Blog blog blog, blog blog bloggog! (3x)

What to write, what to write, what to write, yeah.

Jesus Cheerist, i'm so darn bored. I want to get the hell out of this place I call my office and head out somewhere. I don't know, where, as long as it's out. My job is offering me nothing but monotony. I used to love being an English Editor, by the way, but things have suddenly taken a sharp turn. Perhaps it's my eternally schizophrenia-driven state of mind that makes me seek something different. I got this job in July 2002. Then, I was more than thankful to land a job that involved writing. But now, I realized, here I do writing for OTHER PEOPLE, not for myself. I hardly get to write anything anymore. The things I send to publications are those I've written years back, and have just fished out recently. I try to explain the reason for my idleness at present. And why I don't seem to have any interest in writing anymore. One is probably because I'm too freaking tired to do anything else. And also, I don't have PC at home and I'm too 'tamad' to write by hand. Not that I wasn't used to it before, but because my current job requires sitting in front of the computer for 8 hours, typing. I lost the ability to write.

To add to that, my hand cannot keep up with my mind. Whenever I hold an idea in my head, i try to write it down for fear of losing it. I pick up a piece of paper and write. But, hell, I lose it anyway. I really can't cope with the speed.

I don't even know why I'm talking about this. All I know is that, right now, I'm BORED, and a gallon of instant coffee cannot perk me up. By the way, our office has INSTANT coffee, which makes me want to gag. It has this really nasty aftertaste that makes me want to head to the restroom to brush my teeth. Icky. My saliva gets really sticky and I develop this sour taste in my mouth. I don't know if it's just me, or if it does happen to everybody else. Does it? Grrr.... Idea. idea. idea. I need ideas on how to write that article for indiefilipino. I can't come up with something to write about. I read up on stuff related to the copyrighting case I'm handling, but I can't read, either. Too bored. Too sleepy.

In the process of trying to find money to pay my bills, I lost my drive to write. My alter ego says it's sad.

And so I begin my blog with nothing on my mind. But I'm not supposed to stop writing till I reach three pages. Let's see what I can purge from myself today.



My boyfriend told me he used to have this impression that my hostility is a lifestyle for me. That, like a fad, it's something I live in order to sound cool. I wanted to smash the living daylights out of him that day. I do not appreciate having other people explain my behavior. I am not some culture on a petri dish one would observe over a period of time. I take offense when people tell me, 'Hey, you're nasty now, but I know that there's a really nice and sweet person deep inside'. My answer? No, there is none. This is who I am. And If that's a problem to you, then it's not my ball to throw. Fine, I'm sometimes too hostile and aloof. Aristotle's 'Man is a social animal', does not seem to hold much value anymore. I have grown to become self sufficient and responsible for myself.



I remember the time when I used to always point fingers at others for my blunders. I never really was the type who would admit failure. But the experiences I've had taught me to become more humble and discriminating. Right now, I still do not know what I want, and, maybe, who I am. I am in constant search of my light. Even I, scare myself sometimes.



But enough of that. I'm straying already. Let's go back to my topic.



So..... I'm bitchy because I perceive it a gauge of coolness.



A person's attitude is reflective of her goals. It with the degree of ruthlessness I plan to hold that I am the reputedly snooty person I am. Being nice to everyone is a tedious task. Though I'm civil, that doesn't mean that I would go out of my way to convince myself into believing every word you say. Sure I listen. But that doesn't mean I agree. And so my boyfriend thinks, I am who I am because I think it would make me look good. For all I know, I am being hated for the personality I carry. And I don't care, really. It doesn't matter what other people say. I only get defensive when my parents are involved, that is, when people start judging my parents and how they brought me up, because I'm liberal. That's the only thing that hurts me.



A lot of people do think I'm so cool, but that's their opinion. I did not become myself because I crave the idea of being worshipped or idolized. I chose to be the person I am because I feel that with this I am stronger, and I am able to face my life without flinching at the slightest hint of pain.



What is cool, anyway? How do you measure coolness?



Coolness does not define me. But if you think it does. Then I tell you : You don't find me 'happening'. You just envy me.




*I thank BFboy for that remark. Without it, I never would have thought of anything to write.