With a thud

On my FB wall: These past weeks have made me realize that not all minds are broad enough to house the lengths and widths and chasms and heights of the universe. As it is, I am thankful to have friends who I am able to see eye to eye with, given the free reign I allow my perspective, and the hatred I have for boxing things up.


There's a bit of frustration in those lines, to be truthful. Prior to the number of epiphanies that I had this past week, I'd carried on as if the rest of the world were in tune with my ways of thinking, were on the same wavelength I had placed (or found) myself. Which was, I realized, downright stupid of me to assume; just because we belonged to the same generation (more, or less) didn't mean our minds operated the same way. 


Again, Chanson: upbringing, environment, books read (or, lack of), music consumed, tears shed (or, absence of), cakes deprived of (or, grown fat from), battles fought (or, run away from) --so, stop dreaming that all the world will ever be in one platform. Sheesh. 

Here it comes again,

that blah feeling, that "BBB: Bored Beyond Belief" status on facebook, that perpetual stare at the ceiling, that urge to roll the eyes over most--no, over everything, that limpness, that utter lack of interest in anything except nothing, that vacuity, that pull to doldrums-land that even coffee can't pull back, that other BBB: Blankness, Barrenness, Bleakness rearing its ugly head.

Was it a gust of wind that brought it in? But, I suddenly miss Katipunan, that strip where the National Bookstore, Cravings, and Sweet I are, that strip in front of Ateneo where a fairly new Starbucks is nestled, where I know I could spend a whole evening, just watching the people walk in and out, or stay and laugh or space out, where I know I'm sure to grow nostalgic over remembering my student days in UP Diliman, because that strip was a constant piece of concrete, a favorite tambayan of those days, along which I would saunter --at times, aimlessly, at times, with a purpose , like, to buy a book at National, or, to give in to a Sweet I cake craving--wait, may Tita Amys' pa ba dun?

Hayyyy.

Is it summer already?
Hmp. Thought so. Time to switch to iced coffee.
Hate it.

Thoughts on listening to your little tirade on how perfect your little life is

For what life, after all, is not complicated?

What set of sensibilities is not without peculiarity, what mentality without absurdity? What environment is so ideal as to be almost what it seems to be, when the dysfunctions distributed among countless generations of lives lie within each childhood, manifesting themselves in each day-to-day?

There are as many gradations of complexity as there are shades and hues, if not more. The way I look at that piece of news on TV could be 180 degrees apart in judgement, or lack thereof, from yours. My perception of your present dilemma could be the 703rd in the 1,534 assessments diffused out there. Psychology could very well be in its incipient stage when it comes to understanding the way with which people look at, and/or experience, an emotion, an epiphany, an event, an ordeal. Instinct could just be as unpredictable as chance, if one looked closer.

So-called charmed lives could not be as charmed as they appear to be. It just isn't possible, not with how differently each mind is programmed by context and circumstance, not with the inexhaustible contingencies brought about by each ticking of the clock's hands, the clock itself a symbol of man's never-ending battle with the exactness of the space between each second, the spaces themselves containing an infinitude of aberrations.

If I hadn't been brought up the way I was, I would already have rolled my eyes at your rattle on how so-and-so should have lived her life more "morally" than how she's living it, at how so-and-so should not have done what he had done because it was just,well, "wrong". Though oftentimes I fail, I try my hardest not to pass judgement on the weakness of others, knowing fully well that I am just as human as everyone else.

As it is, I continue to listen and endure. I cross my arms over my chest and tap a finger on my elbow. My years have taught me that there are simply some things one should not waste energy on.

Chow King Halo-halo + Fruits in Ice Cream + Yellow Cab NY Classic + Icebergs Halo-halo + Starbucks Iced Grande Mocha + Tater's white cheddar-coated potato chips + Razon's Halo-halo + etc. + etc. + etc.

This insufferable heat is making me fat.

Teach

the feet to arch, nonchalant, on heels. Each conversation is a potential fight to be won. Paint the eyebrows just so--even a frown should spell not doubt but mere deep thought. Stare when stared at. Don't storm off, just walk away.

Women on glossies and other surfaces: stop looking.

Seasonal whining

Every summer season seems hotter than the last one.

One feels almost ungrateful for the breeze because the heat it brings along stings the skin like so, just so, so that the mind feels the pinpricks of a dizzying soreness that will not succumb to the numbness that is usually easy enough to assume.

No, not when it's this hot, this dry, so that we are almost prompted to ask why ever did we wish for sun, now that so much sun is here.

Tsk. The heat indeed does things to the mind.

Under the Blanket

I'm down with a cold. Again. I only get sick once a year, so coming down with this very bad cold barely a month after I recovered from the previous one--which was worse, I must say--is a little disconcerting. Or, baffling, at the most.

