I can't listen to this anymore.

There I was, in the middle of the pond, dawdling with the fires of my senses. The waters near my feet were cold; ever since I stepped inside this conundrum, I felt unworthy. The frog jumped away from my trembling fingers, unable to commune to the fact that I am fascinated with such being. It felt like as if I could do nothing more--nothing less, maybe. I fear that maybe the mud underneath my knees harbored my faintest dreams, that maybe the shadow of the elm tree casted every dark cloud above my head. Maybe, I was too childish to be playing in this grave. I was, insurmountably, a dot in the sky--a dot so dark I could not even comprehend what I looked like from the earth. I was a dot and it was too late to recognize that fact.

Too bad.

I looked in front of the mirror and I said to myself, what the hell happened to me? This is not the entity I have always known, the person I believed that can change everything. Everything.

But now here I am, standing by the lamppost--the same lamppost where I promised to kiss my faithful one--but I am lacking. I am not sufficient myself; if I will talk once more, I might as well break down. I don't know what's happening anymore. I'm being lost in the forests of my thought, constantly striving not to see but to feel my way out. I am really afraid to let go of the vines that pointed my path; but, I am too depressed to reach out for another vine. My imagination clouds my intuition--I can't set my inspirations apart from my faith. I am strangled by the familiar scent of wildflowers that sprouts unevenly as I cross my road. I am too shattered to be radiant, too dull to be signaling, too broken to walk. I scrawl every tree I pass the name of the clouds I see up above; for now, I don't want them to leave my side. I wish for a flashlight but what I get is a tiny flask with a firefly within, dawdling lively and playing by the graces of the unknown.

I am keeping myself busy, shouting and yelling for help.

Do I get any help?

Do I even exist?

That's so funny, I even forgot to laugh. Sarcastically.

It has been, what, weeks since my last post in my blog. I really have no time doing all of this. I miscalculated at some parts, thinking that it the schedule is spacious statistically speaking, but, the downfall of expectations is that they are merely out of the fact.

Past schedules come next. Here are the goals, expectations and what-nots of the week and if they are met, partially met and incorrigibly forgotten:

1. I am should be watching Magnolia. Magnolia. Magnolia. But, even if I am already starting the browser, I close it, and I do not even know why. I guess the black backdrop is naturally hypnotic, even though the color has meaning for me.
2. What's with Fiesta? For at least 6 times I have been trying to update the game client, but, it seemed as if I doesn't want me to play. The farthest I was able to go was over 60%--then the bar that counts the percent and bytes per second magically and sarcastically disappeared. Such an annoying and continual coincidence (I am beginning to love alliterations).
3. I know there is something wrong with me. Even though I had a good time and I enjoyed the good company, I simply managed to sit quietly like a pulp on one corner. My mouth seemed to close by itself. Things are beginning to be redundant, but, I guess that's normal for special people.
4. I have to stop. The list must go on, but, someone was able to hit me with something on the head. Now all the ideas are spilled. I must wipe them off. I must.
   

There were too many. And I stood alone. Well, I thought I did.

I really didn't know why I took up this whole mess by myself. Nobody pursued me; in fact, it was all of my own choice that I took a step forward into the crevasse that was in front of me. But one statement of an inspiring mentor taught me how to get into my choice:

"I didn't like my choice the first time. But I fell in love with it."

It felt like as if a wisp of wisdom took my mind away. Yeah, she was right. It is not always a chance to love, but a choice to love. The desire to make a change in every single way enveloped my mind and transformed my narrow aura into a profound one. She made a strong point on that fact.

What the hell am I doing with myself, I thought. I have always been saying in my head that failure is not an option but a rather fine consequence is waiting in the end--I could choose something again and act as if nothing bad happened. But no, her words said, it is not always the result that depends on the common fact of choice; it is the rare reality of lies. You can never escape your wrongdoings and there are these "unforeseen circumstances" that may hold you neck and decapitate your choices.

The answer never lies, I told myself afterwards. It could be a superficially covered entity but inside, it is the whole damn truth.

Love the job. Love the choices.

Failure was never an option.

[...]

