NO IT'S OK ACE, YOU CAN THROW MY SUNGLASSES IN THE OCEAN. NO BIG DEAL. JUST CRUSH MY HEART. NBD MAN.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Pasalubong
Ace and I's bro keychains
Macadamia isn't considered a word on Facebook.
Keychains, keychains.
Assumed Apathy
In the silent commotion that this has been assumed to be, I had been caught completely off guard. The heat rises in my body and I try to find the right words to describe. But there are no right words. They are all wrong. If I had chosen the wrong words, I still claim them.
I don't know. I'll be at my cave.
I don't know. I'll be at my cave.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
7:12am, where is my sleep?
I'm getting worse and worse. Nothing works. What is it to have a normal sleeping schedule? Sleep by 11, awake by 8. How's that feel? Do the birds sound better when you slept the night before? My mind swims in the deep of ocean of my filthy, sad, amusing, unsettling, haunting, and restless thoughts. No matter how exhausted I am and how many exhausting things I do through out the day, my body cannot sleep at night. I feel like the Machinist. I AM the Machinist.
An entire year with out sleep. The Machinist (a film I recommend, by the way).
An entire year with out sleep. The Machinist (a film I recommend, by the way).
I don't remember being a senior in high school.
I have solid memories of my freshman year, my sophomore year, and my junior year. But I don't remember senior year. At all. I don't remember being there. I don't remember being with my friends. I don't remember learning anything, experiencing or participating to anything related to school. I don't remember struggling to wake up in the morning. I don't remember the car rides to school. I don't remember being in class. I don't remember going on breaks or lunch time. I don't remember my after school activities. I don't remember dating some guy for 10 supposed months. I don't remember spending the nights doing homework or even wasting time away online. I don't remember falling asleep, thinking I have school the next day. I don't remember being excited for Fridays or doing anything during the weekends at all. I don't remember friends. I don't remember so many things. It's as if I didn't exist that year at all. It's strange to me, especially when I see photos of myself from that year. If those photos didn't exist, I would have no recollection of those memories.
In senior year, I just remember fucking up. I remember convincing myself that I loved some guy in order prove the world that I'm alright. I remember loving this girl who drove me insane beyond words. I remember rainy days and lonely nights. I remember going home from where ever and feeling the weight of everything on my shoulders. I remember neglecting my family. I remember being the most selfish I could ever be. I remember ruining a few friendships and neglecting several. I remember feeling as if I didn't possess a single recognition of who I thought I was. I pretended to be so many things just to make myself feel better. I pretended to be happy. I pretended to be in love with the wrong person. I pretended to be strong. I pretended to know exactly who I was and what I was doing. I remember flying, falling, then crashing and burning. I remember falling apart all the time. All the things I remember have no hints of happiness. All the things I remember were all the things that had me on my knees, scraping myself off the ground, and pick myself back up to something better. Some better version of myself. And since I've said goodbye to the worst of myself, I don't remember what had happened.
Every now and then, I would find myself having flashbacks of things that happened that year. But they're usually the really bad memories, or memories that hurt to think about. Other than that, it is as if I didn't exist that year at all...
It kills me sometimes. Was I...really there?
"You're constantly updating your hit parade of your ten biggest wanks"
Sleepless after hours in my cave, every night.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Misanthropy
That overstatement is just the result of my unbearable irritation towards human interaction lately. I can't exactly put a finger on this, I just know that my "mood" is currently selective and I am fully aware of being a cunt, but I can't help it. Sometimes, it feels good to be a cunt. Sometimes, you have to be a fucking cunt.
It's not that I am unhappy or discontent. Which really isn't the case at all. In fact, today I found myself overwhelmed with the most unexpected joys that my life offers me. But there are those certain aspects of life that creep their way into my consciousness. And I realize it, more often than not, especially when I am around... people. Anywhere really. In class. In parking lots. In grocery stores. As long as there are people... talking or breathing next to one another, I rather become irritated. It's almost frustrating myself because it's not like I'm choosing to be so irritable. It just shines over me. Solitude has been much better for me, with the very, very rare exceptions of company.
