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

Saturday, January 31, 2004

I've finally, finally sat down long enough to read through the Creative Common's liscense agreement.

It's a free but legal document, designed to protect you and your work.

This is because in the coming months, I will be having some free time--a concept that I have come to forget--which means, I get to update my site, move to the one that I actually paid for, and add some cool new stuff.

And cool new stuff means Kriszia-with-the-camera, and Kriszia-with-the-camera can be a very tricky thing, because I take pics of everything.

Moving on...

I just signed up for my free! NASA account. I found out that Atlantis has a tentative launching in September, and I want to be able to keep tabs on that.

It has somehow occured to me that I read a lot of STUFF. Some of them good, some of them informative, some are just pure rubbish. But nevertheless, I always enjoy the time I spend just sitting down and reading.

I've carried a lot of guilt for not reading a hecka-ton of books over the past year. People always assume that i'm a wide reader, which I'm not.

For me, being a wide-reader falls under the category of "relative things", i.e. the Pope is 80 so a 50 year old man should be young, in the same sense that to a 50 year old man a 30 year old is young" etc.

I think of wide readers as people who read everything. I'm talking people who have stacks of books on the floor and have to put some books on donation just to make room for more. Or at least someone who goes through six books a month.

Sad to say, I am not any of that.

I admit to having stacks of books: some of them on the floor--most of them I keep promising myself i'll go through. Some I have, some partially, some I have been putting off for years.

It's been two years and I still cannot wade through Milan Kundera's "Unbearable Lightness of Being". I'm still halfway through "Zoe" in Franny and Zoe. And i've just given up on Graity's Rainbow and will, as soon as I feel up to it, download the damn internet guide to reading it.

For months all I have been reading are "fanfics", and the things I have to research for work.

But lately i've been growing more reader-hungry and just reading anything and everything I set my eyes on.

Thus, the NASA account.

Yesterday, I was cleaning out my emailbox from work, trying to see what should be junked and going through some of the forwards and subscriptions that I haven't gone through.

I had a months worth of Open Democracy and some from the New York Times. I sat down and got through half of them, my brain inundated with so much information that I just had to stop at some point and process.

And just when I thought that was enough, I'm just reminded that I have to pick up The Asian Wallstreet Journal. We used to get free copies at the UST library, so it was a constant staple in many debaters bags--including mine.

When I skipped Eco class in my last year, I'd read the AWJ first, probably to rationalize my not being in class by telling myself that I was learning a lot more by keeping myself abreast of it's real life applications.

Oh, wait.

Lunch!








Friday, January 30, 2004

Unnerved

Some months ago I had to subscribe to nerve,com in order to read a an online story that Jay McInerney posted there.

I got the following message in my confirmation of subscription letter:

----
Save this email so you never forget them!

Now get in there and meet a honey in personals, make new friends in chat,
or join an ongoing message board discussion in the Web's only community of
thoughtful hedonists.

Thanks again for thinking about sex, and welcome aboard!

---- & -----
Your NerveCenter Cruise Directors

----
It was signed off with: Brought to you by NerveCenter
The Community of Thoughtful Hedonists



My brief foray into profiling has left me jaded on matters concerning sex. There isn’t much material out there that can shock me now, and I don’t try to judge people of their depravations. I don’t care how some people get their jollies so long as it doesn’t involve unsolicited violence or minors. Coz then I’ll sic the cops on you and I will be happy to do it.

Different strokes for different folks. I get that.

But this I still don’t get.

Every time someone is so blatantly open about sex—their views on sex, what sex means to them and others, blah, blah, blah…I’m sure there’s a word for this—that sets me aback.

A community of thoughtful hedonists.

How nice. And here I was always thinking that hedonists were selfish usurps of pleasure. Maybe they still are, but this community thinks first before they do something about it.

Just to be fair, nerve.com has some nice stories. I’ve read a couple of their stuff that was linked in some of the sites I frequent. They all have a sexual theme of course, but the quality of the writing is pretty good.

I’ve never been to any of the forums though, nor do I plan to. The thought of it just scares me. For some reason I can pick up Krafts Psychopathia Sexualis and be completely disassociated, but give me a couple of Yuppies screaming “sex! Sex! I want sex!” and I am out the door.

Maybe I’m just too clinical.

Back to the Future

This is Open Democracy's 2004 calandar.

Enjoy!

"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.

How in the world do I include pics here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, January 29, 2004

Demotivated

I was looking for some good old caustic laughs so I surfed over for some Demotivators.

All of them were good, but this one reminds me so much of my former boss that it's priceless!

BOOM!

And today started out with so much potential.

My mom woke me up ridiculously early just to tell me to take out my laundry, my dad beat me to the showers, I had two outfit changes because I found out that I had no more work clothes, and just after taking a super fast (and non-luxurious) shower, my dad left me, so I missed my free ride and had to commute to work.

A typical Thursday.

Pretty boring, until my former-boss had her assistant deliver the (late) much anticipated (coz she took so long to do it) contract renewals (which should have been done last November) that contains my new scope of work.

I took one look at my contract end and BOOM!

You are out of a job by the end of March 2004. Here is your two months notice. You may not pass Go, you give up your Cannot Go To Jail Card, and You do not get your 200.

Surprised?

I know I was, since my work orders have got me buried up to the gills until August. I called my new boss (who is a nicer but busier boss) from her business trip, who assured me that she would clear it up with the boss-of-all-bosses (previously referred to as big-big-boss) She called an hour later to inform me that no, itwas not a mistake. She sounded sad and a bit surprised. My contract expires at this date and she didn't know about it. So yes, it was a good idea to start looking for a job.

Uh, might I mention my lack of a few things? Like (censored for the benefit of the cousins who might be incriminated)

To be honest, this is a step forward.

Last night, as I came home from a spiritually filling encounter at Crossroads 77, I thought about where it was that I was heading.

Yesterdays sermon was--to sum it up--about timing.

Your time on earth, your time in doing things, and your time in making things happen-where nothing is an accident, and God does everything for a reason.

I got home at 11, and even though I tried settling myself down by reading a couple of fanfics, I couldn't help but think of the sermon and the conversation that Sally and I had at the Delta Bento Box.

What are you going to do?

By definition, I am a "struggling writer". I'm an unpublished writer and i'm struggling. But staying unpublished and forever struggling is a disgrace to struggling writers everywhere. I haven't even starved for this because my parents are still paying for my housing.

Not that I want go homeless, thank you very much, but unless you haven't really suffered the real struggling writers might just stone you just so you can get the requisite angst.

In short, this frightening prospect is actually a good idea. My friend Enid even texted me to tell me that she was proud of me for getting what I want! (Bless you, E, for always being supportive. You rock, girl)

So even though I am scared shitless for losing my job, I am looking forward to this momentous adventure of being--once again--unemployed.
And to celebrate, I now present:

10 Reasons Why I Am Happy To Kick This Job™

1. I no longer have to see Christines mother.
--This also means I will no longer be reminded of Christine and my anger towards her. Thank God.

2. I don't have to buy new office clothes.
--I just found out this morning that I was out of clothes. Now I get to plan for a new wardrobe!

3. I no longer have to put up with the air-conditioning.
--The former boss--who is now, and forever shall be, my former boss--always kept it at 19C. Her cold blood cannot be allowed to thaw.

