It's Friday and, still, I haven't begun writing that 1350-word feature article due tomorrow, nor have I transcribed the taped interview. That means I will have to lose sleep over it tonight. Either that or I forego the Pinoy Writers workshop I've long wanted to attend. My vote's on the second option. I don't think I have the drive to do any writing tonight. I plan on watching that Asian horror flick Inner Senses. If it's good, I am yet to find out.

Better than Once Upon a Time in Mexico. Although my friends have been urging me to see it, I have a nasty aversion to movies that have protagonists looking like they haven't taken a bath for months. I'm sorry. I just hate shiny noses. Add that to the fact that there's hardly anything original with the title. This I noticed with the influx of new movies. The titles are either rehashes from old ones, or taken from some stupid song. I surmise that with the increasing dependence of man on technology and things material, creativity and imagination has slowly gone down the drain.

And so I prefer the formulaic Japanese or Chinese horror flicks. At least, I get scared.

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.

I need to make myself a business card. They were exchanging cards this afternoon after the interview and I was the only one without THE TOOL. If I am to pursue a full-time career in freelance writing by next year, I should be building my client base as early as now. It never occured to me before how important such cards were, but seeing what happened about 30 minutes ago, it became apparent that a business card would somehow propel you into the freelancing business. I cannot just expect people to remember me because I have a very interesting surname. There has to be something tangible so they won't easily forget. Darn. I knew I should have pushed for the creation of a card months ago. I used to get projects from referrals. But what about those people who have never seen my work? How would they place me in their pool of choices? Yes, a card is definitely in order.

I welcome myself to the real world of professional writing.

In 30 minutes, I will be facing Mr. Incredible. I pray to the high heavens I don't mess up. It's odd how a thousand potential interview questions are springing from everywhere. I'd like to add them to my original list of questions. That is, if I get away with them. We already sent questions last week and I'm sure he'd notice that some of those I will be asking today are not on the original set. I pray he won't make flippant and sarcastic remarks. Otherwise, I would melt in embarrassment and probably say goodbye to future writing stints with the magazine.

I am stalling. The associate editor wants to meet me first at the coffeeshop across the tycoon's office to discuss particulars. It's been so long since I conducted an interview. I'm not sure if I still remember how to do it.

Good luck to me.

I'm so glad blogging is not banned in this office. YET. I cannot ascertain the days to come.

I am beginning to feel the repercussions of my being the ultimate mercenary.

Tomorrow, I conduct an interview with one of the most powerful (and handsome) executives in the Philippines. I dare not say his name, lest I be accused of namedropping. Hahahaha! I consider it such a privilege to be able to delve into the mind of such a man. I'm sure he's as human as the rest of us, only he's got more money to develop his inner self. I hope to learn a lot from him tomorrow. Deadline will be in five days from the interview. Meaning, Sunday. I don't freak out much over it. The article is expected to be a feature. And features don't really make me break much sweat. I hope my laziness won't get to me.

On Wednesday, I am set to present the draft outline of the UN manual I've been working on with a co-writer for two weeks. It pisses me off why I have to do the presenting in front of those government officials. What if I stutter? What if I appear to know nothing about the whole damn thing? This was never stated in the contract. From what I understood, the technical writer is supposed to WRITE, not PRESENT to a panel. My nails are nearly done. I've been biting on them since I learned of the presentation THIS MORNING! yes, just this morning. Thank you Chaspar, PNAC and UN for telling me 2 days before. You truly took my cramming habits to heart. On a lighter note, I wonder who among the officials I will get to meet on Wednesday? I pray I don't mess things up. If I do this well, it could mean more projects, not only from the UN, but maybe from one of the members of the panel.

I am such a merc. And it's hurting me day by day.

And you ask why I hardly blog? Yes, because I have too many things on my mind. It's in a clutter too often, I forget to think about what I really want.

Buhay nga naman. Parang life.