Monday, April 20, 2009

~exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding~

Well, things seem to be going to be ok, at least friendship wise, and at least in writing. We'll see how different are actions from words tomorrow.

Also, she asked me what a best friend was, and I liked my definition, so I'll set it here too. ^_^

~~~
Go out, spend time together, talk about each other's lives, go for ice cream, and usually stick together a lot. Someone who doesn't keep secrets, because they enjoy each other's company. Someone who won't hurt you. Be there when the other one needs you, no questions asked. Lend a shoulder to cry on, and advice, even if I don't want to hear it, because a best friend isn't there to tell you what you want to hear; but what's best for you. Someone who cares for you almost over himself. That's what a best friend is to me. That's what I am when I am a best friend.

~~~

Fear versus Hope

It's amazing how fear and hope fight over my mouth. After some chatting, I ask her if I can see her tonight. I'm totally afraid she will refuse me, but I hope she won't. I need to see her. In controlled conditions, before class and normalcy try to consume me again.

She said she would! Well, she said she'd try and stay awake, so I don't know if I will see her. I hope I can.

She says she wants us to be best friends, but I sort of feel like an acquaintance, watching a life that isn't my own through dirty glasses. I'm not a part of her life anymore, and probably never will. I just hope I can be there for her in every way she needs...

Superficiality...

I text with her, about superficial subjects. What book she's reading, about her going to the beach... it hurts to be pushed out of her life, when I was once everything to her... but I must endure, should...

Hope's the last thing you lose, right?

First contact...

Talked to her for a bit, text messaging only, though. Seems she's sick. I wish I could help her, but I don't think it would be welcome even if I could, so I'll stay quiet. Tried to send her a text message, but my phone won't let it go.

I wonder what tomorrow's gonna be like...

First post from my G1

At work, in my lunch break... pain doesn't recede still, though it seems to somehow be associated with hunger... yet it makes me less willing to eat. Odd...

Sunday, April 19, 2009

I will always love you...

You know, it's strange... i just arrived at my house, after not seeing or hearing anything from her in the past 2 days, and I don't know what to do. i know people have told me I need to move on, but if the heart's meant to have an on/off switch, I fail to find it.

I sit in my room, in my chair, and even in this lonely room she surrounds me. My bookshelf, which she organized, reminds me how much she loved me; enough to fix all that while I looked and did barely anything. I look at my bed, and all the time we shared in it, both excited and restful. I look at my desk, and I can see her silhouette, playing World of Warcraft on her laptop with me, asking me what instance we're gonna run next...

The truth is, she left. I was trying my best to fix everything, but apparently someone else gave her what I couldn't, and she left for greener pastures, as they say. Now these have started to rot, to wither and die, without her light.

I wish for many things... But foremost among them is that someday, she'll know how much i love her. Because I still do. Like a song says:


But I cannot forget
Refuse to regret
So glad I met you
Take my breath away
Make everyday
Worth all of the pain that I have
Gone through
And mama I've been cryin'
Cause things ain't how they used to be


And I wish things would go back the way I used to be... I've always believed that I don't regret anything I've ever done, because all my actions have made me who i am, and I don't think I'm so bad. Now I'm not so sure. A friend of mine says that I shouldn't regret anything that made me smile, but what if I also hurt someone else? I've never regret something in my whole life more than losing Gynoshka Babilonia Febre...

And if you ever read this, love, I don't think I have to say how sorry I am; I think I was clear on that even before this last bit. I just hope everything works out wonderfully for you. You always deserved better than me. But I was selfish enough to hope you'd stay anyways.

I will always love you...


Saturday, March 28, 2009

Responsability (Responsabilidad)


Dying is easy. It's living that's hard. To live with the consequences of your actions; to face them, and say, not to anyone else, but to yourself: "This is my doing." That is hard. Death would be merciful, stripping the pain and tears from my flesh. Death would be merciful, tearing the memory of her smile from my mind. Taking the pain and solitude of my loneliness from my hands. Taking my eyes so I don't have to see hers, sparing me their pain, pain that I cause. 


