entry(26): asshole

         Perhaps it is because of the novel that I was just done reading, of how as a wanna be writer I am again nudged by my thoughts to create a piece. And how could I? How do I start writing if I already feel jealousy flowing through my stream of consciousness? Thus the eternal writer’s block and yes, curse you Milan Kundera, curse you along with all other geniuses. You did me good. So to avoid making a complete asshole (I say that Milan and I hope you see the connection *insert evil laugh here*) of myself, let me be just a commentator then.

          In the novel Slowness, Kundera wrote that, “There is a secret bond between slowness and memory, between speed and forgetting…the degree of slowness is directly proportional to the intensity of memory; the degree of speed is directly proportional to the intensity of forgetting.”  I find truth in that. It can’t be helped that I would believe in some of his notions; given the fact that I really adore this writer (although I have only managed to read two of his novels yet, thanks to the constant reminder of his biggest fan in the house, Fatimah the mither whore.)

Going back to Kundera’s notion of speed, yes I find it quite true. With the adverse effect of modernity, people get so accustomed to speed that unconsciously they keep forgetting. And when one forgets of some simple facts it then that one admits oneself slowly into a comma that he/she him/herself doesn't know about. How else would you explain the monotonous cycle everybody is trapped in today? Of endless planning, due dates and deadlines? Of work, of nothing but work and no art of remembering what it is that drives us.

And in this tone I once again hold my tongue, afraid to end like a trout that can’t stop gagging about being bored. Yes that perpetual boredom that drives some of us mad. What of madness and how is it better than speed? Madness for one is a raw emotion waiting to explode in one’s brain, a scream that is hidden in one’s lungs. It has its own drug, and speed is one of them. In relation to that, madness is superior to speed in the sense that it controls speed. I get mad and I feel the urge to become impulsive, thus the series of activities may take in place: road trip to an unknown destination, jog/hike to an unknown territory and if madness thickens well then it is off to liquor and endless rock and rolling. So if lucky, one might overcome boredom and thus overcoming madness.

Madness uses speed, it constructs speed to its own advantage. Madness summons speed to pacify its intensity, madness deliberately provokes speed to attain the ultimate orgasm – of peacefulness and calm, of slowness. 

entry(25): becoming Zoey

She won’t do it. There’s no way.

Though this kid has some things going astray –

But she won’t.

She can’t do it.

She’s just too…fluffy. She can’t.

She’s been warned. Now Dawn you shouldn’t have.

Oh Dawndy, what were you thinking?

You do know that she’s a rebel by heart, right Dawndy?

But still, she won’t do it.

Yet I admit I would love to see her try.

But she won’t.

Looking at her contemplates on that half-split pill makes me giggle.

What a kid. That’s right,

always read the label, and pretty yes google it over.

Read the information that might come in handy –

            That might come in handy in case the ink spills.

If I could paint that kid, if I could –

I would need a lot of black, yes she would like that? Oh yes black.

Oh wait, she’s touching the pill again, is she gonna do it?

Man I haven’t had this feeling of intensity since –

Oh since when?

Nope she won’t. She’s parking it back.

I’m damn sure I’m going to paint her black.

Oh kid if I could –

But hurry now and my words are loosing me,

Make me dizzy as they are not my expertise,

You do know that do you?

You know a lot about me, how could you?

Flip a coin now, would you?

I’m getting bored now so could you –

Could you really? Could you be, in some ways –

a person that has fragments of me?

And would you really, would you?

In some god forsaken ways trade your soul with me?

The pill is waiting kid.

Now what are you up to?

Hey why do you get up, get your ass back here would you –

            See she won’t.

Now she’s fixing a cocktail, oh the tease –

If we were friend would you shake me some if I say please?

Well it has been amusing, your thoughts kid.

A toast to life and to that tequila you’re playing with.

Don’t do it.

entry(24): becoming Dawn

This is not fiction. Then again, maybe this is. Like a dog chasing its own tail, I just could not rub off these emotions. I have laughed like this before. I have felt these hands before. A cycle that is, but who really believes that things could happen twice? Not quite exact as the first occurrence, but similar--oddly similar.

These are facts. You might bump into some humps of my story and get lost of the time and the person I am talking about. Then again, a circle has no end points.

