...has literally been a blur these days.
Fast-track, muliple images of the three-ringed logo, the microphone, dead bodies and police stations, politicians and their you-listen-to-me demeanor, programs on the AM radio where anchors use voices from who-knows-where, the electronic newsroom where scripts go, the crew pick-up, the numerous blouses going in a sorry heap at the foot of the bed, numbers in time-codes and video cuts of significant sound-on-tapes, the cellphone alarm clock that animates in an absurd dance, the scratch pads of forgotten scripts, pentel pens and idiot boards, meeting clients for paid coverages and morning guests and would you like some coffee ma'am? maybe today's paper?, wikipedia and elusive trivias and why is the banana called the athletes' fruit?, emails and emails for the newspaper assignments, mp3s and mp3s that go on and on while midnight catches me still sitting in front of the computer.
I mean I could go on and on with a doodle straight from my brain that says, Where am I?
I'm not particularly regretting this blur of schedules that I got myself into, but I believe I've been missing out on a lot of things lately.
Like films and books. And the arguments I have with my younger brother back home (surprisingly heartwarming once replayed in the memory). Or the internet (hehe :), lame addition to the list).
So yeah, maybe I miss myself these days.
And when that image, me missing myself, pops out, it makes me feel all groggy in a certain kind of way. That grogginess that tells you, take a side-trip and escape somewhere far.