Things I have learned

In the past week, I have learned all the crap we were never taught in college, such as:

Buying property:

• If the picture shows that there are either grills on the windows or a metal fence that surrounds the house, you may have to duck and run to your car everyday to dodge whatever may hit you, be it stray bullets or bird shit. Why? Because in neighborhoods such as these, you never know what's gonna hit you.
• There is much meaning in the phrase, "You live in the OC, eh?" People who live in Orange County do not know how lucky they are to have the well-planned streets and breathing spaces in between lots. LA County, for the most part, where the affordable homes are, sucks like a bag of dung and grass. People from the OC are spoiled? Damn straight we are. I would rather rent then run sprints from my car to the house on a crowded street in a crowded neighborhood.
• When the listing says "Owner willing to negotiate," don't even bother making an offer. There is no owner willing to negotiate. You make an offer and they will not only bite your hand off, they will also take your whole arm, make you walk on one leg, ask you to file for bankruptcy, sell your dog to the gypsies for the little extra cash, and take your fake leather wallet.
• Patience is not a virtue. It is a waste of time. The longer it takes for me to buy property, the less likely I will be able to afford it in the next couple of months. Go fucking figure.

Buying a Dress for a wedding in Montreal:

My dress is a pretty, off-white, halter, silhouette with light fuschia pink flowers of which 2 are carefully situated on the upper left portion of the halter (right above the left boob) and 2 on the right leg below the hips. I fell in love with it the moment I tried it on. Mom and The Boy Friend agree with it, too.

• The difficulty in buying the right stilletos of the right shade of fuschia to match this dress does not compare to Christmas Shopping. The latter is much easier.
• Buying skivvies for a dress that shows everything but the dimples on your butt is more of a hassle than it is a well-deserved shopping spree. Only one color and one style will help me pull off the decent-summery-casual-happy-girly-look. The color is grandma-nude. The style, I still have to figure out. The wrong undies will simultaneously push tummy-fat in the in the wrong places (I wonder if is there is underwear that can push tummy fat up to the boobies) and make me look a like a screaming whore from California who likes pink. Hello, VS; good-bye next paycheck.
• There is no bag the right shade of fuschia.

They should have taught buying dresses and gowns in college under fiscal management, because:

Dress, shoes, accessories, and skivvies, $250. Impression one makes with dress, shoes, accessories, and skivvies on The Boy Friend's relatives and friends, priceless.

Meeting my Boy Friend's relatives and friends:

• There is no way I will make it through the day without tripping or falling on my face. I have the tendency to make a mockery out of myself under extreme pressure.
• After this event, I will have to undergo speech therapy. I will also have extended temporary psychosis and paranoia.
• I have to smile and pretend it doesn't hurt when all I'll want to do is hide in the bathroom.

I know it sounds shallow, but these are the things they should have taught us in college, not some square root of some number you'll never think about again. What about real-life situations? What about the meaning of jumbo loans, five-year fixed interest and variable interest rates? How to save for the future? Retirement plans? What about what to say to your partner's relatives or the right wedding present for someone you barely know? How not to screw up everyday? Why didn't anyone tell us that we had to start investing at the age of five in order to live comfortably at age 65, without having to bust our chops and increase the likelihood of getting a hernia and high blood pressure?

Tell me, out of all the classes I missed, which one talked about how to stay on the road that veered away from the looney bin?

Pre-Menstrual pSychosis

I'm pissed. I woke up this morning tired and groggy. I was asleep for a good 12 hours, then the alarm went off. I think there is something wrong with my eyes. I haven't gone to the gym in a week. I have to go shopping. And no one washed the dishes last night!

So, my sister got into a car accident yesterday, she's ok. I heard Mom yelling at her last night. I think she screwed up. I wonder how much this is going to cost me.

