25 minutes

A friend asked me once why I really liked that song. After some thought, I answered that somehow I had a feeling(of the nagging kind), that somehow, I knew that I would one day just be a man of regret. Somehow, I knew I would be the type to look back and hope that there was more that I could have said or done. Somehow, despite my bitterness and reasons, I always knew that I could have been better. I knew that when I'd come to my senses, I'd be too late.

Sometimes I wonder if there really is such a thing as freedom. Can people really be anything other than themselves? The battered wife. The tolerant father. The class slut. The loud obnoxious friend. The passive observer. The crazy guy next door. The lonely lover. If people play a role for too long, they become that role and in some odd way they define themselves by it, like it's the only reality that they could understand no matter how inane or difficult it is. As much as I hate it, we can actually fit into those small little boxes of judgement, those little cages that limit character. We are who we are.

I don't know. To a certain degree, it's one of the reasons why I used to be a perfectionist. I guess, I knew I would not be good at dealing with mistakes, with failure, with apologies. So I decided I wouldn't make any. Mistakes that is. I had a good run, but not good (or long) enough.

I really don't know. I wish I could be anything more than this. Whatever this is. I am the same. Always have been. Always will be. I cannot be anything more.

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"Consciously or unconsciously we all strive to make the kind of a world we like."
-Oliver Wendell Holmes

Random thinking

For the past few months, people have been coming to me about their problems. Love, life, friends, family, religion...etc. It freaks me out sometimes that I get to see people in a state most people don't see em in. I dunno why, but then again it beats talking myself to sleep. And hey, it might come in handy to have some leverage in the future to blackmail somebody.

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I cannot type anything coherent over a span of ten minutes. bummer. And I hate hate hate my penmanship these days. And my drawing strokes change from day to day. What the heck is wrong with me? What am I to do? Could it be a battle of my personalities? Well they better get it over with soon coz I ain't gonna get any work done at this rate. sigh.

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I remember as a kid, I'd write songs and sing 'em to my family...but it's weird coz they don't remember that I did that. I remember they laughed coz I liked to use the word baby (as in sweet sexy baby kinda context:P) I also used to mix up different "chemicals" in my house to create some secret superhero serum. I'd put it in the ref or under the sun for a few hours then drink a sip of it or something...well...that would explain a lot of why I am the way I am today.

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It was weird, but once my mom gave me a copy of an article before that told the difference between bad girls and good girls(I was about 11 then). It was a loooong list, but all I remember now was, "Good girls take something off when things get hot, bad girls take something off to get things hot." Bad girls! Bad girls! ;p haha

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I remember the orange street lamp, the dampness of the the air and my hands in my jacket... though it wasn't really that cold. Not the weather anyway. And the only sound on the way home were my footsteps. It was that night i told her goodbye.

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If there was any real freedom in the world...
I would be riding a monster motorcycle (a Harley or Ducati) across freeways and open roads. Actually, I'd take that baby everywhere:) I'd have an earring(or is it called an ear piercing?) . Doesn't matter which side. You can go anywhere, eat anywhere, be anywhere without people bothering you with the question "ba't mag-isa ka lang?" I'd dance, dance, dance. I'd sing in the shower. Oh wait...I already do that. Hmmm...then maybe I'd just sing louder in the shower, haha. I'd tell her she was beautiful straight to her face (or maybe it's not an issue of freedom but guts). Life would have a "mute" button.

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I'm happy that the "lovers" are together again. The "lovers" being the 2 white trees in front of the FC. In the last super typhoon that came along, it brought down one of 'em, but in spite of that, the tree did not die, like it refused to leave behind it's partner. Finally, I think a few people saw the plight of the "lovers" and they propped the fallen one back with some wooden supports to keep it standing till it was strong enough. And it did grow strong again, and they are together again...and will seemingly always be so.

I am happy too that I have found friends that do not laugh or say I'm weird (although I don't take it against the people who do) when I talk about some weird perception of the things around me like that. It's a nice thing when there are things that you can share, even if it is just weirdness.

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"None are so hopelessly enslaved as those who falsely believe they are free."-Goethe

Last Night

I want to say this for the last time.
I want tonight to be the last time.
When everything inside just feels so heavy.
When there is nothing in here but waiting.
There is nothing in here.

I'm just tired of you my dear Hope.
It's been so long. This pain is starting to feel beautiful.
Oh hope, why do you keep hurting me so?
Please. Set me free.

Ive always thought that someday things will change.
That somehow things will change for those who wait.
But I know...
Someday no longer waits.

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"In one more night, the princess would have been his. But she also could possibly not have kept her promise. And it would have been terrible. He would have died. This way, however, at least for 99 days, he was living under the illusion that she was there, waiting for him."
-Salvatore from Cinema Paradiso