Honestly

Yung totoo, mukha na ba akong tinutubuan ng pera sa ilong?

Matingkad bang Lacoste ang mga damit ko at Balenciaga ang dala kong bag? Wtf, di pa nga ako nakakakita ng Balenciaga sa totoong buhay.

Mukha bang pinapacheck ko ang skin ko sa dermatologist? Girl, Pond's lang yan.

Sa tingin mo ba magTatagalog ako kung hindi ako seryoso? I meant it when I said this before, and I mean this even more now.

Just because I'm single doesn't mean I spend all my money on gadgets and fancy clothes. Well, I don't have a PSP even when I can. I have responsibilities and a lot of it involves a future that I can't even assure that I can get to. So don't come to me for money like I'm your ATM card. Do you even care that you haven't paid me a single peso for the loan that I so gladly granted you months ago?

You're nice and smart. I'm sure you have fifty more friends to ask help from. You should know better than to ask me, especially when you still owe me roughly the same amount of money that you're asking for now. I understand your situation though, and I won't question your reasons and the crisis you are facing at present.

Do it with style. I mean, don't pester me every two weeks as if I'm obligated to help you. Like I told you yesterday, if I can, I really would. I won't even ask you to pay me. But I have my thing, like you have yours. Maraming paraan, di madaling hanapin pero may iba pa bukod sa akin.


Don't worry, I'll get something for the kid as soon as I can manage my M&S shirts, Balenciaga bags and my stupid Blackberry. Somebody stop me. :P

Looking to Borrow As Well? Read.

Perhaps I have peso signs written all over my body that I just fail to notice. Or maybe my surname sounds like that of the CEO of a certain bank. Because I don't have any other explanation as to why many people tend to come to me like I'm a loaning agency. At least three people ask me every week for some extra cash, which I'm surprised to know I look like I have. Hmmm.

I don't want anything to do with debts. I don't borrow and I don't let people borrow money from me. There are some exceptions though; maybe me being incredibly stupid or hypnotized or when there's a life-or-death situation. So yes, you can ask me, and yes, I might lend some; but you should know the unspoken rules about loaning from me. If you claim to be my friend then it should be pretty easy to negotiate. Since I really was incredibly stupid during the last time I got myself involved in a loan, please excuse the emerging bitch.

- If you are one of my good friends, think about the implications of borrowing from me. Again, it's okay to ask. Just remember that I am a friend and not a bank. If I had the means, I would prefer to give than to expect it returned.

- Don't bring it up that I'm single with no children as your reason for choosing to come to me. If you are employed, I believe we stand in the same financial ground. We have different priorities but essentially how we tend to them kind of makes us even. If you tell me I look generous, maybe I'll think about it. Haha.

- Be transparent. Let me know your reason for borrowing money and why you are so desperate that you had to ask me. If it's such a great need, I might even consider helping you instead of just lending. In fact, I would willingly deposit in your account or pay something for you if I could and wanted to, given of course that you have valid reasons to ask for financial help. The bottomline is, do not ask for something as trivial as a new MP3 player for your lovey-dovey. I'm sure lovey-dovey wouldn't mind missing a new gadget if it meant saving up for necessity. Save yourself some dignity.

- If you say it's a loan, I consider it a loan. A loan which has a payment plan and has to be paid on time. Then again, I understand extensions because there really are things in the world that happen beyond anyone's control. But well, extending five times is, to be brutally honest, a little shameful. To think that I don't even put on interest. If you extend, please be polite enough to inform me periodically that you still remember the agreement instead of me wondering if you even remember who I am.

- When I say I can't, I mean that I CAN'T. You don't have to text me ten more times pleading for the same thing that I already dismissed. If I rejected you once, I'll probably do it again even after three hours or three days. Oh, and don't try to borrow while you still have an outstanding balance with me 'cause that's just too funny. Don't try to make me laugh because eventually my laughter turns into sarcasm.

I understand that you are an average person stuck in the economic recession. Guess what, I'm in it too!

Para Kay... Ewan Ko.

Para siguro sa mga taong nakakaintindi.

It's eleven at night and I just got home from Manila. Since Monday, I had set foot in my own home for such a short time that it caused suspicion from the family. I slept over at Joey's house, along with my laptop and stuff, for a purpose my parents didn't understand. Truth is, I went there for an overnight Bleach marathon; and Joey luckily had a spare bottle of red wine that we shared during that early morning. Being the bunso in my family, I had to explain in detail why I was leaving again today for the metro. I actually had no reason, so I just said I'd follow up a certain job application (which I never really did). I just felt the city calling me.