We made another offer on a house, which pissed my brother off, but he signed the papers anyway. I don't know what he was so pissy about, it's not like I go around complaining how fucking far away everything is from my house. I drive 60 miles a day, back and forth, and they don't hear me say squat. When I was looking through the listings, I didn't consider how far it would be for myself, I was even considering West fucking Covina. So, just because Long Beach is an extra 30-mile drive from your office, don't give me shit about it because I did not see your lazy ass looking for a place, while Mom complained that no one was "making an extra effort to find a house." And then when The Boy Friend comes back to visit, I am supposed to feel fucking guilty because the weeks prior to that I "was too lazy to go look around the fucking neighborhood." Why did you people forget that you have four kids? 4! Quatro! Apat! Four kids!!! I am not the only one with sound judgement. I am not the only one capable of making decisions. Why don't you ask your other three kids to go help, because my Boy Friend is here once a month, and I don't need fucking guilt trips at the last fucking minute because I, your only child, didn't haul ass three weeks before that! Who looked up houses every single day? Who called our agent to go see the house? Who took time off work to "make an extra fucking effort" just so we can move before the end of the year? And then, when I finally go off and do something for myself, I am supposed to feel guilty for it because I am not doing anything? Hello! There are three other kids. Don't give me shit about the other one being busy with school. Screw that! I went to school, worked and got good grades at the same time. I did not have the luxury of driving around. I hauled my ass from one place to another in terrible humid weather, dodging fucking jeepney drivers and pickpocketers. How come when I suggest that you ask my other brother, who is, by the way, 22 years old, to go help out, you tell me "let him be?" What the fuck is that? When you tell me shit, do you hear me talk back? I just fucking sit there. But when you scold your other three kids, they have justifications for everything! But I'm the terrible daughter who walks around the house like a grouch.

I swear, I should have fucked up a long time ago, then, maybe people would get off my back.

Anyway, Francis was here last weekend. I'm glad. That is the only time when people don't bother me, which is great, because I have to maximize every minute I have with him. We barely talk anymore because of our conflicting schedules. Thank God, I will be there next week.

Quit it with the "I'm not used to seeing you with a boy friend" bit. Get used to it! Get over it! The reason why you're not used to it is because you don't see me move on from one boy friend to the next. I can actually stand to be alone, and I was for three years, damn it. So let me lean on Francis in peace without having you people in the background saying "I'm not used to it." Ah. Go screw the wall. And so fucking what if I smile only when he's around. That's a lot more I than can say when I'm with you people!

Shit. One more week of this.

Disclaimer: This is only temporary psychosis. I will not mean this shit when things get back to normal (give or take a week). Let me be pissy now, because in five minutes, people will still expect me to smile.

*Sigh*

Today, I am fat. Fatter than I was yesterday. I am lazy. I woke up late. I have crap on my desk. My hair is too long. I want to go shopping. I, generally, do not like people right now. My hair is too long. It's only 930 a.m. and I want to go home and sleep, but then, I'd get bored and want to come back to work. I want to clean the house, but everyone has their crap all over the place. There has been no response, yet, to the offer we made. My tank is almost empty. I have to get the car's oil changed. I want to be by myself. I don't want to talk. People should just leave me alone because I don't feel like smiling today. Don't call me, or I will shoot you with a pellet gun very close to your crotch, because that's where it hurts the most.

I can't wait till Friday.

Good times, good times

I spent the weekend with Eljene, my best friend from the seventh grade. It was a fluke; she was really supposed to have spent it with JR, her best friend. Anyway, we went to lunch on Saturday and I took her to Melrose because she loves vintage clothing and is not afraid to buy anything used (unlike me, who is afraid of everything). This was my weekend adventure. It was my first time there, to be walking around people who were dressed to look casually fashionable and pretend not to care about anything else except the coffee drink in one hand and the oversized shopping bags hanging on their shoulders. We walked around a little, but found the prices to be too damn expensive for something someone else wore 3 times. So, to be adventurous, I bought a blouse for the next weekend.

