Yay, I bought new jeans! And they actually fit me -- not only waist-wise, but length wise as well. I needed something to make me feel better =)

I just realized something mildly annoying.

You know how sentimentalizing is part of the whole crush-like-inlove process, and you usually get it out of your system by drowning yourself in melancholia -- typically in the form of song -- until you get so sick of it you just snap? It's no use denying it. Whatever melodic genre you choose (pop, rock, metal, even hiphop) it's still the same thing.

Well, I've gone through my MP3 line-up and there is nothing, absolutely nothing that captures my emotional state.

This is the downside of being on the verge of maybe falling for a friend. And I DO NOT mean this in the cliched, over-used bestfriends-turned-couple teen romance way. He is not my best friend. I'm not even sure our relationship classifies as a real friendship. But we know each other, we talk and we can talk up a storm, we're comfortable being alone together, and he doesn't find it weird when I suddenly appear out of thin air to ask him out for a drink.

But yes, I know all the things you guys are going to say, and I whole-heartedly agree.

Useless. Painful. Regrettable. In the end, not worth it. Yes, yes, I know.

The thing is, I really cannot think of him as the "crushable" type. My brain (and all that is logical and rational in my being) just rejects the image. So every time I slip into romantic exorcism mode, I find that I can't properly begin excorsicing him, because my brain can't seem to think of him romantically in the first place. But then, another part of me (or maybe another brain?) seems to be ever-nearing liking him/ wanting him... etc.

See? I am a defective piece of shit. My universe is in a state of perpetual chaos.

Shit, I am a defective human being. Why is it that I only realize what things (people) are worth when they are no longer there for the taking??? First case in point: JR. (Yes, you.) We all know what hapenned there -- and if you don't, well, count yourself lucky you missed my "fairytale wannabe period".

Shit. This is what happens when you have nothing to do for long periods of time. You tend to look for excitement wherever you can, and I mean, wherever. Idleness is the devil's playground.

And so, I find myself in an almost familiar position, except this time I seem to have lost my wonderful detachment, my sense of logic, and my undying belief in the "game". I find myself openning the Pandora's box of what-ifs and the possibilities are proving to be a temptation far beyond mere mortal strength.

Yes, as it turns out, it has hapenned again. I think I am starting to like someone I cannot possibly have.

Win or Lose...

I am so tired! I watched the great Ateneo-LaSalle game yesterday with Chito, Kathy and Pat, and yes we lost. I felt so sorry for the players, especially Enrico. It's his last year to play for the blue and white. He does 500 free throws every day, practices like crazy, and you can see in his eyes that he REALLY, REALLY wants it. At least he got the MVP award (not to mention Best Defensive Player, and a slot in the mythical five), although I know that's probably cold comfort for him.

Tickets were so HARD to get! All the scalpers probably made a killing -- we even made 700 bucks just for selling two Upper B tickets (which we sold to JM, which he in turn sold to his friends), tickets that usually just cost Php 50! And that was already selling at a loss, because the going then was Php 400 for bleachers, and at least Php 500 for the Upper B!

Ofcourse I rode home with a bunch of LaSallians, because hardly any Ateneans live in the South. Easy target for all the ribbing and the jokes. But even they couldn't say anything about our team spirit. We were still cheering even when we were down 20 points. That's something. Talk about having heart.

I really hope we win on Saturday!

I went out with Arlyn, Beena and Ibarra last night. Had a few beers. Arlyn got picked up at 11. Beena left at 11:30. Ibarra and I decided to go to my house. We talked. He left around 6.

God, i miss so many things. I'm feeling so nostalgic today. I miss the Summer of '99, with all those crazy, in-the-moment people. I miss the somber, subdued Summer of '00 that now reminds me of a local teen soap (a'la Tabing Ilog?) with all the shallowness and the petty intrigues that never really said much about anything and were never really as exciting as being scandalous in the first place. I miss Boracay '01 (yeah, baby) and Boracay '02. I miss summer escapades and clandestine romances and getting hung over at 9 am in class and being called on and knowing you had absolutely nothing to say. I miss books and studying and being terrified of flunking Calassanz's midterms. I miss writing 5 papers at the same time, and not sleeping for 3 days straight and then collapsing and sleeping for all of 18 hours. I miss living in Katipunan and hanging out in the benches in the Quad. I miss the caf siomai rice and sandwiches from Food For Thought. I miss Assumption and the uniforms, and girly high school gossip, and the innocent malicious fun we all thougth were so deliciously evil.

