Earthquake Woke The Sh*t Out Of Me (And Gave Me Energy?)

What’s the best thing to do after you wake up in the middle of the night and your energy is up to the roof? First, drink a coffee. Yep, no other better way to kickstart that energy than to boost it with holy caffeine before burning it. Well, that’s what’s up tonight, aside from me.

It’s been two hours since I’ve been up a few minutes after 1 AM– thanks to a magnitude God-knows-what earthquake that shook me awake. That’s right, the universe just told me to wake the fuck up, knowing that a lazy adult like me don’t deserve much sleep. So here I am, clueless about how I’m gonna spend all this energy that I just amped with a mug of 3-in-1 coffee.

Maybe I should stop blaming it on the earthquake or the coffee. I could’ve gone back to sleep real quick had I not checked my phone after going to the bathroom, but I just had to see how my crypto investment is doing, like I always do whenever I wake up, and I do every hour of the day. Just can’t help but take a look. After all, I just burned more than half of my not-so-huge capital because I got too excited by how I was making $20-40 within ten minutes by trading with a small capital and a ridiculous amount of leverage.

Yeah, I know, there’s a lot that I need to learn about investing and trading and stuff. Learned my lesson the hard way, now I’m taking it easy with a much smaller leverage because I now understand that that’s just another term for “debt”, so I taught myself to have a lot more patience and discipline instead.

Okay, that’s about 270 words in 30 minutes, and I can’t think of anything more to write about. This is why I’m not a writer. At least, I was able to use some of this energy that seems to disappear much quicker than the earthquake.

Oh, that’s right, the earthquake. Actually, another reason I checked my phone was just to find out the magnitude and the epicenter of the earthquake. I don’t know why that matters- I just wanted to know.

Apparently, it was a magnitude 5.6-5.7 at the epicenter(Occidental Mindoro) which is way over 500km away, and was felt at Intensity Level 4 from where I live. Shit. I’ve no idea how strong or how damaging that can be, but I’m sure as hell that was strong enough to disturb my sleep.

After waking up, I just spent the next two hours on Youtube watching news about what could possibly be the next real estate nightmare starring Evergrande, and why the hell it matters to the world of cryptocurrency. Was also thinking of what I could do with my energy so I ended up writing this. Now it’s been more than three hours and I’m feeling sleepy again. Never trust a 3-in-1 coffee. And, yes, that’s how lazy I am. Thank you, universe, for reminding me about that.

I hope disrupted sleep was the only worst thing that happened to everyone after the earthquake. Would probably spend a few more minutes on Youtube and staring at charts. Or hours- I don’t know.

A Burst of Hope

Bear with me, life, for I have found a way to live again. A way that gave me so much fire it awakened the optimist in me. The optimist that has been, for a very long time, in a deep sleep.

Bear with me, life, for this fire inside has finally started to burn again, just like it was when I was younger and full of dreams. The fire that heats up this cold heart of mine, making me start to believe again.

Bear with me, life, for I have discovered more reasons to push through, now even more than the reasons that made me stop trying to find more reasons.

Bear with me, life, for this is the first time in a long time that I’ve ever appreciated myself for hanging in there. That appreciation alone makes feel even better, even it if it’s just appreciation coming from myself, to myself.

For now I have learned what it really means to be thankful for doing the things I do and why I do them. And for that, I will keep rooting for myself to continue to do so.

For this time, I realized that above it all, I should be thanking you, life, for staying with me and getting through the worst times with me.

So as I keep going further, this time with a burst of hope, I have a simple favor to ask…

Bear with me, life, bear with me.

Ignorance Is Bliss

How many more news do you need to hear, see, or read before you call it quits? What good does news get you anyway? It’s important, of course, to know what goes on around you. But to what extent should you keep aware? Do you really find everything important?

Are you important?

I don’t know when and how it started, but it’s been a while since I’ve last paid attention to the news. Selfish? Yeah, sure. What kind of a person am I not to care about what’s going on in the environment? Do I even know what’s been happening lately? Maybe not. Do I need to know? Hmm, that depends.

