The Return

Hi there, Stranger!

It's been months since I last updated this blog. Sorry for the unexpected hiatus. I know that I vowed to write more last year. Apparently, that didn't happen. Instead, I found myself caught in a terrible hangover that was 2011. To be more vague, life happened.

So... This year, I will not promise anything that is related to writing. I will just blog if and when my schedule and my brain permit me. I know I have to explain my absence, but I'm tired of it. Besides I have the habit of leaving the blogosphere every now and then, returning only whenever I feel the need to exorcise the demon in my head.

Anyway, since I'm in the mood to blabber about my weird and boring life, let me give you a list of the things that I did (or at least as I remember them) this January 2012.

1. Tried to get wasted by drinking alcohol nonstop from 9:00PM December 31, 2011 to 12:30PM January 1, 2012. Goal achieved? No. Didn't get wasted.
2. First day of work. Updated my journal (the tangible) and assessed 2011.
3. Woke
4. Up
5. Everyday
6. To
7. Work.
8. Didn't
9. Remember
10. Much
11. Of
12. It.
13. Went somewhere to do a personal errand.
14. "Closure." I wasn't asking for one, but it happened. I wasn't looking for it, it came to me. I just realized that I got to do what I need to do. It was not easy, but it was what I needed. Principles > Matters of the Heart, that's always my rule. Aside from that, I went to Zambales with high school friends (in which case, we call ourselves "Team Malaysia"). Though we were "na-Juno," we still pushed through it.
15. "Let's get lost in the haze of our childhood dreams and bask in moments of stolen freedom." Day 2 of our Zambales trip. Went to Potipot Island and slept the whole day. Tiring day.
16. Monday Routine with Sasha, Tin, and Beerday Boy Aris. I didn't get drunk, sad.
17. Busy day at the office. Multitasking will be the death of me.
18. "It gets better everyday." <3
19. Flaming Wings with Beks and Phen + Caffeine boost.
20. "I'll be here, wishing I could be there." Tea Party with Faith while Franz Ferdinand was in my ears.
21. "I am the man." Saturday. I did some house chores and watched She's the Man.
22. Hazy. Went out to do some personal errand. Went to Tin's to grab free dinner.
23. Happy birthday, Mom! To the strongest and coolest person I know, cheers to another year of dealing with my shenanigans.
24. "Drunken stupor makes me forget." Mandarin Wok with officemates.
25. "You just get used to it." Had Ze Talk with Faith.
26. "It gets better, right?"
27. Today, I wrote my first blog entry for 2012. Hooray?

There you go. Four days left until the first month of this year is over. Soon, it'll be Valentine's Day already, which means... Cagayan de Oro trip! I hate to anticipate, but I know that 2012 is going to be better. Right?

Stupid Cupid

Love could be the most beautiful feeling ever...or it could be the most terrifying.

Either way, love is the most confusing and the most complex feeling of all. The rush, the thump, the rose-colored glasses, then the uncertainty, the fear, the anxiety--these emotions fill up your heart as butterflies swirl in your stomach.

You see him. Your heart skip a bit. You take a deep breath. You stare at him, and suddenly you hear music in the background. It is the kind of music that only people (falling) in love can hear. The kind of music that makes a heart swell with overwhelming emotions. Everything fades into the background. There's only one dimension--He. Everything's on slow motion as he walks towards you. He is smiling his lopsided smile, the smile that won your heart from the very start. He waves at you. You smile back, failing to wave in return because you don't have the energy to do so. You hear your heart stumping like crazy. You hold your breath, anticipating, waiting for him.

Then, the future flashes before you. You are spending your life with him. You have two kids. You are living in a two-story yellow house with a big garage and a well-maintained garden. Your family owns a dog named Bully. He is the youngest partner in a well-known law firm in the city, while you are making your way in publishing industry. You talk about random things every night before going to sleep. You cook breakfast for him and the kids every morning and make sure that they do not forget anything before they leave. You stay at home, writing your new novel. During weekends, he cooks for the family. He makes time for you and the kids. He is the one in-charge during the weekends. He makes you feel like a queen. He takes you out to dinner sometimes while the kids stay over at their grandparents' place. But most of the time, you spend the time together as one happy family.

Sometimes you argue over silly things, but make up after everything is cleared. Your life together as a couple is pretty usual, only that the love you have for each other has not faded, not a bit. Time passes. Your kids turn into adults. Still, the two of you is together. You still listen to your favorite songs together. You two still hold hand and share the same dream together. He is old. You are old. But time is nothing. He smiles at you, his eyes glisten with unwavering love. You smile back, knowing that you have made the right decision to fight for him long ago.

Now, he's in front of you. His smile has not faded. His eyes shimmer with happiness and excitement. You gaze at him, longing, gaping, thinking of what to say. You heart is in your throat.

