My ears are full, but my heart is empty.

After watching Standing in the Shadows of Motown, I realized how much of an ignorant I am about music. My knowledge in music is limited to The Beatles, Bee Gees, Air Supply, The Smiths, Hall and Oates, Pearl Jam, and some contemporary artists/bands like Elliott Smith, Jack Johnson, Augustana, Aqualung, Dashboard Confessional, and Yellowcard. My knowledge is nothing compared to musicians and people in the music industry (I guess?) I am totally ignorant. Until The Funk Brothers.

I am not really the type of person who is open to different genres of music. I guess, I only listen to the songs I love listening to and to the genres that kind of stuck in my head. RnB and Soul ,and Jazz and Blues are not included in my playlist. Though I like Mr. Postman, My Girl, and some of Michael Jackson's songs, I am just not into these kinds of music. Not really. Until I saw this film.

The film made me realized how much of a "fad" girl I am. Sure I like the Beatles and other famous Rock Bands during the old times, but I know little of what lies beneath them. Though I have read and watch various books and documentary films about the British Rock Band and the First Wave of Rock Music, I am still incompetent. I know very little. I should die. I should be crucified. Okay, that was just a joke. But get the point? I still have a lot to know. I still have a lot to learn. But overall, this film made me appreciate the RnB and Soul and Jazz and Blues music. I never thought that I would appreciate the sound of bass, drums, guitar, tambourine, saxophone, and piano combined. Well, until the Funk Brothers.

I guess, I should open my ears and my heart when it comes to music. So to anyone who does not have faith in RnB and Soul and Jazz and Blues music, watch this film. I guarantee you that you won't regret it.

The MRT Experience

After a very long time, I once braved the claws of MRT again.

It was a Saturday and yet there were a lot of people rushing in and out of the train. MRT never fails to amaze me. So there, I hopped in the train at around 5:30pm and was bound to Shaw Boulevard to meet my friends. I was beating the 6pm call time so I would not be late. But it seemed to me that I was destined to be late anyway. What happened next was beyond my control.

When I reached Ayala Avenue Station, I started feeling a little uneasy. I started losing my hearing sense on my right ear and I started seeing an episodes of black out. But overall, I was still a bit okay. It was only when I reached Guadalupe Station that the symptoms persisted. I could not breathe anymore and with every breath that I took, all I could say was "Fuck!" The people in the train looked at me, but I could not see their expressions because my vision was becoming a lot blurry that it was. I could hear a buzz on both of my ears, it was crazy. I could catch some of the words that people in the train were saying, but I could not make sense out of them. I told myself that I could go through it until I reached Shaw Boulevard, which is only one station away. I could still stand anyway. But boy, I was wrong.

Guadalupe to Shaw Boulevard Station was the longest MRT ride I've ever experienced. The symptoms were getting worse. I could not stand anymore. I felt sudden weakness and numbing of my hands and feet. I started perspiring like a basketball player. Then a concerned citizen advised me to get off Boni station (station after Guadalupe) first so that I could get some fresh air. I conceded to his advice. When I got off the train, everything went blank. I knew right there and then that I passed out. Though I could still hear some of the voices that were talking to me, they were all hazy just like how it was in some movie scenes wherein a character passed out. I could not reply to their questions. I did not have the energy to do so. I was helpless. And that was the worst feeling ever.

I do not know how long I was in the hazy state of nothingness. But I can remember that there are still some people who have the heart to help other people in need. With that, I am starting to believe in humanity again. And yes, I am not going to brave the MRT again. Not ever.

Old Songs and New Hopes

I stayed up until 3am this day, so that pretty much explains why I have two entries on the same date. I woke up at 11:15am (way too early for a Saturday morning!) I got hold of Sherlock Holmes beside me and started reading for I was too lazy move. I read some sentences until my mind drifted away from the book.

A sudden realization dawned on me. I am not a novelist in the making. I am an essayist (or much more like it than a novelist.) I wondered for some minutes to ponder upon that realization. It was indeed one of my golden moments--knowing, realizing, and understanding. So yeah. That was just about it. And I got back to reading.

