June 29, 2003

LAST night's plans seemed seamless.

Was going to attend the staff meeting in the office at six, be back home before eight, zip over to Chrissie's party for dinner and maybe a few drinks and then head off to Malate and meet up with my friends at the Gay Pride celebration.

But most days never turn out the way you planned and yesterday was no different. The staff meeting lasted 'til nine, my friends flaked out, I was the last to arrive at Chri's party and I ended up spending half the night at her house.

Most of her guests had left by the time I got there and there was a huge table of food waiting just for me. When I was done stuffing myself with the excellent food [caesar salad, russian salad, killer lechon, pancit, lumpia, fried chicken, ube cake], we just hung around, drank a little and talked a lot.

We talked about a lot of things.

Happy Feet Sandals [Amazing how all my aunts - and even my mom - had their own pairs when they were young. And they all remember the sandals fondly.], dentistry [Of course! Congratulations, Chri!], celebrity gossip, the quirkiness of our family, school rules, high school literature, monks, priests, convents, sex change operations, India, the caste system, fixed marriages, female genital mutilation, the plight of women in Afghanistan [Yes, really.].

And that's just scratching the proverbial surface.

It was a good day for talking.

Maybe today would be a good day for action.


***

PREPAID card ran out at the worst possible time.

At three a.m. when I couldn't ask Supernanny to go out and buy a new one.

Had to resort to digging through my stack of old used internet cards to salvage the few minutes some of them might have left.

And yeah, the lucky bitch that I am, some of them still work.

Used what was left of one to update an old blog post.

Used another to e-mail Dragondude.

I'm using a third one to post this entry.

I still have eleven left.

Yeah, I think they'd last me 'til the morning. Or at least 'til I doze off.


***

The two three stooges

June 28, 2003

FIRST photo I submitted to The Mirror Project.

Still waiting for approval. They're up.


***

I was a teenage doormat

Not too many people know but I used to be a doormat.

And today I had to recount the tale of my idiocy to a group of eight or ten people, I didn’t really count. How I was almost duped into purchasing designer drugs in Hong Kong and then sneaking them back into Manila (it’s not as dramatic as it sounds, really). How I transcribed hours and hours of interviews that weren't even mine. How this bitch used to steal my articles and printed them as her own with her own fucking byline. How I endured shit for a year. (But hey, a year is just 365 days. Some women let their husbands beat them up for decades. I will not be one of them.) How nice I used to be.

But I ended my sad pathetic story with delicious words, delicious words I’d chew and gnat on for all their worth – “that was before.” Yeah, that was before, that was in the past, is not happening now, will never happen again.

And just today, I had several chances to prove to myself that I’m no longer that girl.

Because Shakey’s delivered the wrong pizza to my door. There was a time when I would have said, “oh well, they would get it right next time” and I would have reached for the first slice of the wrong pizza, disappointed but not really willing to do anything about it. But today I didn’t. Today I called them and told them about their mistake. I was polite but I demanded that they deliver the right pizza to my house, that I ordered pepperoni crunch and I don’t even like pepperoni that much so damnit, I wanted needed the crunch. Less than an hour later, they delivered the right pizza, sprinkled with loads of apologies.

Then, at the first staff meeting I attended as a real employee of the company I’ve been working for for almost half a decade now, I spoke up. I shared ideas and anecdotes and bagged some very interesting assignments. And after the meeting, I pitched ten story ideas to my boss – ideas I would really really love to work on - two of which I'd be working on this coming week. Some were a bit crazy but I didn’t shy away from voicing them out. Better try and be rejected than be the idiot who does nothing but think about the could-have-beens. No sign of being a doormat there.

And the best thing about these things is they come naturally now. There isn’t any real effort to conquer the old me because she’s really just not there - she's gone. Maybe she left, maybe she died, maybe she killed herself. I don't know.

I used to be nice. The girl who’s too polite for her own good. The girl you could abuse. Not anymore.

So don’t mess with me. I’m no doormat.

Or, as Astroboy would say, I’m no carpet.




 
YOU know you don't have even an ounce of self-restraint in your body when you cannot just walk into a nail spa, buy something and leave without getting your nails done.

I'm terrible, I know.

***

Girls' Night Out

After salivating over Demi Moore...

***

Two of the too many sides of Pammy [also known as The Footwear Says It All]

The strong-snarling-step-out-of-my-way-if-you-don't-like-pain-I-mean-business office Pammy

The softie-nice-tired-sleepy-fidgety-marshmallowy-I-like-to-be-cuddled home Pammy




June 26, 2003

Black Jeans and Donuts [also known as My First Attempt at Patois]

No one cyaan test mi Dragondude. Gorgonbwoy is mi fambly. He is rhygin, tallowah and upful. Wat ah irie bway fayva patoo. He seh mi baxide and mi aire a irie. He no axe me de question "how yuh nyam so much". I too hard aise but he no call me "yu dam Lagga head bud." I-man chaka-chaka but he no lef. He no seh "no badda mi." He nah do dat.

A so im tan.

Mi a lucky, nuh true?

If smaddy seh somting bad bout Dragondude, I feel cut up bout di ole ting. Ef yuh choble him yuh ina big choble, 'im me a-go hit yuh. Lawd have mercy pon yuh.


***

I AM so seriously going to study Patois.

I love it.


***


Blame Yahoo! not me

SINCE I log into Yahoo! Messenger using my laptop, my office computer, this other laptop I'm reviewing and my mobile phone, my offline messages always get lost in the process.

Just this morning, when I checked Yahoo! on my mobile phone, I saw that I had seven messages. But since Globe's GPRS connection is sucky, I wasn't able to read them. I checked my messenger again using my office computer - the seven messages had disappeared.

And that has happened a lot.

If you have been leaving messages and I haven't been replying, don't blame me.

It's Yahoo!'s fault.


***


Oh my

Me: [while on the phone with some girl from Shakey's]: "Should I get the party pizza or large lang?"
Tim: "Party!"
Me: "Are you sure? That's twelve slices."
Tim: "Hmm. Can we finish that? How big is the large pizza?"
Me: "Eight slices."
Tim: "Hmm. I dunno, what do you think?"
Me: "Party?"
Tim: "Yeah, so we'd have enough to last the whole night."

Fast forward to about two hours after the phone call.

Pizza box is empty. Not a single slice of Pepperoni Crunch is left. There are two empty cans of soda on the table. Tim looks a little dazed, traces of oil still on his fingers. The first two buttons on my jeans are unbuttoned.

Me: "Whoa, we ate the whole pizza."
Tim: "Oh my..."

***


SHAKEY'S Pepperoni Crunch is so good that I've been ordering it every day for three days straight.


***


SOMETIMES I get so involved in whining about this unfair world that I lose my grasp on my goals and my focus and my reasons and the things that make me who I am until I have this moment, this tiny moment that would be insignificant for everyone else but me, a moment that puts me back where I was, a moment that sets things in place, a moment that reminds me why I'm here, why I'm doing what I'm doing and why I am who I am.

And everything is good again.


***

MY Patois just got enthusiastic approval from two Jamaican dudes. One's opinion matters more but hey, I need all the approval I can get.

Now if only I can find someone to talk with.

Me ah look fi yahd people in ah Manila.







 
June 27, 2003

Postcards from the past few days

Dear Mr. Cab Driver,

I'm sorry that I denied you the joy of having me agree that you look like Aga Muhlach. I'm sorry that when you pointed to his Jollibee billboard and said that was you, I said, "Oh, I didn't know you used to be a bee." I'm sorry I asked you how you got rid of your wings. I try to be nice sometimes but it's not easy.

Thank you for locking all the doors when I got in, for learning your lesson after the passenger before me lost her mobile phone to a snatcher who stuck his hand into your cab and left her crying. Thank you for offering me candy, even though I didn't take it, I appreciated the gesture. Thank you for making me laugh, you were very funny in a weird way. Thank you for not getting riled up even when surrounded by idiots driving, thank you for just laughing their stupidity off because heated drivers make me nervous. Thank you too for driving like you wanted to be Schumacher despite the traffic, for getting me to my destination on time.

You used words like exaggerate and reminisce and journalism and it made me wonder what you were doing driving a cab when you could be out teaching the world things.

But I didn't have to wonder for long because without me having to ask, you started talking about how you wished you had a better job, how you went to college but decided to stop when an oil company offered you a good job, how you took the job and blew your money on your friends, how you lost the job because you were booted out with many others, how you regret leaving school, how much you wanted a better life for you and your wife.

In the stretch of time between my house and my destination, you made me look at myself, at my own life, at my own mistakes.

And I kicked myself for wondering, because from behind the wheel, you are teaching the world things, one passenger at a time.


Dear Annoying Prick,

Didn't your mother teach you anything? Didn't she say that when you see a person fussing over her arm because an unidentified insect just bit her and left it all swollen and it hurts like hell and she fears that it's spreading all the way down to her hand and that it could be poisonous and she could be on the verge of death any second and some other people have been saying it probably wasn't an insect and that it might be voodoo, that is not the time to try to be cute and bug her? Didn't your mom tell you that? Guess not. Or maybe she did and you did not listen, because I would totally expect that from you. You're lucky you just got a sneer and an angry retort. Because the next time you start on me, I am going to make sure I am not being threatened by witchcraft and scared and weakened by the possibility of death. The next time, I promise you, I am going to plant a solid kick between your legs.


Dear Genius Aunt,

You're probably still flying over our heads now, on your way back home. And now we're still arguing about who you look like. Fifi says it's Joni Mitchell, that you even sing like her. But I think you're a cross between Alanis Morissette and Demi Moore.

