Pensive moments…

“Why be capable of feelings if you’re not meant to have them? Why long for things if they’re not meant to be had?” – Isolde in Tristan and Isolde

Wow. It’s amazing how two different people in opposite situations have the same questions, the same complaints. I mean here’s a woman who is literally being fought over by noble men speaking out the very words in the heart of a girl who’d have any of those men fighting over her (preferably James Franco or Henry Cavill…though the latter wasn’t really one of the guys contending for Isolde’s hand). How ironic can the world be?! Here’s Isolde complaining about not having the one thing/person she yearns for, the only one that could truly make her happy. Then here I am complaining about the same damn thing. The difference lies in the situations we are (were?) in…she can’t have her dear Tristan because she belongs to someone else while I can’t have anybody even though I belong to no one. The world has found yet another way of mocking me, of persecuting me. sigh. Too much Hollywood in my system…maybe I should stop watching movies with medieval themes so that I could stop envying the gorgeous leading ladies (I mean, God! they’re fictional and they have gorgeous guys and wonderful wardrobe while I get ——-!)…at least until I find someone who’ll watch it with me, someone who’ll give me no reason to envy the ladies on the screen – ahem!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some hunting (more like haunting) to do… ;P

yet another old one…

I’m having another silly yet irresistible idea again. I have this weird whim to go where “Daniel” is…or at least where I think he would be. I don’t know why I feel that I have to go. I don’t know what to expect if I do go there. I don’t know what I’ll do if something will arise from going there. I don’t know anything except that I want, have to go there. I don’t have any plans unless going there and come what may counts as one. This reminds me of line that goes “we make plans but then love demands a leap of faith.” Well, I think I’m taking a leap of faith in going there…so does this make this weird, unexplainable bliss love? I think I’ve asked this to myself before. Oh yeah, I asked this question and answered that it was indeed love. It’s weird though because I don’t feel like this is déjà vu. It’s like what happened with Tio (and all the rest) is a past that needs to be thrown away. I mean look at what happened to that so-called “love”? It’s stowed away in some obscure corner gathering dust, slowly fading away into oblivion to become nothing more than a memory of what once was…then it’ll probably cease to be memory…it’ll probably be just a wisp of a memory.

Now that we’re on that topic, I wonder, “what will die with me when I die, what pathetic or fragile form will the world lose?” I guess these silly thoughts of an insomniac-slash-sleepyhead (ironic huh?) will…but who cares? The only one who will probably care will be dead too.

guys, this is an old one…just got the chance to post it…
Once in a while, one experiences that unexplainable impression that, even though we don’t see anything, someone is standing, staring behind us. I have experienced something similar with the demigod (God, it feels weird to write about someone you no longer care about…I wrote this a long time ago…I just didn’t have the chance to post it). I have experienced that feeling of excitement mingled with anxiety when one thinks there is someone behind. I have experienced that nail-biting, nerve-wracking quandary where one weighs one’s curiosity – the urge to find out who /what is behind us or if there is someone or something there at all – and one’s fear – the fear of what/who one may find there. I have experienced those many times before. In those mind-numbing instances, I gave in to my curiosity. In those maddening, disappointing – even to the point of hurtful – instances, after taking a long time to muster up my courage to disregard my fears, I glanced back just to see…nothingness glare back at me as if to mock me at my foolishness. During those instances, the devil’s malicious grin would’ve been more welcome than the emptiness that filled my eyes, my heart with tears. Then again, I’ve never seen the devil before so I don’t know if I’d really want that. Anyway, whenever I look back on those instances, I ask myself, what did I do wrong? Was I wrong in glancing back or was I wrong about taking my time in doing so? Had I glanced back sooner or later would I find someone or something there? Every now and then, I feel that compulsion again. Every time, I manage to shrug it off as nothing. I keep reminding myself of the numerous times I glanced back expecting – or rather, hoping – that the demigod’s intense, patient stare would be meeting my startled/curious stare only to find myself staring at nothing. Yes, I may have given in to my fear but a voice in my head keeps nagging, telling me: what if this time’s different from the ones before? What if you actually find the eyes that you feel are trying hard to “render you transparent,” to urge you to turn around? What if you actually find someone waiting for you to turn around? What if this hesitation of yours is making him wait longer? What if this hesitation of yours costs you a lifetime of happiness you’ve so longed for? The numerous what ifs are overthrown by one statement alone. “I have turned around before, seen nothing and found misery. I can’t take any more than what I already have.” So, everyday, I go about carrying, weighing my curiosity and my fears. Maybe one day I’ll give in to my curiosity. Maybe one day I’ll glance back. Maybe. For now, I am afraid to glance back.
I may be afraid to glance back but as I was on my way to attend practice, I couldn’t help but take a glance at the demigod. While I was doing so, I didn’t know why I did this. One song later, I found myself thinking, “…just one glance to help me get through the rest of the day without seeing you…” WTF?!?! Why does it matter whether I see you or not? Why, just a while ago, I turned my back on you so as to avoid romanticizing the sight of you as I read a romantic book! I really am a walking contradiction! When you’re near, I try hard to keep you out of my sight. When you’re out of my sight, I try hard to find you. Why?! Why?! Why?! Why am I like this when I should be able to look straight at you casually and not miss your eyes when I’m not looking at them?! Why am I even thinking of you?! Why am I writing yet another blog offering to you?!