4. I get to kick the office pariah stats.
--The office olds are at it again, so this is the last time I have to put up with any more generational gap bullshit. Well, at least here.

5. I finally get to start on my writing career.
--Seriously, this was the push that I needed. If I weren't placed on my wits end, I'd still be sitting cushy on my solid paycheck.

6. I no longer have to hear any more whiny, sweetie, time-deficient officemates who have serious hang-ups with boyriends that they shouldn't be having in the first place.
--That sentence alone is cause for a fresh breath. But do I care? Maybe on the fact that I will no longer see her! Yezzzzzzzzz.

7. No more New Order.
--Even though I never really spent much time in the office of the big boss--soon to be former big boss--to be infected, just knowing that it's being played 45 fet away is enough to make me want to scrub raw. And did I mention that she says the word snarky?

8. I no longer have to sit in uncomfortable office chairs.
--Okay, so it's not just the chair, but it's the desk and chair combo. This place was not ergonomically designed nor thought out. Besides, I also found out that what caused my left foot to go numb was it's proximity to the power grid box. Can I sue? And If I can, can I start with Christines mother?

9. I finally get to put my past behind me.
--The topic of this year is moving forward, which won't happen unless I let go of Christine, Christine's mother, or anything that reminds me of her. She is a symbol of a past and more dependent life. The person they insist on projecting is no longer me.

10. I can finally, finally, do my geeky stuff
--This April, I will probably sit down and hotwire my brain to some geeky stuff: advanced HTML, PHP, Linux, some Perl, and finally build a kickass web-site.


Tuesday, January 27, 2004

BeetleBugged

VW Beetle owners are like no other. You either love `em or hate `em, there is no middle ground.

When you love a beetle, your affection can go a long way, like the brand itself. You may hate the other cars (nothing, after all, can compare to a Beetle) but seeing the words VW has certainly heightened your senses.

So imagine my surprise when I saw the latest VW news delivered to me by the New York Times:

2004 Volkswagen Phaeton V-8: A People's Car for Wealthy People

PERHAPS you trailed the Grateful Dead in a paisley-painted Microbus, or crammed the whole family, with luggage, into a Beetle taxi in Mexico. Maybe you and a buddy recreated that da-da-da commercial for the Golf, cruising aimlessly and picking up discarded furniture.

Whatever richly memorable experiences you may have had in a Volkswagen, you probably did not have them in a memorably rich Volkswagen. That may soon change. After decades as an icon of the counterculture and a symbol of sensible chic, VW has elitist aspirations. Its latest model, the 2004 Phaeton, goes where no Jetta dared to tread.


Read More

My friend Enid is a Jetta fan, and i've given the vintage Kharmann Gia's more than a gaze, but this just blows me out.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea that VW has gone deluxe. Considering the cushy price tag, I almost expected the thing to have jets. I mean, where the hell where they stashing all that money? This is the people's car, where economy isn't a bad word but something to be revered.

But I looked and there it was: a Benz masquerading in a VW decal.

It has the length, the looks, the style, the creature comforts and the interiors. Heck, it even eats as much gas and has nearly the same price.

Know what's wrong with it?

It's just not the Benz.

VW People! What are you doing!

Monday, January 26, 2004

Drafted

I have been going through my Drafts pages and I just realized that there's just way too many precious thoughts kept in there. And what are neurotic thoughts but to share?

It's one thing to bitch inside your head, and another to bitch when someone listening. But bitching to the net just makes me feel a whole LOT better.

Trust me, if I could do smileys, i'd have one right ---> here :).

Oh, and it's an Evil Smiley, but I don't think they make those yet.

???

It's nearly 2am and i'm too wired to go to bed.

I just got off the phone with Luis, after having my mother nearly want to break my door down for staying up too late.

...

There's something really wrong with having your mom banging on your door at 1am telling you to go to bed when you're all of what, 24? Shouldn't I get my own life already?

The one I have now is currently...boring.

But just in case the powers that be hear me, the kind of excitement I crave is for a non-dramatic thing: no dead people, no backstabbers, no famliy members suddenly turning gay on me nor any sudden additions.

No whacko ex-friends, friends psycho ex-grilfriends/boyfriend, no former stalkers coming through my door.

I'd like this to be nice excitement. Not soap opera excitement.

Oh look, fanfic. Let's have that put me to bed.

Friday, January 23, 2004

Original Copy

El Nido, Palawan - If you were stranded on a deserted island, what would you bring and who you like to be with?

In essence, this is the scenario that the producers of Expedition Robinson tried to play out in a survival competition held in several islands in this northern Palawan resort. Although it is named after Robinson Crusoe of classical literature, the contest is actually a cross between the island survivor character and another popular adventure tale, Lord of the Flies, says reality editor Jeppe Juhl.


Read More

Here's proof that nothing is ever original.

I was trying out some of FRMP's (Fisheries Resource Management Project) links for the office CRM Clearbook when I stumbled onto this itty bitty thing.

Well, color me surprised, and here I thought that the Survivor series was a one of Original, a new reality show hatched by Aussie mark Burnette. Now i'm not so sure.

It's one thing to copy something else, but to take it, buff it, and to sell it of as the one-of real gold is just plain ass stupid.

But then again, this is Hollywood we're talking about. I'm still wondering why the British producers/makers of the UK version of Three's Company didn't sue. A lot of the scences were exact rip off, sets, clothes, reactions and all. If only the orignal didn't sound so cockney I bet they would have copied that too.

Let's see...currently we have The Ring, now we have Survivor...i'm pretty sure that there are one or two things that were copied from somewhere...

I know it' s not piracy, but what exactly do you call copying the exact same storyline, fill it with hi-pro stars, bombard it with a marketable soundtrack, glitzy special effects, then send it off with a remarkable teaser and ridiculous merchandise?



Thursday, January 22, 2004

Disillusioned

Robert Duncan McNeil smokes.

I don't even understand why I didn't notice. I mean, i've read that interview a dozen times, and I never noticed it. And yet tonight, I saw it. "As he lights up a cigarette", in one of those descriptive style interviews that writers love to use.

I think my heart shattered and one of the pink monkeys in my head died.

Robert Duncan McNeill smokes.

Maybe he doesn't smoke anymore, maybe it was just then, and it was cool then, during the 80's. A lot of dumb things were cool then, like huge shoulder pads and toxic hairspray and really bad eye make-up.

Maybe he quit when he had his kids, because he is such a family man and that is a huge incentive...

And why am I bothering with this???

It really bothers me how I can be so troubled by something such as this (I was close to tears...close to) and yet not really be so attached to something such as...well, the environment.

I should cry every time someone I like screws up the segregation bins. MO2 always messes it up and throws his cigarettes anywhere he wants, and yet that never brought me to tears. And I know this guy. Heck, he smokes in my house. The only time he puts it out is when I start to really complain (I have this nose krinkle thing that really gets to people) and even then it's done with an eyeroll.

Heck, my dad smokes and he is of The Mold.

Which means, Damian Lewis probably smokes/smoked, Linden Ashby and Alessandro Nivolla probably smokes/smoked, and we all know that Nick Lea smokes...

And for Kahless sake, did I really need to know that?! Why couldn't I have just memorized a couple of math formula. That would have been a lot more helpful to my life as a college student.

