02.01.04; Year end Yippee! Yahoo! Yehey!; 03:58


No. of wind chimes in my room: 2. This New Year’s party pooper: Luningning, Mama’s biologically male cat. An officemate’s prediction for me for 2004: “Buong taon kang naka-plunging neckline,” whilst looking at my top. (If that were the case, then I’d be tucking my mobile phone in my t-shirt bra out of paranoia and I’d be wearing a flirty, black thong from Topshop all year long.) Blessings received for New Year: Crazybitch’s 7 candles for love, lust and revenge. Preparations for New Year: Errr…chocolate mousse? Source of noise for New Year: Uhm, my mouth?


Dear Niwee,


Before we look ahead and list down our objectives for this year, allow me to have a refresher first. I’m in the mood for Gimme 10! Join me.


Gimme top 10 diary excerpts (in chronological order).



08.02.2003, Sleepless Saturday, 23:32


Buying power: none. E-mailing power: none. Texting power: none, since 01.02.2003. Offers for a Valentine blast: inaudible. Unforgettable result of practicum evaluation: Poise/Confidence=2.5 (I’m telling you, it’s the toothpick shower!!!). Ideas for a better name for my diary: -16.


An interesting thing happened during the lecture. Strike 2: The foreign guy who looks like one of the organizers asked the last lecturer about their efforts for the students to read “since the students here are not asking questions”. The hour-long downright show of uninterest among student-participants ensued to noise meltdown. Take note, this guy need not to approach the mic to turn heads and solicit silence whereas the lecturers, specifically the one who answered the question, fell victim to today’s generation’s lack of attention span.


Strike 1: As a part of our exposure trip for the subject Development Communication, we visited International Rice Research Institute (if my memory serves me right) and were encouraged to air questions after the film showing. I could say our professors barked up the wrong tree, pressing the speakers as if they were government heads. Finally, a white guy came to the podium, commented, “I heard you’re asking them hot questions,” with a smile and delivered an ultra-clear speech that no one had the balls to contradict.


Why is it too easy for most of us to watch these fair-complexioned individuals with mouths hanging open or heads nodding incessantly? What makes them so special that they can effortlessly transform boredom to otherwise? Just asking, I’m one clueless kid.



20.02.2003, Terrifying Thursday, 22:09


Surprises for today: A bubbly phone call from Cheng; Realizations for today: There is a possibility that Coke’s dream, me as non-graduate come March, will come true; No. of resumes submitted through jobstreet.com: 2; No. of resumes submitted through walk-in: 1.


Since I was covering this interview alone, aside from Nano, my beloved tripod, and Ninang Erna, I asked him to read my palm. He described me as an impulsive spender and a my-way person, among others. Among his predictions regarding my screwed-up love life: I should avoid getting involved with married men. (If my hearing serves me right, that was plural.) A guy living nearby my house is interested in me. There will come a time when I will be torn between two beaus (wow, that made me feel a bit attractive) and a foreigner will recognize and fall to the deadly charm my Mama gave me. Hehe. Though, my marriage will end up in separation. (This is quite similar to Kakai’s prediction that I will tie the knot twice). My career will soar during the early years of my twenteen’s, he claimed. He saw me crossing boundaries in the future but failed to mention anything about Galadriel and Nyah, the most amazing twins to ever walk the earth. (Anyway, these names are still under deep analysis since I want my children to carry the –dahl effect).


The rest of the night went smoothly. We two were left at the dining table and discussing about single hood to motherhood. The one comment she said that made me really think was, “Kung career-oriented ka, foreigner dapat ang pakasalan mo. Kasi ang mga Pinoy maghahanap ‘yan na hainan mo…”



28.02.2003, Final Friday, 20:20


No. of resumes sent out on a weekday: Forget it! Texting power: On the verge of collapse (“Your account balance is 79 pesos and 0 centavos. Goodbye!”) E-mailing power: Huhuhuhu.The most diagnosed disease/s among Communication students at this time of the year: Broken pockets, emotional stress and of course, miscommunication.


Ma told me that younger bro L didn’t attend his JS Prom. I know the reason why. (Could you be more subtle? Please?) It pained me to learn that my socially impaired brother whom I showered with encouragements before to go out and let loose still refused to be like a normal teen. What even pained me was when I overheard him on the phone, obviously chatting with a peer, asking who he danced that night and so forth.