To narrow this down: Sometimes I just can't stand listening to the things that people say. It's these arguments that really grind my gears. Whenever I hear a pointless argument, a debate in which voices must rise and tones must heat up, I very well find myself getting quieter and feeling as if my brain will hop out of the cavity in my skull and jump off the nearest cliff that this state has to offer. I detest it. Everyone has got a fucking opinion. It's nice to be quite talkative and conversational sometimes, but there are times when it is best to keep your dripping mouth shut. Sometimes, it is best to keep that disagreeing response to yourself and let go of it before it leads to another useless and counterproductive salivating dispute. For fuck's sake, is it such a difficult concept to understand that not all opinions should be shared? Not everyone wants to hear every single little detail running through your mind. And fuck who ever told you that it's alright to say whatever you please. Freedom of speech does not advocate stupidity, I assure this. Unfortunately, the concept of freedom of speech has made those who can't grasp a fucking filter, stupider and stupider by every statement made.
With this, I realized why I find myself so quiet at times with some discussions. If I lack information about a certain topic, I try to keep my statements to a minimal or say nothing at all in hopes not to seem stupid. If I know enough information about a certain topic, I try to keep my statements too embellished. In other words, I just state exactly what I know. If I know a certain topic really well and disagree with someone about that certain topic, I try to state my perspective and make it clear that it is, as it is, MY perspective. If I know a certain topic really well and the person that disagrees also knows the topic really well, generally, the argument concludes and finds some resolution of "agreeing to disagree." (Unless of course that the well-informed person is just a cunt and isn't willing to realize that they can't change the person's perspective. And continues on to an endless and futile exchange of words. This happens more often.) Otherwise, these are the arguments worth arguing for. I have noticed that people do not usually go about the same with conversations as I do. Which is why I find myself in the middle of people arguing over their sides as if they are hanging on for dear life while I'm sitting there or standing perhaps, shaking my head or maybe even rolling my eyes and casually saying in the words of Raemon, "I'll stay out of this one." (Raemon, by the way, is the perfect person to argue with).
In short, people are irritating. Sometimes, people argue. Sometimes, people argue and sound really stupid. Since people are irriating and sometimes argue to sound stupid, I conclude with either acquire a filter and a semblance of intelligence or SHUT THE FUCK UP. I'm sure everyone has been prime suspect for sounding stupid, including myself. But isn't it best to try and avoid that as best as possible? No? I just loathe the screaming and talking over one another, the shrillness of useless words. It has a certain sound that make my ears bleed.
This rant was brought to you by ...people. The scattering of arguing and slobbering people that brought me all that this rant brought to you. Thank you and good night America.
It's not that I am unhappy or discontent. Which really isn't the case at all. In fact, today I found myself overwhelmed with the most unexpected joys that my life offers me. But there are those certain aspects of life that creep their way into my consciousness. And I realize it, more often than not, especially when I am around... people. Anywhere really. In class. In parking lots. In grocery stores. As long as there are people... talking or breathing next to one another, I rather become irritated. It's almost frustrating myself because it's not like I'm choosing to be so irritable. It just shines over me. Solitude has been much better for me, with the very, very rare exceptions of company.
To narrow this down: Sometimes I just can't stand listening to the things that people say. It's these arguments that really grind my gears. Whenever I hear a pointless argument, a debate in which voices must rise and tones must heat up, I very well find myself getting quieter and feeling as if my brain will hop out of the cavity in my skull and jump off the nearest cliff that this state has to offer. I detest it. Everyone has got a fucking opinion. It's nice to be quite talkative and conversational sometimes, but there are times when it is best to keep your dripping mouth shut. Sometimes, it is best to keep that disagreeing response to yourself and let go of it before it leads to another useless and counterproductive salivating dispute. For fuck's sake, is it such a difficult concept to understand that not all opinions should be shared? Not everyone wants to hear every single little detail running through your mind. And fuck who ever told you that it's alright to say whatever you please. Freedom of speech does not advocate stupidity, I assure this. Unfortunately, the concept of freedom of speech has made those who can't grasp a fucking filter, stupider and stupider by every statement made.
