Sunday, January 30, 2005

Alas, I be reduced once more to a giggling schoolgirl.

My seat is vibrating because I can't stop shaking. It's as though my muscles decided to twitch for no apparent reason everytime I think of a certain someone.

I must admit, it is still not much more than physical attraction. This person is one who has a mesmerizing smile. I notice when someone cracks a joke, this person looks at me as though to see whether I am laughing, offended or clueless. However, I also acknowledge the fact that I might be just getting my hopes up.

After all, this person might not be interested in a relationship with me. Besides, I still have the artifacts of a previous relationship in my system. I'd have to get closure before I venture out into the world of things as superficial as attraction or as deep as love and friendship.

I wanted to learn how to wink
seductively but I can't, I think.
Will I fail like I did once before,
Or will this bloom to something more?

Monday, January 24, 2005

Were there an open door, I'd have this world no more.

Once there was a blue
whom people barely knew
and they couldn't get the clue
that his socks are new.

There are times when people want to escape reality.

Some kill themselves, others just snap.
Some use needles, other just sniff.

Some dream on, creating their own private world while living the hell called life. This is what I did.

When Digimon: Digital Adventures was first aired here, I was immediately mesmerized by the idea that there might exist another world other than this one. Of course, there was Mars but it had too much carbon dioxide and it was uninhabitable anyway. Nonetheless, you know what I mean when I say "worlds".

If only there was another world, life would be pleasant. However, the Fates do not give a thought on who gets hurt and who gets all. Thus, we are stuck in this world. Many a young kid once dreamt of being special or having special attributes that set them apart from other "normal" kids. Some get disillusioned and progress to the stage of maturity, completely forgetting their childhood fantasies. Most pretend to progress.

If only this world were perfect, where everyone studies at his or her own pace, where people don't judge you by your outward looks or apparent attitude, where your friends really are more than just mere acquaintances, where pointless norms are not the norm, I would not want to leave. Unfortunately, it is not.

I want to leave.

Friday, January 21, 2005

This potion needs a (huge) pinch of lust.

Lust. What a primal word, one that encompasses one of the base drives of humanity. It is one which has contributed to our numerical superiority over most species. It is induced by hormones and other stimuli. It is innate, it is natural, and so on, the books claim.

Lust. In text, it feebly smolders. In a casual voice, it sounds cute. In a drawl, it sounds inviting. In a long, low voice, it sends shivers down my spine and somewhere further down. In a high pitched voice, it becomes grating on the ears, but that is beside the point.

Lust. The word is so simple, and yet, so powerful. In the angst of perceived loneliness, it can create vivid visions of nostalgia. In the arms of a partner, it sparks, uhm, creative ideas, so to speak. In a sense, it can make you blind but the problem is whether you can see again.

Lust. Whenever I meet some people I'd rather not mention, I look them in the eye or simply ignore them. When they look away, I find my eyes inadvertently drawn to their lips, necks and other places not safe to mention. Those who interact with me in the real world may find themselves too conscious. Don't worry, I'm not yet too rabid to jump on any of you, at the present.

Your breath: a volatile, burning touch,
is one, each night, I yearn too much.
Should I give in to what I desire?
Or bore myself and quench that fire?

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

From the depths of Judecca to the Primum Mobile

Though I do not share the same beliefs, I still think Dante Alighieri was a great writer. Though nowhere near accurate, one of his works, The Divine Comedy, had, in my humble opinion, successfully brought order to the disorder of myth. I cannot say that I want to be like him, although I do want to be a great writer, just not like him. For any poor soul who may have happened to find my blog by getting lost in the Dark Wood of Error, let me point you down a path which, depending on your philosophy, may get you on the right track or even more lost than before.

You may, if you find computer science alien, browse through the literary sections. After all, as the publication says, "We don't just write programs. We write."

Now, I you'll excuse me. I am suddenly siezed in a sugar-high vision of pink and blue. I am off to write.

Knowledge you hold will soon be past
because nothing does forever last
nor mean anything for more than a while,
from the depths of Judecca to the Primum Mobile.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

The air was still, the air was cold.

It was as cold as the vast expanse of space
when mist had come and touched my face.
I awoke and sought who else was there.
I heard a whisper but I knew not where.

After going for quite some time without my regular meditation, I have become a wreck. Whereas before, I have control of my emotions, showing only that which I do not deem weak or incriminating, I have trespassed the boundaries I have set for myself and let slip quite an outburst. Whereas before I would think clearly even in face of numerous pressures, I now find myself cracking under mounting stress.

Would I that time slow down her pace that I may do what I will and what I must. However, time is a cruel entity; she speeds on, not caring who is being left behind. Thus, I have my hands full of work that finding 10 minutes for meditation now seems an impossible task.

However, I would be lying if I said I totally hate the condition I am currently in. There is one good reason that, for me, overshadows all the negative aspects of life: That I am quite sufficiently, if not more, distracted from things that I'd rather forget, yet haunt my mind. That said, I return once more to the fleeting colours of butterfly dreams, knowing that this too, shall come to pass.

All in good time.

Monday, January 17, 2005

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.

I must have been asleep when Pandora released Hope into the world. For that reason, I warn ye, wandering soul, to heed not my words should you seek sunlight. Although it may appear that I am in a cheerful disposition, one must know that appearance is not everything.

Let this blog be filled with curse,
in thoughts and words, in rhyme and verse.
Let the skeleton of the feast arise,
and begin the circus before our eyes.