Before long, I found myself being flooded with sceneries of London 1880s. It was until my phone rang that reality swallowed me again. So I answered it, talked to my mom and ended the conversation after sometime. After that, I decided to open the computer and Zenki. I gave up on Sherlock Holmes and decided that I will just watch some good movies. But then, the internet was so enticing I could not control myself from binge blogging.

That's why I am writing this. Right now, I am listening to Betterman by Pearl Jam, while Zenki is playing The Series of Unfortunate Events (the movie!) I wanted to write about how old songs make me feel good and hope for some more, but this entry is too boring.

I HATE NOISY HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS!!! I cannot concentrate on the things that I am about to do.

PDF first Before Books

I promised myself not to buy any book/s until I am done reading Sherlock Holmes Volume I and Volume 2, but then it is hard to control my impulse when it comes to books (though my addiction is nothing compared to Kristine Joy Valdez Patag, free exposure dude!)

Usually, I do research on what book I am most likely to read. On a normal basis, I just download a PDF version of the book or borrow it from a friend first. Then, if I find it to my liking, I will buy it. But recently, I tried buying some books without even doing my usual routines. So I found these

and bought them. A big mistake! I was disappointed at Once Again to Zelda. I had so much expectations on that book since the teaser was interesting and the cover was cool. When I bought that book, I thought that I would learn something that I would not be able to learn from the internet. But lo and behold! I saw Wikipedia as its source! As for the writing style, it is not praise-worthy. I think that some parts of it were plagiarized. I felt like I wasted my money on that copy. Nevertheless, it still looks good on my shelf.

As for the The Last Man Who Knew Everything, it is like reading an academic book. It is interesting, but it is boring. If you know what I mean. I cannot say much about this book though, since I am still in the middle of reading it. If I get past page 3, I will let you know. But for the meantime, I will pass it to my younger sister as her first reading material from me. While Bright Shiny Morning seems like a good read, but I have not opened the book yet so that remains to be judged soon.

I also bought To Kill a Mockingbird which is included in my reading list and Sexing the Cherry which is included in Tin's reading list. I thought of selling the latter to her since I just bought it out of whim and since it was on sale. (So please Tin, if you are reading this, I am selling you that book for only PHP99.00!)

I know I promised myself not to buy any book/s until I finish reading what I am supposed to read, but then seeing this book is urging me to break my promise (AGAIN!) I've already downloaded the PDF version (another addition to my reading list!) So I will just blind myself to death with a loooooong reading list to accomplish.

I should probably continue reading Sherlock Holmes now. Or else the list will just pile up.

Obliviate!

I will only admit it once: I am not really a fan of Harry Potter Series.

I know it is a modern classic already, but I am not really into it like any other people. I will not say sorry if it offended you that I am not as attached to it like any of you are. I have a read-and-forget attitude on books. Harry Potter is one of those books. I am not a fan, but I have read the whole series more than once (so let's make that twice.)

I have read (and watched!) it for one social reason--to relate to humanity. For one, reading/watching the whole series is like being updated to current events and not reading/watching it is equivalent to social suicide. That's common sense, I guess. It is a fad just like The Beatles during the 60s. It is a mania, and everybody and every single soul of this generation knows it. And not knowing will receive a reaction equivalent to "What era did you come from, dumb ass?"

I read it back when I was in high school. I remember that I still have to borrow the books from my friends in order for me to read it, because I had no intention of keeping them on my book shelves for the rest of my life (the dumbest excuse I could muster for being so broke) and because I really do not know who is Harry Potter (just like how I do not know 3D stereogram or Venus Raj.) So you see, I was not really updated with a lot of things back then (well, up until now I guess.) Most of the time, I was clueless of what my high school batch mates were gushing about. They were often saying unintelligible words that only they could understand. It was like they were speaking a different language from mine. I could not understand them. I could not relate. I always come home asking myself, "What is expelliarmus? Is it even included in the dictionary?" because my classmates often said that when they did not want to stand up and get their things. Only when I have read the books that I came to know the language they were playing. Then, I started to get in touch with the world they were living.

