I ran out of space in my head...the net seemed vast enough so I decided to lump it all here.

Thursday, September 30, 2004

Power Tripping

Karen and I are being pulled to coach some UST teams. Between the two of us, we can probably end up coaching a third of the colleges in the school.

The weirdest thing about this is that Kenneth--my egomaniac ex-coach--used to be my age when he started coaching us.

The way we looked at him was so extreme. It's like he was ten years older and was so balanced and thought out and sure because he was fucking older. In retrospect, it was just four or five years, but your that young anything over 20 is considered ADULT.

And now here I am, in the same position. Nearly all the debaters i've lectured to think i'm sort of diety (or, as Karen is fond of putting it, "debating god-dess") and they have that bright eyed look when they listen to me talk.

It's amusing, but at the same time I remember how I was when I was training for my first competitions.

Of course, I wasn't as enamored as they are. I was a cocky shit of a debater who thought she was fucking good the first time she made a speech.

My first time out, Kenneth's only comment was "Pretty good" and I told myself i'd make him eat his words...and he did.

But that's not the point.

Having these kids look up to me like i'm this genius is weird when I feel like such a runt.

I'm good, I know i'm good, but I never once felt that I reached the level that I dreamed to achieve when I was competing. Though in retrospect, even if I did stay in the sport, I don't think I would have anyway.

I was always afraid of that one girl who was better, which was why I never really made an effort to be the best. Because if your number one, the expectations go higher, the stakes get harder, and I didn't want to deal with being the best in one hand and having the possibility of losing in another.

I think I deliberately made myself miss a debate on my last dialectics simply because I didn't want to be number one. By losing the 1st position, I didn't have to perpetually worry about that girl who would have been number one except she didn't compete.

Of course, by sabotaging my chances, I managed to give the new Number One a complex. Everyone knew I deserved that place, and she spent half the time in the awarding ceremonies wanting to give me the fucking medal and started telling everyone why I should have gotten it afterwards.

Maybe I could have done the two of us a favor by winning and sparing us those stupid thoughts of "what if"...

Now i'm 24, and i'm older, and that privilage card called youth that gets me through a lot of scrapes is deathly close to expiring.

And I am fuck-ass freaking out.

To be honest...i'm scared of turning out like my coach, who spent most of his days power-tripping with us and messing with our psyche's.

And I'm scared that these kids will look up to me, and expect me to be this person which doesn't really exist. This uber debater, this really great person, this...adult.

Because really, if this is adulthood...then damn, there's a lot of shit to be worked out before Ault-Kriszia will truly be me.

Monday, September 27, 2004

Ring of Evil

Just got the navel ring yesterday. Finally!

The Twin Towers (a.k.a. Mark and JP) went with me and took pics of the whole thing. I kept worrying that my tummy wasn't flat enough, since I ate a lot beforehand, but from the pics it looked okay. Not nearly as bloated as I thought.

It didn't hurt much, not as bad as Luis told me. But then, the tatooist placed a little Novocaine to help. Mark thought I was robbed of a memorable experience, but if you feel that needle going in for that three to five seconds, you'll know that it's one bitch of an experience that i'm thankful not to have.

To celebrate, we all set to watch The Exorcist. I was voting for Feng Shui because of Roy, but alas, I was out voted.

Except for that disturbing scene of the kid being eaten by hyenas (wherein the sound of crunching bones will haunt me forever) it wasn't as bad it seems. I think the original one with Linda Blair was more shocking.

My parents told me that after the first time they saw it, they couldn't sleep for close to a week just thinking about it.

It's just a movie, but if you're a Catholic who's had the oppurtunity to witness a posession, or even be in a place where there was one, you tend to freak out.

Both my parents went through that same period where a kid in their Catholic school was possessed/rumored to be possessed/or just plain saw ghosts and she extrapolated.

I had the same thing in second grade, where we were all given holy waters and taught to pray the Prayer of St. Micheal the Arc Angel. (me and the mum went to the same Catholic girls school, btw)

So I pretty much stayed away from the first Exorcist. I had some qualms watching this one, but horror being my new genre, I thought i'd give it a try.

I admit, I was a bit disappointed. As with most American horror flicks, it had very little horror and just had a lot of gore. Your fear is based on disgust of torn body parts and maggots crawling out of your skin, as opposed to whatever shit that may come and grab you in the darkness.

Happy at the same time that I would be granted a good nights sleep (though I didn't, since I had an essay due for $21 dollars--yes, hawking english papers again)

My mom was surprised that I actually had the guts to see it.

Though she was more surprised that I fucking got the navel ring. She didn't completely freak out, mainly because I started my sentence with "Don't be mad at me, I did something..." and all her guesses were infinitely worse than having a frigging hole on my tummy.

She did ask me if it was evil though, which really disturbed me. Where the hell did she get the idea?

I think she expects me to be somehow possessed and just start sleeping around, drinking, or boosting cars or start doing random fuckingly stupid things because of the damn ring.

It's annoyingly ridiculous.

After assuring her that my head would not start spinning and I wouldn't be off doing pagan rituals, she's now on a mission to make my dad find me out.

I haven't told him. At this point, doing so would earn me a smack in the head and i'm too old for that.

Better wait like a month, after i'm neck deep in the script, and his only reaction will be "Why the hell did you that for? Did it hurt? Shit...okay"

My dad's side of the family like to keep their reaction to the bare minimim. Those few words are already a five on the richter scale.

