There was definitely a reaction. Most definitely. A double-take.
SCORE!!
Yes. That's a good sign. I just hope it's enough to last me three weeks.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
"Be realistic," he told me.
I am useless when I'm happy. Happiness makes me content and contentment makes me lax. Laxness leads to unproductivity. Meaning, less thinking about anything and everything, and lesser blogposts. Eloquency in writing is bestowed on me when I'm in a state of sadness. In speech, eloquency is achieved when I'm angry. Really, when I'm angry, my ideas become chrystal clear and I give a stellar performance in expressing my feelings and thoughts. Sadness has the same effect on me. I wonder why.
I'd just like to point out that before I die, I would love to be as wise and full of wisdom and philosophically-apt just like Paulo Coelho. Every word that comes out of the man's mouth is laced with magic, I tell you. And they make such perfect sense that you would find no better way to express those phrases. How does one become so graceful in thought? Does it come naturally or is it environmentally induced? I have so many ideas bursting from my mind that I keep silent about them most of the time. And when someone comes along and tells me about his/her brilliant plan, I keep thinking to myself, I thought about the exact same thing a few days ago. Why didn't I say it out loud?
What if my silence makes me fall short of achieving great things? What if it deprives me of exploring my fortunes? I know I'm good for something, but I keep feeling as though I'm not good enough for the big time. I'm able to grasp complicated and elaborate philosophical ideas in a heartbeat, that's more than what most people can take credit for. I just wished I had more guts to let people in on my ideas. But I don't trust myself. That would prove fatal in the long run.
So my nieces and nephews are here for the holidays. A bunch of peculiar brats if I ever saw one. And they're adolescents, mind you. So it's awkward that we're almost the same age but have nothing to talk about. I don't know wether I should continue feigning indifference or... or... I dunno, feigning indifference?
I hope that you're thinking about me, now that you're in another country, back where you came from, in the comfort of your own home, surrounded by friends and family. Be safe. I hope that both time and distance turn out to be kind to me. Psychological studies suggest that when you can't stop thinking about someone, it's likely because they're thinking about you as well. I know it sounds like a whole load of bullshit but hey, a girl can hope. Right?
I'd just like to point out that before I die, I would love to be as wise and full of wisdom and philosophically-apt just like Paulo Coelho. Every word that comes out of the man's mouth is laced with magic, I tell you. And they make such perfect sense that you would find no better way to express those phrases. How does one become so graceful in thought? Does it come naturally or is it environmentally induced? I have so many ideas bursting from my mind that I keep silent about them most of the time. And when someone comes along and tells me about his/her brilliant plan, I keep thinking to myself, I thought about the exact same thing a few days ago. Why didn't I say it out loud?
What if my silence makes me fall short of achieving great things? What if it deprives me of exploring my fortunes? I know I'm good for something, but I keep feeling as though I'm not good enough for the big time. I'm able to grasp complicated and elaborate philosophical ideas in a heartbeat, that's more than what most people can take credit for. I just wished I had more guts to let people in on my ideas. But I don't trust myself. That would prove fatal in the long run.
So my nieces and nephews are here for the holidays. A bunch of peculiar brats if I ever saw one. And they're adolescents, mind you. So it's awkward that we're almost the same age but have nothing to talk about. I don't know wether I should continue feigning indifference or... or... I dunno, feigning indifference?
I hope that you're thinking about me, now that you're in another country, back where you came from, in the comfort of your own home, surrounded by friends and family. Be safe. I hope that both time and distance turn out to be kind to me. Psychological studies suggest that when you can't stop thinking about someone, it's likely because they're thinking about you as well. I know it sounds like a whole load of bullshit but hey, a girl can hope. Right?
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Gah!
Nine days til my last paper. Nine days of unproductivity. Followed by three weeks of more nothingness. Boy, this already feels like forever.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
By the Hospital Bed
So we went to visit you at the hospital. Never in a million years would I have imagined that I'd do something as drastic as visiting my crush, someone whom I've never talked to, someone whom I'd steal glances from at the cafe and look away. Never. Ever. Like ever, ever, ever, ever.
But that's what I did, my friend and I. After tossing the idea around and having second thoughts and cold feet and experiencing uncomfortable knots in my tummy, finally I decided to pluck the courage to face you. Let me tell you that it was no walk in the park. According to the wisdom of my mother, we should leave early to avoid the jam and hopefully go in and come out undetected by your circle of friends who might be dropping in on you for the day. Apparently we miscalculated and arrived an hour early before visiting hours. That didn't help one bit. My nerves were pushed into overdrive.
To pass the time we bought you a balloon, sat at a waiting area and talked about all the possible ways this meeting would go and laughed a little too loud for all the pent up nervousness we were feeling. Or at least, the nervousness I was feeling. After prayers we were just in time to see that the first batch of visitors disappear into the elevators, off to the various floors to visit their sick friends or family members.
My heart was beating fit to burst. In the elevator, I couldn't feel my knees. This is it, I kept thinking, do or die.
TING!
