fix – The Diary of The Deranged Writer

Notes to Self XXV

Last night, I was in a reflective mood while I was scrolling through my drafts. Then I found something worth filing under the Notes to Self category. It was a quote I would always bring up on my social media accounts and one of my old main blogs (which preceded The Diary), but I never really explained it personally. Since I’m still in a reflective mood tonight, I figured I should bring it up one more time and finally expound on it.

The quote? It’s a line CM Punk (who was slowly growing out of The Nexus and had entered his Best in the World era) said to Mr. McMahon during a contract negotiation on an episode of WWE Raw in 2011.

10-Minute Warning CXCVI

So, what should I write about in my first Minute Warning post of 2026?

Firstly, yesterday, I worked overtime until 2am. That’s my first overtime of the year. In my current job as an administrative assistant, the first week of the month is usually the busiest. This 2026, I would like to work more efficiently so my family business can grow (most especially, financially). If that means burning the midnight oil to finish crucial tasks, I will gladly do it, and that’s what I accomplished yesterday.

Secondly, this 2026, I need to fix my sleep schedule again. Frankly speaking, recently, I have been waking up later than I want to. Yes, I woke up later today again, and I have a perfect excuse for that: I worked overtime. However, I need to go back to waking up at 8am, whether I have an early workload or not. I also have a perfect excuse to wake up early on Tuesday mornings, which is the livestream of WWE Raw on Netflix Philippines every Tuesday, 9am. The morning Raw viewing is so important that it’s already written in my planner for the next several weeks.

My ten minutes are almost up, but I have to go. See you in the next post.

Header image: cottonbro studio of Pexels. Edited in Adobe Photoshop 2025.

10-Minute Warning CXCIV

What I truly dislike is when people tell me not to cry.

I’m quite aware that not every problem can be fixed, and everyone makes mistakes. But whether that problem can be fixed, or I end up crying over spilled milk, I should be allowed to shed tears. I learned a long time ago that I can’t just bottle up my sorrow and anger, and I need to express myself (not in a destructive way, of course) to feel catharsis, to feel better. To certain people, why am I not allowed to cry?

If I’m not allowed to cry in a place that I thought to be safe, fuck that shit. Maybe I should look for a safer space elsewhere. And if I can’t find another safe space, it’s a good thing I have The Diary.

One more day before my birthday.

A part of 14 Days of The Deranged Writer (2025).

Header image: Hans of Pixabay. Edited in Adobe Photoshop 2025.