Sunday, October 28, 2007
the working girl
And so, I have been working. I have so much to say about it but so much of what I have to say is not fit for public consumption. I have this fear of writing about work. I've seen so many people get in trouble because their bosses or co-workers found their secret blogs and read all these nasty things written about them. Not that I have anything nasty to say about anyone at work, I just want to respect their privacy, that's all. Not all of them would appreciate having their identities or photos plastered all over the net.
I also do not want to divulge where I am working, also for privacy's sake, though it will be painfully obvious once I actually start talking about it.
So far, it's been fun. Stressful and tiring at times, but fun overall. I enjoy all the interaction with folks of different strokes. Between this, and the data entry job I used to have, I would pick this any day. I seriously think that towards the end of that last job, I was languishing in that office, dying from lack of interaction, and growing heavy-hearted with the stagnant energy in that little room with 3 computers and 4 filing cabinets. And to think I only had to work once a week. I always did my best, but I've learned that you can't make yourself like something you really don't.
So, back to the new job! Despite the stress and the pressure, I feel like I'm alive and breathing in this job. Thank God! Still perfecting the coffee-making part, and have only steamed milk perfectly twice. Most of the time, I make the milk a tad too frothy, when the texture should be like silk. Silky milk. I generally get my frappuccinos right most of the time, though (ah, now that's a dead give-away of where I work).
But with all honesty, the best part of my job are the people I work with. It's a good sign when there are co-workers you look forward to seeing.
So, that's me, Ala the working girl. And if you've got a REALLY good idea of where I work, you should pop in on me sometime. (I'm not telling.)i need a hero
I was so angry over the news of Erap's pardon the other night. Angry enough for the phrase "I hate that stupid country" to come up spontaneously in my head, even though "hate" and "stupid" are two words I don't really want to use in association with the Philippines. But at that moment, I just lost it, and I thought thoughts I didn't want to think.
When Erap was convicted, there was a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, there could still be justice in a place where the bad people always get away with their pockets loaded. But the spark was just a spark in the night, nothing more.
Even though she cheated, I still believed and had faith in our president just a bit. She was smart, could maybe make our economy progress despite her shortcomings, and even though she was disliked, I still couldn't think of any one else who could possibly take her place. I guess my faith was just a spark in the night as well.
I was asking my dad last night if Philippine leadership has always been built on a foundation of skewed morality. Was there ever a time when we had real leaders? When leaders where people we admired and respected? Why doesn't anything ever work the way they should? Can we just tear the entire wretched structure down and rebuild completely from scratch.
But in my sadness and anger, I also questioned if myself I ever contributed to the "corruption mentality" that plagues our country, if I myself was ever a player even in the most minute way. Did I follow the law? Did I practice justice in my own way? Did I choose integrity?
One thing I now regret doing is getting my driver's license the easy way. I took the written test, but not the practical test, and skipped the rest of the process through "connections, connections" in the LTO, men whose faces I don't even remember. I was of legal age, and had come fresh from driving school, so at least I really did know how to drive and could rightfully carry the responsibility of taking a vehicle unto the road. But still, I should have done it all the proper way, the right way, for rightness's sake. I should have lawfully followed the correct procedures. Who am I to act as if I am excluded from the same procedures everyone else must go through?
I now regret it, because although it may seem like an insignificant incident, the mentality behind it, however in it's beginning stages it may be, is the same mentality behind much of the injustice in our country. We may feel that we're just one of the many insignificant commoners in the system and that one more little dishonest incident, like bribing police officers, is not enough to tip the scales. But there are no insignificant players in the system. Who was it who said "Thoughts become words, words become actions, actions become habits, habits become character, character becomes destiny."
I don't want to seem like one of those Pinoys who migrated overseas and who compare and gloat about how much better things are over here. But let me tell you that one thing I admire about this place is that even the Prime Minister gets fined for breaking road laws. He was actually fined last year for riding in his ministerial car and waving to the cameras... without a seatbelt on. The law, even seemingly 'insignificant' seatbelt laws, is taken seriously here, and are not merely "optional". The laws for common people are the same laws used on their leaders. No one is excluded.
