Another journal Something more public-friendly this time God, I wonder how it'll be like, keeping two of these things? To whoever is reading this, I'll spruce up the layout soon. I guess it's fine the way it is, but if you know me, you'd know that I like everything I own personalized (as much as possible anyway). Why settle for an imposed style, when you can create your own?

Let's see, what happened today?

Oh yeah

First day on my new job. Another ad agency. I stayed there for only a couple of hours, though. I officially start on Monday, but I guess they were short on writers (they didn't have any), and they had projects due for approval. It was strange. I had my own desk. AWAY FROM EVERYONE ELSE. Is that how they treat newbies? Hehehe!

Nah, I think that's how it really is. The only other writer is also the executive creative director, so obviously he has his own office. The graphic designers are grouped together in one room; the Accounts department is in another. So where does that leave me, the only writer? Yes. In a single desk, somewhere in a corner, next to what I suspect is the supply cabinet. Hehehe! But hey, it's fine with me I think I'd work better isolated anyway, I always do.

It was fine, I guess. The set-up is much better than that of the last ad agency I worked for. I guess I was somehow surprised by the number of jobs I was asked to do the moment I got there. In the middle of doing them, trying to beat the deadline (which was the next hour), I began to understand why they needed me to come in.

I think there was one moment in the midst of that madness where I wished I talked to Christine and asked if I could work full-time for them, instead of freelance. I know it wasn't the greatest way to start things off. Hehehe! I guess I just miss writing and editing. What I do in that agency is more selling than it is writing. Even the advertorials aim to sell. I was looking for something to spark the intellectual side of me, I think. It was almost a craving, and I think it started last night, the moment I referred Carl to the writing/editing company. I started thinking "Darn, why didn't I ask to be made to work full-time?" But it's ok It's not like I can't do the job. Hehehe!

Whew! For only a few hours of work, I'm awfully tired.

Currently reading: Dance, Dance, Dance (Haruki Murakami)
Currently feeling: drained

It was Tuesday, I think, when my mom told me what happened. One of the guards stationed at the entrance to our village was shot to death by drugged-up tricycle drivers. It was his third night on the job. I think it happened at around 2:30 in the morning.

Evidently, my dad, being the Homeowners' Association president, had to rush to the scene and examine what happened. He, along with a few others, had to clean up the mess staining the street . . . and what a mess it was. There was even word that the news crew was there.

It's funny, because this used to be a very peaceful neighborhood. Until recently, people never had to worry about these things. Now people are carrying weapons, my brother almost got mugged (for his account, click here, made me laugh), and someone has spraypainted frat symbols on our wall. And from the looks of it, appointing guards doesn't work, because they end up sprawled in the middle of the street, blood coming out of their gunshot wounds. It's a shame, this is a nice neighborhood. It's almost like something out of a Dr. Seuss movie (well, not EXACTLY, but it's close, I think ).

So what now, we all lock ourselves up in our houses and not come out?

Currently feeling: hmmm . . . dunno . . .

Pinilas na kita sa pahina
ng aking buhay
Ngunit hindi ko maitapon
ang papel, 'di ko mabura
ang mga kataga.
Naisatitik doon ang mga nakatagong
damdaming labi ng ating huwad
na kahapon, ang mga saya at luha
mga pasakit at tuwa
Tila isang tulang walang huling linya
pero meron,
meron,
meron...

[note: I wrote in Filipinoooo! ]

Why, why NOW? Why now, when I have so much to say?

I just read my brother's blog. I knew I could never trust his "I'm always happy" thing.

My heart broke after reading his "No, I'm not Macho" post. I wanted to go to his room and talk to him about it, but I know my brother. It'd be better for me to take a subtle approach. We're kind of the same when it comes to dealing with pain: we keep it inside and pretend it's not even there, until we crack and start asking for help in any way possible.

I have an idea as to what brought up his sudden shift in mood, but I can't be too sure about it. I know I'll get to talk to him about it eventually, but at the moment I so badly want to write him a poem.

Damn writer's drought.

Please let him be ok, please. I've seen him break down only a couple of times, but none of those ever hit me as hard as his post did. It's troubling me to no end.

My brother's hurting. And God knows I can't let that happen.

Currently feeling: worried