I mean, I don't use cosign or any of the stuff I would have grasped in trig, but I would have at least learned them. As sure as I did adding stuff. I had to compensate for my inability to do higher math by developing a compulsive need to add things. Mentally. As if adding long colums of three or four digit numbers in my head would make things better.

Seriously, sometimes I wonder about these celebrity crushes that I have.

Luis once said that I was like a 12 year old high on Bop. I was giggly, hyper, and suddenly with 10 memory points higher.

I smacked him in the head and told him to at least compare me to a kid who knew all the facts in baseball cards.

There's a brief period from when I was 12 that I was into Bop. Very brief, like 2 months. A mere 10 weeks that I had to hide way back in high school because I had a reputation for being one of the weird popular kids, and the popular kids didn't read things such as Bop. Yuck.

It didn't really matter anyway, because my freshman year was blocked from everyone's memory. No one but my classmates that first year remembered me as a freshman, which is fine with me since I was really different as a freshman.

I hung out with a fun but rowdy bunch of friends. I was totally into MO1, and we used to go to school on Saturdays just to see him. I don't remember what excuse I gave the school to give me a permit or what the hell he was doing there on a Saturday, all I can remember now is that I was blind enough to give up one of my weekends just to catch glimpses of him.

Then on weekdays, i'd stay a couple of hours after school to just bum around. On at least one day of the week, we'd have a soda fight. We'd pop open a Mountain Dew and then let it fizz out. In class, we'd try and help each other with homework and studying, which never really worked since we'd revert to kidding around.

The following year, my teachers placed us in different classes. I was placed in the higher sections, the others were in rooms in another floor, while the others transferred to other schools.

My accident happened when I was 14, and I spent most of the year working to heal my left arms 2nd degree burns and turning into the Catcher in The Rye. Few months later, in a speech competition called the "Smart Interview" (I was an interviewee) I stood in front of the whole school and told them I was pro-contraceptives.

It was a Catholic school.

I'd gained some sort of noteriety for my accident, but saying that up on stage in front of the whole school just sealed the deal and lost me the competition. We were winning at that point, my answer totally did us in. Morality was 40% and my statement got us a 0.

Afterwards, a couple of teachers walked up to me and gave me a lecture. After my fifth sermon on condoms and the Catholic church, my journalism teacher came up to me and told me I did a good job.

Imagine that.

My homeroom advisor--who was also my biology teacher--kept babbling that she didn't teach me those things in Biology class. My religion teacher was in a panic. A teacher from another class gave me a frown and a curt opinion. Even my english teacher approached me and asked me whatever it was that possesed me to say that and throw away the match. Even my spiritual advisor gave me a reaming out and a primer on Vatican II.

But only Mrs. Corpuz came up to me and told me I did a great job.

She only taught upperclassmen, so I wouldn't have her for another year. The way she took the time to just stop and tell me that I did okay really made an impact on me.

But then, she made an impact on everyone, because that's just the way she is. Until now, I know a lot of people who admit to her influence in their lives, how we cannot make a decision without thinking that she is looking over our shoulder, hoping we make the right one.

She changed my life.

...

See? That's something I should think about, and not how Robbie McNeill smokes/smoked cigarettes. Well, Kahless I still haven't forgotten haven't I.

Oh well, at least it's not a big deal anymore.




Wednesday, January 21, 2004

aixelsyD

To paraphrase Jeri Ryan `Geometry isn't math, it's logic. Then they started mixing in the letters with the numbers and that's just bullshit'.

That's not the exact quote. There may something in between or the order is mucked up, but it really was something to that effect. Trust me on this. I have to remember since this one is so true...at least for me.

The only type of math that I liked was geometry. Plane geometry, with very little algebra as possible. My HS geometry teacher told me once that I would have done better if only i'd avoided making "careless mistakes", which I later found out was caused by my being mildly dyslexic. Which leads onto...

Why I can't remember all my 8 digit pin codes.

Numbers are so not my thing. To be fair though, that's sixteen new numbers to remember, plust the long account number.

I placed new numbers so that the PINS would be a lot more random. It seems paranoid, but if you've had hacker friends and even tested some crack programs just for fun, then you would be extra careful, too. I know my precaution of changing numbers is usless against a crack, but it makes me feel more comfortable anyway.

...

Anyway, first I forgot my PIN and got locked out. I had to call customer service in order to have it reset. Then I enrolled my bills and went on to pay....wherein I forgot my S-PIN number.

S-Pin is the nice number that allows you to transfer funds. You have to go to the bank and pin it again. You cannot call customer care anymore to have it changed.

I called the bank and asked them if I had to go down and could they just pin it themselves. The manager said that they didn't know what to do when online enrollees lost their S-PIN, then asked me to drop by and pin the number again.

I told them that the reason why I did this was because I didn't want to go to a bank in the first place!



Getting Into Head

I spent 15 minutes on the phone with my bank today trying to sort things out with my Equitable Fastnet account.

For those of you not in the know, Fastnet is Equitable's version of internet banking, aimed at geeks, techno-savvy yuppies, and lazes like me who have this huge aversion towards banks and their hours.

You can pay your phone bill, electricity bill, mobile phone bill, your kids scholarship plans, and a bunch of others that I didn't bother looking at. You can pay for your credit card too, but they don't carry my card company which really sucks since that's the only reason why I go to the bank in the first place.

:p

I enrolled a few weeks back, but I didn't try the damn thing until today, when my phone billwas a day overdue so I absolutely had to pay.

So I tried to log on and immediately encountered problems, caused mainly by my stupidty: I forgot my pin number.

It's an eight digit thing that is completely different from your atm number and all the other numbers that you're supposed to remember. So you have to remember your 16 digit account number, your 8 digit PIN number, then your other 8 digit S-pin number--and it's all those numbers that's causing all that trouble.

I have a problem with numbers. I don't hate them, but it most definitely hates me. When I was three my uber-montessori pre-school started me off with the beginners abacus, taking their initiative from my IQ scores and my passion for reading. They soon--SOON--learned that even with my fluke gift on phonetics (I started reading even before I knew I was reading, don't ask me how) did not extend to mathematics.

Monday, January 19, 2004

Cumpolsive Vlogger

I really do like doing this, huh?

The days have become hotter now. It must be around 28 degrees. I don't really care to be sure, I just know that it's warmer than usual.

I checked out the latest in kuro5hin, and found the usual stories in the front page. Nothing really interesting, mostly about the war in Iraq and George Bush.

Sometime later i'm going to do a piece on the CIA bruhaha here in the Philippines. But in the meantime, I have to do research for my other stuff, which is up to a slower start.

Papa was asking me how much a trip to Corregidor costs. We were discussing the packages and I'm convincing him to take the overnight tour. My trump card is the hike through the underground tunnels, where a guide takes you to the areas restricted in the day tour.

He's a real WWII buff, so it looks like we may go after all.

...

Our neighbors mail got mixed up with ours today, so we ended up with this months issue of The Toastmasters monthly magazine. I was curious and they had a website (okay, so I thought this might be a freebie magazine) so I decided to check it.

Toastmasters turns out to be this club that promotes good communication. They hold meetings where you get your turn at being chair in order to help improve your public speaking skills.