Sigh. How could I be an achiever at school while being a first-rate loser at home? I’ll be better after this sem. I could resurrect that big sister who buys his youngest brother comic books or rent him youth-oriented flicks every weekend and motivate him to excel in English in class. I could bring back to life those audible arguments about music or wrestling. And I will.



That leads me to my new observation about myself. I have been facing duties alone recently. To be specific, I taped 2 segments for our news mag program (Bey Blade and Faith Healer) and went to Quiapo to have our black and white photos developed all by myself. (Hmmm…sounds like Bridget Jones). Is this a premonition that I will spend the rest of my life single and busy?

By the way, I found out a very horrible thing about Quiapo. SM Quiapo has no diner, no fast food chain or food court within! As in! Wala bang sikmura mga tao don?!


And for the record, the finale of “Sa Dulo ng Walang Hanggan” was a certified career suicide for its director. The rooftop scene will definitely have a room in our memory banks.



29.03.2003, Sabbatical Saturday, 22:02


Texting power: Do I have to answer this? E-mailing power: Not in practice! Buying power: None, but had the power to watch a flick today! (And all that jazz…) Films I should have viewed by now: Final Destination 2, Dream catcher and Gangs of New York.



Strike 3: During graduation, the sole magna cum laude, and the sole foreigner, delivered her farewell speech. Yes, go figure. Why is this happening? The Guest Speaker words were full of wits and hyper-bola yet the former made gape seeds out of the starving and bored audience.


Guess what? Mommy’s defense was a walking success! Three of the panelists graded her with 1.00 while the other two gave her 1.25! I’m so proud of her! But I had my share of the limelight, too! Sir Nick Tiongson, the former MTRCB head and the incoming Dean of UP-Diliman’s College of Mass Communication, complimented my work as a videographer. Breath-taking it is. Later on, Jan, Mommys friend, commented, “Lorna, La Salle yun, UP ‘to!” after I aired my confusion since Lasallians consider me as the last videographer and/or photographer in the land. Really cool.



27.04.2003, Sleepless Sunday, 22:01


No. of persons in their late twenties who refused to believe I’m only twenteen: 2. No. of persons in their late twenties who got convinced I’m only twenteen: 1. Places that give me the creeps: 7/F and 25/F (Women’s CR). This week’s new sanctuary: Mom’s bedroom.


There were plenty more who were introduced to me as fellow ninangs. Considering there were absentees, the present ones are already sufficient to make an American football team, including the cheerleaders! Why are Filipinos so into quantity? And why is it too hard for them to follow instructions delivered in their native language? I could attest the catechists used mics but this proved to be futile. And speaking of catechists, they should start interacting with Webster since they can’t decipher the difference between force and donation. And the reception…Oh, please, don’t let me start!


Either I’m being a sponge again for human behavior knowledge or I’m being bitchy again. Ain’t in the mood to decide.



03.05.2003, Shopping Saturday, 22:45.


No. of hours spent sleeping during the weekdays: 22. “Katas” ng payday: 1.) Payment for our phone bill last month 2.) A feast one Thursday afternoon 3.) My new batch of toiletries and cosmetics 4.) Donation 5.) An assurance of 1-week online presence and 3-week texting power 6.) The official comic book adaptation of “X-men The Movie” (unwittingly considering it as “X-2”) for my brothers…Successful mock calls: 3 out of 6. No. of persons persuading me to share a condo unit with them: 2. No. of back massage I got during the wee hours of Friday: 2


Tomorrow afternoon, Mommy would be throwing a graduation party in our old school. It is always a wonder for my kind how the high school friends will jive with the college ones considering they, it seemed, have different approaches to things. High school peeps, or some of mine, for that matter, are the investigative types, digging for signs that college sculpted one’s cognitive performance. College kids? They take pride in their high school goof-around yet find it too immature to apply it anymore. My point? Well, high school guys tend to find college counterparts manipulative while the latter subconsciously manifest scorn for the other.



