HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Can I just share? I was reading this blog by some girl living abroad who boasts about her sexual escapades with her lesbian lover. I would have believed she actually wrote those things if she did not say

"... I only have two hours of sleep a day. So that makes me an amnesiac"

HAHAHAHAHHA!!!!

What the hell is an amnesiac???? aaahahahahahaha!!!!!!!

Results to the Jologs ka ba? exam.

You scored 27 out of 30!

GENUINE JOLOGS. Chances are, you know all these things because the only way mother or yaya can shut you up is to prop you in front of the TV when you were a kid. There's nothing bad about knowing showbiz facts even if the inside of your closet door is lined with pictures of your favorite love team which you made while listening to your CDs of Michael Learns to Rock.

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I beg to disagree! I never have, do not, and never will like Michael Learns to Rock. Pero who wants to bet I know the lyrics to almost all of their songs? Hahaha! Much like my amazement when I discovered I know the songs of April Boy Regino after listening to them once. No wonder the guy's rich. He's like the Sandman. He penetrates dreams.

I am so bored today that I even managed to wipe all the things on my desk with alcohol. Not that I wanted to really disinfect my stuff, because I don't care. There is absolutely nothing else to do here besides sulk, and I've done that already. My boredom has even gone beyond my Catholic schoolgirl education and led me to search my friends names over the Internet. I discovered that there are quite a number of articles that include my name. I also unearthed some juicy information about a good friend's dating history.

I am tempted to just walk out of the office and curl up in a cafe somewhere. I brought a very thick paperback copy of Neil Gaiman's American Gods with me. It was intended to save me from the void but I can't seem to do any reading, or anything creative for that matter in this office. Maybe I should just go downstairs in a few minutes and lounge about at the nearest Seattle's Best coffeshop. However, thinking that I do have to return to the office to punch out after 8 makes me have second thoughts.

That's how lazy I am. I'd rather blog nonsense and stare at the moving cars below than savor the comfort of a good cup of coffee and a huge cushioned chair. WhY? Because I don't want to have to walk 3 minutes to Seattles and back another 3 minutes to the office when the clock strikes 8. ARgh. I wish we had a room where employees could rest. Sort of like that room in some Japanese restaurant in Japan (duh) that allegedly contained things you could destroy at will, that is, for relief from stress. Now who was the friend who told me that again? I don't remember. Whether it exists or not, I wish somebody in the Philippines or in this office would be crazy enough to recreate such a room. So people who are terribly bored and stressed and empty, like me, can have a place for release.

I sense this blog would get longer, because, as the obvious projects, I have nothing else to do. The office TV is in the conference room and is not connected to cable programming. It used to be in the pantry but they had to move it for some presentation. I wish they'd put it back so I could watch Just Shoot Me at 7:30. I have an evil idea of just leaving the office before 8. I don't think anybody would notice. Everyone's eyes are glued to their respective computers. Or I could just tell a lie and say I'll be back when I won't.

Good idea? It does sound like one but I'd rather not risk losing my job. Right now, the only things available for me to do is walk to the pantry and get water from the dispenser. Because, though the office regularly supplies coke to its employees, it is not scheduled to stock up until next week. so that means, there is no Coke in the fridge and I only have water to drink. NO TV. No Coke. No activity. No Life.

I'm complaining because I'm bored. I have other things to do besides sit around and sulk. But I can't do anything about it, can I? I feel the urged to hide under one of the long tables and sleep. We have wall to wall carpeting anyway.

Sucks. To death.

This coming 2004 election, I expect to be sitting at home waiting for results to appear. This, I would do, while munching on some chips and reading whatever novel might interest me at that moment. I will not be out there, lining up, all sweaty from the eternal wait to finally press my be-inked thumbed onto a sheet of yellowish paper. Instead, I will be safely and comfortably tucked at home.

I did not register to vote this year. I never did. The Philippine government is more like a second-hand vehicle. You may tinker with its engine to make it start anew, or give it a full paint job. In the end, it's the same car. It never changed. It was just given a jump start so it could function for a couple of months, years, then conk out on you again, like it did with its first owner.

I used to believe there is something we can do to improve the government. But reality dictates that there isn't. You cannot change what doesn't want to be changed. You cannot alter what 8.3 million people have already been accustomed to doing and living with. The best thing we can do is accept and make the most out of it. Idealism holds no place in this wretched land.

This is not my excuse for not wanting to participate in electoral procedures. I'm just lazy so I don't. Sue me.

Posted this a couple of months ago in the WiKi service my friend developed. It's good to reminisce.

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The first day wasn't too great, but it wasn't the pits either. I console myself with the fact that my new boss seems to like how I perform, being a first-timer in the business and all. I can legitimately label myself a techwriter now. How convenient. What exactly is a techwriter, anyway? In bitch lingo, it's a writing job for those who have no streak of romanticism in their blood. This kills. I consider myself an art freak, but my employment description pales significantly with my "real skills". What a life.

I probably should attend the Pinoy Writers EB on October 18. It would be refreshing to finally meet the people behind all the emails I've been receiving for the past months. At times, I regret not being active in the discussions. I feel as if everyone's friends with everyone already. It could get awkward and I would feel out of place.

But why should I? I have been reading their mail and what's happening to their lives every single day. You must know that PW members are very prolific writers. And I don't mean artistic pieces. I mean they actually have the time to write lengthy emails about anything that can be discussed. From publishing rights, legalese, personal experiences and even GMO.

What have I to contribute to that? I consider myself a rather private person, albeit loud. Talking about my personal life with people I don't know is a little taboo. It's funny because I can't even write about such events. I keep them all in this little nook called my brain.

Attending the EB would probably be a liberating experience for me. But, as I told one of my friends, writers honestly don't enjoy being with other writers. Most of us prefer solitude and recluse. I should also mention that writers are very egotistical. They don't like being placed beside fellows because each believes that his/her work is totally different from another. I do believe this. There is no point of comparison. I fear that the EB would only be venue to show off. That's what usually happens with meetings like that. People come and wear their badges of recognition so conspicuously so everyone would see what he/she has accomplished so far.

I do not say I am an exception to this. More often than not, I come to a writers' meeting prepared to machine-gun-fire them will all my credentials in 3 minutes. I hope this wouldn't be the case with the PW EB. I'd like to see fellow writers who are genuinely concerned with helping others develop their skills. I also hope to see less sycophants in the scene. Those who gush all over you, saying "Oh my god, so you're X! I think you're work is really great! I mean, like, wow!"

I do love the attention but sometimes it can get sickening. Especially when I know the piece they're raving about did not even pass my personal standards and was only written and published because it had to be there. I don't appreciate fandom too much. I'd prefer they stop gushing and start writing their own sets of articles.

I'm straying from my topic. But, well, I don't really have a topic today. I just need release from all the stress I've been having recently. I write in the hopes that lexical release would relieve me of the flu. And I write because I have something to write about.