Somehow I feel that I have no worth in this world. Will anybody miss me enough if I let myself die? Will anybody remember my smile, my voice, my words? Inasmuch as I refrain from thinking about it, I just can't take my mind off it. This semester for me is uneventful; I am like a wisp of air, an unknown entity, a dark chasm in the midst of the star's embraces. I am asleep while my surrounding is bustling with energy, vigor, and utmost life. I am a simple plant enveloped by higher trees with leaves covering my sunlight; I am nothing. It is as if I never existed.

As if I wasn't here.

As if I am lost.

As if I am gone by a minute.

As if I am left over another tree.

As if I am hidden.

As if I am contained.

As if I don't amount to anything.

As if... As if I wasn't here.

Don't try to wake me up. It is useless.

Hmm...

I was reading some things on the net and I found this very good website about Personality and Multiple Intelligence Tests that can tell you exactly (well, at least for me) what you are. For the record, I do not believe in the objective presentation of the human mind, but, if it happens to shoot right through me, then let it be. Besides, there is no harm in doing these things. It only gets creepy when the results hit.

The test was precise--at the end you will not utter a word. I assure you. These are the results when I took the examination:

100% Verbal/Linguistic: This is where it hit the spot. You see, I am this person that you may call a corrector. Sorry for the lousy word, but, I prefer it that way. When somebody says something in English and I happen to hear it, no matter who that was, I would instantaneously correct his grammar. Most of the times, I whisper it to myself; some people told me it was offending to correct others' word usage especially when they are of a higher degree than me. They are scared that I will be mutilated, burned, boiled, pricked and poked by giants who do not even know what's the difference between "a" and "an." It is not intentional, it is innate. And things like this are incorrigible. I also love writing poems, short stories and journals (like this, haha). Since I am a to-be nurse, I am also willing to write Nursing Care Plans, Teaching Plans and Family Nursing Care Plans. Don't ask me what those three things are. Definitions in my field are hemorrhagic or, as my professor in Bioethics termed "epistaxis," a bloodshed.

85% Visual/Spatial: They say that those who are good at this field loves (underscoring applied) geometry. Yes, I love the squares, triangles, trapezoids, trapeziums and circles, but, I wasn't able to like it that much. Care to ask why? One word: Mathematics. I suck in this subject ever since I was able to sit on a class room. Yes, all of my other subjects are way over the top, but, my Mathematics grade just can't go any higher. My grade is gravitational; the higher I aspire, the lower it gets. No matter how depressing this matter is, all I could do was look closely to my teacher's eye--specifically the fibrous tunic--and contemplate if there were chances that I could see my reflection. Anyways, the thing that made me pass this part is drawing. I love drawing things. I love visualizing things and daydreaming (more like sleeping with eyes open when the teacher is talking in front). I love imagining things, but not to a point where I conclude that have an imaginary friend beside me. At least I am not crazy. Not yet.

85% Logical. This is a fact: I want things to be as rational as possible. I must not work with assumptions, simply because if I was questioned about my doings, I will never be able to answer. That is why I read a lot of stuff to objectify my claim (if I have any). Besides, in my field, facts are needed. What is not done cannot be written. What is not written is not done. Claims are inconclusive. Hearsays pain my ears. (P.S.: About mathematics being a part of this intelligence, it was just a joke. Don't believe everything you see.)

Haha. It hits me. I wish I took an evasive action.

My Rebirth Post

So...

I am alive again. Wooh. After that strenuous days of no sleep and euphoria of clashing schedules, I returned, standing and enjoying the fleeting breeze of the afternoon sun. I can not stop doing something. But, because something is anything, that is another story.

By the way, I have been bending every time I get into playing. Playing? Is that a better way for a nursing student of a prestigious school to learn? I guess maybe. I am trying to work my way through the crevasses and deep trenches of leveling up. That's that. Ayokong mabati ang character ko. Hehe.

So, that's that. Good afternoon. ü

Uhmm... I am overwhelmed.

What kind of a leader am I?! Instead of just doing our projects, here am I, doing my blog. Funny, ain't it?

So I guess my blog will be filled with nonsense. Better put, let's just fill it with nonsense!

