I think I would have gone to law school. Yet another testament to God’s great timing.

My only concern right now is finding the right classes. For scriptwriting, I have to take that here. The market is fresh and the industry is just beginning to pick up, I’ll find a better chance to find work here.

But I might just take a course on character development online. I tend to focus on just one character when I write, so I’m going to have to learn the skill of equally fleshing them out.

The biggest challenge that I had to overcome in being a writer is accepting that I still had a lot of things to learn.

I always believed that talent alone would get me through, that any sort of formal training would spoil my rawness.

But you learn along the way that there are certain techniques that could help you write better, or do something as simple as drawing up a comprehensive and yet feasible outline (which isn’t really simple, I’m sorry)

…

All things considered, I’m excited for this coming year.

My biggest achievement for 2003 was facing my fears and accepting that this is what I want to do, despite the stigma that it might bring.

The only script you have to follow is your own—not your parents, your friends, your professors, or any ghosts from your pasts that you feel you have to impress.

At the end of the day, the only person that decides your happiness is you. When you come home feeling sad and unfulfilled, do other people’s impressions really count?

It’s time I started living my own life.