I'm so glad the Happy Feet sandals I surprised you with fit perfectly. That and hearing you say, "Oh, how pretty!" made my day. I hope you weren't weirded out when I said I checked your rubber shoes and the high-heeled pumps you passed on to the maids so I could estimate the size you needed. I'm glad too that you like the fact that you can change the straps to match your clothes.

I haven't started reading the books yet although I keep them on my sidetable. I think I've been more stable these past days and it's good. Anxiety and panic levels seem to be very very low. And I have you to thank for that.

I love how you talk to me and Chri and Fi and Kat about our lives and our plans and how proud you are of us.

We don't know if you know, but we're very very proud of you too.

You're our genius aunt - that's pretty damn amazing.


***

TWO days before Genius Aunt left, we were all sitting around the dining table, talking about our lives. Chri said something about me writing a book and I talked about how I gave myself a deadline, that I wanted my first book to be out by the time I'm 22 but it looks like it won't happen because I would only be 22 for four more months. Ended my speech with, "Yeah, I'm a little hard on myself sometimes."

Genius Aunt said something about giving herself a deadline too but she gave herself until 25. And I said, "Okay, that gives me three years."

I know Genius Aunt more than beat her deadline - she whipped it. She has her own page on Amazon, for crying out loud.

The next day, she gave me a little gift along with this note: "Looking forward to your first book. Any age before 30 is remarkable."

The note was a bigger gift.


***


Catching up

jules: are you still a vegetarian?
cookiedoughjunkie: no
jules: pls say no
cookiedoughjunkie: hahaha
jules: thank God
cookiedoughjunkie: :)
jules: di kaya ng powers ko yun if ever
cookiedoughjunkie: im eating pepperoni pizza now



 
June 25, 2003

ONE of my greatest joys in life is bugging Astroboy.

But I tried not to bug him last night. I had to be nice to him because he accidentally left his wallet in a cab and lost five thousand pesos, credit cards, his driver's license and other IDs in the process.

We SMSd about it.

Astroboy: "Say somthng smart to help keep me frm thnkng about it dude."
Me: "i just watched charlie's angels! it was so much fun!"
Astroboy: "that helpd i ges :) altho u own an overpriced laptop i cant afford & that pisses me off a little"

Not bugging Astroboy is a challenge I couldn't hurdle. So when J and I finally got back to the office from the premiere night, I called his mobile phone to annoy him.

Me: "Dude, are you asleep?"
Astroboy: "No, staring at the ceiling."
Me: "What are you thinking about?"
Astroboy: "Dude, I'm not gonna go down to call you. Let's just text. At least I don't have to listen to you."
Me: "You're gonna call me, man, coz you miss me."
Astroboy: "No, man, there are mosquitos downstairs."
Me: "Sacrifice a little."
Astroboy: "Fine."
Me: "Wait, call me in the office."
Astroboy: "No, I'll call you tomorrow when you're at home."
Me: "No, call me now. Just call the trunkline and say lifestyle."

After a few minutes, our office phone was still silent. I called him again.

Me: "Dude, are you crawling down?"
Astroboy: "I'm. Calling. You. Now."

The office phone rang.

Me: "Hello?"
Astroboy" "May I speak to the resident asshole please?"
Me: "She went home already."
Astroboy: "Hey, why did you ask me to look for nice girl?"
Me: "Huh?"
Astroboy: "You said to look for nice girl when I called."
Me: "Duh! Lifestyle! You're not only old, you're deaf."

More excerpts.

Astroboy: "Are you still embarrassing yourself by having a nanny?"
Me: "I'm having problems with her, the other maids are complaining...I might have to let her go."
Astroboy: "You know what? You shouldn't have had her in the first place. You know what? You're old."

Astroboy: "Can I send you MMS?"
Me: "Yeah. Do you want me to send you my picture?"
Astroboy: "No. Tangina. I read your blog, I listen to you now and you send me your picture? What's that?"

Me: "I just don't want to act like a guy again."
Astroboy: "You're gonna grow a dick?"

Astroboy: "Blah blah blah..."
Me: "That's stupid. No man, that's beyond idiocy."

Astroboy: "So what did you say to the girl?"
Me: "I don't know, I don't even know if I smiled or said thanks.."
Astroboy: "You probably didn't. You probably had your neutered cat look again."
Me: "What does a neutered cat look like?"
Astroboy: "I had this issue of Mad Magazine and there was a cartoon about this guy who neutered his cat and the cat just kept staring at him all day, with wide eyes and no frown, no smile, no nothing."
Me: "And I do that?"
Astroboy: "Well yeah. That spaced out look, the blah look."
Me: "Huh?"
Astroboy: "And then sometimes you just have your mouth open. Remember? You read with your mouth open."

That's us being nice to each other. Really.


***

WENT to the premiere of Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle.

Movie was a bit too much but it was a lot of fun. You just have to force your mind to stop working and make your inner critic shut up to enjoy it.

Demi Moore is absolutely beautiful. She stirs my inner lesbian and makes her happy.

But watching her made me miss my hair too.

I'm going to stop talking about my hair soon, I swear.

***

ASTROBOY thinks I kinda look like her. I don't watch Six Feet Under but J tells me that she's disturbed and screwed up.

In the distant and not-so-distant past, people have told me that this actress and these characters remind them of me too.

What is it with me and disturbed chicks?

***

CHRI passed the board! My cousin is a dentist now! I hate dentists but not her!

I told you I told you I told you! I knew you'd make it!

I was so happy I think I screamed and laughed at the same time!

I am soooo proud of you!

Look at all the exclamation points!!!

audblog audio post

This crazy woman will soon be pulling out your teeth



 
June 24, 2003

Worst bridesmaid of the year all time

"You are the most delinquent bridesmaid in the history of the world!"

Yes, Jules, I deserve that title.

And I'm sorry.

I swear to god, I really intended to go to Rajo's last week but the flood stopped me. I didn't want to try my gorgeous bridesmaid's gown on after wading through the murky water, no way. I didn't actually wade through the murky water - in fact, I didn't step out of the house - but you know what I mean.

But I promise to go either later or tomorrow.

I promise, cross my heart, hope to never buy another pair of boots again.

I also promise not to lose or gain too many pounds within the next two months as not to require major alterations.

And on your wedding day, I promise not to spill anything on my gown before I walk down the aisle. No, scratch that, I promise not to touch anything that might stain the dress from the moment I put it on to the moment I take it off. No nail polish, chocolate milk, tomato sauce, red wine, no no no way.

I promise not to wear boots on your wedding day.

I also promise not to trip over my high heels when I walk down the aisle.

I also promise not to get drunk at the reception and make an idiot of myself. [You should ask J to make that promise too.]

Really. I promise.

Because it's your special day and I'm happy for you and I know how excited you are and I want that day to be absolutely perfect, to be beautiful and magical and to be something your grandkids and your great grandkids and all the other kids will be hearing about.

And, this is more for me than for you but still, I promise to be a better bride than I am a bridesmaid.

So please please please help me, God.


***

Superherozero?

Supernanny may not be super after all.

The other maids, the laundrywoman and the nurse have been complaining about her.

Some complaints were valid, other complaints were petty but one fact remains - her arrival has disrupted the natural harmony in this household.

And now I need to iron things out.

There is a huge possibility that Supernanny will be taking off her cape to go back to her normal life soon.


***

Switching gears

Because Supernanny was late in coming back from her weekend trip to the province, I spent the cab ride to the office in silence, thinking about life.

I don't know if it was the new boots, the new haircut or something else entirely, but I felt really good.

The more I thought about my world, the more I fell in love with it.

And what's not to love?

I am loved, deeply. And I'm not going to take it for granted.

I am once again within the loving circle of my imperfect but wonderful family.

I have friends who are amazing when sober and amazingly funny when drunk.

I am surrounded by people who care enough to curse and get mad when they hear about how the universe and its bad people can be unfair to me sometimes.

I have loyal people who remain loyal to me, hacked-off hair and all.

I have our own songs to sing and they need major polishing but shit, that's still an age-old dream that has turned into reality.

I get to do the things I want and when I want to.

I get to write - not just for work but for me too.

I am not rich but I get what I need - a lot of the times even what I want. And sure, I'd love to be rich, who wouldn't, but right now this is good enough. It is.

So screw the crap I've had to deal with career-wise because life is good.

I got to the office late but I was happy and perky and ready to be nice to everyone.

And for the most part, I think I stayed that way the whole day.

The rest of the world made it easy.

I'm glad.

And above that, I'm grateful.


***


Things that made me happy this past day or so:

My new boots.
Sally Hansen's Chrome Nail Makeup.
How easy it is to dry my hair now that it's shorter.
Sam's walnut brownies.
The pizza we had at the office.
Audblog.
Mom's garlic chicken.
Working on the fake site and ads for J's skincare line. Heh. That was so much fun.
Dragondude learning Tagalog.
The long conversation Mom and I had in the car on our way home. We talked about delicate matters and didn't fight. I'm repeating myself, but it felt really good.

Things that made me feel bad this past day or so:

Thinking about how old Tony Bennett is.
The papercut from the pizza box.
Thinking about all the hair I lost.
Realizing that I'm still not brave enough to fly.

The good outweighs the bad, like it always does.


***


"Oh my god, bakit ka ganyan?"

- Mom to Supernanny, after seeing Supernanny walk on the street on bare feet because she left her slippers in the house


***


audblog audio post

The Belgian priest was charming and all and I would always always be in awe of the things he has done, but transcribing the interview was a real challenge.

A bigger challenge than stopping yourself from buying things that you want but don't really need like a cotton candy maker you want to use to make black cotton candy and more toe rings even if you don't have enough toes to wear them all.




 
June 23, 2003

The conspiracy of the retail gods

Malls are eevil. Eevil, I tell you.

