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I don’t think that blurb makes sense either. Sorry?

Writer’s block is still kicking my ass, so I’m resorting to stealing now. Well, not exactly stealing. See, I’m going to repost something I wrote 4 years ago. Something I submitted to the editors of Peyups. Something they published, hence something I draw great pride from. This is eLBi Life, my supposed “love letter” to UPLB (please excuse the Taglish):

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Telecommuting. Working from home or another location outside the regular workplace. Gas prices being as high as they are now, it sounds like a good idea, right? And for someone who drives to work and constantly rants about gas prices and how the big oil companies are screwing the little guys, I should be a big fan of this. But I’m not. I still prefer the daily commute instead of teleconferencing, telemeeting, telebrainstorming, and teleflirting. There’s something about separating home and the workplace that makes me squint whenever I see a job posting on Jobstreet that includes the term “telecommute”.

There’s something about the “alone time” I get when driving to and from work. It’s different from the “alone time” I get when I’m in my room or when I’m on “the throne” having a cig. It’s the cool breeze that hits me in the face while I’m on the expressway. It’s the rush I get when I cut someone off just because I can. It’s the chance to sing my heart out until my voice gives out. There’s something about getting the chance to sing “Narda” and “Elbi Nights” without thinking about someone telling me to shut the hell up.

There’s also something about meeting your co-workers face-to-face. Yes, it’s better to have your supervisor tell you what you’re doing wrong in ALL CAPS via instant messaging rather than have him/her shout at you in the workplace, but that’s boring. Not to mention you won’t be able to flirt with co-workers using eye contact. Online flirting just sounds stupid and lame to me. How can you read body language when all you can see is a cutesy pic on Friendster or a blurry headshot on a webcam?

Today’s instant/text-messaging, internet-surfing, teleconferencing society may be open to the idea of telecommuting, but I still don’t buy it. The separation between home and work is still one of my needs. Gas prices be damned.

My family is my home by default. It may not feel like it sometimes, but it’s my home, first and last. But what I’m looking for is that home where even when faced with a great unknown, I would not falter. No fears. No lies. Just peace. Just love. Just… home.

I spent 7 years of mirth, merriment, and mayhem in college. I declared UPLB my second home. My second family. Even after graduating, coming back to dear ol’ eLBi was like coming back home. But coming back home these days is not like what it used to be. It’s… different. These days, whenever I come back there, I feel indifferent. Like something’s changed. Like I don’t belong in that familiar place. Like it’s not home anymore.

The Ex recently called. A couple of years ago, the warmth of her embrace was home to me. The passion of her kisses. The care in her voice. The love in her eyes. Home. But now, she’s just a girl with a really cool nickname. The Ex. Pfft. I couldn’t come back home to her even if I wanted to.

So where or to whom do I come back home now? Like that idiot Hansel (brother to that witch-killer Gretel), I just left breadcrumbs all over my life, expecting that they’ll lead me back home if ever I get lost in the thick wicked forest of the world. Breadcrumbs that became dinner for the birds. My sick and sad world’s birds. And I feel I have yet to meet The Witch. And I don’t have a Gretel to save my sorry ass. I’m so totally screwed.

I should have used white pebbles.