In The Doldrums of Apathy  

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A man wanted to write a story that would change the world.

But he was too bored to scribble the first word. So bored that the Grim Reaper came while the man was doodling, but left when he couldn't talk the man into dying. Bored to death? No, Death got bored and left.

"How can you splash thoughts on paper when nothing of consequence ever happens to you?" said the man to himself. He wasn't surprised when nobody replied. After all, he was boring. So he let go of the dried out pen and took a walk outside.

He met a stranger carrying a sack of bloody bones. "Are those... human bones?" the boring man asked the stranger. "Yep. Met him yesterday." And with the sweat dripping from his forehead, the boring man kept on walking.

A woman came up to him and started quoting bible verses to him. "Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife!" preached the woman, while holding her underwear out to him. Again, the boring man kept walking.

As he was heading back home a great war erupted between the Irites and the Dews over who was the better basket-weaving people. The boring man found himself in the middle of a battlefield. Hundreds lay dead as women and children fled for their safety. But as Death still would not approach him, he kept on walking.

The boring man got home at last and decided to write about everything that had happened that day. He dipped his feather quill in ink, spread the pages of his journal open, and began writing. Page after page he scribbled feverishly hoping that he could put in as much detail as he could remember about the people he met and the war that he witnessed. When he was done, he held up his journal against the light of the oil lamp and smiled contentedly.

"Another disturbingly boring piece." he thought to himself. He called it "In The Doldrums of Apathy".



Making Sense Out of Chaos  

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Its all starting to make sense to me now...

Actually, its not. And I must warn you, neither will this post. One day its the biggest silent war on the planet, then its the realization of world peace on the next. Nothing makes sense now. Everything seems so surreal and disorienting. It's like I'm walking a very long and narrow path again with no light at the end of the tunnel. I keep trudging along until my feet wear out and the bloody bones in my heels are exposed to the dirt. I have always been one for transparency, but during these troublesome times I believe that there is a need for some degree of discretion. I dare not express my emotions freely for fear of being discovered. I will silently move forward, and see where the path takes me.

I feel like a juvenile Shakespeare stabbing madly at the soaked parchment with his quill, or an unhinged Van Gogh stroking the blank canvas with his thoughts. I am an artist with no medium, an obscure after-thought trapped in the mind of a psychopath. Society stares mockingly in anticipation of my next failure.

But despite all this, I walk on. I have to continue.

Do not look upon me with pity, for I have had enough of it. Instead, listen to what I am not telling you. Only then will things start making absolute sense.

The chaos will end soon enough, one way or another. It just has to.

Of Regrets and Salvador Dali  

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I'm letting my fingers loose on the keyboard again hoping they'll come up with something interesting. A lot has been going on these past few days, and right now I'm not sure how it all started anymore, nor do I know how its gonna end.

I'm riddling this post with images from Salvador Dali because they make that confused and disturbed feeling of disorientation seem beautiful.

I think I'm being devoured by my own stereotype. I have fallen victim to the vicious pattern again. Once again, I'm involved with somebody I shouldn't be involved with (according to the law, at least) and I think I like it. I'm in the danger zone again.

Then there's this other world that's trying to reel me in too. She's another person that I shouldn't associate myself with, but she gives such good head that I just can't get her (them) completely out of my system. I'm kidding, of course. Or am I...?

I miss my youth. Experience is a treasure but I just wish I was more prepared for them when they came. I miss being so recklessly careless, and not concerning myself with consequences. Experience tends to make you more wary of what would come next. Oh what I wouldn't give to take it all back.

I hate what I've become. And I fear what I would turn into.

The song keeps playing over and over in my head. It wants to come out. My musical growth has gotten so stunted that I fail to hear every note now. I can't express it. Its been held back for so long that I don't think I can reach deep inside to get to it anymore. Tragic.

So what if everybody looks at me funny? Prehistoric man used reserves of fat in their body to keep them going throughout the day. It was important for men to look like that back then. So I.. what was I talking about again?

I keep forgetting I still owe Lio Loco that Zafra book.

This is starting to become another bullet blog. I know because I keep pressing the space bar too many times again.

Paranoia is rearing its ugly head again. I keep thinking everybody in the team hates me. Or that they simply just don't like me. I'm all about team play but not when I'm in this twisted state of mind.

