Hi there. This long overdue entry stayed a draft for over a week because I wanted to write and attach my book review at the end. But lately the reviews of J.K. Rowling’s recent book has inspired me to write that separately. This weekend. Promise. I’ve been swamped by work lately. So because this blog needs some desperate updating, here’s the story behind the story.
Sometimes I feel that my lifestyle retrogrades my age. Now my self-imposed and preferred curfew is much earlier than the time I used to fight my parents for in high school. I have the liberty to get wasted every weekend, without explaining my hangover the next morning to anyone but my bed. I have the freedom that every teenager/person-who-still-lives-at-home longs for, but nowadays I long to party with myself, other interests I’ve put on hold, movies, series, or with books instead.
So in less than 3 months I have finished 3 books. Either I don’t have a life, or this is exactly the kind of life I love but never put in the effort to live before because I was always busy doing something else, distracted by something else.
As much as I love my social circle back at home, it’s liberating being anonymous in a new country because there’s no obligation to anyone. I decide when to crawl out from underneath my rock, where the solitary beacon of solitude keeps me warm.
And there’s no one to make me feel bad about it either – not a Facebook feed of all the events I missed, a shared personal history, or self-absorbed promoters saying how awesome a party is until well, the next one. There’s always a next one. I started saying no even before I left the Philippines, but being away makes it so much easier to. It gets better with practice. (This is coming from a typically yes-person btw.)
I would know. I used to be her.
It’s easy to be fooled by a girl with a carefree attitude, smiling at the possibility of everything, when truthfully she’s actually quite bored by the same old scene, every, single, time. I’ve always craved my introversion — a part of me that gets eclipsed by my talkative alter ego, a person that most people don’t get. Not that they have to either.
Not saying that I don’t enjoy my alcohol of course (because oh, I do), the occasional nights of debauchery and meeting new people. Perhaps I outgrew this stage too early, too fast, but now I’m enjoying the acquaintance of my introverted side (yes, she exists!)
Sometimes I hear my twenty-something year old conscience being snarky.“Don’t be lame,” she quips. “So what?” I retort back. The upside is that I finally get to do more of what my teen-self should have been doing more back then: stay home and read!