I suddenly realized how serious my work in the office is. I’m not saying I was not serious  before, but the throbbing veins of the work in the office seems just now sinking in to my skin. More.

Ha? I’m part of an office atmosphere? My mind is screaming . . . Not just a regular minimum wage employee in one of the offices in Makati that will be soon wrapped up in an entrepreneur of a facto-retroventa trend after 10 years of operation (welcome to the Philippines!) . . . but an office that is a component of a larger than life constitution. (Sorry, I prefer to be incognito)

As epiphany occurred, an action of sincerity must come along as well. Not that I was not being sincere before . . . just more of this time.

In a panicky, tense, confusing situation, one has to be relaxed . . . Relax, even when you spill a glass full of ice tea in the table during lunch.

Relax. Even in an intense office situation about miscommunication is happening between colleagues.

Relax. Even when you’re with someone who keeps on changing her mind for every last two minutes in the middle of the road that will ask you the most complicated things.

Relax. When you are being caught unarmed with defense mechanism when you encounter people you are not in the mood to talk or even to just to see.

Actually, what I wrote here doesn’t have anything to do with Kitkat. I was just reminded of it when me and Marshmallow were eating earlier an Asian produced versions of Kitkat, the white and the regular. Mental note: original is still the best buy! Consider the local rip-offs when you are really in extreme destituteness.

Ah . . . yes, I remember Kitkat has an advertisement campaign before

“have a break, have a kitkat”

– well, the topic of relax is not completely lost with that imported brand of chocolate bar, right?

I have a strong feeling of an importance of having and keeping a blog. The goal is not yet certain and definite, but I’m sure there will be if direction of my thoughts will be definite. As for now I just want to be here and see the world, observe, and rant about it.

My header explains my fondness of having an old-fashioned mailbox, I find it very creative and simple. It signifies that there’s someone waiting for another to reach out in the other side of somewhere . . . somehow, it just seems magical. But I don’t know,  perhaps  growing in a third world country where fashionable mailbox where not included in a domestic tradition, it compelled me perhaps to get fascinated the first time I ever saw one.

I should have my own.

I should be blogging . . .