During the sleepover, I was also able to borrow Pops' copy of Ricky Lee's scriptwriting manual entitled Trip to Quiapo, the Signed Copy which she and Jay won at a raffle in Trinoma. This copy, as it turned out, would have something to do with today's Manila escapade. I borrowed it because of a secret dream that's not so secret anymore. I already started with the book but stopped; because all of a sudden I thought that if I was to take Ricky Lee's writing advice, I would have to know him first. Sure, I've watched and loved a few of his movies and saw him on TV a couple of times, but I had to know, erm, understand him. So I had to read Para Kay B.

So today: When I got to the mall I love most in Manila, the first thing I did was run to Power Books for a copy of Para Kay B. Due to force of habit, I turned left towards the free reading section of the store. I admit that sometimes I am a freeloader. Immediately, I saw five copies of Para Kay B on the shelves for in-store reading and didn't even blink as I grabbed one. I immersed myself in the book for the next four hours. The Power Books crowd had changed numerous instances by the time I finished the novel. Quoting the Boy Abunda review of the Filipino novel, "Hindi ko mabitiwan ang nobelang ito maski ihing-ihi na ako." The book put a spell on me. I felt stupid thinking that it was the only reason why the city called me, that I rode the tricycle, bus and jeepney for several miles just to read this book?! Oo, alam ko, may National Bookstore naman sa Santa Rosa.

I was still in a daze from reading when I met up with two college friends during the afternoon. The meeting was short and sweet, just catching up with the latest personal events. One of them asked me, "Why are you here again?"

I said I don't know. I made the trip just because of a gut feeling. When they left, I opted to stay in the mall because I felt the day wasn't done. I began the late afternoon searching for techie accessories but found none that I need. Suddenly, the day that had no purpose became a day of searching. I paid a visit to my alma mater, specifically to a certain laboratory. It was the lab I wanted to work in. I looked for a former classmate who worked here only to find her bench unusually clean and the only hint of her presence, a lab gown, perched on the old coat hanger. I left the building, literally circled my old campus three times,  catching glimpses of med students getting busy with books and chitchat. Some faces were familiar but most were strangers.

I knew I was looking for something but didn't know what it was. I went back to the mall and walked all four levels in an hour. Then there was this urge to search for a tea shop, which turned into a search for books on sale, then for a good Japanese restaurant, then turned into a search for the best takoyaki. When I felt discomfort in my stomach, probably PMS, I settled in a Japanese cafe, satisfied a craving for takoyaki and milk tea as I drowned myself in oddly familiar J-pop music.

Even on short notice, I ended up meeting a friend who I've had for the last 13 years. We had dinner, caught up with our lives, talked about family, life, love, career and comedy. A most refreshing conversation after such a long time. The same question popped up, "Why are you here?" I was looking for something, I answered. My friend offered to help me look for it but I said it would be better for us to spend the night over dinner. We were just there, amidst plates of Italian food... talking.

I took home leftover pizza and pasta to my family, perhaps to thank them for today's freedom.

Just so you know, I didn't find it. Whatever it is.

Bite Me

This post was inspired by a certain party being cited for expressing some obvious facts about the event of another party whose names you will know but I will not mention. Party number 1 happens to be my friend and we share a common connection with the latter group mentioned. So anyway, to whoever was shocked or offended: you misunderstood the point. Party number 1 was simply stating some facts which was never even negative in nature. If you want negativity, I can say a lot more; but I don't because WE have high respect and love for the institution. Besides, we all know that constructive criticism is healthy. So get me, bite me, I don't care. We did not damage anything and we would never intend to. You don't apologize for telling the truth.

A totally unrelated thought: I am free!!!

Oh, Nine?

My first thought as we entered 2009: I want to have a drink, please.

Again, I spent New Year's Eve at work; a strange yet interesting way to start the year. Bosses gave away chocolates after the dreary countdown was over. People applauded and stood up to spread lousy greetings while I lazily type away in my computer. So I officially spent the last minute of 2008 and the first minute of 2009 working. Moments later, my colleagues talked about the pasta, variety of salads and leche flan (which turned out to be just delicious leche) that we were about to share for an early morning meal.