We talked of high school, junior high, college and life, in general. I told her about Francis and she told me about her "non-boy friend", John. We compared sucky ex-boy friend stories, her's being worse than mine by 5 points, to justify why we are the way we are now. She is at that point I was about 1 1/2 years ago- scared, independent, and cynical about everything to do with relationships. I told her one day it will just smack her on the ass, to which she screamed, "I miss you, John, but no, not yet." This sounded familiar in an icky sort of way, how I used to proclaim bullshit then take it back. She obviously missed the guy, but could not go as far as she wanted.

Good times, good times. She would repeat this every-so-often. It was kind of weird and positive at the same time. I was just glad to be with her, because it was 10 years ago we cried outside the SF Public Library. Tears running down our faces and snot being wiped off with our cardigans, we said we were best friends and that we loved each other and how it sucked that I was leaving. I wish I forgot why we had that embarrassing confrontation, where people passed and looked at us with inquisition, probably thinking that we were smarmy little Catholic school kids crying over the dumbest thing. It was, in truth, dumb, but it hurt like hell 10 years ago, when all we had were report cards and pre-pubescent features.

We had breakfast again on Sunday morning and I brought her to the airport. And that was that.

Good times, Elj, good times.

Vigan 2

Sunrise at about 4am. I wish I would wake at this time in the morning to see the sky like this again. The only reason I was awake at that time was because the A/C on the bus was so cold that I had to pee. Go figure. Now, I am barely human at 6am.

Vigan

Sunrise at Vigan. I took this about 4 years ago in the Philippines when we took our trip to Vigan, one of the old provinces. Nice, eh?

Trying to change

Ok, so I'm running around on a Friday trying to get everything processed. I've been doing pretty well taking care of the crap on my desk, i.e. getting rid of paper, processing documents, following up work, but every time I turn around to ask a question, more crap is added to the pile. I have a pretty huge desk that I have not seen in the past 3 weeks.

Fortunately, my silent complaints about database and processing have reaped somewhat a few benefits. Management, Dave tells me, is quite impressed with the database that we set up to track our docs, so, he's going to treat me to lunch next week for the great work we've done. We're going to Islands. I love the veggie burgers there.

Anyway, I put in about 6 applications for different sites, all with the same company. Not that I don't like it here, I just need to move forward. Two of the 6 applications are for inter-department moves, and one of the managers showed me that he received my application already. I shrugged and smiled and walked away very fast. I was kind of embarrassed as I had spoken to him about it the week before and he asked me what my bosses would do without me. I really don't know. Hire someone else, maybe? (But not until I get the job, of course.)

And I want that house. Waiting for a response after making that offer is making me antsy.

I am hyper today.

Trip 2

Somewhere in Canada about 15minutes off the runway

I took this picture in the plane (obviously) a little over a month ago. It was the same view I had going into Montreal. Sometimes, I can't believe I was actually there.

Three more weeks and I'll be seeing it again.

Lunch break

I just finished my lunch, which is the usual microwavable Lean Lo-Carb whatever. I burned the roof of my mouth on the four cheese pizza I had yesterday because I rushed to eat lunch and prepare for the 1 o'clock. Today, the vend0 machine guy came and left the freebies on the lounge tables, so, I had a choice of dessert- either the dingdongs or the Fast Break. I opted for the dingdongs that turned out to be dry and a little ick.

I noticed that the happier I am, the less I have to write about. It's a little harder to put happy thoughts down on paper when all I really want to do is sing (to myself, of course) or just walk around with a goofy smile on my face. Anyhow, there are a lot of things on my mind that have kept me quite preoccupied, one being the thing with the thing and the stuff like that. That's how I've been thinking, lately. There are many things that are too specific to talk about and too vague to even be specific about.

So there goes that.

And my happy thought for the day is that today is Friday.

FH bailed on our scheduled get-together this evening. More time for the gym, I guess. Ugh.