Most of all I miss the adventures, and the carpe diem of it all.

ON WAITING FOR THE MAILMAN
Suffice it to say that the great epochs of my life have all been marked by great periods of WAITING. Because no matter what the final decision is, this is the crossroads. This is the point where I decide where it is I am going. And that's a lonely, scary, liberating thought. Not like the decisions of past years, where you knew you had someone by your side, making the same decisions. Then you knew that your lives would run parallel for some time, and that was always a source of comfort. This time it's just me. I am crossing the brink of the unknown, and it's frightening.

WHY YOU CAN BE GREAT EVEN IF YOU'RE NOT SMART, PRETTY, KIND, POWERFUL, ETC
It's not really beauty, power, or kindness, or even intelligience that can make someone great. There is only one thing, I think, that can really change the world. And that is strength of will, desire, PASSION. All the great people in this world had passion, but not all of them had the other things. It is the passionate man who is the stuff of which legends are made of.

AND THE SPORTS NEWS...
Ateneo-LaSalle UAAP finals! I hope we can score some tickets! I'd love to watch any of the finals games.

I just (Finally!) got a copy of Chic Issue 550 -- the same issue where my short story got printed. One word: Letdown.
I thought it would be thrilling to actually see my name in print, with two full pages of my words to go with it. It wasn't. It was inexplicably disappointing. I felt like my story had been relegated to the dust bin of past prints, and had thereby lost its "potential" forever.

You see, an unpublished story/work is brimming with future greatness, tempered only by the realism of your own imagination. But a published one meets with reality, and in reality, well, unless you publish an anthology, that short story has met the pinnacle of its life. A print in a lame, virtually unread magazine that perpetually sits in the laquered armchairs of destitute beauty parlors, to be read, chewed up and ultimately used as a rag to wipe the drippings of an outlandish bottle of hairdye is not a very great pinnacle.

So here goes another round of waiting. First step/hurdle (acceptance) is over. I really should get used to all this fluttering in my stomach. Anyway, Round 2 begins. We shall see.

Okay, so I now have Tita Matot's address and my reservation fee. Tomorrow I can send everything off to her. All I can do now is hope and PRAY.

MAIL TIME: Yes, Goddard College has written back to tell me that I should reserve my slot for next term's residency. Yay. I thought they changed their mind and decided that they didn't like me anymore! Now, all I need to do are:
1. accomplish ISLP (loan) form and send to tita matot
2. So that I can process my finance forms
3. so that I can finally get my student visa from the american embassy
4. and reserve my tickets to go to the US
5. without forgetting, ofcourse, to buy the necessary winter gear.

Needless to say, I won't (can't, actually) get a job because I shall be leaving in around 3 months! So little time to prepare! And where the hell can I get waterproof boots "with good traction" in this TROPICAL country? Not to mention leather gloves and coats, and all that stuff...

Anyway, I'm just happy that I'm REALLY AND TRULY going -- if the American Embassy doesn't give me shit ofcourse...

I just applied to become a pre-school teacher at an American-Singaporean school in Ortigas. They have really cute children with various nationalities. Pray that I get it, please.

Okay, so why haven't I written in such a long time? Well, I've been busy. I applied to teach at a pre-school in Ortigas, and I have a demo on Thursday. I'm writing a short story, and editing an old one. I've been tutoring Kyra -- I can't believe she's still having problems with Enero, Pebrero, etc. I went to Ateneo to check out their MA programs and get a transcript, and submit my sample for the National Writer's Workshop.

Anyway, I'm hoping that there is a pre-school (or any school for that matter) near here where I can teach.

Arlyn called and told me that she could maybe get me and my two sisters tickets to a ballet called "Merry Widow".

I have to bring Kyra to a children's party tomorrow.

I cancelled/postponed my thing with Ibarra due to work.

I need to write.

I got pretty good reviews from toasted cheese. I just sort of have to tidy the story up a little.

Anyway, found this stories link on one of the other blogs. Interesting stuff.

And still no word from Goddard. I feel abandoned. I guess it's really time to plan out my life sans a masters' degree.

