85 - I knew a girl called Jade.

There was a time when I had the chance to date this beautiful girl six years ago. She was Australian-Chinese, and we initially met in our first year of high school. When you spoke to her for the first time, you would know in your mind to place her in the 'cool' clique at school. She simply had that charm about her, in the fragrance of her hair, the apparent sincerity of her smile, the chipmunky cheerfulness of her voice, her whole aura, a kind of biological femininity that was especially crafted for luring male companions, for enticing men, but her kindliness and immediate congeniality not necessarily indicative of you two strangers turning into friends, or becoming something more.

I, on the other hand, went into high school open-minded, and lacking any predetermined social standing. I was one of those kids that had the potential to end up a studious nerd, a lonesome bully, a suicidal emo kid, a regular Joe, a friendly Tom, an outrageously gay socialite, a muscular jock, or one of those guys that are just as clingy as their girlfriends and that never hang out with anyone else because both members of the relationship are too mutually preoccupied with having to attend to each other's needs and wants every minute of every day.

It was conceivable for me to be that last guy - to end up with that gorgeous-looking girl, to hang out with her and her two younger brothers all the time on yachts and on beaches, surfing, building sand castles, summering with her family on the coast of Maui, Costa Rica or Cebu, to make out during romantic movies and feed each other popcorn, to hold hands as we walked through the school corridors and sat in classrooms, unafraid of displaying our sick, mushy love for each other, to have amazing secret sex in parks and on rooftops that would make anybody jealous if they heard about it, to curl up next to a fireplace on long winter nights, playing Monopoly, drinking hot cocoa and exchanging funny anecdotes, or perhaps sharing our thoughts on what life would be like if it were drastically different from the one we were living...

Despite all the images I could conjure up now, it isn't the way it turned out. The details aren't necessary for you to know (as I am ashamed of said details), but in the end, Jade and I (and everybody else) all attribute the non-existence of this relationship in history to my own foolishness. This could-have-been pairing is just one of those situations that belongs in dreams and alternate realities.

84 - I know I'm a bad blogger.

Damnit, it's 3:20 in the morning, but I've got to write something here. I must write something everyday, anything, any little thing will do. And I must read other people's blogs - at least ten - everyday as well. This no-blogging-because-I-now-have-a-job-with-insane-hours thing is getting on my nerves, and I don't want to be the cause of any distress (albeit, only towards myself).

There has been a lot on my mind lately, but I shall bore you with that next time. Right now, I just want to say that life is pretty routine, and I didn't really want it to be so, as I had just graduated from high school.

Instead of waking up everyday to go to school, coming home late and then going to bed, I now wake up everyday to go to work, come home late and go to bed. It's the same thing. Do you notice that?

Only school doesn't take up fifteen hours of my day.

One hour to get to work, then thirteen hours of work with a three hour break somewhere in the midst of that, then an hour to get back home, followed by one hour of settling down when I get home, and two hours worth of time for me to do useless, unproductive shit on my computer until I fall asleep. So, altogether, that makes...

18 hours, leaving six hours for me to sleep. That is, if I actually do spend only two hours worth of time doing meaningless stuff, and if I also go home straight away after work.

I know all this talk about my new bartending job is boring blog material, for both this blog, and Do you hate it too? I know. I know that. There are bigger topics that I could discuss, but I just don't have the energy, I've been awake for forty hours over the past two days. I also feel a bit nauseous, as we bartenders tend to down a few drinks towards the end of the night just to celebrate another day of work surpassed. I actually don't want to drink - believe me, but my coworkers peerly pressurize me into the celebratory spirit.

Oh. This is now long enough. End.