19.05.2003; Monday Mallrat goes to the Matrix; 14:24


No. of fellas outside my circle of college friends who miraculously expressed their longing for an apathetic jerk like me: 3. “Katas” ng payday (part 2): 1.) The new home of my beloved, and sadly, abandoned missives 2.) A gift for our patient mentor 3.) Pop corn for family viewing 4.) Another batch of office must-haves 5.) SIM pack upgrade (as if there’s plenty of people who’d die for some slot) 6.) Bills 7.) An assurance of weeklong online presence and two-week texting power…Pats in the back/congratulations/jelly ace: 3. No. of quirky experiences while on a bus: 2. Truth I must learn to accept sooner: I only receive important messages when I’m half-asleep. No. of top-flight Meteor Garden researchers surrounding me at work: Writers can’t count.


Dear No-name Diary,


It is funny how people tend to contradict themselves. Take this one instance when I, yes, the usual owner of shaking head once acts of over-familiarization rolls before my very eyes, did a blatant display of intimacy, and perhaps, apathy, when (fer gawd’s sake, don’t ask the date!) I waltzed in to my second cousin’s 3rd birthday (no, not as the videographer), sporting an air-cool top, Lilliputian shorts and slippers, and of course, the I-just-rose-up-from-bed coiffure only I could introduce. (Hmmm…don’t you think I should describe this day as Megalomaniac Monday?) Here’s the juiciest part: I committed my top socialization no-no: Eat-and-run! And as if I were the most important being that early evening, I took some more and brought it to work. Tita G probably gave me the lanera (?) of leche flan as a consolation. Oh God! I hope she’s clueless about what I did when I was four and craving for leche flan at my ninang’s party!



02.06.2003; Mon-day Millionaire; 02:59


No. of plans being devised by friends so I won’t leave my Matrix tumbler behind anymore: infinite! Signs that meteoric rise to superstardom is enjoyed by – everybody now! – F4: 1. When I phoned the customer service of my ISP, the agent who entertained my call was humming the scoring (ain’t sure though if from the opening or closing). 2. I always get to see VCDs of the mentioned group’s soap opera on every jeepney rides I had. 3. Old friendships on the verge of collapse. 4. F4 toppled their Irish counterparts in a certain music charts. The latest additions to my long list of look alikes: A girl from Cavite City surprisingly named Jorna. No. of Scorpion women who found compatibility with Capricorn men: 2. No. of Scorpion women who found incompatibility with Capricorn men: 1. No. of supervisors whom I wish was able to read the word boldly written on my shirt Friday (?) night: 4. No. of supervisors who had an eyeful after seeing Yeng’s top Saturday (?) morning: 1. This week’s moment that made me wants to dig Lolo from his grave: Crispa vs. Toyota.


Dear No-Name Diary,


When it rains, it pours. So when our backyard reeked from body of water and other substances I was unaware of, everybody’s husbands in our neighborhood offered my mom with assistance. Sweet! The next time this happens, I pray, everybody’s last-born sons would flock in. And if it’s not too much to ask, Lord, no middle children please. Hmmm…and I’ll toss my bro and do the carwash myself. Liv Tyler style. Ha!


A good friend’s guardian is currently blacklisted on my records. Though she never revealed the situation she’s in, I could tell she’s being excommunicated and emotionally maltreated. Truly it is so wise of him to uncover her former acts of disobedience, but to encroach on her personal belongings is a violation of my friend’s human rights! I had been a victim of this before, Diary, and I believe people shouldn’t respond to such by sitting idly by! Where’s a lawyer when you need one?


Oh yeah, I remember! We’re in the Philippines.



29.06.2003; Stoic Sunday; 22:27


Another human being who refused to believe I’m only twenteen: My boss’s wife. Average no. of calls I handle each day, at work: 45; at home: 0. No. of times resisted the urge to lift my left middle finger this week: 2. No. of times surrendered to the urge to raise my right middle finger this week: 1. No. of Spanish callers who indirectly implied I speak bad English: 1. No. of Spanish callers who reckon I’m one-in-a-million after pronouncing their names properly: 1. This week’s favourite newspaper: Manila Bulletin, Saturday edition. This week’s online surprises: 1. A batch mate is getting married this December 2. The yahoo group dispute has abated; 3. Someone got interested after my usage of the words, ”olfactory nerves”.