I knew I was right when I thought about leaving my money in the car. That was the best way to make sure I wouldn't spend a single peso. But my manipulative inner shopper spoke up, "No, you might need it, in case of an emergency..." And the rest of me listened.

Besides, I thought, as I walked into the mall, my pocket pregnant with what's left of this month's budget, the situation was relatively safe. I was just going to have lunch with my family at CPK and we'd zip right back home. Unless they made me pay for lunch, which was very very unlikely, I'd make it back to the parking lot with all my money intact.

Right? Wrong.

Because while I was waiting for my spinach artichoke dip and BBQ chicken chopped salad, I felt the overpowering urge to go to Topshop. What kind of girl abandons her favorite shop for months anyway? My cousin Joseph tagged along.

"Last chance to buy"

Black letters blinked at me from a pink sign.

Topshop was having a sale.

Oh my.

I looked through the discount rack and found the denim dress/coat that I had been salivating over months ago.

Oh. My. God.

Moral dilemma started, resulting in another major meeting at the Pammy Headquarters.

"Should we buy it?"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"We shouldn't be spending."

"But they slashed off almost a third of the price."

"And we do have more than enough money in our pocket.."

"We are going to regret this."

"We are going to regret not buying it."

"When we're poor and our paycheck is late, can we eat the dress?"

"But our paycheck won't be late."

"It's been late too many goddamn times."

"But it's soooooo nice."

"Remember, we tried it on and even Melda said it was nice?"

"No she didn't, she just nodded a little."

"Come on, you like it too."

"Yeah, but is it worth it?"

"Yesssssss. Can you see the fine stitching? And the lovely soft denim?? Come on....."

"This will look great with our boots."

"Which one?"

"All of them."

"Fine. We don't have to decide now. Let's go have lunch. And if we still want it after lunch, let's come back."

"Okay."

"But wait, what if it's gone when we come back? We'll be devastated."

"Then it wasn't meant to be."

"Fiiine."

Joseph and I walked back to the restaurant to have lunch. And after I finished my last bite of pizza and dodged the spoonful of apple crisp grandma was trying to make me swallow, I still wanted the dress/coat.

Mom went with me. Good, I thought. She can stop me from buying it.

But she wasn't about to do that. In fact, when she saw the dress, she even said, "it's nice" and she wanted to wait outside the fitting room to see how it looked on me.

But they didn't have it in my size.

The universe made the decision for me.

The inner shopper groaned but the rest of me rejoiced.

Mom and I made our way back to the restaurant. We walked walked walked without stopping until my eyes landed on a pair of boots on display at the Replay store.

I stopped walking and grabbed mom's arm. She knew exactly what I was looking at.

Wow.

This time, there was reverent silence at the Pammy Headquarters.

Every single persona was stunned into muteness by the beauty of the boots.

As they say, out of the frying pan into the fire.

And in this case, the fire was a gorgeous pair of chocolate brown lace-up combat boots with thick velcro straps.

I walked into the store, fingered the fine leather and asked how much they were.

More expensive than the dress but hey, the dress didn't shock me into silence.

"Would you like to try them on?" The shopgirl asked, smiling at me.

Would I? Would Snow White get along with Cinderella if they met? I don't know but yeah, dammit, I wanted to try them on.

But I still practiced a little restraint, even walked back to CPK to tell everyone else where I would be before going back to Replay to admire the boots.

Mom found me in the store minutes later, wearing the boots and grinning into the mirror. They even went perfectly with the pants I was wearing.

She was the only person who could have stopped me from making the purchase but she didn't. Because she loved them too. She was even thinking about what I could wear them with.

I wanted to wear them home but I didn't have any socks on.

Settled for the next best thing. I cradled the huge box on my lap on the ride home, not caring that it was covering my face and taking up all the space.

I was cursing the retail gods but I was grinning at the same time.

dragondude: Oh MY!
dragondude: whose ass do you intend to kick with those???
pamelaangela: hahahahahahah
pamelaangela: :-)
dragondude: and stylishly to boot :-)
dragondude: *snarf
pamelaangela: pretty huh?
dragondude: yes indeed

pamelaangela: the boots smell good
pamelaangela: :-)
dragondude: youre so happy bout the boots
pamelaangela: uh huh


***

Big surprise

Dragondude likes my hacked-off hair.

pamelaangela: you dont hate it?
dragondude: heck no
dragondude: it looks good on you
pamelaangela: biased
dragondude: no, being honest
dragondude: Id take you out anytime

Lol.


***

GENIUS Aunt is back.

And she gave me presents.

Books like this and this to help me deal with my anxiety and ultra-cool nail polish colors like this and this to help me deal with my manicure and pedicure obsession.

Heh.

"I bought them for Pamela," she told grandma. And that made me feel warm all over because that meant she was thinking about me even when she went away.

I think we're going to have another session.

Which is fine with me.

She can psychoanalyze me all she wants.

Because she's done nothing but help.

She's a genius, after all.


***

WHAT kind of idiot cuts herself on a pizza box?

My kind.


***

IT was just another day in the office.

Tim was trying to finish writing, I was reading Tony Pierce's blog and gushing over the adorable little baby and J and Weng Weng were having another concert.

"If I'm smart then I'll run away
But I'm not so I guess I'll stay
Haven't you heard?
I fell in love with a beautiful stranger"

Tim tapped Weng Weng on the shoulder. "Can you please just sing in your head?"

I started singing and they joined in.

"In your heaaaaaaaaaaaad, in your heaaaaaad, zombie, zombie, zombie..."

***

audblog audio post





 
June 22, 2003

Superman? Pshaaah.

Some superheroes wear capes. And their underwear on the outside. Some superheroes fly. Some superheroes become invisible. Some superheroes are so strong they can uproot buildings from their concrete homes. Some superheroes can stop time.

I don't think he does any of those things but he's a superhero too.

To me, at least.

Some heroes give life. Or hope. Or second chances. Even third chances. Or blood.

This superhero is giving me a voice.

And that's an incredible gift.

It is.

Thanks, Noah.


***

No orgy this year

This year's Fete De La Musique was fun. But last year's was better.

If I described last year's Fete as a major musical orgy, this year's Fete was a nice musical petting session.

The music didn't take me as high as I thought it would - I think it was a matter of being at the wrong places at the wrong moments.

At least we were able to catch a shirtless Marc Abaya - hey, that's always a treat.

And we saw a lot of people we know - old classmates, old friends, drunk friends, old co-workers, new co-workers, models, musicians, enemies, high school crushes - but I didn't run into people I thought I would run into. Astroboy, for example, whose idea of enjoying the festival was sitting in his car, watching one band and then leaving.

At around 2 a.m., we were all just standing around, watching the hordes of people walk past us, waiting for the desire to go home to hit us. This girl, who seemed a little tipsy, walked up to me and asked, "Are you Pam?"

"Uhh, yeah."

For a second I thought she was going to accuse me of stealing her boyfriend. Or something dramatic like that. Then she said, "I read your..."

For yet another second I thought she would say "blog" but she didn't.

"...articles."

I stammered but I think I was at least able to smile. But knowing me, it might have come out as a smirk.

Moments like that turn me into a stuttering fool.

I stopped stuttering to laugh at J's antics. He kept waving and saying hi and making the "call me" hand signals to invisible people. That's what Fete and alcohol does to you, I suppose.

I didn't get to listen to the jazz performances because the area was packed but at least I got to spend time with Giles who I missed a lot. I didn't get to dance to reggae but at least I got to meet some interesting new people. I didn't get to drink a single sip of alcohol but at least dinner was excellent.

My feet and legs are killing me now but it was worth it.

Totally.


***

May I take your order?

pamelaangela: i'm seriously considering starting a career in food
pamelaangela: waitress
darudedawg: haha. dangerous occupation for you. A) You might eat it first if it's a fave food and B) you might poison the customers who dress like you.

A is a possibility. But B? Nah, I'm not that evil.



 
Hair today, gone forever

Of course the hair episode caused a commotion at the Pammy Headquarters. Pammy's different personas couldn't stop talking about the tragedy.

"We said two, we said two! What kind of idiot was she?"

"Was that just four inches? I think it was four and a half!"

"This is soooo tragic.. I think I'm going to cry."

"Don't cry, it's just hair! We cry about everything else but we never cry about hair!"

"That's right. When did we get to be so girly??"

"But it was four inches!"

"We shouldn't try tie our hair in a ponytail now, we'd see even more just how short it really is."

"How ugly are we now?"

"It doesn't look that bad..."

"Hey, Charlotte's hair was this long in Sex and the City's Fourth Season."

"Duh, we're not Kristin Davis."

"Well at least our grandma's going to be happy. She's always wanted us to have shorter hair."

"Dragondude wouldn't be happy about this.."

"Daniel wouldn't be happy either! He told us not to cut our hair so we could film the Sadako spoof we were planning. How could we play Sadako when we're almost bald??"

"We are bald, aren't we? This is tragic.."

"Feh. Enough. It's just hair, it will grow back."

"At least our head feels lighter now."

"Yeah, and we'd be spending less on shampoo and conditioner."

"And less time drying our hair."

"But I miss our long hair..."

"We need a sundae."

"Yeah, we need a nice quick McDonald's hot fudge sundae with extra hot fudge."

"But how are we going to weasel extra hot fudge sundae from the greedy McDonald's mafia?"

"Watch this."



 
Pop quiz

If you told your salon person to cut two inches from your hair but she hacks off four, what would you do?

a] Attack her with scissors.

b] Give her a ruler so she will know the difference between two and four fucking inches, goddamnit.

c] Attack her with scissors and then give her a ruler.

d] Hit her on the head with a dictionary. Maybe that would teach her the difference between a trim and cold-blooded murder.

e] Get down on the floor, kick, scream, wail and blubber like an ugly spoiled baby.

f] Start a one-person rally outside complete with placards that condemn salon people who do not know how to follow the simplest instructions.

g] Accuse your mother of conniving with the salon person because you know she's always wanted you to cut your hair.

h] Burn the salon down.