“Take it off, it’s no use!” Splatters of rain from her mouth as she was shouting these few words to me. Cars and machines running past us. Wishy-washy and splashed puddle of rainwater into our freezing bones. Hell into my freezing bones. Nonetheless, I took my jacket off. That was it, to let it be and just feel the moment.

Moment. Like how she’s struck with art and would be madly in love with her brushes and paints, the visual representations of thoughts that were meant to be.

A few mornings after I awoke with her peculiar scent on my skin, she chuckled as I made that silly face again. They always laugh like that, and it is quite annoying--yet lovely. We breathed each other in, and out of nowhere, she grasped a trip from her head. One spontaneous trip coming up. That has always been their thing.

“Don’t think much about it, just wait and see.” She managed to shut me by her smile. She said the only thing she worries about is that if it gets too dark. I caught up with her enthusiasm and assured her of things and such. So we decided to stay for the night.

We headed to the beach. She cried with the sun’s death as I lay on her lap. She danced like frenzy.

She danced with me. Her face bloomed as I cheated her with that beer that was supposed to be shared. I really could not stand the aftertaste of it. She was happy to oblige and drank half of my share. She was always warm; that night, she was my furnace.  

This part, I should remind you again, all are real. Nothing is added for aesthetic purposes. She was the poet. The visionary. She lay quietly into the night covered with stars and rays of the fully bloomed moon. She lay quietly and staring into the sky, looked at me and smiled. Said, “I have thoughts running in my mind again. I’m about to give birth to poetry, my wife.”

She did. As the other painted thoughts, visions that explain words. The other one wrote sights that needed to be erupted. Brushes and pens, canvas to paper, paints unto inks. I tell you; the cycle never ends. You cut a circle in its circumference and you see a reflection. She was my best friend who became my lover; she was my lover who unconsciously became my best friend.

A circle doesn’t have any end points. 

entry(23): retaliate

The anesthetic spell of love roots in to make us forget about reality. Life is as boring as it is; routines that never end and thus we pray for some adventure (!) and a person whom we call lover to perhaps lead the way to wonderland. A lover to witness our being, our actions, the very complex of our demons; whom by the way nobody ever cared to witness before. So we split our self open; yes we split our legs in bed and our souls bare. Naked enough to be confident on exposing one’s anxieties, fears, and frustrations; confident enough and then challenging until we clash and loathe each other and grasp on whatever it is that remains of one’s infidelity.  The smear of lust and sex and orgasms - oh please orgasms for crying out loud. The conscious subconscious to move away from a lover’s arms and on to a stranger’s breasts - the beauty of careless sex. Free of charge, emotionless, sweet sweat of sins denied mightily in an unfaithful mind. So the other party left nothing but the options to weigh things in hand. To be torn by pain yet be liberated in the acknowledgement that the sinner would be miserable without the parole of the one she admitted to love; or to act brave and cut loose on the foolishness of the impeccable pecker.  By then the lover who was once left behind would have chosen rationality, yet again always rationality. Fingers have been smeared by vaginal fluids, always a bath soap for that. Bodies have been putrefied by the devil’s lips; always her tongue to untraced the crime. By then things would have been set to their proper resolution. Steady things would become, now let us just wait for her retaliation.  

entry(22): welcome back crazy

Tick tock tick tock.

Oh you mocking clock.

Must you always set frames to my happiness?

Now, now hush and let your fear subside. Let your body burn or your brain worn out to thoughts about the future that cannot be. Oh there you are thin air, oh now where? How limited my deck of cards; nothing but a year of fragmented hours. No more of a kid in me but still just a kid in me. And how the world is moving, oh so fast; and everyone will be leaving, oh so fast; and my mind would be thinking of plans so vast. All these plans, so out of hand that even hoping is a hypocritical show; unrealistically set and sugar coated my love. Like that drug set to bring us sleep, that sweet tempting cheat; really tempting. Let us try to be a fool and just be happy then shall we?

entry(21): mad girl's note

First off, you do not get to tell me what to do, nonetheless what to feel, to think and how to love. I frankly tell you everything with confidence because I am as fixed as a compass pointing to North Star. If you find me impulsive do not worry, that is a temporary thing. If you get scared of what I can give then you can always tell me politely. But do not tell me what to do, think and feel – more so, do not tell me about these things if I have not done them yet.

