I'm bored. As in B-O-R-E-D with a capital B.

There. I said it and finally uttered it out loud. Work is boring me to death and my pseudo attempts to finish my independent study don't help either.  It's just that I'm boxed into this routine for God knows how long already and then I still wonder why my life has transformed into one big snooze fest (yup, how dense can I possibly get, di ba?). 

I get up in the morning, get to work, write things (mostly templates), apply warm compress and medications for my aching tendons, "pretend" to study (hahaha, yun naman eh) and sleep and do the same drill over and over and over again.

Buti na lang, mama L and bitterness are there to spice up my life every 6'o clock o di kaya'y mas maaga pa. Di ba adelia? They make life funnier and more bearable. wink* wink*

music: la di da di dah....

Silence is truly comforting especially when we make a living out of making noise.

from pico eyer's "the eloquent sounds of silence"

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1101930125-160855,00.html

adapted from wysgal's post.

"We have to earn silence, then, to work for it: to make it not an absence but a presence; not emptiness but repletion. Silence is something more than just a pause; it is that enchanted place where space is cleared and time is stayed and the horizon itself expands. In silence, we often say, we can hear ourselves think; but what is truer to say is that in silence we can hear ourselves not think, and so sink below our selves into a place far deeper than mere thought allows. In silence, we might better say, we can hear someone else think.

Or simply breathe. For silence is responsiveness, and in silence we can listen to something behind the clamor of the world...

Silence, then, could be said to be the ultimate province of trust: it is the place where we trust ourselves to be alone; where we trust others to understand the things we do not say; where we trust a higher harmony to assert itself. We all know how treacherous are words, and how often we use them to paper over embarrassment, or emptiness, or fear of the larger spaces that silence brings. "Words, words, words" commit us to positions we do not really hold, the imperatives of chatter; words are what we use for lies, false promises and gossip. We babble with strangers; with intimates we can be silent. We "make conversation" when we are at a loss; we unmake it when we are alone, or with those so close to us that we can afford to be alone with them.

In love, we are speechless; in awe, we say, words fail us."