Apart from G which I already did mid-cut to the amusement of my mom, I still couldn't decide. Because she's not done with my hair yet. The monster is still standing over my head, wielding gleaming evil scissors.

If I don't make it to Fete tonight, that means I was arrested - for arson or worse.



 
June 21, 2003

My 7-eleven embarrassment is becoming a habit

Last night mom picked me up from work and drove me to my house so I can get clothes for the weekend. I had new jeans that I wanted to try on. I did, they fit and I took them off. I didn't feel like putting on what I had worn in the office so I grabbed silk blue pajamas from my closet. But I couldn't find the matching top and mom was disrupting the neighbors' sleep by honking her horn and Genius Aunt just arrived from the airport and everything was a mess and Supernanny was adding to the chaos and I wasn't done picking out clothes so I grabbed the pajama top that was closest to my fingers.

Pink. And floral.

I threw it on, too frantic to work on all the buttons. I jumped into mom's car and tried to catch my breath.

Who cares if they didn't match, they were comfy.

But as mom drove to her house, I realized I'd need internet access.

Man oh man.

I entered 7-eleven in silk blue pajamas and a pink floral top, ignored the stares and bought my cards.

I had one comforting thought. At least I was still wearing a bra.

So the next time you go to 7-eleven and you see a weird girl just wearing a towel or maybe a lovely guy's denim shirt, that's probably me.



 
Alien invasion

For the past few weeks, J's life has been plagued by the existence of a major pest.

His flatmate's sister.

The girl has basically taken over their house. She bugs him constantly, asks stupid questions and has made a nuisance of herself.

The girl gets J so annoyed that he often chooses to just leave the house to avoid being rude or nasty.

Just a couple of hours ago, she decided to take over his computer as well. J, seething, fled and found refuge in a nearby fast food resto.

But that was just the start of the invasion.

Because when J came home, he sent me this message:

"....I come back, open the door, and there's the bitch, doing number 17.... the DVD!"

Lol.

I don't know how long the invasion will last, but J, feel free to pack up your things and evacuate to my camp anytime.



 
GRANDPA and cousin were doing a little shopping and I kept bugging the merchant for discount.

"Ang mura lang nyan sa iba eh."

"Dapat buy ten take one man lang."

Then, very subtly, my 14-year-old cousin nudged me to shut me up.

You know you're starting to get old when you start embarrassing your teenage relatives.
 
Wala ka sa lolo ko...

I am such a ditz.

Was so tired last night that I overslept and was very very late for lunch with stepgrandpa.

But he didn't get mad, oh no.

I walked in late, kissed them hello and ordered my steak, creamy corn and herb butter. We made pleasant conversation and when my steak was gone, grandpa let me order rocky road fondue - dark chocolate sauce served with a platter of marshmallows, grapes, mangoes, kiwis, apples, lady fingers and smores.

After lunch, we drove around looking for an internet cafe because I wanted to use his credit card to get an online subscription. We were duped by several places with hi-tech sounding names [e-rod, something.net and a few others I can't even remember] that we thought were internet shops but are really just bad places with bad food. We got stuck in traffic for maybe an hour and still found no cafes in the area but he didn't get mad, oh no.

He even gave me his credit card info so I could just take care of the transaction in my own time.

Yeah, he's cool.

He's so cool he still wears jeans and sneakers. And looks good in them.

He's so cool he used to change my diapers when I was a baby.

He's so cool I used to sleep over at their house when I was a kid all the time and he didn't complain when I woke up at 3 a.m. looking for food - sans rival, usually.

He's so cool we used to cook Spam and sausage with honey and ate them for breakfast. And sometimes lunch.

He's so cool he taught me about the different cuts of steak and the different kinds of cheese - even the smelliest ones.

He's so cool he likes hanging out in Greenbelt with my little cousins.

He's so cool he gave my mom her first car when she was eighteen.

He's so cool he likes collecting DVDs.

He's so cool he likes taking our entire family on trips abroad.

He's so cool he has no problems with expressing his affection. He tells us he loves us and he still calls me his baby.

He's so cool he spoils all his grandchildren in various ways and various degrees that makes us all feel like we're the favorite.

And he's not only cool, he's smart.

He's so smart that when he was five years old, he went straight from kindergarten to second grade at the Ateneo.

He's so smart that he beat the smartest kid in class even if he was just 5 and the other kid was 7 years old.

He's so smart that they made him skip sixth grade too.

He's so smart he probably laughed his way from kindergarten to law school.

He's so smart that I still believe - like I always have from the time I was a little kid - that he knows everything.

He's so smart that if I joined "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?", he'd be my lifeline.

And he's not only smart, he's incredibly talented.

He can sing, he can act, he can debate, he wins court cases - and that's just the start.

He's not only incredibly talented, he's also romantic.

Romantic without being sappy.

When my cousin asked him how he met my grandma, he told us the long story of how he ran into my grandma several times during his campaign for the 1972 elections in Manila. He even remembers what she was wearing the first time he saw her and what she first said to him the second time they met. "Do you remember me?"

And when my cousin asked him what he liked in my grandma, he said, "Isn't she fun? There's never a dull moment."

He and grandma are still affectionate towards each other.

They go out and have lovely dinners, although a lot of us tag along most of the time.

He's not only romantic, he has a beautiful heart.

I see that everyday.

And he has done so much with his life.

He's been a racetrack announcer, television executive producer and director, a stage actor, a high school teacher, a college professor, a politician, an advertising guy, a lawyer and a pastor.

And ultimately, for me, he's been a family man - he's been my grandpa.

So, to recap, he didn't get mad, oh no, he's cool, he's smart, he's incredibly talented, he's romantic, he has a beautiful heart and he has done so much with his life.

That's my grandpa.

And I love him.


 
June 20, 2003

This time there's a reason for the existential angst. Trust me.

R: "Sometimes you have to test their loyalty. You have to do that."
Me: "I am not even there yet. I'm still struggling for respect."

Sometimes I wonder how my life would have turned out if I had chosen another path.

Sometimes means now.

I wonder what would have happened if I started going to law school this schoolyear. That would have made stepgrandpa happy. That would have made my uncle happy. Would that have made me happy?

I wonder what would have happened if I went on with my dream of living in India for three months after graduating from college. These thoughts are fueled by my wistfulness for New Delhi and Jaipur and the conversation I had with Astroboy who made me feel that I could really do it. That I could just pack up and go.

I wonder what would have happened if I went back to my high school to teach.

I wonder what would have happened if I chose another career and wrote only for pleasure.

I wonder what would have happened if I did not have the responsibilities I have now.

I wonder what would have happened if I felt that I was getting the respect and appreciation I have been working for.

I wonder why everything seems to be taking a toll on me now.

Life could be much simpler.

Carpenters don't go home to dream about the pieces of wood they had nailed together.

Phone operators do not worry about answering the incessant ringing when they're out of their booths.

Waitresses don't go home worrying about tomorrow's specials.

Pizza delivery boys deliver the pizza and when they go home, they don't bring the pizzas with them.

Most people leave their work in the office. They don't carry it on their backs and bring it with them to bed. Or dates. Or family gatherings. Or vacations.

Most people take vacations.

Most people's lives aren't consumed by their work.

Most people have lives outside of work.

I am not most people.

And then I wonder.

How much is it worth?

How much am I worth?




 
I can see clearly now my brain is gone

I can cry about my life, my family, my friends, my love life but I made an unspoken promise to myself never to cry about my career.

A job is a job is a job. Just a job.

But today, I almost broke that promise.

I stood on the third floor landing of the office building that I have made my home for several years now, held on to the metal railing and fought back hot tears.

Verdict's out. I might have to quit the free paper. I've taken on too much load, I'm spreading myself too thin. Job description's too messed up.

But I love the free paper. I love the people I work with in the free paper.

You know you love the people you work with when you enjoy hanging out with them even when you're not in the office.

And that's how it was with us. They were all at my last birthday party getting drunk, we were all together making memories in Puerto Galera, we have little food fiestas in our cubicle, hell, we even have a videoke night scheduled for next week.

There is a reason why the free paper's cubicle is the noisiest, why it's the source of the boisterous laughter that disrupts the silence of the newsroom. We make working fun. Really fun.

I am going to miss them. Miss them even more than I miss McDonald's milkshakes.

People have tried different approaches in making me feel better.

"It's not going to be the end of your friendship. You can still visit them..."

"It's for the best. They have more things planned for you."

Maybe so. But my heart is broken.

And I must not let it show. Couldn't let it show.

Because I've got other things to take care of, responsibilities to fulfill, sections to close.

I cannot believe I'm too busy to grieve.




 
Monkeys can breathe silent fire

Battle is not over yet.

But already, I have learned things about myself.

Dragondude likes to say that I'm fierce about the things and people I love.

These past two days, I learned that I'm fierce about me too.



 
Astroboy goes French

astroboy: are you going to that fete thing this sat?
cookiedoughjunkie: of course man
cookiedoughjunkie: who isnt?
astroboy: alright so i have no life. do you have to rub it in?
astroboy: anyway, am going
cookiedoughjunkie: hahaha
cookiedoughjunkie: you cant
cookiedoughjunkie: twerps will be stopped at the gate

***

And I go German

Tim just got back from New York and gave me cute beaded flip flops and the While You Were Sleeping DVD I asked him to buy for my grandma who has a crush on Bill Pullman.

He gave me something else too but I'd rather not say. Although I'd let on this much - two words - eight inches.