But the truly tragic thing about the Philippines is that those who do practice honesty and justice get crushed under the wheels of the system. How do you survive in a country where everybody cheats? Heck, police officers ask to be bribed! If you don't cheat the system, it'll cheat you! But sometimes I wonder if that's just the excuse everyone uses to justify the times they choose easy-way-out injustice. Is justice not worth standing up for anymore? Is that the kind of place I grew up in? How did it affect my character?
And will I ever live to see a real leader?an out of body experience out in stores
The Out of Body Special's second video for the song "Soundcheck". I love this video! It's got a great old-skool vibe, a house party, a hip-hop group, break dancers, and un-slutty girl-dancers. And of course, my lovey-dove can be seen playing bass in it (he is wearing a red and whie jacket that he does not own, haha)
Also, The OUT OF BODY SPECIAL debut album is finally out!!! Grab a copy in music stores near you (in Manila, that is)!
It is truly a great album from start to finish, and not just because my lovey-dove plays bass on it. Even non hip-hoppers love it because it's got that live music element, guaranteed to please fans from a whole range of different genres.
This is a very talented band, I've been very excited for this album to come out, so go, go GO!!! Support OPM!fancy a cup of coffee with that?
Since I started working as a barista, I have developed a taste for strong, bold, brewed, black coffee. None of that milk and sugar stuff. I like to taste my coffee, thank you.
Naturally, I have also developed an obsession with coffee mugs, and decided to design my own special Ala-ism coffee mug that I can sip my brew from when I check my blog every morning, or when I'm writing at night. And hey, my site's been around long enough to merit it's own mug, right?
Like it?:-)Well, I do. And just in case you like it, too, it'll be on-sale at my online store very soon, along with a bunch of cool new stuff I'm in the process of adding. It's going to be the Christmas holidays soon and I've loads of great gift ideas. I've been designing, designing, designing, and can't wait to share all my up-coming creations.
I will keep everyone posted! And to those who have supported my store in the past, I hope my new stuff tantalizes you. ;-)
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Monday, October 22, 2007
au natural
Today was the sweetest day I've had in recent memory. I went on a date with myself to the beach, which is something I've never done on dates with myself. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and I got up early enough to catch the bus! I spent 2 hours of my day bathing in the sun in Sydney's Bronte beach, sketching my dream wedding dress, and reading Ben Okri's "Astonishing the Gods".
I also went for a swim in that nice, little enclosed area of the beach where the waves don't get very high. It was like swimming in a glass of ice water, and everytime I'd dunk my whole body in, I would feel my organs go into shock for a nano-second. After the shock, the cold would begin to feel like prickles all over my body, and then like kisses. But it was wonderful, and refreshing, and there's something about bathing in the ocean that washes away all the bad energy. It must be the salt (said to dispel negativity), or all the prana that is inherent in nature (I sound like a new-age weirdo here, but I believe in all that prana stuff). I love the ocean. I feel like I have a special relationship with it.
I got to eat at my favorite diner, Jenny's, and realized that it had been a whole year since I was last there! What a treat. I love dates with myself. Sometimes I think I'm naturally a loner.
At the end of the day, I had sea water in my tangled hair, and was a darker shade of bronze, which made me feel like a babe. I swear, the beach always does that to me. It is one of the only places where I feel so natural and happy to be in my own skin.
And... I finally gathered up the courage to sunbathe topless!!! Hahaha! I have always been envious of the way Aussie girls can just sunbathe bare-breasted like so. In the Philippines, only the European tourists do that, and boy do they get a lot of sniggers and whispers. No self-respecting Pinay in Pinas would sunbathe nude, EVER! A bikini is already considered risque by many modest, blushing Maria Claras. You go out topless on the beach, and you're asking for it. Not only will there be a jpeg image named after you on every one's celphone camera, but you will be the object of bad attention of those tambays who like to go "pssst".
So I come here and I find that not only do Aussie girls wear their bikinis, they own their goddamn bikinis. A Pinay will slip on a two-piece swimsuit and will never forget she's wearing one. An Aussie girl, even a 70-year old lola, wears a bikini like it's nothing. And on the beach, both young, supple-breasted maidens, and mature-age, saggy-chested grannies have no qualms about making sure their boobs are the same shade of bronze as the rest of their bodies- in public. And I do mean as public as a public place can get.