It must have been social pressure that led me to read and to watch the series, but for most part of it I was willing to. I am not a fan for the reason that I haven't memorized all the spells and characters and details in the series. I am not a fan, because I do not have the whole series of books. I am not a fan, because I can sleep at night without dreaming about my life in Hogwarts. I am not fan just because. I could list a lot of (petty) reasons as to why I am not a fan of Harry Potter, but doing so will just overkill and later on defeat the purpose. I am not a fan, but I do not dislike it. Actually, I enjoyed reading it. And maybe I will read the series again three or four years from now just to get a different perspective on why many people love it like I love Pride and Prejudice. Maybe then I will become a fan.

But for now, I will just stare at this set of Harry Potter series and drool. They are lovely. This picture is encouraging me to buy a copy of each book. A complete set will look good on my (future mini-) library of classics. Hmm. What do you think?

I am getting inconsistent with my previous statements. This picture is just pure awesomeness. Or maybe it has something to do with that Beatle figurine (or is it a Beatle?)

Nowhere Girl

I was young, naive, and stupid. I made mistakes I could never undo. I told tales of lies. I sought confirmation. I was young and I was lost. I was never part of anything. I was just a mere entity floating endlessly through the unfathomable depth of life.

So much of a dramatic introduction, I might as well drop it now.

How I spent most of my college life--broke, drunk, and elated. I miss those days when all I can think about was having fun. I miss my days as a juvenile delinquent. I hung around with my friends, cut my classes, missed my classes, and went to class a little drunk and zombie-like most of the time. I had the typical college life, so to speak. And yes, I miss my college life A LOT.

For that, I hold truism in the saying that, "There's a time for everything. It is called college." I do not know who said that, but whoever s/he is CHEERS!

Home is where good food is

I have been living with my older sister in Makati for almost a month now. At first I thought that I can survive living away from home (the far, far, far away kingdom of Rizal), but boy I was entirely wrong.

I remember keeping a list of pros and cons of living in Makati and living in Rizal while working somewhere in Makati. Of course, living in Makati gained all the pros there are: long sleeping hours, less expenses, near the office, etc. That's why I decided to give it a try. Yes, I have more time for sleeping and resting, less travel time, and more reading time. But! My big problem is food. Though there are a lot of food chains nearby my house, I could not bring myself to enjoy them. I am not picky when it comes to food, but there's just something in my Mom-made food that's not in any other fast food. Aside from that, I cannot eat alone. Eating alone is very depressing. And eating a so-so food alone is a lot depressing.

I want to go home. The cons do not matter. I want to go home everyday. I want good food, and I want to eat with my family. So what to do now?

Wet Socks. Dried feet.

I am not going to write about the recent hostage taking in Quirino. No, not at all. I am not going to blabber about it for the following reasons:

• Terror and stupidity are two words that I am not fond of.
• I cannot see the reason why it took the policemen more than 12 hours to take down the hostage taker.
• The policemen are (or should it be past tense?) stupid. And maybe that's the reason why it took (many of) them an awful lot of time to end that terrifying event.
• Some people are really sick, so there's no point in arguing (or even negotiating) with them. We cannot reason with depression/nervous breakdown.
• I cannot think of any reasons I would have to write something about it. Really.

So, anyhow... I already received my much-awaited package from a friend. Actually, I haven't seen the mail yet, but I made my mom recite to me the contents of the mail (since she was the one who personally received it). I am sorry I could not take a picture of its contents (but maybe soon I will LOLJK.) It has 10 DVDs in it. Most of the DVDs are award-winning movies of old time, and some are really hard to find like the Motown Chronicle. So yeah. Guess who's excited to see the package? Who's excited? Who's excited? Who's friggin' excited? 'Tis I! 'Tis I! Yey! More DVDs meant Busy and Productive Days Ahead.

On the side note, I think I deserve a guitar, a new pair of slippers (because Hachi made my pair of slippers as his teether), a copy of The Catcher in the Rye (or Mythology!), and a whole family size of Bacon Cheeseburger Supreme Sausage Pops from PizzaHut for doing a good job at being stuck in reverse.

I hope I don't get sick tomorrow or any other day. I hope I don't get sick. Period. I am feeling a little fuzzy now. I am starting to sniff like hell. And my body is starting to ache now. Oh no.

