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September 16

I liked how the man in Stephen Shore's photo looks at you. It's piercing. It's brimming with intimacy. I made it as my new phone's wallpaper. I am typing this while it's raining, the caffeine in my system wants me to do a billion things, but my eyes are tired. I'm at a point where everything can happen if I allot enough hours on it: get a scholarship, a promotion, a new job, a nice study table for my son, a nice lawn, a great article for my blog... the irony is I don't get to do a lot when I have all the time in the world. I tend to achieve more when I know I won't get much sleep, or when I know that after this task there's another task, and another. This rainy weather reminds me of the blue hues of afternoons in Bulacan, and it stultifies me, paralyzes all the will in my body, and I just read books, type cryptic things on a typewriter smoke weed and while away. I'm glad I'm not in that place anymore.

September 20

Now I know what I like about A Little Life: it's about dreams, about dreaming, about that burning passion to achieve dreams. I realized this at a bus ride home from gym, reading and imagining the life of Jude at Greene Street, and then pausing to imagine what my life would be. I am planning to apply for scholarships abroad in hopes of uprooting my family to a country that can offer a better quality of life. Where would I be five yeats from now? I'm not sure but I should do whatever it takes to reach that dream, while I'm young and have the energy, that intense desire, for change.