I am weary of the world. I am not complaining. I’m sorry if it sounds like I am but I’m not…at least I don’t want to…because I believe I don’t have the right to. Now that I think about it, I don’t have the right to anything.
As I was walking home, I noticed that I was looking down again. I remembered someone asked me why I walk that way. I thought of an answer for this as I continued walking with my head bent down. I thought that maybe it’s because I live in the moment. I take a journey one step at a time. I don’t like looking too far ahead since making plans often confuses and disheartens me. Looking ahead often complicates my already complex and chaotic world. Then, on another journey, I stumbled upon yet another answer…
I am weary of the world and you will see it in my eyes, my face as I walk if one would bother to look…but who would?! I am not worth looking at. I am unworthy of even the slightest attention. Which probably explains why until now I still don’t have an S.O…ah, an S.O…one of the few things I’d want for myself. But I understand that this is too much to ask for the moment (or maybe forever…given the fact that I always like guys who like someone else, someone I can never be) so a little serenity will do. Apparently I am unworthy of such luxury as well. Just when I was thanking God (literally) for giving me a taste of one of the few things I “ask” for, reality intrudes and wreaks havoc…and I’m back to “this rampant chaos called reality.” There goes one of the few things I would want to ask for but never really manage to muster up the courage to do so. Well, any sensible being might say that it’s no wonder I don’t get what I want since I never really asked for them. Well, forgive me for being so badly deluded into believing that I am not worthy of asking for anything…all the more of having anything…anything but blame that is. So feel free to be generous. It’s all I can have at the moment so why not take all that I can? Why not use up my share so that I won’t have to take any more in the future. That is, assuming I do have one…if I am worthy of having one (with the one I actually want to share it with?)…
I am even unworthy of tears. Sometimes, if the heavens are feeling generous, I may be able to shed a tear or two. Oftentimes, I have to pour out my misery on the form of words. And even with these, I am still unworthy. If I don’t jot them down right away, they disappear into oblivion leaving me with nothing but abstract, chaotic misery. Just like today…I pour them out in words and try to remember the words but now that I’m typing, the words are all mucked up!
Ah there! What luck! Frabjous day! I have spent the two teardrops I am allowed for this petty misery of mine. I now have to resume my role as the sociable chatterbox. Time to borrow that smile I was wearing when Ram was around…so that people won’t be disturbed that I am unusually quiet. Here we go. Let the masquerade continue!

