on with the proposal

The month’s ended and still no manuscript for my research ūüėÄ

That isn’t really a very encouraging way to start a post ‚Ästor to end the month.¬†No surprise there. I haven’t really really spent serious time on actually writing it.¬†Well, it is how it is. February won’t be the same. I will get that proposal ready for my adviser this February. Meaning, until the last minutes of February. Thank goodness it’s a leap year. I get a day more ūüėÄ

I did finish the revisions for another output. Three years and finally, it’s laid out. All 30 pages that sums the past years agony. The draft was due some two years ago.¬†I just hope my thesis proposal won’t be anything like that. ¬†It won’t. It must not. Not an option.

Got more articles to finalize and layout by tomorrow. I can do that. Somehow. I can deliver this one on time. I should be saying that with more conviction, really. Hah!

I wish my aunts were here to do the reminding scolding. Put some sense into scattered thoughts. I really should be taking this more seriously. I’m not?!¬†Emphasis on more.

February just cannot end without my proposal ‚Äď bound and submitted.

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waiting

I’m two days behind schedule but I felt that sense of relief when I walked out of the building at about eight last night. Good things there’s an event in the building otherwise, I wouldn’t have finished printing the report. I would have wanted to sleepwalk back home so I could recharge and deal with the next deliverable. This is what happens when one completes nothing during the weekend. I so¬†deserve this.

If only I could detach the back and neck so I could give it some massage. If only I had saved enough so I could treat this back to a massage. If only the receivables would have registered in my bank account then I would have savings. If only the agencies would promptly pay for outsourced materials development, I would have something extra for a massage. Really now? Okay, I would have paid a visit to the salon and get a massage.

It seems to have its own pulse, the neck down to the upper back and shoulders. Sleeping would be a challenge once more, I guess. Tomorrow, I hope I can deal with backache already. Payday just won’t come soon enough.

girls and comfort room

I just wanted to make it clear. I was irritable at the time. I was cramming for a deliverable and I was hungry (and it was way past lunch time).

A school/office comfort room is a shared¬†comfort room. Space and time are premiums for this types of spaces. So I enter the CR and found three college girls inside talking more than the average volume one would tolerate for conversations. I guess that’s what being glued to headphones does to this generation.

They were kind of blocking the way to think there were only three of them. The room can accommodate up to seven people comfortably not counting the three individuals inside the cubicles. I get that they using the mirror on the side and at in front of the sink. They just had to use it that long? Okay they can. With other people using the room?! Can’t they just compose themselves for a bit?

I go to the sink and find their stuff cluttered in all three sinks. A glass on the first one, a bag beside the second sink, and an umbrella on the third one. If I were a greater bitch, I would have accidentally splashed some water on the bag while they took photos of reflections of themselves. I needed to freshen up, wash my face. I thought I could come back later.

I did come back and they were still there ¬†– about to leave. Thank goodness.¬†It was only then that they realized there was another person in the room. A few apologetic glances. Or perhaps my face was already expressing what I wasn’t able to with words.

It’s not a hangout.

la… lala… lala…

Sometimes, you just need to be more forgiving especially to yourself.

Getting the job done doesn’t always depend on how hard you force yourself into something or how many times you’ve had a guilt party for not meeting a deadline. It takes a lot to trust oneself. To believe that when the brain stops processing, it’s just on the recharge. Trust yourself enough that your not the kind of person who enjoys not doing anything. You are not one to miss deadlines out of habit. You are not someone who’s ¬†about work.

Guilt can be a good motivator. But that’s not the best (or the most healthy) drive to get things done.

[un]common sense

So I ordered an iced¬†version of a basic coffee item. Their basic coffee came in a bag. Think of your average tea bags, only its contents are finely ground barako coffee beans. Since my order was the iced¬†version, the coffee bag was served¬†floating on a glass¬†of cold water. Good luck with getting any coffee taste from this “iced barako”.

The staff aren’t really known for their neural computer processing capacity but is common sense too much to ask?

out

I can’t seem to finish anything within the confines of the apartment. I’m not sure I’m happy about that.

There’s a lot of distractions. There’s the stack of unfinished books or that external drive of movies or the old DVDs or simply play food hunt from the cupboards to the fridge.

I did want to dissociate the place with work. I’m rethinking that. Now I have to find a coffee place to go to every time I need to have something done. It can get expensive especially if I need to work long hours. A 70-peso cup of cappuccino won’t last me an hour. I’ll need a couple of that to complete rewriting this draft I’m working on.

The coffee’s good and the chairs are comfortable. They have kind and accommodating people manning the place. I just wish they could maintain the place better. There are flies around. I could see smudges in their glass door. They just opened for the day.

The design of the place is warm and comfortable. The music selection, I can work with. Have I mentioned I like the chairs? Plus they don’t charge if you were to charge your laptop. There’s just one corner for recharging though. But if it’s free, I’m not complaining. I’ll just have to come here early. They’re open until midnight, a good two hours worth of work more than what I could get from the other shop.