I grew up in a culture where the evening news is a must. Reminds me of the good times when we used to end the day by sitting down in front of the TV to watch anime, and then the news. When I was a kid, I didn’t care much about the news, but you don’t have a choice when your parents are in control of what the family should be watching when the clock hits six in the evening. So, you just watch along.

Thanks to the internet, we now have the freedom to choose what type of news we want to see. The news that we think matter. It doesn’t matter if it really does or doesn’t, you’re free to choose what really matters to you. Politics, health, business, gossip and other nonsense, you decide.

What if I miss what other people might think are important news that they believe I should know about? Like I said, I decide now whether it matters or not. If it’s good news, then I’m glad. If it’s bad news, then I’ll be damned. But don’t expect me to do something about it. Surely, other people might feel disappointed and call me selfish, but as long as it doesn’t bother me, feel free to loathe me.

Sorry if I seem selfish. Maybe I am, but it’s a result of trying to care too much about and trying to get involved in other people’s dilemma, only to end up getting disappointed because it’s not even worth it. I thought if I keep myself updated about what’s going on around me, I’m being a good part of society. But once I try to say something, people would just shit on what I believe because it’s against what they believe. Then I’m forced to agree just to avoid any argument. In return, people would think I’m weak.

Is this what I get for caring? For getting involved?

Sorry if I seem lacking, that you don’t feel like I’m doing my part to be a good citizen. Sorry that I didn’t know the latest news about the pandemic, how many new cases there are today, how many lives were taken away. Is it wrong to turn your back on something you’re overwhelmed of because you know there’s nothing you can do about it? These repetitive news are just becoming stressful.

It’s kind of a great feeling, the ignorance. The world can laugh at me for being uninformed, but what good is information if it doesn’t help the current situation in any way? People argue about what brand of vaccine is best, or if it really cures. All the news are surrounded by political noises, noises that never helped resolve anything.

So I sit behind this wall to protect myself. You might say it’s a wall of ignorance that is built out of selfishness, so that it’s easier to turn a blind eye on what’s happening. To me, it’s a protective wall that blocks all the unpleasant sights and noises that poison the minds of the masses. It’s bliss.

Mr. Clueless

Mr. Clueless is his name. A name he gave to himself. He never knows what goes on around him, or what he’s supposed to do after he was told to do something. You ask him to buy a dish-washing liquid, he’ll bring home a tissue. Why did there have to be two different products with the same name? It’s a thing that happened when he was a kid, and its a memory that revisits whenever he’d forget things and get in trouble.

His mom would ask him to buy things at the store. He thought he was good, and didn’t bring a list. He came home missing three items and pissed off his mom. Plenty more times, this had happened that he could no longer remember what those other things were that he’d missed. What’s clear is that he missed them, like he always did.

Mr. Clueless also had one incident when he was nine and he almost got lost in the crowd at the mall. He went there to see a movie with his brother, his cousins, and Aunt Lucy as their guardian. Aunt Lucy was a short-tempered lady. She didn’t have any kids of her own but looks after Mr. Clueless’ cousins. Although she’s nice, she just hates it when people make mistakes around her. And people like Mr. Clueless really tick her off.

After seeing a movie, they went out of the cinema and started to walk. Mr. Clueless is a polite kid. He never would do anything he wasn’t told to do. He was a shy kid. He was just obediently walking, ignoring the way on the left, which seems to lead to the mall’s exit, when he suddenly heard one of his cousins call out his name, almost shouting. His cousin raised his voice a little for Mr. Clueless to hear, but not too loud to avoid getting other people’s attention.

Young Mr. Clueless looks at the direction of the voice, and sees his cousins, his older brother, and his Aunt Lucy heading left while he walked straight ahead. He didn’t mean what he did. He thought he was following one of them, a body in front of him walking whom he was trailing. He was following a stranger, and he didn’t have a clue. His Aunt Lucy asked him with a very pissed off tone in her voice, “What the hell are you doing!?” He didn’t answer. With the tone of his Aunt Lucy’s voice, she asked him a question that didn’t need to be answered. He just needed to know that he screwed up should mind his surrounding moving forward.

These are very small incidents but, to Mr. Clueless, these became unforgettable moments that he keeps remembering whenever he’d screw up, even now that he’s an adult. He’s even much worse now, he thinks to himself. It seems like his being clueless and forgetfulness never left him, and will continue to exist for as long as he lives.

