The Secret of Starbucking

Friends envy about my hip writer job, that involves a lot of Cappuccinos and club sandwiches, plus a lappie and British India Pashmina on the round table. But, being harrassed by too many offers can sometimes crucify you. Or, crush your plans.

Like, the other day, I was about to start my writing for my school project, the Campus Newspapers, but then Elba called again for changes in my copywriting, after just a few, Magazine called and asked me if I could drop by for a new column brief. Dammit, I tell you, I havent laid my fingers on that article as yet, because too many things were bee-ing around me like I were some kind of roses, whatever.

I hate the stress. I was always complaining, whining and lamenting about my imperfect life as a column writer, but the moment I felt like throwing fit to Kel, I stopped. Kel is a man, and because of that, I think he has more important things on hands then worrying about my deadlines and little writer job.

Now, what's the satisfaction?

I have no clue at all. To me, it's just money and Chanel, Dior freebies. Karin was asking me if I ever feel accomplished when thousands of readers (more than thousands actually) read me on the magazine, my answer was, no. I don't think that ll ever buy me self-fulfillment.

So, here I am, sliding into the comfort at Starbucks, stirring my Hot Chocolate, ranting about my stupid non-fulfillment job.

Maybe it's time to have a stop at Fendi for some perk-me-up pussies. At least that helps, if you must know.

P.S. Oh, I am such a soulless person!