And oh yes! I had wet socks, but dried feet. I am thinking of making that as an idiom, but I still don't know what it means. I will go and figure that out.

Prayers Will Do

I could use some prayers now. And while I pray, I will let the The Smith's Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want play in the background.

An Open Letter to God

Dear God,

Are you still there? Do you still want to be my best friend?

It has been a long time since I last talked to you. I am sorry. I have been very busy with my life. You know how is it, right? I know you understand, but I know that you are hurting. I am sorry. The blame is on me. Mainly because I wasn't acting my age.

I do not want to be seen with stereotypes. Maybe that's the reason why I ignore you all the time. You are not a stereotype, but most of your friends are. Most of them are judgmental and self-righteous to the point of hypocrisy. They don't do what they preach most of the time. They'd like to think that they're like you when in fact they're not because they tend to be self-glorifying. And that's what I cannot stand. It has nothing to do with you, but sometimes it is just hard to say that you are my friend when I know for myself that I don't belong to your group of friends. It is hard to be out of place, if you know what I mean. I know that you have different kinds of friends, but still it's hard. I know that you have different groups of friends, but I was labelled to belong to that group of friend of yours (which I do not like for reasons stated above.)

I am sorry. I hope you are still my friend. I know I am stupid for ignoring you most of the time because of lame excuses I stated. I am sorry. I have been not much of a friend to you. I know it is hard to let this one pass, but your friends really have a good way of buzzing my top. I am sorry. You have been there for me when I needed someone who would understand me without even asking me what happened. Though sometimes I don't like how you can be so omniscient and all that.

That brings me to the reason why I wrote to you. My life has been a complete mess since the time I stopped hanging out with you (with you, not with your group of friends.) My life has never been the same. I screwed up a lot since then. I made wrong decisions. I took wrong turns. I tracked the wrong path. I paid a lot for the stupid reasons I had for ignoring you and setting you aside. After years of being a faithless wanderer, I came to realized that I once believed in you, that I once become your best friend. Then I realized that you are one of those few who really understood me. I feel awful now that I have come to my senses. What I did was wrong. Completely wrong (though I do not know how philosophers would say about that.) Why have I forsaken you when all I that I do not like are your friends? I am pretty much sure that you are not like them. So much not like them. I am sorry for being such an ass for the past few years of my life.

I am still finding my way to you. I have not seen you for the past few years. Maybe you already moved away or something. I do not know where you are residing now. But I hope that this letter comes to your attention, because I know how busy you are.

Until then,

Me

Pet Peeves 101

I am often an objective person when it comes to other people's antics and shits. But sometimes, I just get so annoyed at some little things that other people find irrational (Hey! That's why it's called pet peeve.)

1. People who walk veeeeeeery slow. I can understand the senior citizens, but a teenager with strong limbs and high energy? No.
2. People who block the way.
3. Intense Grammar Nazis.
4. Erasures on notes. I am sorry, but I take particular notice to handwriting and its neatness. So pardon me if I find erasures and intelligible writing offensive.
5. People who write on my notebooks/planner. I get very snappy when it comes to my notebooks/planner because they are my valuables. I can let a very close friend to write on my valuables, but it is only on rare occasions.
6. Self-glorifying people. I hate people who say/point out that what they do is way better than what other people are doing. Does demeaning other people's job make them a lot better? I find myself guilty of this crime sometimes, but I am trying to change the habit of lol-ing at some call center agents who are Grammar Nazis and so mayabang (because they can speak the language) but fail on delivering well.
7. Seniority. Some people/systems uphold the value of seniority. I understand it sometimes, but it is just too much when some people/systems tend to disrespect the neophytes.
8. Impolite elders. Oldies tend to be know-it-all creatures. Sometimes the way they speak to the younger generation is just too much. Most of the time, they are disrespectful of my generation. During those times, I just want to shout to them that it is their generation that raised us. But that would defeat my principle on individuals capacity to think critically. Or maybe it would not. I still have to figure that.
9. MRT.
10. When people become moody and inconsistent. That's just annoying.

Ten Reasons to be Happy

I feel awful today in a depressing way (I think that is redundant, but that's exactly how I feel.) I am depressed for reasons I do not want to disclose (yet). But then I know that I still have reasons to be happy.