• We have a lot of projects. We have thesis for our Filipino course, a presentation for Sociology-Anthropology subject and the ever-strenuous Computer practical exams that, if you missed, you'll die for sure! And guess what: we are lost! Hmm... And, adding insult to injury, I am a leader in one of those projects! It is not that I don't want responsibilities, but I don't want people to be leaning on me. A handful of people, that is. I am scared, because it is my first time to be actually going through the "being a leader" thing. Harhar.
• This is the worst of my days! My bag strap snapped, I wasn't able to get even 1 point for our recitation, my works are vigorously commented and my effort in changing clothes is for a useless cause: what a conundrum! I generally hate this day.
• About the recitation in Sociology-Anthropology, I am very disappointed. I studied, look at my book! It is highlighted! I am mad. That subject is not about who studied anymore but about who is able to write his answers beforehand in a piece of paper. Inasmuch as I wanted to curse, I know I did my best and I did study. I learned and not just wrote, duh! Grr! I am frustrated!
• Biochemistry! Biochemistry! I am really afraid of that subject. I may fail. Nooo! Don't fall to oblivion. Hold on. Help me!

So... I guess that is all. Nonetheless I must put everything to it. That is a promise.

Looks like I am stuck in the past these days.

I guess I am stuck in the past--still waiting and forever dreaming that someday things will return to the way they are. It is like standing in the middle of the rain, hoping that the sun will appear after I catch every raindrop the clouds heave upon my frail body. I feel so stupid right now, even if I know I am doing the right thing. What is happening to me? What have become of me? I am not like this before. I know I am even better back then. Just resting, jovial, almost excited, always amazed and incredibly hopeful--that is me.

Where is that man who said to himself that he will make better use of his God-given talents? Where is that man who said to others to wait and see what he can do to the world? WHERE is that man?

Generally, I am sad. I conclude, therefore, I am demented.

Scram.

I hate everything I have been doing to myself lately. I chose then chose not to; I hoped but hoped not to. What's wrong with me?? I haven't been "decisive" about everything that crossed my path. Is this, by any chance, the contradiction between a chance and a choice? I'm scared.

Okay, so what's up with my life? I guess, none YET. I have many things I am looking forward to and I hope my expectations won't dry out. Here are the updates:

(1) Toodleloo! We are going to Cebu tomorrow! Yatta~! But guess what: I am not excited! Good, ain't it? My original plan was boycott but I had to accompany them. The word "accompany" now seemed like going with a dog in the park! Creepy but true. O.o

(2) I am constantly praying for a high grade in Sociology & Anthropology course. Please, I beg of you, help me. No. Save me!

So I guess there are only two things. And it all comes down to this: why is it always up to number 2? Can't I update myself better? Can anybody help me with my grades? Can I at least achieve a third or so in my "updates" list? Can I write better questions?? Ok. I'm done with it.

Read the title. Scram. It's a word, duh.

Yatta~!

After a thousand tries, it has finally come down to this. Well, at least I am glad that I was able to open this, uhh, thing.

You see, I had been opening it since November and I was kind of hoping for some good comments. Unfortunately, the turn-out was zero; I have to declare first to my former classmates that I added a new post on my blog before they could even say to themselves that they remember. That is a bad thing: it only means that I am easy to be forgotten. Anyways, just an update, I will write again. Or so it seems.

For one, I am often ridiculed with many people. It is not because I think that I am being a paranoid, exclaiming with a satanic voice, "were you talking about me??" That would be the last thing I would do in a strange crowd. But, as my first statement goes, I really do no know hope to cope up with it. My sister said to me once that the difference between an animal and a human being is that we have schizophrenia; we have that distant voice in our heads that is telling us to always fight to reach the top and subjecting us to listen and conform with it. I guess that is not normal. If that is not normal, then maybe we are not just imperfect but really disarranged. You want proof? Go out with an insane woman then talk about being insane. Ooh, I do not make sense.

Second, just a speculation, I really am a loner. Boohoohoo. It is not that I seek for something special, it is that I expect more. I guess contentment is not in my system. I am always thirsty though drenched and always hungry though a cornucopia of delicacies is set before me. Is it greed? Avarice? Gluttony?? Of course not. IT is hunger. Feed me in an insaniquarium.

Hmm... I guess that's a wrap. There is nothing special, just private. And, as everybody does know, the net is not the place meant for secrets. Beware of the blackmail, says the ad. Hmm... I think this is a journal, not a diary, moreover psychotherapy. Haha.

