SABBATICAL

Maybe a lot (?) of my readers are wondering why I have not posted a single new entry for the entire week. One word for you guys - BUSY. What a week that was!

I have not even tried to open a blog site to post something on the net. It has been ages ago already, I know AND DON'T MOCK ME BITCHES!!! It's not going to help.

Hmmmmm. How can I explain this. Well, it's like this. I know that I have been busy the entire week. That's a given. But I don't even remember the things that I got busy with. Even how hard I try to twitch my brows and crease my lines on my forehead, nothing just would pop up on the top of my head. Maybe it was just a way of my oh-so-brilliant head to forget things that are not pleasant, therefore, emulating a burial ceremony in the deepest, darkest part of my virgin soul for a memory not worth keeping.

Wow, I like the sound of it. Let me repeat that. Maybe it was just a way of my oh-so-brilliant head to forget things that are not pleasant, therefore, emulating a burial ceremony in the deepest, darkest part of my virgin soul for a memory not worth keeping. Oh gees, I am hallucinating now. I need to end this nonsense and get some sleep because this is absolutely going nowhere.

I want to recharge my brain. Sabbatical is what I think is the perfect adjective for it. Or maybe that was exactly what I did. Or so I thought. I need to meditate and sort out my priorities. I need some real inspiration, not the kind that you see in the pages of a porn magazine. Thank you very much.

VICTIM

I do not know if I am just plain unlucky or I carry this curse in job applications and job interviews. I got an email just this week about a job vacancy that I thought was cool and was very reputable, from JobsDB.com. It was an Advertising Copyright Specialist. For one, it sounded like a royalty. It was something that I would love to do.

I checked the website and tried to further research about the company details. For a while there I thought it was very promising, and I was enamoured by it. So silly me applied for the job vacancy online.

After just a few days, I got a call from one of the HR personnel and was invited for a job interview. And of course, (like I said before) as a common courtesy, I confirmed my appointment. No matter how hard it was to wake up and prepare two hours early before work, I showed up. The least that they could do was to have the decency to show up and be professional enough to come up to me and give me the time I deserved.

Waiting was the name of the game. So I did. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. And bam. There was a lady in blue uniform approaching me whom I thought was from the janitorial services. (Oooops) She was telling me her boss was in a meeting and she was informed to do the interview. I said fine. Whatever works for you. And there I was, in their receiving area with people coming in and out being interviewed in one of the coffee-bean-like chairs. OUT IN THE OPEN. NOT in the conference room. But in a common area. Where people are. Period.

The interview lasted for a few minutes. Shorter than expected. Lousier than anything bad combined. No comparison to any of the interviews I have had. And that was it. It all happened in their common area. It will all end there. I would never go back to that pit again. Ever.



*****
Lesson learned : Not all pretty women are women. Some are homos. Some are lesbos. Some are just pretty men but not homos. So relate that to this experience.

The sound of the phone ringing, music to my ears.

I have not had much sleep today. When I got home this morning with my Max' one whole chicken to go order, I had my meal "microwaved" just so I can have my breakfast meal the soonest possible time. I work from nine to eight. It's from pm to am. Not the other way around. AND IT'S TIRING. So you can imagine how my life is during the day. And you get my point.

Right after my meal, I washed my face, had my teeth brushed and prepared my bed a.k.a couch in the living room since there is a huge possibility that I won't get up if I sleep in my room, for a well-deserved peace and quiet time after a hard night's work (emphasis on the night word, please). I always leave the TV on and program it to turn off after thirty minutes. It is somewhat my lullaby now lately.

So there I was on the couch, enjoying my serene and tranquil moment when the phone rang that disrupted the only thing that makes me happy these days - sleeping. One ring. Completely ignored it. Second ring. Didn't mind it. And then on the third and the nth ring, I was pretty much all grim and ready to pull the phone cords out of the wall. Thankfully, the caller somewhat felt that it was pointless since nobody was answering. Literal translation, nobody's home!!! That should deliver the message. But no! After some hours, the phone rang again. And this is no joke. I was sleeping. And sleeping = me happy. It's like seeing a dancing banana man mascot to Shakira's Hips Don't Lie song. But no! I got interrupted again. This better be a real call for me and not some silly prank or a nobody dialling the wrong number. Otherwise, I would totally wreck the couch.

