You float like a feather in a beautiful world, you’re so fucking special
I wish I was special
Mga bandang alas-tres na ata ng hapon at nakahiga pa rin ako sa sahig. Hindi ko alam kung bakit. Siguro mas emo tignan ‘pag dito sa lapag nagninilay-nilay. May essence kasi ng comfort ‘pag sa kama. Then again mukhang nag-mutiny lahat ng libro ko at ilang damit na dapat sana’y isusuot ko pamasok kanina, so baka mas mukha akong star ng music video ‘pag sa kama ako humiga at nag-isip. Making sense out of chaos, ganong shit.
Pangatlong draft na ‘to. Kanina kasi, nung nasa kanto ako, naisip ko masaya siguro i-translate yung mga huling minuto dito sa blog na ‘to ala Hemingway’s Clean Well-Lighted Place. Ang kapal lang ng mukha ko diba. Still. Yung unang version, English. Pero ‘pag dating sa second paragraph medyo nahiya ako at naisipan kong gawing third person, kaso tinamad ako ibahin lahat ng pronoun. So dinelete ko at sinimulan sa tagalog. Pero obviously walang nangyari, so ito, stream of consciousness approach na lang uli. Parang may tama lang.
Total, ganon naman ang pakiramdam ko ngayon eh. Saktong dalawang araw na ‘kong hindi umiinom, bagong record ‘yun kasi nasanay na ata ako sa every other day inuman habit ng Kalayaan Alcoholics Anonymous. Yung nung isang araw, napadpad kami sa Skygarden at tumira ng Antonov Vodka. Bad move, sakit sa ulo. Beer is better.
Ayun nga, kung may salita mang makakahuli ng kung ano ang nararamdaman ko ngayon, ito ay ang salitang ”drunk”. Hindi naman pala kasi requirement ang alcohol para sa out of body experience ng pagiging wasak. Which lately, I seem to be feeling.
Kung ako ay isang itlog, isa akong sunny side up.
Naiirita ako kanina at sabay nag-break down sa awit ng Radiohead ala Nora Aunor sa hindi ko malamang rason. Nakakapagod na isipin. Nakakapagod na mag-isip, frankly. Tignan mo, alas-kwatro na at hindi ako pumasok, ergo nakatambay lang ako buong araw at binusog ng luto ni Inay, pero yung productivity level ko, negative infinity pa din. Unless you count reading fashion blogs and tweeting angst through 140 characters productive.
Naconclude ko kanina na baka may mild case na ako ng depression, pero feeling ko napaka-paradoxical non mainly for two reasons. O sige na nga, three. Una, kung ako ay isang likha ni Murakami, sabi nung kaibigan ko ako daw si Midori. That translates to being lively, vivacious, outgoing, blah blah, according to Wikipedia. Therefore, hindi maaaring mag-fit yung symptoms ng depression sa kaso ko kasi nga napakadaldal ko at sa palagay ko naman, napakarami kong kaibigan para maramdaman yung isolation. Second reason, napaka-arte ko naman kung magiging depressed ako. Kasi diba, I have everything I could possibly need, and/or want, depende na sa’yo, o minalas na reader, kung maniniwala ka man sa hierarchy of needs ni Maslow. So, para namang rich kid problems kung magiging depressed ako just for the sake of finding something wrong in my otherwise perfect life. Pangatlo at isiningit na rason, iniisip ko kung dahil pa rin ba kay J kung bakit ang labo ko na kausap simula nung maghiwalay kami. Pero naisip ko, hindi rin siguro, and I use siguro because any concept or sense certainty is a big prank, anyway, kasi una saglit lang kami nun, pangalawa hindi naman ako forever alone simula nung break-up, may iilan na rin namang dumaan, nauntog so lumayas, at kung tama man yung basa ko sa signals nung isa, meron naman akong kinaiinterasan who’s returning the favor sa ngayon.
Masyadong maraming phrases ang trip ko sa bawat sentence. Sino ba yung writer na hindi gumagamit ng period, kasi gago siya at trip niya man-troll? Basta. Ayun. Trip ko masyado maraming ideas sa isang sentence parang nag-rarap lang.
Anyway this paragraph does not make sense, like I don’t. Like writer like write-up. What the fuck. Next..
So ayun nga, naisip ko tama yung isang philosopher nung sinabi niyang the only cure for
mental illness the problems of the heart (metaphorically speaking ‘to ah, hindi ako nag-eemo para sa isang carbon-based life form, heart = head, go figure twisted logic) is manual labor. Naglagay ako ng dalawang patak ng Clorox sa isang timba ng tubig at inakyat sa kwarto para maglampaso. Not the lampaso na nakatayo ah, yung as in nakaluhod ka sa floor, using a small rug to scrub every inch of your floor. Like that. I felt like Judy Ann Santos, ang saya.
Pero hindi naman din ata effective. So triny ko pa at nagayos nung bedside bookshelf ko. I felt some small sense of control coming back when I arranged the pieces according to my Beatrice Tulagan Classification System Which Usually Lasts For Three Days Because Order is My Weakness, i.e. Philosophy, books I’m reading at the moment, De Beauvoir kasi pinahiram ako ng Ethics of Ambiguity nung isang araw, and some classics na masarap tignang pakalat-kalat kasi feeling mo ang talino mo na you’re granted of their presence in your room. But of course I collapsed on my bed, surrounded by my books and papers and discarded outfits supposedly for today. So cliche nga eh. Ito yung grunge rock video moment ko, with matching ulan. So I transferred to the floor para mas feel, pero sumakit likod ko so I transferred back to my bed, my private hell, ala Alice in Chains.
