Land of the Loved

I always feel weird when I don't get any e-mails.

I've gotten so used to getting mail from someone that when I don't, it completely drives the shit out of me. Like I've dropped out of the earth and no one fucking missed me.

(Oh yeah, for those who censor...yes, I cuss. On this blog. A LOT.)

Nothing today, nada one. Not even a lousy news alert from Google.

Not that i'm surprised. Today was a blah day. I did a little communication work for a project this morning. Tried to work on the script, but was othewise uninspired. I ended up calling Mark for a favor and also some stuff I need for research. Then Charisse called and proceeded to unravel, but we got cut off before things could deccelerate to anything close to her usual histrionics (which means she's doing better)

Even my workout was a bit off today. Maybe it was the humidity, but at 27 minutes, I was ready to drop. I tripped over the stepper a total of six times, which made me feel like a total idiot. On top of that, I have an allergy. My hands itch and I don't know why. Which means, I have to play detective again and see if anything in my routine has changed.

Ah well. At least it wasn't a totally bad day. It was a boring day, but it wasn't a disaster. Not even a four.

And a four to me is that one time where the car I was on blew a tire on my way to school, then the bus I had transferred to broke down, and the FX I then transferred to got rear ended pretty hard which caused him to ram into the vehicle in front of him.

Now that was a shitty day.

Invites...

Gmail has suddenly given me six invites...I don't know why. Maybe people don't want them as much anymore? Or maybe it's because I've been using their service more.

Gmail is pretty cool though. It automatically refreshes for you, which is a pretty cool service. The google-news alert isn't bad too.

Anyway...I don't know what to do with it. If any of you want one, leave a request on the comment. I'll hand them out...it's weird seeing those big red letters on the side.

Censored...

Depending on how I understand it, I think I just got slammed in my fanfic for saying "hell"...Or for using the Lord's name in vain.

I hardly think "hell" qualifies for a curse word, considering the more colorful variety floating around out there. Back in the workshop, we had to write a line that had to show a smattering of curse words, and for some reason no one was able to do it...at least, no one was fluent in cursing in English.

With me being pretty liberal with the word fuck, it's hard to for me to look at words like hell now and not think of it as mild.

I'm trying to cut down on the cursing though. In truth, I don't really swear a lot. It may not show in this blog, but I usually don't. Not a lot of people know I can cuss, and most of the time I'm with them.

When i'm with my two "brothers" or with Luis, I tend to talk a little shit. Talking to Xarra...well, maybe some. Bitch is a favorite word, mainly because it's so widely descriptive.

But most of the time, I'm with people who don't know I can curse, and would probably have a heart attack once I start potty-talking.

I find it odd though, that this girl isn't at all bothered by smut but is alerted because I said the word hell...I wonder what she'd say if I tried a few colorful Klingon phrases???

Things that could bite you in the ass...

A good example of quotable things that you thought were smart but turn out to be really stupid ten fucking things later:

"It [LSD] opened my eyes. We only use one-tenth of our brain. Just think of what we could accomplist if we could only tap that hidden part! It would mean a whole new world if the politicians would take LSD. There wouldn't be any more war or poverty or famine."
*Paul McCartney, 1967*

Temptation

Yesterday I started my whole 40-minute-a-day stepper routine in the hopes that I might acquire a ripped pair of abs in time for my birthday, when I will hopefully getthe courage to get the navel ring that I've been telling everyone that I am going to have for the past two fucking years.

Luis has given me horror stories on how he vicariously live through the pain when he accompanied several friends who got their navels pierced and offered to hold their hands.

I asked him if he'd come with and hold my hand. And like the gentleman that he is, he refused.

Besides my newfound workout, I have also decided to tackle my ADD my going on the two-week you're-not-eating-anything-not-from-nature diet.

It's basically all water, no dairy, no caffeine, no sugar, no chocolate, no yellow fruit, no fruit juice, no processed meat, no food coloring, no fried foods and most definitely no junkfood for the next two weeks.