Come mealtime, we had a festive Media Noche sustained by mere initiative to bring whatever we can or had. It wasn't the worst New Year's celebration for me... because at least we were not compelled to walk a kilometer to the nearest Jolibee just to have decent pseudo-festive food, which isn't even that decent. Much better, AT LEAST we were not relatives who pretended to like each other at family reunions, or awkward friends of friends who were forced to socialize at a party. We were just people who happened to be in the same place at the same time doing the same thing. It really wasn't that bad; but I just wanted to have a drink, that's all.

I was too hard on myself for the past year, the least I could manage was finish off with a swig of liver poison. On to sober 2009 then.

Resignation

I know, our species are going extinct.

Her hubby used to shower me with playful insults every day. But now, he was contented with tapping my arm meaningfully and periodically gave me prolonged pats in the back. I understood. She left us both to rot in this hellish pit of boredom and there was less reason to laugh. (Disclaimer: She's not dead.)

If I was the criminal, they were my husband&wife team of accomplices. They were a more cruel set of smart-asses. I had UP memories in my blood, but they had the whole UP culture in their veins.

Now there's just two of us awkwardly going through this monotony. Maybe he stopped messing with me because this shit is no longer a laughing matter. We can't do crimes if it's just us. But...

Resignation is the way to the Light. We stayed away from the Light better than she did.



(Drama. Haha. It was not meant to be ma-drama though.)

I get it.

NOW I totally get it. Passion. It's irreplaceable. Not even the numerous golden Ninoys can match it.

Money is good. Despite the millions of icky bacteria it harbors, a bundle of cash smells good, even just figuratively speaking. It's my anti-pest spray that keeps all the pesky petty shortage issues away. And I do consider myself lucky, to be in this thing that apparently does sprout money as easily as mung beans on a damp towel. Then like some kind of twisted poetic justice, just when you think you've got what you always wanted; all the other non-worldly bullshit in your life come to multiply themselves into those little shitheads that annoy you every day.

No matter how much your colleagues envy you for your high incentives, no matter how bitter your sibling is because you're a little wealthier, and no matter how much guilt was lifted because you were able to endure mental suicide for the sake of a little stability...

... it all comes down to what you want. Still.



I can do better than this.

I can extract and fingerprint DNA. How many people in the world can do that? Right? Fine, there's probably a lot of people who can do the same thing and more but still, I don't deserve to be treated like a load of stupid crap.

And they said, at least you'll have friends. Yeah, if only there were more than two people with whom you won't have to explain yourself all the time.

Personality At Work

I am an INTJ. I knew that from a personality test I took years ago.

credits to this blog for the very fitting image

This is part of the profile of an INTJ according to Wikipedia: "They tend to be pragmatic and logical individuals, often with an individualistic bent and a low tolerance for spin or rampant emotionalism. They are also commonly not susceptible to catchphrases and commonly do not recognize authority based on tradition, rank or title."

So despite having this extremely boring, repetitive workload mixed with a crowd of arrogant know-it-alls who think they're naturally some kind of superior species; I manage. I don't care how much higher they are at the ranks, 'cause it doesn't mean they're better than anybody else. No one gets any right to raise his/her voice at me just because I was able to finish something in a shorter time frame than what was expected. It's how I work, and I get paid well for that speed. This job is boring enough that I don't have to linger too much on a stupid questionnaire.

Also, according to the article: "They generally withhold strong emotion and do not like to waste time, as they see it, with what they consider irrational social rituals. This, however, may cause non-INTJs to perceive them as distant and reserved."

So no one should expect me to take interest in that unnecessary activity of chismisan, that even gets as far as the whole world knowing how much I got on my last paycheck. Thank you for the good remarks, but there's a reason why payslips are printed in those peek-proof sheets. That reason is called confidentiality.

Lastly: "Hallmark features of the INTJ personality type include independence of thought, strong individualism, creativity, and a desire for efficiency. People with this personality type work best given large amounts of autonomy and creative freedom.... They tend to be acutely aware of their knowledge and abilities, as well as their limitations and what they don't know."

So if I want to be a smart ass, I WILL be a smart ass.


I recommend the articles on the 16 Myers-Briggs personality types for a fun read at work where other reading materials are prohibited.

