I'm so lazy — I could die.
After publishing "Starry Friend" this morning, I fell asleep. Trying my best to get rid of the congestion in my nose/throat and that effervescent headache. I can't believe sipping some icy chocolate milk last night resulted in another stupid case of a sore throat. Coughing till now. What is so bloody wrong with my current immunity? I hope this is a sure sign that Death is near.
As dramatic as usual.
Noon beckoned with its warmth and I woke. Lazily. Hopelessly. My dream involved school papers, scholarships, and a restaurant. I should have recorded every bit of it and turned it into a surreal story. I wonder if fiction writers always dream about the most ridiculous and curious scenes. The kinds that overwhelm us so much that we must write about them and tell the world.
How did eight hours elapse without my relentless attempt at completing seven articles in a day? I have set a goal with tomorrow's Tuesday as the deadline: forty posts. I need fifteen more to go, which means eight today and seven tomorrow. Feasible. If I refrain from slacking too often. Quit ogling those lovable animals on Cute Overload. They're evil!
Think poetry. Write some.
Brainless days like this freeze my brain and leave me in despair. A blank white screen stares at me with document titles waiting to be elaborated. Feeling like the biggest failure. But when I told myself I would do something, I will. Even if it kills me to prove it. To prove myself.
And... when I checked my phone messages and work email just now, the secretary asked me to substitute for another teacher for a whole week, in that haunted building, tutoring those remiss bank workers. I don't like the waiting-for-students worthlessness. But it seems that she was desperate for not being able to find another teacher. I felt rather sorry for her. So I said okay. Still waiting for her to call me tomorrow morning.
Another week to endorse the life of a wage slave. Not something I look forward to. Hoping I won't get sicker. Or I can just spend my days silently dreaming of you. Inhaling the music of your loneliest heart.
Monday, February 13, 2012, 10:55 PM
Infatuation turning into disease is from Spill Canvas's song "All over You".