Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Write for the sake of your love of writing.

Or do whatever it takes for you to end up (and eventually die) doing what you love, whatever it is you want to do, even if it takes your life.

Because it is the purpose you and I have been made for, and it the reason to live, and if it really is what it is,, then id be happy to die of it.

Pretty idealistic. In a way it is grim, knowing that the ultimate end would be death. But don’t we already know that death will come? And at this point, the ‘YOLO’ adage comes in.

Life comes and goes. Painful to be left by someone. Also when it is your turn to finally leave people behind. Death can only be sweet when it is:

Escaping from something painful.
Entering it knowing you have served yourself well.
Dying at the peak of your fame (or infamy).

And with these I guide myself, no less, through life. Guidance through life using death. Flashy.

And this is when I know that I should be great. i shouldn’t exit BIG; I’d rather live big, and then die in a small manner. Pull together my greatest of works and then publish, then wait for the fame, and if that doesn’t do anything to help the spread of common good, I’d settle with infamy for the plagues I’ve unknowingly let out. Either way, something I have done is out there, bolstered the good, or at least shaken weak faith.

Anyhow, I am not dying. Simply thinking. Hopefully not stinking.

On with the current events:

This is a new laptop. Secondhand but ever-efficient. One dream is to own a machine to keep thoughts in, something with a real keyboard, while listening to music. Also this keeps my music organized and talks to my menagerie of gadgetry and others’, among others. Magic.
Halfway through The Once and Future King by T.H. White.
Started watching Game Of Thrones this morning. The books I shall read after finishing aforementioned tome. The tome is three inches thick, by the way.
I am now based in Kalibo, Aklan. Provincial place, which I hate, but it is also home to delicious pork. And the cost of living is low so the upkeep for living hasn’t changed much.What I have sacrificed in living in Manila, Kalibo makes up for it in its own little way. I live alone in a condo in Manila, and I live the dorm life in Kalibo with other flight attendants.  Magic.
Recently I have been the angry flight attendant. Frequently fly with me and you’ll see why. Actually here is why: some people may fly frequently, but that doesn’t mean they have become, in any way, observant. Or smart. Or literate. Or considerate.
I have maintained a love/hate relationship with my work. In my head I have some rough opinions. People close to me know what I harbor in my head.
I share with Mark Ronson the birthday September 4th.
As always, after every hiatus, I am getting up again. Writing is difficult. But it is also easy. It’s dumb to say it is easy.
I am not dating.
My freezer is full of coffee grounds. Real dark, thickly delicious coffee.
Everybody says I’m thinner than the last time they saw me, which is roughly a week prior. And they marvel at my ability to eat. I gloat through my mouthfuls of food, bragging about my ultra-fast metabolism, which I do not know yet if existent.
I drink more now, although I cant say I have a higher tipsy threshold. Beer and hard liquor. Most nights exclusively beer, but I wouldn’t refuse a shotglass. Or bomb.
New work uniform.
Same work routine, with some little negligible amendments. Basically, the core remains the same.
Sadly, I am asking for forgiveness for the bad writing.

It has been five months since I last posted. And for much longer before that, I think. I still hope to write for my fame though.

I have a new set of long-term goals:

Publish something.
Save enough to keep on writing.
Take up an MBA (either in PT or English).

My own life bores me. I don’t know if my goals are reachable, and if life would go my way. But what I do assure myself is that I shall write.

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