I have two annoying habits that drive me nuts. One is pulling my hair and the other one is diving into imaginary pools.
The former drives me mad because I keep ding it even though it makes my arms feel sore. You see, this habit involves the art of lifting one’s arms at shoulder height. It’s like lifting weights overhead minus the weights. Hehe. This habit also makes me dizzy. Try staring at the strands of your hair in search of ugly strands for a long time and see if it doesn’t make you feel dizzy. If it doesn’t make you feel dizzy, then you’re some freak of nature whose eyes must have the disgusting capability of popping out of their sockets thus enabling you to closely examine your hair without requiring you to strain your eyes at a grotesque angle.
This habit though is er, terminable. I don’t work out so my arms grow tired easily. Even if I do work out, the fact is my arms will still grow tired. I also happen to have normal human eyes so I get dizzy. Besides, I also happen to have a finite number of hair so I will run out of hair to pull. Nature though happened to “bless” me with an amazing bounty of hair so the former sentence isn’t a reliable argument since it actually nurtures this bad habit and sustains it for weeks.
Now, you know why the first one drives me crazy, it’s time to elaborate on the second one (although the previous blog entry can also pass off as an elaboration). Normally, diving is fun given the fact that I am quite an extreme person. Hehehe. Anyway, in diving, there’s a time when one is suspended in the air. This suspension is actually the fun part of the dive because after that, one hits the water and one’s nose and ears hurt. Well, at least mine do probably because I don’t do it properly but I never said I was a professional diver or at least someone who gave a damn about doing things properly. I mean, where’s the fun in that?! Hehe. Back to diving…if one dives into the water, the pain I described earlier would be rewarded by the cool water. However, if one dives into say…sand for example, then the pain would only be rewarded by the prolongation of it. Not to mention the humiliation one would experience by giving in to one’s foolishness in diving into sand. And this is exactly what happens every time I dive into what I once (actually not once) thought was a pool. Sure, I felt exhilarated at first. I felt exhilarated, that is, before I hit the dirt. When I do hit the dirt, like all human beings (even though it’s not so apparent that I am one hehe), I get hurt. After hitting the dirt, I’ve got nobody but myself to blame and nobody but me to pick myself up, brush off the dust and tend to my wounds as well. When I do get up, one would think that I’d know better than to do this again but I do. In fact, I feel that I’m about to do it again. Well, it’s inevitable (at least it seems to me). I mean, old habits die hard…that’s why it’s a habit dammit! Don’t worry about me though. I’m trying to put off the diving part until the rainy season so that when I do plunge into the dirt, at least it’ll be softer and cooler because it’s wet. Hehe. Besides, even though I didn’t learn how to shake off this bad habit after the numerous times I made those foolish dives (just to defend myself a little: I made those dives because the mirages were convincing…I really thought I was about to dive into water. I may be stupid but not stupid enough to dive into what is obviously sand), I learned how to prolong the suspension part and make the rest more bearable. Bear in mind that humans become immune to pain when they experience it more frequently and more intensely.
I’m tired of being the “words of Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Behind These Hazel Eyes’ made flesh” though. And just for the record, I don’t do the crying part. Ang saya naman ng hinayupak na yun kung ganon dahil magkakaroon siya ng world record.

Yet again, the world seems to be leading me to believe that I have found a sanctuary after traveling alone in this dreary place most people call the real world. I have seen this sanctuary from afar for a long time but as I got nearer, the more welcoming it seemed to be. It reminded me of the joy I used to feel in being just me. It reminded me of the delusions I used to have—all of them boiling down to the “fact” that I am good enough. It was like the river that showed Narcissus the beauty he possessed long before he looked into the fatal body of water. Now this is what scares me. yes, the river might have shown Narcissus his beauty but it also led him to plunge into his destruction. It led him to plunge into the water thinking that he was about to kiss a divine creature when he was actually plunging into his one way ticket to Hades…which, in our time, is equivalent to Hell…scary right?
I just hope that this one is not another mirage like the ones before it. Fine, if it is, then I hope the world would be nice enough to let me know before I plunge into yet another imaginary heaven. I also wish that the world would hurry up in rescuing me because I can tell I’m at the brink of diving into this river. Well, if it won’t hurry up then at least I hope it would never come and deliver the horrible news at all. I hope it would be merciful enough to leave me in my delusion until I reach the real sanctuary. Oh yeah, I forgot! The world doesn’t give a damn about me! hehe…I guess the only way to find out is by plunging into the madness…and hope this river will confirm that I’ve finally found the sanctuary I have long searched for instead of drowning me with remorse for believing the tricks played on this fragile mind (or should I say heart? Then again, this leads to another question, do I have one? hehe)
Anyway, I think I need to dip in some pool and sort things out. Maybe the heat is the one driving me crazy. hehe

Right now, I am at stuck “between two religions: one I haven’t abandoned and one I haven’t adopted yet.”  I realized it as I was once again walking home. I haven’t completely renounced my faith to my former deity (or deities if you count the one before) yet here I am, typing an offering to this newfound deity, Daniel. I found myself thinking of Daniel or as Victor Hugo put it: ”There are such sudden congelations in the dream state, which a word is sufficient to produce. The whole mind condenses abruptly on one idea and ceases to be capable of any other perception. This was absurd but irresistible.” The word that brought about this whole thing starts with a C…that’s all I’ll give here since someone who knows him might read this and I’ll be in big trouble. If you’re so desperate to find out, try looking for Guylian, a brand of chocolate that MIGHT make me consider giving you er, another clue…or the answer…depends on the uh, conditions. Anyway, the thought that was absurd but irresistible was that Fate may have something special in store for the two of us. I couldn’t stop smiling at the thought though. I think it’s one of those silly thoughts that for some bizarre reason makes you happy and sometimes even goes as far as making you think that it’s intuition talking to you. I think I am at the brink of reaching that point…if I am not there yet!

