What Now?  

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Here I am again. I dunno, I just felt like letting my fingers loose on my keyboard again. Maybe I’ll finally get to write something that makes sense tonight. Just maybe. Nobody reads this shit anyway.

So I got a new job again. New, in the sense that my ID will just display a different company logo, but all things considered I practically crept my way back from obscure depression into masochistic passivity. But who knows? Maybe I’ll enjoy making senselessly repetitive conversation with all those faceless morons again. I can hardly wait.

I patched things up with an old buddy yesterday. I sorta pissed him off by nagging him into helping me get a job in the call center that he works for, only for him to find out after telling all his co-workers how great and reliable I was, that I AWOL-ed a week after getting signed up. I still feel bad about what I did but I had my reasons. I just feel better now that we’re OK.

Pop quiz time. How many idiots does it take to ruin a perfectly good friendship? Just one, me. Even though she says we’re back to being our old abnormal selves again I can’t help but feel like she’s already made a decision to keep her distance. It feels awfully weird really. I hate it. Why couldn’t have I just kept my mouth shut that night. Oh well. If you’re reading this, you think you’ve got problems? I haven’t even begun to tell you.

And to the guys who I had the privilege of playing with tonight, I know last night’s performance wasn’t going to win us any Grammy Awards but hey, they ought to give us a break. After all, we’re talking about shitty instruments and misappropriated funding here. Add to that the fact that we’re kinda short on band members, and what you get is a mediocre performance that would make even Willie Revillame sound less annoying. But all is not lost guys. If anything, this could be our chance to make the elders see how badly we need their support, if they wanna keep the music playing during our seminars, right? See I told you there’s always something good about everything. Wait was that optimism? Who are you and what are you doing inside my head?

I think I’ll stop this pretentious ego-trip right about now and call it a night. Who said I’d write anything that actually made sense anyway? And stop drooling Tom, she’s perfectly capable of carrying her own boobs. Grr!


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Stories from the Simian Crease by Binchee is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Philippines License.
Based on a work at binchee.blogspot.com