Thank God, it was for me. But still I was unhappy. Sleeping = me happy. This disrupted my sleep and since I was up already, might as well answer the damn thing. The call was for me indeed and some freaky man answered the call. He was looking for me. It was me who answered the phone. I confirmed my identity. But still, he was looking for me. Or maybe I just sounded so gorgeous over the phone with my bedroom voice. Still, how much does it take to actually buy a brain in black market these days?

After a few minutes of conversation, the turmoil has subsided. Or so I thought. I then again got a phone call from my sister inviting me to do the grocery with her because she got this eerie feeling that it was my off again. And guess what, not gonna happen. I don't run the company. I work for it.

The next thing I heard was my cellphone alarming. I didn't wake up. Logical reason, not much sleep. I have been bugged so many times the least it could do was shut up and let me be. I was planning to not go to work but due to my golden heart and dedication to my job (loser, I know) I went for work.

Here I am, palpitating and the only thing that keeps me awake is friendster. Getting thru the day with so much caffeine in my system. My heart doing overtime. With eyebags circling my oh-so-perfect black eyes and curly lashes. Good thing I look good today. Better than usual. Perfect like a god. (Giggles)

(Smiles) (And giggles again) ...

VIP Ticket to Hell

Working in the call center industry is like working for Satan's father. First, they'll lure you with money. Then, they bombard you with phone calls. And after that, you'd be dead for phone calls right before you know it.

Call center is fun. Yeah. For the first few months. It's fun when you seldom get irate calls from people you don't even know. Solve their problem everyday. And the least that they could do is say "thank you" which they find difficult to say. Talk about etiquette.

Come to think of it, the pay is very well worth it for the job that we do. Nobody has ever been paid this less as "Professional Shock Absorbers". The last time I checked, psychologists and psychiatrists are paid by the hour and are paid real money by just talking to their patients, big time. I never ever looked at it that way. Oh gosh, we are so lucky (in monotone). Then sighs. Yipee! (Again, in monotone).

AND OH MY GOD, our benefits. I can't wait to talk about them...

Since we, people are considered to be the highest paid individuals for an entry-level position, we are the targets of the hungry, deranged and money hooker predators who hide in the likes of robbers, snatchers and crazy bad-ass out there. People that like to leech and not flex a muscle since they find it more tedious than just plain terrorizing and targeting the poor, the nocturnal and the sleep-hungry "us" for money. And what do they give us in return? Well, NIGHT DIFFERENTIAL that ranges from 10%-30% of your salary. And that's just like saying, Come to work and I'll give you a lollipop! So rewarding. That makes me come to work eagerly everyday, risk my life, weather the storm and fingers crossed, not end up dead in a dark nook in some cheap alleyway. And not to mention the transporation allowance and the meal allowance to make up for the shortcomings of the job. That makes me feeeel so important.

Hospitalization is included, too since there's a higher risk of being stabbed, ran over and being admitted in ICU. But for just P100, 000, why not, huh? Some companies have higher medical insurances. It just depends. But for us, it's just a hundred gran and if you're lucky, the services are reimbursable.

In the call center industry, culture is another thing. It seems that it has a life of its own. It just continues to grow and evolve into something that has this huge impact to the ciruit of people in the business. You'd learn to smoke cigarettes. First, a stick til you reach your one pack per day limit. But of course, I am not speaking for myself. I am speaking for the majority. Smoking while hanging out in Starbucks. Spending all the money, money for multiple coffee breaks to keep the eyes open for the day, or the entire night.

Talk about sex-hungry people as well. Married men act as single men and as for women, mmmn, yeah they do the same. At least some of them. It starts with flirting. Oh yes, flirting is the name. Sex is the game. They act as if casual sex is just like eating pancakes in the morning. A part of a daily regimen, like brushing the teeth and peeing. Maybe because of deprivation. Also because of the smothering testosterone and estrogen level in the air. You know men. Men like to mark their territories - rubbing their pheromones all around the globe. No wonder Darwin concluded that we came from apes. Sex hungry apes, polygamous animals. Sheesh.

I hate to spoil your smiles and your laughs while reading this blog entry since I know a lot of you relate to this one way or the other. Whether you admit it or not. You know who you are. I guess the point is, we have to deal with toxic bosses everyday, the evolution of culture and the vicious lifestyle. I think the survival tip is just knowing where you stand so you won't get consumed by it. Otherwise, you'll be earning a VIP Ticket to hell just like that.