Now That's Familiar

Help me remember how it feels to hold a pipette and dispense 10 millilitres of acid into that tiny 50-ml beaker. I miss that smoke and the smell that makes you cough when it mixes with water. I'm so bored that I'd rather digest sixty samples of fecal matter inside the fume hood and risk burning myself than stare endlessly and pointlessly into that computer screen at work.

I was sitting there, rubbing my shoes against the carpet, wrinkling my forehead in frustration and typing away in this stupid computer that had been triggering my headaches. I've been in this place for just a short while but I'm starting to feel the ceiling going down on me and the glare of the LCD slowly eating me alive.

But then just when I thought I was about to drop dead inside that pit of dumb boredom, I heard something familiar. My last name.

One of the female bosses was talking to a subordinate, "I'm looking for Ofilas." There could only be two reasons for a boss to ask for me: either I did something great or I did something really wrong. I continued typing in my computer and pretended to be busy until the boss found me.

"Can I take a look at your ID?" she said in the usual boss-like tone. I showed her the tiny card and waited for a reaction. She smiled. "Look at my ID." she said again.

Again, something familiar hit me. My last name. Though her ID was the typical damaged, overused, virtually washed out card that all the bosses have, I was positive about what I read. Ofilas. Same exact spelling. "Maybe we have the same father!" she joked, as all heads turned toward us. Still recovering from the shock, I asked "Where are you from?" in a tone that almost sounded like I was actually asking if she was for real. She held that same gaze as I had and answered, "Ilocos, of course. Where else? All the Ofilases come from that place."

Of course I knew that. There's no any other region in this country that could claim that clan name. Then she babbled about how rare it is to find a namesake and if she did, she was sure to be related to that person. Well, I always knew another Ofilas existed in that office ever since one of the lower supervisors mentioned her to me. I was too lazy to make a search effort, and besides, the number of people working there made finding a specific person a daunting task. But apparently, she is a boss- which meant power- which meant access to certain lists and certain data, thus The Meeting.

Anyway, due to loads of boss work she had to do and the sick mediocre routine that I still have two hours to endure... we parted ways as she promised to have a longer talk with me next time.

Funny, because I commented on Jung's post about namesakes, saying that I will not be pursuing the search for that mysterious girl anymore. I said I'd leave it to the forces of nature. And behold the forces doing their job. Though actually, it was the magic of employee database that brought us together.

Maybe having a boss with my last name would make that place a little less boring.

Insanity

I don't know 'cause I'm not a doctor, but isn't it when they diagnose you for mental disorder they ask if you've felt or experienced anything unusual? They'd backtrack towards events in your life or previous actions that might prove your sanity or otherwise.

Okay, so let's backtrack...


*** AFTER OVERTIME***
After another crazy day at work without sleep, I accompanied my mom to the hospital for some routine lab tests; then we went grocery shopping. I usually don't stare at other people but a certain girl caught my attention. She was confidently walking with her boyfriend inside the air-conditioned mall while wearing a) an orange bra, b) overlaid with a sheer white blouse, c) skinny jeans, d) a red scarf and e) dark shades. I was stifling giggles so much that my mother wanted to hit me. Hehe.

Sorry, I don't intend to be mean... but girl, ano ba? Don't contradict yourself! I don't know if the ensemble was meant to be for summer or winter. It's okay to wear a two-piece suit with a translucent cover-up on the beach but in the mall? And fine, for the sake of fashion, it's okay that Pinoys wear scarves despite the equatorial weather, but not with exposed bright-colored brassieres. Maybe it's just me; but forgive me for this one, I had a bursting laugh anyway.


***BEFORE OVERTIME***
Everyday I get a lot of jokes about so many different things. Some are worth a little smile but most of them have been quite irritating. But behold, here's one joke that actually made me laugh for a good minute:

     Two atoms are walking down the sidewalk,
     Atom 1: “Wait! Stop! I think I lost an electron!"
     Atom 2: “Are you sure?”
     Atom 1: “Yeah, I’m positive!”

Corny, hehe. But I laughed! Maybe I just missed chem (eh?). Ironically, later that day I was teaching a kid about redox reactions. LOL


***SOMETIME MID-DAY***
Girl: Anna, question. What do you call that middle groove below the nostrils and above the upper lip?
Me: Ah, that one. It starts with PH. Wait... (2 seconds) ... ah, it's PHALLUS.

