I am a bored journalist.
Every morning I report to work and I feel, well, bored. Well, I work for a national newspaper, so I just ring up my editor and say, "sir, nasa Batasan na ako,
sir." I find a place to sit, fire up my phone, and file my first dispatch for the day.
Like in previous days, all members of the House of Representatives were at the Batasang Pambansa today, at work in drafting laws that, they say, will benefit all Filipinos.
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I'm sorry for whatever I will say about you in the next few paragraphs. It's not you, although perhaps it is just my dislike for the weepy, needy Peeta you portrayed in the Hunger Games trilogy
. I mean, maybe that's really how he is in the books - although I have friends who've read them who will tell me that it isn't - but, well, you know. I'm sure you're a nice guy who does the best with what he's given.
That said, Josh, I really don't like you at the moment.
That's the key phrase. At the moment.
You see, you're now the guy of the moment. You're now every girl's ideal guy. Anyone who's seen you in the films - and yes, before you react, yes, I have seen the films, partly because I have to, and no, I have not resisted watching the films because it's based on what is essentially a young adult book wrapped around some dystopia, a description that, I admit, is best suited for the first book - anyway, anyone who's seen you in the films is suddenly in love with you.
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And over and over again, you are told that you should not be jealous of others; that you should be happy with what you have, because, hey, at least you have something, and you have what you have now because some cosmic force up there has decided that it is enough for you. And, if you do deserve more, then you will get it, someday, somewhere, somehow. In time.
You think about it, and you agree. Well, yes, I do have something. And, actually, I am better off now than I was before. Those stupid months I spent sulking in the corner, wondering why nobody is willing to take a chance on you. And now I do have someone, and I am happy.
And you are happy. But then you see what everybody else is up to, and you don't anymore.
Why, you ask, do people choose to connect to other people rather than you? What makes them so special? What makes you so despicable? Did you do something wrong, somewhere, somehow, and suddenly you've been marked for life, like the way HR departments tell other HR departments that you fudged your job application and should thus never be hired? Did someone spread a malicious rumor about you, one that's very much untrue (which explains why you never heard of it) but very much potent, and suddenly you've been marked for life, like the way government officials publicly pronounce the evils of a predecessor they seemingly wholeheartedly supported just a day before?
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In the tradition of me being so behind the times I should never attempt to work in the media, I only just found out what the hell TL;DR means.
Well, it was two months ago, when I learned what it means from Anna
. Well, sort of learned, because she only dropped the term in a conversation, and I searched for it on the Internet - as you do with most Internet-speak, or whatever they call it nowadays - and learned the meaning behind a term I don't see anybody use, at least in my case.
"Hindi na uso yung
'writing' part of blogging," she told me, as I bemused the idea of having an online group that is called - yes - "Bloggers Who Write". I mean, don't bloggers all have to write? Even photo bloggers have to write. A picture may say a thousand words, but it can be any thousand words, and every reader needs to be told where to go. Anyway, back to Anna. "Majority of 'famous' bloggers blog to get free stuff now, sadly."
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I was reading an old blog entry today - well, I always read my old blog entries, mostly to just look back at how foolish I can be, but this time I was reading back to stop myself from repeating myself. (I know I said "myself" write in that sentence fragment. Did I just repeat myself?) I know, I tend to write about the same things over and over again, and lately I've been a bit paranoid about whether I've succeeded in finding a fresh approach to stale topics, or if I'm just relying on synonyms.
Anyway, that old blog entry, I wrote it a year and a half ago
, and it was about how people seem to hate negativity. Judging from how I wrote it, I was pretty passionate about it, because I ended up writing it as a letter to myself, from a hypothetical someone who's had enough of my complaining. So passionate, in fact, that I ended up pulling stuff from, you know, the things I often complain about. This being seven months before I got myself into a relationship, it ended up being my constant loneliness.
I don't want to sound like that writer who finds himself explaining the way he writes, but, well, here I am. That really was just a critique of how people are being achingly positive nowadays. I hate that. Specifically, I hate the lack of balance. And I decided to write about it by playing up that perceived fault of mine - my never-ending cynicism. I mean, even up to now, when things are, on the surface, supposedly going well, I am still cynical. I don't think it drags me down; I think it keeps me on my toes. I mean, okay, sure, when things get terrible it does drag me down, but on most days it keeps me on my toes.
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