Mornings at the Garden Loft of 5

I have to admit, every day when I get to our office, I try to find a place in my mind where I can be quiet and write (to you).

But when I see the things I have to do, or have not done from yesterday, I sink into my goody good shoes and decide to scratch off the things that must be done over the things I want to do. That is every day. I'm not complaining,  because I like my job. It doesn't feel purposeful, and the creativity it requires is thin. It's fun to work where I work, people are cool, relaxed, on the go, and young (not literally, entirely). But I don't forget that I'd like to

Talk to you
Have daing salad with you
Marathon with you (not exercise)
Hug cats with you
Pass notes
With you

When I'm in my commute, quiet mostly, I wonder if I still have a page in your book. I miss how you write my initials like a tattoo, only better, because it isn't painful, just ticklish.

Yeah, the first time I saw my name on your page I imagined how it must be kakakiliti, then kilig.

Drifting off

If you’ve ever found yourself fixated on a season that you feel a blur in you when that particular season shifts, then you and I must be sharing a gene or so. I feel queasy over losing summer without accomplishing something big or grand or legen, wait for it, dary.

My journal has been empty for weeks now and although I am open to the idea of overlooking the big and small, I am still badgering myself over my dullness. I’ve been making new friends in the office, though I must admit, office friendships are what I would suspect to be unsound and temporary, based on the little and the lot that I’ve experienced and heard from people’s stories.

Yesterday, I was drifting off while this new colleague told me of her love life, of this guy who once broke her heart but is now bothering her over a made out session they recently had, and about her hot friend’s perfect life but melodramatic way of living. It’s a lot to take, so I drift off as I try to listen. I’ve been smoking a lot lately. I’m not happy about that.

While drifting off aka pretending I was listening, I managed to note down three mildly peculiar things about myself and what I was feeling in the moment. I feel fortunate to remember those three things until this morning. I know this blog post is a heavy load of me-me-me things, but then again this is my page so if I would like to start each of my sentences with an I, I shall.

 1. I think my friend V thinks I’m a good listener. She’s a very talkative girl, and I think any secret I tell her will not be a secret at all. She’s a free-flow of information, like the internet, and I think she thinks I’m a good listener. I wonder if she can notice me checking out random cute clothes in the background. Boy, our building’s smoking lounge is lovely; despite the dilapidated chairs.

 2. I have been recently arrested in my own head for quite a while. At first, I thought it was just a random swing of craziness but it happened again this morning. It happened the other night, yesterday and this morning, as I was trying to get over one difficult level of Candy Crush in my commute. It scares me, when my head spins heavy like that. I don’t even know how to describe the feeling. All I know is it makes me breathe heavier and my heart beats faster when I get arrested in my head. It’s like I hear voices and all the thoughts crash into one mash of scrambled noise. It isn’t peaceful. This morning, I felt like crying. I don’t understand why it happens or what triggers it. I just know, every time it does happen, I want to hurt myself.

 3. I like taking selfies while waking outdoors. Literally, while walking down clear sidewalks. I don’t even feel ashamed nor fear what the passing cars would think of me. I never really liked cars anyway. Wouldn’t care less about what the people in those cars would think. I don’t like people.

So to officially bid my beloved season goodbye, I have been carrying an umbrella in my bag every day. It made me miss my college umbrella—a hot pink one. I wish I don’t lose my green umbrella now. I hate it when I lose my umbrella. It’s very hard to find a good umbrella nowadays.

What have you lost lately?

Wishi-wish-wish

I hate taking medicines. I have that new age belief that medicines make us weak, vulnerable even, to more reasons to be weak and vulnerable. I know that’s not true is it not? but we all have to hold on to something we can believe in. I’m a firm believer of false truths. How sometimes, these false realities become true—The Secret, I would say—sometimes, just plain delusional.

Next week shall be the start of a new chapter in my life, a chapter that I can only hope to write well, eloquently, elegantly and strong. I have always wanted to be a writer. Not for the by line nor the fame, should there be any. Definitely not for the money because knowing me, though I know I have the bone and spine to find pure joy in the simplest things, am easily attracted to glitter and the sparkles of life. Luxury is my middle name; but like most of us, that middle name isn’t quite necessary.

So next week will begin a new chapter of my life where each day shall be a make or break point, in its most literal sense. My responsible DNA hopes to satisfy with excellence; while my playful bone can only pray for pleasantries along the way. I hope it wouldn’t be a tireless cycle. I hope for growth and a steadfast movement towards something better. It’s almost mid-year and I’m closer my “moving out” deadline. However, today, I shall be thankful for movement.

From point A to B.

From Y to everlasting changes.

To highways and pitchforks.

Credits.

Cue music.

Here comes that little teaser at the end of a movie. That elusive five second spiel you didn’t think existed, a gift for the patient ones.

I own a Toshiba something laptop that is brutally butchered into a seemingly functional piece of metal. This would probably sound pointless, or maybe even shallow, but I’m kinda looking forward to using a new computer for work. I think I will be issued a laptop, it wouldn’t be mine to own, but still mine to use and bring home and stuff, I assume. Now, knowing my paranoid mind, I’m sure commuting with a laptop that I might be held liable for should it be lost or worse, stolen, wouldn’t settle quite nicely; but I’m actually excited to have a new laptop.

Let me tell you a little something about my Toshiba. It’s so odd, because I didn’t name my laptop, or if I did, didn’t take its nickname seriously. I got this laptop three years ago when my tito asked me to return home and help with the family business. I paid for this laptop for six months and come to think of it, is the second most expensive thing I ever bought with my own money (the first being my 60k camera which until now, I have no idea how to use, really haha). I got a Toshiba because for gadgets, I always believe Japan knows best. I also got a Toshiba because I remember S owning a white Toshiba. According to her, a Mac was too expensive and complicated to maintain. Well, who am I kidding? I got a Toshiba solely because S owned a Toshiba. End of story.

To date, this laptop has been the dearest thing to me. I know that may have sounded geeky, but I have written so many things with this laptop. Music and relationships aside, this laptop is the reason for the many little successes I have earned the past few years. This is the room I never had, my room of requirement. Every scratch on my Toshiba looks beautiful to me. I even have scotch tape over it’s track pad (?) because it’s so overused, the protective covering against static, I assume, has been completely erased out. It has a crack, not just a dent, on its side, and its battery life is almost non existent, but my god, this Toshiba is more than a laptop. It’s a SEAL. It’s an overworked soldier, tortured with years of almost 24/7 typing, multiple-almost-illegally-multiple windows, and excessive careless downloads—all of which were done without an anti-virus! But hey, it’s still alive and kicking. I am a bit sad to part with it, but I know I must save up for a new laptop. Should I be given a new laptop to work with thanks to my new job, I will be grateful that my Toshiba, though unnamed, will be earning its well-deserved rest. It’s been three years, but with my abuse and misuse, that’s three dog years for this Toshiba wonder.

With that, I hope my office issued laptop will be a Toshiba. I honestly can’t see myself using a Samsung (that will die on me), and I doubt an Acer or an HP will survive me as well. I think I can only live with a Toshiba, Sony or a Lenovo… but then again, any would do.

Still, I hope!

Of course if I end up having my own PC at my station, please disregard all the talk and stop at cue music.

Ahh... these simple almost mundane wishes make me, me.