JUNE 16, 2004 (WEDNESDAY)
I find myself censoring this entry for fear of hurting other people, or for fear of being too open about my life. More than one reader has already told me that inspite of never having met me before, they feel like they know "who I am" as if I were some quantifiable creature to be analyzed under a microscope.
Not that I mind. If people find my life interesting enough to follow, it's all good. Feel free to poke around my life.
But what I can spill out - and by being consciouly vague, which will earn me more sharp pointy objects thrown in my direction - is this: I am more messed up than anyone would have thought possible. And no matter how much I try to pull myself together, all the ends of my strings just keep on insisting to unravel.
My Five-Year Plan
Everyone's been asking me what I plan to do after I graduate. Some people think they know what my plans are; let me tell you now that the future changes from time to time and what I said before - enthusiastically or not - might not be my position now.
But this are the things I officially want to accomplish before I'm 25. If you're interested to see how things turn out, drop me a line.
Anyway, first off I want a writing job. Yes, I want to work either as a lowly magazine staff writer or editorial assistant or as copywriter or freelancer (and certain friends of mine will dissuade me from these particular fields because of financial reasons). Well yeah, whatever. No job is perfect. Even Bill Gates will sometimes wake up in the morning and say to himself, "God, I hate my job." Nevertheless, I still want to try them out. I'm not sure if I'm absolutely certain I want to teach - I can, and I know of a few educational institutions who would be more than happy to have me grace their hallways with my presence, but I do not think, given my certain frame of mind, that I will last.
Secondly, I want a thriving social life. I want to continually meet new people and see new people and yet remain in close contact with a core group of friends. Maybe even find someone who's actually willing to settle down with me and have regular sex with. *gasp* (Is that even possible in this day and age?) Still. I want to be busy.
Thirdly, I want a room of my own. As in an apartment. With running water. And four walls. Windows. A nice big double bed with crisp white sheets and soft pillows. Oh goodness, I want nice clean pillows. For those with your own rooms, you don't know how damn lucky you are. Even if it's an old walk-in closet or supply room and it still smells faintly of mothballs - the point is you have your own space to retreat to in times of need. When I need to retreat from shit, I have to get out of the house and take a walk.
And finally, I want a computer of my own. With a printer. With a modem. With a scanner. With all that digital paraphernalia. No more people peeping into my files when I'm not looking. (And why I don't use password protect - because I keep forgetting the damn passwords.) No more people peering over my shoulder when I type. No more questions like, "Did you go to So-and-So website the day before?" or queueing (right spelling?) up for using the computer and asserting your rights to do homework, write down your shit, or use the Internet. My portable Pensieve.
So there. Those are my goals. It's not like I want to save the world, or feed a small African nation. And I'm not looking for world domination or even winning the Palancas. Let me get these things off my chest first, and then we'll start dreaming about that MA degree, that trip to London, and those writing awards. And then maybe finding The One, settling down, getting married, and having kids.