            I don’t know if it’s just me being a referential maniac or the world really is trying to constantly remind me of him. If it’s the latter well, the world is certainly doing a great job! Everywhere I looked, I saw something that has DANIEL written all over it. Take the people I passed by on my way to school and also on my way home… there was one who had er, characteristics similar to his. There were some whose outfits were similar to what Daniel wore on the day I first saw him. Speaking of that blessed day, once again I will borrow from Victor Hugo since I believe that what he wrote was foretelling the moment I’d lay eyes on him…”love begins only when two beings look at each other. Nothing is more real than these great shocks which two souls give each other in exchanging this spark…live by gazing upon each other.” Again, I don’t know if it’s just me seeing what I want to see but I believe there was something in the way he looked at me everytime our eyes met. There was something about his stare that made me wonder if he continued to stare at me even though I’m busy being nervous and noisy. There was something about his gaze that made me wish that he kept on staring at me, willing me to look at him again. There was something in those eyes that made me feel the exchange of souls that Victor Hugo wrote so well about. I think I now know what the songs mean by ‘souls intertwine’ and ‘giving each other part of each other’ the moment our eyes met. There was also something in his smile, something humble and shy yet somewhat daring, questioning yet also confessing, imploring yet demanding, that really captured me. I really couldn’t forget that smile. It wasn’t sublime in the divine sense but sublime in its humanity, in its dare I say ordinariness. I may see that smile on other people’s faces but I don’t think those smiles will say the same things his smile said and have the same effects his smile had. I may have seen that smile in less than a fraction of a second but I think I can remember that smile for a million lifetimes- if I get to live that long. I may not remember how his voice sounds like but I still remember that introduction he made and the shock that stupefied me (isang taong mahirit), that still stupefies and enchants me until now, that will continue to stupefy me until I type the last period in this entry. I have to restart my computer but I don’t want to stop typing for fear of losing these words. These words are the only things I have to let him know what he ought to know. These words are all I have to offer him. If he steps up to talk to me (something highly improbable), I’d show him what I mean. Yes, I am that crazy for him at this moment. Call this a mere spur of the moment, I don’t fucking care. This may only be a spur of the moment but nobody can deny the beauty of this moment…the sincerity, the simplicity and even the brevity of this moment is what makes it sublime. Yes, even worshipping him from afar is sublime. Sublime in the sense that I know he exists yet I do not know much about this existence therefore giving me the freedom to explore and enrich this ambiguity (sorry, Lit classes have these effects on me even though I didn’t have one today). Just as what VH wrote, ”a far off worship, a mute contemplation, a deification by an unknown votary. A lover distant and dwelling in the ideal, a chimera having a form. Adore him as something charming, luminous, impossible.” I may have understood these words, I may have felt that these words gave form to the chaos inside me and I may have believed that these words were retelling if not foretelling my experiences before I met him but I was able to grasp its essence only after I met him. I’m actually starting to believe that I am the one who gave this chimera a form. I’m starting to think that I loved those words not because they express what I wished to express rather, they expressed what I wished. I’m starting to think that I loved those words not because they gave form to the chaotic, amorphous past and present but because they gave form to the longed for future. I think that I took those words as gospel truth not because they spoke of things that were or things that are but because they spoke of things that will come to be…and now the prophecy has been fulfilled…partially…hopefully…because if this, this far off worship, is the fulfillment of the prophecy then I don’t want this prophecy anymore. If you’re not going to give me all of it, then don’t give me anything at all. Don’t give me something to hang on to just to leave me hanging. What am I saying? Well, I’m saying that if I’m going to have a fairy tale beginning then, I should have a happy ending too. I’d rather have the tragedy that ends with a resolution than a fairy tale that doesn’t end like all fairy tales do. What do I mean? Well, how do I explain this…if VH made Marius and Cosette fall in love with each other and let them live ‘happily ever after’ then this Cosette (if I am one) should end up with her Marius too. I don’t want half (meaning the 2 of us falling for each other but not ending up together because Fate is on the way) or even one-fourth (meaning just me falling for him, end of story) of the bargain. I want the whole shebang. Just as I don’t remember who said, ”if there’s a gun in the story then it better go off.” Oh yeah, I just remembered, my beloved Lit seatmate, Maki, wrote this poem and I’m putting it here because I think it’s somewhat related to me and Daniel’s situation…

            Nasaan na nga ba tayo?

