Can you believe that Al Pacino’s portrayal of Michael Corleone is not included among the 100 greatest movie characters of all time?

On account of my privacy being ruthlessly shattered by my officemates and dorm pals, I desperately resorted to blogging as a means of exhausting my futile ideas and sentiments.

I am aware that blogs are not trash bins of puke-ish emotions and that I should not make the cyber world worse than it already is by sharing my nonsense with the ever-curious nerdy disciples of the Internet, but as I said, I was desperate. And desperate times call for, well, a high-speed broadband Internet connection. =)



Although I have to make use of covert languages to limit the genuine exposure of my thoughts, it is becoming rather convenient for me to put my weariness to rest among the implicit gardens of my blogs. (The language is really contagious, I tell you.)

It hurts to think that Vito is but a figment of literary genius.

It scares me. The thought of having the luxury of unlimited access to the internet. At home. Scaryyyy.

When the new millennium enveloped the Earth about 10 years ago, I learned how to surf the net - a necessary evil to survive in a world of cyber crap.

And suddenly, about 5 years later, the devil, more popularly known as FACEBOOK, came into existence. I mean, c’mon! Give me a break!

Now, FB is part of my day. My life even. A more sane slice of my pathetic brain constantly reminds me of how sick FB is. Like a brain-eating viral scum that corrupts the social animal within every one of us.



And as much as I want to deflect its seductive charm, being an inherent introvert I couldn’t help but bittersweetly hail FB as my ultimate platform to have myself recognized by the outside world that seemed to pass me by.

Sometimes you just stop in the middle of nowhere and realize you have nowhere to go. Maybe I’ll just escape from life. But even with that, I don’t know where to start.

At this very moment, my life is tip-toeing on a tight rope, hanging in the balance. I regularly see some signs that tell me how pathetic my attempts are becoming. Some people say that humans unconsciously like to be hurt so they can wallow in misery just like their favorite movie or telenovela characters. It’s a stupid notion, but considering that I let myself be hurt again and again even though I can avoid it, maybe it’s true. Maybe I DO want to get hurt unconsciously (apparently it’s not unconscious anymore).



It’s one of those days. It just comes suddenly, right between a sunny day and a tiring trip to nowhere. It just comes. Sometimes I wish I could put all my mental processes on hold. Like a factory. CANCEL ALL OPERATIONS.

But I can’t. There are things you have to deal with. And when I say “deal”, for me that means, “do nothing”, or “wait for a miracle”.

Hey, sometimes He slaps you in the face and tells you to get all your shit straight, and start living, for crying out loud! I’ll just wait for that day.

 

What really knocks me out is a book that, when you’re all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.
That doesn't happen much, though.

Holden Caulfield

Lookback edit: This was taken using my Nokia N71. Yup

It’s high time to start living without having to wait for someone to motivate me.

-Nicholson, A Few Good Men



Some people really suck when it comes to swallowing the naked truth of something precious to them.

Like accepting the reality that some SCARS left behind by Chicken Pox are here to stay. FOREVER. Nasty bitchy truth. I mean, how the hell am I gonna accept that??

(Well, not exactly my point, actually, but hey.)