The numbers are pretty low, promising only 20% of ADD kids improvement, but who knows, you could be one of the 20%. And even if doesn't work, it's a pretty good diet that keeps the toxins out.

After two weeks, you're supposed to re-introduce the foods one by one and see how it affects you. Do certain foods make you lethargic? Spacey? Give you allergies?

I thought that this would fit very well with my current eating habits where I hardly drink sodas, I rarely have caffeine, I don't eat chips , we don't have any processed meat and my mom tries to avoid food coloring.

Chocolate and dried foods would probably be my main problem here, and if I managed to give up Coke--which used to be 75% of my lifes blood--I could give up anything.

I was determined. I was driven. I had focus. Yeserday was a day that I didn't look like I had ADD. I was going to last...

Until 1:30, when my mom suddenly brought home a box of Country Style pastries, with three double chocolate chip donuts for me.

Which then reminded me that this Wednesday we were scheduled to take out my grandmother for lunch at Magnolia House, an old ice cream parlor that I hadn't been to since I was six.

Dazed and confused with two donuts in hand--donuts that my mom hardly, ever, ever buys--my dad calls and tells us not to cook for dinner. He was bringing home pizza.

And to top it off, he even bought Double Dutch ice cream, another rare deal.

The only thing missing were my parents suddenly buying bags of chips with four different dips, eating them over litters of softdrinks and finishing off the night with an expresso and a pound of milk chocolate.

I thought my head was going to explode from all that contraband.

Both my parents are pretty strict with what they eat. I wouldn't call them health buffs--after all, my dad smokes--but they both have the young genes and they don't want to ruin that.

And why would you? If you're in your early fifties but both look like you're late thirties, you would do anything to keep that advantage. Which means, we have no caffeine, no softdrinks, no junkfood and no processed meat.

Unless you count today, where they bought three liters of soda to stock up.

It was ublievable. It's as if the universe is conspiring against me: ket's make Kriszia's diet go harder!

Argh!!!!!

That Shit-Eating Grin

I am in love with the Internet Wayback Machine.

Anyone who's ever been a researcher will understand that. Sure, it doesn't have everything, and if you're into fanfics you'll be frustrated that it doesn't archive .txt files. But hell, just the mere act of finding something that you thought was lost is just...heavenly.

For the past few days, I have been researching like crazy for my articles.

Strike!

It's an all out war. The mother and I are not talking.

The bad thing about this is that...we are not talking. The good thing about this is...we are not talking!

It is amazing! PEACE. Today, she didn't even knock on my door to harass me out of my room. For this Sunday at least, I can do whatever I want, Thank God.

Respite!!!!

Blast from the past

I was digging through the files I recovered from my old, old hard disk when I found this poem.

I don't normally do poetry. My favorite poet is Rilke, and unless I am talking about David Duchovny is speedoes, there's not even a wink of a chance that i'll think of something resembling that line.

Anyway, I think I was pissed off at someone who remarked that I was such a bitch for being waif.

I still haven't gone past the 100 lbs, I am still underweight, but my structure has changed considerably since I wrote this. And no, I no longer am waif. I've gained a couple of pounds since then...Yes, I have.

And to my friends...I understand that I am still thin. I get it! I get it!

THIN

i’m not bulimic,

neither am I anorexic

forgive me for looking like this

i’m just thin

i’m not on a diet

I don’t pig out just to spite you

I don’t work out because I don’t need to

no, i’m just thin

I am a size zero

but just like you I can’t find clothes

mediums are all they have and they don’t fit me

i’m just too thin

I don’t have breasts

you seem to have plenty

which is sad because guys like cleavage

i’m really too thin

I do have the waif look

like models, i’m lean like a pole

but they’re also pretty

me, i’m just thin

Run and Hide

The parental units are in a shitty mood. And here I am, caught at home, with no fucking money and loads of work to do in preparating for the coming week.

Heaven help me.

