My alarm goes off at four. I let it snooze and I drift in and out of microsleep until I become alert enough at five-thirty. I jump out of bed, grab my towel, and hit the shower.
As soon as I have dried myself, I pick out clothes, wear them, then fix my bag. I only have five things to make sure to put in my bag: personal phone, work phone, charger, wallet, keys–never forget the home keys. Make up kit? It’s there but I don’t look for it. By six-twenty, I’m out the bedroom door.
By the time I reach the dining room, I scour for food to eat. Sometimes I manage to sit down and eat on a plate. Rice, viand, and sunny-side up eggs, the staple breakfast food. Lately, I’ve been getting whole wheat bread from the ref to stuff in the egg and viand for to go. I get enough tissue so I can hold the sandwich using my left hand, bag on either shoulders, and my workphone on my right hand. By six-thirty, I’m out of the house.
No time to watch TV, no time to read, no time for music. So far this has been the perfect profile of my mornings. Like clockwork.
“I don’t know how you are so familiar to me–or why it feels less like I’m getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are…”
My diary remains untouched on my desk.
This blog has been suffering a disease I would like to call “The Glorified Depository of Monthly Status Updates” (except mine are in pictures and are usually called ‘look backs’).
I could deliberately list down a thousand reasons as to why my writing has been waning. Blame it on the job and the excessive reading. Yeah, right.
We all know (just agree with me on this) that at the end of each day, I only have myself to blame–me and my irrevocable incapacity in ‘logging’ the simplified and happy version of my life. Through the years, I have been accumulating writings of my heart wrenching experiences. Oh, you can’t imagine the patience I have for slaving over wording heart break. It’s like a masochistic addiction of making unwanted memories more real and more ‘there’–a little more ‘at my fingertips’!
Type. Delete. Reword. Delete a few more. Reword. Stare. Type in ‘why’ questions that are sure to punch the gut. Stare. Cry some more. Post.
Nowadays, life has been quiet, simple, and happy. It’s funny how, right at this very moment, I seem to be perfectly content in living the present than writing and rewriting the past. I seem to be more ‘over here’ than ‘over there’, standing right where life happens and where happiness is really at my finger tips.
That’s a good thing, right?