Death would be a mercy, but I must go on... There is much yet to do, so yesterday's mistakes are not repeated tomorrow. There is much yet to resolve, both for myself, and for she who doesn't need me...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Morir es facil. Es vivir que es dificil. Vivir con las consequencias de tus acciones; enfrentarlas, y decir, no a nadie mas, pero a ti mismo; "Esto lo hice yo." Eso es dificil. La muerte seria misericordiosa, arrancandome el dolor y las lagrimas de mi piel. La muerte seria misericordiosa, extirpando el recuerdo de su sonrisa de mi mente. Quitando el dolor y la soledad de mi abandono de mis manos. Desgarrando mis ojos para no tener que ver los de ella, salvandome del dolor en ellos, dolor que yo causo.

La muerte me traeria misericordia, pero tengo que seguir adelante... Falta mucho por hacer, para que los errores de ayer no se repitan mañana. Todavia hay mucho que resolver, tanto por mi, como por aquella que no me necesita...

Monday, February 16, 2009

Machiavellianism Personality Test

A test of 

Machiavellianism

...undefinedIundefinedgotundefinedaundefined77,undefinedyikes!

Machiavellianism is, according to the OED, "the employment of cunning and duplicity in statecraft or in general conduct", deriving from the Renaissance diplomat and writer Niccolò Machiavelli, who wrote IlundefinedPrincipe (TheundefinedPrince) and other works. Machiavellian and variants became very popular in the late 16th century in English, though "Machiavellianism" itself is first cited by the OED from 1626. The word has a similar use in modernpsychology.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Some Words for You...


Hey... I know that you wanted some time away from me to think, and I want to give it to you. But now that I don't spend as much time talking to you as I'd like, I find myself with a lot of bottled up feelings that I want to say.

Right now I feel a mix of hope and despair. I hope that you find me in your heart, deep down where I used to be. I hope that things go back to the way they were, if not to how it started, to where it steadied, which in many ways was better, if not flashier, was more stable. More fitting a future together. But I also despair. I'm afraid that you'll find your heart whole, missing nothing, and thus, will forget me.

Yet still, I hope. You apparently still like to kiss me, and seem to feel something from it, even if you don't know what. You asked me for my shirt to wear tonight, so you seem to still derive comfort from my perceived presence. You cooked for me, though whether as payment for my passing the trimmer or for the pleasure of pleasing me I don't know. I know I mowed the lawn just so I could be with you, and get your mother off your back. ^_^

Yet I cry. My tears flow endlessly, if not in my eyes, in my heart. My shower was not one of pleasure, because I drown in my tears. They fill up the tub, my only companion in my sadness. I'm not letting anyone else near me. Not even her, whom I'm sure would comfort me, if not for her friendship for her other feelings... But that's probably why I avoid her. I don't want her tainted sympathy, or anyone's sympathy.

It's funny how when people go through the situation of losing a girlfriend, people always hear the same words. "There are more of them out there." Isn't it obvious that if I wanted any of the others I wouldn't be crying? Thus, if I cry, it's because I don't care for the others, only for the focus of my attention, my love, you.

I thought that, as a goodbye, I should write some story, of lost romance, yet hope for the future. Maybe that way you'd see how I felt, and maybe understand. I also thought I should try charming you into my arms again. I even went as far as shaving my face. *laughs* But then i thought that maybe that was my first mistake, charming you that Christmas so long ago into being with me instead of letting you decide for yourself. Maybe all this has been a lie stemming from that bad decision in my part. Who knows.

But alas, my muse escapes me. She doesn't want to talk to me. In fact she's reading this now, thinking of me by extension, and wondering if she should take back the pitiful fool of a boyfriend she used to have. Or if he should just be her "best friend". The death sentence.

I still don't understand. How can you not understand what you feel when you kiss someone? I feel rose petals, for instance. Rose petals and honey. Your skin is soft, and the happiness that brims in my heart when you kiss me is sweet. Or the jolt that courses through my skin, lighting every neuron on the way to my brain every time you touch me, making me acutely aware if every contact point between you and me.