1. I got my diploma and TOR (transcript of record.)
2. I had the chance to be at UP Manila again, and to see old faces, and to feel okay.
3. Four new books for only PHP 180.00 (Well, I only bought these books because I wanted to feel less depressed.)
4. One of those books is Prince Caspian, which means that I am close to completing The Chronicles of Narnia. I only need to get The Horse and His Boy. Yey!
5. We have a dog now! He is already 8 months old when he was given to us last Monday. Quite old, if I may add. His name is Hachi, but I like to call him Hachi P. because he is Panget for ruining Leonard The Throwpillow (which is five years old). He is a Shiba Inu.
6. I had two Jolly Hotdogs.
7. I have Haruki Murakami's eBooks. Sorry for not buying the real books, I am already broke.
8. I have two new (lola) bags and two pairs of shoes sponsored by my Tita. Yehey for vintage stuff.
9. I am Asian!!! I do not know why I am including that one here. Fill-in reason.
10. I am thinking of going broke all the way. Like real broke. I certainly need a new phone. Okay, that was just a joke. I just can't think of any other reasons to be happy. Oh! Now I know. I am home!

Streetlights. Headlights. Stoplights.

I was inside a matchbox. I was rather big for the box, but for some weird reasons, I was inside it. I supposed that was my world. It was brightly lighted by a neon yellow streetlight. All I could see were things beyond my comprehension.

I saw flying Siopao. Lots of them. They have small wings like those in Mirmo de Pon. Their wings have neon pink and neon orange streaks on them. They have no lips, but they smiled at me. They have no eyes, but they glanced at me. They have no ears, but they heard me when I murmured to myself, "Siopao cannot fly. It shouldn't be."

I saw swimming books. Different kinds of them. Some of them were To Kill a Mockingbird, The Awakening, Sherlock Holmes Volume II, All the King's Men. Pride and Prejudice and In his own write. They were swimming in a pond of strawberry jam. They were swimming aimlessly. Then, I saw All The King's Men waved its cover on me. It was a horrible moment for me. As he waved his right cover, it dissolved in thin air colored emerald pink (if there was such a color!). Then, his left cover attempted another greetings, but it got soaked by a gush of peanut butter. His pages drowned in the depth of that strawberry jam.

I saw running numbers. They were bumping into each other. With each bump, a new combination began to exist. Like that of 6 and 9. They was the third to the best numbers product ever when 69 made it to the "Ten Most Famous Numbers of the Year." It was a puzzling sight. All the numbers were running like mad with their attachable/detachable legs.

I could not make sense of my world. It was colorful and bizarre at the same time. No wonder my life had been in static nowadays.

PS

I have no idea why I wrote this while in the office.

"High with Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds"

Let's chase the words before they slip away.

Nobody reads my blog entries except from some friends (three friends to be exact). It is not always that they read it, because my compositions can get wordy and dull and because they have no time. That's just fine with me. I prefer it that way.

I write for the sake of writing, not for popularity. I write for myself. I write for the sake of my sanity. I write to exorcise the demon in me. I write to let my mind relax, because I tend to over analyze things. I write, because I am not much of a good speaker. I stutter a lot, and it is only through writing that I get my message across people. I write, because I have a problem with pronunciation, and it is only through words that I get to be sensible. I write for the betterment of myself. I write without intending to be popular. I write just because.

Writing is solitary for me. My thoughts and words are my entirety. So I like it when only few people read what I write. Perhaps you are wondering why I keep an online journal like this if I prefer few people would know what I write. It is as simple as the fact that there's nothing wrong in coping with technology and stuff. I'd like to see one day what I wrote. The old school writing (pen-and-paper) has more soul. I concede to that. But even papers and ink can get washed away by time.

However, you must not think that I have not thought of publishing my first book. Much as I like to have a fewer readers, I'd love to have my writings be published. I'd like to remain anonymous yet known to some. At least. Actually, I have taken much time to think about my first published book.