Kind of like Speech Power and Rotary fused into one.

:P

It's not such a hot club, sounds like a racket to me. But it did remind me of debate and how much I miss those competitions. That was the hardest i'd ever worked, so I'm more proud of my brief show of determination than I am of those medals.

It was great being good at something, but it felt even better working for it.

People don't understand how hard it is to have such a short attention span and not know what to do about it.

Sometimes I feel like kicking myself for my laziness or inattention. I try and try to just sit down and work, but nothing ever comes in. I wish like hell that I could study and earn those grades, but even though I want to, I just can't.

What's even more frustrating is that I know I can.

All those hours I spent in the library studying forensics and criminalistics...skipping class and deveoting long hours just reading. Maybe others thought ti was a big deal, but knowing myself and what i'm capable of, I know that what I did was not enough.

...

To be honest, I felt the same when I was debating. It was guilting to have to win matches, yet have Glen explain the facts in most economic cases. Which was why I never won best speaker in any of them: I never knew the facts.

I could have read more, could have researched more. I would have gotten better cases, would have won more matched, would have gotten scholarships for masters and probably a career.

But what would I be had I followed those?

...

I suppose this is me answering to the ghosts I have inside my head. One of them is named Leiya, and the new Me is trying very hard to be patient with her.

She just has this way of trying to get you under her thumb. Although it bothers me, the new Kriszia is not willing to put up with anything. I'm worried that one of these days i'll lose my temper and just give her a piece of my mind.

Being family does not give her liscense to insult people, and I might just let lose a comment on how other people work for their money.

...

I used to answer to a lot of those Leiya's in my head. It's liberating to know that nowadays, I'm at least mature enough to realize that I only have to answer to ME.

After all, i'm the one that's going to have to live with myself, I am the one that's ultimately going to decide my happiness. None of these executive decision is tied with theirs.

...

Well heck holy crap, a whole entry. And here I was just wanting to bitch about having the Goodyear blimp as the perennial advert on my blog.

I have nothing against the derigible, I just thought i'd see a little variety up there. You know, some Trek, maybe some political site. But no one ever comes here to read, so I guess I just get junk adds.

Oh well, at least my thoughts are mine alone.

Wasted

I'm sitting here at home, winding down my first day of the week in my newly cleaned room.

I didn't go to work today. Instead, I spent most of the morning cleaning and disinfecting my wound. I got a needle to pick on the clotted blood, but I chickened out so I just dipped my foot on peroxide and let the chemicals do it's job.

For such a simple injury the wound turned out to be quite severe...butt ugly in fact. It looks like a rat took a chunk out of my tiny toe.

Anyway, it's off to work tomorrow. I still have to decide what outfit to wear, considering that I have to wear shoes that won't hurt my foot. I may end up wearing sneakers to work, since they'd be the only thing soft enough to both hide and protect my toe.

I'm trying to work a deal with Luis for a part time job. I told him that I needed a part time job for this August and that I didn't mind that I'd be stuck in HR calling people. I already did that before, and boring though it may be, I was pretty good at it.

I'm looking for something that will at least pay me 5-6k a month for part time, since i'm going to need some covering money for some bills. Luis was offering me a full time job, but I declined since I told him I wanted to take some writing classes.

...

Funny isn't it? The one reason why I'd wanted to become a professional at something was so I could avoid the creative route.

I'm too lazy for the creative route, too weak hearted and just no spine for it.

But i'm here anyway, which goes to show that no matter how hard you try, you'll always end up in where you most want to be. It doesn't matter how scared you are, or how undprepared. Sometimes, you just have to jump into it, otherwise you'll never really get the courage to get there.

I didn't want to live an unstable life. Didn't want to ever face rejection. I just wanted to stay in my little cocoon where I kept telling myself that I was a writer, mainly because I was too scared to prove it.

It's only now that I'm learning that you are a writer, no matter what other people say. Words are in your blood, bleeding out into your soul. No one can dispute that, no matter how many rejections you get or how many failed attempts you get from doing a story. You are a writer, nobody can change that.

So you don't have what they need, big deal. Those words are still yours, and no one has the right to take that away from you.





1:37am

I'm skipping work tomorrow.

My foot hurts so bad that it's not even funny.

I took some great pictures of the house today. It looks like I have some talent after all. I was always scared that I wouldn't have "the eye" for photography, that my aunt and uncle would disappointed in my lack of flair.

But i've taken some decent pictures.

I wondered if I could use this to tide me over. This and writing. But if there is one thing that I know about being in the creative arts, it's that this is a very fickle business. Talent isn't what drives you, it's courage and a fierce determination.

...

If I had to do this, I guess my best shot would be a photographic essay. I love pictures that tell stories. You have artistic pictures--beautiful shots with fantastical vision--then you have those whose images want to shout out the words.

...

I like to tell stories, that's what I do.

I love looking at things and seeing the one thing that other people don't see. I love watching people, wondering what goes through their heads, trying to guess if they think--if they perceive consciousness--in the same way as me.

I have all these images, all these words and pictures and scenes inside my head that's just waiting to go out. They're so real that soemtimes I have to stop and to verify it against my memories.

...

This is what I am thinking about, as I stay up at 2 in the morning.

Sunday, January 18, 2004

Sullen, miserable, and bleeding

I hurt my foot at Tita Beth's today.

The pain was pretty bad, but since everyone was having a nice time I didn't want to make a fuss. So it wasn't until 20 minutes later that I noticed that my my little doe was bleeding and had a little blood clotted on the wound.

Not a pretty sight, but the whole situation can be taken as a symbol of my life.

I hate saying "I hurt".

I whine about it, I bitch about it, sometimes I even like being fussed over, but I never really got to the point where I told people that "I hurt". Pain was a sign of weakness, something one should never expose, lest you are taken advantage of.

The one time that I did say I was hurt, all hell had broken lose around me and no one could understand where I was.

I used to describe those times during my depression as falling through a hole.

I fell down a hole that was not too deep, but high enough for me to not to get out of. It was pretty small, a crevice in a rock, so there was very little sunlight pouring in. But it was always sunlight, and it was always day.

I always saw the daylight streaming in.

There were dozen of hands reaching in, trying very hard to come get me. But their hands were rough, and their efforts hurt. They pulled too hard, and because of that I didn't want to come out.

I just wanted them to stay away.

A year later, I tried climbing out of that whole, and i've been on my way out ever since.

But I still can't say that "I hurt".

Friday, January 16, 2004

Sentimental

My story has just been dumped (or as kuro5hin has tactfully said--declined and hidden) but I got some nice yes', so i'm okay with that.

It was an old story, and i'm just appreciative that some people liked it, despite the ruthless way it was dragged into the mud for voting. Damn, I really should have gone online last night. I would have found out how it did!

But like I said, it was an old story, so i'm off to lick my wounds in brief solitude before running off to continue my other stories. Had it been a recent one, I would have cried my eyes out or something.

Anyway, I am listening to my Homefront compilation--songs from the tv show Homefront--and thinking about Dino Reyes.

Yes, Frances Gumapac's Dino Reyes.

I searched him on Friendster and he wasn't there.

I've been wanting to talk to him because we always got along. We shared some interesiting views, despite his S-Club obsession.

