Monday, October 11, 2004
SOMETHING DIFFERENT
For the past few weeks my mind has been boggling around production requirements, rehearsals, office paperworks, dorm businesses, and of course what all those in the opposite sex would call a love life. So fine, the last one doesn't really exist. It pains me to mention it again and again in this congested blog of weekly write-ups.
I've decided to type this post to release that angry part of me.
Earlier this afternoon I felt like a director. I was pointing at details the construction workers need to put emphasis on as they finish our kitchen. My mom and I were fooled by the previous contractor and this time around I'm going to show them who is boss!
The guys who set up our security system (yes, we have one believe it or not) came by this afternoon to do finishing touches since all our doorways are complete. I had them do drills and I tested every zone. I felt good afterwards after helping my mom.
As I helped my mom, my mom decided to help our loyal driver and family helper Kuya Jong as well. She decided to give him our old bunk beds from Okinawa. I went around to the side of our house and inspected those as well and recalled that it was the first bed I masturbated on.
(So what?! I'm a liberal guy. Sue me.)
The alarm system works and I've been enjoying lunch and dinner at the breakfast table in the kitchen. After how many years of eating our delicious meals in our bedrooms (the kanya-kanya thing), I now feel good eating in the right place for once.
Internet in my room is banned. I'm on my brother's computer setting up an EVANGELION theme on this Windows XP. I'm also sorting out the files and preparing to make my USER fully customized towards my character. How Cancer of me.
I surfed around the web and it was the only time I figured I could get my mind off work and off the love thing. Regarding that, I don't think it's just infactuation. What really bites about it is when you get mixed signals. You think you're on the right track and then 'BAM!' it's really nothing.
Like how significant a smiley face is in a text message. To me, before, it was just a sign of friendship or a smile to cheer someone up. Then sometimes it meant "pa-cute" with its flirtacious appeal to it. Then, recently, it became serious.
I'm not declaring love based on a stupid smiley face or a bunch of stupid smiley faces, but it just feels good when you see one from this person's text. It makes me feel butterflies all over, not just in my stomach. It makes me float in the air and feel good. It's like all the deadlines at HF I've set could be delayed as far as 2010. All my grades could be 1.00 as long as I have...
Sigh. One thing though, I'm not really hiding anything. I love this person, so much. Beyond belief. Beyond the common lapses of haggard expression on my face. Behind that over-sized barong polo of my uniform. Inside the ink of the ballpen I use to edit materials with. In every step I take as I march down Lake Avenue. In every stroke of the comb to my Suave-conditioned hair in the morning. In every slam of the door as I leave my dorm. Morning. Afternoon. Evening.
Within every drop of energy I give towards all the things that I do. I cannot get this person out of my head. The name is everywhere. At Gate 1, at the mall, even on canned foods. The number 13, my favorite number, appears freakishly more often now than usual. The 11:11 thing appears just as much.
I make a wish everytime I see a "13" or an "11:11" that somehow God will send another Moses to form a path in the wide and terrifying sea. I will walk across that sea just to be with my iris.
For the past few weeks my mind has been boggling around production requirements, rehearsals, office paperworks, dorm businesses, and of course what all those in the opposite sex would call a love life. So fine, the last one doesn't really exist. It pains me to mention it again and again in this congested blog of weekly write-ups.
I've decided to type this post to release that angry part of me.
Earlier this afternoon I felt like a director. I was pointing at details the construction workers need to put emphasis on as they finish our kitchen. My mom and I were fooled by the previous contractor and this time around I'm going to show them who is boss!
The guys who set up our security system (yes, we have one believe it or not) came by this afternoon to do finishing touches since all our doorways are complete. I had them do drills and I tested every zone. I felt good afterwards after helping my mom.
As I helped my mom, my mom decided to help our loyal driver and family helper Kuya Jong as well. She decided to give him our old bunk beds from Okinawa. I went around to the side of our house and inspected those as well and recalled that it was the first bed I masturbated on.
(So what?! I'm a liberal guy. Sue me.)
The alarm system works and I've been enjoying lunch and dinner at the breakfast table in the kitchen. After how many years of eating our delicious meals in our bedrooms (the kanya-kanya thing), I now feel good eating in the right place for once.
Internet in my room is banned. I'm on my brother's computer setting up an EVANGELION theme on this Windows XP. I'm also sorting out the files and preparing to make my USER fully customized towards my character. How Cancer of me.
I surfed around the web and it was the only time I figured I could get my mind off work and off the love thing. Regarding that, I don't think it's just infactuation. What really bites about it is when you get mixed signals. You think you're on the right track and then 'BAM!' it's really nothing.
Like how significant a smiley face is in a text message. To me, before, it was just a sign of friendship or a smile to cheer someone up. Then sometimes it meant "pa-cute" with its flirtacious appeal to it. Then, recently, it became serious.
I'm not declaring love based on a stupid smiley face or a bunch of stupid smiley faces, but it just feels good when you see one from this person's text. It makes me feel butterflies all over, not just in my stomach. It makes me float in the air and feel good. It's like all the deadlines at HF I've set could be delayed as far as 2010. All my grades could be 1.00 as long as I have...
Sigh. One thing though, I'm not really hiding anything. I love this person, so much. Beyond belief. Beyond the common lapses of haggard expression on my face. Behind that over-sized barong polo of my uniform. Inside the ink of the ballpen I use to edit materials with. In every step I take as I march down Lake Avenue. In every stroke of the comb to my Suave-conditioned hair in the morning. In every slam of the door as I leave my dorm. Morning. Afternoon. Evening.
Within every drop of energy I give towards all the things that I do. I cannot get this person out of my head. The name is everywhere. At Gate 1, at the mall, even on canned foods. The number 13, my favorite number, appears freakishly more often now than usual. The 11:11 thing appears just as much.
I make a wish everytime I see a "13" or an "11:11" that somehow God will send another Moses to form a path in the wide and terrifying sea. I will walk across that sea just to be with my iris.
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