With this, I realized why I find myself so quiet at times with some discussions. If I lack information about a certain topic, I try to keep my statements to a minimal or say nothing at all in hopes not to seem stupid. If I know enough information about a certain topic, I try to keep my statements too embellished. In other words, I just state exactly what I know. If I know a certain topic really well and disagree with someone about that certain topic, I try to state my perspective and make it clear that it is, as it is, MY perspective. If I know a certain topic really well and the person that disagrees also knows the topic really well, generally, the argument concludes and finds some resolution of "agreeing to disagree." (Unless of course that the well-informed person is just a cunt and isn't willing to realize that they can't change the person's perspective. And continues on to an endless and futile exchange of words. This happens more often.) Otherwise, these are the arguments worth arguing for. I have noticed that people do not usually go about the same with conversations as I do. Which is why I find myself in the middle of people arguing over their sides as if they are hanging on for dear life while I'm sitting there or standing perhaps, shaking my head or maybe even rolling my eyes and casually saying in the words of Raemon, "I'll stay out of this one." (Raemon, by the way, is the perfect person to argue with).
In short, people are irritating. Sometimes, people argue. Sometimes, people argue and sound really stupid. Since people are irriating and sometimes argue to sound stupid, I conclude with either acquire a filter and a semblance of intelligence or SHUT THE FUCK UP. I'm sure everyone has been prime suspect for sounding stupid, including myself. But isn't it best to try and avoid that as best as possible? No? I just loathe the screaming and talking over one another, the shrillness of useless words. It has a certain sound that make my ears bleed.
This rant was brought to you by ...people. The scattering of arguing and slobbering people that brought me all that this rant brought to you. Thank you and good night America.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
"Infallible"
After an entire day of this nonsense....
I woke up today to find that Blogger is finally getting its shit together. But to check up on my blog, I found that Blogger deleted my most recent post entitled "Infallible". It's not in my edited posts, or saved anywhere. Really, it's nowhere to be found. Considering that it was a narrative post about something rather sensitive to me, I can't exactly rewrite to re-post it. Sigh. Well there isn't exactly a point to this particular entry. I just felt as if I was like under the constant Tumblr struggle when Tumblr informs its Tumblees that they will "Be back shortly." I checked every second, every few hours. Once distracted enough and forgotten, I would get entry ideas and click the Blogger bookmark only to find that they are still going under technical difficulties and I would scream or yelp in agony. Rae kept laughing at me because my reactions were identical. The same big-eyed, lump-in-throat, pouting cry when I see that same UNAVAILABLE word. I repeated the same reaction 3 consecutive times. Like a dumb pet. It was 3 in the morning and I was still pouting about technical difficulties.
Now I can't help but think how precious this blog has been to me. Though truth be told, I would rather it not mean anything for I don't wish to have any sort of internet attachment to any websites. But I just can't help it. I am most expressive here.
Don't do it again Blogger. Now I learn you are certainly...not infallible.
Now I can't help but think how precious this blog has been to me. Though truth be told, I would rather it not mean anything for I don't wish to have any sort of internet attachment to any websites. But I just can't help it. I am most expressive here.
Don't do it again Blogger. Now I learn you are certainly...not infallible.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Melanie Quinteros
-Favorite picture of us. It best describes us.
I have known Melanie Quinteros for nearly 6 years and our friendship has never faltered. These past 6 years, we have had ups, only ups. When we are not having ups, we have silences and fade off from each other for a bit of time. But not long after it, we come back and remind ourselves about how we have been apart and each time this happens, our friendship grows fonder and better than before. Melanie is one of the best friends I have ever had. Not once have we ever had any female issues with each other. We have never fought nor quarreled. When there had been things to stir up our friendship, we always took each others' sides and got passed them seamlessly. Today is Melanie's 19th birthday and I had one of the best days with her. I laugh like such a hyena when I am with her. She's the friend that I hang with and all the stupid things that we say, we laugh with our horse teeth out. I have reached a level of comfort with Mel that makes me feel carefree and full of laughter and appreciated! She always makes me feel appreciated.
