Now I resort to blogging as a way to sustain that flickering desire to write. Much as I would like to spend a week writing beside the heater while watching the autumn leaves fall, I have to earn the cost of the insulation and other immediate needs. To make matters worse, due to my Dutch lessons which scrambled the order of words into something that cannot be translated in English, my spoken English has been severely affected while my writing skill is slowly being gnawed away by the complexities of the Dutch language.
It is one in the morning, one of the rare times that I can write without disturbances. Had my eyes not bothered for two days, so much that I have to make an appointment with the doctor tomorrow, I would not have one hour more to stay in bed tomorrow morning. Still, I am not staying up late to write. I’m actually doing a television report, one of the things I do on the side to at least feel that I can write and tell stories.
I actually have a thousand stories to tell, the puppets of Prague, the thermal baths in Budapest and Slovakia, the beautiful Black Forest and their quirky hats, the alcohol of every country I visited, the difficulty of an expat life and learning a new language, the lack of restaurants open for lunch in the Netherlands, the heartbreaks of failing the theory exam and the challenges of controlling a car, the realizations of being a Filipino in another country and appreciating my values more and others stories that can only sit in my mind at this time.
I miss writing. If only it is that easy.