What Ifs
It's 7:30am in the office, and it's pretty much deserted (people usually mill in at about 9am). There's isn't anything to do, so after I've downed my coffee and checked if my classifieds came out right in the papers, I read blogs.
When I was young I really wanted to be journalist. Okay, I wanted to be a scientist, particularly someone studying about rocks as igneous rocks have always fascinated me, but then my mother started taking us to the library and exposed us to the wonderful world of literature. Since then I wanted to write.
I was 13 when I wrote a short story about a haywire school fetus in a jar who wanted revenge from high school students who kept shaking it (if you think you know this fetus, you probably do, it's in the chem lab). My Mom "accidentally" read it and was apalled at the whole concept. It's not that I wanted to write horror stories, it's just an interesting story I concocted (which explains why I didn't do well in high school).
Anyway, I've given up on the dream two years later, for a couple of reasons. I don't think I fretted over it too much: I always said I had the spirit of a preppy highschool cheerleader, I bounce back. I still love reading. I write journals, now I do blogs. I don't do it for a living, which is just as well. I do it because it's personally therapeutic.
As everyone knows, I'm a huge fan of Jessica Zafra. She's someone I've looked up to late HS-college. I used to agree or believe anything she's written about. Now that I've grown older (hopefully wiser, but that remains to be seen), I don't agree with her most of the time, but at least she's who's unconsiously helped me get through the years and one who proved that writing can take you places.
It's 7:50am in the morning, and I'm sitting alone in my office desk in a deserted floor. Sometimes, you can't help but wonder, would I be doing this if I took the hard path? Would I be the peniless failure people predicted me to be if I did it? Or would I have turned out better, stronger and incredibly dazzling?
PS. Dazzling is the way to go.
When I was young I really wanted to be journalist. Okay, I wanted to be a scientist, particularly someone studying about rocks as igneous rocks have always fascinated me, but then my mother started taking us to the library and exposed us to the wonderful world of literature. Since then I wanted to write.
I was 13 when I wrote a short story about a haywire school fetus in a jar who wanted revenge from high school students who kept shaking it (if you think you know this fetus, you probably do, it's in the chem lab). My Mom "accidentally" read it and was apalled at the whole concept. It's not that I wanted to write horror stories, it's just an interesting story I concocted (which explains why I didn't do well in high school).
Anyway, I've given up on the dream two years later, for a couple of reasons. I don't think I fretted over it too much: I always said I had the spirit of a preppy highschool cheerleader, I bounce back. I still love reading. I write journals, now I do blogs. I don't do it for a living, which is just as well. I do it because it's personally therapeutic.
As everyone knows, I'm a huge fan of Jessica Zafra. She's someone I've looked up to late HS-college. I used to agree or believe anything she's written about. Now that I've grown older (hopefully wiser, but that remains to be seen), I don't agree with her most of the time, but at least she's who's unconsiously helped me get through the years and one who proved that writing can take you places.
It's 7:50am in the morning, and I'm sitting alone in my office desk in a deserted floor. Sometimes, you can't help but wonder, would I be doing this if I took the hard path? Would I be the peniless failure people predicted me to be if I did it? Or would I have turned out better, stronger and incredibly dazzling?
PS. Dazzling is the way to go.