Yes, I have been deliberately screening the juicy information on my personal life because so many people read this page. Call it narcicissm if you must. I'd like to believe it's obvious I'm holding something back. These stories untold will remain in their little niche until all things that surround them are in place. There are many circumstances in which they are not allowed to circulate. For now, they exist only in my mind.

What I can talk about, however, is how excited I am that projects are beginning to pour in for the nth time. It's true that my name is tainted in some areas of the industry. That's because I used to walk out of assignments without bothering to tell editors what I planned on doing. I used to begin articles that never saw print because I got too lazy to finish them halfway. I'm sure some potential clients got turned off. Some probably told their friends about me. The girl who cancels all the time.

The UN project I'm currently working on is not something I can walk out of. Well, I could, if I wanted to. It's a highly stressful responsibility and I can't mess it up. My output will serve as a guideline for many government agencies and NGOs in handling immediate migratory cases. That would mean I have to be more conscientious about my writing. And, no, contrary to my usual habit of procrastinating, I cannot do it overnight. I may have gotten away with it in my first draft, but I don't think I can still afford to dilly-dally on the second. It's nerve-wrecking, but I have to finish it whether I like it or not.

Fate has given me a second chance at redeeming myself in the writing scene. As I said to a friend, I wonder what good I did to deserve another chance. I can't be that good. In fact, I don't even consider myself good. There are a lot of things I do not and wish to know. I also feel that what I have in my arsenal is not enough to make me a good writer. I seek something else. Maybe something more. However, I have a feeling I will never get to discover what it is. I am the type who is never satisfied. The dissatisfied procrastinator. At least another word is added to my overall description.

I have a deadline for a feature article on Saturday and a screening/interview for a national daily on Sunday. I am as nervous as hell. When I was younger, I had the notion that I could take on any writing assignment. Now, I feel as if the magic has taken a vacation. In fact, it has been touring other lands for years. I do not fear writer's block. There is no such thing. What I fear is not wanting a project hard enough, because almost everything I'm doing now is done half-heartedly. If I don't seek it badly, I am bound to fail. The blank sheet of paper will show through me. They will see that I'm not as obsessed as some people are.

What do I really want out of life? For now, I do not have answers. Or maybe, I'm just not asking the right questions.