Five years is a long time. Yet, you are falling in love with him over again. You feel your gut tighten. Then, there comes fear. You are supposed to take this chance to tell him what you feel. You are supposed to tell him you love him, but you cannot. You fear his rejection. But it is now or never. You open your mouth to say the words you long to say for five years. Just when the first word is slipping off of your lips, a girl comes into the picture. He put his right arm over her shoulders and gives her a peck on her lips. He introduces you to her. You smile. She smiles. He says something to you, but you cannot hear any of it. Your ears stop functioning. You cannot move. You are staring at them, yet you cannot see. Your heart has been crashed. Your hopes died. Everything in you is breaking into pieces. Pain is eating you away. It is not jealousy, it is pure pain and heartache. You wish everything is just a dream, a very bad dream. But you know that the pain is real, way too real.

But of course, you know that none of these are true. That all of these just happen in your mind. You just make these up. You are not in love. You are not hurt. You are just bored and maybe a little bit hormonal. There is no "He," because "He" only exists in your imagination. The emotions you've created are just words without meaning, nothing more. You lie on your bed, shake off any remaining ideas in your head, and sleep. You sleep until you don't feel alone and lonely anymore. You sleep until you are in that familiar world again. A world where love is not confusing and complex. You sleep, and worry no more.

Saturday High

I hate to brag, but I just had a productive Saturday. I woke earlier than my usual Saturday waking up time.

I just ate lunch, and picked up where I left off at Kafka on the Shore. Before long, I realized that I am done with it. I felt a little sad over the book. The end justified the whole story. Only few books have that quality, I guess. Having read it was one hell of ride to consciousness and humanity. It kept me from asking why, and just led me to accept the fact that everything happens for some contorted reasons, which human mind cannot grasp. I felt like Kafka Tamura all throughout the story. I feel his emotions. I understand what he thinks. And maybe, I am Kafka Tamura in many ways. Perhaps Kafka Tamura is my metaphor, my exact metaphor.

After much realizations in life, I decided to watch a little bit about Woodstock. There are a lot of good songs in the clip. And a lot of quotations, too. This one's my favorite as of the moment.

Also, I finished watching Sister Act 2 (at long last!!!). I devoured the whole movie in one sitting, pretty much a challenge for me if I must say. Music Ass made me laugh. I just remembered that when I was in grade school and high school, I loathed Music subject. I had a hard time staying awake during that subject. All we talked about were Bach, Haydn, Beethoven, and other classical musicians. That was a traumatic experience for me. But then, when I got old, I came to like music itself. One major factor is that I just listened to it without minding the technicalities of it.

I cannot say more to a productive day. I feel as though I am beginning to get the momentum again, but I do not want to get ahead of myself now. I'll just let things unfold before me and do whatever that I like...for now.

I am the Walrus

I am in a limbo.

I am in a limbo, a world where I can do anything I want without any prejudice. I am in a world where everything is calm. Time does not matter here. Nothing is impossible. Everything can happen if I want to. I am the Lord of the Sea, the God of the Sky, the Emperor of Hell. I am everything. In this world, I can be whoever I want to be. I can do whatever I want to do. No restrictions. No holds barred.

I am infinite. I am part of everything, and everything is part of me. I am part of a whole, and the whole is a part of me. In this kind of world that I created, there is no judgment. No concept of right and wrong, moral and immoral, good or bad. There is just humanity. There is just freedom without responsibility. It is freedom in its purest and truest sense. I am free, truly free. I am part of everything, but I am free.

I am the Walrus. I am free. There is no law. No prejudice. No rules to bind me to majority of the human population. I am just me, naked from all the social norms and social responsibilities. Nothing matters, and nothing means anything. I am a floating entity, lost in transition.

Nothingness confuses the mind, emptiness tears the soul. But still, I stay in this kind of world.

Burning the Bridges

Sitting, waiting, wishing...

I could use some good introductions right now like "I wish I could write like Edgar Allan Poe..." or "How does it feel to be always waiting for something that will never come?" or "Some stars are meant to fall and never to regain its twinkle," but I know I could not sustain that. I would be bastardizing a good start with a nonsensical follow ups. So better not to use any of them.

I am thinking of something witty or interesting to write about. I have thought of writing my obituary, but that's just so typical. I have thought of ranting about how my life sucks right now, but that's so whiny. I have thought of weaving words for my suicide note, but that's pathetic. I have thought of listing down what I did today (which is not interesting at all), but that's very lame. So, I decided on writing about nothing and something at the same time. What could that be?

