Blank Page for Sunday

Sundays then: walking and shooting pictures before the sun kissed the western sky. Photo taken at New City Hall Grounds.

By the moment I had started hitting the keyboard for this piece which I intend to keep short, I already pressed the green light. In sixty minutes, I managed to write two press releases which I hope will land in newspapers by tomorrow. It is five minutes past high noon and my Sunday has just started.

Sundays are synonymous to relaxation. For me, Sundays like this is a luxury, given the very erratic schedule that my job requires. I could’ve sworn I heard my heart crack. Long before this milieu, I had the knack of turning boring Sundays into that TGIF-feeling.

This meant endless movie marathons over popcorns and greaseless nuts, blogging, strolling in the mall, biking, reading a good book, watching thought-provoking documentaries, stroking gibberish doodles, surfing the internet in a coffee shop or sound-jamming while writing. But most of the time, sleeping—especially when you hear the sound of falling rain outside your window. But that sound sleep only gets disturbed each time you hear a bald man shouting/emphasizing “Susunod!” or “Abangan!” on a TV show that doesn’t buzz at all.

That was before. And I miss those days. Life smiles at us, and all we’ve got to do is smile back. Now I am forced to remember and write about it. Memory is a wonderful thing. It is good to remember where you came from, so you know exactly where you are standing and where else you’d like to go, or what things you would like to do.

This written piece in once-a- blank-page is one of the evidences I had a very good Sunday. This piece with a long playlist of good music is enough.

I wish you days like this one.

Live life. Love life.

Louie.