Meeting My Fellow Bloggers

I’ve been on WordPress since 2009, and that really astounds me. What surprises me even more is that I’m publishing another blog entry that isn’t a month apart! Not many things in my life are this consistent then again it’s impossible for me to stop writing just like how it’s impossible for us to stop dreaming.

Anyway, let me talk about meeting my fellow bloggers. I’ve been following this blog called Say Cheese! for the longest time. Recently, he posted that he met some fellow Filipino bloggers through a Facebook group. So I signed up for the group and saw an FB event for a second meet-up at a restaurant 15 minutes away from me.

I took the train, asked a mall-cop directions to the restaurant (he told me it didn’t exist. Mhm), and found them. I thought that we were going to talk about the backend technical aspects of WordPress as a writing platform and discuss possible avenues into creating a seamless way to bring more content to people. But no, we ended up talking about everyday life, which is as interesting as what I wanted to talk about since meeting new people means learning new perspectives.

I’m not really good with names, so I can’t list them down here however they were all very nice.

Continue reading “Meeting My Fellow Bloggers”

Der Klang: Kaffee bei Drei Uhr in der Morgen

I am french press
I am french press (Photo credit: nyoin)

The following is a journal entry for poetry class. We were tasked to write something about our favourite sounds. Hence, the title of the post The Sound: Coffee at 3 o’clock in the Morning. I’m taking up German, so please correct me if I’m wrong :D

There’s something about doing things extremely early in the morning; I don’t usually do things this early. Sleep is an essential part of me. I’m up at this hour because I needed to get things done, but my eyes are falling in on themselves. So, my best bet is to wake myself up with some cups of coffee. That right, cups of coffee, not a cup of coffee. Since 3AM is still pretty quite, what I hear is clear as crystal.

I pick up my step-ladder, trying my best not to make too much noise, but the metal legs still lightly scrape the marble tile floor, like a family of squirrels arguing which nut should go where. I climb up three steps and reach for the cupboard. I open it, and the wood and hinges disagree with each other. Any louder, then they would match my creaky wooden floor in my bedroom. I grab my French press and draw it toward me, I hit some of the china ware, but just slightly, and small muted bells ring in the air. Continue reading “Der Klang: Kaffee bei Drei Uhr in der Morgen”