Sleep is consuming me. Not that I haven't had enough in the past few days. Every hour, every minute, every second, I am reminded of my cozy bed back in Davao City. How it must be so comforting to sink into the soft, cotton-sheeted mattress right now and lull myself to slumber. I wonder. Is it sleep that I crave with this recollection, or is it the company of the house I call home? It's been 2 years since I've been there. My family probably thinks of me everyday - how I am, and what I'm doing with my life. Do you believe that whenever you are itching to be somewhere, someone or something actually sends out signals for you to come? I do. I feel strongly that my family aches for me to stay with them. However, being the stubborn, quasi-independent girl I am, I choose to rough it out here in Metro Manila. Life is hard. And becomes harder as you face it. But the pain is all worth it. In the end, you feel liberated. Free. I write this blog in the hopes of not falling asleep at work. I write this blog to somehow bring out whatever it is that's bothering me right now. Funny, I don't even know what it is. All I know is that it's there, and every time I strain to identify it, my head hurts, my jaw locks and then aches, and my heart is still. I seek calm. I seek sleep. I seek the bed I've had since I was a child. I seek the comfort of being with family. I seek the comfortable lifestyle I once turned my back on. I do not regret, though. But sometimes, I can't help but dream.

Homework for Monday, March 31, 2003:
- Decide on project
- Expose yourself
- What's your motivation?
- Draft by Monday on a short bond paper, 800 words (4 copies)

Ideas for article? Hmm....
- Relationships? Too broad. Let's narrow it down. What about refusing to fall in love? How would you do it? Focus. Focus.
- Sex? The triviality of the act? Too strong. Will need more backups on this.
* think of more possible topics
-C's coffee suggestion sounds good, too. Meanwhile, look around. There are a lot of things to write about everywhere. Watch out for the signs.

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.

I haven't been writing for a while. My schedule does not allow me the luxury of writing for kicks. The only 3 hours l have left for anything else apart from work is the only time i can sleep. Naturally, I award myself the privilege. Is not writing a blog for the workshop a crime? I don't think so. I alone control my life and what I do, so I will write whenever I feel like doing it, and whenever I can. We have homework for today's session by the way. I wrote them on tattered pieces of paper, so I'm planning to type them after this. I won't be changing anything, though. I will type the words verbatim.

Blogging is quite a nuisance for me. I am expected to write about my anger. But somehow, it has diminished. I would like to write about things that interest me now. My anger has been relegated to the back of all my present concerns. I am so busy I don't have time to be angry. It makes my jaw hurt whenever I try to vent out my angst. Consequently, i get asthma attacks. Tough. I wonder why I have to go through this entire writing process. Why can't I just write like I drink water? And why do I always have to wait for that bulb to light over my head to be able to do it furiously? And why am I always sooooooo 'tamad'????

Grrr....