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.