The doors of the elevator slid open. I was panicking. I told my friend that there was still time to go back. She told me not to be stupid. Right, I shouldn't be stupid. This was a golden opportunity to finally get a breakthrough after months of just exchanging glances and looking away and smiling silently to ourselves and being afraid of saying hi.
As I walked through the ward, I think my brain just shut down. Panic is a weird thing. After passing doors of sick people lying in bed, we finally chanced upon a sleeping body curled up with his back facing us. That person had visitors. She tugged at my sleeve hard, a wild look on her face.
"That's him."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I know his friend, the one sitting on the left."
Oh. For a second I thought she could identify you by your ass. You have a cute ass, by the way. Just thought I should point it out.
We walked back down the hall and my panic level still didn't cease. Your friend came up to us.
"Are you here to see him? He's asleep. I'll wake him up. Wait for a while."
As we waited at the sitting area, I felt my heart leap to my throat as your friend waltzed in and announced that you'd woken up.
Walking down the hallway to your bed, I panicked more than ever. I pulled her to the side and started freaking out as silently as I could. I guess it took a while and that made you poke your head from the side to see what was going on. When you saw us, your forehead creased. I know what it must have looked like to you: My stalkers have successfully stalked me to this hospital and they know that I am helpless and vulnerable. Lol. I know. It was either that or you were like: My God, what are they doing here? They're not even my friends. How did they find out about what happened?
What we did was bold. I know. But sometimes irrationality is mistaken for boldness.
As I sat down, I noticed that your friends still hung around and that my friend was still standing, hovering by the chair, a dopey smile on her lips. What the hell is she doing, I thought desperately and prayed silently that she'd come to her senses and sit her ass down.
And the first question you thought of asking us was whose friends were we and how did we find out. Great. FML. For the record, I told the truth when I said that we found out from your friend who is a Facebook friend of ours from his status. At least we didn't come off as two psychopaths that have nothing better to do than monitor your daily activies based on updates from a social networking site.
Conversation from then on took a less awkward tone although she interacted with you more compared to me. As expected, most of the time, I sat in my chair like a fool in all my awkwardness that seems to come naturally around you.
You look extremely cute up close. My Baby Dinosaur. My Baby T-rex, clad in green and looking weak and defenseless, hugging his kees to his chest and trying his level best to hide his shyness. Beyond adorable. And extremely soft-spoken too. I had an impulse to hug you and never let go, to shield you from all the bad in the world and protect you from harm.
The one thing that made my existence feel worth while that day was the look on your face as I turned to leave. You were still staring at your knees as I picked up my bag and got ready to go, examining the balloon wedged in between you kneecaps like it was the most interesting invention in the history of mankind. She walked a head of me and didn't turn back, heading straight for the doors.
It'll be three weeks before I see you again. I looked back. One last time. You looked up from your knees and looked me straight in the eyes, a look of pure happiness. A stark contrast from the weak young man I just had a conversation with. It was beautiful.
But that's what I did, my friend and I. After tossing the idea around and having second thoughts and cold feet and experiencing uncomfortable knots in my tummy, finally I decided to pluck the courage to face you. Let me tell you that it was no walk in the park. According to the wisdom of my mother, we should leave early to avoid the jam and hopefully go in and come out undetected by your circle of friends who might be dropping in on you for the day. Apparently we miscalculated and arrived an hour early before visiting hours. That didn't help one bit. My nerves were pushed into overdrive.
To pass the time we bought you a balloon, sat at a waiting area and talked about all the possible ways this meeting would go and laughed a little too loud for all the pent up nervousness we were feeling. Or at least, the nervousness I was feeling. After prayers we were just in time to see that the first batch of visitors disappear into the elevators, off to the various floors to visit their sick friends or family members.
My heart was beating fit to burst. In the elevator, I couldn't feel my knees. This is it, I kept thinking, do or die.
TING!
The doors of the elevator slid open. I was panicking. I told my friend that there was still time to go back. She told me not to be stupid. Right, I shouldn't be stupid. This was a golden opportunity to finally get a breakthrough after months of just exchanging glances and looking away and smiling silently to ourselves and being afraid of saying hi.
As I walked through the ward, I think my brain just shut down. Panic is a weird thing. After passing doors of sick people lying in bed, we finally chanced upon a sleeping body curled up with his back facing us. That person had visitors. She tugged at my sleeve hard, a wild look on her face.
"That's him."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I know his friend, the one sitting on the left."
Oh. For a second I thought she could identify you by your ass. You have a cute ass, by the way. Just thought I should point it out.
We walked back down the hall and my panic level still didn't cease. Your friend came up to us.
"Are you here to see him? He's asleep. I'll wake him up. Wait for a while."
As we waited at the sitting area, I felt my heart leap to my throat as your friend waltzed in and announced that you'd woken up.
Walking down the hallway to your bed, I panicked more than ever. I pulled her to the side and started freaking out as silently as I could. I guess it took a while and that made you poke your head from the side to see what was going on. When you saw us, your forehead creased. I know what it must have looked like to you: My stalkers have successfully stalked me to this hospital and they know that I am helpless and vulnerable. Lol. I know. It was either that or you were like: My God, what are they doing here? They're not even my friends. How did they find out about what happened?