Anyway, I know contacting him would seem like I'd be going behind Frances back, but Dino and I were friends. It made me sad that she felt incredibly jelouse of me when Dino and I were e-mailing and they were still going out. I was irritated as hell for breaking communications with Dino, but for the sake of their then-relationship I guess I complied.

Now that they've broken up things will be less complicated in being friends, I just have to find him...

I don't know why i've been doing this, maybe i've been with Christine for so long that i'm starved for some new people. I want to make some new friends.

I've been adjusting to this new life when all my other friends have moved to the fore and seems to have just taken care of me. They are the best!

But it's new faces that I seek. Not to be busom buds with, but just new people to interact with, bring new stuff into my life.

My life was and never will be boring, that I concede to. All the dogdays of my life has given me something to write about. If my life had gone as straight as the annoying-cuz, I would never have anything to tell, because my life would be like everyone else!

...

I don't know what's gotten in me today--or for the past two days, for that matter. I can't work!

I'm feeling nostalgic, sad...lonely, I guess. I don't know why. But I suppose i'll find out in the next few days.





Thursday, January 15, 2004

I have just subjected my old, old, old story--Luck--to the mercy of kuro5shin's bloodthirsty readers.

The people doing the comments are ruthless, but I think it's pretty great. The fate of everything will be determined when the votes roll in. Right now, it's still in the queque. I've got some pretty good responses so far.

I've got one deconstructive criticism, one rant on the term "prodigal daughter", one question asking what OCD was, one asking me to rephrase something, two bitching me about my spelling, two voting "tes", and one voting that I be on the front page.

I'm okay with that, since it's an incredibly old story. The person who wrote it isn't me anymore.

I had another chat with former was-herro-wroshipped-but-became irritating cousin, who is no longer bears the title but still gets my goat.

I've learned to let some of the things she says slide. She will always look at me as the dense younger cousin who looks like she dropped out of a sewer shrub. It can be irritating as hell sometimes, but some people you just cannot toss out of the airlock. You just gotta keep `em in.

Unfortunately, majority of what constitues "some people" happen to be family.

Have I mentioned that she's on the other side of the world?

Anyway, my story will probably be up for voting either tomorrow or maybe sometime this week. It takes an incredible amount for it to actually be posted, so i'm not really hoping that this will be seen. It'll probably get dumped, but i'm just happy that someone read it. People who saw my old website will probably recognize it, but I don't think people come to see it anymore.

I'm doing the uncool thing by constantly viewing the comments, trying to see what they thought and basking in the limelight. So tomorrow (or maybe tonight) I will do the cool thing: write something new.

The only reason why I stuck with the comments for today is for revisions. They've asked me to re-write some stuff that I felt would compromise the essence of the story.

The person is in the verge of a nervous breakdown, or at the very least, an anxiety attack. She should sound warbly. So i'm not changing it.

The sad part is, if people don't get this, then it means I am not getting my point across. It's minus points for me, the writer. It's like falling into a stupid black hole of your own making.

But I am still going to leave it as it is and leave it's raw entity to be consumed by the unwashed masses. If they fark it, then so be it. It will make me learn.

Wednesday, January 14, 2004

Seriously addicted

I've become addicted to this online community called kuro5hin.

So far, i've posted one diary entry that seems interesting. It's a political jab at the latest presidential elections. Anyway, i'm just proud that people are reading my work.

Day three of supposed to be busy work week

I had a long talk with Xarra last night, skipping reading and some net time in order to talk. We haven't talked in weeks! so I though I should give her a ring and touch bases again. I'm a thoughtful friend...NOT.

I just hate not hearing from my friends. If we're from the same city, I feel like i'm neglecting them if I don't talk to them for more than a week or two. Usually this doesn't happen, since I get this surge of friendly-text every eight days or so, and I reply to people from all over on all sorts of stuff. The cycle lasts for days. Unfortunately, my cellphone load does not.

Anyway, during the beginning of the convo she told me that she hooked up with xtine. Gave her x-mas gift, ate out, arcade and stuff. Just hung out. All of it seems timely with my sudden bout of friend possessiveness but is in tune with my weird luck.

I told her straight out that I didn't want to talk about her at all...ever.

As it is, I hardly remember the friendship, it would be a shame if what remained would be spoiled by hatred.

She was my friend. If all else, I had eight years of my time invested with her. Throwing her completely out of me would mean throwing out eight years of my life too.

So I told Xarra that if I couldn't say good things about her, then I would rather not say or think much about her at all.

Thus we spent the night talking about Charmed, the romantic relationships of the Charmed ones--on and off the screen, romantic movies (Gidget and Sleepless in Seattle), and had a long consult with her on my story.

She likes it so far, but all I have are foundations and none of the fluff. It's a hard chair at this point, and though having something to sit on pretty much does the job, there's still along way to go before you get your bum some comfort.

There's still a lot of work to be done. I thought i'd blog my exploits, but now that they've encouraged me to publish, I'm rethinking my efforts. I can't do a blog on how I am writing this story when I won't give away anything.

It's nice that she listened to me even when she was sick, even if I was twisting my guts trying to pitch. I wasn't in my pitching mode, so I sounded awful. I'm beginning to realize what some writers say that you have to be in the right mood or at least know the moves in order to pitch your story.

She was a sport in listening to my rambles. It was a great thing I had my notes.

Tuesday, January 13, 2004

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.



Monday, January 12, 2004

I just love it when the americans get uber-paranoid.

Though it seems ridiculous for them to fear people reading the Farmers Almanac, their reactions are warranted in that they probably do the same thing.

Store information in books such as crossword puzzles, books, alamanacs and the publications...besides their other routine stuff. You see it in movies, but what are the chances that you'll get a "Mercury Rising"?

Steps are being taken to secure the country, sure, sure. Those measures were already there before 2001 yet 9/11 still happened. Now the airports aren't secure, freedom to congregate is being controlled, innocent people are being harassed...you can keep trying, but there will always be a hole.

I keep wondering if there was any merit to the rumor that the Philippines had alerted the CIA of the bombing but nobody believed them because we had such a sloppy intelligence network.

There's a fine line between gossip and intel in this country. I've learned to listen simply because you have no idea what it is that you are hearing. You go to a party expecting it to be boring, then go home with information that you never intended of learning.

Some are hot air, some turn out to be next weeks evening news.

The funny part is, you aren't exactly special. You just get to this stage where everyone you're acquianted with knows someone who, who knows someone, who knows someone...and pretty soon you know them too.

Kind of like Friendster. Only this time it's a more nefarious network.

Thursday, January 08, 2004

This week seems to be letter week.

Last night, I found a letter on my desk from an "Inspector General I.M. Anonymous" from Texas. I didn’t know anyone from Texas, and I didn't recognize the name.

Did I freak? Of course, I did.

It took me ten seconds to open the damn envelope, all the while thinking "Oh My God, they've found me! They're coming to get me! I'm going to jail! They'll drag me to an inquiry! Whatever I did, I’m sorry! I didn't know it was wrong, but I promise never to do it again! I'm sorrryyyyyy!!!!"

At which point, the letter came out and saw my first ever letter from Starfleet International--an amendment to last year's handbook and a sample ballot for the coming elections.



It occurred to me that I led way too much of an exciting life if I half-expected letters from people of frightening authority to write me. Although if you think about it, if they were really out to get me, I doubt if they’d bother to send me a letter.