Simple things and yet you have successfully complicate them. I can read you and you are scared as shit as me. I told you plainly I am scared, why can’t you just tell me the same? Must you hurt my pride firsthand by warning me not to be madly in love with you? Or warn me again about the classic phrase Amores Perros. I know that, trust me I know that. You have hurt me really. So maybe you don’t comprehend me. Let me simplify then.

I am in love with you but I know my place.

Even if I love like hell I know my place.

I love like this because I respect life and I know that I never love the same person same as I have loved the past lovers.

Love is too broad to comprehend.

But I always love like hell no matter what the risk, and right now I’m burning.

Now is this the price of love?

I show how I feel. If I want to kiss as if it will be the last time to taste you I do as I please.

I am in love with you and I know how to show it just fine; just enough so as to not scare you, but again tell me if it gets too high.

Now I am the one in doubt.

And again you really scare the shit out of me.

Do you love me enough to be with me?

To at least commit with me.

I think that what scares you is your past.

I know I can’t tell you to forget them, but can you at least remember that I am nothing but your new clean slate?

What makes you think you do not deserve a tabularaza?

And I hate to beg, of all the things I hate to beg.

I do not ask you to do anything but accept it that we are in love.

Do you even deserve me?

Next to being rejected, I hate to beg.

AND IF THERE’S ONE THING I HATE ABOUT PROPHECY, IT IS SELF FULFILLING PROPHECY.

entry(20): poetic impulse

I’m gonna let you loose before I even tie you up. It is indeed a question of wanting you and wanting me back in return. It falls under the categories that they have built; are you in? I bet not.

Therefore, as clearly stated earlier: I’m gonna let you loose before I even tie you up.

These days bring me nothing but blank thoughts, pitch blue night sky, a glowing moon adorned by stars and a bothered heart. A phase of transition to disposition my feelings, whether I love you or preparing to love you yet. Ah, but the misery of it all. We ended in acknowledging it and we live normally again. So I live normally again; and would fake that we never existed. Back to the very start; I didn’t know you then and I’m nothing but a stranger to you.

entry (19): feels like insomnia

Sometime in October of 2009

You just don’t stop. It’s not even an option.

If you want to live free and gay then you got to survive in this city of provocation.

Act deaf whenever your mom tells you to come back and get your freaking masters. Play it cool when your brother says he wants you there for his birthday (plus all those potential lesbians he has reserved for you…yum yum).

Whatever happens know you’re having fun with the challenge.

And what happened to you now after that infamous day? October 19 of 2009, you got fired/terminated (whatever comes to term but “fired” is easier and more like it). First failure you consider to exist in your life’s record. Ah, there goes the problem with you straight A student; finished school without a scratch. While everybody was cheering you, yes those positivists, telling you it is not even considered a failure; that you just fell short, you were just in the wrong time and thus not making it. But you know you hate euphemisms, and you’ve always been too hard for yourself, so no matter how we coat things up you know you did fail. You fail big time.

You went to Cebu – or rephrase that – they got you, traveled you here three weeks after you’ve graduated and pimp you good. Oh yes, they certainly know how to pimp you good. But they changed something in you after five months and a half; just a tiny fabric in your system that you thought you can never have.

See the old you wouldn’t even care less. You always don’t care (not in a bad way) of what happens next because somehow you have always believed in people. You believed in them so much because you knew each one has the accountability to their own actions and that you’ve always been positive towards them. But when you were told to be “assessed” and went in that room and came out of it jobless, you really need to think of what’s going to happen next.

Life baby, it is in front of you and it is waiting for you next move. You are by the way in a foreign land; no daddy and mommy to feed you when you play the role of a bum. No fridge, no unlimited internet, no exclusive bedroom with the disco ball, and no girlfriend (now why do I feel the need to include the last one?). Surprisingly you discovered that you hate to be a bum. You were incredibly restless that you haven’t even given it a day’s rest. You still got cash and mom is calling you to come back but you knew you’d just be spoilt (not to mention forced to act straight). So you declined the offer. Call it your decision to really be independent. So on with your resume and off with your appetite. Yes, for a week you can’t even force yourself to eat and in return have successfully morphed into a Marlboro puffing dragon. It got you a little thinner though.  You have grown conscious about how you spend your money, how to manage your time and how to appreciate the early morning sun. Cut the drama; you have grown (as icky as it sounds) maturely (oh f**k kill me).

