i have been asked lately by people why i cancelled my account in friendster. and for each of them i have different answers: a)gisamukan ko b)boring, gusto ko bag-o na account para mag-invite2x ko c) nareport abuse ko d)di ko ganahan mag view2x ang mga dili nako friends d) wala lang, kapoy maintain e)dili ko gusto mu apil sa friendster generation
some of which are not true at all. some are partly true. but which is which, i can’t tell you. i tend to confuse them.
in my effort to find out what was i thinking that day, i looked into my files. i stumbled upon my last blog entry (from multiply, which i also cancelled two days after that) i wrote the same day i cancelled my friendster account.
this was my mood that day:
random thoughts: tardy blame-game
april 05, 2008; 11:14 pm
i wouldn’t have entitled my blog “wounding the narcissistic scar” for no reason. if you happen to read me, it’s your fault. or maybe there is no one to blame. but truly, it’s your fault. we all need someone to blame. of course we do. don’t be a hypocrite. since i do not keep i diary anymore since november of last year, i’m gonna sound like i’m writing on my diary. i miss the feeling. i never thought of why i stopped keeping one. and now i’m having thoughts about it. why, maybe i got tired of writing down what i truly felt. admit it, we do get tired even from listening to our own thoughts. and i blame it on the mechanics of keeping a diary. screw diaries!
i drank four mugs of coffee today. one, i had to sneak out. my mom sort of warned me to stop drinking coffee. i’m celebrating the power of the time off, you know. today is the first day for the longest time that i do not have to think of fiction and poetry, living a psycho-disturbed character and ending up messing with everyone in the house, pages and pages to read, and all of that sort. although, i did a lot today. it’s hard to change the system overnight. first thing when i woke up, i fed the fishes, and the chicken kae gave me (who was supposed to be a bantam hen, but what can i say, it turned out not-bantam, and it crows. but okay, i still love her, in a chicken way).i grabbed a book, finished a chapter. then i watched a documentary on nostradamus. then i watched juno again, for like eternity. then i went on to my movie marathon (juno, not considered). three movies that i already watched before(not less than three times, though. but who cares? it still makes me laugh and cry): knocked up, when a man loves a woman, and a knight’s tale (but i’m not gonna talk about heath ledger here. it’s a different issue..and one thing, i’m not ready to talk about him-dead yet.)
i wanted to talk about each of the three movies, but i bet i would sound like i’m making a paper for a theory class. it kind of got into my system. but, no. i won’t do that. so i’m gonna leave it as that–that i watched them.
if you happen to read up to here. then stop it. i’m so conscious of you reading this. so please just stop. for that, i’ll weigh on you all the blame here. i’m gonna stop carrying mine now. so stop, this is just me.
i won’t really care if anyone reads this.
i already marked my calendar, for seminars to attend to, for trainings, for books to read and movies to watch, for doing my laundry and for cleaning my room beyond my creativity (oh please). i did it so things won’t overlap behind my consciousness plus, i forget things. it’s good to have my phone remind me of things. i won’t go to summer classes. hell. no school. i’ll stay here. hibernate. meditate. mutate. because hey, just thinking of thesis. like i’m gonna do my thesis next sem, gives me the “shudder in the loins”. what am i gonna write? good hell, that’s why i’m gonna do the yoga on that. and thinking of that too, i want to graduate. but i do not want to work. i feel like i’m too young for that. i’m always, always gonna be too young for everything (grow up for heaven’s sake!). yeah, thanks for reminding me. well, eat that. i feel i’m too young to work. okay? no one can do anything about it.
i hate me when i sound so sure. because i know i’m not and i won’t let anybody know i am not. i just need more convincing. don’t give up on me. in the end, we all just have to point at who’s to blame. and who cares? it’s already a sealed said-and-done.
blame me. i’ll take that. let me believe it was my fault because it’s harder to accept that it was actually yours.
* comment: hmf. harsh!
