Chasing Dreams

I missed church last Sunday. My macbook, which also serves as my trusty alarm clock, got pulled off its plug and drained off its battery while I was sleeping and by the time I woke up to realize what happened, it was already too late to get ready for church. Coincidentally, my back-ups (read: wake-up calls from people I expect to occasionally check on me by default) seemed to have forgotten about me too. Sure, I had two text messages on my phone from curious (yup, curious, not necessarily worried) friends asking me where I was and why I wasn’t in church. Unfortunately, text messages can hardly wake up this sleepyhead that I am.

As I mulled over what happened there, just because I live to over-analyze things like that, I couldn’t help but think how I could have died that morning and no one would’ve known [insert sad background music here]. My family and everyone close to me would’ve been in church, I would’ve died alone, and no one would’ve known until my body was cold and decaying.

Yep. Leave it to me to have a minor alarm clock failure and end up thinking about my dead and decaying body.

What I’m really trying to say is, I’m finding more and more reasons to affirm my decision to bid good bye to this *cough* exciting independent life, the most recent reason being, not having someone/something other than an expensive alarm clock to wake me up in the morning and to check if I’m still alive and breathing. However shallow that sounds.

It served me well, this full, life-altering independent life I got to experience in my younger days, the first two years with housemates (what my Dad thought of as a trial period-slash-OJT of sorts) and the last two years on my own. Moving out of the confines of my parents’ house has taught me a lot of things I wouldn’t have learned otherwise, I always say. But now I have arrived at the inevitable reality that one can’t really live on her own too long. I suppose it’s different for everyone as far as the length of time it takes for her to realize she’s done with being solo is concerned, but I do believe that if someone must choose to live by herself, she would eventually need to either (1) share her apartment with friends; (2) get a dog, (3) get married; or (4) move back home. (Notice, of course, my gender bias.)

I won’t in a million years recommend that you get a home-based job while living in isolation and keeping a long-distance relationship at the same time, trust me when I say that these three don’t mesh well together — way too much self-inflicted isolation, lol. Still, under whatever circumstances, I know that independence has done me good. And now, I’m happy to have come to this point in my life where I’ve experienced independence to the fullest that I’m ready (and excited!) to come back home. I’m counting the days.

OAN, I’m selling some of my furnitures. You want? c”,)

Lastly, I really should update this blog more often.