grub + travels + perspectives

Take Five.

Internal weather forecast: 
Same shit, different day.

I missed my internal monologues here. I remember way back, around 2004, I would write about how my day went, how pissed off I am with a friend, how I was stuck in 4-hour long traffic, and how I broke up with my now ex-boyfriend for the nth time. It's been almost a month since I posted something, and I have this itch again to redesign this thing. It's not that I have nothing to write -- believe me, I have this constant stream of thoughts that wants to get out, but it's just continuously floating inside my head right now -- lulls and waves, lulls and waves, lulls and waves. I wish I could somehow string my thoughts together and say what I really want to say.

My life recently consisted of going home to Cavite because it's been 9 days since we had an Internet connection (I'm looking at you PLDT Ultera) and I'm following it up everyday; numerous hours at work, strategically taking our breaks, so as not to spend more hours for overtime; 2-hour travel time to and from Ortigas; reruns of Grey's Anatomy's first and second seasons; and slumber for 5 hours tops (or 4 when I get to visit my goddaughter next door).

I am in no way complaining, I am not burned out, I am contented with how things are but I just want to write. It's like my mind is asleep. I need inspiration to rub off of on me.

I feel like seeing an old friend and asking, "Hey, how have you been?" and I want to write about it. I want to write about the little things. I want to write about the big things. I want to write about how my eyes will dart across the room because I haven't seen him in ages. And that little awkwardness after a hug, and I wait for it to settle. And how he'll light up a cigarette and look at me and ask the same thing, "Hey, how have you been?" And how I momentarily go through everything in my head to mentally check how different things were since the last time I saw him. And because, really, he's one of the few people that pushes and reminds me to write. 

I feel like cooking something I haven't tried before just to see if I can do it, doesn't matter if it ends up a disaster and inedible. Hahaha. And then write about it.

I feel like walking from my office to EDSA just because I want to see everything. And write about it.

I feel like going back to Intramuros and Lawton for the nostalgia. And write about it.

I feel like my mind's shuffling a million of tiny things and it all goes by so fast, I could not catch up.

I feel like... I don't know. I feel like I should be doing something but I end up lying down and staring at the blank walls half hoping that something encouraging would come of it. 

Tomorrow's forecast:
Yup, it would be absolutely the same as today. And you could only hope it would be a brand new story. Unless it's the end of the world, it's not that bad after all.

“Try not to base your decision on this room, it isn’t representative of the whole world. Somewhere the sun is hot on a rubbery leaf, clouds are making shapes and reshaping and reshaping, a spiderweb is broken but still works.” 

― Miranda July, The First Bad Man