I love Melanie more than I ever realize sometimes. I regret under-acknowledge her significance in my life. But on those really good days, I am reminded how amazing it feels to have Melanie. She reminds me of laughter. Good, wholesome, refreshing laughters. I love you Mel.
I love Melanie more than I ever realize sometimes. I regret under-acknowledge her significance in my life. But on those really good days, I am reminded how amazing it feels to have Melanie. She reminds me of laughter. Good, wholesome, refreshing laughters. I love you Mel.
Bossman of the house
Driving when barely conscious is like driving under the influence. Sort of. Not really. Maybe I'm always just quite imaginative. Music is foundation. It ties me up together and makes sense of the colors and smells and even temperatures. Faces turn upside down, eyes fishing over cheeks and over steering wheels.
This week my parents have gone off to be their adventurous selves to celebrate their 20th anniversary. 20. That's how old I will be in just a few months. God I am proud of them. I hope they have a fantastic week without their two brat daughters and obnoxious son and the rest of their parental responsibilities. In the mean time, I am bossman. I should be ecstatic but the thought just makes me feel sleepy. Drive here, drive there, feed them. But... anything for my parents. They deserve this week off.
This week my parents have gone off to be their adventurous selves to celebrate their 20th anniversary. 20. That's how old I will be in just a few months. God I am proud of them. I hope they have a fantastic week without their two brat daughters and obnoxious son and the rest of their parental responsibilities. In the mean time, I am bossman. I should be ecstatic but the thought just makes me feel sleepy. Drive here, drive there, feed them. But... anything for my parents. They deserve this week off.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Pallid
Of all my innocuous decisions and silly whims, I think wallowing was my personal and ridiculous favorite. I think forcing myself to feel sad and lay in bed and listen to pretty little songs can convince me enough that there is something going on inside me. Something greater than anger or greed or something more profound, I think. It all makes sense, this nonsense, why I always get myself tangled in some raveled affairs. If it doesn't make me feel nothing, it makes me feel angry. And if not angry, then it makes me feel greedy. And if not greedy, then I feel something more profound, I think. And if not something more profound, then nothing. Nothing at all. All over again. Affairs are the funniest things. They're clever really. They become some unspoken and unknown section in your seemingly complete life. They're affairs after all. Kept hidden is best possible. But you make noises, you know. Buried under blankets and pillows that aren't yours. And noises are sounds that may or may not be heard. But they're still sounds. Which means someone always knows. Always.
There's one beaming flaw as a participant in some of my then affairs. I tend to find myself giving in and breaking apart. That one beaming flaw was that same personal favorite. The more I try to make sense of it, of any of it, and the more I try to win, the more I get sucked into these whirling messes. Even the residual taste of it all... sometimes I get wrapped up in that same fantasy. I don't know why. For things that no longer exist inside me or around me, I have quite the knack for transforming it back to its awful tangibility.
You are all ghosts to me. Haunting me. Finding me when I'm lost then taking me away into your darkness estranged from whatever I consider my reality. You don't have to be real, or present, or any longer existing. The fainter you are, the more I try to remember and place myself in the same shoes. The same worn out shoes that I should have thrown away, but instead hid under my bed.
You are all ghosts to me.
There's one beaming flaw as a participant in some of my then affairs. I tend to find myself giving in and breaking apart. That one beaming flaw was that same personal favorite. The more I try to make sense of it, of any of it, and the more I try to win, the more I get sucked into these whirling messes. Even the residual taste of it all... sometimes I get wrapped up in that same fantasy. I don't know why. For things that no longer exist inside me or around me, I have quite the knack for transforming it back to its awful tangibility.
You are all ghosts to me. Haunting me. Finding me when I'm lost then taking me away into your darkness estranged from whatever I consider my reality. You don't have to be real, or present, or any longer existing. The fainter you are, the more I try to remember and place myself in the same shoes. The same worn out shoes that I should have thrown away, but instead hid under my bed.
You are all ghosts to me.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Final surprise to a really good day
"Reach under your seat." I think I panicked. I don't know why. I just did.
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