A Box Of Rain

Off to church again today.

I still haven't figured out the Linux problem...but then again, I haven't posted yet either. I spent a great deal writing my book and Chapter 15/14 of my fanfic, lest I lose readers for this long hiatus.

I'm making a deal with myself that i'm going to update that thing consistenly, maybe evey week, to simulate the difficulties of writing for a real series. Of course, on a real show you've got a team of writers as opposed to one writer, so that can drastically change the dynamic of a story.

Two heads may be better than one, but alas, not all great heads think alike, especially writers.

I honestly don't know what's harder: writer your own character, or writing for an established character.

An aquaintance of mine that writes for Image told me that when you write for an established series, they mail you a list of rules for each characters. i.e. Storm only speaks in full sentences.

If you don't know who Storm is, you are either: old, not a Patrick Stewart fan, or severely deprived

(My mom is old and deprived, though she is a Patrick Stewart fan. It's not her fault that there are only two remotes in the house, where my dad has one and I own the other.)

A sociologist once called fanfiction as this generations form of new literature. Pop literature, at least.

Makes you wonder what works will be on the archives of a 24th century library. I'm pretty sure that there were other playwrites besides Shakespeare during his day, other books besides Canterbury Tales. I mean, the Greek libraries couldn't have just stocked transcripts of their philosophers and Mythologies, right?

If the case about fanfics are true, then a lot of bored houswives who just decided to pen down their imagined adventures and sexual fantasies, are destined to be future lauriates.

I wonder how their profiles will read?

Wonderful World of Linux

Day One and i'm already having teething problems.

I spent the whole day at Rhem's watching him tinker around with my PC. A trojan managed to sneak in my PC the other day, thankfully the firewall wouldn't let it out.

So as we scanned, scanned, scanned we found an old virus lurking from when I linked my ancient hard disk--circa `95--to my PC to retrieve some old but inspired data. The virus spread on to a few folders, imbedding some nice porn links that I didn't know about.

After assuring Rhem that I didn't do net porn and that smutty fanfics were the only thing in my PC that can sear your eyes out--we set out to backing up my data, cleaning some partitions, and finally getting down to "Linux business".

We decided to keep my training wheels and keep my Windows partition, though I put my foot down and refused yet again the upgrade to Windows XP. I've heard the horror stories with the newer service packs and I was fine with my Win2000 thanks, let's not complicate things.

So onto decisions on what Linux version to use. I almost went for Suse, but Rhem told me that I had the extra brain cells to at least manage Fedora.

I had RedHat in my partition before, their last version before they decided to sell out. I couldn't figure out how to mount anything or connect to the net, and with work I didn't have time to read manuals and figure things out. Plus, it loaded on a shell and I lost my notebook with the instructions. I monkeyed around with Knoppix, but didn't have time to read up on setting partitions.

So yes, this is my second comeback to Linux, but this time I was determined to just use it. I finally decided on Fedora...and somehow couldn't connect to the net.

Sigh.

I'd tried installing it before, on my own, but for some reason it wouldn't work. So when it loaded at Rhem's place, I thought we at least had the basics licked.

But no, for some reason Fedora can't detect my modem. So I can't do any updates nor can I connect to the net.

Incidentally, if anyone out there has a free driver for a hsflinmodem-5.03.27 distributed by Conexant for Linux-please tell me. I am begging. I don't do well with message boards, though with Linux that's really your only guide.

It wouldn't even detect Rhem's DSL. :( So home I went, with the two of us determined to find, find, find that driver.

So yes, i'm glad that I kept that Windows boot option.

But I planned on getting my job done on Open Office. Hey, the least you can do right?

Wrong. Because my Fedora was configured on Rhem's monitor, so now it won't detect my monitor. The shell loaded ok, but when the GUI was about to come up, the screen went blank and I almost banged my head on my keyboard.

So if anyone would be kind enough to point me out to a nice X11 tutorial or x0rg.config tutorial or link, it would be very much appreciated.

