Zenlike Lunatics

There are just some people who are out rightly verbose, and that is just the way they are. There are those that prefer to keep silent, like wallflowers, but in actuality, they are those that are snickering in the back of everyone else's back, laughing at the absurdity of all that is happening, taking note of all the zooms and bangs and crashes, and like some indifferent sons-of-bitches laughing their heads off. And there are those that are taken-in-quick, lost in all the flurry, and it is those people that are great targets for angst. These places in space are interchangeable, and after finding yourself in one or more out of these seemingly unstable situations, you can't help but feel the moment, you can't help but feel victim to certain circumstances, but after getting into that cycle, you just realize how pathetic it is to actually keep holding on, but can't wipe of that silly grin on your face knowing that you have sensually enjoyed the joyride, and realize that it all will be a blur, so the wisest thing to do is immerse yourself in the acid but keeping a thin line of thread hanging on to your head.

Had a talk with my friend about how he finds it odious to follow values that he has not carefully examined. I guess we have all been victims of that, I know that I have, but certain themes that are appearing in my life have reinforced the need for careful examination. Well, there's that small problem of my big boo-boo, but there is also that great question of living certain lifestyles that would suit your values or things that are of utmost importance to you.

I believe in the process of destruction and recreation. I believe in the process of keeping that old, rotten characteristic of yours. It is now that I realize that I do not believe in clean slates. There is no clean slate. Once you decide on something, the residue will haunt you. And that residue need not maintain its characteristic. What it can do is to magically change its form into something that is more flourishingly progressive.

It felt empty having to discuss meaning with yourself everyday. But once you hit the a-ha! button of OH-MY-GOD what was I thinking? and realize how meaning is derived not out of sparring with it in the space within the recesses of your brain, nor releasing it into the wild and having it set free out of its leash, but actually finding it in more claustrophobic places like that seemingly mundane walk of yours towards the foot bridge, by golly, I believe that it is then that you have achieved mental absolution.

Thank god for thesis and antithesis!

Somehow I am feeling like everything has been drained out of my system, and I cannot find the energy to do things. Talked to my mom over cake, and I kept mentioning how I am finding it difficult to find myself in things that I am currently involved in, in connections that I am part of. There's this feeling in my stomach, and I guess it is literally translating into something unpleasant because I am feeling acidic all over. I do not feel any gusto, and it makes me want to reset my life and clean my slate for the sake of knowing myself again. My mom suggested that I try meditating more often, and how I should reflect by my lonesome. That would be a good suggestion, if not only for the fact that I have been spending a lot of time by myself and even in those moments I cannot organize myself. The only tempting thing to do is to disassociate myself from a lot of things. I cannot find myself in anything, and it really is tiring.

Limelight

One of the most meaningful nights in the past two years took place last night. Something that I could not fully express due to reasons that imposition-is-just-not-my-style-like have been realized by another, and it just put the connection a notch higher. I've written about it in my journal, but the sheer beauty of the moment cannot be put into a mere narration of events (as what I did during Unson's class for the sake of NOT forgetting it), which is what I am doing now, so as not to forget.

So what.

Staying in Katipunan is one thing, being left to think about where your life is going is another. Recently, running has been my activity, and I can think of anything and everything. After running, my mind is alert, and it stays that way until the wee hours of the morning, which is sad because even while sleeping, I dream of everything that has kept me worried for the last four years.

Months of endless troubleshooting is causing me to not care, and it is scary because I actually find myself laughing at things I should be giving importance to. Maybe it's because in my head, there is nothing really that serious to take seriously right now. I don't know, I just don't care much about anything or anyone right now, and it is friggin' hilarious.

If you want to shout out to the world, but stopped suddenly, you want to crawl back into your conch and become a hermit. You want to rely on the hands of time to get you through the day, you want the earth to rumble so you can travel to whichever god-forsaken place you need to be. And somehow you just can't get out of yourself for another person, and it sucks like hell because you wanted it to be perfect, but it all goes back to the cycle of wanting-not receiving-not giving.

Brain-spaces

Had butterflies in my stomach one night, but I sink in despair of thinking that I am becoming insensitive, not thinking of that person in that light. With the air of the sea taking me to places in a year, and with the mundane pulling me in another direction, and with family ties-whines pulling my left foot, and my own selfish womyn-whims pulling at my other, I am scared that expectation has gone down the drain while I was imitating the Gwyneth-Sylvia-moment in the bathtub. And it goes to crazytown as I ponder on whether he still thinks about me in that way.

Just had a soulful night; and I almost didn't have it. I was motivated to clean the dirty clean kitchen in our house. I thought of how the kitchen was under-utilized. The oven is barely-used, the counter-tops are just storage spaces. No kitchen-activity going on, all right. Then I think about what people would think when they saw this kitchen. It looked splendid in a sense that it might have come from an interior design magazine, but it was just that. I ended up hating it as connections with the moral disorder would just arise.

Xandro called me up one evening. It was during the day when I texted him that I was staying in Katipunan because of my load. Thinking about the Xandro-Claire tandem gives me goosebumps. In a bad and good way; they have this certain lifestyle that it also characteristic of the Tiglao family, and it makes me feel comfortable but distressed as well; I don't know if I share this view with anyone. I want to be independent soon, and I can't help but feel like scrutiny will pounce on me in places seemingly familiar. HMM.. :(

Just can't get enough of that hair