Live pilot feed from work

I like to tell people that I think I'm averse to anything cool. April said of my new shoes, "I want to burn them," & of the polo shirts my tita bought me, "You have no sense of style." Point proven.

But this is being written live from the offices of an upstart creative think tank, buried in the far corner of a warehouse along Edsa where tens of sweaty workers run the machinery of a printing press shirtless.

Yes, this is the proverbial 1st-blog-entry-at-new-workplace. I'm writing it on the new MacBook my boss gave me; I am the only writer of the bunch, the only 1 who supposedly has to have his computer w/ him as I go about interviewing clients & conduct field research.

This is the coolest I'll ever be. (But my students think I'm charming; at least I got that going for me.) 

Around me, 4 artists play w/ their new widescreen Mac joints, throwing ideas around for rendering our maiden design project. I'm sitting here just waiting for my boss to drop by, to have him approve a story list I came up w/ for the project aforementioned.

After work I meet a student in Cubao for a consultation about 1 of her essays. Tomorrow morning I pick up my free copy of the magazine that interviewed me, & hopefully the checks for articles I wrote for them. Then my boss & I drive up to somewhere -- both w/ our laptops, only he wearing shades cuz I don't want to be cool -- to hopefully close another deal w/ another prospective client.

Somewhere in between those things, a short story of mine needs revising. And maybe dinner & some sleep.

This has been MV, live from work, signing out.