I think I'd be able to come up with a host of possible reasons, though, namely, that:

a) the past week's flurry of activities finally got to my immune system;
b) I am vitamin C-deficient;
c) I'm sleep-deprived;
d) it's my body telling me to take more rest;
e) the December breeze--aka "the herald of depression and all things numbing"--is whipping us, folks of the warm land; or
e) I'm simply getting old.

The last one makes the most sense. LOL.

Or not.

???

Maybe it's all of the above.

Bottom line: being sick sucks big-time!
Ugh.

My Sh_tty Week, In Review

I'm done reading The Manikin and will be moving on to Ann Patchett's Bel Canto next. I was trying to decide between that and Irene Nemirovsky's Suite Francaise but Bel's synopsis mentioned a soprano, which clinched the deal. The soprano will always come first.

Blah.

I had meant to enumerate the week's events. I just realized virtually none of them (except the book I finished) are worth enumerating, at all.

Because for some people, it would take only one dark event to cast a pall over everything else, to lend shadow to what began as a sunny morning, to cause a domino effect over the hours of a day, a week, a month. And yes, it could go on longer than that.

I will call this post "My Sh_tty Week, In Review" even if it would hardly pass for a review.

My Facebook is teeming with negative status updates. Am thankful to the friends who took notice and took time to offer consoling/sympathetic comments. I'm hoping to shake off from this rut soon.

How was your week?

I'm just saying.

If you don't know much about something, I say step down and stop pretending that you're an expert on that particular topic. You'll come out looking like a fool, honey, so just quit it. If you're gonna compare the Harry Potter series to "The Da Vinci Code" movie, I say, stop. It'd be like, well, putting a smocked bed spread beside a smocked pillow case and trying to decide which one is prettier. Saying that "The Da Vinci Code" is way better because it "tackles real life" (eww) and that the Harry Potter movies are corny because they are "unrealistic" is, like, duh, lady. Where've you been?

And to tell me that you have every right to give your opinion on the matter because you "studied literature for two years"? Come on. I'd bet my next pay check you didn't even pay attention to your English 1 class.

Pffftt.

Summer Whining From the Sun-Hater

Hah!

Oh, yes, folks, time to welcome the sweltering heat again.

It's that time of the year when electric bills skyrocket to alarming heights because of A/C and electric fan abuse (Christmas is another thing, what with the lights and all, but I think most of us have come to our senses and realized that decking our homes in ridiculously numerous colored lights is just not worth it); when the A/Cs and fans themselves conk out from over-use; when wet bodies frolic in the beach and under the sun, tanning and burning in reckless abandon, mindless of the premature aging the precious skin is put under; when tempers flare with the hot, dry winds (are there any winds, by the way?).

Poof, I was never really a summer person, never one to get all giddy to go to the beach and laugh and grin and toast like there's no tomorrow. The most I'd do there--if some really persistent friend would ever succeed in convincing me to go, in the first place--is to lather up on tons and tons of sunscreen, put on a nice pair of shades, find a really shady corner under some really leafy coconut tree (a bunch of coconut trees would be best--the more shade there is, the better), stack up on two good books, or three, sit on a thick, dark blue towel and curl my toes in the sand. Worse, I'd probably fall asleep, willing myself to wake up only when it's 6 pm, when the scorching heat would already have simmered a bit.

For all that I am a Pisces, I'm really a goldfish in a fishbowl, happy to swim in my own little space, where the waters are tranquil, and where I am safe.

And where there's no premature skin aging happening.

Party-pooper, you might say. And missing a lot, or something to that effect.

Whatever.

Yes, I'm a Snob (and aren't we all, to a certain extent?)

1. I only watched "Friends" after it finished airing on TV.
2. I took no interest in The Da Vinci Code--except, perhaps, at scorning it--and I have no plans of reading it. Same goes for Paulo Coelho, et al. And no thanks, Sophie Kinsella. There are a million other far, far better books waiting to be read.
3. Seems like every other girl's into gladiator sandals these days. Ergo, I will not buy nor wear gladiator sandals.
4. Au revoir for life, Friendster!
5. Haven't watched a single episode of "Sex and the City."
6. What's the fuss over this Twilight thing? So far, most of the reviews I've read (Rotten Tomatoes, anyone?) point to one thing: that it sucks, big time!

I did watch (and loved) The Lord of the Rings trilogy, though,and read the entire set (including The Hobbit), to boot!

I find Harry Potter some notches above "moderately interesting" (am waiting for the next one!) but I'm a sucker for Spiderman.

I don't care one bit for Six Cycle blah and I absolutely abhor MYMP and the fact that they refuse to write songs of their own and instead insist on re-hashing those of other artists. Wait, the last line doesn't sound right. It's like saying they themselves are artists. Let me rephrase: they resort to singing, recording and making money out of other people's songs. There. Better.

I hate it when I'm grouchy. I become too honest. lol

No offense meant, folks. This is just me. I believe in democracy, freedom of speech and the freedom to choose.

Peace, y'all!

cartoon from this site.