Hello Stranger

I couldn't believe I read my previous posts. Although not in entirety but many of them. I browsed through every inch of my immaturity and am still writing one (immaturity) right now. This whole idea started when I was reading one of my cheap thrills (Glamour). Some article reminded me how it feels when you read through your old journals and that's exactly what I did. Ohhh boy did I really write all those? I remember keeping a diary since first grade, I don't recall saving them till now but this one right here is the technologically advanced version. Thank you server for keeping up with whiners like me. And as Glamour said (yuck Glamour said? what the hell did Glamour say?) upon looking back through this memorabilia slash depression writing slash i-think-people-are-gonna-read-this-stuff and just plain old ranting; you can gauge how much you've learned. Wow! haha. I realized I wrote funny. I laughed at myself. And yeah I know I loved me but seriously I was funny especially my Filipino entries. Self correction was my hobby. Depression was second nature to me. It almost felt like I was just over reacting to life but then again you can't blame the college girl struggling in Manila. whahahaha. And I really was struggling and still struggling financially. Will it ever end?

For the longest time I've been searching and planning where I can do better writing online. I think I've signed almost all popular blog sites but still can't make enough time to sit down and do my site. I wanted to write seriously. I'm not giving up. Maybe I'll stay with dear old blogspot.

Hey I did find love. Here and there.

paranoia

i hope i am not pregnant.

meow

i am reading the piano teacher and constantly thirsting for the non existent machine that causes my dispassion. when you are flushed by scarcity, there is a tendency to give up. but along this feeling is the no-choice quality of life. you need to trudge. just trudge where you are supposed to trudge.

the 100th post

this is mere coincidence. i have a new construction. this would be my last post (and i noticed in my dashboard my 100th too woah) for two years of whining. unconsciously and unbelievably i grew old.

And whisper'd in the sound of silence."

Hello, darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision
That was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
-Simon and Garfunkel


lately i realized what a close friend once uttered about music. she said: music is music. this song by simon and garfunkel is just one of the many many old songs i fancy for quite sometime now. i may have been born in the late eighties but my influence is much of what one may consider as old school. last month when i went home to my parents house, me and my mother watched the concerts of simon and garfunkel, the eagles and rod stewart. i was teary eyed in front of our television because these musicians were really making music. aside from the quality of their voice and the versatility of the instruments they were playing i felt the regard they had for making each song a product of what we call unexplainable passion and vigor in every line and tune they were playing. there was poetry and melody.(as far as my taste is concerned) i borrowed my housemates cds containing bing crosby, the brothers four, andy williams, nat king cole, the lettermen etc and played it with my father. he was very pleased with these songs and surprisingly i was equally happy to share these melodies too. my younger siblings, much to their contempt, can't do anything to change tunes. i know that a few years from now they will in turn appreciate the music as much as i do because of this exposure. i was once like them when my father cooked our meals with nat king cole's mona lisa drifting along with the smell of pancakes. whew.i adore it.

the sound of silence is one of the few songs i want to sing in its entirety.