Dear oh dear,


Today’s parish priest was beaming with pride to see faithful Christians hear the Mass inspite of the fiasco that swept the nation. He shouldn’t be. I was just dragged away from the computer this morning to attend the Mass since it’s been ages since I had Sunday as my rest day. As for the other churchgoers, I can’t tell what’s behind their enthusiasm to spend the morning there. I hate it when I’m being told to hear the Mass. I’ll go if I want to. So off I went, sat when we’re supposed to, stood when everybody else did, yawned when everybody else crooned praises, took a nap when all reflected. I didn’t bother echo the responses since it would only insult God. All these being said, it was no surprise no drop of holy water landed on me. Besides, it always happens.


I attended this Spanish film viewing yesterday. It would have been a cultured experience only if Filipinos prevented themselves from being pompous, talkative latecomers. Even my date was worried that I may be bored stiff with his company when I’m actually preparing my mindset for the film. Talkative people shut up, too.


I wasn’t stoic all week long. Someone at work has been helping me for my blood to rush back to my cheeks. It has started early this week, when his exotic eyes finally caught my apathetic ones. He strutted the strut, laughed the laugh and probably even farted the fart. And in a matter of milliseconds, my smile is his alone. Few more strides, laughs and farts, my hypothalamus would be his. But this can’t be. 1. He belongs to a crowd alien to mine. 2. I haven’t even heard the contents of his brain. (Does saying “Bad ka,” after we stepped out of the elevator count?) 3. I’m supposed to be working.



27.07.2003; Soldiers and Sunday; 20:07


Another look-alike, according to Sir GJP: Connie Reyes; Texting power: PhP9.00; Buying power: Almost imaginary; Surfing power: None. TV moment this week: Realizing Jewel has followed the footsteps (or is it gyrations?) of Mariah Carey.

One early evening this week, I decided to pretend I’m a patriotic being. A neophyte still, I commenced such plan by watching a local news show. I was bombarded with the confirmation that my early fears are materializing. Filipinos are indeed determined to put another cinema icon to the presidential throne. This is madness! This is outright stupidity! This is tiring!


Being one of the angry souls who marched to Edsa Shrine to oust the former pig, I find being surrounded by pathetic people a pathetic situation for me to be in. It doesn’t take a politically inclined individual to realize that we should stop flipping back to the old pages of the history book and move on. Plus, it doesn’t help that I work in a call center. I feel like a front liner for all of our foolish folks out there, especially when callers detect that our accent doesn’t resemble theirs. Some would react, “I don’t like Filipinos. They kill people” while the others go, “I don’t like companies which hire foreign employees!”. Now that FPJ is the biggest bet come Election Day, I expect my callers to utter sarcasm-dripping comments related to the forthcoming political event. Denying one’s nationality has never been that difficult.


And makes me more determined not to cast a vote that fateful day.


Sources: Untold Version (my offline journal dating 16.01.03 to 20.09.03) and ScorpionSyrup

Note: If you could notice, no ScorpionSyrup made it to the Top 10. Does that mean I write better when I have no audience?


Gimme 10 personalities associated with your looks this year.


1.Somebody’s wife’s look alike during the baptism.

2. My professor in Advertising

3. An officemate’s best friend

4. My ex-boyfriend’s current (?) partner

5. A girl from Cavite City surprisingly named Jorna

6. Connie Reyes

7. Local sexy star Andrea del Rosario

6. Errr…Ashley Judd. Bwahahahaha.

7. Uhm….uhm, Juliette Binoche (says HamboG)

8. Kate Beckinsale (says gumpaste and crazybitch)

9. Christina Ricci (says leeney_v)

10. Angelina Jolie (says fayxx)


Gimme 10 nick/online names acquired this year.

  1. Lornadahling
  2. lhornahdahl
  3. florna dhal
  4. lornadahldahl
  5. chaka doll (heck with the spelling)
  6. baby dinosaur
  7. chubaka
  8. lady lornadahl
  9. miss lornadahl
  10. Ma’am.

Special Awards:

Friendster of the Year: Bernard Bryan.

Friendster testimonial of the Year: Cleo’s.

Myspace Friend of the Year: Lyn.

Myspace Comment of the Year: Vannie’s.

Picture of the Year (Online Category): Got me?

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