Walang sense ‘tong paragraph na ‘to, uli. Teka. Isa pang attempt at coherence.
Wala akong maisip na catchy phrase
I really don’t know if gravity decided to take part in bringing me down further, but that’s just how I felt, how I’ve been feeling. The sense of being out of it is so darn depleting. You feel like you are just whizzing through life without any direction whatsoever and for that alone, you feel like a stinking failure.
Because you know you actually have the goods to make it work, to make life work, to make things happen for yourself. You know you’re smart and charming and wildly ambitious, and when these three are combined, people are usually unstoppable. But not you. You don’t know why the hell you don’t have the energy to get up, get up, yeah, and do something, as Richie Kotzen says. No. There is no sense of control, only of being stuck. Fuck. The calendar points to the second day of August, and you promised yourself yesterday that this month will be different, that this will be the start of your era. Things have been so bad until this summer, and your college days turned the tables around by introducing you to the greatest souls you have ever met and will probably stay friends with until you’re old and gray and full of sleep, T.S. Eliot, yeah. The past two months have been great, in all departments. You somehow got a sense of what career path to pursue, your new friends are awesome, you dated someone who confirmed your standards are actually realistic after all and not all guys are shallow assholes (but that guy was an asshole, still, a cute, smart asshole you probably will never see again), you met
one two three four you lost track guys who are interested in you and who lets you know it so you’re not exactly forever alone even though you joke about it everyday, your life has meaning, purpose, whatever. What I lost my spiel now so I will start a new paragraph, because that’s what we have to do, right. Life is a recurring cycle of starting over. Hey that’s a great catchy into line.
Life is a recurring cycle of starting over
And now I am feeling better. I am supposing that’s a good thing, for now. (It is precisely that which kills me – the for now part.)
Don’t stress over things you cannot control. I said this a few days ago to my friends. I don’t know if anyone listened but what the hell, I guess the advice was aimed at myself, after all. One of the most important lessons I’ve learned earlier this year is that you have to let yourself go and take time out to feel things. Stored up emotions will haunt you and will burn down every bridge you’ve built once it gets the chance. Last year, I stopped for a semester because I’m such a procrastinating, aimless asshole myself and a few weeks later, my two-year relationship ended. Thankfully my highschool friends lived practically next door and there wasn’t much room to actually sort things out and deal with them. Being swept off my feet by a few people and finally ending up with someone new within two months after that distracted me from the negativity I should be learning to be controlling.
I like to point this reason out everytime I think back and realize the loss of that second one was the worst thing I ever had to go through. I never knew I could feel that much grief, or that much grief was actually even possible to exist. So there. I lost track of what I was saying again.
I turned eighteen last May and even if that’s a lousy excuse to declare that I should be learning the ropes of maturity by now, I am still using it. Because I don’t want to waste any more time. Because I don’t want to feel this low anymore, not ever again.
Every action leads to a good, and the ultimate good is happiness. — Aristotle
Lately I’ve been thinking about quitting smoking because I hate that it comes with a free pack of hopeless dependency. This afternoon, after I got tired of playing Radiohead’s Creep for the Nth time, I realized my depression fit was probably just a result of me being deprived of cigarettes the whole day.
And so I grabbed a jacket and went out to a store that sells Blacks cheap. I bought a bottle of Royal, since I was still under the spell of how amazing orange juice tastes with nicotine. Of course Royal is a carbonated softdrink but I figured it will be close. (I was wrong, by the way, the cigarette tasted like shit because of it, so don’t do that, girls and boys.) Ah, nothing like the rush of your first stick, still.
I figured I’d whip out this tab and conjure a short story about the experience – going out for a smoke, sky looking split between sunshine and storms, the nosy Globe agent offering the storekeeper internet services, the Maynilad men fixing up drainage systems giving me looks as I burned out my lungs even further, the absurdity of feeling alone despite having everything, as to conventional standards, as to my standards, at least. But obviously, this turned out to be a rant.
I’m realizing I don’t mind though, because writing is and probably will always be my sanctuary. If anyone’s taking the time to read this, then I congratulate you for making it this far.
I usually feel resolved after ranting, either through a blog, a conversation (drunk or not) or through hurriedly scrawling on any piece of paper I come into contact with. And now, I do. It’s absurd I know, all I did here was put down whatever happens to come up, phantasms translated into sentences by the beautiful act of me pounding on these keys. No resolutions were constructed. I still don’t know what my problem is, anyway.
This is a futile attempt in making sense of my insanity.
So where does this leave me? I am tired now and I want to go up to my room and continue cleaning, or sleep, or both. I feel like I have given all there is to give.
.. and yet, there is still more.
We could never really be certain, in the abstract sense. So how am I certain that we could never really be certain?
For when in doubt, one is certain that one is, indeed, in doubt. — Augustine
encircle the correct word:
I think (despite/after/perhaps, because of) all (this/these), I have a sense of what I want. That (may be/is) figuring out what is it that I want, in the first place. Like I said, I have what I need. Maybe some perspective is the key. Maybe, everything will instantly follow once I define what it is that I am looking for.
(could I/should I) limit possibilities by narrowing down the possibilities to a concept? No. I would not.
All I know is this, something’s missing here. And I am not the type to settle. A fated wanderer — Virgil
Poetry, Philosophy, Physics. I shall be a kick-ass professor someday. I will keep writing until my last, dying word. I will have an awesome wardrobe. I will have cats, dogs and a gold fish named Walt or Bruno or Ludwig. I will keep these great relationships with my friends and with my wonderful family. I will travel the world. I will inspire change. I will inspire people to blog like a crazy woman and this domain shall be a pedagogical device.
View this page as another user.
Because I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo, what the hell am I doing here…..