Never-Ending Comeback

Here we go again. Gone for a year, and I come back with nothing but random thoughts and nothing special to say.

So, how’s it been?

No, I wasn’t hiding in a cave during all those days that I haven’t posted anything on my blog, though you could say that was the case, metaphorically. Haven’t most people been stuck in their own caves for most of the months in 2020? Who would’ve expected such a thing to happen in this lifetime? Whatever happened to those who posted “Bring it on, 2020!” on their social media? Feels like taking a huge sucker punch as an answer from 2020, doesn’t it? At least, they got what they asked for.

Interestingly, I’ve never seen the same statement while we all waited for 2021. Literally never. Not one soul was brave enough to tell 2021 to bring it on because, at this point, we’ve learned that nature does know how to bring it.

Nature? Did the virus really exist because some people thought their body were strong enough not to catch any deadly disease and dared to eat something as unusual as… bats? Maybe unless you’re as metal as Ozzy Osbourne, just go with the normal food. C’mon, there’s a huge variety of cuisines you can choose from. Lay off the exotic choices before you create another pandemic. Some people, though, believe that the disease was man-made in a lab. Hmm, that totally sounds like a ridiculous conspiracy, but what’s so impossible these days?

Whatever the case may be, there’s something that I’m truly grateful for — I’m still alive.

Despite everything that started last year that is still happening to this day, here I am, alive and well. Just another privileged motherfucker. Working at home, earning a nice income.

This pandemic taught me some things. There are people out there who are tired of their jobs and maybe now they understand how lucky they are just to have something to help them put food on the table. Still, I can’t blame you if you loathe your current situation and wish you have a better life. Before you give up your job, though, just remember that there are many others who wish they’re earning that little income like you do.

While I’m thankful for being safe and comfy during what could be the most difficult moment in this lifetime, I know for sure now that, unlike before, I’m no longer gonna settle with what I have. This pandemic helped me discover a great opportunity to improve myself financially, which I also believe could change me as a person. It’s not a matter of being discontent, but I just learned that no matter how you difficult you think your life is at the moment, it can always get worse.

Who would’ve expected another pandemic to happen soon? Nobody was ready for it. This may seem wrong, but I’m kinda thankful that it happened because if not for it, I wouldn’t have pushed myself to learn things that could help me grow. I’d most likely just continue to settle with what I’ve always known is not enough to keep me happy.

There’s not much to say, unfortunately. It sucks, considering the time I’ve been away from my blog. But for now, I just wanted to share how thankful I am just to be able to still be breathing today. That I’m still able to do the simple inhale-exhale which is often taken for granted just because we’re not always aware that we’re doing it.

So how about even just for a moment, take a deep breath, smile, and be happy for nothing else but yourself? Be grateful that your whole system is still functioning and taking air in very well. Who knows how long we can continue to be thankful for that…

Rock Music Is Dead

“What a bunch of wannabes! They’re nothing like *insert name of legendary rock band*.”

Either you’ve heard it from someone, or you’ve said it yourself. Comments like these are commonly seen or heard when there’s a new young band that comes out. And I’m talking about real, talented musicians and not those who use looks and other gimmicks as their foundation to gain popularity.

No need to elaborate on that. You know what I’m talking about.

I’ve known this new rock band Greta Van Fleet for a few years now. And to save you the argument, yes, I agree they do sound like the legendary Led Zeppelin. But unlike many people who hate them for that fact, I actually like this band.

Maybe it’s because I’m not a hardcore Led Zep fan, that’s why I don’t mind if some new bands try to be like them. But to hate these new guys for being a “copycat” of the legendary band that heavily influenced them (obviously) just doesn’t make sense.

Just because they weren’t the first to make this kind of music, they don’t have the right to do it? They’re automatically just wannabes?

And you know what’s funny? A lot of new artists today make crappy and meaningless music. You can’t deny this, you’ve once heard a new song from a new artist and you were like, “The music in my time was a lot better. What the hell happened to this generation?” We hope these idiots would at least learn to try harder and create something that would go down in history just like how the legends of our time and back did it.

