I feel oh-so-extra-sociable today. Take note, I actually felt bad for a while today - a second day in a row - but tonight I found myself linking to four more blogs and adding a lot more people in Multiply
. And this has been happening for quite a while now - just yesterday Fermin added me up on YM
after I added Chrystel up. A few days before I was digging through contact pages and added Reena up
. And right now I just clicked on the link that would enable me to invite Danggay
Back in high school there was a time when the number of friends on Friendster
mattered. It was a fairly new thing, and Elaine and Chrystel were both trying to convince me to join. During that summer, wen both girls transferred schools (and the story, well, began), I eventually signed up
and had the latter as, apparently, my first friend. There was a comparison with shampoo by then, for some particular reason. Now I can't understand why I was so attracted.
Back then, I was a fairly fumbly person when it comes to initiating things. Typing in Chrystel's email address in the user search field - I got that by texting her - meant the already-usual increased heart rate was in place before I could even in the fifth letter. I still get the jitters now - how I got people's email addresses becomes much more questionable - but nevertheless my Friendster page already has almost two hundred of them, some in two identities, some in groups, but nevertheless, they're collective nouns for nothing.
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For a moment, Kim
was right when she pointed out that I treat my crushes as if it was the biggest thing on earth. It's as if there was a past, as if there was a hurtful break-up, and as if there is a terrible need for moving on, with counseling involved, even.
I think that's the closest I have to adventure. Honestly, though. I've had quite a lot in my eighteen years and there are only a few instances when those names just seem to pass me by. If you know where to look (and if you're lucky enough) you'll realize there's been quite a lot more. And maybe I'm just too hyperactive to prevent myself from doing a song, a dance and
a poem about whoever it is that caught my eye. Nevertheless I can't help but live off inspiration; the only thing is, people do get annoyed.
It's quite legendary that there are some of us who apparently have a crush on every girl they see. At least that's how they say it - I could be reserved and think of the people that don't exactly pass qualifications, if you know what I mean - but nevertheless it sort of amazes when you see that, somehow, they're succeeding. This could be another effort to drag me down, but fact number one is, I'm not exactly assertive - I could be effeminate even, and say that intimacy is a little oft-unexploited expertise of mine. Or maybe oft-abused. But, you know, images of what should be done and all - that particularly sucks, really. Seeing that it all flies away makes you realize that you're not really cut for it.
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Before my third class I felt like undergoing an absolutely fragmented sense of nostalgia. The question is, are you afraid to step forward?
Defeat is not the end of it
. That line made the rounds of my head throughout the entire day - from the moment Nadia (surprisingly) gave me a hug, to the moment I ruined my enlargements, to the moment I found myself talking to Meg
out of the blue, to the moment I playfully grabbed Osang's hand when we passed by each other, to the moment our talk recording almost got ruined. I don't know, but I'm certainly not calling it motivation, or at least not entirely. You know, it's as if all the things you've seen today didn't make any cohesive sense.
Then again, it's as if things have suddenly surfaced for one more time. It's when you realize that you have to look at things in a different way as opposed to the last time you changed viewpoints, and quickly make sure that you've equipped yourself. True, suddenly-already-taken Karla
is getting me to play a homosexual in her PSA because I made quite an impression, or I've been receiving (automatically dismissed) death threats again, but beneath the labels are subtle reminders that I haven't been moving on as quickly as I supposed I should have been, at least for myself. But come to think of it, really...
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and I suddenly have a brother-sister conversation-based friendship. For some reason, since she's turning twenty and I'm just fresh off turning eighteen, I suddenly was her younger brother, and she was my older sister - a position I've never found myself in, nor an older brother. And every time we text each other it starts with the initially awkward "bunso!
Keeping up appearances is quite a hard thing to do, to be honest. Sometimes I feel that I've actually started maintaining two personalities, out of a necessity. I still insist on thinking that I actually seem different when I'm seen personally - of course, letters do not mean anything except when you're trying to persuade someone while hiding everything else in the process. Sometimes, though, the things that I wanted to come out when I'm with the people that supposedly matter just come out when they're not there. I thought it'd boost my chances - nothing's happening, though.
Surprises have taken me aback recently. It's amazing enough that I've had the time - or I managed to shuffle around what's unnecessary - but it's been more amazing that all of these surprises have hit a chord. It's as if I was meant to discover that things aren't going the way they all used to. I'm not worrying, true, but when those appearances make a mark they're just going haywire. Obviously I've sensed it previously.
