:: bed bugs bite ::
I miss writing. I know I am not a good writer. So, if you mix it with my absence in the blogosphere, a huge ten-folds of unattractive writing. Especially to the seasoned and those who mastered the craft of writing, I could hear your loud cringe-filled tones while reading the first paragraph of this online journal post. Obviously, after reading this paragraph, you might as well read something eye-worthy.
Oh, self-deprecation, how I missed you.
Less than a month left before I turn thirty-tree. Man, a lot of things have happened. Marriage, child, improv, breast implants. I am way better than Shoemart, I got it all for you. Not to mention the constant verification of my age. If you ask my age out of nowhere, it’ll take me fifteen seconds to give an answer. Is this really part of the thirty-ish generation?
In all seriousness, it is really hard to write nowadays when time is super important for a fledgling father like me. Yes, I don’t even know what fledgling means, but it sounds good; like eating at Sofitel’s Spiral buffet. You know what, the most time-consuming part of parenthood is putting your child to sleep. I don’t mind aching muscles. I don’t mind non-saliva resistant skin. I just want my child to sleep the way a normal human does.
I know you’d probably give me a bunch-a links on how letting your child sleep peacefully without waking up in the middle of the night and would opt to play Dance Central at 2 in the morning. I actually found a way, to make her sleep, recently but I want something more, more than Vanessa Hudgen’s love for Zac Efron in High School Musical. An appropriate minimum of eight hours of sleep is absolutely a want and needed.
Again, I miss writing. This is just some random ramblings I want to remember.
Bea, dowter, I shall make bawi when I get old. I hope you have the same patience for your dear old daddy.
I love you.