            Sa ilog o sa lawa?

            Saan ba tayo patungo-

            Sa dagat o sa lupa?

            Ano na ang mangyayari-

            Uusad o paikot-ikot lang?

            Ano na ang gagawin?

            Walang hanggang pagmamahalan

            O walang hanggang hintayan?

            Sa buhay na walang pupuntahan o

            Sa habangbuhay sa kalawakan ng kaligayahan?

Nasaan ka na Daniel? Hinahanap mo rin ba ako? Sorry ang cheesy…tama na nga! Kinikilabutan na ako sa sarili kong mga pinag-iiisip! Makatulog na nga…

P.S.

            This is some new deity. So far, I think this is the longest offering I’ve made to my demigods. This boy is amazing. Let’s see how far or how long he can make me go…hehe

Therapy

(WARNING: if you have not yet finished reading the half-blood prince then I advise you to stop reading this blog because for one, you will not fully grasp what I am talking about here- but then again, even if you did finish reading HP 6, there is still that possibility you will not comprehend what I mean due to my incoherence and my being scatter-brained…not unless you are as trained as my minion…then again even he encounters difficulties in deciphering my blogs…where was I? oh yeah, the warning…for another, this blog has spoilers even though it may provide some remedy to it. Okay, I gotta stop typing this warning since it’s getting too long and I’m not fulfilling the purpose of putting a warning anymore…hehe)

My minion really looks after his master. He just gave me some therapy to ease- if not entirely cure- my lament over Dumbledore’s shocking er, death. For that therapy, my dear disciple I commend you for doing your research and you shall be rewarded with promotion to the rank of follower. Rejoice my newly appointed, or should I say anointed (whatever) follower!!! Hehe…

Anyway, I have just finished er, taking my therapy and I must say (even though it cost me hours of beauty-and-hopefully-heightening sleep) the results are great. For one, ofcourse, it made me feel more hopeful that my favorite HP character may still be read kicking ass in the next installments. It also made me feel smarter, for another. It proved that one semester with Sir Guevara really taught me something- authors like giving ambiguous hints. Hehe… honestly, I saw the clues in the book. Yes, I really saw them and I’ll be damned if I didn’t. Not with the lit classes I’ve had with Sir Guevara. I mean, he trained us really hard to see clues/signs/symbols hinted at- if not directly stated in- the text to the point of nearly becoming referential maniacs. Referential mania, by the way, is a form of being too obsessed with the meanings/messages of everything. Anyway, I really saw those clues only I didn’t know what they were (if they are clues) and what they could mean since I’m not a hardcore HP sleuth. Besides, even if I knew they were clues, I’d still doubt their validity. Just as I was trained, the ambiguity of the hints- if taken as such- provides infinite interpretations from the hint being a red herring down to the hint being a sign in bold, red letters. Anyway, all I knew when I was reading the book was that my intuition told me that they seemed a bit odd and that something was up. Of course, I didn’t pay attention to intuition (if that’s what it was) back then because I was too busy loathing Harry and Snape and lamenting Dumbledore’s disappearance. I also ignored or disregarded clues outside the book. Take my stubbornness for instance. Even as I typed an extremely long ode to Dumbledore, a part of me still didn’t believe that I’d no longer read about Dumbledore’s wisdom and fickleness because back then, I thought I was just having issues accepting the fictional death of a fictional character (which is ofcourse stupid so I didn’t want to honor this stupidity by paying attention to it). Aside from the acceptance issues, I also marveled at the fact that despite Rowling’s efforts to juice my tear glands, I didn’t shed a single tear. This was the same er, reaction (?) I had when I witnessed Gandalf’s death. I was also shocked when I didn’t cry when Gandalf died because I loved him next to- if not as much as I loved- Dumbledore. Now that I think about it, I seem to have a thing for wise old wizards. Hehe…anyway, I know this may sound like I’m claiming something I really didn’t accomplish but I just want to let you know that that’s not like me. I won’t go around proclaiming something I knew when I really didn’t. Anyway, I didn’t want to pay attention to the er, clues because I didn’t want to keep myself up for some fictional mystery conspiracy. I gave up on pondering about and wasting my powers on things that were out of my control long ago. Exactly how long? Well, ever since Politics ‘enriched’ my vocabulary and diminished my ignorance thereby my bliss as well.