And it kills you because you are contradicting yourself. You always want to prove people wrong. Jhunjai assessed you as someone who never quit and you just wanted badly to prove him wrong. You just wanted to quit. Yet you didn’t. You proved him right (and now you just want to bitch slap him as an endearment). No offense, you know you like the effin guy (even though you know you’re more of a man than him).

So you live. You got two companies running after you and have signed in with the first one that offered you a contract. You are living independently in Cebu with the leisure of being yourself. Now you just need to bring closure to that particular day; you breathe and you write about it (perfectly knowing that you always pour things out in words). Now it’s done with. Put it in your life’s treasury, lock it and label it as “PAST”. 

entry (18): love game

How is student right now?

Cut that, she's no longer a student . . she's a call girl now . Constantly working every night in the city of provocation that we'll name "Cebu." And what have bumped into her way so far?

An irreversible addiction to a team leader (TL) that will be known from now on as Lady Gaga - of course CG (that's for call girl, or yeah Christine Gumz) wouldn't risk blurting LG's (Lady Gaga) real name out here in the web, she might get a memo at work. It's not like her growing habit of tracking LG's schedules are scary : the time she goes out to smoke, her breaks and lunch time, the shape of her face, the way her bangs are shaped in her forehead - CG can go on with this trust me ...

Now aside from the healthy stalker crush developing in CG's system, she also managed to get connected to some people. She has actually found some decent friend, kissed a girl, got drunk, bruised her elbow, got drunk, got to a resort without planning to do so and got harrassed by an American hardbutch - like kill me now...

You sum it all and it seems like CG is actually having a fit at Cebu right now. She's done with her training and is actually trying to survive in the company until December. She's living well, and training well, along with the mother of all harlots (hello Fatz) and the Vortex Dutchess (hello Soulsiz). She's been making days out of nights, in constant motion with the moon but she loosing the touch of Sappho. So CG is not making any poetic crap - for now. Yes it may look like she's just taking calls but she is actually busy. Thus explaining why she's been out of her web networking zone for two months. But then again, trying her best to cope, trying her best ...

And what about that date? That one time CG actually tried to get into the pool of dating - the love game. It was flat irritating. For the first time CG was requested to act and perforn straight. So she did, and she did it w/ empahsiz - pink and flower and oh pink. . Swear CG almost died . Anyhow, time is running, and CG still havent got enough sleep . So for this is the update. And the love game is still off.

entry (17): the freak

You would know this is for you, and by that I would know that we have this common understanding of things unseen.

It is not easy putting things off, yet I left them floating in every corner of my mind. I refer to my "mind" because I do not want to admit that the "beat" is getting faster. I may not be sure of everything but I know there is something between us. So let me be brave in my own comfort zone, in which I tend to write everything that cannot be delivered by word. Maybe I will find myself brave enough someday. Or maybe it is not a matter of being bold; maybe it is for the simple fact that I think, I think I do not know how to love (or even any sentiments related to it) anymore. We would end up like trash. I would rather not risk what little we have of today, for something that both of us cannot commit to in the future. But here you must know, and you should, that I think I like you.

It took me a while to register that, and "no" in case you say to yourself that you have been right all along. No I did not notice you then. No I did not even bother to know you. The truth is that, I do not know anything right now. And it scares me because I know that I have been in a situation like this (one way or another). And I know that it will not take long before my heart melts.

entry (16): soliloquy

while it is true that men - and women alike - have the innate and natural fear of the unknown it is worthy to note on the contrary that we also dread the known predictability of our normal life routines; the patterns that we tread in our existence sometimes appear so sequenced - like beads that would become a necklace - and it scares us and so we do crazy stuffs trying to be unpredictable and yet we fail because nowadays being unpredictable is ironically so predictable...

now this is what i become after finishing two novels, overloading myself with movies and yes, trying to paint

entry (15): american beauty

She told you didn't she?

You were chatting there and you said you are going to watch the movie.

She said it is a pretty heavy movie.

You said you can handle two heavy movies for the night. ...

