bulletposts: the 2nd person edition

- You wake up slightly annoyed; another dream -- without meaning and weight -- goes unfinished. The window to your left tells you that the sky is celebrating your short-lived slumber by sending out gray clouds all over. You realize that you've been longing for your old bed, but you just can't sleep there anymore. A few more days of waiting should do the trick.

- You're in a car, and you tap the window while you hum inside your head. The song won't go away even though you played the hell out of it the night before. Not bad -- at least you remembered. The aircon desperately tries to please your forehead, and you thank it for the effort.

- You see billboards of people with a thousand winds blowing over their faces, their hair playing tag with everything it touches. If you see someone like that in real life, you'll probably laugh your ass off. Or not. Maybe.

- You're one of the few people who get to see the new place in Benavides/Buenavista/Bienvenido/Basta ganun Street. You realize that you've been to that place a couple of years ago, back when some newspaper shitheads offered hotel rooms (located at the same road) to the 'young journalists of 2005'. Ah, good times. Haha.

- The place is... yeah, definitely a place. Lots of work to do, you admit, but nothing a good scrubbing won't fix. When the 'big move' was announced, you thought that it'll be perfect to have your desk near a window, but now you realize that it's probably not a good idea; the condominium at the other side of the road looks like it came straight from Chechnya. Depressing.

- You're a certified yuppie/Makati boy come November, and you don't like it one bit. You sometimes wonder if you can file for resignation as early as October 1 just because Makati is a dangerously expensive place. You sometimes wonder if you'd be better off in a normal ComArts-related job (Advertising, PR, publication), and you still don't care about the pay. You wonder about these things because you're still unsure if the industry where you work is stable enough. You wonder these things because you've yet to prove your point, and you're getting old. Everything should happen before you turn 30, and by next March you're already 23. Your breath becomes shallow, and you feel dizzy.

- You might decide to stay in that staffhouse the company will provide. Might.

- You're in another shallow, dreamless sleep while heading south. Not much to say here, you know, 'cause it's just the road you always pass by every Monday and Friday of every week.

- And so you arrive to Alabang to pick up the 'thing' -- you know, the 'thing' you're not allowed to talk about because of that draconian NDA (hehe). So no pictures, obviously. It's nothing like you expected it to look like: it's just a box with cables sticking out of it. And you thought the 'thing' is made of rainbows and friendship and, of course, sweet, sweet love.

- After seven bulletposts (written in the unusual 2nd person perspective), you finally decide to stop wri--

Meet Sid

Sid is a piece of shit. Literally. He's the main character from my super-secret game proposal. Hopefully all goes well, and that this shit will do wonders for the world to see. Like, you know, swim the seven seas (and find his true form).