A Plethora of Soothing Stories In a Day

Let me just say that I had one of the best experiences. Though it's not, like, in Africa or Antarctica. I still got hangovers but who cares! I may have sore throat now after lying on the floor and getting all scared, but after the camping, I just might want to go do those things again next year.

So I didn't attend our Brigada Eskwela because I will attend a vocamp (vocational camping) for altar servers. I had high doubts we will get the hang of it and we'll be so happy. Turns out all I need was a little unwinding.

Fulfillment at it's 'less finesse'

After a week - and still counting - of being involved in a Journalism seminar held, of all places, in our school, I find myself reckoning I have done 20+ yawns already. And I discovered my newest talent: sleeping anywhere as long as there's a chance. I suppose I learned several things. And things happen for a cause.

Clichéd or not, being a teacher is not an easy task.

What will you do when you are required to work on something you are awfully, well, let's say it's something you get turned off? I honestly don't depict myself as a person giving questionnaires and holding a chalk. Or even hesitatingly critiquing someone's work as if you had the weight of her life and future in your hands, by the way you use your words. Or in a sense of candor, being a teacher. And it had all come to a pure question of why did I get excited of all these things.

Second Glance; because love simply looks better the second time around.

One word: Riveting.

The story revolves around a ghost-like man falling in love with a real ghost, with the disturbing touch of the eugenics history way back in 1926-1932, and how this man along with his companions solve the uncased close. And how he finally sighs and waits for a brighter tomorrow; with a twist previous to it, and ahead.

Ross Wakeman, a currently hired paranormal investigator, killed himself thrice and constantly failed. Now he wastes his time looking for something our pair of eyes couldn’t see: a ghost. He didn’t want any random poltergeist; however, he only does this crazy thing, without any hope in his quest, to find her late fiancée Aimee (after the accident they were involved). Meanwhile, an Abenaki group protest about a vast piece of land in Comtosook is being done, and there is a belief there’s a ghost haunting the place. While Ross is hired to stop a ghost, she meets Lia, who sparks her for the first time in his life, well, after the devastating accident. And that’s when things screw up and everything falls apart. And they start mending its way to a better stitch.

I love how the plot goes. Mrs. Jodi Picoult made me read in a rush, not because I’m bored, but because every chapter ends with a thrill. Also, I love how I can read a book about investigating, with a spellbinding touch of romance. After making a heavy sigh, I contemplated many things in my head that anyone, I guess, can relate to. I love how every character here is a hero, from an antagonist to the main character, and how their burden can affect others’ lives in a way or another.

I personally adore Shelby and Eli as they can make my blood rush and how their meet up ends in a happily ever after. Also, I knew from the start that Ross will find his saving grace, but I will keep the details a secret for the sake of someone reading this, and how he doesn’t want to be spoiled about it. And Ethan and Lucy! Oh my, they make a good build up in the future. And this book gave me striking speech marks that I find quotable.

Second Glance, all in all, shows us that anything is possible as you believe in fate and love. If fate is not strong enough, love is unbreakable. Things don’t happen for any reason at all.

Thank you so much, Mrs. Picoult, for sharing us a book worth priceless. You make my burden much lighter by this. And I express my deepest gratitude to Lanie as she gave me this book.

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room, and we're not speaking.

I love Taylor Swift. I must have not admitted it before, but I really do. And this title was a line from the song The Story of Us just to say I love her so. Yea, whatever.

I always reach the point of explosion.

Sometimes, I over think.

It may as well get overboard that I would rather just give up my mental perception to get over a topic - a plethora of drivel topics, actually - so I can finally sound asleep and pretend I am very innocent and oblivious regarding a very stupid topic I just thought, in the first place. Then they would all go away. All at once. Wondering, even in dreams, maybe I just thought of this again - when would my silly hallucinations (if that's what they probably call it) stop? I would go through all the pain, no kidding, just to find an elixir of somewhat to cure all my mental disorders. And emotional ones, too.

I'm thinking when I post something like this, all I have in my hypothalamus, if I can still recall it, will withdraw and I will pile another set of them. But no, maybe I was wrong. They keep coming, I'm collecting them actually - not that I have the will to throw them all away - yet nothing goes away. And suddenly they will attack me like they think I'm numb.

Only, they think wrong. I'm not as numb and as hard as they assume. I'm like anyone else, like my own cells in fact. When so much water enters a cell, it cannot hold the pressure anymore. It will explode, eventually. If only I'm a plant... and epidermis. Which has cutin.

And yes, I think everyone's a victim. My apologies for all the people I love/d. I mean the slash, by the way. Or maybe I don't. Maybe I still do.

How do you avoid wetting your pillows, when every night, you only think of horrible nightmares?

I am planning on wetting my pillows. I’m on the verge of wailing tonight. It will take time, probably. Not drying the pillowcase, but to alleviate the pain.

