I figured I owe this blog an apology for not updating it for awhile. But everthing, for the past months, has been against the clock because of work. Which brings me to wonder: how the hell are you doing it, Zet Diaz? You still blog like it’s 2003.
They’ve all pulled the plug. Pam Pastor. Utak Gago. Even Carina Santos doesn’t blog as often as she used to. But you, you are still here. Kudos, you’re the last man standing.
And I’m glad you are.
I finished reading TFIOS today. I know, I should’ve a long time ago. But I never picked up a copy, I was never a big John Green fan. It was okay. A good read, yeah, but I was more interested in reading An Imperial Affliction.
And TFIOS is the only novel I’ve read this 2014 so far. It’s a blow to the ego, and I don’t even understand why because it’s not like it takes special talent to read books. I don’t know what happened! But it happened. It happens.
I don’t know what this blog’s point exactly. I’ll stop here; boss is around while I type this. How are all you guys doing?
I watched him walk away, first thinking: good riddance—who needs this abuse? And then after a minute thinking: he never really understood me anyway. Which rapidly changed to: I never understood him at all. And before long I was watching his small back disappear and thinking: there goes the only person who ever gave a damn about me.
Three in the morning overtime at the office. I figured I’d say hi before break’s over and I head back to the conference room. I miss blogging. I miss my old life. I miss my room. My mom. My book shelves. Not waking up early and not rushing to work.
I got what I have been working hard for for weeks tonight and you would have been the first to know had I not been such a jerk for cutting you off like that. Now I don’t even get to talk to you. I see you online on Facebook and you’re still on the top of my friends list on chat. Maybe letting you go is all for the right reasons. I don’t wanna put you on a leash when you could spend your time meeting other people instead of waiting for me. I’m not saying goodbye; you don’t like goodbyes. I’ll be sleeping tonight and the next nights without receiving a goodnight kiss from you, but maybe, like what Penelope Cruz said in Vanilla Sky, maybe in another life when we are both cats.
The degree I took back in my University days is neither here nor there to the job I have now. Gone are the days of photojournalism and creative writing. My photos are now limited to drunken night sessions with co-workers, and my literature to a one-sentence Facebook status. Instead of a teacher’s table, I now sit in a cubicle, squinting my eyes on the computer screen and my hands tapping the keys faster than replying to my crush’s message on chat. And while my batch mates write their lesson plans at night I sip on my coffee about to start my day…at eleven in the evening. I’d chosen a different route, with me basically doing the same thing every day—a routine—for a year which takes me to a point I get so worn-out and make a bad practice of looking at my life and creating an I-should-have-done-this-and-done-that list in my head.