Then, here’s a bunch of kids who are obviously talented, who could play instruments, who work hard to create good quality music, and how does the older generation respond? “Meh, wannabe legends. Why not stick with what your generation is good at? You’ll never be like *insert name of favorite band*.”

I guess this is the best and the only time we say “Okay, boomer.” Or maybe that’s also already outdated. Then good.

Maybe these new bands will never be as good as the bands who did it in the past, but how about we give it to them, too, for trying to keep our favorite genre alive? You can’t always rely on your legends. Dude, they’re aging!

We have kids here who are brave enough to keep the music, the real music, alive. Your pride might not like this because you’re older, but these young bloods are our hope if we wish to keep hearing more of rock in the future.

The Last Biggest Mistake

He sits on the corner of his bedroom, sweating as if he’d run a mile or two, yet he’d done nothing for the past two hours but sit on the floor in this dark corner of his room, with his left leg straight forward, and the right knee bent a little to the right. His breathing is not normal. His heartbeat is the same as of somebody who’d run a mile or two. Hence, the sweat.

More sweat finally reaches his eyelids. Using the back of his right hand and wrist, he wipes more sweat from his forehead, and wipes it dry on his gray shorts. He squeezes his left hand a little, where he holds a small plastic bag. He looks at it, then he starts to cry more tears. With the amount of combined sweat and tears surrounding his eyes, it’s hard to tell which is which.

He then raises both his knees and wrapped his arms around them, changing himself to a fetal position. He starts to cry more. “Why did things have to end up like this?” He whispers to himself and starts to sob, which turns into a loud cry shortly after. Same thing for the past two hours, everything on repeat.

A series of mistakes is what brought him to this situation. Failures, rejections, silly mistakes, and more failures, everything just seems to go against him. The harder he tries, the worse things get. “Perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something. There’s probably nothing left for me here after I’ve turned my back on every opportunity that came my way.” Regret is the only thing that’s in his heart right now. He always let fear get in the way, and now it’s fear, too, that he’s trying to deal with as he attempts the last and biggest mistake he could ever do.

For another time, he frees himself from fetal position. He leans back against the wall, a bit crouched down, with his head looking up at the ceiling of the dark room. His legs are both stretched forward. He holds that plastic filled with mothballs with his two hands and places on the top of his pants, just over his crotch. He finally opens the plastic bag. The nauseating smell of mothballs spreads in the air but he could care less.

Before he forgets, he pulled the bottled water on his right closer to him, turned the lid open and tossed it across the room. He wants to tell himself that there’s no turning back. His body had become so weak that an 8-ounce bottled water feels like a 10-pound dumbbell in his right hand as he tries to lift it and holds it on top of his stomach, over his shirt that’s already drenched in sweat.

The smell of mothballs had already filled the whole room, but it didn’t bother him at all. After all, it’s not just his nose that is about to have a feel of these chemicals. He thinks just a handful of these tiny white balls would quickly end everything after they run down his throat and into his stomach, or he hopes so, at least.

He unclenches his left hand and opens the plastic bag. Using the same hand, he reaches down the plastic bag and grabs a handful of mothballs. The smell becomes stronger as he pulls out his hand. The white chemicals feel a little sticky in his hand has he draws them close to his face to take a look. His breathing becomes heavier for two reasons — the strong smell of chemicals and him becoming more nervous, thinking about what he’s about to do.

He stops for a second to think, wondering how much he might regret this action once he’s done it. But then on second thought, what else would he regret if he knows that it’s the last big mistake he’s ever gonna make, as well as the last moment he’ll ever breathe this heavy because of his anxiety? He closed his eyes, his breathing getting heavier and faster. He slowly moves his left hand closer to his mouth, uncontrollably shaking and sobbing once again. His mouth seems to refuse to open, but slowly it does.

His mouth finally opens wide enough so he can put the handful of mothballs. This time, it’s his eyes that are shut tight. Just an inch closer now and he’d gotten a lot more nervous that his right hand clenches involuntarily, squeezing the bottle that spilled about a quarter of water in it over his sweat-drenched black shirt. He was just about a second away from forcing the white chemicals into his mouth when…


A notification sound rings his phone. He didn’t care at first. “What else is so important right now?” He thinks to himself. There’s not point in looking what’s on his phone, it wouldn’t matter anyway once he’s done his final mistake. Yet, he slowly opens his tightly shut eyes and looks at the direction of his phone and sees the light emanating from it. The mothballs are still close to his mouth, just waiting to be taken in, but his mouth closes slowly, and his breathing starts to slow down.

