So sue me.

I know I said I will not post here anymore after I said all those things, but my site counter in Blogspot is serviced by Bravejournal, so I cannot avoid logging in from time to time.

I decided to have a look around the old place, including the daily hits this blog gets. Well, what do you know? It seems this blog has doubled its hits, if the counter is not lying. I keep thinking of reasons why should it get twice the amount of attention when I have stopped writing here altogether.

Somebody out there got any bright ideas?

All I wanted was to write, to express myself. To rant about my everyday life and my boring existence. I never realized I would be hooked at blogging. I haven't updated as much as I'd like to, work and school and everything else kept stealing away my writing time. And then I made the mistake of creating another blog account somewhere else.

My first post there was entitled "Perhaps Not a Good Idea". I never knew I can be prophetic sometimes. True enough, I found myself balancing my writing time between the two accounts. The original idea was to keep the serious writings on this one, and more of the mundane things on the other. I managed to succeed in doing that for the first few months. But then it became easier to post on the other one, with just a few clicks I'm able to post a new entry. Entries here came farther and farther apart, I even stooped so low as posting the same entry as in the other. But I did it only once, you can check.

As it is, I'm having a hard time finding the time to write. If only you could see my reaction paper backlog, six feet under is nearing actuality, literally. I really don't want to do this, because it's my first blog account, and I have put in writing here part of myself. If you read the past entries, it's my life the way I want others to see it. It was what my heart and mind contained at that given moment. Whatever you read here is me, what I felt, saw, heard...even if it's not my whole life, it is a part of my being.

I have decided to give up this account.

I'm not going to delete it or any of the entries. I want the Internet to archive what I wrote, some people might still find it entertaining. But I will not post any new entries anytime soon. It's making me guilty, because whenever I look at the statistics, lots (not thousands, but still lots) of people visit here everyday. I feel bad that they don't have anything interesting or new to read because I was lazy or busy or just not in the mood to write.

To those who have been checking here everyday, thank you for your time. I never thought I could attract that much people here. Well, maybe five friends, but that's it. And only because they know I would disown them if they don't do so much as pretend they read it. If you feel I'm still worthy of your time and attention, you can go to My Other Blog.

Au revoir (sniff)...

I'm a Taurus, and its an Earth sign. Now I take this test:

Your Element Is Air

You dislike conflict, and you've been able to rise above the angst of the world. And when things don't go your way, you know they'll blow over quickly. Easygoing, you tend to find joy from the simple things in life. You roll with the punches, and as a result, your life is light and cheerful. You find it easy to adapt to most situations, and you're an open person. With you, what you see is what you get... and people love that!

So what does that make me? Earth and air equals dust. I despise dust, they get into every nook and cranny of the house without doing anything. They just get in there. If I'm dust, then why am I still stuck in limbo?

I don't even know why I'm crying, and I've been at it for 30 minutes now. Yes, here in the office. Golly, this is so unprofessional.

I've been pissed off to high heavens since yesterday. Ms Negastar of the Kingdom of Epal has been on my case since the beginning of the year. This is bad luck, I really have to shake her off my system. Or maybe even the universe, that's better. But nobody can seem to shake her off, mainly because nobody else wants her.

It must be really sad to know for a fact that nobody, if they had a choice, would pick you. But she can be so pathetic in her underhanded ways to overcome an acute case of paranoia and insecurity. She takes it all on us, using time-old tactics like kaplastikan and tsismis. Two-faced hag.

I really don't want to be involved in something like this, but I guess I don't have a choice. I am now in the middle of the cheapest office intrigue perpetuated by the Royal Pain in the Ass.

Friends are saying I should not cry over this because its so petty, and she's totally not worth it. I know who I am and what my capacity is, and I have a life. But I'm not used to this so this is my way of coping, to cry. I don't agree that crying is a sign of weakness; it's actually pretty brave to scrunch up your face and let it flow (especially when you're in public). I'm trying to stop but the tears just won't. I even look like a choked frog now, my eyes are bulging from squeezing out every drop. Even my tear ducts couldn't keep up.