 
When the dragon is away, the monkey will sleep

manuel: so whatcha doing now?
cookiedoughjunkie: surfing
cookiedoughjunkie: starting to feel sleepy actually
manuel: egads
manuel: shocking
manuel: hahaha
cookiedoughjunkie: LOL



 
June 19, 2003

The new Valium

Last night we didn't write any songs.

I got home from work late and Fi had gone to bed early so Chri just went over my house. We ate the chicken my mom had cooked. And talked. And talked. And since I had taken off my Happy Feet sandals and I could hardly smell the strawberries and bananas on my skin, yesterday's events came rushing back to me again, getting me worked up, getting me annoyed, getting me all riled.

Actually, I think I had been furious the whole day. But I have a knack for making the worst things funny and I am pretty good at distracting myself so I swung from making little jokes and then talking about my Happy Feet sandals and back to making little jokes and that's how I survived yesterday. I did falter during one moment, though, when this joker approached me, eager to start one of our verbal battles. We'd normally hurl words back and forth, just good-natured teasing - but he had bad timing.

He was about to start in on me and I glared at him and said, before I could stop myself, "Not today. Because today I'm capable of murder."

And he backed off, just like that. I hope I didn't do him permanent damage.

But back to Chrissie and me.

So we talked, and I was furious about what happened and she could sense it. And she was talking sense into me and being logical and calm and saintly like she always is but I was too worked up to be easily pacified. I must have been getting really loud because at one point, my grandma actually got up from bed and peered into the dining room, looking disoriented and disturbed by the noise. And Supernanny, who was sitting at their dining table several feet away from us, was laughing at my antics.

I realized there was no one around who could pacify me but me. I stood up and looked for reinforcement. I found my answer in the fridge - in the huge 1500-gram bottle of Nutella that Nona had sent from Italy. It is huge - so huge I needed two hands to carry it. Grabbed a spoon, dipped it into the rich chocolate and started licking. I could feel the endorphins partying in my system. And after just seconds, I was calm again, even borderline woozy.

Talked about nicer things like our plans to start new lives elsewhere, Dragondude, crazy pants and my masculinity.

I am now considering putting spoonfuls of Nutella into little containers I can take with me everywhere, just in case I get worked up again.

***

IF you don't have anything nice to say and what you have to say isn't constructive at all but just plain annoying, you better keep it to yourself.

Because one day, you wouldn't know what mood I'll be in and I might just decide that it's proper for me to punch your face to shut you up and teach you a lesson.

I'm all for freedom of speech but realize that sometimes freedom has its price. And in your case, it may be a broken nose and knocked out teeth but hey, wouldn't that be interesting.

Now hand me the Nutella.


***

MY FRIEND Manuel is leaving in a few hours to start a new life in the U.S.

Lucky lucky him.

Hey, Hotguy, I know you hate mush and this might make your hair stand on end but I'm going to miss you. Yes, even your sarcasm.

But hey, the rest of the world needs a taste of it too and we shouldn't be selfish. So go knock them dead.



 
angry seething girl + manicure + pedicure + massage + new sandals + red nail polish = happy perky girl

Me: "Dude, I am so pissed!!
Astroboy: "You're what?"
Me: "Pissed! I can't believe.......................... Are they insane??? This doesn't make sense!!"
Astroboy: "Where are you now?"
Me: "On my way to the nail spa. I need to relax."
Astroboy: [chuckling] "Okay, man."

Received less than savory news. And since I needed to cool down, I left the office. Rode a cab to Glorietta but I felt the intense need to walk. So I walked. I walked quickly from Glorietta to the walkway to Greenbelt 3 to Greenbelt 1 to Legazpi Village. Walked so fast that Supernanny fell behind a few steps, huffing, puffing and sweating. I stopped walking when I reached the nail spa. I collapsed on one of the luxurious white couches to have my hands and feet pampered.

I was still so mad that I thought the treatment wouldn't do me any good. But the bubble soak was calming. And the aroma of the strawberry-banana scrub and lotion that I picked out relaxed me even more. I sipped iced tea and enjoyed my CD and comic book as Ester and Didi's hands kneaded away my anger. Soon, there wasn't an ounce of hostility left in my body. How could I fume? I was too busy picking out which shade of red I wanted for my nails. Finally settled on Essie's Crushed Berries.

And since I had worn boots today and putting them back on after my pedicure would spell disaster, I decided on this month's splurge. Red Happy Feet sandals to match my nail polish. The best thing about these sandals is you could change the straps to match your outfits. I bought extra blue straps. I thought about getting the white ones too but knowing me, they'd be gray in no time. I will just wait for the pink straps - they will be coming in two weeks.

Of course, being the idiot that I am, I chipped my left big toe as I was getting off the cab at my office. The damage was teeny tiny, though. I can live with it.

My nails are pretty, I've got new sandals to abuse and my skin still smells of strawberries and bananas.

Tonight, I'm happy.

Tomorrow is another battle.


***

NAIL spa trip might turn into a habit.

Today, the spa brought itself up a few notches on my list of favorite places.

I think I'll say goodbye to my old manicurist. Her service has been getting bad lately.

Besides, I'm starting to really like Ester. She's worked on my nails twice and she's pretty good.

Not only are her hands great, she gives good nail care advice. And she says she likes my feet - that they're like a baby's.

Flattery will get you really far.

Heh.


***


Paradigm shift

It was only tonight that I found out that Carolyn Keene, author of the Nancy Drew books and the heroine of my first-grade self, never existed.

My childhood has been shattered.

I need a moment.



 
SOMETHING exploded at the nearby LRT station and all the lights went out. Suddenly, we were engulfed by the dark and the only light we could see was the glow of my laptop's monitor in the living room. It seemed to be miles away. I felt a hand on my wrist and another on my back. My cousins are terrified of the dark. And because fear is contagious, I found myself terrified too. We grappled our way to the living room, as one person with six legs. Then, we collapsed on the couch and sat close to the monitor, as if its light had the power to give us life. Or at least protection.

And for a while it did.

Thank god for battery-operated devices. I slipped a Sex and the City DVD into my computer and we let Carrie and friends take our minds off the dark.

Two episodes, two phone calls to the electric company and two ignored nature calls later, the lights went back on.

We heaved a sigh of relief and went on with our lives.



 
June 18, 2003

The things I do for the love of Dragondude

We were about to start our songwriting session when Chri and Fi's dad called. Since it was flooded, he was going to park their car at the nearby hospital and he wanted Chri to pick him up in their SUV. Chri convinced Fi to go along for the ride. And since I didn't want to be left alone, I jumped up and joined them.

I jumped up and joined them, completely forgetting two little facts. One, after taking my bath I did not feel like combing my hair so I put up my hair in a wild knot and pushed everything away from my face with a purple headband. To call my hair a mess would be an understatement. Two, I was wearing a tanktop with my tie-dyed neon pants, a tanktop from my high school years - the kind of tanktop you don't ever wear outside. I forgot because it had been cold and I had a shawl wrapped around my shoulders.

Basically, I was in no state to go outside. Bah, I thought. I don't have to get off the car anyway. We'd just go out, pick my uncle up and zip back home. But on our way to the hospital, as the SUV surged through the horrifyingly dark flood, I realized that I would need to go down. Because we were going to 7-eleven and I needed to get an internet card.

It was a choice between embarrassing myself or a night without going online.

Hell, I went for option one.

I wrapped the shawl around my head and my body, covering my hair and my tanktop. I asked Fi if she'd be embarrassed to be seen with me looking like that and she said no. Good enough. I think Chri thought I was joking but she realized I was serious when I opened the door. Fi and I went down. I walked into 7-eleven nonchalantly while Fi tried to bite back her laughter. Chri walked in after us, grinning like mad. I remained nonchalant, picking out stuff I wanted, ignoring the stares. I almost ran into an old classmate from my original batch in college. I hid behind the shelf of canned goods.

We spent maybe ten minutes in the place. The longer we stayed, the more comfortable I got. Perhaps having the shawl cover most of my face made things easier.

I got my card.

That's all that matters.


***

Mozzie update

Flowers For Sally is song number seven.

Whoo.

This time, celebrated with tuna sandwiches. I made mine with three slices of bread, butter, the excellent tuna spread Fi made and shoestring potatoes.

That was the best tuna sandwich I've had in my life.






 
ACCORDING to Kazaa, I'm a guru.

That's based on my participation levels - they're higher than high. And the fact that I haven't been downloading anything but letting all these people leech off me is helping bring them even higher.

Oh my. I really do spend too much time online.
 
DRAGONDUDE knows exactly how to cheer me up.

"havent been this happy to see a human in 4ever"

You sweetie.

Hehe.

 
THE weather is screwing up my plans.

I was supposed to have a busy day. I wanted to go to the bank, get my money, visit the designer's shop to try on my bridesmaid's gown, go to the salon to get my hair trimmed, go to the nail spa for a manicure and pedicure, go to the mall to buy gifts for my godchild and then the highlight of my day - have dinner with my grandparents. I even knew what I was going to order - rib-eye steak with creamed corn and herb butter.

But now I'm stuck at home because of the damn flood.

There are days when I'd kill for an excuse to stay at home but today isn't one of them.



 
ONE of my greatest joys in life is sharing food I love with people I love.

J and I have gone through this exercise countless times. And it has never been a big success because while I am Miss Passionate-About-Most-Things-Edible, J isn't exactly a food person.

I would go on and on and on about something I just tasted, something I think that he absolutely has to try. And when we finally get the chance, I'd wait for him to take his first bite eagerly. He'd chew carefully and swallow slowly. Then he'd either shrug his shoulders or say "hmmm" or "okay" nonchalantly, like he didn't understand what the fuss was about. I'd then roll my eyes in exasperation and we'd go on with our meal.