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I was in a bad mood earlier, triggered by talk of friendships that actually make you grow. Or maybe it came in at a fairly terrible time, when I was thinking of another shortage of photo paper, or how we'd manage to work around a needlessly complicated talk show. To be fair, it was classes that led me to think about why I've been left out alone for so long, but eventually stories of "exciting" times got me back to speed. Nothing is suddenly left to chance.
I actually was surprised at what I decided to do. Rather than troop to the Internet café to download stuff, I ended up talking to the people I've been talking to for quite a while. After Reena, Osang and Carmel
, there was Les
and (to a smaller extent) Sarah, and then Derek, Danica and Bea. So, maybe, why would I practically whine about not having good friendships? I did have a point, though. It's all part of mutual advantages. For an hour I felt used, and I don't think anybody gave a damn, except probably when I half-joked about being on the verge of crying.
I was surprised that Les knew about my secret. I'll admit it - I tried particularly hard to keep it from her. I thought it wouldn't help, with proximity matters and all. I guess she'd understand if she had the chance. But I guess I was prepared for such a moment, and it passed as if I knew I really told her. I guess it's normal. I guess it's also been forgotten - Sarah was there, tending to her surprisingly loose (borrowed) shirt, and she didn't seem to react even if she also knew about my secret. I guess it's campaigning fatigue. I'll leave it at that.
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And since Issa
reminded me again not to look for inspiration again, I decided not to.
And it's been quite a while, honestly. It's been a while since I decided to tackle this thing fairly differently than the rest. Sure, it's been a little bit over a year since it all started, and in between there's been a hell lot of things that can be dumped into a time capsule for safekeeping. And sure, even if I eventually resigned to the thought that it would end up wrecking me to bits, it never went to that scale. And, you could predict I'm going to play the maturity card, but no.
If I only knew it earlier, I would've realized that what I was trying to do is basically throwing fists at the sky. Anyway it felt as if I was as flimsy as a dork, with no extraordinary physical capabilities to speak of. But maybe, if I did know about it that early I wouldn't have gone to this point; I wouldn't have known all of this, and all of that. I'd be cheesy if I say it's been a learning experience. There's no denying it. I am cheesy.
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The family's still breathing down my neck, but then again, I haven't got anything to do tonight. I can't chat with (the other) Ella
because she isn't here; probably she's on the way to work. I can't start thinking about our talk radio script because I can't remember the music Jason
suggested last Monday. Even worse I can't help but think I'm not supposed to come home early, for some particular reason - if photography has already got me confused, what more when you throw in statistics and community service?
We're situated on the ninth week of the term. By now it's supposedly crunch time - you throw in projects from election reports to camera handling, and add in online enrollment which starts next week, and for some, throw in a little bit of extra-curricular, err, curry. Yet, even if I'm not finding it a breeze, it seems like I'm still going home early, finding myself without anything to do in nights like this - it's basically surprising, considering how busy I expected myself to be by this time. True enough, my friends who are taking up video production
aren't any happier; not only are they getting failing marks on basic exercises with the final theme, apparently, being about last chances, but they're also losing sleep looking for actors and making sure the camera doesn't get shaken the way James Bond likes it.
And I think my parents are becoming happy, simply because I'm getting sleep. But I'm getting itchy feet, continuously wondering why I'm not yet worrying about my photo essay, or our still life shots for that matter. Sure, my weekends are being busted by five-page requirements that actually require a lot of thinking, but there are still times when I become so lazy I decide to sleep it all off while leaving the radio on. Like, who else can spend three hours doing nothing but chat about fictitious radio stations and draw up programming clocks on Doodle? I actually start to feel bad for my classmates, who are basically sick yet decide to work on stuff in the dark room.
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I'm entering three years since I started searching for clues regarding my mere existence. But no, I haven't done it in a way Lizette
probably would - I know I couldn't possibly think of it that way. People have always lived with different perspectives to the point of selling it to another.
And look at how my perspectives have changed. On the way home I slept through how I'll write this anniversary entry without sounding like a salesman. It's like my surprise realizing that school requirements have led me to think that things have faded away, but not really. No, they haven't.
At this point in my life, I'm slowly getting used to losing sleep over the most important matters - publications
, photographs, concepts, sympathy - and the most mundane ones, which is everything else you can think of. I don't know if I can already synthesize all of these things into one efficient flow that takes note of everything that's been said, from lost motivations to prized reputations, but nevertheless it's as if one year made so much of a difference. Much more, two.
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