As for the men, they either don't care or pretend not to care (my guess is it's the latter). Generally, based on observation, it seems to be an unspoken code of honor that it is in bad taste for a member of the male sex to speak to/ look at/ pay attention to a female when she is sunbathing topless. You speak to her, and she'll scream "Pervert!" I've never actually seen this happen, but it seems to be the way things work.
So, back to me. I have always wondered what it was like to go topless on a public beach, ever since I saw those European women in Boracay playing in the waves with their mounds innocently hanging out. They were laughing and frolicking, and I remember envying their liberation, and their lack of shame in displaying something that was perfectly human and natural: breasts.
I remember telling myself years ago that I would do it one day at the right place, and the right time (meaning, not in the Philippines or in any place where I might run into any family members or guy friends). I never thought today would be the day. But there I was bathing in a ray of blissful sunshine, and tanning myself, when I thought why not?
It was Monday which meant the beach wasn't too crowded, and Bronte is known to be more of a family beach so there was less risk of some sleazy teenager gawking at me than say, in Bondi Beach. Also, I looked around at all the other topless women sprawled on their towels. One had huge breasts, as in JOGA, the kind you can't not stare at. Another pair of breasts I saw were wrinkly, and saggy. Then there was the woman strolling oh-so-casually along the shore with only her orange bikini-bottom on.
Funnily enough, one of my big worries about taking it off, aside from the possibility of attracting bad attention from sleaze-bags, was what if people found me, well, unattractive. Ah, body image issues, all women try hard not to have them. Women compare themselves to other women all the time. Was I ready to put my rack up against Ms. Joga's and all the other seemingly more beautiful breasts on the beach?
But then I thought, what the heck, no one here has any idea who I am, most of the men around me are with their wives and girlfriends (meaning, they won't dare stare at any other women), and if the lola can do it, so can I. So what if mine aren't the fairest of them all. They're me. In Australia, do as the Aussies do. And in a brave split second, I flipped over unto my back, and my little beauties saw the sun for the first time. Ahhhh.
And nobody cared. Not even the the tourist in the hat, sunnies, camera, and backpack walking past so much as stole a glance. I didn't know whether or not it was a good thing. Surely these babies must attract some attention? Tssss.
In the beginning I tried partially covering my face with my Ben Okri book, but after awhile, I figured it didn't matter. And after a few minutes more, I actually felt quite comfortable, and almost as if I had been doing it all my life.
And I'm glad I did it, not only because my tan is now even (with the exception of my buttocks, but I'm not about to expose that), and not only because I said I would one day, but also because it was a sort of exercise in self-acceptance and body image in a way. My body is my body, and it's just a body, nothing to be taken too seriously.
And that's the story for the day.
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Also, I made cupcakes
"Rock, Roll, Nin, Ala" Hahaha!I had to make do with the only letters we had left. We also made Mom, Mio, Mikey, Jim, 4ycs ('Aycs'), Dads ('dada'), and Bugee ('Boogie).
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Tuesday, October 16, 2007
my "manufacturer's defect"
Hey world, I am hearing impaired. Yes!!! Let me say it again! I am hearing impaired, meaning, partially deaf in the right ear, and a little less deaf in the left.
I've been like this for years, possibly since childhood. It runs in the family, and it is caused by damage to nerves in the ear, which means it is irrepairable and might've come from a virus I had when I was kid. This is the reason why I sometimes talk too loudly or too softly (I can't measure the volume of my voice), or sometimes maybe even ignore people completely (I may not know you are talking to me). It may also be the reason why I lisp, and also why i watch DVDs with the subtitles on.
No, I am not slow, or dim, or "out of it". Sometimes, I CAN'T HEAR YOU WHEN YOU TALK TO ME! I don't even know I when you're talking to me. Other times, I CAN HEAR YOU BUT I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT THE HECK YOU ARE SAYING! Please don't mumble.
I first found out I was hearing impaired when I went for a test when I was 17 with my 70 year old grandpa and found that he had better hearing than I did. I was prescribed a hearing aid, which I struggled with for a year before eventually ditching it because it was so uncomfortable and always made me feel like I was talking with my ears plugged up (try talking with your ears plugged... do you like hearing your voice so amplified inside your head when you speak? No? I'm not surprised.)
But before the tests confirmed I was mildly deaf, I had to deal with years of people treating me like I was slow/ dimwitted because I'd ask them to repeat what they were saying more than once, had to deal with being branded a space cadet or anti-social for being "hard to talk to", and probably being labeled as having with ADD by my teachers because I could never pay attention in class (it's hard to stay focused when your teacher's voice sounds so far away).
