There's a ton of work waiting for me today. In my head, I can see them trying to lure me into starting on one of them. But, stubborn person that I am, I do not. Instead, I blog. I woke up this morning with the sudden urge to write. I picked up the pen and began scribbling on a piece of paper. It wasn't for the workshop, mind you. It was a letter to my current employer telling her that I want work part-time with my current job, to make way for another one I want to have in April. So i'll be on two jobs. I don't know how that's going to happen, but I know it will. Besides, I've studied the workload carefully and I think it's not going to get into my nerves. I remember the man who jumped from the top floor Galleria and died. It must feel so good to fall freely. Let's not talk about the aftermath. That must have really maimed him. Let's discuss about the falling process. It tells me a lot about learning to take risks. Sometimes, I take the fall literally. I go up a building, look down, and realize how inviting the ground looks from such a vantage point. It's the same with my writing. It's there. It calls out to me, but I hesitate. I have no idea why, and I don't really plan on trying to explain it. Lack of inspiration, maybe? I don't think so, my hand and heart want to write furiously, but I can't seem to get started. I contemplated on the writer's block discussion we had at Figaro yesterday. I am guilty of those C mentioned. Now, thinking of the two jobs I plan to juggle on top of my freelance writing career, this is definitely the freefall i'm seeking. However, I feel that something is still not quite right. It's like there's a gap somewhere in me that needs to be filled. I wonder constantly what it is, but I can't seem to find answers. I don't have them. I don't know where to find them. I feel fear toward the only thing I love doing. There has to be something that will complete the puzzle. And it pains me to not know what it is.