Perhaps it's a bit too paranoid, but if you’ve got former NPA rebels unexpectedly dropping into your home and getting weird phone calls after you’ve visited the Interpol website, you can’t help but credit some of these wonky things.

Did I mention that those were just the tip of the damn iceberg?

Weird shit just seems to happen to me. Like getting fucking sick after getting my information packet from the University of New Zealand at the height of the anthrax mail scare. It turned out to be typhoid fever, but I had to take Ciprobay anyway, which is the same antibiotic that they gave to anthrax victims.

Funny, yes, but not really that amusing when it turns your brain into noodle every time you take it. I was blissfully lethargic for the next two weeks, which was great considering that I was like a baking clam for weeks before that.



Not all mails were freaky mail this week, though.

I got a long letter from Hannah, my best friend from when I was 12, whom I haven't talked to for close to eleven years! She doesn't have time to e-mail—environmental construction can do that—so she sent me good old snail mail. Thick too. She told me everything that happened to her in the past ten years—the good and the bad. She told that she knew I wouldn't judge her by what she said, nor would I be overwhelmed, since she was confident that the time and distance didn’t do much to change our friendship. Sent me a Christmas card too.

Enid, on the other hand, sent me e-mail—which she rarely does, since life sucks when you have a shifting schedule.

We talked about life, loves, money, and the ever present topic of boys—again. She asked me how I was with the idea of having a relationship this year, since everyone was always setting me up. Maybe I really wanted one already…In truth, I guess I do. I think I'm finally ready to let somebody else in.

Things seem to be pointing towards that direction, anyway.

I ran into an old classmate of mine—Rowena—from HS the other day. I had a working lunch, since I thought I’d just run over to McD's at the last minute to get some McNuggets to go and avoid the long lines. Anyway, I went out around one or so, and there she was rounding the building.

We just kind of looked at each other and went "hey!"

We chatted for about five minutes before we decided to just have lunch. We talked at McDs for thirty minutes, just catching up on each others lives. I told her my current state of things—a very good briefing, with important details included—and she did the same.

The funny part about the whole thing was that we were never really friends in HS. Besides that that time when she was my classmate in sophomore year, we never really talked. She was in another section and she was an officer in the HS military program. We were both active in school activities, so it was inevitable that we not be familiar with the other, but we had different friends and hung out with different people.

That we would just sit down, enjoy a good lunch then get along as if we were old friends is unusual…at least for me it is.

Oh well, here’s to new friendships. Talk more later. Have to go for lunch.

Wednesday, January 07, 2004

Listening to They Might Be Giants.

My mind is going numb from this never ending search for stuff that should go into the bluebook. I know it's a lot of work--heck, I see the papers in my desk and the nubers I have to call, so I know it's a lot of work. But sitting in front of the PC for so long...talking on the phone all day...

...One day, i'll learn to put an icon of a cross -eyed smiley with dribble running from his face right about here.

Anyway, Laarni asked me to do something rather amusing today: blog about our discussion just so she can see another person's opinion about today's discussion.

At about 3:40 this afternoon, Laarni and I did something very bad. We...went out and ran to the Mickey D's across the street to take a break from our office lives and consume minimal amounts of nutrious but fattening McDonalds fastfood.

It felt guilting, taking a break from work because we didn't have anything overy pressing to do. But at the same time I felt really great...free somehow. I know it's just the McDonalds across the street, but for some reason I felt like a kid again. Not someone who had this much her bank account and is perpetual fear of being destitute...did I mention the depleting ozone layer or the stupid way huge financial instiutions bully developing and third world nations?

Anyway, I felt like a teenager again, sitting in your corner McD's, enjoying my sundae with a friend, with absolutely no care in the world. And just to stay in the spirit of things, we talked about something perenially girl: boys.

Although at this point, I think I should stop calling them boys and start referring to them as men, seeing as my male buddies have grown up enough to be taking out insurance policies and dumb enough to start babies without ever planning them...errrr....oing back to the sundaes....

Laarni and I had gold ole fashioned girl talk.

It's been a while since I had that. Xarra is always busy, Lianne has Neil (or not), Charisse is so far away and Christine never cared much for things like these...well, she listened...

Anyway, we talked about our past non-relationships.

I'll say one thing, love might be universal, and there may be no such thing as an original concept anymore, but the idea that the two of us would share something in common just blows me.

We sat there, with my sundae and her two large fries, discussing one particular guy from our high school.

I guess it started with my mentioning my crush for Lester--last name ommitted because who the hell knows who might do a google search--and my stalker tendencies.

I did a lot of lame ass things when I was a 6th grade which got worse and--thankfully --peaked, when finished my freshman year in HS.

Needless to say, said activities were motivated by "young love" and my delusions of being an amateur detective. I still can't believe that I never kept a detailed diary when I was 12, yet wrote each and every dubious relationship-like move that my crush and this girl did. It's insane.

Or I was just being 12.

Laarni stumbled into her Magnificent Obsession when she was around the same age too.

Our stories are almost the same: we have this one guy in our life who's role we never could determine. We knew him when we were young, had these feelings and chance moments, but nothing ever came out of it. They had other relationships, we have other relationships, but this connection with this one guy never stopped.

As an aside...I'm being vague about this in case MY Magnificent Obessesion Par Deux decided to do a search on MY name. The chances are remote--he fucking hates Google--but given that i've had a lot of remarkable things happen to me this January I am not taking any chances...and i'm barely into the month.

Much excitement this year, I will have. Predict this, I will. Good excitement, I hope. Bad excitement...i'd rather be fuckass bored.

Going back...

Laarni and I talked mainly about unfinished business, because this is what it was. Unfinished business.

Looking at her...I must admit, i've never been a great listener. Through the years, i've gotten better, since some people seem to consider me their voice of reason--crazy, dribble face smiley--while some strangers feel compelled to our out their life stories to me.

This time, I really listened. I may have done it before, but this is the first time I've thought "am I giving this person enough of my undivided attention?"

I felt a bit guilty of injecting some of my experiences, but everything had to be done in quick bursts since we could only stay for 30 or so minutes. But given that Laarni and I have had some tiffs, it felt pretty good that she was talking to me. I keep having to remind myself that it's okay for friends to have some falling out sometimes, since Christine and I never fought in the whole eight years we were friends.

As she was talking, I kept noting how animated she became the more she talked about this person. She's with someone now, but until I brought it up, it never even came up.

But then again...he wasn't the topic of the whole conversation, the topic was Mr. Magnificent Obsession.

And he never goes away, right?

...

Sometimes I wonder how the other person is feeling. Just from watching Laarni, I know just how big a deal this is to her, but what about him? Countless of times, i've sat in front of Christine going over and over about how I felt with my Mr. Magnificent Obsession--or Mr. MO since it's getting to be annoying typing all that.

Mr. MO, was he thinking about me when I hemmed and hawed over our business? Does it even bother him? Does he even remember me even when he doesn't see me? The situation itself is shitty. How do you deal with a non-relationship? Or more importantly, how do you break it up? Because it seems like it will never end.

It's been a year since the non-break up, but Mr. MO and I are still working hard at rebuilding our friendship.