“There’s no point looking at it,” he repeatedly thinks to himself, until his curiosity finally got the better of him. “It wouldn’t hurt to look, I guess. Let’s see what’s the last stupid thing I’d see before I go.” His left hand hangs on, still holding the tiny white chemicals. Then he puts down the water bottle from his right hand onto the floor. He crawls slowly to his bedside using only his feet and his right hand, still carefully holding on to his final mistake.

He slides his arm on the bedsheet and reaches for his phone, quickly sliding his finger on the touchscreen to keep it on. It was a push notification from one of his favorite blog sites. He sees the tiny message from the notification — “Black Panther actor, Chadwick Boseman dies…” is all it says. It took him a few seconds to get the words into his head. Perhaps the smell of mothballs started to slow down his brain a little, or he just couldn’t fully grasp what he was reading.

At this point, he’s just confused more than surprised. Chadwick Boseman, the Black Panther, dies. “My mind must be playing tricks on me. Must be those mothballs. Guess they work that fast, huh?” He believes that more than what he just read. The light on his phone starts to dim as he was taking a second look at the push notification to get a clarification of what he’s reading.

He quickly taps his phone in a hurry so it won’t turn of, touching the notification which prompted the phone to lead him to the site. He didn’t intend to, but he unlocks it anyway, and his browser takes him to his favorite website, leading to the full article. This time, he knew that is mind wasn’t messing up. He reads the headline several times before reading the whole story.

As a huge MCU fan, he also admired Black Panther so much that he went to see it twice in theaters when it was released. And just like most MCU fans, he didn’t know much about the actor, specifically his battle with colon cancer. It shocked him so much that he dropped the mothballs and held his phone with both hands, and he continued to read.

He was so engrossed in the article that he instantly forgot whatever he was feeling for the past two hours in the corner of his room. He sat back down to the floor as he continues to read the story, and then went to to see more posts about the now trending topic of the day. He reassures himself for the second time that he wasn’t hallucinating from the smell of mothballs.

As he remembered that, he looks at his left hand and takes the bottled water and rinses his hand with it to remove the stickiness and the smell of mothballs. It didn’t bother him a bit that his clothes were soaked in sweat and water. After rinsing his hand, he drank the remaining water from the bottle, tossed it to his side and continued to look at his phone to read more stories about the actor who had just left a lot of people devastated with his passing.

The man who was recently feeling sad for himself, is now feeling a different kind of sadness. He still feels despair, but this time he no longer feels it for himself. After spending the last hour on his phone reading stories about Boseman and his life, he was in shock after finding out that this actor had been battling cancer since 2016, and continued to make movies, including Black Panther while going through all this ordeal.

He’s an MCU fan, but not much of a fan of Chadwick Boseman so he didn’t know about this side of actor’s story. The late actor used to visit cancer-stricken kids in hospitals, while he himself was suffering the same illness. He built his body to take the role of the Black Panther despite being in stage-3 colon cancer. The dedication that this man had put in his career is definitely beyond compare. This actor, despite probably knowing at the back of his head that his final days were not too far away, didn’t let it keep him from doing what he loved. That’s why it left the world in shock, because many people didn’t even know about it, because he never showed it.

After an hour and a half of reading posts and articles, he puts the phone down, and spends the next thirty minutes contemplating. He looks down the floor and sees the scattered mothballs. All of a sudden, he felt clueless. “What the fuck?” This time, he’s questioning both himself and what he just discovered, but his attention has been diverted to the latter. He now thinks about it more than he thinks about what he was going through, about what he was doing for the past two hours before getting that push notification. He feels as if what happened to Chadwick Boseman was more important that him right now. Not only because the guy was an actor, but because his story is definitely more important.

This man, who was just at the verge of committing the final and biggest mistake of his life, had suddenly turned his emotions around. He no longer feels anything for himself. In an instant, he’s no longer worried about the things he was going through. His attention was grabbed by the biggest headline to ever hit the world today. A man who, despite his illness, pushed himself to give his best in his craft. All his movies, especially the ones from 2016 onward, he made them with full dedication even when something inside him was slowly destroying his body and his health.