Anyway, I just joined an online writers' community called toasted cheese.
Have I mentioned that dengue is, once again, in fashion?

That's all for now as I wallow in my failed-writer misery.

9/11
I was in a drinking place with Trixie and Aisa when it happened. I can’t even remember the name of the place now, but I remember the call. The first one came fron Rij, to tell me that JR was in the North Tower. I remember the agony of waiting to know if he was okay, and the relief, and the surreality of it all. It was like watching yourself perform on stage. A desperate, soul-wretching rollercoaster performance so poignant that you can’ help but be drawn into it. Then you realize that you’re the desperate, tormented soul. And that you are peering at hell.

They talk about the couple who held hands before they jumped. I think about all those other people who stretched out in fear or love or comfort, but found no one. I think about everyone who was alone. I think about everyone who saw their deaths looming in front of them, and the knowledge that all they could do was choose how they were going to die.

Now people talk about war, and hate, and retribution. I think about all those nameless children who will suffer, and whose lives will be burned all around them, but who will remain unmourned. I think about the people who will die just as they had lived – ignorant, miserable, vacant. I think about another couple, who will hold hands, who will jump from a building, who will know that they are going to die, but who will not be remembered, because their building is not a tower, and they are not American.

The terror passes on to those it tried to make afraid. And it will keep changing hands until the blood and the tears fade into the multitude of palms.

I cried that day. For the friends I thought I had lost, for the people I will never find.

Maybe I should cry again.

I have decided to write down my quick recipes here, for future reference. Note that I have been doing more cooking, and as there is no one to instruct me on the traditional fare, I find that I must concoct my own recipes.

Fast Laing
I first tasted laing in Tapika in Katipunan and absolutely loved it. I can't duplicate theirs, as it's too complicated and takes too long. So I sort of developed my own.

Taro root leaves (dahon ng gabi) -- You can buy these cut up and ready to go in the supermarket.
coconut milk powder
1/2 cup all-purpose cream
water
1 1/2 cans of tuna in brine
shrimp paste (bagoong alamang)
2 pieces of siling labuyo (spicy chilis)
a snip of crushed, diced ginger

Get a medium sized, shallow pot. Put the leaves in, about 40 whole pieces, but who's counting so just make an educated guess. Mix half to three quarters of the coconut milk powder with 2 3/4 cups of water. Pour this mixture over the leaves. Dump in the cream and the tuna. Turn on the heat and put the pot on the stove. When it boils, bring the heat down to a low flame. Let it simmer until it looks well incorporated. Mix occasionally.

Get your bagoong and put about two tablespoons in (you can put more or less, according to taste). Put the chilis in too -- if you want to make it spicier, crush the sili. Simmer some more, for about 7 minutes.

And you're good to go. You can try pork and chicken too, but make sure there are no bones before you dump them in.


Tamad Lumpia
lumpia wrapper, the square ones preferably
1/2 can of tuna (leftover from laing)
1 small can of mushrooms
half a small onion
small tomato
lots of crushed garlic, about a clove
1 small potato, diced.

In a skillet, sautee garlic, onions and tomatoes. Add in potato and sliced mushrooms (drain it first). When onions turn translucent, add tuna (chunks and brine). Mix well. Let simmer until the water has evaporated somewhat (about 10-18 mins).
Put in a bowl. Wrap in the wrapper. Seal with egg whites or water. Put on a baking tray. Stick the whole shebang into the oven for twenty minutes, around 190 deg C.

Check occasionally in 5 minute intervals.
For dip: Mix equal parts soy sauce or Kikkoman (better) and vinegar.

Our maid, who was rushed to the UST hospital two days ago, is in the ICU now. I am still shocked by the lengths to which people will refuse to believe in medical science. Our maid's family is convinced that her sickness has something to do with evil spirits she might have angered (who live in our house), and who are now molesting her, so that instead of spending money practically (ie buying medicine or paying for her tests) they are contemplating on sacrificing a black pig, a white chicken, or both.

By the way, laing is a Filipino vegetable dish that makes use of taro root leaves (dahon ng gabi), coconut cream (kakang gata), shrimp paste (bagoong), some pork and shrimp, chilis (siling labuyo) and garlic, onions and ginger. But I like to make mine with tuna instead of the pork and shrimp, and with a lot of cream.