WRITERS

My friend used to say, "If you're creative enough, you can absolutely write anything under the sun". All the while I happenned to believe that friend of mine, until I realize that not everyday is sunshine day, especially if you're in Alaska. And I find it hard to believe - the things that my friend is telling me since THAT friend is ME. Weird. I know. Narcissistic even to some point. But I can't help it. I SO LOVE MYSELF.

So let me start again. I used to say, "If you're creative enough, you can absolutely write anything under the sun". All the while I happenned to believe myself, until I realize that not everyday is sunshine day. (Psycho, I know. But just play along) Well, there maybe a gazillion topics to write about - all good things about myself (ahem!!!), a lot of people to lambaste, the putrid smell of the slums, the oil spill in Guimaras, the fashion slips of stars and co-workers and the list goes on, but there are just quite a few topics that just run in your head worthy of your writing.

There are frustrating times when you try your best to squeeze and juice out creative juices from your oh-so-precious brain cells. But no matter how hard you make an effort to write a sentence, it just won't come out right. It just won't come out with substance.

Writers to some extent in their lives reach their saturation point. And in order to be reincarnated, they needed to go sabbatical to refresh their so-called imagination and feel the urge to write again like a sweet child who just discovered the wonders of porn and masturbation. And gees, I ryhmed. Imagination and masturbation. Nice.

And since I don't consider myself a writer (or am I?) and somebody that DOES not write novels and short stories, I therefore conclude that it would be impossible to run out of ideas. I hope. There maybe times that I feel so lazy writing something at home since my PC is like the rendez-vous of 900-something trojan viruses - all kinds of it. I so need a laptop. But up til such time comes when I can afford it, I have to make do using our company's PC, hihihi. What do you have to say about that, huh?

My Eureka Moment

1. Love yourself.

Saying "I love you" to oneself is a manifestation of self-preservation. It's a way to value one's own worth. It is never considered a narcissism. Loving one's self is loving and rediscovering what you can do. Discover your fullest potential. Give time to pamper yourself and admire yourself in the mirror. BUT NOT TOO MUCH. Learn to appreciate your flaws. Hone your talents. Rediscover your gifts. Embrace yourself. Once you find yourself, that's the time that you can impart smiles to others. Share love to others, unconditionally.


2. People bring you down.

So what. People always have something to say about you. Whether you're overweight because you have lots of money to pay for cappucinos and lattes or underweight because you have a pack of ciggies for breakfast, lunch and dinner, people would always find a way to scrutinize you. Scorn you. Make you feel inferior. Whether it's acne, bushy eyebrows, curly hair, protruding eyes, flat nose and flat chests, they are reinforced by prejudices and biases. People would find ways to make you seek refuge in the black hole inside of you. They would bring you down. Make your heart beat faster. Make you not look in the mirror anymore and start crying in your closet for scorns that take time to heal and recover.
Everyone has their secrets. We all have flaws. Successful people have managed to channel these inferiorities as driving forces to success. So what if you're fat. So what if you're underweight. So what if you're zit-faced. So what if you're a midget. These are just words of the insensitives, whose opinions are detrimental to anything good put together by saints and angels.


3. Trust Issues. Know your friend. Know your enemies.

Juveniles often interchange the word acquaintance and friendship. People we meet often are regarded as friends. But are they really? You barely know the person. You barely know his/her background. Were you there when his father got rushed in the hospital due to a heart attack? Was s/he you considered friend cried with you and laughed with you during the highs and the lows of your life. Do you remember his or her weak spot? Do you ever know why s/he fidgets around whenever s/he gets around a person he regards as a long time friend? Does s/he ever love you? Does s/he shows his/her concern to you when you get bed-ridden? Friends stick together. Acquaintances stick together when the world keeps on revolving. Friends are friends even when the world falls apart. Even when earthquakes consume the ground. Or tsunamis drench and crush cities. Friends are your sunrise and your sunset. Acquaintances are drizzles. Acquaintances are the aftershocks. The waves and the ripples you picture in the sea. The mirage in the desert. That what makes one different from the other.

