what a grouch.

i hate living with my sister. she picks at every. single. thing. it's almost as if she 1. is ashamed of me, 2. thinks i am a child that cannot be spoken to in a mature manner (hence, the incessant scolding), and 3. believes she is superior to me in all respects (which basically explains the first two points). if she weren't pregnant, and if i weren't such a mature, responsible adult, i would have snapped back at her (or screamed at her) days ago. this just makes me all the more motivated to find my own place. speaking of which...

i realise that it is near-impossible to find a cheap place to live that is close to work. my boss offered to have me stay at his old house in the east side, but my older sister did not fancy it much. maybe because the place is a few blocks away from the red-light district. hm. i myself find nothing very wrong about it. my only inhibitions lie with the fact that we saw men drinking in front of the house late at night. that, plus the fact that i will be living on my own most of the time... not really the most comforting of thoughts. but right now i would rather brave drunk men at my front stoop than a hormonally-imbalanced older sister who has always lorded it over her younger siblings. five years older than i am, and she still throws temper tantrums. i really doubt her ability to be a good mother. but that is not really my problem now, is it? poor kid. that is all i have to say. the baby will definitely need me around for most of its formative years. otherwise, the child will end up psychologically scarred and emotionally maladjusted. among other things.

right. back to finding a new flat. away from the sibling from hell.

to-do list (before i reach 30)

1. learn how to cycle.
2. watch U2 perform live.
3. make my first million (pesos).
4. go back to the City. (and gloat in his face. ha!)
5. be financially independent enough to live on my own.
6. travel to tibet.
7. get published. (not architecture-related)
8. learn (and be fully conversant in) a foreign language. (mandarin is acceptable)
   
9. cross the equator.
10. work as an intern (either in a publication or a kitchen!)
    

20kg

it's a pain in the neck trying to relocate to another city when your luggage allowance is limited to one mid-sized suitcase. when i moved across two continents (okay, one and a half) back in 2005, i was able to bring almost twice as much with me. argh. baggage limits were more lenient then, before all those crazy terrorist threats with ipods and fanta bottles. plus, you are allowed more stuff when taking long-haul flights. and i guess it didn't hurt that i flew business class. oh well.

it's really difficult trying to prioritise your worldly possessions. for sure, there are bare necessities that you shouldn't go without. but i wonder how many shirts and trousers i would need for the meantime, not to mention shoes or sandals. then there are the objects of sentimental value. they're not exactly necessary, but they're important. factor in unknown return date, and you have a very tough maths problem.

(X shirts + X trousers + X footwear) / Y months = 20kg ± 10%

moving is great. it's the packing that gets to me.

hangover without the alcohol

sakit ng ulo ko. leche.

i had tea at 5pm yesterday, at the coffee bean & tea leaf. and i wasn't able to fall asleep until 4.30am this morning. when i opened my eyes it was half past nine, and i realised i had a shitload of calls to make regarding my flight out later this week. so i forced myself out of bed despite my pseudo-inebriated state.

sakit rin ng tyan ko. ugh.

i'm going back to bed. i've done what i needed to do. wake me up when it's 5pm.

get. off. my. back.

GOOD LORD.

what does a girl need to do to get some independence in this household??? kill myself, most likely.

after the episode with mother last night - she got upset about my booking a flight that lands at an insane hour - my sister calls this morning and gives me an earful. and then the firm keeps bugging me to go over ASAP. which i would be more than glad to do, honestly. but NOOOOOOOOOOOO. the family must know EVERY. SINGLE. DECISION. i make. when i'm flying out, where i will be staying, how i will get there, when i will start work, when i will get to live in the office apartment, how will i get the keys, etc etc etc. GODDAMMIT. not everything needs to be planned out to the last SECOND, OKAY?!?!? so what if i booked a flight that arrives midnight in the middle of the work week? i'll get on nicely, thank you. i HAVE lived on my own for, oh, i don't know, OVER TWELVE MONTHS, haven't i? and that's WITHOUT ANY RELATIVES WITHIN SPITTING DISTANCE. i have to say, that was the best time of my life. to not have someone breathing down my neck every five minutes.

maybe i should just make plans and not let them know and disappear from their lives for the next ten years. i'll probably do something like that once i'm on my own, anyway. they need to realise that it is MY life. and that i am more than capable of taking care of myself.

i am SOOOOOOOO moving out of this nuthouse. for good.