Yesterday, he finally flipped over something I let him try.

It was really my mom's discovery. A huge bag of chips called Super Chips that costs only 14 pesos.

J loved the chips so much that in the middle of a quiet conversation, he looked up, eyes flashing with panic, "Where are the rest of the chips???" He became calm again when he saw the leftover bag of chips on top of the computer table.

The Hot Original Glazed Krispy Kreme. CPK's BBQ Chicken Chopped Salad. Cibo's crostini with spinach dip. So many other heavenly treats. They all got the cold shoulder.

But the 14-peso bag of chips was showered with praises.

It's my turn to shrug.


 
June 17, 2003

BAD things are happening all around me.

A few weeks ago, there was a brawl at a restaurant I reviewed, a restaurant I loved.

A few days after, there was a drive-by shooting outside a club we've gone to a few times. One person died.

The other day, a taxi hit a tricycle just a couple of blocks from my office. The tricycle driver lost his leg right on the spot.

Just an hour or so ago, when I was still in the office, my mother SMSd. She was worried because she heard that there's a huge fire on the street of my office building. I walked to the third floor window to look for flames or smoke but saw nothing. I can hear faint fire engine sirens ringing in my ears but that could just be my mind playing tricks on me. On the way home, I think I saw smoke and flames flickering from afar, but that could just be my mind playing tricks on me.

Bad things are happening all around me.

I'd want to think of something clever to say about this but there's nothing.

This is like having bullets raining down - you start wondering when one will hit you.


***

ANXIETY is starting to kick in again.

I listened to Genius Aunt's advice and have been avoiding the Metro pages and the news. But sometimes the news just comes to me.

I have also been starting to revert to normal activities. Supernanny and I came really close to riding a bus a a few weeks ago, but I changed my mind at the last minute because I was too tired. Still, even just thinking about it was progress. I am seriously considering riding a plane again - possibly in a couple of weeks. That's a big step. A step made even more difficult by last month's traumatic boat ride.

Just tonight, anxiety levels rose twice for different reasons - but I was able to remain calm and logical. And yeah, the breathing helped.

I am determined to get better, to acquire and maintain my stability. I am not going to even think about the possibility of medication.

I do not need pills to remain sane.


 
I KNOW things have gotten really tough for me when I feel the urge to walk to my living room and stare out the window in the middle of the night.

And when this happens, I'd just stand there, looking out. There really isn't much to see. Old houses, distant buildings, the occasional truck or car passing by. But it does so much for me.

When I feel that I've calmed down, I begin my walk back to my room, usually on bare feet. On my way there, I run my hands across the wooden walls. I use my fingers to trace the pillars I used to play with as a child. I drink in the soft lights that make our living room glow. I move the artworks aside and feel the imprints my great-uncle left on the wall when he used to measure me and my brother regularly to check how much we were growing. This house holds so many secrets, so many memories. All these things make our house beautiful, this house that my grandfather had built for us.

Maybe it's not looking out the window that helps. Maybe knowing that I'm inside does.



 
AND no, Mister Sad Fucker, I'm not being a drama queen, this is just me living my life.



 
June 16, 2003

Wistful

Have spent hours watching the last DVD of Sex and the City's Fourth Season. The ending of episode #61, "The Good Fight", hit me hard.

In that scene, Carrie puts a curtain between her and Aidan, but then emerges just seconds later, sits between Aidan's legs, leans back against him, puts her arms on top of his and he leans over and kisses her forehead. Then they just sit back, and they're just there, together.

Executive Producer Michael Patrick King said something about this scene in his commentary. "The thing I love about this scene is it really is a delicious idea of what a relationship might be."

Wow.

More than anything on my Amazon wishlist, I want that.

I do.

But the next episode, "All That Glitters...", ends with Carrie's words, "That's the thing about relationships. Sometimes, they look prettier from the outside."

Bah.

Sex and the City is bad for your health.

Or at least mine.


***

I WAS not built for this.

I feel so beaten up.

I'm exhausted.

And this time, I can't blame the tears on PMS.




 
Powie wants to steal Supernanny. Jules wants to kidnap her [That is, if I don't try on my bridesmaid's gown in this lifetime - and I will, on Tuesday, I promise, please please don't kill me]. Ruthie wants to talk to her about Meteor Garden. A handful of people have been asking for her pictures. Wengweng and J have even blogged about her. And yeah, people who read this blog have been calling her Supernanny to her face.

Heh.

She is getting way too popular.

And she has no idea.


***

MY grandparents moved recently, to a new house with a big backyard. Everyone wants to do something different with it. My grandpa is planning to buy a pool table. My cousins want a basketball court. One cousin wants go-karts. My other cousin wants a mini golf course. I want a badminton court.

We can all dream.


***

IN the middle of dinner, while talking about the new house, grandma turned to me and asked, "May pag-ibig ka ba?"

Huh? What a jump, I thought. I stopped chewing and stared at her, trying to come up with an answer. I opened my mouth to speak but she cut me off.

"May Pag-ibig ka? Yung Pag-ibig Fund? Yung para sa mga loan?"

Whew.

That was like a bad comedy skit.


***

TONIGHT'S dinner was delicious. Loved the kani salad, teriyaki, maki and rib-eye. And this is just the start. This week is going to be a blast for my palate. I've got way too many lunches and dinners planned. But I'm not complaining, hell no.

Will just make up for it. I think it's time to bring the rollerblades out.



 
IT WASN'T exactly cold enough for the stole with the faux fur trim but I didn't let that stop me.

Heh.

Had a good half day with my family.

It was a day for mentally stimulating conversations, like the one we had over a lunch of takeout chicken and prawns at stepgrandpa's boardroom:

Cousin1: "We need more catsup."
Cousin2: "Yeah, they only gave us three packs."
Stepgrandpa: "Here." [brings out a bottle of Heinz]
Me: "Nah, Heinz isn't good with chicken."
Cousin1: "Yeah, chicken is good with banana catsup."
Uncle: "I like banana catsup."
Powie: "Me too."
Cousin2: "I like tomato catsup."
Great-uncle: "Why is catsup called catsup when there's no cat there?"
(laughter)
Me: "Ask lolo. Lo, why is catsup called catsup?"
Stepgrandpa: "I don't know, why?"
Cousin1: "Yeah, why?"
Cousin2: "Yeah, why?"
Great-uncle: "I don't know, that's why I was asking you."
Me: "I thought you knew."
Great-uncle: "No. Think about it. And why is a hotdog called a hotdog?"
Me: "Why?"
Great-uncle: "I don't know, that's why I was asking you."

It was a day for interesting stories, like the ones stepgrandpa entertained us with - the one about the relic my cousin Izrael left in Israel [near the mountain of salt ---> believe me, you don't want to hear this story] and how our ten-year-old cousin keeps insisting on eating at Italianni's every time they go out because he has a crush on the receptionist.

And my favorite parts of the day:

1. The Big Mac of a tuna sandwich Powie and I had for breakfast.
2. When stepgrandpa hugged me in front of everyone, called me his baby and told them I'm his number one favorite. Heh.

When they all went to the mall, I went to the office to work.

But they're picking me up in a while for dinner.

The other half of the day is about to begin.

Cool.




 
June 15, 2003

SOMETHING has to be said about walking around the mall while listening to your own songs blaring from your headphones.

Surreal.

Totally.

Sidenote: Kat brought a CD of our songs to her school and asked some of her friends to listen, telling them it was some unknown band [not a lie, heh]. She said they enjoyed the songs. Cool.


***


WHEN I wake up, I will be going to church with my family and then we're going to have lunch out - probably to celebrate Father's Day with stepgrandpa.

Yes, church.

Scrape your jaw off the floor.


***

THERE'S a huge storm coming. It's already started raining - hell, my house is already flooded. [But I'm safe and dry at mom's.]

The bad news: I have to face the possibility of spending another five days stranded in the office.

The good: The weather might be cool enough for me to bring out my knitted tan stole with faux fur trim.

Hell, if I'm going to be stranded, I'd want to be stranded in style. My coats will be saying hello to the world again. No more 120-peso shirts from Shopwise.


***

HAPPY Father's Day, Dragondude! ;)




 
IT WAS my first time to ride in a car with my brother driving.

He looked so grown-up in the driver's seat, a far cry from the chubby two-year-old who used to slobber all over me. But I didn't have enough time to get teary-eyed, no.

I was too busy hanging on for dear life.

But ten minutes later, I was able to put on my headphones and relax. Hell, I even enjoyed the ride.


***


TODAY I ate many things, too many things that are bad for me.

Sour cream and onion fries, chocolate-filled marshmallows, strawberry-filled marshmallows and Japanese seafood shrimp crackers. I was even looking for Takoyaki balls but couldn't find them.

I stuffed myself with things that delude me into believing they're nourishing me when all they're really doing is clogging my system with junk.

Yeah, except for cigarettes and drugs, I like things that are bad for me.

Like sleepless nights, staying out 'til 6, vodka and the wrong men.

But I'm breaking the habit. Or at least one of them.



 
YOU have to read this guy's latest post.

Wow.
 
FELL asleep early this morning beside my mom, with her hand resting on my knee. Then I woke up mid-morning to feel her smothering my face with kisses.

Nothing like it to make me feel like a little girl again.

Slept really well.

Today, mom, my brother, my grandma and I are all going out.

Life is good.


 
Ways to make me happy without knowing it #47

Handed my brother another CD to listen to - Mozzie's version of Cold Cold Heart. CD flew back at me like a frisbee. "Eh si Norah Jones to eh!"

"Gagu, ako yan."

I could also tell you about the time Mom compared us to The Beatles but hey, another day, another delusion.



