You are Go Go Yubari, O-Ren Ishii's personal
bodyguard. Cute, young, and insane, you have
no regard for others' lives, save your master.
You will stop at nothing to protect her.


Which Kill Bill Volume 1 character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla




I CANNOT believe she appeared in Ju-On and Battle Royale. Di ko man napansin! I am now officially in love with her.

Word Power

Today I learned that "cult", besides being a noun, may also be used as an adjective to mean "trendy" or "in fashion".

Example:
Her room was laden with varying trinkets from her frequent trips to London and, most probably, from many a handsome man she found gifting her with such delights. From the dreamcatcher that hung low in blue glittery beads to the piece of orange glass that stood regally on her desk, as if a panther waiting to strike, each inch of the four corners had a cult personality.

Revelation

For those who have been following my blogs since Skeletons in My Closet and Make Lemonade, I apologize for posting some entries about love that caused confusion if I was talking about Animator or some other guy. I have been keeping a secret, even from myself, for so long I never had the courage to write about it here. I had an affair with an ex who chose to marry his other ex because she got pregnant. I died after that. Now that it's over, I realized I should not keep hiding from it anymore.

Animator and I are exceptionally fine. I am happy with him; and whatever happened in my past, he has already accepted. When God closes a door, he definitely opens a window. And from mine, I saw Animator ready to shield me from whatever pain and confusion that was boggling my mind, and erase it from my memory.

I will not forget, though. Because what happened caused me shame I never would have imagined would happen to me. I kept another blog for that purpose. And, for the first time, I reveal some its contents.

I hesitated to write here at first for fear that Animator might read it and leave me without hearing an explanation. But now that everything's clear and he has understood, I am not afraid of it anymore.

========
Monday, December 22, 2003 (final entry)

He was brought to me amid the heartache from a previous love and the loneliness wrought by the solitary Christmas Eve. Now, as one year has passed since we first met, I recall the numerous times I shed tears for him. And I see how infinite they are compared to the rare moments I was truly happy in his presence.

Somewhere in the middle of the year, I lost him to another. My pride I swallowed and my sanity I struggled to keep, I kept on seeing him. Though I knew it was a sin against God and against society's entrapments. Love, as I knew it, was powerful enough to transcend boundaries. And I kept meeting him, in dark, obscure places, in hidden, secure corners. While the rest of the lovers made their happiness known. For him, I kept my love secret.

And so we danced among shadows. Glided until our feet could not move any longer. We then stopped and stared, hands clasped at the people whizzing past, thankful that despite conditions, we were together. That we tried to make our lives' flowers bloom even without the sun.

Today, I found out everything had been a lie. Whatever the reason is, it could not expel the fear and anger within me. I knew that it had to end somewhere. Yes, maybe, it has to end here and now. Because it has all been too much. And the lies have been bred, multiplied and intertwined so expertly I cannot distinguish which are truths anymore.

Perhaps it's best this way. That we fought and learned and fought and learned too many times the lessons became part of our souls. This is probably the closure we both needed from the pain of the first lashing of fate's whip. I console myself with the idea that I am but 22 years old and many things are ahead of me.

But I can't help but feel sorry for him, sometimes. For his hope hangs by a thin piece of string. And, in time, it will all be gone and he will be left alone in the world he tried to create; just so I would stay.

It is over. I can attempt to take a step further, but this is as far as I can go.

Joey and I are currently in the process of editing and slashing unnecessaries from his first attempt at a novel (which I won't disclose just yet). I find it amusing, and even shocking, at how I keep talking about my story ideas and be able to finish a single one. Well, except when it's on a deadline and paid for. The plots, including their twists and turns, have been outlined in detail in my note book yet I haven't really sat down to make them come full circle.

Now here comes Joey, an IT guy, with absolutely no professional background in writing, with a huge grin and over 100,000 words of modern romance that could rival Summit's bestselling books. I envy him.