As a consolation, I plunked in my new Knoppix CD and did some stuff. Of course, with it on CD, working there felt like running on neck high water.

I finally gave up at around 1am and switched to windows.

So now I'm trolling the message boards, looking for something helpful. I'm not giving up. It's mostly patience and persistence that fuels most Linux users, since you have to adjust to everything.

Like, wondering if my camera supports Linux (it fucking should) and searching for a new driver for my printer.

The weird thing about it is that I'm enjoying it. I've got a lot to learn and half the time I feel like a total poser for wanting to learn all this stuff without totally being into it (and give up my other obsessions?) but it's pretty satisfying to have at least some semblance of control on your OS.

At least when you have a problem you have a whole community of users to ask. If Windows crashes the only thing you can do is chew on your hand and cuss Bill Gates.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

I love my blog.

It's one of the last things that keeps me from going insane. You rant on a forum that some people actually read, and you feel good.

It has survived my mother, le cuz de annoys, my boss, Christine...and now we have my friend the zombie, who has come back from the dead to come haunt us with her excess baggage.

If you're reading this...you nearly sent all of us to therapy. ALL.

Do not do anything rash, guilt will set back our lives even if we don't want to. Stand up and pick it up yourself. Stop with the angst, it's not your allure. And quit getting into trouble so people will be forced to take care of you.

We are sick of it.

Another Pop Quiz

Thanks to "Joseph" again for the link.

Seems to hit the mark, but right now my mind is till reeling with the fact that my grandmother almost gave me a sex talk this afternoon.

I managed to cut her off--politely. Though a part of me felt like doing a little educating of my own.

So in light of it all...this quizilla seems fitting. Very cosmo, but fitting.


Aphrodite/Eros


?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

One Month And Counting

I've started started the birthday count today.

I know, still pretty early, but I thought I should put in a few days extra to get used to it.

-Went to my aunts for a visit. She's doing okay. Back on remission--her third one. It just occured to me that breast cancer runs on both sides of my family. I could use that genetic mapping technology right now.

-Saw a VW Kharmann Gia. It belongs to one of the sons of the Marcos' former lawyers. It used to be this stately maroon color. He drove it in for a cheap ass paint job in sky blue. It looks like a matchbox car dipped in poster paint. He should be condemned.

-My lenses have gone up again. Need to go back to opthamologist and have my eyes checked. Been having headaches. Not good.

-Pricked on a hairy caterpillar while feeding the dog. Have swelling the size of a pancake on my thigh. Can't really walk, but I can complain. OWWWWW.

-Have a bruise the size of a tennis ball on my shin. Don't know how I got it. Very sore. OWWWW.

-Mark and JP calls me semi-wasted on the cellphone begging for my moms spaghetti. At fucking one in the morning. I told them I had a new thing--Fast and the Furious Fanfic and Vin Diesel's ripped abs--and cannot be torn away from my computer.

-Will switch to Linux tomorrow. Am discussing boot options with Rhem. Don't really want to have Windows anymore--it fucking keeps conking out, so what's new--but he doesn't want me to go flying without a safety net. I say fuck it. I need to get my lazy ass to learn and this is the best way to do it.

-Some bitch sent me a virus. Which is why I am doing a system wipe along with the new OS installation.

-4 1/2 more months before Christmas.

Strange Straight World

There must be something wrong with me.

During moments of boredom, i've taken to reading over random profiles on my friendster network. For some reason, nearly a third of the guys I think is cute is fucking gay.

It's so weird, clicking on a pic of someone interesting and seeing those lines: dating men.

What is wrong here...what the FUCK is wrong here?

Seriously, this has me worried. I'm beginning to wonder if I need some sort of analysis. How embarassing would it be if you ended up hitting on some gay guy...and all these guys on the pic seem deceptively straight.

