Making Toast

As I wirte I am running SERIOUSLY late. I've been so, late I mean, since I realized that punctuality is not a mandate but a choice at work. Though still under probation, my work ethics are as solid as the old-time regulars...completely beyond contempt.

I vow to make blogging an everyday thing now, as I had last year, when it didn't dawn on me yet that my risk at being ployed at is increasing by the minute (as I used to blog every minute...not an exaggeration sometimes.) The inspiration of blogging everyday came from a random desire to email my bestfriend Nadine this morning. It was 15 minutes after I turned on the water dispenser and I was supposed to pour myself a glass of the blasted thing when I noticed the massive empty water gallon sitting on top of the dispenser. What did I expect? I have enjoyed ironies even if they seem to emerge for the sole purpose of spiting me, or in this case, have me shaking to the bones for, once again, being 30 minutes late. Hmm...come to think of it, ironies' sole purpose has always been to spite people, hasn't it? Anyhow, I proceeded with grace (surprisingly so) and plugged in the small water heater beside the bloody dispenser, marched to the room and allowed blogging history to take its rightful place in my life once again.

That was reason number 1. I've reserved a more significant reason than that first one.

Yesterday, I found out I was a type four by Enneagram standards. A type four is an individualist. An individualist is the worst possible creature that you could welcome into your life. Well, one of the worsts anyway. As we've established before, I simply do not have the luxury of time to do the tell-all on individualists (assuming of course that you're gebuinely trying to catch on because you're interested), I'll just give you the liberty to click follow this link: http://www.enneagraminstitute.com/TypeFourOverview.asp

My water's done and I am off.

Specifically giving ourselves time to think would bear much fruit in the end. "Find out who you are...and do it on purpose." is one adage we should live by.

Sometimes we put off too many things, my bestfriend said. What's more sickening is the thought that we are putting off the more significant things in our lives such as finding out who we truly are, knowing what fuels us, taking the time to put ourselves in other people's shoes or simply being ourselves without a care at all of who's watching.

We bring too many potatoes in our bags. Most have gone rotten, some, without a doubt, would suffer the same fate.

I love writing and I wish I could share myself with the world I know. But exposing one's self to people one loves and knows one well makes one vulnerable to rejection, harsh criticisms and eventually pain. That's a risk I'm not willing to take right now.

There are no right or wrong decisions. What matters is that we're prepared to face the consequences of our actions. As I am not prepared to face the pain that follows after one reveals oneself. I'll just be for now. I'll just be for now.

As creatures of habits, we are enslaved by the mundane, if not today maybe tomorrow. The important thing to remember is that this entrapment will only last as long as we allow it to because, ultimately, we are creatures with will.

This morning at work, I realized that I am not powerless and I can choose to leave a job that is not worthy of my time or my existence.

What's important is not what others think that's important. The whole world may think that you should respect your superiors unconditionally but if you do not share that same point of view, then you have every right to do it your way.

Many modern-day inspirational writers tell us to take the reins and take control of our lives. Our past do not have to define our future. But here's the stark-frozen truth: Our past do affect us in every possible way even when we do not want it too, even if we fight it. A time will come when we tire of fighting for the very essence of our lives which is our past and when that time comes, we realize that we are back at square one: confused, utterly dejected and humbled--by the fact that we really can't fight the forces of nature, we can't fight what made us.

Take our fears, for example, they weren't given to us by fate; they were given to us over time, gradually, little by little. Our fears are the fruits of our past. Our fears spring from what have been deprived of or taken from us. I for one have this fear of intimacy, of commitments, of attachments to anyone or anything. This is because I was deprived of a childhood where I could cultivate relationships without fear of having those relationships taken away from me. I always expected things to go away or to be taken away from me and for good reasons. First, I was left with a broken home when my father became a shipman overseas. Second, my mother left my brother and I under the care of our grandmother so she could leave the city and start a family with her new beau and her new baby. Third, I was transferred from one school to another because money was tight during those days and we couldn't sustain going to private schools, even the more inefficient ones. Fourth, I was left to rot in the streets and sell my soul to the dogs. Okay, that wasn't me. That was from one of those crappy drama series. *clears throat* Fourth, my mother took me away from the home I've come to love only to bring me to a drunkard step uncle who would purposely make my brother and I drool as he gives my half sister munchies, and a stepfather who would pull my mother's hair and beat her black and blue. Fifth, I was forced to leave my first best friend, my first clique, my first crush and other firsts because my step father got relocated.

I could name a few more but that would probably take more minutes and more web space. The important thing is I've proven my point that sometimes we just can't help but be acted upon. I know that if I want to, I can fight my now natural tendency to not give a fuck about other people's concerns, birthdays, shining moments and all that crap. But I'm tired of fighting for that heart that I could never ever have. I've fought hard all my life and sometimes, things are just not worth fighting for...things like a caring heart.

Toast: Sliced bread heated and browned.

Life is all about being forced to get kicked out of bed by one's own common sense, getting the water heater to run, making toast and racing for work.

Making toast on its own deserves the merit of merits of each day. Perfecting one's toast equals perfecting coffee hour. A perfect coffee hour means a lesser evil version of me in the office. A lesser version of me in the office means a more appreciative boss, happier colleagues, tolerant mother, generous siblings and, all in all, a day in la-la land.

Tomorrow's worries are, as usual, casting their ugly heads in my now pained arse. There's nothing more delectable than indulging in a scene of a runaway worker, making it to the airport on time and swiping credit cards for a badly needed ticket for paradise, knowing too that runaway worker is insane for swiping cards about without any idea as to when she will ever be able to pay.

Tomorrow's worries I'll leave for tomorrow. I'll let today be.