Yay, I just (successfully) cooked laing. It actually tastes like the real thing too.

The neighbor across us has just engaged in some weird ritual, probably a remnant of Philippine animism.

Very strange.

My house is located in a middle-class suburb, in a modern, civilized city. Granted we have the occasional chicken crowing at some god-forsaken hour once in a while, but this is the first time I have witnessed people slaughter a pig -- kicking, and thrashing, may I add -- and then gather the blood to wash their new cars with.

Very, very strange. My mom now thinks that our neighbors may have come from Siquijor, a province well-known for ancient witch-doctor, voodoo-like stuff.

Breaking News: Our maid (the one who fell) has been rushed to the UST hospital in an ambulance because of heart problems. The last I heard, her BP was a very dangerous 70/40. She was feverish and had loose bowel movements too.

I've decided to do some things concerned with my literary aspirations, which I shall not mention here or anywhere, as I'm afraid publicly speaking about it will jinx it. Actually, I haven't told anyone yet, so if I fail, no one has to know.

Still no word on my business collaboration with Carms. We'll just see how tha goes.

Evidence of my lack of a life: Most of my time is spent reading other people's blogs where in they berate themselves for their own lack of lives. The remainder is spent reading blogs written by people who actually have things going on in their lives so that I can get more inspired to read the blogs of people who have no lives because that means that there are more losers like me.

I am a sad, sad piece of human flesh.

Now if only Carms would actually FINALLY meet up with me so we can really start discussions on our project.

There's a nice intellectual discourse going on in my egroup regarding language development. Very interesting.

The maids are all gone. The old one left Saturday night, as she always does, but failed to come Sunday afternoon. The other one left Sunday afternoon, but failed to come today, even though she was really excited about my mom enrolling her (he's a transvestite) in cosmetology classes.

I still haven't heard from Goddard.

This waiting is killing me. I'm starting to lsoe most of my hope.

Just got back from my little cousin's birthday party. It alsways amazes me how chaotic, noisy and totally lawless our family gatherings can be.

Anyway, Carms and I are definitely joining the Green Meadows Bazaar. Our only problem now is picking a nice name for our so-called "new business". Anyway, we're meeting tomorrow, so we shall see.

I sat through an hour and a half or Mike Myers last night with my SIX year old sister at Rockwell while my family watched Bourne Identity, and it was all my idea to watch Matt Damon in the first place. AND. I hate Austin Powers.

Gotta fly, I have to go to my little cousin's birthday party.

I just caught M. Night Shyamalan's "Signs" with Lia. All thanks to my handsome, kind-hearted, wonderful brother for changing the tires on my car even if it's raining outside and he has to be in school at 5 am tomorrow for their Bataan trip.

It was entertaining and refreshing to see an alien invasion/suspense film that had almost no special effects, no blood or gore, no hi-tech guns or battle ships, no sexy, barely-clothed "girlfriend", AND NO AMERICAN RAMBO-TYPE PERSON/SQUAD TO SAVE MANKIND. Yes, very refreshing to see the "alien invasion" from the point of view of a normal person, who probably did what most people would have done under the circumstances (read: did not go into a fantastical, far-fetched killing frenzy get-inside-the-mothership, shoot-and-slash type mission in which he seems almost invincible).

In fact, as it happened, they hid in their house the whole time, and only came out when they heard on the radio that some Middle Eastern people had come up with a primitive way to make the aliens turn back and leave. Very refreshing.

BTW, I forgot to mention earlier: I saw Beena with her girlfriend when I was in Assumption today. Going strong and looking good.

My sister is begging for the keyboard now.

This day will go down in the annals of sucky days history.

As if losing the vannette's gears wasn't bad enough, my dearly beloved Javie, for whom this blog is named, came down with a flat tire. Count on my mom to constantly antagonize my car. This always happens. Just after she uses it something inevitably breaks down (ie loss of aircon, doesn't start properly, overheating, etc). AND then she blames me for not taking care of it. Talk about looking in the frigging mirror.

I guess my movie night will just have to wait.

All this home-ness and quiet weekend nights is driving me up the wall. The family face time is just TOO fucking much. I can't stand it.

Ahhhhhhhhhh!

Oh yeah, I almost forgot, Trix called me up from LA on my cellfone this afternoon -- in the midst of my vannette crisis. She couldn't sleep. Sira-ulo.