Now, it is me.

It was so drastic--very drastic--that even others can see it. What a fool am I! All I can say is that, now, I am uncovered leaf after leaf. That is too embarrassing for me! Wah!

+The Lighter Side+

On the lighter side, I think I am, uhh... I can't think of anything good.

+Void: No Lighter Side+

I think the "shuffle" is hurriedly done. I mean, why the heck could there be an existing camaraderie of blockmates in just one section when there are others that are actually "shuffled"? No offense, but I don't like the whole idea. Why shuffle when we can't retain what that word really means?? Furthermore, if it is done "randomly", would it be a distilled chance that there would still be things that are unshuffled. Think about it.

Okay, so I am rude. I guess I am just mad.

Now, scram! Get lost. I am done.

Peace!

... I feared the worst... And it did happen.

Well, I wasn't able to write for so long is because I had been busy -- very busy with the matters of the heart. I know I must be open with you, I must. Or else, I might as well stick knives at everybody. For that, I am sorry -- I am sorry I forgot everything about my medicine.

For one thing, I theorize things and set them up. And here's the thing: I believe journal writing is psychotherapy. It is the only way we can divert our attention in crucial patterns of jovial massacre and a possible vendetta in our own backyard. If we could only let our killing pleasures --as how I "theorize" it would sound like-- suppressed, then this will be the best resort. This is, by far, the best damn thing ever (thinking about Avril).

Moving on, there are many things that happened with me these weeks. I will keep them summarized for you to analyze. Here it is:

(1) For a conclusion: I have been relieved. Finally. Finally the finals ended with a final blow. Ha ha. I am losing grip! Well, the final exams ended with a very cute credits. That's all I could say.

(2) Well, my heart will be gone forever. She will not come back. Come to think of it, she never really came. She was never by my side -- never.

(3) I am not really getting the hang of it. Maybe my fingers are too tired to be complying to my every moves. I am tired; the circles in my eyes are getting darker. And darker. Maybe someday those skins will be able to cover my eyes.

Me and My Head

Be imaginative.

Like a little boy I pondered about how the flower got its beauty and how the moon was able to lighten up the darkness in my heart. I wondered, dreamt and slept with all the mishaps and shattered promises written in my palm. And, as they slide slowly, being erased by the calloused being as with me, they are thrown away, as if we never met.

Have we met?

You are like that distant silhouette in the curtained blank mind of mine. You are unreal to me but in my mind was a distant shadow of our last meeting. We met, right? For we, in reality, met sometime below the blue moon. We.... Did we?

And alas, I wished. But, like any other fairy tale, my words got lost with its master, for no wish will come true without any will. I really thought you were mine.. But... Were you?

I am reminiscient. I remember.

It's funny how very predictable we were back then. The first thing we do in the morning is sob, cram, scram and run. With all that endless assignments, lengthy memorization materials and very frightening examinations, we always resort to one thing: cram.

Ahh yes, cramming is not abnormal in a student, especially in my kind of system nowadays. It is when you do something enjoying and relatively distracting thing before doing your assignment. for example, we always play RAKION (but we don't nowadays -__-") before getting home. When we get home, it is almost the same. We turn the PC on and log in in our yahoo! messenger account. It is like as if it is prerecorded and almost every day we do it. Funny? Yes... Very funny indeed.

But now it is so different--very different. You are given the chance to either do your assignment or not. You are free to get in the class or not. You are given with that much freedom that, all you have to do is pass the exam and it is all right. That is college life. You are on your own with nothing but faith and a little common sense.

Scary? Maybe. But it is all up to you.

God, I really miss the high school life. And it is all because of this certain fact: we were innocents back then. We always bear in mind that there will be something we get after we do something. We always put things for tomorrow for we think that we, with much persuasion, will no longer record the assignment and, to spice up the teacher's favor, entice her with much stories she can relate to.

We were innocents. We are reminiscient. We remember. We think. Therefore, we are.

I am symposium-ed!

Drumroll, please! (Tan-ta-na-nan!)

Yup, maybe he's right. I can't serve two masters at once. But, why the hell am I doing this instead of listening intently? Well, get ready.

The first time I saw the so-called "invitation," I was shocked. It doesn't look very inviting to me. Yes, very scary.

(Listening.)

