When Someone Starts Talking Nonsense..

I’m actually like…

And then I would be thinking of…

…how to color the wind and why God made it that way,

…the ocean and the secrets it hides,

…that dirt on your shoe,

…the ants carrying a crumb of bread,

…how it might feel if I can actually fly and that I should probably wear goggles because the wind might sting my eyes,

…how that lady who just passed by braided her hair,

…how to make a bag like that girl standing across the street,

…what I’m going to do once I got home,

…how to make my current story more exciting,

…what color would best be used for my next watercolor work,

…how the story I’m currently reading would end up,

…how to answer your statements without giving a hint that I didn’t actually hear a word,

…why I left the house at all, leaving my precious activities,

…the title of the song I heard earlier that I needed to download,

…what would it feel to actually kill a person with my bare hands, or what goes inside a serial killer’s head–but I would usually end up thinking I could never do any harm to my fellow human or animal, and then I would step right back to the actual moment and find out that you’re still chattering on and on, and I jump right back to the comforts of my mind…

Yes, these are just some random thoughts that come into my head during a normal useless conversation (not that I’m actually referring to someone in particular so don’t get so paranoid).

Home

I know I’m weird. Like you have to tell me that. (rolls eyes)

I know I come and go whenever I want, and whether you like it or not, I don’t care about the snide comments that follow every effin’ time I stand up and grab my bag.

Yes, I enjoy the moments I share with people, but hey, I also enjoy that moment when I walk down the street listening to my own music. I look forward coming home to where my passions await and yes, call that whatever you want.

I don’t expect people to understand. I understand myself very well as it is.

I completely forgive myself whenever my mind wanders off to a different wonderland in the middle of a boring conversation. But don’t get me wrong though, I listen to the tale, but I choose the words. In short, I summarize and I question and then I go flying away again. Shoot, I wandered off my topic once again, so okay, I forgive myself for that which I doubt you will because I wasted a few seconds of your time reading a paragraph not really directly connected to that title above.

So let’s continue…

And I totally understand myself whenever I go restless and have the sudden urge to go somewhere else nobody ever wants to go.

And that is HOME.

Hey, that’s why it’s called home, people. It’s a sanctuary that no matter how you hate it will always remain to comfort and hide you from the harsh world out there. Yeah, we all want to get away most of the time to escape the raging battles happening inside, but it’s still home.

What you have in your mind as an ideal home is not home at all. It’s HEAVEN, people. And you’ll get there in time, so don’t waste your energy whining about how boring and how miserable your home is. Home is made up by whatever you have—imperfect, yes, but still, it’s as close to heaven as we can get for our transient stay here on earth.

For once, love it, cherish it—and I’m not talking about the building or the infrastructure. I’m talking about what’s inside and what you’ve brought in it over the years, what you have nurtured, what you have kept, what you listed to have… Yes, love it, cherish it because your numbers inside it might just be nearing its end and in time, you will have no choice but to create another one which you’ll still probably hate and ignore.

I know I might not have exactly tackled what I really want to point out here, but then, as I’ve said, you don’t really need to understand me. I understand my self well enough.

Life, Love…and Pillows

There was one time when my mother, out of her gracious good will, gathered all pillows together and changed the pillow cases and—out of her gracious nature again—brought them all back to our beds and the pillows ended up in the wrong places since she may not have cared which was for which.

Night time came and I was ready to go to bed to have a restful slumber. But the moment I hugged my pillow, I realized it was not mine. I don’t know if this happens to everyone, but I was not able to sleep at all. Frustrated, I went from one room to another and searched for my own pillow which I was pretty sure was misplaced by my mother. I stirred everyone from their sleep, smelling, touching and feeling their pillows. I went back to my room that I share with my sister and I found my pillow under her head. I took it and changed it with her own—but before she accepted it, she smelled and touched and felt for it until she was sure it was hers, and she went back to sleep.

As I lay wide awake on my bed, looking at my dark ceiling, I hugged my pillow close and realization crept in:

Life is like looking for your own misplaced pillow—the moment you get to find and feel your way around it, you’ll know it’s yours. It’s like realizing your dreams as well. It might be there sitting silently beside you or it might be somewhere far away. But no matter what, you will always have to get the courage to search for it. At first, you seem lost and you wander around nowhere not knowing where to go to or what to do, but the moment—that very moment—you get to encounter something worthy that represents yourself and your virtues, you can say, “Hey, this is what I want. This is it!”

Searching or finding love is like that as well. You get to be with the wrong person or the wrong situation, and though your conscious mind says you should stay because it seems to be the right thing to do, deep inside you know for yourself that you just got to let go and go out there because somewhere, your “pillow” is waiting. And when you get the courage to get up and look for it blindly but cautiously through the dark, you’ll find yourself in rendezvous with what you’re looking for and you will finally get to have some peace and happiness knowing you finally got what you really wanted after all.

(Don’t question me…I’m procrastinating and ideas such as this tend to enter your mind without notice.)

Twilight is Out

The first part of the final movie of the Twilight Saga, Breaking Dawn, is coming out in theaters. Yey…not!

I’m not one of those people who would line up outside the ticket booth going gaga over that. It’s only typical to most women to line up to see sparkling nude bodies of men who suck blood and morph into wolves.

I’ve read all four books, believe me and once upon a time I’ve fallen victim to Stephanie Meyer’s writing. Who can blame me? I’m a sucker for romance and fairytale ever-afters.

But that’s until I realized the difference between falling for those stories that I would want my whole life to be just the same, and plainly appreciating the fictions.

That’s why these novels and these movies sell. And that is because of people like me out there who are dreaming of having their own Edwards and their own Prince Charming. Or Jacob Black for those who are Team Jacob, slash, wolf.

They prey on women’s fantasies of perfect mates. They polish them to near-perfection. Take Edward for example: Handsome, forever young, rich, super smart, talented, and most of all, a melt-my-heart-I’d-rather-die-to-save-you romantic. And with all these perfections, some things are left unpolished like…Bella.

I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t like Bella at all. It seems that she was left plain and without character so that the readers (especially the female species) can easily replace her character as their own. With that, they can read the book or watch the movie not as a witness but as one of the characters. And to women, they visualize themselves as Bella.

All these stuff feed on the ever raging love hormones of women. They set our standards higher. Imagine that moment when we put down a book and we sigh and wonder why we haven’t met our own Edward yet. We watch the credits of the movie roll and we sigh and wonder why we can’t have that fairytale ending. Why can’t we just watch, read, and appreciate? Why do we have to compare them to our actual life and by doing so, we miss a lot of opportunities coming our way.

Hey, I’m not saying you should stop watching or reading stuff like Twilight and some others. I’m a writer and I know that a simple story with nearly-perfect character/s can greatly help you achieve a large amount of reads and great feedbacks.

This is just something I wrote to express why I’m not in the theaters lining up for Breaking Dawn and I know I’d eventually get to see the movie itself when I get the time.