I also noticed I've been procrastinating since birth. There are so many things that I should've been done with by now, but haven't even started on yet. Like clean my room. I clean my room as often as I clear my head. I told myself I would reformat my computer 2 months ago. So I backed up my files onto my brother's external HDD, and then put them back on my computer 3 days later without reformatting. I wanted to quit smoking years ago, and I'm still trying to quit. And, what diet?

I feel so lost. There are these days when I feel like I just want to hide under a rock, but its so pathetic that I can't even find a rock big enough to conceal me.

What diet?

I don't know what I want now. Sure I want to be rich and successful, but how? I want my Mom to see me reach the top before God takes her away from me. I want to pay her back for everything. I already failed my Dad.

Envy. I have friends who are the same age as I am and they've gotten it made. They have 2 or 3 houses, cars, decent jobs, and a family of their own. I'm happy for them, really. I just wish life and luck were a little more objective is all.

What is my purpose? What lies beyond the horizon, I do not know. And I don't think I want to find out. So here's hoping I make it. If I don't, then I leave my collection of coins and stamps to my sister Marie.

There's one other recent chapter in my unending struggle called life that I failed to talk about in this post. That's because she doesn't talk about me in her posts either. I guess she never thought I'd ask.

My life has become dull and boring ever since I grew up. This is my come-uppance. This is karma at work. This, is the end of this post.

Rantings of a Lunatic  

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What the hell am I supposed to do with you now? Look at yourself, all curled up in the darkness. You're a complete mess. Were you thinking I wouldn't notice? I know you better than anyone else. Even better than you think.

So what, are you just gonna clam up and do nothing? She has something that belongs to you, damn it! Are you just gonna lie down and let her get away with that? Oh, so you gave it to her!? What the fuck were you thinking!? Why the hell did you give her your heart?

You're better than this. No? That's what you always tell yourself, and look at where that mentality brought you. Tell me, has it ever done you any good? Some idiots never learn you know.

Get up. Get rid of the vodka and wash the hell up. You reek. You look like a filthy hobo. Do you think she's just gonna hand it back to you because of pity? You really are pathetic.

Take it back. Go to her and take the damn thing back. Why not? It ain't hers, she doesn't even want it. Can't you see that? You're more of a loser than I thought.

Just look at her. Holding your heart out to you. Teasing you. Tempting you. Waiting for you to try and take it back so she can hurt you even more by pulling her hand back as soon as you try to reach out.

It's time you start getting a life moron. Hey, I said get a life, not take one. Let go of the fucking knife!

What? You look at me with that knife in your hand as if you had the guts to do anything. You were never worth anything, genius. Why do you think everybody keeps laughing at you? You think you're smart? You think they like you? You're nothing! You are obscurity personified.

You're hopeless. Get out of my head.

Tagged on the 13th (reposted from Multiply)  

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I noticed that there's a new form of chain mail going around on the world wide web. Unlike the Friendster bulletins that tell you to forward them stupid messages to as many friends as you possibly can in the next five minutes or else your mom's dog will get run over by your uncle Freddy's whore or this dead girl will come give you a hand-job in your sleep or something, this kind of chain mail is not so idiotic.

So I'm giving it a shot.

It's called
tagging, or so I think that's what its called. Somebody tags you, and you're supposed to say things about yourself and tag some other sucker who's supposed to say things about himself, and so on and so forth. Hence, the chain mail effect. Lio Loco tagged me on his blog site, and so did Messy Nuthead a few months back, and recently Eina did too on Facebook, so I decided to give it a go.

And oh, in commemoration of today's historic event -
Friday the 13th - I'm splashing 13 odd (and not so odd) things about me.

