There WAS nothing

I haven't written a single blog post for May and June because there were things I had been busy about. Or there was just nothing. Nothing at all.

To stick to the busy excuse, believe me that I had gone up (or down) to several towns, did a lot of research for a writing assignment that I haven't yet finished, attended meetings and interviews here and there. I've also gone home and attended to some important business there. And I also took care of a job interview in a university, where I sat in an interview, did demo teaching, and after a few weeks, was informed ('regrettably,' as per the university HR officer) that I didn't get the job. So that's it, apart from all the other boring blah.

On the other hand, I also had pretty much a great time with a lot of wonderful people -enjoyed the rides going to and coming home from the towns I visited (and the moving window pictures on the buses and jeepneys), watched movies, went on walks, ate at different restaurants, ate lots of ice cream and crepes and blueberry cheesecakes, finished several bottles of beer and glasses of tequila as well. There was a trickle of parties all through May which I somehow enjoyed, a couple of them maybe I enjoyed too much, because I got drunk horridly. It will never happen again. And then of course, there were those times with :). It would be unfair to say I did not enjoy those.

Anyway, after all those running around for a whole month, it's like as if I was done living. Like I have reached my quota for having fun and for doing essential things such as going to work/doing work, like any mature, responsible person ought to do. I was attacked by this terrible case of anti-social behavior that pinned me on my bed for hours every morning, on my chair in front of my computer for several more hours after I've woken up for the day, and then a few more hours staring at nothing, punctuated by instances of going to the CR or to eat and drink. All I wanted to do is read a book or watch a movie or post comments on my Facebook page, or chat with whoever online. And in all instances, I don't know if I was even completely 'there' at all.

I don't know if it's a seasonal kind of disorder, or if it's any disorder at all; or maybe it wasn't and it was just a terrible case of good ol' bout of laziness. But it's crazy. I was going crazy about being that crazy. I've never been this inutil! A whole month and a week running?

There was just nothing. Nothing at all. No poems, no drawings (maybe one which is too dark and sad, and which I might post if I feel morbid enough), no diary scribbles (there were only dates, and what I did on those dates, and maybe timelines and short anecdotal comments on encounters with you-know-what). Other than that, nothing more.

I was like a zombified me. Only my basic survival and instinctual drives were working.

Hopefully writing in past tense would mean I'm through with all that and that I'm ready to rejoin the living world.

Hopefully.