And all those years I really did wonder if there was something wrong with me, and being treated like an idiot by impatient strangers sort of took its toll on my confidence sometimes. I'd ask myself if I was stupid, or why I couldn't understand people.
People have no idea how much I would feel like shrinking growing up when, after asking someone to repeat himself more than three times, the person would give up on me in a very impatient or dismissive sort of way. I didn't know I had a condition yet then.
And the funny thing is, even if I know now that I have a hearing condition, it still makes me feel bad, anyway. Today, at work, I couldn't understand what a customer what saying even if I was leaning in to hear him (I hate mumblers!!! And mumblers with thick Aussie accents are the worst), and finally he laughed and said "never mind". And on several occasions, my coworkers were talking to me and I either couldn't understand them or didn't even know I was being asked to do something.
I know most people mean no harm (though occasionally, some of them really are quite mean). I know it isn't my fault, and I know I didn't choose to be hearing impaired, but situations like the one I just described still make me feel awful. Awful enough to start crying as soon as I get home and I'm all alone in my room. I wish I wasn't like this. I sometimes feel like I am some sort of weak link, like I'm some kind of handicap to the world, and I feel like I have to apologize for being born this way. If there was one physical thing I could correct about myself, it wouldn't be my nose, or my breasts, or anything beauty-related, it would be my hearing.
With friends and acquaintances, the handicap isn't so bad. The straightforward route works best. I tell them, please speak louder and don't mumble, I am slightly deaf. And with that out of the way, our relationship can progress normally.
But when you have a job that requires you to deal with dozens of people every day, you just can't tell every single one of your customers that you are hearing impaired. Most of the time, I do alright. When I have trouble hearing, I read lips. But some people, I just can't hear or understand.
That's the tough thing about it, it's not extreme enough to be considered a serious, honest-to-goodness handicap, but at the same time it's impact on my life has been huge and impossible to ignore. I can hear well enough to fake not having a hearing impairment, but I can't hear well enough to function as exactly and consistently as the rest of the normal people out there. And the fact is, I do need to exert extra effort to understand people.
Then again, there are some perks to having a hearing impairment. First of all, you can really tell who the nice people are based on how they treat a person with a weakness. Believe it or not, some people have treated me with less kindness or patience just because I didn't get what they were saying on the first or second try. I like to believe I am teaching the world to be tolerant of people with weakness, just by being my hearing-impaired self.
But if I could choose not to be this way, God knows I would in a heartbeat. God blessed me with height, enough looks, and a fair amount of talent in different areas, which is probably why he scrimped on the hearing (and the dancing ability, but that's another story).
So why am I writing this? Because I had several of those confidence-shattering moments today. And this is the first time I have ever, ever written about being hearing impaired. I suppose you can call it making a stand.
I am hearing impaired, and I'm okay. And even I have to make myself believe that.
And so, I have lived my life in total contradiction to everything I am. I've been a host who lisps, a hearing-impaired vocalist, a model with curly hair (which was completely against the norm back then), and a speed reader who didn't learn how to read till she was seven.trabaho
It's funny how I am working a regular job now. I've worked as talent all my life. I never had a set routine, or regular working hours, or a manager to report to, or a company to be loyal to (except for endorsements, but that's different). Also, till I moved to Aus, I never did work which required me to look plain. In the past, I've had jobs that required me to look pretty, or glamorous, or eye-catching, or silly, or even ugly and ridiculous... but never plain.
Now here I am working an average job, and wearing a uniform that makes me look plain. When I started, I actually had to do out and buy plain-looking clothes because I didn't own any.
Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying it. If there's one thing I've learned, I'm a thriver.
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Sunday, October 14, 2007
saturday mishaps and adventures
Me, Trish, and her lovely red shoes.
Trying to compete with the bikini waitress.
Help!!! Save me from this virile man! (I wonder of these guys have day jobs)
The past 2 days, I've allowed myself to do what I haven't done in ages: nothing! I haven't done nothing in so long.
Yesterday, I slept in, stayed in my PJs till 3, ate leftovers, and spent the first half of my lying in a patch of sunshine on my bed. Then I watched "Little Miss Sunshine", which now makes my favorite movies list.