So you start with "American Beauty" and by the end you just want to take back everything you uttered. You get too "dramatic" and you can't leave it to yourself and you IM her through yahoo. As if that's not enough for the night, you rewind the last part and quoted Kevin Spacey; yes you finally decided to just blog about it. You hope the web of the internet would somehow catch a fragment of whatever it is you are feeling right now - which is by the way really hard to define yet you know you feel it. In fact you know you feel it every time you watch a really great film. Going back to the internet, yes you hope that somehow in all this connectedness - through links and tags and everything about newtworking - you can just purge it out there so that it would not feel so heavy. You've finally decided to suspend the other film.

She was right. It is a pretty heavy film.

“…It’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst; and then I remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain, and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.”
- Lester Burnham

entry (14): whatever happens to Student?

One must say that Student is lucky enough to have a major breakthrough in her life - yes, having been graduated must surely be enough to make Student feel complete (like how they always say it in Centrum adverts).

How exactly is Student doing with her life now?
Is she making the world a better place?
Is she finding true love (no matter how gay it gets)?
Is she helping find a cure for cancer?
Is she out on a "Francis Macomber" like adventure (which is short BUT HAPPY)?

Or maybe...JUST MAYBE... Student is just being a complete bum. A slacker. A complete immobile creature that will soon turn into a potato after consuming a lot of fries for almost a week. Oh yes... graduation is not an amulet that would summon the adult spirit into Student's core.

Surely Student is completely aware of the great damages she inflicts upon herself daily. Thus she will therefore share the series of unfortunate events that take place during summer in her life:

1. Student is shrinking her own brain through activities like:
(a) 15-18 hours exposure in from of the laptop screen late at night thus slowly becoming an internet zombie
(b) consciously and willingly aquiring insomnia...and trying really hard to have it
(c) not eating well (this is a classic lifestyle of Student)

2. Student is slowly morphing into a very big potato. She has this idea once (thanks to her other student friends) that eating potato will enlarge her boobs (talk about wishful thinking), so student ends up commanding her mom to buy fries and Student would never fail to have one serving per day (turining a blind eye on all those grease).

3. Student gets in touch with her prehistoric aura; thus living a lifestye that shouts "CAVEMAN" or yes to be genter sensitive "CAVEWOMAN". Yes, Student does have a unique talent in being stagnant inside her "room-turned-cave". In a week she managed to "fossilized" 2 glasses (one with grape juice and the other contains water), a plater w/ fork which used to contain lasagna, and a cup that has caramelized coffee in it.

4. Lastly, Student is learning a new trick - and that is to talk with inanimate objects. Her range of what we call "communication" runs around her laptop, cellphone, the current novel that she's trying so hard to move a page with ("The Europeans" by Henry James) and her journal notebook. It's not that crazy though, Student sure is having fun.

No one knows exaclty till when would Student keep up with her routines.

entry (13): just like heaven

"Show me how you do that trick
The one that makes me scream" she said
"The one that makes me laugh" she said
And threw her arms around my neck
"Show me how you do it
And I promise you I promise that
I'll run away with you
I'll run away with you"

Spinning on that dizzy edge
I kissed her face and kissed her head
And dreamed of all the different ways I had
To make her glow
"Why are you so far away?" she said
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you
That I'm in love with you"

You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Strange as angels
Dancing in the deepest oceans
Twisting in the water
You're just like a dream

Daylight licked me into shape
I must have been asleep for days
And moving lips to breathe her name
I opened up my eyes
And found myself alone alone
Alone above a raging sea
That stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me

You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Just like heaven

entry (12): packing up is hard to do

having slept the whole daytime of march 31 (blame it on the over extended recognition day) i quickly jumped at my phone when it bleeped and read "kimosh".

there, a text message from soulsiz that says she's gonna be at campus around 2pm. i got excited, the thought of hanging out with the dorks again (as if we haven't seen each other the night before) and getting in touch with "school life" where i can feel normal again. so there was kim and yes my clearance thingy but after all that we went to cool down at zoey where we bumped into ivy and mika. not wanting to go home, soulsiz asked if she can just hang and help me pack things for cdeo, i was of course glad to have her there to keep me company. i couldn't, wouldn't possibly have survived in that place with no one to talk to. the whole realization of leaving iligan grew heavily as i've put clothes into bags, books into boxes and whatever stuffs into plastic/paper bags. soulsiz and i couldn't help but to reminisce and talk about the good old days. touchy i know, but hey i'm leaving, we're all leaving this place, and yes we all know that it's sad to leave those people whom you've gotten used to hanging out with. i mean have you experienced that thing when the ice cream is almost gone and that's when everyone would want to have some? it's like now, i mean i used to hurry and leave for summer before because i know that there will always be the next school year...but now it's different. there will be no "next school year" for us, and even if there is (for those taking masteral) it wouldn't be the same without them, the dork squad. here is the part when i let out a huge sigh.