Some days, when we're alone, I try and wonder if I did the right thing. I don't want to look back to this five or ten years from now, and regret not ever trying.

But at the same time, I would forever regret it if I made a mistake. Being great friends, the margin of error is quite thin. Would it have worked out? Heck, did he ever really feel the same?

Some have said that "It's better to have loved than lost", but what if you did love and you lost your best friend? Was it worth the experience?

Or is this feeling better? To always be thinking of this "what if", nursing a perpetual crush and a romantic notion that your life could have been different if you had just had the courage to act on your intuition.

Is is worth that? For the rest of your life?

I used to think "Oh, this will end. I'll have someone, and I won't even recall ever having these feelings for him. Something i'll laugh about when everything ends..."

But Laarni has a boyfriend, yet it seems to have shown no signs of abating.

I may not be Laarni, but who says I can't be any different? I could have my own Robbie McNeill clone, but still feel this way when Mr. MO comes around. Then how would the current man in my life react to that?

Non-relationship my ass, I would still be bothered if my boyfriend/husband still harbored some pretty strong feelings for some girl.

Maybe you trust him, but it's never easy to share the heart of someone you love with someone from their past.

...

That's the frustrating part, I think. The past. This feeling, this guy, should have been part of my past, but for some reason he's stubbornly clinging to my present and seems to have every intention of staying for my future.

Sometimes I think it would have been easier if we--Mr. MO--had just gotten things done and over with. Go out for a couple of months until we got this out of our system...

I don't think i've helped Laarni much, even if I listened and tried to offer some bits of information. If anything, i've just made her think about it more.

On the way in, I told Laarni that we should make this into a New Year's resolution. Niether of us are into making them, but this one seems priority enough to merit one.

Since Kahless, I can't feel like this forever!

Do an outline...make a workplan, i'd joked to her. I wonder how one could accomplish doing something like this up.

...

Sometimes, in me and Mr. MOs numerous night outs, i'm tempted to just lean over and kiss him. To just let it all go. If it fails, it fails. If he responds...What will I do? What then?

Can't I ever win?!













This year's horoscope prediction:

Everything will be workable this year. At least the agile Monkey will not give up before trying every angle. There will be success even in impossible ventures, there will be inventions and improvisations galore. Politics, diplomacy, high finance and business will be engaged in one big poker game with everyone trying to out-bluff each other. A rather amusing and exciting time in which everyone will be given the opportunity to try his hand at the game. No direct confrontation here, as the Monkey is one who can laugh off his mistakes and improve his bargaining prowess in the next round.

This is a year that will find us all trying to get a better deal by outsmarting the other man. It is hard to keep track of who is winning, as the right hand has no idea of what the left hand is up to. One thing is for sure, this will be an extremely progressive time. We will all steam ahead, and even if we do not apply ourselves to the utmost, we will be carried forward by the surging tide of the Monkey's natural talent for learning and advancement.

The lucky imp of a Monkey who rules this year will urge us to gamble, speculate and exploit risky but ingenious options. If you are quick on the draw, this year will yield huge dividends. It is definitely not a year for the faint-hearted or slow-witted. The Monkey gives no concessions and asks none in return. If there is a recession, the year of the Monkey will quickly put an end to it. Business will skyrocket under his optimistic and shrewd influence. The Monkey's resourcefulness will amaze and confound everyone.

It is very interesting to note that America was born in the year of the Fire Monkey, 1776. Perhaps this explains her phenomenal growth and fantastic achievements within such a short span of time.

It is said that the Monkey's year will bring many new and unconventional ways of doing things. The motto of this year should be: "Don't take No for an answer!"

.....

This is where we all yell Go Monkeys!

Tuesday, January 06, 2004

Alas, my adventures with MySQL have failed. Miserably. Horribly. Ended fuck-ass badly...at least for tonight.

I'm pretty sure Rhem is going to laugh his ass off when he finds the mess I left in my ftp folder...or he might reach over the PC and choke me to death through Yahoo Messenger.

I did some gratifying work today. I went to Miriam College to get some information for the Bluebook, chatted with person who runs Swarmplan and the Environmental Studies Institute, then hurried off to the office to do more work.

Called people, verified some stuff. Checked who was still alive and who wasn't. Found out which NGO's could no longer pay their bills.

I spent the whole afternoon listening to 70's OPM, which Laarni and I both like. She shared her one and only VST & Company file and I spent the rest of the afternoon bobbing my head to Awitin Mo, Isasayaw Ko. I'm poor, so I still can't buy the CD.

So I settled for Laarni's Basil Valdez MP3s.

I tried looking for Claire Dela Fuente, who sounds so much like Karen Carpenter that it's freaky. My dad claims that she even sounds better. I don't have such a musical ear, but her voice is crisper, firmer, clearer than Karen Carpenter's.

...Over ten dollars for CDs?!?! I CD prices stateside are a hecka more expensive.

Anyway, the two of us were experiencing some lag in the late afternoon and were killing time staring at our screens and sneaking yahoo messages. I was still in my ongoing search for training sites, not to mention calling people who never seem to be there and almost never leave assistants--or they do, but somehow took the assistants brain with them. She...well, she was not doing a lot of anything on the pm. We don't get our new assignments until tomorrow, so things are still kind of slow.

We ended up chatting about our favored OPMs.

We both agree on the time, but like different singers. She tends to the balladers while I seem to like OPM disco. I'm at an impasse with the folk singers, since Ican never seem to define which ones are folk singers and which ones are balladers. They always seem to have folk songs and ballads, mostly mixed together in one album.

She mentioned Christina "Tina" Paner and I just about died laughing. I didn't even know she had a song!

Good grief, are we that old? I can't seem to remember these things anymore.

For a brief period in my life--mainly December '02 to around March '92--I got hooked on That's Entertainment. I'd include a link but apparantly nobody wants to talk about them. They're probably all in denial, much like my conyo cousin who was into the show for the whole run.

My fav was the Wednesday group, which did have Tina Paner, but the show was on during the times that I did homework--back in the day when I really did do my homework--so I didn't pay much attention to the tele. I only stopped when the dancing segments came out.

I told Laarni to search for a Yahoo Group and to join. She's still a fan, while I am feeling a bit ridiculous with having ten yahoo groups...get a life?




Saturday, January 03, 2004

The advert currently running on my blog is for blimps, since I wrote the "Goodyear Blimp" in one of my entries.

It always fascinates me how a bot will scan my entry and automatically pick up what it thinks should be placed up on the sign up there.

Anyway, one of the adverts is about RC Blimps, a mini remote controlled blimp that you can get for around 30 dollars. The tag is "For you or for someone special". I guess this is what you get when you don't have the cash to propose through the kickass blimp.

I wonder how that'll look like, buzzing over the heads of people in a mall, making this weird whirring sound, while the words "Will you marry me?" are pasted on the mini-blimp?

Oh well, you can always pretend that it's from far away.

...

I am currently looking at my The Best of Life Book. I've always been fascinated with it, though some of the pictures scared me when I was a child. I think I was around six when we first got that book, and I'd always skip the photographs taken during the numerous wars.

But the book is pretty helpful now, as well as this website of some photographer named Jesse Kalisher. He wrote a pice on how to take great pics using your digicam on The Screensavers website, so I decided to check out his site. It was great seeing that he specialized mostly in BW landscape shots. More people to learn from!