Girl: Oh, actually sounds familiar. Thanks. *she begins looking it up at Google to look for a technical definition*
Me: (Teka, why does it sound weird? Sexual. Shet!)  Wait!

Girl: Huh?
Me: It's PHILTRUM. Phallus is... erm, look it up on Wikipedia.

:)

Adult High School

I suddenly had a flash of memories about how I was in high school.

 I have always been a nerd. I had an unexplainable obsession for learning. I felt comfortable with formulas, numbers, essays and experiments. I looked forward to every release date of the school paper I was once part of. I liked exam days - because I can watch TV during the later half of the day and exams were, well, easy. Then there were all those fun essay-writing contests that I could always be in just because few people wanted to participate in them. Along with the downtime we get from all those extracurriculars, it was ridiculously easy to pass the courses. The only problem I had with grades was how to get higher marks than my friend (LOL), and everyone else for that matter. (And believe me... arrogance aside, it wasn't that hard.) I was used to rubbing elbows with the teachers- be it biology, chemistry, math, or English, even with the prefect of discipline that everyone feared. I don't know how, but it comes naturally. And you know what my most dreaded event was? The annual Intramurals. It's a full week of sports and cheerdancing; and a full week of me clumsily trying please my PE teacher at a sports event I can't play properly.

So you see why I loved college. It was different. I suddenly had less hate for PE only because I get to choose what to do. In academics, passing actually became extremely difficult. I had to cry, lose sleep, faint and literally get showered with acid in the process of trying to get that marginal tres. Professors were at both sides of the spectrum - the hip, young ones vs. the terror conservatives. And there I found my fellow nerds. They were just as weird but cool in our own sense. I even had a whole family in there (hello guys! *waves*). The whole four and something years squeezed the most blood, tears and sweat out of me but it's something
I'd do again in another lifetime (Asus... haha). Come to think of it, laziness set in a lot but I wouldn't have endured traveling several miles everyday if I didn't somehow like going to school diba?

Then there's life after college. It's that fork in the road covered by blinding fog and littered with sharp rocks. I hoped it was going to be like university life (considering that I came from the university that best captured The Real World). But then just now, I discovered, this is Adult High School. Beautiful people are still the head-turners, orange hair and black nails still look evil,  who dumped who and who hooked up with who still matters, gossip is still the lunchtime appetizer and us nerds, are still, the unusual nerds. I know there's a world out there that's better than this. But just like school, I guess I have to get through all this high school-ness all over again before I can graduate to that other world.

I can't help but start this wave of nostalgia. Haha.


So... do you still remember what high school's like?

Do you still remember what YOU were like back then?

Why Do You Ask... WHY?

"Boyfriend?"
> "None."

"Had boyfriends??"
> "No."

"Since birth???" (Notice how the ?s increase.)
> "Yes."

"Owwws????"
> "You don't believe me?"

"Why?????"
> "Well, why do I need a reason?"

This is probably one of the lamest posts I'd ever put in this blog but what the heck, when you're fed up, somethin's just gotta give. Different instances of conversation around a span of a week with different people has triggered a phenomenon called being fed up.

Tell me, my favorite people in the world, do I need a reason to be single? Is WHY that big of a deal? After frequent conversations similar to the one above, guys usually stare at me for a good 5 mins or so, girls gasp in amazement and gays push through with the seemingly endless interrogating. And puhleeease, I am not easy (so don't give me that look)... or gay (especially not THAT look)... or naive.

I don't usually mind being asked, but I DO mind having to explain. My sis said that maybe it's because our kind is becoming an endangered species. Now that's a funny way to put it. :P

So thank you. For not asking me. And for not being stupidly interested in a non-existent explanation. :)

The girl from...

UP.

That's what they call me.

There are other variations like "Ate UP", "Miss UP", "Yoopee-yoopee" but mostly it's just UP girl or simply UP. My name tent says Anna in bold font size 85 or something but they call me just the same, everyday.

It feels somewhat like being a superhero... it's either a gift or a curse. Sometimes it even feels like high school, when being smart makes you less cool and socially incapable. So what, I got 11 out of 15 in that stupid logic test. If I had been taking the same test with my college buddies, my score would have been on the mediocre standard. This is how you turn out after years of blood-draining analysis and forced quick thinking. It's not some sort of extra-terrestrial power. It's not worth replacing a human being's name with an acronym.

