I'm going to say it now and laugh at myself later.
I never believed it was possible to cry over a book that you haven't read yet, or even seen. Nor do i think it is possible to cry over acknowledgements. I knew it, i should have not read what JK wrote in her website.
I think it's kleenex I'll be needing a lot of tomorrow.
Must be hormones
It's been a while.
So much for being sorry that my blog has been neglected.
Anyway, being the Potterphile that I am,I read this article from time mag about the "magical moment" and how Scholastic is trying to preserve the moment. I must say I agree, the magical moment is a myth. Of course, there is nothing better than opening a book for the first time without knowing how the story goes or if you'll forget all about it once the book is closed. The big difference with movies and books is that watching a movie for the nth time leads to a memorized movie. Hence, people finishing the characters' lines. I've seen the first two Harry Potter movies no less than 50 times. (yes i know it's pretty depressing I have no social life...) I think I've memorized the lines already, but the magic hasn't worn out yet. I've seen the rest of the Potter films no less than 10 times (and yes it's depressing again, but i intend to watch them some more), magic is still alive.
I've read all the Potter books no less than 3 times, and trying very hard to read them atleast a week for each book. You'd have thought, I've probably memorized the book, known every detail. Surprisingly I don't. Maybe it's my bad memory, or maybe it's because books are meant to be read and enjoyed over and over or until you find your next favorite. I am saddened by the thought that that will probably never happen to me (emo moment, everyone clap for me) I am writing this to remind myself that when I find the next big thing for me, I could laugh at myself.
I am really starting to sound like a heartbroken puppy.
But seriously, if you can't stand Harry Potter (which i don't understand... but that's just me). Pick something up, a book, a magazine, a brochure... Read. It doesn't have to be my blog, seriously.
I. must. stop. Despite of all the nonsense I have yet to dispense. The length of this blog entry is indicative of my current busyness. and since I claim to be drowning with work... I'd hate to contradict myself...Why i totally love of course...I really should st--
There is something about that dark that makes it appealing. I guess it's the fact that it makes the coming of the light more beautiful. But i still can not figure out, why i always preferred the dark.
Pictures were strewn on the floor, colored and alive. We were in black and white so alike the way we really are, they way we see you and I. There were people all around us, they way they always are. They were asleep, as asleep as they are all the time.
The room was gray with four walls, a door and a missing ceiling. In place of it was the starry sky, just enough illumination for your face, our faces.
I am lost as I always am whenever I talk to you, whenever I talk to anyone. You were trying to tell me something and as usual I do not understand. You took one of the pictures on the floor and showed them to me. I figured you were trying to prove a point. I wasn’t really paying attention until I noticed the pictures you were laying out in front of me. Pictures I have never seen before. But they were of you and me. Something was strange about those photos… they seemed to be moving in slow motion. Oh, laughter, I can hear laughter.
The pictures were in full color, moving and laughing. I know, though I don’t know how, that that was us laughing. I sense happiness in those pictures. Who took them? Why wasn’t I aware?
I really don’t understand what you were trying to tell me. I guess you sensed it as furrows deepened in my forehead. You made them disappear with the gentle touch of your air. And I felt I somehow understood. For the first time, I understood.
I stood up and reached for the door. I was overwhelmed with what dawned on me as I stared at those pictures on the floor. I opened the door and found another gray room. Your alter ego was there. I asked what the bother is since it’s too late to be turning on the stove. Milk. Again, I was lost and did not understand.
Dreams are usually on a grayscale. Blurry and foggy. Indistinct voices and ungraspable messages. Seldom to dreams come in full color, alive and surprisingly happy.
Dreams, they only amuse you for a few moments. The smiles last for a few moments upon waking. But the realization gets stuck all your waking hours.
Great! Just when you thought your waking self will be able to live the better life your treacherous dreams creeps up on you and tells you,
“Darling, do not fool yourself. We both know the surreal untruth would be better than your reality.”
I have a penchant for wanting the things I can never have or wanting the things I don’t necessarily need. I live for the challenge of the things that constantly elude me. I sound ungrateful sometimes, appearing to not pay attention to the things I have.
I am grateful and I am aware of the things I have. But I fear that when the challenge of the chasing leaves me I will cease to be. I will be the rational being the world wants me to be, the one who thinks before taking action or in my case, rather, to think less.
My current inability to organize my thoughts, to come up with logically sequenced paragraphs, an outline of the things I should be talking about, to be parallel, is something I have to endure, for now. I. hope.
My smiles are, more often than not, indicators not of my happiness but of an impending blow. A blow that can be shallow or deep that renders me useless once more. A blow that leaves me once again, the feeling, the romantic (lazy lunatic). And for the nth I’m gonna claim that this time I will not fall victim of that morphine drip, that this time I’m gonna face the facts, the truth. I appear as though I live my life in pain, constantly. I don’t.