Superman is Gay. This has been a theory since time immemorial. I have heard a lot of accounts regarding Superman's gender. There are a lot of debates going on the virtual world, but nothing beats the joke that I have heard from Infidel today (I guess, that's because it was the first time that I have heard of this joke!) It goes something like this (but not quite). There were some text missing, but get the point? That must have been the start of his "gayness." LOLJK. I also found a discussion on his gender over the internet. A serious discussion, dude. You can check it out here. Oh, pop culture! What the heck. I need Foucault or whoever gender theorists are available.

Blue streak. Ever heard of the expression talk a blue streak? Well, I haven't until Infidel told me about it. It means to say a lot very fast, to talk very much and very rapidly, in short--to blabber. But! It also means something other than its figurative meaning. Apparently, it is the term used to label the act of igniting one's fart. I kid you not. You can check this and that for further proof that one's fart is combustible. I also Googled on the matter (fart is the subject, my friend) and found an interesting link that can provide anyone a better understanding on fart. And yes, while I am writing this I am slashing my throat using a bread knife. Writing about fart is close to abomination and social suicide.

Dongca's Birthday!

Ber Months. I am never a fan of months with -ber on its end, because that only means one thing: Christmas. Though I am lusting for a long Holiday, I am not looking forward to Christmas for reasons I stated before. I am slowly turning into a Grinch. I have to endure the (repetitive) Christmas songs again. Oh. NO.

Want vs Need. My ultimate dilemma. Right now, I am contemplating on choosing which to acquire: a cellphone or a camera. I really want to have a Blackberry for a phone, but that's just not me. I mean, 2mp and not much of a mp3 player. So I think I will settle for Sony Ericsson Aino. As for the camera, well... That's different. I am lusting for Yashica FX-2 ever since I held it with my hands, but it is not practical to use film right now (unless I am a professional photographer.) So I (will) concede to Sir Abe's piece of advice: Go Digital. But then, I am having a hard time choosing which of the two (cellphone and camera) I will get. I can only have one! It is hard to choose.

This and That. November and December will be the death of me. I need to decide before November 11, 2010!!! Why is it hard to decide? Tell meeeee! WHY?

Oh shit. It's past 12am already! I failed to post this on the first day of September. Crap.

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.

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?)

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

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.

Mad World

Do you know what's worth fighting for when it's not worth dying for?

The world has its way of disappointing people. I remember quoting myself that the world is simply harsh. Apparently, I have not lived to my own realization. The world is always surprising me. Always. One moment I feel like I have mastered the art of getting along with it. Then the next moment I am lost amidst the uncertainties of life.

It is like the world is playing tricks on me. I always find myself at the edge of things. I am always hanging like a wanderer, clueless and pathless. I always feel as if the world is going bipolar on me; as if I am being thrown to the opposite side every now and then. There is no permanence. There is no certainty. There is no guarantee. There are just surprises, detours, and disillusionments in the process of getting thrown to a lesser firm ground.

The idealisms that I held high for almost a decade have been flushed down the drainage. I have been awaken from my long sleepless dream. I have been disappointed by a lot of things, but never in my life that I decided that the world is simply a shallow place where people get screwed up by the system... Until now. I have come to an impression that the world is like a larger high school ground. Always too much of everything to the point of being void of anything.

The ambiguity and the vagueness of the world can sometimes be challenging. But it gets boring as time passes. It disappoints me that even though I am too grounded on reality, I still get struck by the cruelty of the world.

Whatever. This is just me being ambiguous and vague at the same time.

Jinxed? No. Just bad luck.

Someday when my life has passed me by

I'll lay around and wonder why you were always there for me

-Someday, Sugar Ray

I better find a cure to possessiveness and nostalgia. Or better yet, find a solution to my bad luck when it comes to NBI Clearance. The latter sounds a bit possible and sensible.

I had been to NBI twice (as early as a bird!!) for two consecutive days, and yet I still have empty hands. I only gained a darker shade of eye bags, lost a two-day worth of rest and me-time, and wasted money and energy for a clearance that cannot be mine.

I do not know why I have that song playing in my head while typing this. There's no connection. And this entry is probably the most senseless one of all.

GERLS 101

All that happens when your dream comes true is a slow, melting realization that it wasn't what you thought.

-For One More Day, Mitch Albom

Meet GERLS, the people who made my college days worth the two-hour travel. I could not believe that we really had separate lives now. I know that this is bound to happen anytime, but I just could not process the fact that I would not be able to see much of them this June (and in the coming months or years). For the past four years, I used to see them in June after the looong summer breaks. But not this year, which brings me to make a short (psuedo)write-up about each of these adorable people.