In the meantime, the thing hurts like a little bitch, I have to put up with drinking the anti-biotics and bothering with the anti-bacterial ointment...but damn, the thing does make me smile.






Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Self-Assesment

I just took a "Dyslexia Self-Assessment" Questionnaire where I was made to read a lot of questions where I was asked if I had: difficulty in ranking instructions, problems with mathematical tables, if the letters swim on the page, do I skip a line...etc. etc.

I was halfway done when I realized...if I was really dyslexic, then I wouldn't be able to read this fucking page at all....?!?!


Monday, September 20, 2004


V5, Big Bert, Little John, Steve (at the mighty frigging center), Jaime, Mark, and two disturbingly naked babies who are in no way affiliated with the show

Gifts for X-Mas: Kriszia's Wishlist for the Voltez V Crew

Little John:
Ritalin, a sucker, and a PS2. Maybe a playboy subscription

Big bert: gym subscription, diet pills, a self-helf book, and maybe a few Pilates lessons

Jaime: a Haagen Daz certificate, the neck massager, a pile of Vin Diesel movies

Mark: certificate for Malboro clothing line, a blow-up doll, a my little pony, and the access codes to Jaime's room

Steve: a fucking mirror

Thursday, September 16, 2004


Vinspiration

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Scripts

Five lines, five fucking lines
Just give me something good to play
For the rest of my life

Monday, September 06, 2004

I'ma do what?!..

Through sheer will, I managed to sit down and complete the storyline for my script. So now I have a stack of index cards with scene treatments that are just waiting for me to expand it with dialogue, which will make it resemble something of a movie, which will hopefully be picked up by some studio out there.

I was all set to do some heavy duty research at Luis' call center--with just three hundred fucking bucks in my pocket--but he told me to buckle down and finish my cosmo book first.

I've been bouncing between these two projects ever since I discovered that I didn't have ten hands, five brains, and the creative prowess of Neil Simon, which caused me to whittle things down.

The cosmo projects was first in line, so it was suggested that I finish that first. Which is okay--i'd been stuck in a rut, but after coming into a particular revelation my life, I managed to write the first dramatic hurdle and just move on.

It's probably a good idea that I write this first, because for the life of me, I'm finding it difficult to write in Filipino, even in Taglish. So I'm talking to some of my friends in Filipino now, just to practice.

Another stunning revelation was also my aunt asking me to drop my accent in order to make it into TV.

If she wasn't sick and older, I probably would have yelled a crapper at her. It doesn't help that my "inner voice" has been particularly foul-mouthed these days.

First off, I don't have any plans to be on television. I don't want to host my own show, be a reporter, a VJ, or anything. At the most, i'd probably love to do a car show or a gear show, but only if I can trash the things that have shitty reviews (I'm not kidding)

I don't know if it's the result of my birthday approaching, or just me getting sick and tired of people thinking I was "sweet" and "fragile" and end up being disappointed when they found out i'm not.

It bothers me that some people confuse thoughtfulness with sweetness, especially when their idea of it is very different.

So I have an accent, so I have a mouth. I don't really like to cuss, but I do when I try and make a point. It's language, it's words, and I'd like to think that i'm free to use them at my disposal.

The whole thing was just bizarro. I don't know why my aunt is pushing for me to be on TV or even radio. I've long since realized that although my humor is appreciated, it's not for public consumption. You don't know when some over-zelous Bible thumper will show up, and all you need is one to ruin the whole mood.








I'ma do what?!..

Through sheer will, I managed to sit down and complete the storyline for my script. So now I have a stack of index cards with scene treatments that are just waiting for me to expand it with dialogue, which will make it resemble something of a movie, which will hopefully be picked up by some studio out there.

I was all set to do some heavy duty research at Luis' call center--with just three hundred fucking bucks in my pocket--but he told me to buckle down and finish my cosmo book first.

I've been bouncing between these two projects ever since I discovered that I didn't have ten hands, five brains, and the creative prowess of Neil Simon, which caused me to whittle things down.

The cosmo projects was first in line, so it was suggested that I finish that first. Which is okay--i'd been stuck in a rut, but after coming into a particular revelation my life, I managed to write the first dramatic hurdle and just move on.

It's probably a good idea that I write this first, because for the life of me, I'm finding it difficult to write in Filipino, even in Taglish. So I'm talking to some of my friends in Filipino now, just to practice.

Another stunning revelation was also my aunt asking me to drop my accent in order to make it into TV.

If she wasn't sick and older, I probably would have yelled a crapper at her. It doesn't help that my "inner voice" has been particularly foul-mouthed these days.

First off, I don't have any plans to be on television. I don't want to host my own show, be a reporter, a VJ, or anything. At the most, i'd probably love to do a car show or a gear show, but only if I can trash the things that have shitty reviews (I'm not kidding)

I don't know if it's the result of my birthday approaching, or just me getting sick and tired of people thinking I was "sweet" and "fragile" and end up being disappointed when they found out i'm not.

It bothers me that some people confuse thoughtfulness with sweetness, especially when their idea of it is very different.

So I have an accent, so I have a mouth. I don't really like to cuss, but I do when I try and make a point. It's language, it's words, and I'd like to think that i'm free to use them at my disposal.

The whole thing was just bizarro. I don't know why my aunt is pushing for me to be on TV or even radio. I've long since realized that although my humor is appreciated, it's not for public consumption. You don't know when some over-zelous Bible thumper will show up, and all you need is one to ruin the whole mood.