The past week was a pretty boring week. I basically stayed in my room after work and life was pretty dull. Except for the workload of course, which is increasing exponentially every day. I still feel a bit shaken from my current fam conflict, but then I try not to think about it (though I do dream about them sometimes).
But this week, I got to exchange a flood of emails with Anna, Claire and Wen. I also made plans with Claire to go to Singapore in May. I am excited about that. And of course, I exchanged emails with Shanghai boy and goddess so I feel pretty upbeat about that. Also, my sisters are coming over in May. It will mean a big dent in my pockets and in my still non existing savings, but I am excited that they are coming over. I know they are really looking forward to this trip and I want to make them happy.
Len and I did laundry today. We spent over two hours though for our laundry as we discovered too late that one -- no, two of the machines weren't working. But it was a fun two hours which we spent alternately reading and talking. Good thing Len allowed me to rant. It felt really good to get stuff off my chest. Then once we got home, I cleaned my room and arranged some stuff (which wasn't that hard since I don't have that much stuff to arrange). Then now I am here in the internet cafe trying to look over the cheapest flights to get to Singapore and to other countries (yes Len, I am so tempted to get a flight to Shanghai. hahaha...just kidding).
I am still currently debating whether I should go to Emporium to buy books, to Siam to buy clothes, to Foodland to buy food or just stay home and sleep. Or maybe I should go to the office and work? Hmm...naahh..it would just kill me probably.
I watched the movie 'Before Sunrise' (or was it after Sunset?) starring Ethan Hawke and this girl. It was a pretty cute movie. Not much action, just a boy and girl talking on the train, had chemistry, went to Vienna and talked some more while going around the city. Pretty cool. As usual, tinulugan ako ng kapitbahay ko while we watched the film. (first Reysiel, now Len...Ria, are you next?)
When we went to the Escudo bar last friday (for Andy F's farewell party I guess), I must have been a bit tipsy already because when I went to the bathroom, I just realized that I cut myself without even realizing it. There were blood around two of my fingers. Anyway, the next day, I discovered a cut on one of my knuckles and my paranoid mind was thinking it was a glass lodged (for forever it seemed to me). And I had these thoughts about tetanus infection. But last night, while watching a movie, I just mindlessly plucked it out and it was gone, just like that. Makes me realize that I do worry over really really small things which have really simple solutions.
This post has become a mindless chitchat thing. Have to stop my blabbering and be back with something useful and profoundly useless. :)
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Sunday, March 13, 2005
theatrical Monday..
I hate feeling sad without knowing the reason for the sadness. Makes me wonder if I am teetering between the cliff called sanity and the abyss named madness.
I hate being happy one second, then depressed the next. It makes the latter feel even more pronounced, more prolonged, more painful.
I hate not having anything substantial to look forward to in the future.
I hate the feeling of lacking anything. Makes my life seem inadequate and meaningless.
I hate feeling I lack something, when everyone else around me says otherwise. It makes me feel stupid, ungrateful, thoughtless, inconsiderate and selfish.
And most of all, I hate feigning happiness, when in fact the very opposite is what I exactly want to feel at the moment.
PS. So strange that after writing this, I immediately feel better now. hahaha. I suppose I just needed an outlet for my theatrical moments. :)
I hate being happy one second, then depressed the next. It makes the latter feel even more pronounced, more prolonged, more painful.
I hate not having anything substantial to look forward to in the future.
I hate the feeling of lacking anything. Makes my life seem inadequate and meaningless.
I hate feeling I lack something, when everyone else around me says otherwise. It makes me feel stupid, ungrateful, thoughtless, inconsiderate and selfish.
And most of all, I hate feigning happiness, when in fact the very opposite is what I exactly want to feel at the moment.
PS. So strange that after writing this, I immediately feel better now. hahaha. I suppose I just needed an outlet for my theatrical moments. :)
everyday musings from a distraught mind...
I haven't updated my blog in quite a while (since my birthday anyway). Which is quite ironic since so many things have happened since February. Why do I have this penchant to want to record events when nothing of import is happening then become too lazy to write when too many things are happening in my life?
These past two weeks I have done things which would have surprised even me, and I felt that I have crossed over the boundary of optimism and pessimism and went straight into the travails of cynicism. It is almost funny that these days, I harbor no hope at all of things getting better for me, of growing as a person, of meeting that One Great Love, of finding that life Treasure, of following my own dreams and ambition. It is as if somehow I have come to realize that that kind of existence isn't for me, that that it isn't my reality at all. And with this realization came a quiet acceptance that this is as good as life gets. If it gets better, then well and good, but I don't really expect it to.
I've been reading two of Paolo Coelho's books lately (courtesy of eileen) and its tragically funny to note the dissonance between what he is saying in his books and the events happening in my life. Instead of doing my one great passion, of finding my dreams and doing what I am born to do, I am now stuck in life's rat race. I am in a profession that wasn't even part of my childhood aspirations, doing something everyday that does not really add to my sublime happiness. The promise of a lifetime of epiphany does not really become a reality for me.
Yet what is more funny (or more pathetic) is that when I am asked what I want to do that would make me really happy, I really don't have an answer. I have this sudden impulses to become a writer, a journalist, a documentary filmmaker for Discovery channel -- yet that is what they all are. Sudden impulses. I have no burning childhood ambition, no long lost dream, no visions of what I can do to radically change the face of humanity.
So maybe I am just this pragmatic, shallow, superficial, materialistic individual reduced to living life on earth to fulfill basic survival instincts. I could apologize for being that kind of person, but I am not. I can pretend to be profound and deep and say that I have always had this burden of being blah blah blah, but I cannot. I prefer practicality over dreams, of survival over visions, of the present instead of the unknown future. And thus I sadly declare that I am doomed to a lifetime of perfect mediocrity.
These past two weeks I have done things which would have surprised even me, and I felt that I have crossed over the boundary of optimism and pessimism and went straight into the travails of cynicism. It is almost funny that these days, I harbor no hope at all of things getting better for me, of growing as a person, of meeting that One Great Love, of finding that life Treasure, of following my own dreams and ambition. It is as if somehow I have come to realize that that kind of existence isn't for me, that that it isn't my reality at all. And with this realization came a quiet acceptance that this is as good as life gets. If it gets better, then well and good, but I don't really expect it to.
I've been reading two of Paolo Coelho's books lately (courtesy of eileen) and its tragically funny to note the dissonance between what he is saying in his books and the events happening in my life. Instead of doing my one great passion, of finding my dreams and doing what I am born to do, I am now stuck in life's rat race. I am in a profession that wasn't even part of my childhood aspirations, doing something everyday that does not really add to my sublime happiness. The promise of a lifetime of epiphany does not really become a reality for me.
Yet what is more funny (or more pathetic) is that when I am asked what I want to do that would make me really happy, I really don't have an answer. I have this sudden impulses to become a writer, a journalist, a documentary filmmaker for Discovery channel -- yet that is what they all are. Sudden impulses. I have no burning childhood ambition, no long lost dream, no visions of what I can do to radically change the face of humanity.
So maybe I am just this pragmatic, shallow, superficial, materialistic individual reduced to living life on earth to fulfill basic survival instincts. I could apologize for being that kind of person, but I am not. I can pretend to be profound and deep and say that I have always had this burden of being blah blah blah, but I cannot. I prefer practicality over dreams, of survival over visions, of the present instead of the unknown future. And thus I sadly declare that I am doomed to a lifetime of perfect mediocrity.
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