The Devil Wears Prada

During the course of our life in the corporate world, we do encounter real Miranda Priestly (the toxic boss in The Devil Wears Prada) in the workplace. If you're lucky and if you smell the toxic boss from afar, then you are considered the privileged child of God. But if you are the dumbfounded and innocent employee who just can't seem to read the cues posted on your co-workers tortured-faces, then goodluck to you. You are up for the biggest challenge of your life.

It happens in all kinds of industries. This happens in companies known to man that have this smell of terror, threat to control, colossal issues of power and rubbing elbows with the known and the most successful. And yeah, this would be very common in the dog-eat-dog-world of the publishing industry and in the fashion world, too, where people stab each other in the back multiple times til it becomes a bloodbath.

Working in the magazine industry is so fulfilling. It takes so much work to complete a single issue but everything is all worth it once you see the final product. It takes a lot of closed-door meetings, fashion shoots here and there and a LOT of walking, running and sometimes tumbles along the way in accomplishing the tasks assigned to you. Rush is the game and the adrenaline rush is just so consuming. I actually miss it. A LOT.

The movie made my eyes open some more. It made me see through the eyes of the characters. It has been a dream of mine to still pursue a career in the magazine business. I like the pace. I like the rush. I like seeing the end result of my assignment. But apart from all of these factors, I ask myself questions. Do I have what it takes to survive? Do I have the gutts to swim in a shark-infested pool with nobody to turn to? Can I backstab people and participate in a bloodbath for a step ahead in my career? Will I tolerate such barbaric behavior? Will I get lost in the dark? Will my flame flicker or die out eventually? I guess I will never know if I don't give it a shot again. Knowing myself and what my heart beats for, I know I'll get there. Somehow. In one piece. The way I know how. My way. No matter how steep the path is. I'll get there.

For every journey, there is always a beginning. AND THAT is the hardest and the most crucial part. Finding yourself. Picking up the pieces and glueing them together. I have to initially immersed myself again in the business. And be in the business. All I need now is perfect timing and after that, it's all good.

Enlighten me, please.

These questions have long bugged my head for hours now. It has just been now that I am able to construct my thoughts and reword my questions in a way that they won't be as offensive to conservatists as they don't often hear the terms as we do in everyday living. But no matter how simple or how discreet I arrange my words, they simply just sound rubbish to these people. So read my disclaimer at the bottom.

On to my questions. Why is blowjob the term used to refer to sucking men's privies? When and what word did it originate from? We refer to blow as a verb or a noun. When used it blow a candle, and it would be defined according to m-w.com as "to eject moisture-laden air from the lungs through the blowhole" or to pertain to something that would explode or erupt among other meanings. But to refer it to THAT is quite preposterous. It is quite obvious that it's not the act of blowing. The word job I would understand since it's something "that needs to be done". But blow + job = sucking men's privies is such quite an amazement. Seriously, why is it called blowjob? If it has been termed as "LOLLIPOP", it would have made much more sense since having a lollipop inside the mouth is much more the same motion as sucking that darn stupid thing! Damn it!

Another question. Why are private organs termed as pussy for women and cock for men? A cat never resembles a vagina. A flower is even way over the top. A bean sprout would have been better. Vaginas don't have canines. I think. And cocks are better termed as tongue-less one-eyed snakes. A cock is a rooster. Roosters have beaks. Cocks secrete and splurge white, opaque liquids called semen - a very deadly weapon for genocide. :) And what's up with all the names and all the euphimisms. Can't two just be termed as concrete terms for easier recognition? You can't describe a cock or a vagina to a blind woman or man, since they have not seen a snake and a flower just yet. Sheesh...Too many terms to remember... Absurd.

Last question. Sex is referred to fuck. Suck is refered to an alternative fucking. Cock is referred to penis. Cunt is referred to vagina. Is it safe to conclude that anything that sounds or rhymes the same would refer to sexual activities? Like for instance, fuck-suck-cock-fuck-cunt and pick-lick-or-fuck-by-dick-that-goes-to-cunt. Think about it. They all just sound the same to me. Okay, maybe my examples are not perfect. But hey, there's no harm in trying!