Uh-huh part 2

Freudian Inventory Results

Genital (60%) you appear to be stuck between a progressive and regressive outlook on life. Latency (20%) you appear to have an irrational view on the value of learning. Phallic (50%) you appear to have a good balance of sexual awareness and sexual composure. Anal (80%) you appear to be overly self controlled, organized, and subservient to authority. Oral (33%) you appear to be stubbornly and irrationally against receiving help even when it might be the more intelligent option.

Take Free Freudian Inventory Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Now, I really want to whack somebody!

Uh-huh (Got this from Ailene)

Freudian Inventory Results

Genital (56%) you appear to be stuck between a progressive and regressive outlook on life. Latency (30%) you appear to have an irrational view on the value of learning. Phallic (33%) you appear to have negative issues regarding sexuality and/or have an uncertain sexual identity. Anal (80%) you appear to be overly self controlled, organized, and subservient to authority. Oral (30%) you appear to be stubbornly and irrationally against receiving help even when it might be the more intelligent option.

Take Free Freudian Inventory Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Does this give me permission to whack someone?

High School Reunion

I just saw the pictures from the mini-reunion the class of '98 had a couple of nights ago. All my old friends are older versions of the girls they used to be. I miss them, though not each as individuals (save for a few), and the feeling I had when they were around. As I looked at the smiling faces, I wondered how I would have felt to be with them again. Just the thought made me feel a bit awkward. I was close to some, an acquaintance to the rest. I never had a set group of friends, more like close friends from different groups. I don't really know if I've changed much since high school or even if I've changed at all. Maybe this is the reason why some people don't even bother to go. Maybe all of us are finally comfortable in our little niches and do not wish to play victim to judgement. Maybe we don't know where we are in our lives and feel that we have nothing to show for ourselves. Either way, it's always a bit difficult to take one step back into the past. Six years is a long time.

If I didn't live across the ocean, I still would have gone. The older we get, the less we see of ourselves. I might have missed something that night, but I missed them, most of all.

Updates

Ok, so I don't post as often as I used to, only to admit I have a pseudo-life now. One reason why I don't write as much is because all I think about is Francis. (Mushy, I know, but it's the truth. I am as puke-worthy now as I was macho back in college.) I think about him day and night, before bedtime, when I wake up, when I walk, think, run. All the time. So, I figure, my dear friends do not want to know that much and they cannot picture me so...ummm...un-macho-like. The other reason is because, as soon as I get home, I am on the phone talking to Francis. Surprise, suprise. (Look, when your bf/gf lives 3000 miles away, 3 timezones ahead, you will try to squeeze in as much quality time as possible.)

Anyway, of the things that I have done in the past 2 months, there are certain things I will provide updates on.

1. I went to Montreal and stayed there for a week. I had a great time with Francis and Elisa. Though, I could not stay longer (since I AM ABSOLUTELY NO GOOD IN COLD WEATHER). Niagra Falls is beautiful, and, yes, I would go there again be it 9 hours, 12 hours, or 2 days in the car (because the roadtrip itself is memorable). The food in Montreal is great. Everyone speaks French. I, for the most part, walked around clueless (so tourist-y of me). I only bought souvenirs and walking sandals (go figure).
2. My job is still the same, but I am awaiting progress. Hopefully, it comes. I am getting impatient.
3. I have 2 projects I am working. Both are personal. More to come on the two later on. Only thing I can say is they are both BIG.

Boring, eh? That's pretty much it, for now.

My Gatorade

This may sound retarded, but SOMEONE STOLE MY GATORADE. And I am PISSED. I usually do not care when someone steals my food, beverage, whatever the hell you want to call it. This time, though, I wanted that Gatorade after my meeting that lasted too long. That was also my drink for when I go to the gym later (note: gym time is not contingent on Gatorade supply). So, when I opened the fridge door and did not see a bottle with red watery stuff in it, I was mad. I prayed that the person who stole it would get sick from drinking it. Damn it!!! And now I feel bad because I don't really like wishing terrible things upon other people.