It was like a kick in the nuts for the suicidal man. He was never diagnosed with any deadly disease, yet he chose to destroy his body and force his life to end, while there was someone out there who was fighting for his life and refused to give up until the final battle. The actor may have lost the battle, but he had won the hearts of many.

The sadness of this suicidal man was quickly replaced with anger. He’s now mad at himself for almost doing the biggest mistake. He clenched his left hand again, but this time there’s nothing in it. He’s just pissed off at himself. He then slaps his own face five times with his right hand. He suddenly starts to notice the nauseating smell of mothballs and, unlike earlier when he was holding them close to his mouth, he finally feels irritated by the smell of it.

Suddenly, he starts to feel cold. He looks at himself and he finally notices his wet shirt and shorts. He looks around his room and starts to notice the darkness, so he stood up to turn the light on. He looks around his room again and things just felt different all of a sudden. He continues to think what he’d been doing in the corner of his room for two hours, he couldn’t even understand why he’s seeing a plastic filled with mothballs, and the others scattered around the floor.

He didn’t die, but he feels like he just came back to life. Finally, he starts to notice his breathing. His fast beating heart had finally slowed down, and he’s breathing normally. He removes his shirt so he wouldn’t feel cold, then he takes a used cloth from the laundry basket and wipes it all over his body, and his face. Finally, he got his attention back to himself. He may have not died, but he knows that the dead man in him had come back to life.


Another notification rings his phone. This time, he quickly checks it like a normal person would. It was from a group chat on Facebook. His friends have also started talking about the same news he just read.

He’s still devastated by it. He’s sad that he will no longer see more of Chadwick Boseman as Black Panther and as himself, especially after he just found out about his story — the brave and compassionate person that he was. But at the same time, he’s thankful because he knows that he owes his new life to this hero.


This story is pure fiction and was written as a tribute to Mr. Chadwick Boseman. May you rest in peace.

Just Another Sunset

It’s damn hot inside our apartment unit. It always is. It’s 5:57 in the evening and I decided to go outside for some nice fresh air. The air outside is cold, and it sucks that it can’t find its way into our tiny apartment space.

I kinda feel bad for my wife and kid who are sleeping in the bedroom where it’s much hotter. For some reason, my kid slept way too early than he does, which is normally around 10 P.M. They’re sleeping fine, though, but I wish they could feel this fresh cold air that is touching my skin as I walk back and forth outside the apartment building, just inside the wall fence and the gate.

There’s a soothing silence. I can only hear the sound of nature– The birds, crickets, crowing chickens, then the vehicles passing through the highway just a few meters away. All of it happening under this beautiful sunset.

It’s just so damn peaceful.

When was the last time that I’ve felt this peace? Oh yeah, the beach, of course. That last vacation where I and my wife walked along the shore during sunset. Other people were sitting down in the sands and feeling the same peace of mind and heart that I was feeling. That vacation was perfect. I wonder when we can have another one. Yeah, I want more of that.

What made me go all emotional like this over a sunset? It’s not the first sunset and peaceful evening I’ve had since we moved to this apartment, but I think it’s the first time that I paid attention. It wasn’t my intention, I only wanted some fresh air. Well, I asked nature a favor, just some cold air so I can relax, and it gave me more than I deserved.

It’s just another sunset, only I didn’t pass the chance to appreciate it.

Writer’s Block And Laziness

Image by Steve Johnson from Pixabay

When you read stories of writers, you’ve probably read the words “Writer’s block” a lot of times. I’ve discovered that term years ago when I created my personal blog. Since then, I’ve started using writer’s block as an excuse when I can’t write.

But, really, how many times have I actually experienced writer’s block for real and not just saying it as an excuse because I was lazy to come up with any ideas and stories to write? I’ve been blogging for years, but if you look at my posts and the frequency of my posting, you can easily tell that I haven’t been writing for years long — probably just months, or even just a few weeks, I think.

