So, it’s twenty fifteen.

The last month and a half has been exhaaaausting. Man oh man. I’d find myself getting home at nine in the morning–no, not because I turned around and forgot something, but because I actually spent all night at the office, working. Our department is currently plagued with backlogs and crazy deadlines and well, nights had to be spent in there. (If you see me and wonder why I suddenly have eyebags and acne, here’s your answer.)

When I was still in school, I’d often see my brother passed out on our couch at 2, often 3 am, eyes shut, mouth wide, snores building, ya get the picture. The poor chap, I’d think. I promised myself I would never let myself look like that when I finally work. But well, shit, now I don’t actually look like that, I look even worse!

I got home at 3 in the morning one night and mom greeted me by saying I was working two days per day, which didn’t make sense, I mean, how is that possible? And then she reminded me: we’re only supposed to work eight hours a day. I worked sixteen. Ho. Ly. Shit. She was right. This was crazy. This is when I began to pity myself. My mom has been telling me to resign, sending me Jobstreet ads. Her only girl, commuting at three in the goddamn morning, almost every morning for two, three weeks.

But the worst is over. I think. I hope. I clocked out at 8, 9 pm the past few days (which is still overtime, but I’ll take the pm over the am). I’ll be fine. Probably.

In other, less depressing news:

This acrophobic girl cliff-dived. Yes. I went to La Union (via a seven-hour bus ride) with my coworkers sometime last December and jumped an actual cliff. It wasn’t that high, otherwise my knees would’ve trembled, but still. (I actually have a video, but I’m not posting it because my jump was terrible and worrying and just, wrong). Hiked for around two (felt like five, tbh) insaaaaanely long hours before we reached that cliff (I fucking hate hiking, y’all, but I can’t seem to escape it, sigh). By the end of the hike I was a disgusting, haggard baby (yep, warning: take me hiking and I turn into a baby slash lampa slash kawawa in need of assistance. Fun fact, actually: you learn who the true gentlemen are when you hike). That was probably why I temporarily forgot about my fear of heights–I just badly wanted to feel the fresh waters.

Didn’t come scott-free, though: since my jump was awful and I landed on my thighs, I had a hard time treading the waters and sunk here and there (which was terrifying because god knows how deep that lake was). So, yes, again, I needed to be assisted. (Once more: not a goddamn hiker slash girl scout slash mountain person.) In my defense, this was how bad my left leg turned out and had to look for two weeks:

It was so worth it, though. I don’t want to hike ever again but I wouldn’t say I wouldn’t cliff dive again. The feeling was inexplicable. I felt fearless for a few seconds there and I’m so proud of myself. Before that day I never would’ve pegged myself to do something as crazy as that!

So obviously, that was the highlight of the trip. We also went to the beach though, stayed in the hostel (Flotsam and Jetsam, a place for hipsters, pretty much) and bonded, played frisbee, etcetera. It was a nice, relaxing trip! Was lovely to be able to not think about work for two days.

And then it was Christmas. First to party was our company on the 10th! I’m still not a party person, to be honest, but I got by. We ate, played a few games, exchanged gifts, raffled prizes (I got a super cute yellow toaster! Everyone’s immediate reaction was that it suited me, /giggle), played a round of beer pong (I had my first sip of alcohol ever), and danced (to Britney Spears. I must confess! That my loneliness! Is killing me nooooow. My jam, tbh.)

Time pretty much flew by after that! (Except, okay, not really, since after that was when the haggard work days started.) Next thing I knew, it was 2015!