People have names for a purpose. My name tent (tag) is HUGE for a purpose.




If it's your first time to encounter a nerd, deal with it.


-edit-

Again. Stop making an issue of the fact that I write during break times. You do your  thing, retouch your make-up, make chika and all that... I write. It's the same. It's not an alien ritual, so stop peering on my notes and talking behind my back.

Rare Occurrences

Shopping has always been more a luxury than a necessity in the world I grew up in. Unless we're running out of stuff to fill our bellies with or use in the shower, I don't get to shop for new things. I lived on presents, hand-me-downs and company freebies. Going around while actually spending cash as opposed to staring aimlessly at shelves is a rarity. Case in point: The mom, surprisingly, took us kids out for a little shopping as her post-birthday treat.

However, I don't think I'm shopping again anytime soon. First reason- cheap, regular clothes don't fit me. I wanted to buy what I called a "Lee Da Hae" blouse but apparently, Large still doesn't fit me... when in the US I fit in petites and small moderates! In the end, I got a smallest shirt in the plus-size section. Frustrating, no? Then there's a second reason- the salesman at the men's wear section would probably remember me as the girl who was picking out boxer shorts for herself. I helped my brother choose a pair of boxers and then just as the sales guy greeted us, my bro blurted out, "May smaller size, fit sa'yo! Turo mo, ikukuha kita and then ako na sa cashier para di nakakahiya."  When it couldn't get any worse, my mom held up a few of the items and asked how I'd like it (Mommy?!). Okay, I don't mind friends knowing I like wearing men's boxers at home, but I don't like having salespersons stifle giggles about it while I'm doing some serious shopping. So I told my mother I'll stick to grocery shopping for the mean time.

Another rare thing happened Sunday midnight until early Monday morning. Gerard, our beloved brother/Oble scholar/summa cum laude/future M.D. was online and available to talk, for once! Hehe. He's in Cebu right now after their cardio module and for a birthday with his family. It was his birthday last week and I totally forgot (what's more embarassing, I greeted Hernie and had a hunch that there was another August birthday but forgot it was Gerard's)!

Anyway... UP fam: sabi nya sobrang miss na daw na tayo and laging wrong timing yung mga dinners natin sa schedule nya. He hopes to be able to see us sometime when he's not busy (yikes, in med school, who knows when that will be diba?).

Who knows what other rare events are in store for me in the next few weeks? Like me going out, perhaps? :P

So What.

I'm doing what every blogger in the planet has done this week. I writing an Olympic post.

People often talked about how China was more concerned about saving face than actually being part of the history of the Games. Why wouldn't they? Foreigners suddenly invade a country that's isolated itself for the most part of the last millenium (they even put up a wall, for goddness' sake). Athletes worried about the thick smog and the quality of living as they arrive in conspicucous medical masks.  But then to cope up, China built a new airport terminal, reduced fifty percent of their land traffic, shut down factories in the city, conquered an architectural feat by erecting the Bird's Nest and had their cab drivers learn English. However, the international press still felt constricted with the controversial firewall that would never be entirely lifted.They attempted to make the world's greatest fireworks display in a densely populated, smog-covered city for the international audience; and the world still makes a fuss about the computer generated bit of it. A cute kid sings their national hymn with a big smile and the everyone keeps busy making an issue of the lip-synching.

So what if they're saving face? At least they're winning medals. We send what, fifteen Olympians, and some of them are not even true-blooded Pinoys? Sure, Phelps will always set records and the Dream Team will always hoard points; but we spent our taxes for our athletes to play in this momentous sports event (and for Manny to wave our flag in a backdrop of blue barongs). We don't swim, fight or punch but we care, dammit.

Funny thought: I just realized that I actually weighed heavier than our gold medal pambato in boxing. Payat niya no? Lol.

But then let's go over the impressive ones... the ones who'll get 10, 000 hits on Google just from busy bloggers. If the Games are really named after Mt. Olympus like I assume it is, then I say Michael Phelps is an Olympic god. And weightlifting's Liu Chunhong is some sort of demigoddess- oh, how she made setting records look so easy. You know, Yao Ming used to give me the creeps. Asian guy standing over seven feet with a strong square-ish face... why won't I find him creepy? Even my tall cousins used to scare me. But Yao Ming, recently, surprisingly impressed me. So what if he's got injured knees, broken feet and an infected toe? So what if he's all tired and burned out? So what if he missed seven of his ten shots? He played majestically; like nothing else mattered more than that orange ball and the pride of his country. So take a breather, big guy... while we patiently hope for a gold and China continues to chase the US for that number 1 spot.