Okay, I just finished eating my staple dinner (tuna sandwich on whole weat with lettuce and tomatoes). What a day. I drove over to Assumption to pick my sister up. Going there was already bad enough as it was raining (which usually means horrendous traffic) and the sound system of the van was shot. BUT. When I got there, I suddenly lost all my gears -- I was driving a stick shift. I tried parking, but couldn't park properly because the engine kept on sputtering like it was on its deathbed, so I tried backing up to look for a bigger slot. Lo and behold, I had lost my reverse as well. Conflabbit.

I had to call my dad, and he had to bring the mechanic inside San Lo. Then we had to leave the old van because it would be too dangerous to drive outside. We ended up riding home with my dad and just leaving everything to the mechanics for them to work their magic.

So no training for the girls. Kyra, of course, threw a fit. Super Ate on the job. Again. Sometimes I wonder when my mom will become mom again. Anytime right now would be good.

Arghh. Must pick my sister up from Assumption today (I'm using the ricketty, slightly disintegrating vannette). At least traffic is getting slightly better. Case in point: last Wednesday, when I got Lia from school, it only took me about 40 minutes to get there, compared to previous years' one full hour.

Ah, there must be hope left yet.

I just set up the new blog, and it has one entry. More to come soon. I hope.

Must fly. Be back later. Quasi-mom duties call.

I'm supposed to go out today with Carms and Arlyn. I totally forgot that my car is bawal today. Color coding and all that. Man, traffic sucks. I've decided to set up another blog, but this one won't be a real journal at all, but more of a novel/story in progress. Something I'll just keep adding to when I feel like it, and hopefully at the end of a few months/years (?) it will amount to something. I'll link to it once it's properly set up.

Gross, I'm still dreaming of rats. How disgusting is that???

Yay for Alex who has finally given in and will commence blog creation soon.

I had a few beers last night with JM, a family friend who's also my brother's best friend. Th three of us (me, J and my bro) took a little late night trip into the party-infested City of Makati to bring JM's girlfriend to this new "in place" called Pipers. We then headed home after our brief soujourn, bought a few SanMig Lites and camped in my room. It was a refreshing way to spend the evening, an event that was brought on by La Salle's term break (because otherwise JM would have been too busy with school).

Quick Nostalgic Realization: I miss brief sojourns. I miss night drives and late-night-spur-of-the-moment beer. I miss movie marathons. I miss going to gas stations to stock up on alcoholoc supplies. I miss being a stone's throw (more or less) away from a battalion of up-for-anything friends. I miss the apartment. I miss Cynthia Alexander Thursday nights and Wednesday night last full shows. I miss having someone to talk to before going to bed. Maite, Anika and Trix, I miss most of all.

Sigh. It feels strange to think that I'll never have that again. The "Apartment Era" is dead.

Sometimes you hold a thing in the palm of your hand so completely, and it meshes with your life so seamlessly that you just take it for granted, and you never really think of it as anything but a dusty portion of rented space to sleep in, eat in, be hygienic in, and to store things in. But then when you look back it suddenly sinks into your skull that you also actually lived there. That for a brief shining moment in your life, that place was also home, and the people in it a sort of surrogate family.

The camaraderie, the laughter, the spontaneous combustion -- they only belong to that particular moment and in that particular place.

And it's over, gobbled up in the hungry vortex of used-up time.

Sigh.

I almost forgot. My sister, Lia, is training to join (hopefully) the Philippine National Swim Team. Kyra, my other sister, is in the training pool as well. I feel like a mom. Well, for all intents and purposes, I sort of am a quasi-mom, I guess. I pick the girls up, bring them home, make sure they do their homework (and in Kyra's case, help her with it), shove them in the car, drive them to training, pick them up from training (and sometimes discuss their training with the training crew), make sure they eat dinner and send them off to bed. I even buy them prizes for when they get good grades. I even have the authority to tell them if they can or can't do something (like go to the mall or a party --> this is mostly because I'm the one they have to beg for a ride). I actually get worried when Kyra gets a B- in a quiz, or when Lia misses dance practice. This is so surreal. When did I sign on for this responsibilty shit?!

And I never wanted to be a mom in the first place.

