Find eternity in every moment.

Every sunset. Every sunrise. Every cup of tea. Every joke. Every smile. Every "nice to meet you". Every "I miss you". Every bloomed tree. Every flower. Every meaningful conversation. Every minute spent with a friend. Every baby's cry. Every golden moon. Every tattered page of an overused book. Every rainfall. Each and every moment you're alive. 

I'm trying. 

An Idler.

Last night as I lay in bed thinking, (hmm, seems like I do that a lot, no?) I thought of the most wonderful topic to write about. I structured beautiful sentences and lovely punch lines. The problem is, I can’t remember any of it. I’m totally blank. And I praise the fact that the problem itself is a topic worthy of writing about, the wonderful sentences excluded.

I have always thought of myself as something of a daydreamer. But daydreaming seems to be the luxury of an idler. Daydreaming is very important to me since it’s through daydreaming that I raise questions about society, form my opinions and my ideals. It’s through daydreaming that I blog.

Now, I can’t find the time, not during the day at least. After the lights are out, however, I have all the time I need to ponder and turn and spin thoughts. However, the result is dubious. The most immediate consequence is that I lack sleep; secondly I can’t record what I have thought.

I can’t record what I have thought because I can’t turn the light on, pick up a notepad, or start typing, without fear of awakening my household. Furthermore, I always seem to push my luck. I greedily try to hang on to a seed of thought to see what might become of it. The seed is all I need though; I can water and fertilize it perfectly well during the following day. But no luck, most often I fall a sleep and wake up… blank.

I’m an idler no more…

"Bookaholism"

Like the resident gnome here, let's call him...Mitchell, I like to read. Too much probably. Just like Mitch. Every time I look at him, he always has his head buried in a book. Crazy, I know. And to make things worse, I also like to read online as well. But worst of all, I also adore bookstores, in an unhealthy way. They're a major danger zone for me. It's rare that I don't leave a bookstore without some kind of book under my arm. Bookaholism, I think it's called. I'm a sufferer but I don't want to be helped because see, I haven't hit rock bottom yet. As a consequence, my 'to read' pile continues to grow. I might have to quit school and my social life just to catch up on reading. Oh well. It's a risk I'm willing to take. 

It's inevitable.

Change, that is. Have you ever reached a point in your life when you just come to the conclusion that you are simply not good at something anymore? For whatever reason; the passion is gone; you are completely bored; or maybe you just don't care.

Didn't Johnny Cochran say, "If it don't fit, you must acquit"?

That's what I've been doing. Trying to jam my hand into a size small glove. It cost me a lot of personal things; stress and self-doubt being the worst.

I need to start something new, something that I think at long last is a glove that fits. 

City lights.

This makes me really excited to move to the city. 

I've decided.

Let's not say names yet. Let's forget appearances. Let's ignore age, or social status. Let's just fall in love first. I don't know you, but I know you're out there, and that's all that matters. I don't know what music you listen to, or if you like Bon Jovi. I don't know what clothes you wear. I don't know the color of your eyes, or your hair...





...but God, when we will bump into eachother, it will be the most beautiful accident that ever took place in the universe till now, better than the big bang, more beautiful than the milky way. And it will happen, not because it is better than nothing, but because it is better than anything.

Why?!

In the hell don't we have these around here?! Best thing I've ever seen.

Today.

It's a damn slow day.

I didn't even nap last night. My eyes kept blinking. Staring at the empty ceiling thinking of all the little details in every single corner of my life. Some were curvy, but most of them had sharp edges. 

Three hours later, the clock reading 5 'clock, I covered my eyes with a red pillow so that I'll have the beauty sleep that I need and desire so badly.

Thought.

I've done a lot of thinking lately. The thinking that only occurs when you're pressed between the bedsheets and the clock is staring back at you in bright blue 3 am's and your mind is playing a constant loop of memories you'd rather forget, or not forget.
It's a mix of youthful idealism and hope and a desperate desire to believe in someone against all odds. It's the lure of breathing in a familiar smell while tucked close to someone you silently care about, even though your better judgement says otherwise.
I know that life is not a romantic comedy, but I guess I've still kind of fallen into the idea that maybe sometimes things are meant to be. 
I might still fall silent when I stumble across conversations or pictures. I might stay up until the early morning hours to avoid thinking myself to death while trying to fall asleep. And, yeah, I might still ache to hear the one thing that I know I will probably never hear. 
So, maybe I'll continue to waste my time, and maybe not. However, settling for familiarity is simply bullshit. 

Happy Birthday.

Happy Birthday! To my dear and best friend, Catherine Dulan. Look what I drew for you!

I was too lazy to actually scan it in. So this is the best you're going to get... But I like it!

New sneakers?

Seriously, this is just so exciting.

Turns out, I DON'T have to work out 7 days a week, have a personal trainer, and deny myself all sugar and carbs.

I just have to wear different SNEAKERS. Wow, life just gets easier and easier. (Roll my eyes)





Okay, then who wants brownies? 

Invisible.

Hope.

Hope. It keeps us alive and going. It's the reason why we do anything.

Hoping that we pass our exams with flying colors. Hoping that the people like our new hairstyle. Hoping to graduate from university with a degree. Hoping for our dream job. Hoping for that luxury car we've always wanted. Hoping for that flashy apartment pad in the middle of the city. Hoping to get the guy or girl of our dreams. Hoping to escape from our miserable existence and go on to greater and better heights. Hoping for a better life. Or are we just hoping for the wrong things? Putting hope in the wrong things? Who knows.

Whatever it is, it's hope that drives us on with our lives. It gives us a sense of purpose, hoping that what we do will lead to better things, giving us something to look forward to. Without hope, we might as well be dead.

But sometimes, just sometimes, hope can mess up your life. Too much hope and you never know when to quit. It's good to have a 'never quit' attitude, but in some situations in life, quitting is the best thing you can do. Cutting your losses when you're fighting a battle you know you cannot win. Carry on fighting the battle, and you might just end up losing not only the battle, but the whole damn war. The hard part is figuring out how. 

Ridiculous thoughts.

They say a picture paints a thousand words. A picture also paints a thousand lies. And that's only just a picture. What about a video?

I guess that's why there's this little thing we call 'acting'. Can we call it acting? Or is it the real you? If you're acting, take a bow. Take a damn big bow. If it's you, an appropriate question for the situation would be what lies beneath? We never know.

Maybe it's a bit of both. As Shakespeare once said;
All the world's a stage, and all the men and women are merely players.

We are all actors and actresses in this one big play called 'Life'.

You're charming and you charm all of us snake charmers into charming the cobra. Cobra Commander would've been proud.

Charming. Prince Charming.

You weave your magic. So cheerful. So cute. So enthusiastic. So intelligent.

Perfect ingredients for the perfect tragedy.

We fall under your spell. So delightful. So alluring. So adorable. So enchanting. So...charming.

Last Night.

It was all one big blur. A hazy vortex of blurry images and cloudy moments, as if one was looking through a sandstorm. A few minutes or a few hours, who knows? It's hard to tell the time in the dream world.

What happened was lost to the drifting sands of dream as consciousness reigned once again, sweeping the lingering images into some deep dark corner in my head. I could remember nothing but flashes, but that was enough. I think I smiled when I greeted the morning light.