Another thing. Because of the Beijing 2008 games, my dream destination- The Forbidden City- has been much more devirginized.

Because you can read this, you are in that lucky third set.

There are two sets of people in the world. Those who don't know you well but understand you; and those who know you very well but don't necessarily understand you.

There are those who I can talk to for minutes about the scientific inaccuracies of the latest CSI or House episode without laughing over the nerdiness of the topic; and they don't need me to explain why I'm still single and why I hate weddings or any social gathering with over thirty people. On the other side of the spectrum, there are those who simply know random little things like me wearing men's boxers at home and may even may know one of my dark secrets.  

But just recently, I learned that there is a third set of people: one that's roughly in between the first two. And they're the ones who can read this post.

***

I've turned away four job prospects. For several different reasons. It's either I'm simply arrogant or incredibly stupid; but it's all about waiting for the right one. Just like waiting for Mr. or Ms. Right. So I'll stay patient, wait, read a few books and manga, watch some anime; and for the sake of my parents, learn the basics of "household management". Maybe I'll go back to randomly speaking in Japanese, continue writing that screenplay and make some serious progress with EiC. Until such time when the lawyers start chasing me again about my overdue internet bills and my mom complains about Meralco, I will be engrossed in domestic training and entrepreneurial apprenticeship - things that this bum will do when she's not one.

But god, I miss Swedish pancakes.

Well, I can't be a bum and have pancakes at the same time. It would defy universal justice.

Giving up Cheesecake

At two early this morning, we rushed our mom to the hospital because of her elevated blood pressure, which failed to stabilize even after taking her anti-hypertensive drugs.

As I filled up the information sheet in the ER, a female resident tended to my mother. She assessed her condition, took the bp, gave her meds and instructed the nurses to prepare the ECG. I thought, that's something I could probably do. I could even bet that I know better about the exact mechanisms of action of those blockers and enzyme inhibitors. (Yabang. Maybe I'm being bitter.)

So I moved away from the gurneys. Stop the unhealthy thoughts. I gave it up, so stop the unhealthy thoughts. I just joked with my brother about racing the wheelchairs around the ER.


It's like cheesecake.

My expensive, dangerous guilty pleasure-cum-obsession. Despite the euphoric feeling of being one of few to taste the pricey indulgence, the saturated fats and harmful lipoproteins will come to bite you in the ass.

Cheesecake is bad for me. Hospitals are bad for me.

Thanks ten times over.

Kelly tagged me.

The rules are to post ten things that have made you happy recently as an exercise in gratitude. I should say that I had trouble coming up with ten things, when I thought it should be easy. Well...

1. A phone call I made to Pinas on Valentine's day.

2. A black dress on sale that actually fits me.

3. Success in strategic packing of a box I've been obssessed with recently.

4. An episode of Jimmy Kimmel Live. (It was funny when he said something about American Idol 7 being the "gayest" season ever. Haha.)

5. A chance to formally graduate.

6. Finishing five chapters of a new original fic.

7. A new desktop PC with an acceptably speedy internet connection.

8. A weekend getaway to the ends of the world. (More like, snowy northern US.)

9. Two solar keychains I bought in WI. (Sorry guys walang pasalubong... lintik sa mahal yung dalawang pirasong keychain na yun. $3 each!)

10. Strangers I met in the most unusual circumstances: A med school survivor waiting to be an M.D., a guy from NY, and a feisty Pinoy who doesn't a have a single Tagalog word in the internal vocabulary; who gives me headaches.  

I tag ANYONE who reads this, except those who've done it already.

Where's my Genie?

If I had a genie, I would probably be wishing for love, peace and happiness. Lol. I wonder how he'd get around that. If everyone would wish for such long-term things, we should all probably be dead the next day. Haha. So let's go past the pretentious crap and see what crazy stuff I want this year.

I was tagged by Jewel.

JOB. This actually just comes from that deeply rooted desire for money. Cold hard cash, or something better like in the form of a string of digits on my monthly bank statement. It would be really cool to just win the lottery but getting a paycheck from a kickass profession would be so much cooler. Besides, my brain wouldn't stand being a bum for too long.