A friend of mine once told me that one of his HS pals had this thing for hitting on transvestites. For some reason, he couldn't tell that they were trevvies even if they had an adam's apple the size of a golf ball and looked like a linebacker. Maybe he was latently gay???

Do I have a thing for gay men? Is this some sort of kink that I'm not aware of? Is this going to be a problem??? Retribution for those weird smut that i've been reading?

A Ghost To Haunt Me

I was finishing my job application requirements today when a call from a very unexpected person came in.

An old, old friend of mine called. We hadn't talked for close to two years.

I could hear my mom hovering outside my door as the two of us talked. She answered the call and was just as surprised as I was.

The reason the two of us hadn't talked for so long was because her problems were beginning to sap my energy. I was still recovering from my depression and had just made the biggest decision of my life. I didn't think I was up to dealing with her monster problems.

And they were always monster problems.

So one day...I just stopped receiving her calls. I lied, made myself scarce, or sometimes I screened and didn't answer.

It was a mean thing to do, but it was...at the time, it was the smart thing to do.

Now, two years later, she's back and it's the same thing. The same old problems, only with a stronger intensity.

Only I was different.

I told her about my life right now, how I was doing, that I was no longer friends with Christine, how our other friends were doing...

I used to be the best counselor. A lot of people came up to me with their problems, and I was the girl with the coffee and seemingly all the answers. Or at least most sense.

I was a lot of other people's crutch, so when the depression hit, they didn't know why I was suddenly incapable of rendering my services as the wisened listener. And of course, none of them were willing to listen. Almost all of them did not understand why I wasn't up to dealing with them.

I told her that. I think she felt guilty, but to be honest she was more concerned of what was happening right now.

Her name was posted on a school messageboar, which brokered a string of topics about her supposedly loose reputation...they called her a slut.

The words were out of my mouth before I even thought of it and I think my explanation shocked her.

It was all old news and quite frankly, a long time coming. I never told her because I always assumed that she knew what people were saying behind her back. It's only fair. You behave a certain way, so you should be responsible for all the gossip that centers around you.

She told me she wanted some closure:from her ex boyfriend, to her ex friends...I told her that these people weren't ready to deal with things yet. That they were--for a change--dealing with their life. That the only closure she was ever going to get was if she moved on, because these people had gone to other problems without her.

Life has changed. I found myself both glad and guilty for being so blunt.

Two failed suicide attempts, that's all she gave for assurance that she was going to be okay. She wasn't up for a third though I don't think I was fine with that. Some people always go for the charm, especially when you least expect it.

I hung up after hitting another all time low. My mother came in and harassed me about the phone conversations and the status of the new job hunt, which resulted in a fight.

An old ghost is back to haunt me...and I have a really bad headache to prove it.

Damn...I Shouldn't Have Said That

Tonight I told my aunt and her friend Raquel that I once got so loaded with gin that I jumped off a bed and smacked into a wall.

Not the kind of party story you tell people but severe social drinker that I am, my head was already swimming with the lone glass of red wine with my tongue languidly floating alongside it.

I guess some things you can never really learn even through experience.

Managing Your Life

I've been waking up earlier for the past week.

My body seems to be comfortable with the new schedule, so hopefully i'll be able to get my ass out of bed and run. I'll be taking the puppy out, since the vet told us that he needs more exercise besides running around the yard tearing the whole place apart.

His current project is digging out Bambi's bones. My mom isn't thrilled, but it does have us amused.

Next week I will be submitting my assignment for my second interview while working on building my writing portfolio. I'll be planning what kind of pieces to write, research, then write them, off to edit, before I start banging on doors and setting up appointments.

I've managed to snag a pro-bono photography gig for Rhem's theater group. I will be doing background stills for their plays souvenir programs.

Amazingly, this is the only year where I've managed to cross out some things out of my long list of goals. Yes, I have goals. Not long term kind of goals but more of a to-do list.

Run a marathon. Standing in front of people and yelling "shit! I went through high school without growing any tits!". Simply being able to write.

Things are, finally moving along.