The soft chiming of bells that is your laughter... How can I keep myself from tickling you, with such a beautiful sound filling my ears? It reminds me of late nights in my car, at "work meetings", yet listening to music on your iPod. Or was it my iPod? i don't know and I don't care, that wasn't the important part. The important part was the touch of your skin, the scent in your hair, the taste of your lips, which graced me for almost a year and a half, if I count the stolen time at the beginning...

But it seems it's over, though hope still shimmers faintly in my heart. The glimmer in my tears is stronger, for they are much more abundant, but it's still there, holding my heart together, patching the hole your absence leaves... Looking out and praying you'll be back to fill it, and thus me, with the life that filled me when we were together...

I love you, and I always will.

I know I said I didn't believe in breaks, but like I also told you, I'm tired. I'm tired of the stupid dance humans dance to find a mate. Right now I had a future planned out, with my studies, my work, my love... Now I lost one of the cornerstones in my plan, And it may fall on that side. I'll just go on, even if those two have to drag the rest of me through.

If you want time, take the time. As long as you don't lie to me, my world is yours. And when you know what it is in your heart, let me know. Whether you heal my heart, or shatter it forever, I don't care.

The promise of hearing your voice one more time will keep me going until the end of time itself.

SNL Delivers Hardcore Content to Wii

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Prayer to a Star

Prayer to a star:

You who are in the sky, who observe over all, who give us hope with your light in the heavens, please listen to me.

I am earthbound, so i lack your perspective and vision. Perhaps from up there you can better see what happens, and that's how you can stay there, unwavering, without doubts. But i can't see past my current situation, and lack the knowledge to shake this fear from my bones.

Please share some of that steady light with the thread of my life, so that i may stand steady, come what may. I'm scared, very scared. It's the best i can do to not cry all day. Please, shining stars from my sky, please help me.

Thursday, January 01, 2009

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

This blog...

I'm sitting here, at work. Bored. Sick. I had forgotten this space, hadn't been here in ages... Dunno, maybe i should start talking to myself in public again...

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Anger at my "father'...

I don't remember how it starts... I just remember how it ends...

I yelled at him in anger "It's not like you really cared about me. All you care about is the fact that you lost one of your little slaves..." I can't finish the sentence because of his constant yelling. I can't hear what he says: it doesn't penetrate the red haze I see in all things. i just keep saying what I feel. "I mean, it's not even like you're my father... I had more fun with my girlfriend's father in Father's Day than I had with you in all of the past 3 years combined! You're not my father. Any male of any species can grab a female and fuck her..."

This time I can't finish my sentence because of his fist forcefully removing 2 of my teeth. I feel the smack of my head against the wall, since his punch was strong enough to send me all the way to the back wall. I land in the floor in a heap. The darkness threatens to claim me, but I barely hold on to my mind. I can still hear background noise, distant as it is... People yelling, some of them family members... Can't really tell them apart.

With what strength I have remaining I climb up the stairs to my room, on my hands and legs. They don't follow. Of course they wouldn't, they don't care. I reach my room and get a wooden sword, a bokken, that I had for how nice it looked. I never thought I'd hit someone with it. As I exit my room, walking back to the hallway, I can hear him coming up the stairs. I recognize his footsteps because it's the same fear mechanic he's used since I was a little kid. But this time it strengthens me.

I lift myself up to my full height, using the sword as support. And as he crests the stairs and turns his head towards me, I stop him from saying anything. I see 3 loose teeth, and he falls back, on top of other people, all of them landing in a heap at the bottom. I quickly go past them, wanting to go up to the roof. Some of them are moving, trying to get out from under dad, but I don't stop to check who makes it.

I reach the roof, and can just think of wanting to get out of that house, of that place where i've had so much abuse. So, in a moment of insanity, i guess, or maybe absolute clarity, i think only of escape. I run away from the door and jump, head first. 3 stories down, to my escape.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Saturday, July 12, 2008

My Complete Personal Profile

The idea of togetherness, love, warmth, tenderness and mutual understanding fascinates you but you seem to be embarrassed by the thought of allowing this to appear openly. It would appear that you employ a cautious exploratory tactic in the pursuit of this objective, making sure that you are neither irrevocably committed nor found out.