A PIECE OF FANCY PAPER.  Also known as a diploma.  No biggie, it's just that little reward for all the blood, sweat, and tears (uh, literally speaking).

A CARD. Or two cards, for that matter. One that claims itself to be a license (whoa, it seems I'm considering it) and another one that could be an ID for grad school (whoa, I didn't realize I was considering this either). 

A FLASH DRIVE. I want a new one with more space but it doesn't hurt to wish for this 8GB SanDisk Cruzer Contour Drive. My brother already has a 4GB Cruzer Micro, which he never forgot to dangle in front of my face. Oh, that bragger. So why 8GB? Pictures. Music. Video. Backup. Added coolness. And so that I could be that bad little sister who likes to outdo her brother.


A PLANE TICKET. Maybe I just want to live somewhere else for a while. I don't know. I don't care if it's a round trip ticket to the ends of the world for a week, I'm still biting it. My brother took that one in the picture... hehe. I just realized he was as obsessed as me in trying to take pictures of everything... e.g. doing endless macro shots of stuff like dewdrops, bugs, dessert and even dust in the keyboard.


I have no one to pass this on to, so I'm going to tag YOU. But, should I think of anyone in particular, this entry will be edited promptly. 

My brain doesn't freeze, apparently.

Today is about 0 degrees F. Wind chill around -20 F. Again, F not C. Only single-digit highs this weekend. My head still hurts due to the 8-degree cold from the other day. For the life of me, I wore a coat which didn't have a hood and I refused to wear a hat for the simple reason that my blow-dried hair will be ruined. However, I just gave everyone the right to call me stupid because my hair was ravaged by the high winds anyway. LOL.

Okay, what follows is just totally random babbling of which you won't take the time to read unless you terribly miss me or you simply care about me that much. It came to the point that my fingers felt numb after going out in below freezing temperatures, but it seems that my brain continues being the stubborn machinery that it is no matter how cold it may be.

I've gone everywhere. Birthdays, holiday parties, workplace blowouts, family reunions, Christmas concerts, weddings and even funerals. The other day was actually a funeral of someone who passed away before I got to meet her. That's why I blow-dried my hair so I'd look decent enough to blend in with the visitors who were mostly health professionals and concert producers (don't ask about the strange combination); and so that my scalp doesn't freeze and kill me once outside. Funerals never had any effect on me; but I noticed: a death actually seemed sadder during winter. Outside, it was brutally cold and dreary to start with. People shared condolences with mist in their breaths and everyone came in black- suits and coats, wool and leather, scarves and boots.

I think the experience was funny in a sense. First, I went to visit a wake of somebody I don't even know and got to express my condolences to people I met for the first time. Second, the family of the deceased has got this gay relative who produces and promotes concerts in the Chicago area... so those middle-aged ladies who attended the funeral can't stop talking about the upcoming Piolo-Sam concert this March (see, even I now know about this stuff). It's still a mystery if I will be given passes to the after-party or a private dinner with the artistas, but I have to watch my mouth and not say anything derogatory about the the ex-pat fandom; or else my chance for free food will be gone. I assume they're treated VIP style, I'd expect they'll be in a good hotel or restaurant for dinner so you can't blame me if free food is what I'm after. Hehe. The other good thing that could happen though is that if my 14-year old niece gets to perform in an opening act to any of the Pinoy concerts produced here. Even though we are related and I don't seem to exhibit such talents (lol), she has built a reputation in the performing arts being part of the on-stage production of Disney High School Musical in the area. 

Blah. Blah. Blah.

The rest of this entry is in my other blog which I don't get to show everyone.. but it's there. It's just that some opinions are to be left there. Well, at least this is better than being alone in my room and talking to the laptop computer in a strange language in the wee hours of the morning. That's because I'm still self-studying Japanese, which I know seems odd when I should be learning a more useful language like Spanish so I can talk to the Hispanic waiters at restaurants, haha.

Watashi wa Anna desu. Hajimemashita. Dozou yoroshiku. (Dapat pala nag-Japan Airlines na lang para ma-try ito sa Tokyo. Haha.)

-edit-
I can't see my jawline anymore. I compared the new pictures from the despedida shots, I noticed my face appears to have swollen. Ten pounds makes that much difference.