When is it writer’s block and when is it laziness? I guess it’s not too hard to find out. When you sit down and stare at the blank white page for eternity, trying to make your mind work and come up with even the slightest idea for your next story, and yet nothing comes out, that’s writer’s block.

Other times when I sit down and stare at a blank page and try to write, my attention gets caught by other things social media or games, or any other stuff, I’d get back to the blank page and tell myself, “Nah, it’s not happening today. I’ve got writers block.” But the truth is, I’m just being lazy which, unfortunately, has been the case most of the time.

It makes me feel guilty. Whenever it happens, it makes me look back at my blog post and see how long my blog has been up, and yet I don’t have a lot of posts. I can still remember my 500 words per day goal that I started at the beginning of this year. Obviously, I’ve already failed that. Halfway through 2020, I’ve only written probably a month’s worth of blog posts, or even less.

It wasn’t writer’s block. My mind’s just like a bubble. There’s nothing in it but air, and it easily bursts whenever I get distracted by other things, then I’d stop trying at all. I wanna write, yet I easily get tired of thinking everytime I try to come up with stories to tell. I can’t be called a writer or a blogger like this. Something’s gotta change.

Nobody’s stopping me so why do I stop? I know. It’s because I’m a procrastinator and I’m so sick of it. Yet I don’t know why I can’t stop letting time pass and tell myself I’ll start tomorrow.

So what is this? A mid-year new year’s resolution? Nah, whatever this is, I just wanted to write it down. I wanna write what’s in my head. Maybe I’ll get back to my drafts and get them done one by one. It’s better to have writer’s block than a bubble to burst. At least I know I’m trying. My mind’s all rusty now. I gotta get this machine working again.

Doughnuts in the Fridge

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

It’s a battle of will and discipline against craving and satisfaction.

Two boxes, a dozen doughnuts in total. I’ve had two pieces already, and that’s enough. No, more than enough. More than enough calories that I’m supposed to have so I can lose weight and fat- especially the most stubborn ones around my waist. But why can’t I stop myself from wanting more?

It wasn’t only those two pieces of doughnuts that I’ve eaten today. Of course, there were breakfast and lunch, too. How much calories have I taken in? I don’t even know. I never cared to know how much, not the tiniest details. Unfortunately, paying attention to details has never been one of my strengths. To my previous employers who hired me, yes, I was lying on my resume (just on the detail part, at least). But let’s move on, alright?

My mouth feels dry and I feel hungry. No, wait. That doesn’t make sense. I must be thirsty. Yes, I’m just thirsty. No more food tonight. It’s past 9 in the evening and any food that will go past my mouth during this time is already considered late night snack, and that’s not part of the diet plan. What diet plan? Any diet plan. There was no plan, just a plan to go on a diet.

And I’m starting that right now. I’m serious! Okay, I’ve said that many times, and I’m growing tired of it. I wanna end it now. From now on, when I say that’s the last one, that’s really the last one! I’ll go drink a glass of water, and another one. You know what? Let me go ahead and brush my teeth. But the problem is the sink is past the fridge, where the boxes of doughnuts lie in wait. No, they’re waiting for nothing. I’m not even gonna look at the fridge.

Damn, you know what? I’ll write. I’ll distract myself by writing, so here I am. The craving should go away once I’m done with this. I’ll go to the sink, get my toothbrush and brush my teeth and wash away all of my palate’s cravings.

Is this how dieting is supposed to be? Always fighting your craving? Well, do take note that I’ve already had two doughnuts earlier. What I’m feeling right now is just a craving. So whenever you feel like you’re depriving yourself of happiness just because you couldn’t eat what you’re craving, shut up for a moment and think, “What did I eat earlier that I really liked? Shouldn’t I be satisfied already?”

Dieting takes a shitload of self-discipline. That’s why not a lot of people are able stick to it. But like I said, I don’t really have a diet plan. Maybe you don’t, either. Just always keep in your mind that you need to eat to live, and not live to eat. Think of craving as a form of greed. Keep it under control, otherwise, consider yourself as a gluttonous, immoral being who wants to eat everything and not leave anything for other people.

There, I downed two glasses of water. I feel full again. I did it! Now, let me go to sleep and make sure all of this is over. And no, I did not deprive myself of food. I’ve had enough and I should wait for the next day before I can eat more again.