The Bitter Taste of Mocha

The problem with me is that when I call in sick and I am supposed to rest, my brain does not recognize the four-letter-word: rest. My body does, that is certain. But my associating neurons work double-time. I have to shove those little earphones both my lobes to get an hour or two of sleep.

A couple of years back, my daughter suggested I create a blog where I could write down the thoughts rearing to be out there. It was her opinion (and even her brother's) that I am living an 'unhealthy' life on facebook, what with all the rants I post. I told them then to leave me be because writing to me is my 'therapy'. So she told me, 'Mom, write blogs. That way, you have your therapy, and because you know you are writing something that will be read by other people, you will write properly (meaning there will be no curses). So I created a page via this free app and have been writing 'properly' ever since. Well, not perfect 'properly' but I try. 

After two hundred blogs or so, I have been getting pleasant feedback on my 'pieces' from friends, colleagues and relatives. Some of them even look forward to what I am going to write about next, as I don't have one type of 'pieces', I write from first-hand experiences. I write from the dumb and mundane, to the cerebral and deep thoughts, randomly. Sometimes I write about politics, but I promised an Uncle, and two of my bosses that I will stop the tendencies to be voicing out my opinions, unsolicited. They were worried about the implications of my 'pieces'. And my 'pieces' are quite lengthy, so only those who are really into 'me' and my antics have the patience to read in full.

Today, I am again starting to feel the beginnings of a flu, so the words I need to put down are struggling to leap out my brain. My fingers are on a rampage, they have to be on the keys of this tablet. I spent all day keeping the words in my thoughts, and kept my fingers off this tablet and only on the box of chocolates that was gifted me yesterday.

But I am going to let this very important thing out: I am quite upset that Mocha has a column with Philippine Star. Not just upset, envious really. How come I don't? I mean, really. Just because she has a great body does not mean that she is 'relevant', right? Or just because she is a staunch supporter of the President, she must be afforded that importance, right? But he is the elected President, and of course everyone must support him otherwise what kind of people are we not to? His office is the 'gel' that unifies us all. But, again, really. Just because he had a boodle fight with farmers does not mean she is to be admired for her pretentious display of empathy for my farmers? 

So there, it's out. My bitterness about that. Yet again, if and when given the chance by a fairy godmother to wish that I would be Mocha? I will say, 'no'. I don't mind having a body like hers, goodness that would be pretentious. But I will say 'no' because I claim to have a half-century of 'a very meaningful, productive, praise-worthy life', as dearest Boboy put it. And the column, I don't even know how to write news, for goodness sake. How much more a column? I will stick to my blogs, thank you very much. (That still sounds bitter, sigh.)