Seven or eight months ago I could still remember the days when I thought I found out who my true friends were. Sincerely, in a crowd full of junks – let me rephrase – full of I-could-not-understand-people, it seems hopeless to find a foursome who can be your shoulder every time, whatsoever. To make it even more superficial, people who can eat with you during recess, slash bonding time, slash lunch.

Honestly, I can count myself as an outcast, more probably a loner. A person no one would even talk to, or even make friends with. Maybe if a classmate of mine reads this in the past (date aforementioned), he would be willing to read this because he knows I’m telling the truth. Those were my ‘dark days’. When no one else could help, love lifted me. As much as I want that song to be my theme song, that’s when I figured they all came along, at one fell swoop.

If those people would let me ask them one thing, I can only muster the words, ‘Where have you been all along?’ and I would fill them with love and care. Okay, love because they took care of me. The laughter we shared, every book we read in unison, every ice candy we ate, and even every time I needed to rush to the comfort room and they have to laugh at me, and we will keep it a secret forever. Speaking of forever, I even remembered a time while reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower, when we all agreed, or SWEAR, that we were infinite, and we will really be there for each other until we see each other again, after another 10 years. There were so much more, but these were stuck in my memories.

State the obvious, I believed in best friendship that long.

Apparently, it only took only seven months or so before I stumble on the fact that there is no such thing as friendship that would last a lifetime, and only my mom can prove me wrong. After those appalling March days, or should I more often think I should call I-subsided-this-time-whatever-month, I now believe that whatever occurred to me the past months were just reminiscences that I will forever keep in this vast treasure chest I call my mind. I repeat, forever. Swear.

Maybe now we got back to our lives. Same old people, same old place, and only a thing changed. It did change. The people I go with now were, I full of modesty say, different and not the people I knew before. I am not telling that they were not amazing but everything’s a bit bothering after losing everything.

I guess if there was a thing that the Time Lord would ask me to go back into the past, I would go back to March and change everything. It turns out I’ve been strong all along, yet these are just fake muscles to keep me going. If I were to choose between living now, or forever staying in the past, I would say today, but it would give me an hour or more to answer rightly.

Sometimes, friendship is not yet enough. Sometimes it’s not the happiness that counts. Perhaps, you will know who will stay there forever in times like even you wouldn’t. Perhaps, people can be bipolar, but even so they will be friends. Perhaps, I am still finding for those people. Maybe I just found no luck, but I will forever be looking for yet another foursome that wouldn’t break my heart into pieces.

Perhaps, now, I do not believe the all-time favorite deception: the nature of the clichéd 'friends forever'. I have been, twice, the epitome of a victim believing that there is such thing as that. Who would, if he was in my shoes?

I’m going to get some tissues. Ugh, now the keyboard’s flooded with tears.

Playing her fancy.

While writing this, I realize that I’m one of the few people who think love is immeasurable. Nonetheless, its manifestation is easily seen; the way a child kisses her mother, how a crazy lunatic is reformed to be a better man. All of these we do for the love of God. People need not to grab so many jewelries just to be loved. I firmly believe that people are loved for who they are; and what they have been doing to others… and not what they possess.

I have said this before (not here though), and I will say this again. I will learn how to play a guitar.

I guess I don’t really, and will never understand how to make a girl happy, in a way that I will know, too. I don’t know, when reading fictional romance books and watching shows, how I can easily be captivated by people who were in the stage of courting; when really I don’t get to experience the whole process. It seems to me that the feeling will only be tear-jerking if ever the boy doesn’t get who he wants; and the girl is forbidden to say yes. And who in their right mind would want to taste the bittersweet feeling of being in love and rejected in real life, anyway.

But I have always kept this promise to myself. I will play a guitar, whether the notes would sound riveting, or the other way. And I guarantee you, she will be the reason for all of my hard work in getting my fingertips hurt and my whole day wasted, no, scratch that, used up - in a way that I will not bewail over it. She will be proud of me. My future girl. I will consider myself as a doomed to failure guy, but perhaps when I do learn to play that perfect musical instrument to tickle her fancy, only fulfillment will envelop me, us. She's a lucky person, because I'm going to do my best to learn to play it. To dedicate it to her.

This does not have to do with relationships and school, but having little objectives can be a way to garner your goals more easily, just like me. Come to think of it, I might be prosaic to get my girl happy. I might write poems or be a book writer someday. She will be the inspiration. Or maybe I just like writing. You see, I’m having little objectives again.

But I’m seriously going to pluck, strum, and play her fancy.

There's no turning back.

I can only be disheartened every single time someone - by someone I meant almost anyone I know - will let me reminisce how I first felt the startling feeling of 'falling in love' and the devastating 'heartbreak'.