I spent all week working hard. Felt good to zone out last Saturday, but also weird. I like feeling productive, and like I accomplished something, and I felt a bit guilty about not having that feeling last Saturday.
Anyway, at around 6 PM, I got dolled up and went to the train station because I had a boat party to catch. And I suppose that what happened to me at the train station is worth mentioning.
While I was running towards the ticket booth in my favorite slouchy gray boots, I slipped on someone's ice cream and flew forward.
First of all, let us make it clear that I am not exaggerating. I slipped on that damn ice cream, flew forward while sort of struggling to stay on my feet for about 4 seconds as I teetered forward and backward and while my feet slid around underneath me, all the while screaming, "woah, waaah, WOAH"... before finally landing on my hands and knees about 3-4 feet from where the ice cream was, and with my handbag about 3 feet away from me.
All of this happened to me while I was ALONE, in PUBLIC.
So there I was on my hands and knees, in my electric blue mini dress, fishnet stockings, and red lipstick, in a total daze... what the eff just happened? "Holy sh*t!", I said out loud and I stood up and dusted myself of, trying to preserve my last shred of dignity.
A female station guard approached me. "Excuse me miss, are you alright? It looks like you had a fall."
"Uh.. yeah. Sh*t."
And for the first time, it dawned on me to look around at all the amused strangers who had witnessed the accident, and look them in the eye, which was the least I could do to save face, right? Luckily, I have a very high embarrassment threshold. "Everyone see that?", I yelled theatrically... haha, I meant to do it on purpose. Not.
Another station guard came up, an old man this time. "Are you alright, missy? Are you injured?"
"Uh... not really... I guess." (My ego was pretty fractured).
"Does anything hurt?"
"No- I mean- yes. YES! My knee, oooh it hurts". (I figured it would be less humiliating if I actually got hurt from the accident, because then people would feel sorry for me instead of laughing at me).
"Which knee the left one or the right?"
"Both of them! Oooh, they're bruised."
"Can you do this?", asked the guard. "Bend your legs like this."
"I think so... oooh. That hurts. Ow."
Basically, the "manager" or "train station chief of operations" or whatever you call him got involved and the 3 of them started conferring amongst themselves over the cause of this unfortunate incident. I told them to clean up the ice cream, and they said they had written the incident down in the records and bla bla bla, to ensure it never happens again.
Whatever. AAAAGH!!!
Then I went to the boat party, got drunk, had pictures taken with bikini waitresses, and topless waiters (who were so beefed-up they looked like action figures), and had a blast.
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Friday, October 05, 2007
there's something about Ala
I got hit on 6 times yesterday. I got hit on from the moment I stepped out of my door. It was Saturday, and the last weekend before I'm an official working girl, so I wanted to spend some solo time sunning myself with a book on Bondi beach. I was in black, mini shirt dress, big glasses, a blue poncho, and had a big bag with my blanket, my sunscreen, and my book. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny morning.
I wasn't even out of my suburb yet. I was walking to the bus stop, when some guy in car wolf whistled at me. I've never been hit on in my own suburb so I was a bit surprised.
I was even more surprised when ten minutes later, as I waited at the bus stop, some guy in four-by-four pulled over in front of me. I thought he was going to ask me for directions but instead offered me a ride to the train station. I was a bit surprised and managed to stutter out a polite decline, but he started going out about how it was no big deal, he was going that way, anyway, and that I should just hop in. He wasn't an old sleaze, he was my age, and looked to be Indian, was actually quite good-looking, and had the smile of Bollywood leading man. But hell, there was no way I was about to hop into some stranger's jeep! So I declined, no, no, no over and over again, until finally, he left.
Wow, I thought, there must be something about me today. Barely ten minutes out of my door and I've gotten hit on by 2 men already. (I'm used to be being the invisible immigrant, see. )
Well, ten minutes later, the bus comes and the driver opens the door for me, gives me the look-over (but not in a sleazy way), chats me up a bit and... gives me 50% off on my ride. If I am not mistaken, taking the bus used to cost double the price, unless they altered the fees since the last time I rode the bus.
Five minutes later, a woman boards the bus, sees me, and says "Wow, you look really, really nice!"
"Uh... thanks!", I say shyly.
Wow, I thought, there is definitely something about me today. Was it the the dress?