I think I'm not really crying over that thing, I'm crying because I haven't really cried for quite some time now. Maybe subconsciously Im crying for some other things that is wrong with my life that I won't acknowledge, which is a lot. Maybe this unfortunate thing that's happened is just what triggered the tears. To keep it simple, maybe I'm crying just to de-stress.

Admit it girls, crying is a real stress reliever (and stress can kill you). Whether it's Judy Ann tears (papatak lang basta, walang emote), Ate Vi (with throwing of things), or an all-out bawl, it just frees you. It's like the rain, it washes you clean inside. After the tears, you feel refreshed, the tightness in your chest gone.

As I end this piece, I've stopped emoting for the hag and for every wrong thing in my life. There will always be people like that and there will always be screw-ups, and I am free to cry.

I am so sorry. I didn't think this would happen. Of course, I had a feeling that doing it might not be a good idea. I thought I could do it. I was so confident of myself that i never had any major doubts.

Yes, I am sorry but if you would ask me if I would undo things, the answer would be no. I still would have done it but in a different way. I guess I am sorry not for doing it, but for neglecting you. I love both of you...believe it or not. You might be mad at me for admitting this so openly, but that's the way it is.

I know...you will say that I am the only one for you, how could I do this. But I had too many choices! It was so tempting to do it, and it seemed that so many people are on that side of the fence. There is also that feeling of ease, that carefree atmosphere, that it's so easy to say whatever I want. Not that I find it difficult to talk to you...but you know how it is with you. There's so much to do before I  can actually say something.

I'm sorry. I'm not letting you go, but I want you to understand why I did it. I want you to see my side of the story.

I'm so sorry I opened an account with Blogspot.

I haven't seen TMC for quite a while now, I've been regretfully (!) busy with other things. So here I am, racing against time to produce my 4th paper for this blasted subject. I have exactly 1 hour and 20 minutes to come up with an acceptable proof that I actually read Chapter 4 with the Machiavelli quotes.

I don't know why I'm blogging, but it warms up my brain somehow. I can't churn out technical words just like that. I am right-brained, for crying out loud. Sometimes, in my moments of self-doubt, I wonder what am I doing here studying TM. What if I am really destined to slosh paint on a canvas, hoping somebody would interpret it as my very own angst? Or do pottery? Or just write?

Fortunately, I am materialistic. Except for a few exception to the rules, most artists get famous when they're old. I don't want to starve for the sake of my art. I still wanna be able to pay my bills, afford my gadgets, and go out with friends. I can't do that if I will be so shit-brained to insist that in this life I am supposed to be an artist.

So enough blogging, back to Machiavelli.

Ok, I'm not going to continue the previous piece. I have tried and tried, but it just won't come out. Let's just say that after years of trying to be an "us", it just wouldn't happen. Even with half of my highschool yearbook -- if we had one-- waiting for it. So we found other loves (with me finding lots - shucks), and just drifted apart. Blah blah blah, he's married now. Doesn't hurt at all, not even a sting. It was just a severe case of puppy love and what if.

I would move on with what I'm saying if I can only have my coffee now. Dammit, where's my caffeine?

Anyway, I haven't even seen him for the longest time and I have to stop writing about him because he's not interesting at all, trust me. He's boring as hell, and I don't know what kind of spirit possessed me in high school to have a humongous, horrible crush on him. But then again, if we had a yearbook, mine would have said "Offbeat and Unconventional". I wouldn't have objected.

"Thank you for being my friend."  Last words na narinig ko bago ko ibaba ang phone. Medyo na-drain yata ako sa conversation na yun.

Kung curious ka kung sino yun, yun ang malaking What If ng buhay ko, if ever there was one. Sya si A, ang aking high school love team. Kami ata ang pinakasikat na love team nung high school...kasi pati adviser namin tinutukso kami. Kung interesado ka, tuloy mo lang ang basa. Kung hindi naman, care ko, magbasa ka tungkol sa mga ipis for all I care, magkekwento pa rin ako.

It started in 3rd year high school, I was a transferee, I spoke Tagalog, and I was a hoity toity ex-science high school student. You cannot imagine how insecure and out of place you can feel if you possessed those three qualities in the beginning of the school year.