I have made a couple of plans for the near-future:
1. Go bazaar-ing with Carms. I’m currently checking out the upcoming bazaars so that we can get booths. This is my “in-the-meantime” plan – as I have no job prospects at hand.
2. Next, ask for my pay from various people. I really need the money, and some kids’ parents haven’t paid me three weeks worth of tutorial lessons.
3. Also, must remember to get a life. I suspect this should be put in top priority.

Carms, Arlyn and I have made plans to see Quark Henares’ Gamitan. It’s one of the better bold films out in the market. Or so they say. I also volunteered to help Carms with her “beads and other stuff” production. If she can trust me not to mess it up.

I just answered Trixie’s email today. Speaking of trix, I miss that girl. At least with her, I don’t feel as socially inadequate as I do now. One of us can always just think of something to do with the knowledge that the other will be (more or less) up for it. I sadly feel that my idea of a good way to spend a weekend night (ie holding a bottle of beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other and no crowds) does not sit well with most other people I know. There’s also the level of mental stimulation to think about. And the (extreme) psyhoses. Why is it that most people always seem to be in the midst of some emotional/mental/romantic/familial crisis? I really don’t comprehend that.

But even more mystifying is why these people feel that they have to carry the weight of their lives all over the place. It’s as if they’re actually proud to be languishing in their own personal purgatory. I thought gimmicks were supposed to be relaxing. You get the feeling that it’s a personal mission for them to ground everyone else into the same depressed, in-need-of-a-shrink bit of human pulp.

I sound so mean and heartless, don’t I? I’m sorry. It’s just the frustration of leading such a dreary life leaking out of me. I’m not even exciting enough to have problems of my own – except,
of course, my perennial dilemma of boredom.

I now look like the poster girl for geekiness. Complete with glasses, laptop, and disintegrating social life. Unbrushed hair, unpolished fashion sense and prevailing preference against all things preppy are optional. Batteries not included.

I just heard of more concert plans. Semi-reliable sources say that Oasis will be here on the 23rd of October. Jamiroqui is coming as well. Yes,I shall look into this and confirm. More details to come. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, The Japanese Film Event is free, for all of you who want to know. The Star Trek Support Group is for real. They have weekly meetings and if you're really interested, they meet at Brash Young Cinema every thursday (I think).

Taking out the car is like an ever more difficult daily exercise in geometry. This is what happens when you and your neighbors take in more cars than your garages can hold. You have to back up through a piling maze of different kinds of automobiles, and then make a three point turn amidst more parked vehicles.

Anyway, our new maid is a transvestite. A sexy transvestite at that. And she has really cute shorts. God, our new maid is sexier than me and she's a he.

I just watched the news. There's this whole brouhaha over the illegal Filipino immigrants in Malaysia. There are news of mistreatment, brutality, and general cruelty towards the Filipino deportees. God, just click on the news on the TV and there's no escaping the inevitable wave of depression and hopelessness.

When will this ever end?

My email is like an information dissemination center. Every message I get has a "Please inform relevant groups" or something to that effect. Hence, I had to organize, clean up, and in some cases re-write and then re-route 35 virtual announcements to the proper people. So if you have any questions about the Assumption Reunion on October 19 and 20, or the Green Meadows Bazaar, or the Japanese Film Event, or the Philippine Star Trek support group, or my dad's call center agent wanted ad, just email me and I'll see what I can do.

I made a complete idiot of myself last night. I was outside the main house, in that little alley in the space between the kitchen and my room when I saw a rat scampering dangeroulsy close to my feet. Now all of you who know me also know that I am absolutely terrffied of any member of the rodent family (including gerbils, hamsters, squirrels and all their kith and kin). I completely blanked out for five seconds. The next thing I knew, my mom was dragging me inside the kitchen, my brother was laughing his arse off, and I was screaming like a frigging banshee.

But god, the image of that of that rat is literally burned into my brain. The vile thing was about the size of my palm, and had spiky grey and black fur, that actually glistened (maybe wet from a little trip down the sewers). It looked evil, and menacing, and absolutely gross. I couldn't sleep for awhile because I was afraid it would find some way to sneak into my room, and when I finally dozed off at 4 am, I had nightmares.

I woke up this morning in a sweat. In my dream an over-sized rodent was climbing in my bed and the only thing that could save me was a huge snake that was slithering on the floor. ( In my mind, if the snake ate the rat first I was already saved. Nevermind if it ate me after. I just couldn't bear the thought of touching the rat.)