 
I AM so riled that I'm itching to go for a walk - and I probably would if I were somewhere else. Because in this city, you cannot go for a walk at almost four in the morning without worrying about getting mugged, getting raped or getting killed.

So shit, I'm staying put.

I can pace in the living room. And when I get tired of that, the kitchen.

I need to walk this off.

Because it's either that or bawling my eyes out.

And fuck, I am so sick of swollen eyes.

Let me have the walking.

Let me have all the goddamn walking.


 
According to Quizilla, I am a weird dream.

I'm okay with that. I was so sure I was going to be a nightmare.


***

I WONDER when you're ever going to just let me in. Really really really let me in and not have one foot out the door and not have your defenses up and not be constantly ready to walk away and start healing before anything has even happened. I wonder. And I wonder about the possibility of you waking up to realize you've lost me before you even really had me.



 
June 14, 2003

Another Mozzie update

Three new songs.

"The Search," "Invincible Bliss" and "Would I?"

We've been asking people to listen to the songs. They all have their own favorites but I hope it's not just because they know us.

I love playing all the songs but I really really like "That Night In The Car."

And a side note: Teej named his dog after us. That's pretty effing cool.


***

I'm a fan, an awestruck fan

Another thing that's pretty effing cool is when a band whose music you appreciate thanks you on their CD sleeve.

And I didn't even know about it until my brother told me. He was reading the lyrics while listening to Sound's bossamanila CD. Then he looked up and said casually, "Hey, your name's here."

My jaw dropped. I grabbed the CD sleeve from him.

I didn't know I didn't know.

I've had the CD for a month and I didn't know.

I even asked them for an interview last week and I didn't know.

My mouth's still open now.

Might return to normal in the morning.

Maybe.




 
Cosmetic nightmare

I woke up, headed for the bathroom, went back to my room and replied to text messages, went online, talked to Dragondude, asked Supernanny what I could have for lunch and went back to talking to Dragondude. Seemed as if I had a pretty normal day on my hands. Until this morning's dream kicked in.

And my stomach lurched.

In my dream, I walked into this huge cosmetics store and started filling up a basket with makeup. And I was excited. But when I was about to pay for my mountainload of goodies, I realized I didn't have enough money. The perfectly groomed goddesses behind the counter asked me to choose just one item. Just one. And I freaked out. And started thrashing about. Until I finally decided on a reddish pink tube of lip gloss.

And I woke up.

Oh my.

I'm dreaming about cosmetics like I used to dream about food and work.

Sure, I like spa treatments, manicures, pedicures, body scrubs and the occasional facial mask - but makeup isn't my thing. My face is usually naked when I go out. When I feel like being a wee bit more feminine, I just dig through my messy room for my lip balm and that's it. J's beauty regimen is more elaborate than mine. Because mine is just two steps - brush hair, wash face.

So why the hell did I dream about makeup?

Is this a sign of things to come? Am I about to turn into a perky girly girl?

No no no. No way.

I am mortified.



 
June 13, 2003

Father Amazing

First things first.

Interview with the priest went fine. It was a challenge, I have to admit, because he was almost deaf and was 76 and couldn't remember a lot of things, but I loved his accent and was blown away by the things he has done for this country.

Imagine devoting 49 years of your life to collecting money and supervising the construction of around 60 churches, schools, gyms, convents and dormitories in different provinces of a country that's not even your own. I cannot even begin to fathom that.

Tell me that's not fucking amazing.

If he wasn't a priest, almost deaf and leaving for Belgium tonight, I would have wanted to set him up with my grandma. I think they'd make a pretty good couple.

He was pretty cute too, for a 76-year-old.

***

Repent, repent

On our way out of the seminary:

Supernanny: "I thought you went there for confession."
Pam: "No, if I did, we'd be there 'til tomorrow."

***

You know your life hasn't been normal for a while when the simple act of falling in line at a fast food restaurant to order seems completely foreign.

***

Toxic Tricky Thursday

One of the best ways life kicks you in the face is when it turns what you thought was going to be a horrible day into a pretty good one.

Yesterday was one of those days.

After the interview with the priest, I started melting under the sun while waiting for a cab. Was late for work, so late that my knees started rattling. It seemed like years before we were finally on our way to the office. But when I got there, I realized I wasn't late - because everyone else was even more late.

I thought things were going to be okay.

But we were understaffed. I couldn't go online, the system wouldn't allow me to log on. When I was finally online, I realized that the software we use for layout and editing wasn't working on my computer. When they got my software to work again, they informed me that the server had crashed and all the e-mails sent by contributors the whole day were probably lost in cyberspace. When I was done calling each person, asking all of them to resend their articles, artworks and photographs, I found out that we couldn't open very important pictures in a CD because none of our softwares could handle the file format. While this was going on, a representative from advertising kept changing my pages and space, adding to my misery.

It was like a scene from a bad comedy - where a house or a boat starts leaking and they start plugging the holes but more holes just keep popping up.

Just when I started to feel like I was drowning, just when I was wailing that nothing was going right and I was ready to just give up and go home and maybe never come out of my room ever again, things started looking up.

The e-mails started to pour in. The system cooperated with me. One brilliant guy in the IT department downloaded a software that would convert the files to jpeg [I'm ordering a pizza for him next week.]. She asked if I wanted company and when I said yes, came over, gifted me with choco-gooey-goodness and waved her magic wand, the genius writing machine she is. She came over and waved her own magic wand and created beautiful things and brought lots of Jolina joy with her. She came over all the way from Cavite primarily to pick up her F4 CDs but she also gave me a kiss and a hug and told me she missed me and I think I needed that. One heaven-sent proofreader volunteered to help out. We had proper guidance. We had enough people. I had support. I had their faith. And that made everything so much better.

Soon, there were no more holes, no more leaks.

My toxic tricky Thursday actually turned out to be pleasant and stress-free. So pleasant and stress-free I even had time to joke with the staff. So pleasant and stress-free I had time to answers text messages. So pleasant and stress-free I had time to place bets on the NBA finals. So pleasant and stress-free I had enough time for dinner - and dessert. So pleasant and stress-free I actually had time to connect with people.

And that felt good.

Work ended over an hour ago but I'm still high on adrenaline.

I love it.

***

Wengweng made me read the lyrics of this song.

This line is my favorite:

I don't want to fall asleep alone, but do I want to wake up with you?


***


How perky are you?

J laughed at me yesterday morning when he heard me talking to this woman who was helping me set up the interview with the priest. I was being polite and borderline friendly and J found it hilarious when I laughed at something the woman said.

He said I sounded like "a perky girl who was being tickled." He meant I sounded completely unlike me.

Perky isn't a word friends would use to describe me. Because yeah, normally, I'm as perky as a 64-year-old woman's breasts.

Like Karl said [yes, this morning too], "It's not you."

"Because I'm dark?" I asked.

"Yeah.."

To quote what Vato said when he first met me, "You look like you're always telling people to back off."

Oh-kay.

But yesterday, I might actually have been perky.

Yesterday, Mich said something about me being angstier on the blog than in real life. [I'm sure she got a bigger surprise from Maui though, because the queen of angst was playing Little Miss Oprah with her diet tips and CD care reminders.]

Even Dragondude noticed how happier I seemed.

Must have been an off-day. Or a fluke. Or the hormones working in reverse. Or again, the adrenaline.

But oh my.

They're right.

Because I remember myself skipping around the office instead of trudging around like usual.

Yep, I have been so unusually perky the past half day or so.

So unusually perky that I just typed "mail.yahoo.com!" into my browser just now.

Fucking scary.



 
Quote of the week

"Let's have lunch... Starbucks?"

Uhhh, NO.

I swear, that made me laugh.


 
I MADE a pest of myself and called the Belgian priest a gazillion times.

He was either out, sleeping or they "couldn't find him."

I'm starting to think that he's dodging my call.

I only have five hours left to do the interview - I have to be in the office by three for layout and the priest is leaving for Belgium tomorrow.

Ugh.




 
June 12, 2003

On a roll

We wrote two more songs last night - "I Can Still See That Day" and my current favorite, "That Night In The Car."

Same set-up - me on vocals, Fi on keyboards and Chri on guitars.

Happy is an understatement.

Whoo.


***

GUESS who's sitting beside me right now, watching The Laramie Project?

J. He's sleeping over. Yeah, we're having a two-person slumber party.

No pillow fights but a Sex and the City Season 4 marathon, a movie marathon and lots of work for me.

Feh.


 
Dear Monster Cramps,

I would really have loved to go to work today, especially since it's supposedly my first day of real employment but no, you wanted me to stay home and play. But playing with you isn't exactly a bucket of fun, Monster Cramps, because it's goddamn painful. So please go away. Don't make me force you with a handful of pills and the hot water bag that leaves ugly red marks on my stomach. But if you don't stop, I will. Because I would like to be able to use the bathroom without any fear of blacking out. I would like to be able to walk around the house and not just hide myself in my room and curl up into a ball of misery. I would like to be able to go on with my normal life even when I'm bleeding like an animal. So go. And don't come back. Or maybe you could, in a few months. Because hopefully by then I'd have the extra-strength Advil Gel Capsules that my relatives are sending from the U.S. And that will be the end of you.

Love,
Pajammy



 
Greatest songs my ass

This list sucks.

You're Still The One? I Will Always Love You? My Heart Will Go On? Baby One More Time? Mmmbop? Mmmfuckingbop???

Give me a break.


***

Holy oxymoron

My editor wants me to interview this Belgian priest. I dialed the number she gave me and ended up talking to a priest whose demeanor wasn't particularly holy.

To be completely crass about it - he was an ass.

He said the priest I wanted to talk to was taking a nap. Normal people would have taken down my name, number and message and put the phone down - but no, not him.