  1. I am (or at least try to be) ambidextrous. Though born right-handed, I can write legibly (enough) with my left hand. I shoot that jumper from the top of the key with my left hand, and I can play table tennis with both hands. I respectfully blame the greatest Pinoy southpaw, Allan Caidic, for this behavior.
  2. I have often been mistaken as a Chinese or Korean national. Though I am aware of my heritage, I can't speak a word of Chinese except when its time to bring out the tikoy and fireworks. Kung hei fat boy?
  3. I have spent time in prison. And I don't mean that figuratively.
  4. My left ear has an oddly different shape compared to my right ear. Got that from my Dad and Grandpa.
  5. I used to have really long hair, partly because I wanted to hide my ears and because I just thought it looked cool.
  6. I've never been good at romantic relationships, because relationships are supposed to be happy. I am not happy.
  7. I don't have a drop of alcohol in my body. Maybe a few buckets of it.
  8. I have the ability to procrastinate procrastination. I'll put off putting things off for tomorrow.
  9. I've had sex with one of my female supervisors in the workplace. Didn't see that one coming, did you?
  10. I am absolutely terrified by the screeching sound chalk makes on a blackboard, or by a pentel pen on paper, and by the noise of cooking oil when frying stuff.
  11. I am a solid San Miguel Beer fan since birth. I'm talking about the basketball team.
  12. I once taught somebody who was born with fingers only on his right hand how to play the guitar.
  13. Despite what you see, I am God-fearing and I trust Him with the decisions I make in life.
There.

So, in keeping up with tradition I am tagging the following 13 people: Alvin O., Bob Lennart, Kalbong Intsik, Lynn B., Cpie, Darxide, Emman O., DJ Chloe, Iñigo Carlo, Christian Giff, Jennakish, Kukuk, and Polay.

You guys have just been tagged!

Killing Cupid  

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I think this picture best exemplifies how much I hate Valentine's day.

Try as I might I can't deny the fact that this day always reminds me of how alone and miserable I've been these past few years. I mean, I go out on this day and all I see are mushy couples holding hands, or any other part of their anatomy for that matter. Why can't everybody just stay the hell away from me and make out somewhere else? For chris'sake get a gawd-damn room, I say to the lovestruck.

But this time though it wasn't so bad. I got to spend this year's hearts' day with
her. We didn't go out on a date, we just ate out. I went out to buy memory for my PC and she just went to the mall with me. She knows about how I feel for her and I know how she constantly tries not to break my heart too badly. It's like everything I've ever wanted, but couldn't have. Oh well.

So we ate, and while we were there I couldn't help but stare at her. I tried not to by just stabbing at the salad so as not to creep her out. I felt so happy inside that I was lost for words. So lost that I think she got bored. But we did talk about a few things, like family and stuff. It was great. After eating I thought about asking her to go see a movie with me, but I figured it was Valentine's Day, and we weren't on a date.

Then there was this half-second again where our eyes met, and it felt like time stood still. Or I wish it did. I wish I could capture that moment when she looked at me and never let it go.

But now it's time to go back to living reality. And I still hate Valentine's day.

3 AM  

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Here I go again.

I find it difficult to write about what's happening to me without talking about what's happening to her. How I feel is greatly affected by how she feels. But I feel that I have to let this out, so here goes.

I had learned to keep my feelings to myself, simply because she had made that choice a long time ago and that choice wasn't me. So I accepted defeat just like I always do. And life moved in slow motion. But I was OK, and things were actually doing better between the two of us.

Recently, the choice she made turned out to be a terrible one. Apparently, he had other choices to make. I will not go into details, because I respect her right to privacy. In short, that miserable low-life broke her heart. Now I'm not one to hurl blatant invectives (that's Lio's job), but he clearly deserves to be castrated in his sleep.

So I just happened to be there for her when she needed someone, and of course I was happy to let her lean her head on my figuratively - and literally - over-sized shoulders. We spent a few good hours together that morning, and I honestly felt good about being there to help.

Now allow me to digress a little. Remember when I said I didn't deal with rejection so easily? I still don't, but there are times when I would step back and wait, because I just couldn't take NO for an answer. That has been what's bothering me. Right now, I am so willing to play rebound, its actually pathetic. All because when she said hell no, I waited. Patience has a sick way of becoming my greatest strength and my downfall at the same time. So now I'm caught between sincerely wanting her to be alright, and simply wanting her, period.

So with some guilt, I put my hand in hers in an effort to comfort her, but I also ended up enjoying it. I had always dreamt about holding her hand, but at that moment it felt all wrong. I just knew it was. She was at her most vulnerable and here I was taking advantage. Everybody pull their gun out now and shoot me please.

Suddenly I found myself spiralling down this familiar path again. I don't know how long I can keep this up. I just know I'm gonna break sooner or later.

I want to hold her hand again. But not like this.

So I sigh.

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Stories from the Simian Crease by Binchee is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Philippines License.
Based on a work at binchee.blogspot.com