Oh yeah, the therapy also made me smile because of the realization that my flavor of the month has some connection with Dumbledore. The connection was an amusing coincidence. I mean, the thought of two different er, characters I love (?) so much share this connection really made me smile. I mean, what were the chances?! Hehe…then again, you probably won’t find this connection as amusing as I do since you won’t get what I mean unless you know what this connection is. Then again, you’d have to know both flavor of the month and this not well-known fact about Dumbledore to see the connection. (there minion, I have left er, ambiguous hints already…it’s up to you to do the sleuthing or the math…if this somewhat helps you…hehe…which I think it does in 2 ways…the hints and the MATH…get it? Nyahahaha…marvel at your master’s powers/prowess and pardon the play with words…hehe…)

One more thing, I now know the term I was looking for when I was writing ‘Despised’. Tio was this memorial of a vanished joy. A joy that, I fear, is haunting me, attempting to take over me again. I am showing signs that this ‘vanished joy’ probably didn’t vanish at all…well, not entirely maybe…in the same way Dumbledore probably didn’t die either. Maybe this is why I love Dumbledore so much…he is interwoven with the er, S.S.G.s (Somewhat Significant Guy) in my life. He’s connected with Tio and flavor of the month. I wonder if he’s connected with my previous flavor of the month…anyway, the signs I was talking about before I went on with the interconnection of my SSGs with Dumbledore are 1) he visits my thoughts somewhat regularly lately 2) the thought of him suddenly arouses (tsk tsk tsk…green minds ha…) a somewhat euphoric sensation in me 3) I speak about him with less contempt and more er, affection lately 4) I talk er, mention him more often lately 5) when he is included in choices given to me, I automatically pick him (but then again, the ones asking me give me really awful options that they are obviously forcing me to pick him…I pick him for 2 reasons 1) he really is the best option no point denying that and 2) I want to please the one asking by letting her hear what she wants to hear) 6) I’m typing blogs related to him again 7) I look at his pictures (and almost everything that has something to do with him actually) with er, almost the same er, okay, (I was just to proud to admit but oh well, what the hey) with the same fondness as I did before there are more signs (and I want to make this blog reach 1500 words but so far I think this makes 1200…ooh only 300 more!) but I’m too sleepy to think of them and to type them right now so I’m gonna stop attempting doing both (thinking and typing, I mean) and go to sleep. Nytie nyt. Er, good morning pala…hehe…

PS

I couldn’t find sweet serenity and it’s 5 in the morning and I still need to have a good night er, morning er…I still need to have enough sleep because tomorrow, er, later, I am going to meet my aunt. Oh well, I will meet her before dinnertime anyway, so I guess that’s enough time to get my required dose of at least 9 hours of beauty sleep and watch some TV…I got lost in my world of thoughts and words again. Where was I again? Oh yeah, I could not find sweet serenity not until I make this blog reach 1500 words so I’m gonna keep on trying and typing nonsense (as I always and never fail to do…hehe) until I do so…so I can find sweet serenity and so that Hypnos (he’s the Greek god of sleep in case you didn’t know) will finally reward me with what I so desperately need…SLEEP not a boyfriend you…you…you something-I-wanna-call-you-but-I’m-not-gonna-because-I’m-afraid-i-might-offend-you-and-I-don’t-want-to…hehe…just some useless trivia: Nike is the Greek goddess of no, not air shoes! Ancient Greeks didn’t have air shoes back then. She’s the Greek goddess of great! Now I forgot what she was the goddess of! Wait, I think I finally reached 1500 words. Yay! I finally reached one thousand five hundred words…hehe…okay, not just yet…hehe…but…well, by the end of the blog, I will so I guess I will just tell you some other time what Nike is the goddess of….hehe…1500! Yes! *rejoicing by making stifled screams since I can’t scream out loud because everyone but me is soundly asleep and by jumping up and down which will hopefully make me somewhat taller- oops, I think this only works during the New year celebration but then again, I don’t think it really works anyway so, instead, I will just hope this jumping up and down of mine will wear me down so I can get some sleep*

