Twenty-three past midnight

It’s twenty-three past midnight already.

A pile of dirty shoes beckon to be cleaned. They say you can tell what kind of person someone is by looking at how he/she treats his/her shoes. I wonder how much of that is true.

My work bag is open, its contents scattered on my desk. Leave any one thing and I’d be screwed tomorrow. I wish I was kidding.

I have half a dozen articles left to write. Some of them are refusing to be written but for some sneaky reason I think my brain is just calling it quits… for the night at least.

My heart is aching. Literally. A dull pulling and ripping pain somewhere in my chest is telling me to stop whatever I’m doing and get some sleep. For some reason I don’t think sleep will cure me this time around.

I have work tomorrow (wait, LATER) and I want to be on time for a change. But for some reason I can’t pull away and turn the monitor off. This has become a bad habit I swear.

It’s twenty-three past midnight already, yet here I am still poking and pulling and cutting away at my digits, chipping away at nail and cutting away at excess skin. It’s twenty-three past midnight already but here I am jumping from one webpage to another. I may die tonight or be screwed tomorrow but chances are I’d die with clean digits and a satisfied ADHD mind.

And for some reason, it’s ok.

Oh yeah right.

PUTANGINA GRADUATE NA AKO! SA. WA. KAS!

To whoever you are - I’m really sorry it took this long. If I haven’t, maybe we may have worked things out before the shit hit the fan real hard and maybe we’d still be together now. Fine you’re minus maybe a fifth of your braincells because of the work you’re in but I’ll still love you the same. A person is not just brains ya know. But as the song goes, it’s too late to apologize I guess.

So after this, I’ll drink a bottle of that Gilbey’s Special Premium each for you, for me and for what we had before. I’d like to think we had something special; even now I still believe that. I hope the same holds for you. Would I want to have that back? MAYBE. First question is, would you? You’re right; we’re not the same persons any more so if ever that happens we’d have to work from scratch and maybe we’ll find again what brought us together before.

But I’m not hoping nor expecting anything. I just want us to be happy. And if that means we’d get back together, why not right? But hey, as I’ve said, you are right. Things are different now.

OK back to regular programming.

P.S. I love you. It used to mean a lot before, but I’ll say it now and mean every single word of it - I. Love. You.

Prepare for Trouble, Make it…

… no not double. More like N-tuple, N being a natural number greater than four.

It’s no secret - I’m a pretty lonely guy with his heart on his sleeve. So I guess the world can’t blame me for jumping at every feasible-looking chance of having someone to share my life with. It’s I dunno, human nature to look for companions I guess. Either that or I’m just one very sad desperate individual who’d jump at anything. But anyway. Back to Trouble. Wait. TroubleS more like it. Yes, plural. Because I’m a masochist like that.

Like :3. A romance with her is hardly a good idea, considering her/my/our circumstances. Yet there I was (and maybe/most likely still am), interested in her for a lot of reasons that may make you go roll your eyes in disgust of the creature I’ve devolved to beacuse of her. She’s not drop dead gorgeous; some people may be put off by her er, imbalanced features but as some famous author said more often than not the imperfections make the person more perfect. And her attitude - she’s got spunk, that much I can say. And she’s a good person - kind of heart and all that pizazz. But she’s attached. Yay. (more…)

The Seven Suites Experience

So I’ve been ear-deep in the shit called work; I never did figure out how I dug myself out of that but I sort-of did it. Anyway. Almost a month back I was invited for the (re)launch of Seven Suites Hotel Observatory. Almost a month later, here I am writing about it. (more…)

Cherry-picking

A lot has happened.

Well, duh, of course. It’s been three months. 

I’m tired, but that’s nothing new. Another life has ended. It’s good as dead but hey as the toilet wisdom goes - it ain’t over till the paper work is done. But more than anything, I’m happy it’s over. At the very least, that’s one less worry and ghost to handle and the last tie to a past I so want to just forget has been severed.

Another love has been buried even before it bloomed. I try not to think about it too much these days. So far I’m succeeding; as another adage goes, out of sight, out of mind, out of my life. Well, the third part is a long shot, considering we breath the same air for nine hours a day but hey it never hurts to try yes?

A Matryoshka doll came into my life recently. I have NO IDEA how many layers are still there. One of them lies though; but for some reason I’m still hoping that that layer had a good-enough reason for lying. Maybe because I’m starting to like this Matryoshka doll more than usual. Or maybe I’m just romanticizing her. Do I want to find out what’s what? Yes. Even if a bunch of my inner selves groaned and face-palmed at this idiocy I’m commiting.

Three months have passed