I'm riding a tuk-tuk to my writing spot. This wasn't planned at all. A person who helps at the house was supposed to give me a motorcycle ride to the town market so I could buy some plastic bags. But a drizzle began falling soon after Asar and became rain and without much thought, I was already texting the boy that we would have to reschedule. And I walked absentmindedly to the road to hail public transport.
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I’m now at a restaurant just beside my writing spot. I’ll go in just after I eat. Having visited there everyday for the past months, I have grown disgusted by their small menu and what little they offer. It’s pathetic, really, that in this whole city, there's only one place I can go to.
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While scrolling Twitter today, a friend posted a stressed tweet, saying how anxious she is that tomorrow, for the first time in two years, she would have to clock in their office at 7 AM. I envy that she gets to be stressed out about a thing like that.
In this restaurant right now, a table of young girls are also stressing. Next week, when they’ll have face-to-face classes, they're saying they won't have the aid of Google anymore. Everyone is moving forward.
I seem to be at a stagnant phase and just envying everyone.
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At our first iftar I burned my throat because I gobbled down porridge after being hungry the whole day. I’ve been feeling feverish since so I broke today's fast to take some much-needed medicine. I struggle with Ramadan. I struggle with fasting.
The excitement in our household was so great, too much for me, that I locked myself in my room just to have a breather. I was so drained that I even neglected to finish the blog entry I was supposed to post last Sunday. Another promise broken.
I meant to post every Sunday. Many articles say that bloggers should only post once a week or even less. I suppose it’s not to annoy our readers. But my passion for writing has rekindled. I decided that I’m going to post (and send as a newsletter) every Sunday. And I will post (as only a blog post) whenever I want. Like now. Writing is the only thing that’s keeping me sane. I can't listen to what the market advises anymore. I must do this for enjoyment.
I wish I were in Manila. For now there's only my writing spot, my only place of solace.
Much love,
D