I'm down to one more weekend before I go back to work and really start cracking on the ISWM bluebook. I think i've already collected a lot of numbers and it;s high time that I start calling all of it. Add all the embassies that I have to call up...I should be tied on the phone for the next two weeks.

Which is why I am trying to catch up on my readings this weekend. Maybe for the next few months I will begin cracking down on my Linux and GNU readings in between snapping up shots and editing them and the website. Then I'm going to have to schedule a weekend where I can go take some pictures that isn't of the office, my stuff, or my house.

Am I starting to sound busy?

I'm also going to start scanning for places where I can submit my work--writing, art, pics.

I'm still getting over the fact that I don't want to be a scientist or a doctor or an engineer. I always thought that doing something artistic for a living was just too unstable and not to mention frivolous.

But when I look at these BW photographs, I realize just how much of faith and humanity it captures. Even nature. Or even just movies. If a movie can make you laugh and forget for an hour and a half, then the work is done.

There was this ep of BBC: Talking Movies that absolutely amused me. They were featuring Mona Lisa Smile and just went through it. Sure, it was tastefully ripped apart--they are british and this is Julia Roberts we are talking about--but the fact that they magnified the movie to such blockbuster proportions...it just amuses me.

So there was nothing new, who cares? When I saw the trailer I didn't want to see it in the hopes of watching a revolutionary film. I just wanted to know the story, be entertained.

Maybe it's a shallow way to look at movies, but at the bottom of it all is: it's just a story.

So there are others who want to make a stamp in the human condition, great. You have those wanting to make cinematic history, cool.

But does it always have to be like that?

I guess these days they do have to be, since not only do you have brainiac critics but movie studios who just want to make a lot of money. I'm pretty sure they weren't aiming to elevate people's senses when they produced Titanic, but that made a lot of waves (pardon the pun).

...

I suppose this is me just trying to catch that ever elusive break in my life. Where everything is just so dark and intense and fast. In so many ways, I've always been the critic and I was always in search of that something that would drum the next big change.

But if there is one thing i've learned, it's that things change in their own time and in there own way, and no matter how much you fool yourself, you will never be able to control it.

Oh well.










Friday, January 02, 2004

Will making facelifts to site.

Will be hoping this turns out well.

Will be seeing if it will.

Checked out cars, fics, and saddle shoes.

Mark and I spent hours talking and creating odd shots. We were tooling around with the night function and kept trying to outsmart the other by taking stolen shots.

That took three lousy hours of duh-discussion over spaghetti (with liberal doses of garlic powder, so we have vampire repell for the whole evening) before we decided to call it a night.

Anyway, he was on his way out when he passed by Harry and decided to take a look. I was in the kitchen putting away some of our stuff so when I came out he was already in the car tinkering with some stuff.

Suffice to say, he went home much later than he should.

This was, I think, his first time to sit in the drivers seat of a VW bug...or his first time to sit inside a VW bug.

He got a great kick out of the original panel and the knobs. Not to mention the lack of a dashboard, which still gets to me.

I was 16 when I first sat inside Harry as the driver. We'd switched to the 80's Corona when I was 14, so I don't remember what it's like to be in the drivers seat--or in it, for that matter.

Everytime I get in, I feel like i'm in a spaceship or a really small shuttle. Everything is so close and compact that you really do feel like you're in your own personal car bubble. The lack of the dashboard just makes the ride a bit more intimate, with the instruments and steering wheel and the gears so near, they really do feel like an extension of your own body.

We did a little inspection of the interiors with the a flashlight, since we didn't want to start the car or waste the battery. Noted some of the peeling paint and rusting metal. Checked out the interiors and wondered what would look best. I have dark black vinyl which I am thinking of changing into a light grey or cream.

After a rather long while of turning ancient knobs just to see what they would do--I know what since it's my car but he doesn't--we set out to check the cars exteriors.

We spent an additional hour looking under the hood, inspecting the tires, the tint, etc, etc. Then we mulled over a new paint job and the idea of whether I should decal or not decal my beloved Harry.

We both agreed that it was more classic VW to decal.

I know have a list the length of my arm on things I have to pay for in restoring my beautiful car. I am not giving up lomo, but something tells me that I will have to put rewiring and a little body work on my car before I go back to film and start snapping away on my much coveted LCA.

And now I have a new item to covet: Bass Saddle shoes in BW.

I've sort of decided that this year will be my 40's/50's year, with a little 60's and a Marc Jacobs meets Carolina Herrera twist.

Okay, so that's a bit schizo, but the Marc Jacobs I threw in for the modern edge and the Carolina for the challenging modern yet still oh-so classic look.

But it's definitely 40's and 50's year...or maybe even forever!

I used to think that I was born in the wrong era. When I was a kid and I watched all those women looking so pressed and formal in their ponytails and bobby socks, I thought "that's it, that's what I want to look like!"

In retrospect, I think I gravitated towards that since my face was sort of like the in thing of that era. Small features--though with an absetn button nose.

I loved the way they talked, their affairs, and how everything seemed new and starting. It seemed like all the new theories in the humanities and psychology came out. The first modern steps towards art started drumming about.

The music and the birth of rock and roll. The manners and everyone's disposition.

...

Of course, that idea that everything was a pat Normal Rockwell has changed now that i've gotten older. The era itself might have spat me out had I been born during that time.

I wouldn't be enjoying a lot of the luxuries that I hold do dear now: equal rights, more open parents, a more vocal generation, and the freedom choosing how to express myself without judgement.

Not to mention technology that I have gotten used to: computers, the net, water heater, eco friendly air conditioning, and colored television. :)

I still love the nostalgia that the era presents, though. Life seemed easier, even though the war had just ended and people were left wondering how to get on with their lives.

I'm pertty sure that people went through a lot of dog days behind those peepy smiles, but I guess it doesn't matter. To me, the illusion that they surrounded themselves with provides adewuate shielding to my younger eyes.

So this year is 40's and 50's year.

Jeez, I just hope that I don't pull out my album 10 years later and think "Jeebus, there's my 80's era right there. FUCK."


Thursday, January 01, 2004

For all the time that I have been online, I have never once checked out the Top Gear website. A huge oversight considering that I love that show.

I surfed over three days ago and though it makes for a woefull companion to such a smashing show, I take what I can as a Top Gear fan.

Yeah, I am a car person. Cars and motorbikes, though with the ten thousand things in my mind I can never seem to work up a respectable obssession.

I'm the type of person who, when I really like something, will just try and learn everything that she can about that certain something. Christine once found me reading an old car book. Nothing wrong about that for a car buff, but I was trying to see if I could memorize the tire types and brands.

From a forensic point of view (which I now know I will never use) memorizing treads are great. As a car buff, it will probably get me through several car shows. As an average reasonable person...uh, I think I stopped being an average reasonable person a long time ago. Like, when I was five.

Anyway, they made a review on the Hyandai Coupe, which is the only brand new car that I want to buy if ever I had the money. They sat it alongside a Lexus and sad to say for the Lexus fans, the Lexus bombed. I'm not really a fan of luxury cars (except for Mercedes, which I am partial to) so I really wasn't spurned by the bad review.

But they loved the Hyundai! And so I am vicariously living the car though them.

Oh darn, my friends are here.