Upon arrival station, I realize with extreme annoyance that my carefully planned schedule was about to be disrupted in a major way because the trains were broken!!! And we all had to board buses that would take us to a station 15 miles away where we could board the train. This, of course, set me back by an hour, but I consoled myself saying that I would still have about 4 hours to just laze around in the sand.
It was 3 hours later, when I finally arrived at Bondi station, that I realized with utter horror that the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The golden sunshine I had waited all day to bathe in was gone, and it was freezing cold and windy like it was signal number two! And while I was at Bondi station, I got hit on. I got a "Well, helloooo gorgeous" from some guy whose face I never saw.
Eager to make my grueling 3-hour trip count, I decided to grab a meal at a fish-and-chips place by the beach where a hobo sat down right beside me, stuffed his face with french fries, and afterwards asked me if I was going to eat all of mine. Binigay ko na.
Realizing it was pointless to hang around Bondi if it was too cold to even strip down to my swimsuit, I hopped on the bus and headed back to the train station. Sitting across from me was this French guy with a huge surfboard. His knees kept bumping into mine and it was awkward so I decided I'd talk to him to ease the awkwardness of the knee bumping). So I started bitching to him about how everything about my day had gone wrong when suddenly... the sun came out. Waaah! And as if things couldn't get any worse, the escalator at the train station broke down... while I was on it. I lurched forward and almost fell down a 15 foot incline.
So, I take the train to the city, and decide to kill time at Mcafe before meeting my friends for dinner. And while I'm ordering my latte- tadaaa!-I get hit on. By an old, Arabic man who kept trying to get my attention. And right when I was feeling that things really were beginning to get kind of crazy, I got a cheeky, little "beep" from a male driver while I was crossing the street.
Wow, I thought, there is definitely something about me today. Had I been touched by the mojo fairy without knowing it? Should I be happy or worried? It was all just very weird. Cool, but weird. I didn't really plan this.
And so, the night progresses. I meet up at Captain Torres (a Spanish restaurant) with a dozen friends, then we go out for drinks by Darling Harbour, and my friends point out that I seem to be attracting both male and female attention.
Wow, I though, I don't want this day to end. It was my lucky mojo day. Too bad I didn't run into any old boyfriends haha! It's physically impossible anyway because they're in other countries, but it was a wickedly entertaining though.
So... everything about my day went wrong, and all of my plans failed, but I got the most number of hits in a span of 24 hour hours in my life. How about that? There was something about me yesterday.
Maybe it was the dress, maybe it was the boots, or maybe it was because I've been feeling radiantly happy inside. Happiness has always worked more for me than make-up. That, and a short skirt hehehe.
I get home at 1am, tipsy from the champagne I drank, fall into a deep sleep, and dream that I'm hanging out with Deither Ocampo, even though I've never met him (very strange). Today was Sunday, and the whole day passed without anyone hitting on me.
Girlfriends, and me on the right in all my mojo-glory. Yeba.
Lasing na mata.the last one
My Sydney-based friend, Carlo Ledesma, who just won 1st place in "Cannes Short Film Corner" for his short film "The Haircut", is almost done editing his latest short film, "The Last One". If his name rings a bell, it's because he used to host the show "Game Plan". (He hates it when I make references to his semi-showbiz past. Sorry, Carl!) But he's been in Sydney the past few years honing his talent and making films.
For this latest one, he invited me to hop on-board the team and make the movie's concept art. And now that the film's trailer is out, I can finally promote it, and also show off the work I did for him.
You can see a bigger version of the concept art here. The trailer of the "The Last One", as well as all his other short films can all be viewed at allorangefilms.com.
I'm very excited to see how it turns out. So far, the treatment is beautiful, and Carl seems to have been working on this forever. Could another prize at Cannes be on its way? Hopefully! (So I can boast about my name being in the credits, yahoo!)happy happy happy
I'm a happy girl. I feel that in my journey as a migrant, I've come to a point where I realize I've been blessed with double of everything. I have a warm nest of good friends back home, and I have a warm nest of friends here. I can call two countries home. I have two lives, both of which are very different from each other but which I both love. I love the Philippines and I love Australia. And right now, I'm happy I'm here and I have no angst or unanswered questions about it.
New job starts tomorrow! I'm a working girl now. Would you like that in tall, grande, or venti?
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