My mom once suspected if I was gay, because I never told her a single name of a girl, except Janelle, one time I needed to go to her place and asked permission. My father, who was very much anticipating for my first girlfriend, whatsoever, was just beside me. I couldn't tell them what had happened to me. I can't explain to them that what I need is someone who can comfort me, that time when I was completely broken, and it's like my heart, once a plethora of different emotions, became nothing I know.

Up until now, I have to admit I'm still having hard feelings about anyone involved here. Many say I must move on. And all this time I've been doing everything just to get my butt off this stuck rotten love I've been ensnared. No one even asked me if it hurts so much. They just ask the clichéd questions, like 'Have you been moving on?' or 'Are you eating?'

I don't know if I'll survive this, but I'm hoping anyway.

In my shoes.

What's the feeling? When you're in someone's identity? When you realize, out of nowhere, that you spent your entire life being a person you never know, in the first place?

I was once the normal kid anyone could tolerate - a timid, silent kid - yes, maybe I never got out of the box when I was a kid, because I can never state any adjective more than two that suits me best. Everyone must have been thinking that I was a person with no problems at all... that I was someone who can manage all of my problems with no sweat. But no. No one, I believe, can be like I was. I also needed to be someone who has friends that can be my company wherever I go. I need an identity more than what I have right now. I'm awfully tired of all of these. But all of these, only one could understand. And I've have to say aye, when I will ask who was that.

I made a promise to myself that everything will change when I enter a whole different set of people, place, and life.

I didn't mind if I would lose a very pivotal thing I own, my past identity - being the person everyone admired, let alone, know. But what good can it do when in your part, it would be so much of a burden? It's annoying how some people want to be in other people's shoe, when that someone wanted to be in someone else's.

Contentment always seemed to be a thing like impossible. Anyone aspires to be someone better than the best. And with that tiny little fact this world had carried, everything can be ruined... from a life of an ant, to the destruction of a whole continent. It seems funny how I get way far from the topic.

I know everything became a little lighter (when I did what I have to do, you know, the thing), but in some terms, I could not handle the pressure anymore. It's like, I want to give up on life and let me just die alone. Right now, I don't know what I want. If going back to where I have been used to since the day I opened my eyes, then I would be denying. If it was something I will never know, I don't know if my life would be complete. I can't really decipher what I am feeling right now. Do you think I'm crazy? I think I am. I guess some people think that way, too.

Everyone has their own opinion, and if that is theirs, no one could ever break it. That's how life goes. I guess, on my part, my opinion doesn't get to be known.

Maybe a lot of people see me as a straightforward human, a person who can say whatever is on his mind, but the truth is, whatever I have on my mind... I can only speak a fraction of it. It's another fact that maybe some people would never get what they want no matter how they reach for it. And that's the way life goes, again. People just have to act like it's nothing, that's how they cope with it.

But on the brighter side, despite my desperate need of enlightenment about life, I think I am done. I k now everything turned out like what's in the plan. I guess everyone, in my shoes, can feel what I feel right now. I am pretty awkward, I think. And ironic, too. I can be as loud as I can, but I will never tell you what I'm really feeling inside. That's how I'm trying to cope with life.

I do not know where I am off to go, but what I am sure is that where this boat I'm riding on, will only take me to a place, where I like. A place where there is no real problem. Where I can be the one I am hoping to be, and wishfully, mindlessly, I can be safe.

I guess I only made this because for the past years I am trying to cry out what I have been carrying... and I swear it's a bigger weight than ever. I apologize for all of the things I told here, because even me, no matter how much I read this again, I could not explain what I'm really pointing out. I maybe speaking wise, or maybe it's just me who can think of all of these nonsense.

I believe the latter part though. Nevertheless, these pieces of my life are not nonsense.

My Fictional Hero

My life is a mess, yet no one heeds it. I sometimes, out of the blue, would ask myself, ‘When will I find my hero?’

When will I find the hero that could defend me? The hero that I could find solitude with, whenever I needed one. The best friend who would be there, when everyone else turned their backs on. The one I could always count on, and never asked for anything back. My hero that is my console.

But then, I realized that I will never find one, because the only way to do so is to find one in myself. I know, I will find that one, but I just have to struggle harder, to seek that fictional hero I am obliged, wanting, to find.

Perchance, this is a result of watching several cartoons and repeatedly being entangled in a fake fantasy, where there were no witches and harsh dragons, yet real and more deceiving people are going to love you first, then stab you, so painfully, that you will lose hope.

But, when I did, perhaps when I did find that hero, I will find no more worries… ever again.

So, yeah! This is my blog, which is surprisingly required for our English subject. But I will make sure I will make the most out of it. Yes, I sound too aroused with all these blog things. But please, do not be astounded with rants about my life and things I complain about. Because that’s what I fancy a lot.

And, oh, don’t forget sweets. I love sweets.