Life in a nutshell some few months ago.
If you ask me now, it’s pretty much the same except that I’m… tougher? Hahaha! I don’t know.
My writing is rusty, so I am apologizing in advance. Advanced? I do not even know anymore.
It is honestly difficult to start typing because, for the last couple of months, I do not think I have been passionate about anything.
(*Insert internal monologue* WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO WRITE ABOUT JAMIE WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WIT’YA YOU CAN NOT WRITE ANYMORE YOU ARE SO BAD AT WRITING EFF YOUUUUU HUHUHUUHUHUHUU)
I looked at countless of articles and blogs, hoping and wishing to find something that will kick start my half-dead, so-called talent.
Oh maybe I should just talk about my current not-so-passionate state?
Right now, I am still pretty much adjusting to the work-life balance everyone is trying to achieve. Yesterday marked our batch’s first month working for iStaff. It has been a roller coaster of a ride—from the abrupt flinch of productivity, to the sudden shift in body clock, to working around the job, to getting the right technique, to changing techniques, to having to experience yet another halt in production, to receiving the bad news, to crying my eyes out out of sadness (I am still so bad at goodbyes, yep), to another sleeping pattern change, to the dreary wait to which account we are going to be under.
That was life compressed in just a month. A month.
iStaff had been really great, though. I met a lot of new people, some of whom, quite frankly, have been starting to feel like family. During the start, it felt as if I was in school again. We introduced ourselves and discovered one’s names. We got to talk more during breaks; each other’s back stories materialized during our long walks through F. Ortigas and Julia Vargas, somehow creating a crossroad where everyone met in the middle. We laughed at all (I mean ALL) our wrong sent messages to official group chats, awkwardly paused video frames from the links we were working on, and even very random irrational thingamajigs.
I was just conjuring up a blog post in my head the day before they broke the news that the Vidy team decided they were withdrawing their contract. It still stings to say and type the name; like losing an old toy you played with constantly, a security blanket that made you feel safe at home. It was like being robbed off of an opportunity you have waited for so long. It was hard. Four of my colleagues and I had to stop somewhere just to contain what we were feeling. Two BFF-sized Mcdonald’s fries were not enough to calm us down. I did not want to go home because I was going to be alone with my thoughts. The bus ride home was already agonizing, what more staying alone in my room and just pondering the experience all by myself? (Can I just say I tear up a little while typing this paragraph?)
As cliche as it may sound, life had to go on. Moving forward, in fact, was our only option.
But seriously, looking back, counter-productivity started even before work. I got over wanting to make a name online because only good-looking people excel in that criteria; either you were beautiful, sexy, privileged, a celebrity, or a child of a politician. I am also the worst at marketing myself that I end up trying too hard. The drive was not there anymore, so why continue stirring the wheel, right? I was just always unsatisfied with how I wrote my blog posts, how I shot my photos, how they were post-processed, how I presented them.
Freelancing was fine but the monthly income was always the challenge. You were receiving P10,000 one day for a single gig but you get nothing for a couple of months after that. It also was not helping that you have so much down time that you end up overthinking everything: your existence, what you really wanted to do, what you were, what you will be. It came to a point where you just ended up sleeping as late as 7AM because there was just nothing to keep yourself busy. Sleep did not even answer. All those thinking eventually lead to doubting what I can do. I stopped writing. I stopped reading books. I stopped experimenting with my camera. I stopped producing videos. I held back and anticipated a miracle that might have never even happened.
I have been waiting for a plot twist to transpire in this extremely unfruitful year; that maybe there is a love story wanting to be finally written or a new friendship that does not need any validation.
In all these, I realized that the plot twists have already taken place. And that somewhere deep down my veins, I am beginning to be passionate about something.
I am reliving an old passion—life.
I’m still alive.
Well, if you you follow me on social media then you would know. I don’t even know if somebody reads my blog or if people even still read blogs. Do they?
I kind of stopped.
The last one I wrote was in February and it was not even intended to be here. It was a typical note in my phone that I thought can be published since it was timely—emotions and Valentine’s Day, amirite?
But before that blog post, in September of 2017, I wrote about struggling to create something. Everything just seemed underdone.
More than a year after, I am in a completely different place.