***DISCLAIMER***
Not suitable for conservatists. Keep out. Extremely offensive. (DUH!)

BRAIN CELLS UNDER CONSTRUCTION

There are just times that you don't feel coming to work at all. Often times, we feel braindead. I feel braindead. For some reason, my little brain cells are not in the mood to function. And it is a fact.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I don't know what it is today that my body just doesn't seem to cooperate with my head, I mean the real head. I have had my regular sleeping hours, which is about 5 or 6 hours at the most and these past weeks, I am happy with that. And since normal people (the category that I don't belong with anymore) get an average of 7, 8 or more hours of sleep, I just try to make up for it during weekends. I am a loser, I know. I have no life. Thank you very much for reminding me.

I woke up like a dude that got overdosed with liquid meth and vodka, both taken together less the hangover. I was so disoriented, and when the lights were on, I looked exactly like a shrimp that has been boiled twice in champagne. I think the better description would be a buffed dude dressed in drag with net stockings and stilletoes reinforced with horrible make up and the style exactly like Marilyn Manson. (At least you get a better picture!) I was a total wreck. And after everything, after taking a bath and after grooming, off I went to work.

Everything was so off when I left the house and the only thing that kept my heart pumping would be this cutie I saw on my way to work, hihi. He was going to Makati, too. Too bad he got off earlier but he nevertheless made up my night, at least for some time. (Sighs) Was that cutie single? Too bad I forgot to establish rapport and get the number like what I always do with my customers over the phone. (Sighs, again)

Gees, this is a concrete and absolute proof that my brain cells are under deep reconstruction and reconditioning today. My poor babies. They are slowly dying because of my abnormal schedule.

So lesson learned about this experience - when the going gets tough and your brain cells are in coma, a cutie will keep you going!!!

HAVAIANAS - Perfect for my flawless feet

I spent a relatively amount of my time thinking if I would envision myself and eventually be drawn to wearing havaianas in the future. I mean, I know what that was since I was one of the people who kind of advertised that in a magazine I used to work for back in March or April of 2006. And yeah, the colors that vary from simple to flamboyant and the designs just are irresistably mouth-watering. But if you think of the price, well I am all mute there.

It turned out that this rubber craze had started way, way back in 1962 and got its inspiration from a Zori, a japanese style sandal. Well, that's all I know. On how or what it looks like before, that's way out of my league. Anyways, It was just recently that it got introduced here in the brownass land where everybody just seems to put it on a pedestal.

Regardless of how much havaianas are loved here, people seem to mispronounce it. We call it ha-vai-YAH-nas, when it should have been ah-vai-YAH-nas all along. Now talk about language and speech problems. Long live the Kapampangans!!! No pun intended.

I actually made up my mind of buying a pair. As a matter of fact, I will buy one soon once I find that perfect pair destined for my feet with no calluses. As they say, when you put your mind into something, you'll succeed. And my mind is set already. In fact, I see myself in my dreams wearing trendy and soft rubbered havaianas while going to the mall, beach or even work during dressdown days. Sweet. That's just sweet.

BACK to BASICS

It would have been nice to get back to basics these days now that everything has been gauged and bought by money. It is so nice to enjoy the free things in life, which are STILL considered to be the best pleasures it can offer. It is always refreshing to enjoy the long walks again with tree shades covering the pavement with leaves dropping from these old living things.

When was the last time that we bathe in the rain? When was the time that we tried to relive the games we used to play when we were kids? When did we start laughing at silly things again?

If only we can relive the golden moments of the past and somehow stop time, we would not have been so overly occupied with the hassles of our busy life trying to worry about what we would wear for tomorrow for work or how much we would earn from working overtime.

It is so nice to go back to basics when everything was not corrupted and just plain simple. When people were genuinely sincere and honest. When neighbors were treated as family. When favors were just favors and not accepting anything in return. When everything was all good and not complicated.

Those were the days.

Greedy Capitalists + Existent Elitists = Satan Incarnates on Earth

There are just people born out of lavish lifestyle without exerting any effort at all. Thanks to Carl Marx and his theory and to other philosophers who educated mankind to take advantage of the inequities of life and the infamous greed for power, people are born with attached social hierarchy and social discrimination.

Lucky are the children who came from rich families. Luckier are those born with business tycoon parents, leaving them nothing but a choice to do and live the life they want. They do whatever pleases them. Their fat wallets are filled with paper bills made for carefree spending - either splurge or impulsive shopping of the most expensive nail polish to the diamond embellished trinkets. Their tummies are served with the finest hors d'oeuvre for appetizers, expensive champagnes and wines for liquors, sumptious entrees for main dishes and luscious and only the finest of all desserts, anytime they want.