My first published book will start with "I saw Death." and will end with ""It was my death." or something like that. It will have 300 pages, but no other words will be written aside from the beginning and the end. The "middle" pages will remain blank. That's how I've thought of it. Then, it will become a movie of some sort. Its movie adaptation will be a 2-hour show with nothing but the narration of the starting sentence and the end thought. In short, my first published book will be a two-liner book. Just like that.

Or I do not know. It is still early to tell anyway.

Insensitivity and Fear

I am afraid of Death.

Who wouldn't be? I am afraid of Death, because I do not know what lies ahead. And not knowing is hard. I fear Death not because I want to live a longer life, but because Death is something terrible. It is not dark as others would like to portray it. It is not dark, but it is awful. No matter how peaceful someone's death is, it is still terrifying. I fear Death because it the defining moment between Eternity and Life. It is a make-or-break moment, at least for me. I fear Death, but I always see it happening it.

Everyday I see my Death. I see myself lying lifeless on the floor with blood dripping from my head. I see myself being crashed by a ten-wheeler truck while crossing South Super Hi-way. I see myself being rushed to the hospital due to a fatal disease. I see myself being dead-on-the-spot in a vehicular accident. I see myself dying a horrible and gruesome death. I always see these images. Always. It is not normal. Or is it? I do not know. But all I know is that I am that afraid.

People might not understand this, but to tell you the truth, I do not like riding a motorcycle, a car, a boat, and a plane. I find it difficult to look at a car or a motorcycle in a normal way (since dying in a sinking boat or crashing plane is something normal.) I mean, I always associate these to death, so pardon me when I say no to a free ride. That is my way of preventing my premature death.

It is normal to fear Death, I think. But what isn't normal is to make fun of someone who says "What I am concerned with is the possibility of a plane crash if I go with you." and to think ill of that someone afterwards because you are one of the people who will go to somewhere someday. (I am sorry for ranting out of the blue. I am that someone, by the way.) You (whoever you are) must not think of what I said the bad way (well, what's new? You always expect and think the worst out of the people around you, anyway.) I already apologized. It is my fault to speak out my worst fear, but you cannot blame me if I am afraid of dying. I do not wish you a bad flight or something. I am just stating my worry without intending to instill fear to any of you. That was insensitivity on my part. Pardon me. But I am afraid of dying.

Cranky Monday Morning

I woke up today feeling fuzzy and cranky. It is Monday. Again.

I am never a Monday person. I do not like Mondays because Mondays are stressful and people are more rude than they actually are. I do not hate Mondays, it is just I don't like it in general. There is just something about Mondays that makes me cranky and snobby like most people around me. It is like I absorb the negative energy that they emit (okay, that sounds geeky.) Or I do not know. I just don't feel like a Monday could ever be a good day.

I am mostly apathetic, uncaring, and neutral during Mondays. But today, I was extra ruthless, demotivated, and tired. I think, I will have to attribute my sluggishness and crankiness this morning to the fact that Mondays mean another start of long and tiring and meaningless weekdays for me. Mondays mean working and going back to a routine that never really suits my personality. Monday is a just cruel day for me. Every time. Not that I always get into a fight or bad luck every Monday. It is just that Monday is never my day. It will never be. Well, unless something like divine intervention happened. That would be the day.

But in general? No Monday will be ever good enough for me.

Sherlock Holmes Got Wet

I was planning to finish reading Sherlock Holmes Volume I today (because I feel like a Super Reader like that). But then my plan was wrecked when I learned that my book got wet. Like for real. Talk about major bad vibes for a Sunday morning.

Sherlock Holmes got drenched in our washing machine was my mom's way of greeting my morning. Imagine my horror when I heard the news. I cried and stomped my feet like a kid. Seriously. Frustration kicked in. Rationality passed out. No words can describe how I feel right now. NO WORDS.

I could use some loud old music and a glass of tonic now.

Dilemma: Want vs Need

I am a not fan of technology, but there is just one thing that tops my WANT list when it comes to laptop. It is none other than MACPRO.

Sorry guise, but I get shallow sometimes. LOLJK. But seriously, with its specs? Intel Core i5 and Core i7 processors, NVIDIA graphics, 10 hours battery life. Plus, it doesn't get PC viruses, which is the main point of having a Mac (for me). Dude, I could die for it.