Dongca, The Unica Hija. If there's an acronym that would perfectly describe her, it would be: LSS. No, it is not Last Song Syndrome. Uh well. It could be, but no. Aside from the fact that music is major part of her life, it stands for Long hugs, Surprises, and Stars. She always gives people a good deal of long hugs, making them feel loved and cared. (It is from her that I get my daily dose of long hugs--a reminder that I am still human and that I need to be hugged.) She digs surprises as much as she likes to give one. (She is an expert in surprises, swear! Even in her birthdays, she is the one surprising us.) Everyday is a different day when I am with her. It is as if the heavens had bestowed upon me a one of a kind daughter. She loves stars. And in reality, she poses as a wishing star to everyone, making her love ones' dreams come true. I know she would not agree to this, but she is the star that she wishes to be.

Briege, The Black Sheep. No moments are dull for this one. She laughs at everyone's jokes as if the joke is really funny. She has sick sense of humor as she finds beauty in aliens. She is the kind of person that one will be able to drag anywhere. Be it an alcohol fest in Katipunan or a beer marathon somewhere in Manila. She can be devoid of emotions, but what lies beneath the that surface is a soft-hearted person. She can be weird sometimes, but she is a critical thinker whose only joy are Aliens, Sleeping, and Sneakers (ASS, that is unintentional really.)

Ingrid, The Hot Mama! The prettiest and the hottest girl alive! She has BBB! Beauty, Brains, and Boobs. She is a perfection in the making. She is the beauty amidst the ugliness and pollution of Taft Ave. She lights up the darkest and saddest moments by her bright personality and retard jokes. She is family-oriented and is one of the most caring persons I have known in life. She never fails in comparison (to anything!). She never fails.

Gellai, The Master. She claims to be an idealist, but her eyes are too open to reality. She is a romantic. A damsel in distress who wanted to be saved by her prince. But don't let that fool you. She may be a princess, but she can fight. She is a Spartan at heart. There's no battle that she cannot win, and no puzzle she cannot solve. If demi-gods were true, then I know that she would be Athena's child.

Zana, The Chocoholic. Do not let a single grain of sugar enter her bloodstream or else you're in for a big trouble. LOLJK. If there's someone in our group of friends who is understanding and objective, it would be Zana. She has her firm beliefs and principles in life, but she understands and accepts human flaws. She sees through everything. She is the reflective type of person. But! She is fun to be with. She may seem intimidating sometimes, but she knows where she stands and she knows when to have fun.

Bge, The Histrionic. The depth of a person cannot be measured by the make-ups that she has. Being too hooked in DSM-IV before, she diagnosed herself to have a Histrionic Personality. She can get emotional most of the time, but she is the right person to approach when one needs notes and academic advice/coaching. She knows what she wants, and she works hard for it. She may get lost along her way, but she never fails to catch up. Besides, she got the fastest legs. She sure knows how to win the race.

Chawen, Jack of All Trades. By Jack, I mean the card and by Trades, I mean the under-the-table moments. She is known for her good life techniques. She can carry herself in a way that no one would know that can curse like a man, gamble like a pro, and drink like a tambay. She can be a princess and a pauper, depending on what the occasion calls for.

Hammie, The Banker. I am torn now between The Banker and Tagalista ng Noisy. But I opt The Banker since she is half-chinese and she is rich. She is a TAN, duh. She seldom talks, and if she does, she speaks in fluent English. She may be the quietest in the group, but she is the coolest. She is sincere, and one of the few people who can make anyone comfortable in silence. She seldom talks, but she always prays.

Jemu, The Only Girl. As much as he claims himself to be a cynic, he is actually the opposite. Because beneath that big and fatty body is a fragile heart. He has a clear cut vision of reality. He remains grounded on the truths of life. He is objective and has a mind like a machine. He is a Magna Cum Laude, for Pete's sake. But what other people cannot see is that he offers more than what he can give to the people he loves (which makes his heart a lot bigger than his body).

I am ending this now. I could not think of any parting words. Perhaps I have run out of things to say. Or maybe I have forgotten them. Nostalgia can kill.

Remind me not to listen to Someday by Sugar Ray.

Pen and Paper

I only know one thing: I am too young to be tired.

Lately, I have been feeling tired and depressed. I just feel hormonal. I just want to be able to write again. I don't know. I keep on looking for something, like an inspiration. I need it.

For the past four years, I have not been able to produce any decent creative output. I have failed myself. I have failed my potentials. I know it. But every time I try to write something sensible (not like this blog-slash-rant), I get a mental block (I beg not to use a writer's block). I cannot sustain and give justice to a good idea I have in mind. The inspiration seems to be flickering on and off in my head. I cannot manipulate the words and the elements like I used to.

This is largely my fault. I have succumbed to the notion that I cannot get something out of being a writer. As a result, I have neglected my writing stints just to give way to a more sensible occupation. I guess I have neglected it too much for so long that I cannot remember how I used to get away with words. I have succumbed to mediocrity... Now I just feel tired and depressed. Being unable to write something creative is making me sad.

I wish I knew how to end this stagnation.