First of all I’d like to congratulate R24 (minus me ofcourse) for a great job!!! You guys rock!!! Gino can finally grow back all the hair he lost (not to mention time, energy, fun and sleep he lost)!!! Isang malaking tinik ang nabunot sa ating puso!!!( sorry, ang cheesy…)

Well, except for me that is. Instead of permanently removing a huge thorn in my heart (I’m sorry if I keep using that but I can’t think of anything else right now since it’s 1 in the morning and I’m honestly exhausted but I can’t make my mind stop…I can’t keep my mind from nagging at myself. The only way of making these wonderful thoughts go away is to type them so here I am…sorry ang haba ng side-comment…), it just temporarily removed one and permanently replaced it with something harder to bear than the one before it. Oh well, at least other people are relieved of their burdens…if such relief is not made for me, at least let it be for others. If I wasn’t meant to have something to rejoice about, then at least let others have it. Hmmmm…now that I think about it, I have just deprived an entire block of innocent, hard-working students (ooooh, Oleanna!!! Wala lang) of everything worth rejoicing about in this event! Wonderful! Hah! Finally! Time for some self-bashing—the real reason why I’m doing this!!!

I have read somewhere that suicide is the most sincere form of self-criticism. “How appropriate,” I thought, “is this a moment of enlightenment from the heavens? Is this my CUE to stop acting out the pathetic, possibly even abominable scene called ‘my life’ because I SUCK?!” At first, the gravity of reality did not occur to me. When I returned backstage, the magnitude of my mistake did not sink in but when some of my neurological functions returned, it did and I realized that I AM ONE HELL OF A SUCCESSFUL FAILURE!!! I couldn’t stop annoying, hating myself for it and I couldn’t stop blaming myself either. I kept playing the wretched scene over and over again in my head and I kept correcting it over and over again too. Everytime I managed to correct my mistake in my fantasies (somewhere they can’t really do anything other than aggravate my self-loathing), the urge to bang my head on all solid surfaces increased. You could be arguing that I’m overreacting and that it wasn’t entirely my fault but those arguments cannot change the fact that I MADE A BIG FREAKING MISTAKE and that I don’t think I have the right to point fingers on anybody but myself. Everybody told me that it wasn’t my fault and that it was okay. I really hope, pray, implore the Almighty God that it is so. Anyway, everybody tried their best to help me forgive myself — and I appreciate and thank everybody for that— but “if you can’t help yourself then nobody can help you.” This nobody —I’m sorry I digress (ahem!merong nakangiti jan ngayon…hehehe…sorry serious mode nga pla…)— came in the form of JR (obviously not the person’s real name…and just to complicate the already confounding universe, I just want to say that the fact that the codename is a guy’s name doesn’t necessarily mean that the person really is a guy). I’m not saying that all the rest were insincere and merely uttering empty words of consolation but JR’s words—brief yet poetic in its simplicity— had the most impact. What JR said really made me feel the sincerity of not only the words but also the intention to save me from unjustly (probably in JR’s eyes at least) crucify myself over a petty (probably in JR’s eyes again) mistake. Thank you. Anyway, I honestly think that I owe all my blockmates an apology because I cost them an A they truly deserved for all their hard work; because I made all their hardwork go down the drain and also because I made them offer up failure to God — ALL BECAUSE OF ME!!!(that’s two grave offenses in one go…beat that!)—; that I don’t have the right to justify (or make excuses…take your pick, it doesn’t really matter…or as my blockmates say, TOMAYTO, TOMATO, POTAYTO, POTATO, SAME BANANA!!!) myself. The whole sham was entirely my fault and my fault alone. Period. (and don’t even try arguing to me about it…nobody can defeat my stubbornness in such instances)

            Readers, I assure you that you need not worry about me because after I type the last period, all that came before it would be nothing more than a distant memory probably from another dimension. Trust me, when you see me, I’ll be smiling as if the huge mistake called Friday, march 3^rd 2006, did not happen. I’ll be enjoying as if my whole life went as I planned it.

