Return to Nowhere
Book in Hand: Seduced by Moonlight (and it doesn't make much sense)
Song in Mind: Run by Kitchie Nadal
Word in Mouth: Oh, Sugar!
Sorry. Really sorry. My Dad just got out of the hospital yesterday, and I've been staying with him since last Sunday as watcher. That's why I haven't written much lately. Now that he's out, we're back to the same routine and here I am, early for work again. And I'm swamped with work. Up to my neck-full of shiat. Work-Life Balance isn't really a very easy thing to do. Hay.
But today is friday. And no matter how much work needs to be done, and even if I actually have to go back tomorrow to finish everything, I'm still in a good mood. Friday is friday is friday. =P
Nway, I was browsing through some other blogs lately and I realized how utterly, aherm, boring, mine is. Some blogs are so full of colorful words (and I don't mean yellow and pink) and angst and anger and --- and --- mine is so, well, me. I can't really help but be wholesome. Maybe that's why I'm never going to be a writer, I don't have enough anger to fuel my words and make them sizzle like lard on a hot plate. I could write about rainbows and how pretty the stars are, but the world seems to have this bias against anything sweet and nice. Like it it's just shit because life's shit. Some people would say that I can't say anything edgy because I refuse to be myself. Really? Sometimes I think that. But fuck it if by saying fuck that's supposed to mean I'm being true to myself. (oh, now, there's the anger)
Yep, the world is full of biatches and dickheads and morons and imbeciles, but every single one of them are just human beings who are just as lost as I am. I get angry and I blow my top, but I let it go as soon as I could. Not because life is short, who cares about that, but because it's to exhausting to carry stuff around. I am lazy by nature, spurned to action only if I am extremely bored, and the good thing about that is I leave my baggages where they are. There were times, when I'm being immature or just plain mean, I went back to the baggages and hurled them back at people. But that happens twice in a decade. And only because some people seem utterly comfortable lugging their tonnage right along with them. Im fat and heavy enough as I am. I don't need anything else to slow me down.
Hay. There. That's out. I can return to peachy-kins Livvy-dearest again. The roly-poly, good-natured sweet-toothed fairy-dairy everyone seems to like.
Oh my God, I feel like crying. I am trapped, ain't I?
Song in Mind: Run by Kitchie Nadal
Word in Mouth: Oh, Sugar!
Sorry. Really sorry. My Dad just got out of the hospital yesterday, and I've been staying with him since last Sunday as watcher. That's why I haven't written much lately. Now that he's out, we're back to the same routine and here I am, early for work again. And I'm swamped with work. Up to my neck-full of shiat. Work-Life Balance isn't really a very easy thing to do. Hay.
But today is friday. And no matter how much work needs to be done, and even if I actually have to go back tomorrow to finish everything, I'm still in a good mood. Friday is friday is friday. =P
Nway, I was browsing through some other blogs lately and I realized how utterly, aherm, boring, mine is. Some blogs are so full of colorful words (and I don't mean yellow and pink) and angst and anger and --- and --- mine is so, well, me. I can't really help but be wholesome. Maybe that's why I'm never going to be a writer, I don't have enough anger to fuel my words and make them sizzle like lard on a hot plate. I could write about rainbows and how pretty the stars are, but the world seems to have this bias against anything sweet and nice. Like it it's just shit because life's shit. Some people would say that I can't say anything edgy because I refuse to be myself. Really? Sometimes I think that. But fuck it if by saying fuck that's supposed to mean I'm being true to myself. (oh, now, there's the anger)
Yep, the world is full of biatches and dickheads and morons and imbeciles, but every single one of them are just human beings who are just as lost as I am. I get angry and I blow my top, but I let it go as soon as I could. Not because life is short, who cares about that, but because it's to exhausting to carry stuff around. I am lazy by nature, spurned to action only if I am extremely bored, and the good thing about that is I leave my baggages where they are. There were times, when I'm being immature or just plain mean, I went back to the baggages and hurled them back at people. But that happens twice in a decade. And only because some people seem utterly comfortable lugging their tonnage right along with them. Im fat and heavy enough as I am. I don't need anything else to slow me down.
Hay. There. That's out. I can return to peachy-kins Livvy-dearest again. The roly-poly, good-natured sweet-toothed fairy-dairy everyone seems to like.
Oh my God, I feel like crying. I am trapped, ain't I?
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