I aboslutely detest rats. I can't even buy the rat poison they sell in the supermarkets (I think its called racumin) becuse there's a disgusting rat face on the box.

Oh, and please sign my guestbook.

The parents are back. I have a bunch of beaded necklaces (yay! -- I have fifty now, I think). And bracelets. And a really cool necklace that my dad got for me. It's dark/maroon/red knotted glass thing. Really unique and nice. And two new shirts. Quite a nice load. And if you are interested in beaded jewelry (or tribal jewelry) please email me.

Nothing much going on right now. I'm researching on how to make my own e-book and be able to securely put a password protect on it when it is downloaded from my site. Any suggestions? Rij?

But anyway, on to other things. Beena just texted me to tell me she got a lot of compliments for her write up. Yay me.

If you're one of those asking me why I haven't put up anything new in my webpage, let me just answer you this: I have a mental infection. Yep, I must have gotten it through watching Philippine soap operas. The shouts of "Carlos Miguel" (always said in full, never just Carlo or Miguel --> also, played by Dingdong Dantes) coupled with the hundred evil eye twitches of Princess Punzalan and the equally numerous smirks of Belinda Panelo were just too much for my previously sane brain. I'm trying to counter the effects by taking in mega-doses of Scott Fitzgerald, Carson McCullers and a little Narnia.

I got paid today! Money to burn, finally. Although I do kind of like tutoring kids, I don't relish the thought of talking to their parents and having to explain that their chidlren are not half as smart as they think them to be. I mean what kind of parent wants to hear that? Or that their child may be suffering from dyslexia/ADD/ADHD? And who would want to be the bringer of bad news?

Oh well, all in my day job.

I woke up at 5.45 this morning to drive my sister to school (which, by the way, is in another city). Her classes don't start until until 7.45 but that's Manila traffic for you. If we had left just 15 minutes later, she probably wouldn't have made it in time. The thing is though, when you leave that early (around six) you also breeze through the highway, which means she's in school by 6.45 at the latest. Today she got there at 6.30. Imagine being in school an hour early

A lot of people (me included) went through the same shit in grade school and high school too, so it's no use feeling sorry for her.

But my body is still in shock. I haven't woken up this early in a long, long time.

Well, one of the maids is back. Thank goodness. She's in her room, ironing clothes. It's just her and me in the house today. It's kind of eerie, how silent this house can get.

BTW, if you do a search on my name using google, you might see a link telling you that an e-book of mine is up for sale. Also, did you know that if you're afraid of dying laughing you are suffering from cherophobia? Read on this and other useless trivia. Tirelessly dug up by the people from www.ilovebacon.com.

Have you ever re-read things you wrote before and then find that what once seemed funny, clever, unique, brimming with secret society mystery now just seems stale - a mangled, ill-conceived attempt at decrying the establishment? The joke has fallen flat on her face, and without the jester's clothes you are nothing but a sad, unwanted little girl, who is trying so very hard to be different, unique, maybe even profound, but fails miserably.

You begin to aprehend that at heart you are not the person you have led yourself to believe. In fact, after smugly congratulating yourself for never falling into the pit of social dronedom, and never caring much for what people say, and being true to yourself, you realize you feel no sense of accomplishment, no pride.

Then it dawns on you. You are only a pathetic imitation of who you think you are.

Everything else was a hideously wonderful dream.

And then epiphany descends with a vengeance.

And you are horrified. You are the person you have warned others against.

There is no more water in the tank. Therefore we need to have our water delivered. After much searching for the number -- which ofcourse my parents and the maids forgot to leave with us -- we were finally able to place an order. The thing is, they can't come until 5.00 pm. Damn.

Good god, we have no more water. Or we may have water in the tank but we don't know how to make it run into the house. I haven't taken a bath yet. Actually, none of us have taken baths yet. If we don't figure this out in an hour and a half, I will fill a pail up with water and use that to take a bath.

Maybe two pails. Or three.

Or I'll just drive over to my cousin's house and take a bath there. But then I'm sure my siblings will want to take baths too so we will have to drive there by turns since we can't all leave the house at the same time because we're still waiting for the lists delivery (my mom's work).

And then there are the dishes to wash and the pots and pans...

Need agua. Help please.