People think the writing profession is all about the world of glamour and fame. Actually yes it is somewhat true but then I view it in a different way. In a different analogy.
I never thought of being a teacher since I decided to embrace the writing vocation. I’ve been used to the scribbling life for seven years and teaching was actually another way for me to impart what I’ve learned but what’s greater in my heart is still my passion for creating by writing.
So yesterday night as I ended my last class, a fellow teacher Randy called me up to another co-teacher’s (Teacher Mel’s) cube (which was actually just at the back of my space). Apparently, Randy said they heard me while I was talking to one of my students Dorothy and from that conversation, Mel learned that I was also a writer (I don’t mind anyone hearing my convos of introduction to my students including Mel since I don’t talk to him too much). I don’t know what I am going to feel when he told me through Randy that I have nice credentials to be a teacher—since I was a writer.
Frankly, I felt a bit good after hearing that but I still did not believe it for real for it could just be a form of flattery. What I know is I am a writer. I am supposed to write and not to teach. I don’t need to talk because as a writer, it’s my mind does the talking. Writers teach by writing. It’s actually better since I am able to express my ideas even if I don’t have to talk. Just like a SWAT agent, I could be silent but in my silence I am a sharp shooter in communicating my ideas.
I guess this is the price that I have to pay for being deadma to a co-worker. Seems like I'm being punished for my behavior towards the person in a different way.
Friday night I can vividly remember seeing that coworker in my dream. In that one, I woke up in the morning to see the person in the usual red shirt standing in the dining room. And my behavior was in anyway not different. I still ignored him the same way that I do whenever I would see that person in the office. Yes, that coworker was the reason why I became a mad dasher. Mad dasher because the person makes me run away (though I cannot run) at the sight of that human being. Still, I don't have the enough guts to speak up with that coworker. But I don't feel anything towards him. FYI.
Raining in the afternoon, I arrived so early for work to the surprise of my co-teachers and the headmaster. I actually did not think that I will be early for work today. I left the house at 3:30 in the afternoon to drop by the drug store downtown to buy some sleeping tablets and food to bring to work.
I had another episode of insomnia again last night. I tried sleeping off but my body is acting crazily that I was not able to sleep the whole day and right now as I type this blog, my eyes are starting to get watery and itchy and I'm yawning too.
Add up is my monthly period and these revengeful hormones that actually don't cooperate to my schedule. I went to the restroom a few minutes after dinner to throw up, it's something that happens to me when this time of the month arrives. Sure they are all giving me a hard time that I feel like going home now instead to take the pill, lie down and rest.
While I feel the discomforts of loosing sleep and the effects of my period, I am looking forward to a well-deserved rest. It really is hard to be a woman and I hope this will pass.
I'm a 30-something Millennial Tita from the Art Capital of the Philippines and I express what's on my mind (may it be a good experience or otherwise) through writing. Feel free to explore the fragments of my mind which you can find in this blog.
Oh and forget the formalities. You can call me Glaiza!
