The Quarter Life

In the burned house I am eating breakfast.
You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast,
yet here I am.
--Margaret Atwood, Morning in the Burned House

 

            ♥ On some days the above quote made sense. Would anyone know the symptoms of quarter-life crisis? Cuz I think I have it. Or maybe I have manic elation and manic depression. Haha. Gelo was asking me about babies and children and what are the odds that we aren’t getting any. I told him tons. Now, I am scared of children and of marriage. And those things. They have this huge permanence. And I do not care for permanence and consistency anymore. It’s odd how you realize when you grow up; you become a person who is only for yourself.. Lately, it felt like such.

 

 

And on the happier scheme of things.. it’s payday! Haha. Gelo got me a pair of white pekpek shorts from guess. I could’ve died for the denim ones that posh would wear but, my legs aren’t beckham thin. They look like huge portions of hams! I lack sleep. I wanna strangle some of the trainees. I promise there will be attrition in this wave.

 

Leaving with a girly quote::

 

“We could never understand why the girls cared so much about being mature, or why they felt compelled to compliment each other, but sometimes, after one of us had read a long portion of the diary out loud, we had to fight back the urge to hug one another or tell each other how pretty we were. We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that the girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn't fathom them at all. We knew, finally, that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them."


The Virgin Suicides, by Jeffrey Eugenides

 

Happy weekend!