Ah, March; how do I describe thee? You came bold, brazen, and ridiculously hot, and I, with not one bit like it. The excitement of the beginning of 2016 surges away, disappearing like a faint, happy memory in a distance. I am now reminded to “WORK!” in bold and caps lock, because the sun is up, the dreams are high, and I shouldn’t be lounging about my little imagination because I have life to attend to.

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The real deal.

I don’t recall any extremely-happy memory this month, but there’s no extremely-bad one either, so I might as well declare that this is one of those so-so months where I get to live like a serious adult, with a monotony of emotions, trying to push herself to get somewhere without actually pushing, or getting somewhere. Yes, please. I talk in circles. I also like getting nowhere. Surprisingly, even as I go round and round my axis, it seems to get bigger at every turn, so that’s probably my luck. Probably a good favor by the universe. Or the Maker of it.

Thank you for listening to my sarcasm, talking.

I do have a few things accomplished this month. One, I made my second round of draft on my original novel, which doesn’t sound too original at all, being slimed up with too much of my doubts, my what-if-this-and-that, and some unexpected plots which I happen to dislike with the whole of my heart. I wasn’t depressed, but the harrowing of the emotions to explore each main character is definitely tiring. Maybe it’s because I wanted them to look and sound a particular way that I tend to limit the possibilities of their existence. Maybe because I had expectations, which they haven’t met, yet, or ever. Maybe my expectations should just shut up so I can focus on how beautiful they are when raw and weak and vulnerable and just plain real.

Well, I must tell you, I saw the ending a dozen of times, and after writing it off from the first draft, I felt that nothing should be changed in that part. It was my dream ending for them. It was their end game. Now, getting there can be quite a process!

March took most of me, hunched back to my desk and then to my couch and then back and forth, alternatively writing things by hand and by buttons and trying to make sense of it all but it didn’t, on the whole. But the nice things are, I got to know more about my heroes and heroines. And I tell you, my girls can kick butts. This should be otherwise a largely feminist story.

I’d love to put color on my characters too, because, to tell you, they’re not white. They’re us. People of many races. As much as possible, I’d like to incorporate many traces of color into my characters, because that’s what Filipinos are: people of different origins.

Am I talking too much about my novel here? I’m sorry.

I can’t think of anything else happening to me except that. Life pretty much went by like a daily wrestling of working to make money and processing what everything else is. Rarely had any time to go out, despite the Easter season, which, I might say, I proudly survived! Aside from that, there’s my ogling, mood board hunting, regular tweeting, tumblring, post-PiliPinas 2016 debate complaining, piano playing, priority finding and 11:11-ing. To sum it up, I have lived in this corner with a mountain of words rushing to get out of my chest, but their only escape is the tip of my fingers.

Did I had a good time, March?

I did, tyvm. You may not be extra-exciting, suspense-inducing, edge-of-the-seat thrilling, but you gave me enough time so I can go adulting, despite not being a word. A straight line, a serious grim, a monotony, that’s the right breeding ground for work, not for inspiration. And work is what I have to do now. Work is what I have to do to get that inspiration out there.

I’m grateful for you, March. You weren’t so bad. You weren’t so good. And you weren’t so hot. I’m quite troubled that April may send our house ablaze because of the heat, but I’m going to worry about that next time. Hats off to you. Adieu.