            I could go on making an 1000-word offering/public apology and I intended to but you might get annoyed thinking that I am re-enacting (wow, I keep using words like acting, cue, re-enacting…how wonderful!) the Passion of Christ just to evoke public sympathy…pity…whatever! I don’t want that. I just want to type the last word and hopefully forgive myself…better yet, forget the damn thing! Wait, is that actually better? I dunno…whatever! Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a mistake to rectify and an honest self-criticism to ponder on. Oh yeah, and I honestly enjoyed bashing myself. It was cathartic in a twisted —even sadistic— way but cathartic nonetheless. One more thing, in case you didn’t get the title, successfully deficient is just another way of writing FAILURE. You know how I love these wonderful and elaborate variations for insults. On one hand, they’re more bearable than the simple, common ones since ignorance can be bliss. On the other hand, they’re harder to swallow if you’re unfortunate enough to understand them. Hehehe.

P.S.

            I just realized I can’t stop using the word “sorry.” I guess it’s an indication that I’m still annoyed and that I’m still feeling sorry for myself and for the other people I have victimized because of my incompetence. I’m sorry. Oops, I’m at it again…sorry. Sorry. Sorry. (just stop it Chia!)

I can’t stop smiling. I just can’t, okay? Well, excuse me for feeling happy. I’ve been feeling happy for three straight days already. This is some hang over! Well, I’m not feeling extremely euphoric but I feel like nothing’s going to break me down…even Single Awareness Day! (i.e. Valentine’s Day) Yes, even on that fateful Tuesday where I will be slapped on the face the whole day even by people I don’t know. But because Friday happened, I think I’ll be able to face that day happy, if not smiling. What was so special about Friday? Well, I just spent some time with someone that’s all. No, it wasn’t a date! It wasn’t even close to a date! It was for academic purposes. I swear! So, don’t you dare smirk in your seat as you read this entry. Don’t you dare!!! If you do, I will make sure that you will resent that!!! Anyway, this guy is no gorgeous demigod who can make girls swoon just by the mere mention of his name. He’s not gorgeous at all. He’s actually someone you just might pass by without a glance. Don’t get me wrong though, he’s not ugly. He’s…just right. He has this unusual charm— mysterious and endearing…this is probably because of his seemingly fragile countenance that makes me feel I should take care of him for fear that he’ll get swept away by the wind and I’d lose the only guy who has made me feel this way. I really don’t know. Like before, I really don’t understand for certain why I like him so much. All I have are hypotheses to explain the phenomenon happening everytime I’m with him. When I’m with him, I don’t feel like a divine goddess but I don’t feel like the biggest freak of nature either. He makes me feel that I am good enough for him…that I am…just right…and this feeling that I am good enough makes me feel somewhat sublime— at least in his eyes, I think. It’s good to know that you’re good enough as you are to someone. I dunno. It’s just that there’s something in the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me that makes me think that he sees and appreciates my positive traits (if I have any) and that he sees my flaws and shortcomings as well but he somehow sees them as the things that make me different from the rest —and if I’m not mistaken, he has a thing for the unconventional…just like me! hehe…Anyway, it’ s good to be with someone who, without trying so hard, sees who you are and likes what he sees without you trying so hard to make him feel thus. I guess I enjoy this break time between my masquerade performances for my demigod’s entertainment (? Attention?). I guess I enjoy being noticed by him without me trying to make him. Though, I don’t feel ultimately euphoric or “kinikilig” but I don’t feel bored either. I feel like I’m just hanging out with a very close friend. It just feels right. When I hugged him, it felt…you got it! Right! I don’t know why it felt like that but the fact still remains that it did. I mean, he’s not a chubby, huggable guy who can act like your life-size teddy bear. He’s not a hot, you-can-cry-on-my-macho-shoulders kind of guy. He’s actually kinda skinny but his skinny look suits him. If I may say so, his being skinny is probably the reason why he fit like a key to a lock in my arms (eew, pardon the cheesy line, I couldn’t think of anything else). It felt like he really belonged there. I just hope he felt that way too but I may be asking too much. It was really funny because three people mistook us for a couple. I was the only one who reacted loudly about the accusations and he just sat there and took everything. It makes me wonder if he thinks that those accusations were just right. I really wonder what goes on inside that poetic head of his. I wonder if he’s writing a poem about me right now…oops, I’m wandering on the realms of wishful thinking once more.

            Oh no, I might end up feeling sad again because of this guy. Whatever! I’m happy right now. I’ll deal with that when it comes. nyaha.

P.S.

            After reading what I’ve written earlier, I realized that it’s not as eloquent as the others I’ve written before. Could this be a sign of my refusal to sugarcoat my thoughts and feelings through flowery words so as to express myself with complete sincerity? Nah. I guess I have just exhausted my literary powers. My muse must have left me already. So must I.