baguio breather

Lately it's been work, work and more work for me, and the migraine and loneliness that come with it. I wish I'm on a beach somewhere soaking up the sunset, sipping wine and dreaming away, and not infront of the laptop in the darkness of my brother's room, typing, swatting mosquitoes, feeling terribly low. But the hell with it. Wrong for me to complain, is it? After all this means money in the future, and bums like me can't be choosers, right? Right!

Indeed, my foot's in a trap and there's no escaping it. This thought is making me cranky as hell. Just ask Charmaine, my wife. Tense moments last night around bedtime, with me playing the role of an asshole. I got poison in my system, yes. Baguio the antidote? Hopefully, because what I think I really need right now is some fresh air, a strange place, and dozens of miles away from anything that is familiar.

Hopefully again, I'll emerge from our three-day, two-night romp in the City of Pines this weekend feeling brand new.