.......

.......

........

..........

..........

(Not Listening.)

He said that I must get to know the peak of my power, the time where I am most active and presumably smarter. But, what if I am a nocturnal smart-ass, that is, a night-active person? Do I have to catch up with my sleep or study now, pay later? Hmm...

(Listening.)
.......
.......
........
..........
..........
(Not Listening.)

If you have a rascal inside the house who is, by the way, having this relative obsession in bugging your workplace, we have our guidelines to follow. First, you must clean whatever dirt there is. It is so that you can breathe fresh air. Go ahead and clean the whole house if you want to. The main point of this activity is that you will be comfortable nad convenient. After that, turn off every distraction there is--the TV, radio or your maid's ranting mouth, the latter to be done if deemed necessary. And, last one, tie that rascal on a wooden beam or something. Better yet, put him in a sack and throw him somewhere dark. After that, eternal bliss!

(Listening.)
.......
.......
........
..........
..........
(Not Listening.)

Playing is a necessity. A necessity is needed by a person to live. Playing, for us, is counter strike fever. Therefore, Counter Strike is a necessity. Now that's logic.

(Listening.)
.......
.......
........
..........
..........
(Not Listening.)

Now I am confused. Is it entirely bad to depend on others just because you want them to be with you? Excuse my selfishness, but I don't think it is sufficient enough to only need a person just because you want to take advantage over her abilities. It is not always like that. Maybe you need her entirely. Maybe, just maybe, you need her more than love.

(Listening.)
.......
.......
........
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..........
.......
.......
........
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(Save me from boredom!)

The Expected Messiah: No wonder Irony was Playing Its Part

The purest irony can only occur when you need it. Funny, ain't it?

Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. Funny, I thought, my sister's very very nervous. The result of the Nursing Board exam is coming up, and probably she's cringing about the news. Even I am really excited. But, here it goes.

The clock struck 8:00. I've been receiving texts from my x-classmates and blockmates that their sister, brother, cousin, niece, and almost everybody in their community had passed the board exam. I told my sister that the result is coming up. She looked up, wondering if she should slap me with her folder--the thick monstrosity all about mortgage--or throw me head first through the window. She did neither.

I texted my x-classmate, who was currently staring up at the list of successful examinees, to do me a little favor and look up my sister's name. Well, she replied that my sister was on the list. I told my sister, but she won't believe me. She is saying that she must see it herself. No wonder, I thought (again), it would be more compelling and believable to see it myself if I was in her place.

We turned the computer on and surfed the net. Now, even the computer isn't going as planned. I know it is supposed to be lightning-fast, as their ad was shouting, but the dial-up was better. Really better, I must say. And, because of that, we reverted to plan B.

What exactly is plan B? Well, to better explain it in few words, here it is: we went to PRC in person. My sister plotted this heinous crime. I was supposed to watch The Da Vinci Code on HBO! She ruined my dream of seeing the movie at a clear view, rather than the busted and pirated copy we owned. I want to watch The Da Vinci Code. I want to see it. Well, she pointed out, I have read the book version two times already, so, why watch if the book was better. She also reiterated that that moment was severe, and she really need our support. Well, she got a point. I sighed. Oh, well then.

My sister was shivering. It was very evident as we are en route to the place. I am, too, although I never believed that I too will gain from it. Anyways, after those hours I strained her from jumping out of the window because of nervousness, we finally arrived.

Now, something is weird. All of the other Board examination subjects are there, but the one we are supposed to be looking at wasn't there. We are like that rotating table because we are starting to look like as if other people will be frightened to stay near us. Even the guard was looking at us; I was starting to feel him reaching for the telephone receiver. Probably calling the mental asylum. From that point I urged my sister into believing that it was not yet posted. She was finally convinced, and we got out of that darn place promptly and foolishly. Hurrah.

Next, we went back to the road where my sister's boarding house was before, while studying for the exam. Ah yes, the memories. I remembered the times I walked these roads--these darn pathways--before getting to my sister's place.

Anyways, we decided (finally!) to settle to a computer cafe. See the irony? We went all the way to Manila just to go to a computer shop! If that's the case, then there are a handful of them back home in Pasig! Funny, ain't it?