Enough is enough. Nothing seems to be working out as you would like it to and it has got to the stage where you feel as if you can't be bothered anymore. The way you feel is that it would be great if you could be cut off from everything and take it easy - be it only for a short time.

You know what you want and you are very dogmatic and demanding - especially in your emotional demands. You have specific ideas and beliefs and if these beliefs are not realised you can become extremely frustrated. You may not be that perfect but you are looking for perfection with the perfect partner.

From every direction there appear to be unwarranted restrictions on your freedom of action and this is producing considerable stress. You're really looking for independence and freedom from any restriction and therefore avoiding any obligations or anything which might prove hampering. You are being subjected to considerable pressures and you would like nothing better than to escape from them but you tend to lack the necessary strength of purpose to succeed in this. Whichever way you turn you are being frustrated. You need to be free to do your 'thing' in your own way.

You are fed up with other people trying to influence you and you also feel that it is necessary to protect yourself from the threat that your independence and freedom may be restricted. You would just like to be left alone.

Monday, May 12, 2008

...

What am i thinking...

...

What the fuck is wrong with me?

--
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Monday, May 05, 2008

El Piyayo


¿Tu conoces al ”Piyayo”
un viejecillo renegro, reseco y chicuelo;
la mirada de gallo
pendenciero
y hocico de raposo
tiñoso...
que pide limosna por "tangos"
y maldice cantando "fandangos"
gangosos?

¡A chufla lo toma la gente
y a mi me da pena
y me causa un respeto imponente!

Ata a su cuerpo una guitarra,
Que chilla como una corneja
Y zumba como una chicharra
Y tiene arrumacos de vieja
Pelleja.
Yo le he visto cantando,
Babeando
De rabia y de vino,
Bailando
Con saltos felinos
Tocando a zarpazos,.
Los acordes de un viejo"tangazo"
Y, a sus contorsiones de ardilla,
Hace son con la sucia calderilla.

¡ a chufla lo toma la gente
y a mi me da pena
y me causa un respeto imponente!

Es su extraño arte
su cepo y su cruz,
su vida y su luz,
su tabaco y su aguardientillo...
y su pan y el de sus nietecillos:
"churumbeles" con greñas de alambre
y panzas de sapos.
Que aullan de hambre
Tiritando bajo los harapos;
Sin madre que lave su roña;
Sin padre que "afane"
Porque pena una muerte en santoña;
Sin mas sombra que la del abuelo...
¡poca sombra, porque es tan chicuelo;
en el altozano
tiene un cuchitril
¡a las vigas alcanza la mano;
y por lumbre y por luz, un candil.
Vacia sus alforjas
Que son sus bolsillos,
Bostezando los siete chiquillos,
Se agrupan riendo.
Y entre carantoñas les va repartiendo
Pan y pescao frito,
Con la parsimonia de un antiguo rito:
¡chavales!
¡pan de flor de harina!
Mascarlo despasio.
Mejo pan no se come en palasio.
Y este pescaito, ¡no es na?
¡sacao uno a uno del fondo del má!
¡gloria pura él!
Las espinas se comen tamié,
Que to es alimento...

Asi....despasito.
¡no llores, Manuela!
Tu no pués, porque no tiés muelas.
¡es tan chiquitita
mi niña bonita!..
así, despasito.
Muy remascaito,
Migaja a migaja, que dure,
Le van dando fin
A los cinco reales que costo el festín.
Luego entre guiñapos durmiendo,
Por matar el frío, muy apiñaditos.
La Virgen María contempla al “Piyayo”
Riendo
Y hay un Angel rubio que besa la frente
De cada gitano chiquito.

¡A chufla lo toma la gente!...
¡y a mi me da pena
y me causa un respeto imponente!


JOSE CARLOS DE LUNA (1890-1965)

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Japanese Prank...