My Blog is Not My Happy Place
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Carl told me never to bring work home. And I knew that rule way before, practicing it successfully for the first few days of my Makati Ho-dom. But then Friday’s big steaming pile of Deadliest Deadline Doodoo plopped right down on my head and made me the saddest fuck for the next two days.
If I write one more synonym down for “premium” or “savor,” I am going to scream. *And thus, the future echoes with Margie’s hapless cries.* I write slow, you see. It takes me an hour or two to feel happy with a paragraph. Nay, a sentence. And, apparently, I am a copywriter as well. These two facts do not result in my wellbeing. They do, however, result in whole days of anguishing over whether the use of “wellbeing” was convincing enough for my latest draft of brochure copy.
Whenever I feel harassed, I try to do what Adam Sandler tells me to and go to my happy place. And as of late, my happy place has been the clothes store. My wardrobe has grown. Exponentially. So now I can sport a nice top while feeling harassed and poor, hooray hooray.
Ten minutes before the Project Runway re-run, my other erstwhile refuge. Sige, tara, one more synonym. Let’s see. Which one, which one. O, sige, eto na lang.
posted by marguerite @ 7:59 PM
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