I like to isolate the pain, to barricade it and place it in a bubble. Impenetrable, but to me. And around my bubble, I blow the little bubbles of my lies, fantasies, dreams of how things should have been.
So I guess, this smile I’m sporting for now is a welcome to my sadness.
I hope life proves me wrong.
I woke up with a smile. One that lasted the whole day. Like a bubble that forgot how to burst. Or a slow moving picture, one of the best you have.
It's far fetched but nevertheless a happy dream.
It took me a good half hour to get off bed simply because the i don't want to erase the images. it was one of those dreams where you know you're dreaming.
It was a nice kiss on the forehead of my dream.
Replays, reruns.
seldom do dreams come out so well that you'd want to leave the lovely world of lalaland hoping to come by a sweet reality. Me in the real world, that is saying something.
Of course, dreams are also as delicate as bubbles, ready to burst anytime. And it did.
Darling, that image once again. Let it go.
You're fighting a losing battle.
______
Methinks:
I must be sick. I'm strangely happy that I'm almost sad about it.
Need to talk or sleep or breathe.
Summertime: I’ve lost track of what summer vacation is. This time next year, hopefully, fortunately and unfortunately, summertime would only mean the best time to make use of accumulated leaves (or is that even a correct term). Force leave, sick leave… haha
Sometimes, when the sun feels arrogant and starts to fry your brain, you get thoughts that you can’t quite define. They are thoughts that wreck havoc inside your hydration-challenged brain. They range from real to surreal, shallow and indepth. Thus, the birth of the Brainfried Thoughts. (a close relative of the Old Ideas Series and practically as useless).
Thought 1: I hope that this generation’s voters are intelligent enough to see those politicians’ dirty, insulting, desperate tactics.
Thought 2: I love my privacy. I do. I seriously dislike it, when people make the extra effort to get behind you and ogle your daily dose of internet nonsense. When you’re phone gets used without your permission, I probably would have said yes if you asked but I’d prefer that you bother with the asking. It’s a bad attitude of mine I recognize that but but but.
Thought 3:
Dear Day,
The night is the best time to relish the silence and your solitude, in front of your laptop, away from people’s stares. The best ideas come to life at night when the world is presumably asleep and only a handful share the silence with you. The best strategies to ‘outshine the moon’ (Bloc Party- The Prayer) come to life when everyone else is too busy snoring. Nighttime is the best time to come up with stupid ideas because once you succumb to sleep Mr. Sandman can clean all your toxic ideas. The darkness of the night is the best time to miss the people you never will miss you, because they are too preoccupied missing someone else. Nighttime is the best time to reread Harry Potter because no one bothers you. Of course, the hype of the night is dulled by daytime coz when the morning breaks everyone assumes that it’s time to be awake to tread the murky waters that is the world. They are not aware of the wonders of the night, they will never know for I will never tell.
Love, Night
Thought 4: I have an incredible amount of patience. Haha, not really I don’t. I just know how to let my boiling hot temper (mind you, it’s always that way) simmer away inside of me until all that’s left is uhmm well, nothing.
Thought 5: I love my silence. Silence
Thought 6: I get stressed out with company.
Thought 7: I am dying.
I have decided to end this series here apparently, because of the lack of eloquence in my thoughts due to the fact that my brain is coming out of my ears.
Bye, world. I strived to come up with crispy thoughts, crunchy enough for your brain to bite. Alas, I came up with some soggy and some burnt thoughts for desperate brain. Oops
P.S
World, I'll be back with more soggy and burnt thoughts haha
i've been stupid...
ok, i got stupid again...
stupid is now my middle name...
bear with my stupidity, world
for one day it might progress to indifference...
I think I loved
Too much
Too fast
Too long
I wonder
Sometimes
If it’s possible
To love
Too much
Too fast
Too long
I said before
A dozen times
I’m over it
I know of course
All of it
Was wishful thinking
I’m afraid
Apathy has found
Me
It’s hard to use
The word ‘feel’
It does not sound right
When I look at you
There’s a dull
Ache
Where my beating
Should have been
I wait for the
Inevitable
Painful
Neverending
Aching
The waiting
Makes it worse
Because the inevitable
Pain
Won’t come
I want my pain
I refuse the morphine drip
I need the coffee
In my veins
To keep me awake
While waiting for my pain
It’s like being loaded
With work
For too long
And abruptly
Being free
You wander around
Wondering
Where
Work has gone
I wander around
Wondering
Where
Pain has gone
Where my beating
And air
Has gone
And this
Is how I drown
dapat rma ang hinaharap ko
naiiyak ako
di dahil sa rma
may automatic with perpetually inconvenient timer
ang mata ko
this place has been awfully quiet for a while
and i'm still hurting
my innate ability to stitch myself back together
has gone totally haywire
i'm surprised
i'm still alive
yes, i still think you're lucky
mazel tov? no.
tomorrow is today,
i take it back.
it's not over