I am the type of person who gets all passionate about an activity in its infancy and then immediately move on to another venture without caring to finish what I started. Jill of all trades, mistress of none. Perhaps this explains why, up until today, despite the many types of writing I have been exposed to, I still do not know where my home is.

I read fantasy books by HP Lovecraft and tell myself, "Hey, I could write something this.". But then I start pressing nose on something by Paolo Coelho and change my mind, "This is not bad, either. I should give it a try."

Where is my voice? Almost two years in the business and I haven't come across it still. You would know when it's there, right? Like when you walk around a crowded warehouse of various "goodies", thinking it impossible to find that one perfect thing that would shut all your senses up and place you in a trance. And then your eyes rest upon a shiny trinket all of a sudden, and no matter how your friends cringe at the item, you turn deaf and trudge proudly to the cashier to pay for it despite the cost. That's what I'm looking for. That's what I still haven't found.

I need to discover my niche. Right now, I seem to be good at editing other people's work. I take pride in seeing how a formerly lost character and an incoherent plot shine brightly, consistently, after I tinker with the play of words. There are times I am forced to believe that, maybe, I am a better editor than a creator.

A lot of maybe's. Perhapses. No definite answers. I try to believe that it comes with age, but I can't. I am told constantly that there still are a lot of opportunities for me to find myself and that I shouldn't hurry so much. I am not in hurry. I am just trying to find out where I'm headed before a part of me gives up and retreats.

This is not a complaint, really. It's more of a reflection on what my goals are. Some of my friends would even kill to get to where I am right now. But I do not wish to compare myself with others. My happiness does not reside on the fact that some of them have it worse than me. If that were true, then I would have been content with myself long ago. But what I have is not enough, at least for me, because have not met my destiny face to face.

Similar to seeking that one true love, I am searching for that one breakthrough story that would drive me nuts and have me lock myself up for days until I finish. Angel was right. When that single grand idea pops into my head, I would definitely go ballistic. But until it has decided to introduce itself to me, I will have to keep going... and searching.

---

Joey's book hopefully comes out within the year. We're crossing our fingers we get the job done by April, ready for another go with the prospective publishers. It's a story of discovering true love when least expected, losing it, and then finding it again.

Commercial Muna

MEETING

Since the Pinoy Exchange Book Club has been inactive for the past few months, I suggest we meet ASAP or else we'll be dissolved. Can we meet on January 31? It's a Saturday. I agree with Tina11 that it should be within the Makati or Mandaluyong area. Should we hold it at Shangrila Mall again?

Please email damnqueen@yahoo.com if you're set on going. Or text me at 0917 918 85 70 with your name or pex nick and preferred meeting time and place.

Anybody, and I mean ANYBODY, is welcome to join. Pex member or not.

We'll decide on the book at the meeting. Meanwhile, let's take the time to revive the Club and get friendly.

Contact me ASAP. Thanks!

Moonlighting

I have to agree with my parents when they said writing as a profession will not bring me to the great financial heights I have been aching for. True. While freelancing may expose your byline to a number of publications (thus, earning you one step up the popularity ladder by the article), it certainly does not pay as well as a regular job, nor does it dish out the cash when expected.

One thing a freelancer must be prepared for is the delay in payment. I do not speak of the entire publication industry, only about 90% of it. (haha!) As much as I want to churn out only creative pieces of literature, I am compelled to write technical papers, manuals, business abstracts and all sorts involving writing, even brochures, just to get my bills paid on time.

There are some projects, though, that come as a one-time big-time affair. But money runs out eventually and I know wouldn't be able to keep writing once my mind gets distracted with frantically finding the next gig that would put money in my wallet.

This is the same reason why most writers opt to keep their 8-5, or in my case, 1-9 job to keep me going. It allows me to write, yes, but not the masterpieces I have been dreaming about. And sometimes, sadly, it strips of the passion little by little.

I have to be practical. For what use is an undernourished writer to the realm of words? And frankly, I have no plans of dying of hunger just yet.

In the meantime, that award-winning piece will have to wait.