It's hard enough being in a new school, doubly hard if they speak a different language than you do, literally and figuratively. Literally because I suddenly found myself in Bacolod City, and I do not speak a word of Ilonggo. They had an unfair advantage over me, because obviously they can understand what I'm saying, and I had no idea kung minumura na ba nila ko while smiling. Figuratively, because, well, I came from a science high school and it was very different from what my new school is. Suddenly, all my straight-A nerdy classmates were replaced by the children of hacienda workers and hacienda owners, among others. Makikipagpustahan ako kahit magkano, hindi nila kilala si Nancy Drew, or the Sweet Valley Twins. Sobrang simple lang ng buhay sa probinsya. Walang nagmamadali, walang traffic, walang gimikan, walang masyadong distractions.

What can I do? I was an urban dweller. I also found myself rebelling against my parents, who did not have any consideration at all. Just because they didn't see eye to eye anymore, didn't mean we also had to uproot ourselves from what we were used to, right? I found outlets for my growing angst, and I found I enjoyed it most when I taunted my teachers in my new school. There were only a few whom I truly respected, until now.

Much later, nagsawa rin ako. I decided I should have a crush at least. Kung magkakacrush ako, yung karapat dapat naman di ba. I looked around the classroom (I am in Section 1 and I refuse to have a crush on somebody in a lower section) and pondered my choices:

Window #1:  B. Transferee din, artistahin ang face. Anak ng pulis. Might be useful someday. Nge!!! WTF is that? Yuck, kadiri, may sipon sya at dumudungaw!

Window #2:  G. Hmmm...nope. Too nerdy, too skinny, too dry. I'll pass.

Window #3:  W. Son of a PE teacher. Thinks he's a God just because he's wearing these NBA shirts with Michael Jordan on it and his father is the Head of Police of Barangay 19.

No, I'm not dead. But I'm buried underneath six tons of paperwork and whatchamacallits.

That's why I haven't written for quite a while. As I've told Wabbit, I don't have writer's block, I am blocked by work. I have lots of things to say and I can't spare a minute to translate it into words. Because really, how can I afford internet time if I don't work?

Anyway, classes are starting again (!) next week, and I had a three week paper-free break. I got my grades too, and as usual, I got the same grades I was getting since I started the program. I wasn't really expecting my grade in financial analysis to be what it is, because truth be told, DuPont analysis is still a mystery to me. In fairness to my professor, he said it was a hairline difference but I made it to the next higher bracket. And in my other kapakshetan subject, our group were the only ones who had grades, the rest were given Incomplete. I don't know why, but it's the first time it happened with that class.

All in all, I'm not complaining. Despite all the distractions (aminin mo, distraction ka), and I admit I was a truant and complacent student this past semester, I still pulled it off. So I'm wondering somehow, is it me or is it the system? I'm not fooling myself, I am hardly a genius. Sure, I don't exactly have the IQ of GR Jones, but I'm not superbrains either compared to other people I know. I cannot say I pushed myself to the limits with my studies.

Oh whatever, maybe I should try harder.

Life is full of shit and it exempts no one. No one escapes from the crap it throws about, it doesn't care who's being hit. It doesn't care at all whether you just had a fresh shirt on or if you just washed and conditioned your hair, a process which takes about an hour.

Life is full of shit and that's that. It's up to us, you see, to learn how to avoid them. The choices are infinite: sometimes you need to be agile and perpetually moving, mastering moves that would make you shit-free. But that can be pretty tiring if done for quite some time. Nobody can take a lifetime of avoidance.

After half a lifetime of ducking and sidestepping, it finally dawns on you that it will be a perennial thing. So you decide to face it, head on. You still don't want crap all over yourself, but you're definitely tired of avoiding it. So you get a shield. A full armor, if you manage to find it. You try it on, its heavy at first but you stick it out.

For the first time in your life, you discover the joy of walking straight. Unspeakables are still flying all around you, sometimes even hitting you. But you just keep walking, because its hitting the armor, not you. You could always wash it off and start fresh.

Then you go out again in this world full of shit.