entry (11): a cold stoic you

i struggle to make a heartless poem for you -
that someday i could put a tune into -
and would sing it to you.

i struggle to add some element of melancholic blue -
that suits your every mood -
and so i pay my due

i owe this poem to you -
and now i'm singing it to you -
i hope it adds up to your blue -
hey i'm just paying you my due.

i struggle to evade the four-lettered word -
that makes you churn -
love gets you bored -
and must i burn?

i struggle to fill these box of notes with pain -
wonder if i'm emotionally sane -
and so i pay my due

i owe this poem to you -
i'll keep singing this to you -
i know it adds up to your blue.

i need to pay a poem for you -
a price that is my due -
for wanting a cold stoic you.

entry (10): graduation blues

i'm graduating (or at least that's what they say and would want to believe). a big YAY! and that goes for my batch that would be wearing their togas this coming april 1.

but why on earth does my heart weigh so heavily upon each day that ends?

i'm infected with the worst case of graduation blues

and reasons why i have this kind of sentimentality:

1. eat-outs with dorks @ zoey/mamee noons/teadt's/wherever-place-that-got-great-food
2. sleep-overs @ ken's appartment (or the queer place)
3. roomies that would be left behind (badang verna veve and hakie-doo)
4. delighful professors and instructors - geez who would have guessed that i'd learn to love them
5. literature courses
6. campus life - overnights, chats, light silly stuff, friends, best friends, dork squad
7. free bisyo place - iligan city - can pretty much smoke, drink, be happy and gay *sigh*
8. allowance - money man

so far these are the things that i would want to bring with me

entry (9): walker

a poem by Alice Walker
taken from the collection "Horses Make a Landscape Look More Beautiful"

when i no longer have your heart

i will not request your body

your presence

or even your polite conversation.

i will go away to a far country

separated from you by the sea

-on which i cannot walk-

and refrain even from sending

letters

describing my pain.

entry (8): surviving the seminar

congratulate yourself, you managed to salvaged that little bit of sanity left.

the walking barrel/cheese/mamistahay sure knows how to execute "torture" and i bet even sydney bristow would give up given the situation. talk about living hell. hmf, i hate "cheese".

anyhow, what about that seminar then? for starters i didn't sleep when i attended. i was staying over ken's place and could not risk it with oversleeping so the next best thing is to stay awake the whole time. thing is, when you don't sleep and attend something like a seminar/lecture/mass/language class, you would likely end up feeling like a zombie. point is, i'd rather be dead. so on went the seminar, with dramas along the way (hi to pixie with that) and tasteless coffee. not to mention the over-puffed-air-stuffed bread with whatever in between.

anyhow, lunch was tolerable. a compensation at least for the "air-conditioning system" that seemed to me back there to be doing the exact opposite of its very purpose. imagine having been told to wear something formal, so on we went with long sleeves and collars only to be "sweated" out in the end. thank g-d i didn't prepared that much, i could've worn a gown for cheese's sake.

the miraculous part is that i managed to stay alive in the end. how i did that , i really don't know. or maybe these things helped a bit:

1. pack of cigarettes
2. crazy classmates that were also bored
3. going out to the bathroom but actually to chat/sit outside/take pictures etc.
4. and yeah, secretly cursing the cheese

bottom line is: sleep before going to a seminar, and no more long sleeves.

Dork Squad Survivor Edition
(Shimberly, Shaith, Ratimah, and Shoey)

entry (7): to ms. grape

connections. they make us alive whenever we feel like dying out of boredom. i have had a good few connections that i've treasured, planted and now grown into something beautiful called "friendship".

for the girl that went through my insomnia and lasted till 3:30am (with the 3 bottles of vodka included, yes i will not disregard that), i salute you.

and of course i thank you. it is seldom that i communicate when i'm at CdeO. i usually fall into this whole solitary caveman syndrome. then you had me talking back there, that was fun. i just wish you can share me some of those bottles.

and if you're reading this, you know this entry is about you ms. grape.