The comments services linked to blogspot are starting to become a real pain in the neck. If this keeps up, I might have to transfer to livejournal. Grrrrr..... This is the nth time I've changed hosts. HaloScan seems to be having the same problem BlogSpeak had. The sudden rush of users perhaps? I hope this doesn't happen with CommentThis. Though I must admit, the site look a little "jologs" na.

Woe to me who knows zilch about html codes.

Finally...

I met Mrs Santos last Saturday when Animator called me at around 12 noon to join them at Megamall. She was shopping for home appliances for him and for their other relatives. I told him I'd be glad to make an appearance but would have to evaporate by 1:00 to go to the Science Fiction Convention at Rockwell.

Anyway, I remember Animator telling me before that his mother was really stern and was not afraid to speak her mind. So if she didn't like, then she'd definitely not waste a moment to make me feel it. And so there I was, looking a pink and girly, face to face with the Dark Overlord. She leaned over when I said 'Hi, good afternoon, po." and kissed my cheek!!!!

I was prepared just to do the handshake, for safety purposes. You know how some mother's don't like the girlfriends to be all pa-close and stuff, but this particular mother actually appeared to like me! (Thanks to St Ives Apricot Scrub and Body Shop Papaya Soap)

According to Animator, this is what she said after we met.

"Okay naman. Maputi siya and mukhang edukada. And hindi siya parang kung sinu-sino lang."

Can I jump for joy now??? She gave me a cheongsam-inspired shirt, a tank top, chocolates and lipstick. Wow, may pasalubong pa pala ako.

When I told some of my friends, one of them had the gall to ask if they were gonna hear wedding bells, soon. NO. It's only five months into our relationship and marriage is still faaaaaaaaaar from our plans. We don't even have enough money to pay our monthly bills, much less support each other. And, really, 5 months isn't enough to make THAT final decision. We just go with the flow.

Pulse dancing

Dancing was never my forte. Sure I could gyrate obsessively in packed club, but when all critical eyes and cameras are on me showing off my moves at a rather spacious pseudo-stage, I would definitely feign illness and drop to the floor. Friday night, when that awful cameraman from one of the major networks pointed to me and Fran to join the impromptu dance contest, I almost died.

So what if Brad Turvey was actually pulling my hand to the dance floor? Heck I wouldn't dance in front of so many media people even if it meant a trip to the Bahamas! But I did. The Miss Dying to be an Artista in me took over and I shyly (f*king kuneho) followed him to the front with Fran. We were paired with this guy from MB because the contest called for 2 girls and guy. And guess what? We had to follow the dance steps of what is destined to be the newest sensation all around the Metro in the coming weeks.

The lights blinded me. Thinking that since we were already there, embarrassing ourselves, we might as well win that damned thing. We had a nemesis in people from WT. At least, we weren't the only ones making asses of ourselves onstage. Fran said something about not wearing her dancing shoes. Wow, if I had been wearing MY so-called dancing shoes, I still wouldn't be able to follow the steps.

We won, nevertheless. I'm sure it wasn't the dancing prowess as we HARDLY moved at all. The PR people said we hooked the grand prize with our final pose with the guy. And of course, the smiles. Charming.

Post chaos, Fran and I played pa-cool starstruck girlies and braved facing Brad Turvey to have our pictures taken with him. Of course, we didn't gush all over the guy! With all our drool trapped inside, we made sure we kept our mouths shut lest they be all over the place.

What made the night complete, however, was the discovery that we have been awarded portable Audio/VCD players the size of Discmans (with remote controls!). And probably some TV exposure. As Fran I joked, this is step 2 to breaking into showbiz. Fantastic! (Now if I could only convince Animator to make me an extra in Kakabakaba….)

They say you look ten pounds heavier on television. Say hello to Dabiana when you guys see me on TV. But don't blink or you'll lose me.

Frannie, if you're reading this, I really had fun. I know I said I'm way past all that partying till you drop moments but what we did catapulted me back to how I was in college, only tamer. Hahaha! After all, we did go home by 10 o'clock.