What we did was bold. I know. But sometimes irrationality is mistaken for boldness.
As I sat down, I noticed that your friends still hung around and that my friend was still standing, hovering by the chair, a dopey smile on her lips. What the hell is she doing, I thought desperately and prayed silently that she'd come to her senses and sit her ass down.
And the first question you thought of asking us was whose friends were we and how did we find out. Great. FML. For the record, I told the truth when I said that we found out from your friend who is a Facebook friend of ours from his status. At least we didn't come off as two psychopaths that have nothing better to do than monitor your daily activies based on updates from a social networking site.
Conversation from then on took a less awkward tone although she interacted with you more compared to me. As expected, most of the time, I sat in my chair like a fool in all my awkwardness that seems to come naturally around you.
You look extremely cute up close. My Baby Dinosaur. My Baby T-rex, clad in green and looking weak and defenseless, hugging his kees to his chest and trying his level best to hide his shyness. Beyond adorable. And extremely soft-spoken too. I had an impulse to hug you and never let go, to shield you from all the bad in the world and protect you from harm.
The one thing that made my existence feel worth while that day was the look on your face as I turned to leave. You were still staring at your knees as I picked up my bag and got ready to go, examining the balloon wedged in between you kneecaps like it was the most interesting invention in the history of mankind. She walked a head of me and didn't turn back, heading straight for the doors.
It'll be three weeks before I see you again. I looked back. One last time. You looked up from your knees and looked me straight in the eyes, a look of pure happiness. A stark contrast from the weak young man I just had a conversation with. It was beautiful.
I hope you enjoy your balloon and think of me whenever you hold it. Get well soon, my dear.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
A Few Good Men
The Baby Dinosaur is in the hospital. My Baby Dinosaur. So sad. In the Intensive Care Unit, to be exact. Of all the bloody things to transpire before the final exam, this is the worst. Totally unexpected. Caught me off-guard. Leptospirosis, they said.
The curse of the final exam, that's what it is. The last time around, Enigma fell victim to the jinx with a broken leg.
But this is serious. More serious than a broken leg. A matter of life and death. I hope to God you're okay. That you get better, that everything falls rightly into place, that everything gets back to normal. May Allah protect you and watch over you.
When I heard the news, everything felt so surreal. There was a strange buzzing in my ears. My emotions were akin to water in a basin swirling in a downward spiral after someone pulled the plug. All noise and empty notions.
Get well soon. I'm worried sick. Beyond sick. I'm worried. Just plain worried.
Oh God please. Get us through this. Amen.
The curse of the final exam, that's what it is. The last time around, Enigma fell victim to the jinx with a broken leg.
But this is serious. More serious than a broken leg. A matter of life and death. I hope to God you're okay. That you get better, that everything falls rightly into place, that everything gets back to normal. May Allah protect you and watch over you.
When I heard the news, everything felt so surreal. There was a strange buzzing in my ears. My emotions were akin to water in a basin swirling in a downward spiral after someone pulled the plug. All noise and empty notions.
Get well soon. I'm worried sick. Beyond sick. I'm worried. Just plain worried.
Oh God please. Get us through this. Amen.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
The T-rex Walk
Oh. Umm... I didn't see you today. Not exacly bummed out but bummed out anyway.
You're not that cute, you know. But there's something about you. For what it's worth, you're perfect to my eyes. Your yummy shoulders and cute ass and mess of curly hair. Your smile. And the effortless way you take off your kopiah. And that walk of yours, like you roam the earth. Oh Lord.
My aunt said that you know that that person is The One when everything falls right into place; no forcing, no trying too hard, no hopelessness. It'll be like a shoe, fitting perfectly, without fuss, just nice and comfortable.
I want you to miss me.
I may not be all that but I can make you happy. Marry me.
You're not that cute, you know. But there's something about you. For what it's worth, you're perfect to my eyes. Your yummy shoulders and cute ass and mess of curly hair. Your smile. And the effortless way you take off your kopiah. And that walk of yours, like you roam the earth. Oh Lord.
My aunt said that you know that that person is The One when everything falls right into place; no forcing, no trying too hard, no hopelessness. It'll be like a shoe, fitting perfectly, without fuss, just nice and comfortable.
I want you to miss me.
I may not be all that but I can make you happy. Marry me.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Emotional Enigma
I'm jealous. There. I said it. I'm jealous.
I know I don't own you and maybe you'll just remain a stranger that I see during lunch at the cafe but I'm jealous, okay? Right now my emotions are a mess. I want you so bad but I know that it'll only be a dream. None of my expectations ever materializes into reality. All that's left inside of me is a vortex of feelings that I don't even have the strength to attend to.
I know, I never learn. I'm such a fucktard. So what do I do now?
I know I don't own you and maybe you'll just remain a stranger that I see during lunch at the cafe but I'm jealous, okay? Right now my emotions are a mess. I want you so bad but I know that it'll only be a dream. None of my expectations ever materializes into reality. All that's left inside of me is a vortex of feelings that I don't even have the strength to attend to.
I know, I never learn. I'm such a fucktard. So what do I do now?
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