The Backlog Blues

First published on my Instagram feed.

I'd like to believe I've always been the busy type, a master of multi-tasking, a pressure pusher, go-getter, goal-driver, trooper woman. But I've not known busy or loaded or up to my neck with work until now. Since moving to La Union, I have not had a simple day of stillness, not a pause for rest. I'm always on my feet, my hands perpetually picking up things, reaching, removing, putting things back. And my mind is in Manila, the coffee shop, the room upstairs, the beach break, the point, the bank, the market during the white hot afternoons in town. And my belongings do not belong in one place: shoes here, books there, memories reshuffled everywhere.

But despite what sounds like a grueling grind, I don't feel the least bit weary. Tired is normal but temporary. Overtime, arbitrary. I'm being swept away by the whirlwind of days, and for once, things like busy and too much work taste sweet and nice.