He drilled me for information - about me, my paper, my editor, kept asking if I had spoken to the Belgian priest before and gave me grief for calling when the Belgian priest was asleep. How was I to know his schedule, damnit? I swear, I was waiting for him to ask me for a password. It was like I called the goddamn Mafia and not some seminary.

I remained polite although I was starting to seethe at his rudeness.

I wanted to say, "Not today, Father, not when I have just started bleeding" but I bit it back.

I'm sure there's a reason for the attitude.

Must be the celibacy.


***

I'M officially employed.

I think.


 
June 11, 2003

Breakthrough

This day will go down in Mozzie history.

We finally started - and more essentially, finished - our first real song.

Celebrated with popcorn and sushi at 2 a.m.

First record of the song has me on vocals, Chri on guitars and Fi on keyboards.

"Sugar In The Sea" is playing on my computer as I type this.

And as if that wasn't enough to bring us to the high heavens, we can also play Cold Cold Heart now.

Whoo.

I'm swimming in music.

And it feels goddamn good.



 
Little spotted angels

Brought the food over to Chrissie's so we could eat there. But all thoughts of pizza, onion rings and buffalo wings flew out of my head when I saw the two baby Dalmatians walking around their living room floor.

I have kidnapped the babies. I brought them home.

If you walk past my room, you will hear cooing sounds and babytalk. Yeah, coming from me.

They are adorable.

I'm in love.

I love their puppy smell and baby dog breath. I love how they can fall asleep in my arms. I love their gorgeous little eyes. I love how they snuggle close to me to feel my warmth. I love their tiny soft paws. I love how they yawn.

One has curled up beside my computer and is sleeping, the other curled up right beside my right leg and is also sleeping.

The babies are going to sleep beside me tonight.

I need the warmth as much as they do.

***

A COUPLE of hours ago, when the puppies were sleeping, I left them on my bed and went to Chrissie's house so we could play our new songs.

Supernanny called.

"Your babies are crying."

I put the phone down and said to them, "I'll be back, the babies are crying."

And I walked back home thinking, "Whoa, that was a preview."



 
MOM SMSd to tell me that she found out that her laywer had lied to me about a lot of things.

That bitch.

I don't know why she felt the urge to lie - maybe she needed a little excitement in her life. But I will not waste time analyzing her hamster wheel. I'm just glad things are clear now.

I believe you, Ma.

It's time to start picking up the pieces.


***


DRAGONDUDE kinda freaked about the whole Type A personality bit.

And I did too, when he sent me this.

My god, I think I screwed up the test.

Because I don't think I'm a Type A personality.

I'm not rigid and dear god, I hope my personality's not flat. I don't think I've had to work hard to earn acceptance - the people in my life have been pretty accepting. I was given unconditional love as a child - even up to now, even when I don't deserve it. They say Type A people always have to be on time - hello, I can already see J's raised eyebrow - I'm always late. And no, unlike your usual Type A person, I don't need a watch handy to be able to tell time. Allow me to be bimbo-ish for a sec. I wear a watch as a fashion accessory, to complete an outfit. The fact that it can tell time is just a bonus. I can wear a watch and not look at it all day, unless I was stuck with unbearably boring people. Type A people have problems with deadlines - they find it restricting. I happen to thrive on deadlines. Type A people supposedly have esteem issues. Again, not me. My friends can attest to the fact that I'm pretty damn confident - except during very rare attacks of mousiness. Type A people have money issues - I don't. I may suck at dealing with it but money is not a big deal for me. It only becomes a big deal when I'm down to my last hundred and have to skip the extra french fries. Unlike the Type A prototype, I look at my inherent value and do not measure my worth with money. Because then I'd be pretty worthless. Heh. They say a Type A person always needs neat surroundings. Everyone can attest to this - I'm a goddamn mess. Friends have made a hobby out of organizing my bag. My grandma says every time I leave a room it looks like a tornado hit it. I wouldn't deny it. My bedroom is a fire hazard. They say Type A people deny emotion and not even know they have any. They feel guilty for having or showing emotions because they feel like they have to be a perfectly performing machine. I say, huh? I am pretty emotional - PMS or not. My friends will agree - especially those who have seen me transform into a blubbering idiot. I even have the towel I cried on yesterday to prove it. As for being a perfectly performing machine, let me just say, if someone bought me, they would be maxing out their warranty - or worse, be returning me the next day.

So yeah, Type A my ass.


***

Oops

Conversation with grandma about her cordless phone:


Lola: "Look at this, I don't think it's working."
Me: "The battery's dead."
Lola: "Yeah, I should charge it."
Me: "Yeah. See, you can't even press this button anymore."
Lola: "Yeah, I don't think it's working right."
Me: "You have to get a new one."
Lola: "Why?"
Me: "Because it's old!"
Lola: "So what! I'm old!"
Me: [laughter]
Lola: [indignant] "I'm old but you can still put me to use!"
Me: [laughter]



***

Food delivery whore

CHRI, Fi and I wanted to have food delivered. Chri and I tried to decide on the restaurant while chatting on MSN which was hilarious because we live just a few steps away from each other. Fi walked back and forth from my house to theirs, making things even funnier.

And when they finally called Don Henrico's to place an order, the delivery guy said he'd just deliver the food to my house because he already knows where it is.

Funny.

This is the same branch that I call, where I only have to give my first name and they would already know it's me and know where to bring the food.

Pretty damn cool.

Similar to the Chinese resto I call from my office. They don't even ask for my number or my address anymore and the food would just arrive.

Yeah, I'm a food delivery whore.






 
June 10, 2003

THIS is Supernanny's first blog entry. I would have posted this earlier but she types slow.

Pamela said I should write about what I have been doing so okay.

Yesterday I knew we had to go to her office but it was 1 in the afternoon and she was still locked up in her room. I tried waking her up, asking if she wanted to eat but she hid under her blanket and told me to heat her bath water. I wonder why she has her computer on the bed and keeps it on all night even when she's sleeping. I start tidying up her side table but she tells me to do it later. That was when I noticed her swollen eyes.

When she finally got up to take a bath, she asked me to help her find her sunglasses. I only found the blue one, not the silver she wanted. I knew she needed them to hide her swollen eyes. Ate Lin, the cook, and Ate Mel, the other househelp, were teasing me, saying I made Pamela cry. I wouldn't make her cry.

Ate Glenda, the laundrywoman, lent me pocketbooks to read. I like Tagalog romance novels - they're very emotional. I always bring a lot of books when we go to Pamela's office. Because there was one time we were stuck there for days because of the flood and I was bored and I had nothing to read.

Pamela gave me another shirt today. I like it, it's soft.

When we left the house she was wearing black from head to toe, except for her purple scarf and the sunglasses. I tried asking her why she cried but she wouldn't say. I think she has a lot on her mind. She has been forgetting things lately. Last week, she forgot her money. Today, she said she wanted to bring the soft purple slippers her cousin gave her but she forgot them.

She was quiet in the taxi as well, just listening to her music. The only time she moved was when she tapped my shoulder and pointed outside the window. The parade of the movie stars passed right by us. I saw Ding Dong Dantes and Regine Velasquez and Maui Taylor and Bong Revilla. It was very exciting but I don't think she cared. She just went back to listening to her music.

When we got to her office, she gave me money so I could eat and asked me to buy her food from McDonald's. She wanted two pieces of chicken, no leg, large fries, orange juice and a hot fudge sundae. But when Pamela opened the box, she saw that they gave her a chicken leg. She just gave it to her friend.

I just sat in her office while she worked. I used to stay in the lobby. The chairs were nice but there were mosquitos at night. I also became lonely at night, when no one else would be left there but the guards. I like staying in the office because it's bright and there are a lot of people and Pamela and her friends joke with me.

I listened to my radio, read magazines and fixed her folders and files. She has a lot of paper in her office.

I also talked to Pamela's friend Jason about Meteor Garden. I used to watch it in Singapore. I still watch it now. Pamela doesn't watch it. She doesn't watch TV. She only stays in her room and stares at her computer all day.

A few hours later, she asked me to buy street food but when she found out they ran out of squid balls, she ended up giving the food away. But I think it's good that there were no more squid balls. I worry about her. Lately she has been eating nothing but McDonald's chicken, luncheon meat and squid balls. And she doesn't drink her vitamins everyday. I leave them on little plates all over the house - beside her plate on the dining table, on her bookshelf, on her sidetable, I remind her to drink them maybe five times a day but sometimes she still doesn't.

She's stubborn sometimes.

She kept her sunglasses on the whole day and only took them off when her eyes returned to normal. It's five a.m. and we are still in her office. I have been sleeping while sitting on a chair. It's not very easy. The office is cold. It's good I have the jacket she gave me. But it's okay. She says today we will not leave the house. We will be resting.

I think today I should fix her cabinets. She says she wants to arrange her clothes by color.

Okay, I'll stop now. I think Pamela wants to use her computer again.


***

SPREAD a little love by giving out chocolates in the office.

Felt good.


***

ACCORDING to the big HR boss, I possess an A1 personality.

And he says that's pretty scary.

I tried sneaking a look at my profile, which he had in his hands, and saw these words: Leader. Urgent. Impulsive.

That's not scary... erm, right?

***

TIM called from New York to say that the Steve Madden slippers I asked him to get for me are no longer available in the stores.

Damnit.

Been trying to think of what else I could ask him to buy but have come up with nothing except maybe this and this.

And yeah, the list of DVDs I e-mailed him last week.

Pretty confident about the shopping because he's coming home around payday.

But damnit, here I go again spending my money before I even get it.

I need to be spanked.

Me: "My brother handles money better than me."

Ex-guy best friend: "Dude, everyone handles money better than you."