Puking

Ever had that feeling of wanting something so badly that you feel like throwing up?

I had a job interview last week. It's probably the only job that I've ever applied for that I really want to get. Badly.

I've never really tried out for a job that I really liked, I was either forced to go or I went because I desperately needed the money. Or sometimes, I liked the position, but I didn't like the environment I was going to work in. As a result, i've turned down a lot of jobs simply because it didn't feel right.

But the moment I scouted this job, I knew that I wanted to work with these people, for this company.

It didn't matter that it was only a temp job and paid very little. That it was a long commute, even longer work hours, and a very hectic schedule. I wanted it.

So badly that now my brain is shutting down and all it can say is "shit."

Ah, shit.

Mirror-mirror and David Duchovy

Today I went to my very first acting exercise.

Rhem snagged me a spot on his alma maters college theater workshop, where he is a member and so-called mentor.

First things first: I don't think i'll be an actor.

I did okay for my first try. I did a lot of stuff that surprised even myself, though half the time I was worried about shouting so much that I would hawk out some phlegm (I had a nasty cold). I did this one exercise called "three rooms" which was well received. The instructions were to see something pleasant in one room, great in the next, and fantastic on the last.

I envisioned getting into the Laker lockers room and succeedingly watching Kobe Bryant, Shaquille O'Neal and then Luke Walton in the shower.

They thought that my reaction to the first was pretty good, that I rushed the second, while the last was absolutely "fun", "fresh!", "wonderful" and "realistic".

Because of that, virtual strangers wrote something nice to my "backstabbing paper".

The last time I had the backstabbing exercise was at a leadership seminar in high school. I got plenty of responses, even though they all synonymously said "weird" and "she's okay."

I didn't get as much people to sign my back, but so far three people think i'm talented, one said I was "sure of myself...hehehe" and the rest remarked that I was "fun", "friendly", "nice", and a rather surprising "mukhang mabait!"

Dude, is it the face? Because the people at the Tagaytay Workshop kept referring to me as "the sweet little thing"...though not so much after I yelled at Perds. Then it became "don't mess with the sweet little thing".

The most interesting thing though was the two person touch exercises that we did.

I ended up being partners with this really cute kid whom a lot of girls thought was hot. The magic of beging selected was due to an exercise where I yelled at a group of people that I had no tits but my ass looked great from a motorcyle.

And he was a cute kid, and what dumb luck that most of the exercises included writing each others names with our fingers on our backs and our entire address (country and zip code included) on each others tummies and inner thighs.

And what a wonderful flirt that kid was too! You can tell that he's done a lot of trolling on weekends.

In between some serious letter writing--where he hung onto my leg because I'd suddenly become "ticklish" (Ha. Ha. Ha.)-- he looked at me with those doe eyes and asked me my year and major.

And stupid me actually told the truth.

I told him I went to another school, that I was done with college, that I was a frigging psych major.

He smiled and said he was a freshman from a small international school majoring in Drama because his entrance exam was too low.

And just for pities sake I told him I was turning 24 next month...and watched the light die in his 18 year old eyes.

Bitch.

Not that I would have gone for this fucking child but did it have to feel like we were seperated by a couple of milleniums?

Suddenly, the people from One Tree Hill are all younger than me. The NBA draft are all a bunch of high school kids. I have a life, a job, an insurance policy...he didn't watch the X-files because he was fucking six years old when it debuted!

On the next two exercises he was so nice and accomodating that he should've just called me Gran.

WTF?

This was the first time I ever felt my age. Ever. People often mistake me for a college freshman or sometimes even a junior in high school, but dammit, since when did 24 become ancient!

I think all the bands are beginning to sound like Maroon Five. All the shows are about teenagers and their hyperbolic angst. I actually disapprove of what some of the high school kids are wearing and I have no idea what a Nokia 6600 is.

Please, just one thing: let me be the cool mom who knows how to program the entertainment system and hack into her kids computers.