I have been employed for 11 months now. My life completely went 360 degrees from being a worthless piece of shit (not my word) to being a human being contributing to the world. Or am I?
I wrote this piece for work (still not writing as a job though) and all my life updates were in there. Long story short: our first account shut down, I met new amazing people who make my existence bearable, was transferred to a new team, found a family that I enjoy working with despite the stress and pressure.
I’ve always thought that I’m being productive because, hello, work. But honestly, I am still struggling. I feel like I can do more. But I can’t come up with a plan because I’m also hesitant to leave. Like what I said, I love where I’m at and I’m enjoying. But you know that feeling that you’re craving for more? Like there’s more to it than this?
I don’t know. Maybe I’m just demotivated about everything: work, home, and even my health.
Let’s just hope I get out of this phase soon.
I always make it a joke how love is never going to happen for me or that I don’t have and might never have a special someone. But in reality, I am a hopeless romantic.
Romcoms are my favorite. I get overly emotional whenever I watch them: kilig at sappy moments, sad at breakups, joy when the two leads get back together.
I don’t know when the one will come. I always tell people how I feel like I don’t deserve any form of love from a significant other because I’m just too much for anybody. But deep down in my heart, I want it. And even if he’s not here yet, it’s fine. Kaya ko pa naman eh.
I wrote the one below in so many different and varying occasions; but always during times I was wishful.
I like this boy. And for once in my life, it’s fine that he doesn’t like me back. I think.
I’m fine with all the sweet nothings I interpret as kilig. I’m fine with the mere thought that I was wearing a black top and black shoes one day and he was wearing my white counterpart. “Yin yang,” a friend said. I’m fine with having the same sneakers as him; mine is in neon pink, his is in blue.
I’m fine sitting in the couch and then him suddenly entering the door. He was wearing almost the same exact outfit as I was: white top, blue jeans, white shoes, and green jacket. Or that one time I was wearing a white top, blue denim jacket, black pants and he was in a blue shirt and a pair of black pants.
I’m fine with the small talks; him asking me why I’m early at work or what time I’ll be out. Or when he teased me if I was going to sleep in the office because I came back just to hang with some friends. This boy can pass as the most quiet guy at work, may I just add.
I’m fine with all the 😊 and the hehe he sends along with his few text messages. I’m fine if he doesn’t reply back or not text at all.
I’m fine seeing him stand up from his seat to walk around because he’s either sleepy or just getting a drink from the pantry. Sometimes I see him smiling, most times not at me, but at least he was.
I’m fine with him deciding to sit beside me despite having four other vacant seats. He was facing me the whole dinner, even during those times he was eating. I was just too shy and guarded to look at him again and again. That was my chance, ‘no?
I’m fine that other girls get overly kilig around his presence and I just look from afar because I don’t have the courage to go up to him to ask for a picture like them. I don’t like being upfront with my emotions. (This is such a Cancer thing to say.) Also, I don’t get the need for a photo op. It’s not as if he’s a celebrity.
I’m fine when he’s sitting near me or beside me. Or that one time when we were the only ones in the elevator and we were standing beside each other, both leaning back on the elevator. The elevator was too big for the both of us but he was standing right beside me, I thought to myself.
Sometimes I initiate small talks but I can never ask him about his life. I try. But I get even more tongue tied when I do.
You see, I can never flirt. I don’t know how. Or that maybe I know how when I’m aware that somebody likes me back. Also, I don’t want to initiate because I’m just too afraid of getting rejected.
But isn’t that fine?
For now though, I’m fine having a happy crush. Just a happy crush. 😉
For a few days now, I’ve been itching to create something.
I want to create content.
But I have also been feeling a little iffy about my work/s.
There’s always that fear that I might not deliver, that I did not deliver; or that it might not be given attention. This is hard because I (used to) think that I don’t need an audience. But I do. I really do.
I was going through the pictures I shot when we went to Rainbow Dreams Café and the Under The Sea Café last week. And although the colors were nice because of the restaurants’ aesthetics, I still feel like I underperformed. Like I could have taken better photos but I was too preoccupied with meeting this set of blogger friends for the first time. Or I hate that my videos were all too freaking shaky and lack substance so I can’t even create a no-speaking vlog. (How do you even call those vlogs?)
I always, always feel this way.
How do I even keep up?