So we rented two units. My sister was starting to surf the Internet, so did I. Darn it is still slow. And, in between of those desperations, I was stealing glances at the near unit to mine--he was now looking at that very list! I played it safe, and whispered to my sister that news. She stared to me, as if she was urging me to throw her outside. I decided not to. Even I am enjoying the suspense.

We asked kindly for that stranger to please look up at our name. God, even the man was slow! Sunday driving?! Anyways, we finally got to the section and there it was. My sister's name. Well, it was supposed to be glittering but what the heck. My sister was full of glee. Finally all our sordid thoughts stopped!

So we went to Manila to go to PRC and we didn't saw the list. So we went to a computer cafe and rented our own unit but ended up looking up at other's. So my sister passed that darn controversial test. So my sister is the expected Messiah, the savior of our race.

What the heck. My sister passed the exam!

Here's comes the truth... And it wil hurt...

I guess I don't really have to lie anymore. Yes, all of it was a lie. No wonder this happened to me.

You can look down at me. Don't worry, I deserve it. I mustn't be greeted with words of encouragement. I don't need them. Regrets? Yup, I have them--all of them, actually. If only we have done things we can, then maybe we can still be. But, that is its downfall. We didn't. If only things did their part, then we may still be as we are: one.

Are you able remember your word? Am I able to remember my reply? Is it human error? Are the angels playing their schemes against us?

If only I could answer my questions, I may still have no reservations about loving you. How stupid of me.

LSS

For these past days, many songs are running to my minds. Scary, huh? Fortunately, I know their titles. So, instead of repeating them over and over again, here's the lines that had been tingling in my ears.

o0O0o

Your way too beautiful girl,
that's why it'll never work,
you have me suicidal, suicidal,
when you say it's over,
damn all these beautiful girls,
they only wanna do ya dur,
they'll have you suicidal, sucidal,
when they say it's over,

o0O0o

I never felt nothing in the world like this before

Now I'm missing you & I'm wishing that you would come back through my door

Why did you have to go?
You could have let me know
So now I'm all alone,
Girl you could have stayed but you wouldnt give me a chance
With you not around it's a little bit more then i can stand
And all my tears they keep running down my face
Why did you turn away?

o0O0o

They tried to make me go to rehab but I said 'no, no, no'
Yes I've been black but when I come back you'll know know know
I ain't got the time and if my daddy thinks I'm fine
He's tried to make me go to rehab but I won't go go go

o0O0o

Hey there Delilah what's it like in New York City

I'm a thousand miles away but girl tonight you look so pretty

Yes you do

Times Square can't shine as bright as you

I swear it's true

o0O0o

And I don't know

This could break my heart or save me

Nothing's real

Until you let go completely

So here I go with all my thoughts I've been saving

So here I go with all my fears weighing on me

Three months and I'm still sober

Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers

But I know it's never really over

And I don't knowI could crash and burn but maybe

At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me

So I won't worry about my timing, I want to get it right

No comparing, second guessing, no not this time

Three months and I'm still breathing

Been a long road since those hands

I left my tears in but

I knowIt's never really over, no

Wake upThree months and I'm still standing here

Three months and I'm getting better yeah

Three months and I still am

Three months and it's still harder now

Three months I've been living here without you now

Three months yeah, three months

Three months and I'm still breathing

Three months and I still remember it

Three months and I wake up

Three months and I'm still sober

Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers

o0O0o

That's all!

Fragile: The second time

For sometime now, I really do not understand what the movie really is about. Every now and then, you can see children with their bones broken, as if it is only a stick. If the movie is all about that, maybe I will be able to break mine too. But, of course, not. The movie is really about obsession of a nurse to her patient.

This movie is about a certain person whom the name is easily forgotten, maybe because of it's familiar everywhere. Oh yeah, I remembered. Her name is Amy. It is also revolving around the incident between Charlotte and Mandy, and also the second floor mystery. Eerie at first, really.

Well, I am not revealing the plot. Because, if I do that, I will be a big spoiler in the movie industry. Especially, here in our country, plagiarism is very morbid. Everywhere, you can see pirated videos ranging from well-known movies to obscene ones. Well, enough with that.

I really am encouraging you to watch this movie. Even I am amazed. And, with that withstanding amazement, it makes you watch the movie again.

funny, ain't it?