Feels like home.

Use "home" 4 times in a sentence:

Home isn't home when the home you've gotten used to reached its home-staying time-limit.

I have to admit, staying in Tacloban again feels right, but staying in my Dumaguete flat also feels right.
Somehow, one of them feels "right-er", if there is such a word, and unfortunately, it's not where i'm at. One of the bitter things about graduating from Silliman is having to leave my comfort zone. For 7 years, Dumaguete has been my haven. I like being a recluse, and would rather waste my day away writing than talking to people/patients. Which leads me to the question: Why did I enter a profession wherein a large part of the job hours involves talking to people? I could write notes for people all day without complaining, but talking is a different matter.

I wonder if that's the reason why my mom is in the acadeem. Maybe it is. Maybe I should go into that too, become a professor, like her. An emotionally detached person talking about topics that require emotional detachment. Like research. Yes, I think I would like that someday.

I think i'll stick to writing in the meantime. I have to finish my 10,000-word job. Fun! Maybe you don't think so... But I do, in a weird way. I'll make this passion my home for now.


I'll go back to Dumaguete, someday.