They enroll themselves in any hobby they could think of and when they want to learn it depending on the pace they like, too - from polo to golf, from ballet to figure skating, cooking to baking, etcetera. They manage to afford the best hair treatments, best facials and best cosmetic surgeons in town, and even the most extensive manicurists and pedicurists (like there's such a thing!).

Sadly, such a small percentage can do such things. These would pertain to the favorite children of God belonging to affluent families. They work hard, yes. Or MAYBE NOT! They must have inherited an extremely offensive amount of money that only God knows how to count. They probably had their share of sleeping with a lot a paperwork underneath their butts at some point in their lives but not as much work compared to employees that are overworked but underpaid because of no available capital to start their own business.

So, I thererfore conclude that greedy capitalists are the type that get the most money in the end - dead or alive.

Job Invitation...

Just yesterday, I got this sms message from the company I submitted my resume a long, long time ago for a job interview. It was weird that they contacted this late and due to common courtesy, I replied and confirmed that I would come to be interviewed.

Right after my log out time, I didn't even bother to wave goodbye to colleagues and silently made my graceful exit. I was minutes late for my appointment. I needed to clash with somebody from the escalation department because he was giving me wrong instructions.

On to my point. I arrived there and was immediately given a sixty-item grammatical exam which I did not mind. Right after that, I waited and seated on one of the mediocre chairs provided. Then I waited. And waited again. Til my eyes were droopy I couldn't stand it anymore that I had my catnap.

Somebody called my name, I think it was the receptionist. She was goodlooking but didn't have the mmmf factor. Didn't have a butt to begin with, like a dough that underwent the power of the rolling pin. Anyways, I was called in to sit with the interviewer.

And there goes the power / miss universe questions. How the hell do HR people rephrase or reword "Tell me something about yourself". How do I even market myself? It's like dealing with Satan. Building yourself up with a total stranger who might perceive as somewhat retarded is totally not my turf. And for someone like me who prefers silent confidence over bragging my accomplishments written on a marble tablet is totally absurd. I don't get the point of bragging something that is evidenced by a resume. That's just totally pharisaical.

So there I was being interviewed by a total stranger baring my soul to her. Giving her details about my career and my interests while she converses with her friends thru yahoo messenger. How professional. And check this out, I was applying as a Profile Writer. And as such, I have the option to write for companies AND the OPTION to write for adult material sites a.k.a. PORN SITES for US-based companies. More of like Carrie Bradshaw with BALLS, luring poor souls to sign up for the website of flesh eating and money eating industry. I have yet to think about it.
It's either I become a pure self-satisfying, juvenile-corruptor writing all hanky-panky stories and erotic stories for people who get money from masturbators and net browsers OR be like Carrie Bradshaw with BALLS talking about erotic stories with substance, be famous, be a S-T-A-R and live a Sex and the City lifestyle!!!

L.I.F.E.

People always think of all the possible things in the world. I still remember when I was a kid, I would always think of the most absurd and most unattainable "wanna-be-jobs" I wanted to become in the future. There even came to a point that I wanted to be the President, but that's just way over the top. I don't intend to run a country of corruptors, liars and people who like to play games of deceit all the time. And then I wanted to be a doctor to save lives. After that an astronaut to discover things in space and the like. You name it, I envisioned myself almost in every famous job I could think of in their respective trademark clothes. Money never became an object. Kids were so pure and innocent. Even me, hehe.

Here I am now, kind of in between jobs and hanging in limbo thinking of what I want to become. The stage of becoming the president, doctor, astronaut is so way overdue. It have started embarking on a new journey. A new chapter of life where money speaks louder than heartfelt care and humanity have long been buried in dirt like spoils of war.

Facing the cruel and cold world where selfishness touches the skin like the air that we breathe is definitely overwhelming. Everybody looks for themselves. There may be friends around to help out a bit but it all boils down to you looking out for yourself, watching your own back. Having that said, I think it is just right to safely say to follow your heart.

Life begins when one decides to live it. Make decisions for your own sake without excess baggage. Life begins when one grows up, smiles at mistakes, move on, learn from them and to not hopefully make them again in the future. Don't just wake up one day regretting the things that you might have done. Live the way you want but live the way you know how.