Though I am still content with my laptop (named Zenki), sometimes I dream of owning a MacPro for myself, since well, Zenki is not a Superlaptop when it comes to viruses. I am using a Compaq Presario CQ40, by the way. Also, the battery life is only 2 hours at most (I am talking about a brand new Presario CQ40 here). After one year, Zenki can only run on a battery for less than 45 minutes. And to think that I am very careful with its battery, always making sure that it is not overcharged or something. So there, I want a MacPro. But then, it is expensive (PHP 64,990.00 at least). It will cost me 4 or 5 paychecks (I am not sure, I am not good at Mathematics!). As in FOUR/FIVE WHOLE PAYCHECKS, tax-deduction excluded. Hahaha! But then. It's a Mac. But I don't need it. I just want it. Or maybe I need it. I don't know. I am torn.

MacPro is just pure awesomeness.

In Between Dreams and Realities

I am broke. Yeah, but who cares? I still have my books with me. I could live with that.

I am not much of a materialistic person. I don't buy anything that I don't need. My only vices are books, books, books, beer, books, beer, and books. So I think I could pass as a thrifty (bordering to kuripot) person. It might be because I was brought up to be a wise spender and to work hard for something that I want. Like really work hard. In its truest sense. Reward system has not been used to me when I was a kid, that's why I have to earn my keep. Being brought up like that is something that differentiate me from my siblings. Through that, I learned how to be wise with money and to invest on things that would later pay off. I learned to spend within my means, so to speak. The only downside is that I feel guilty sometimes when I splurge over my vices (stated above). My mom would always tell me that it's okay to buy things that I WANT, because I worked hard for it, and that I deserve it. I feel less guilty whenever she says that.

That's why I splurged on... (drum roll please!)

(The book that I have been lusting for four years!)

and...

(The book that has been on my reading list for four or so months)

I am still not done in reading Sherlock Holmes though. AND I AM STILL NOT DONE COMPLETING THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA (but I am almost done reading the series). Hello, Prince Caspian and The Horse and His Boy, where art thou? I wish I could get my hands on you next pay day!

Disappearing Act

Today marks the end of my shallow existence.

Everyday I exist, thinking of something good to do with my life. I wake up every morning with a big question mark in my head. I have nowhere to go. I got nothing to do. I go to work everyday with no goal but to end the day and move forward to another working day. I go home thinking what my life could have been if I had chosen another path. I go to sleep dreaming of Life. My existence has no meaning. At least, none yet. I have nothing else. I am naked from all the things that make someone human. I exist only for the sake of existing. There is no goal. There is no humanity.

But today, I will end this existence. Today will be the start of awesomeness!

10 Reasons Why I Won't Be A Musician

I once dreamed of being a Musician.

I love listening to music. I love putting into melody what I feel and what I think. I could play the piano when I was five years old. I took interest in learning how to play the guitar when I was eight. But by the time that I reached puberty, all the music-related things that I know have been erased from my memory. It was Tabularasa all over again. Suddenly, I do not know how to read notes, how to play the piano, and how to differentiate the tones. I even forgot how to get the right rhythm and timing. It was as if I was doomed to a world of Mediocrity. I was stigmatized. I was ripped off of the potential of being a Musician.

For some time, I cried over a spilled milk. But then I realized that I am not cut for it. I am not destined to be a Musician. And here are the 10 reasons why...

1. I am tone deaf.
2. I am off tune. ALWAYS.
3. I cannot make a difference between the sound of piano and lead guitar and base when put together.
4. I have no context of rhythm and timing.
5. I cannot grasp the difference between Tempo and Beat. Seriously.
6. I find it hard to remember the title of the song and the artist (and/or the song itself!) no matter how many times I have heard it. Well, unless I get fixated on it.
7. I cannot read notes. My music teacher could attest to that! Or even my friends!
8. I do not like the F# and Bm, B chords!
9. I can get really stubborn over a tone that is stuck on my mind.
10. For 20 years, I believed that Trumpet is Harmonica, and Harmonica is Trumpet. For real.

So you see. I may have known how to play piano before, but then... If it is not for me, then it is not for me. I can still listen to music, anyway.