AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

I am at work and I feel like bashing my face into the monitor.

THAT is how bored I am now . . .

Besides that, life is peachy. I have divested myself from fools and slatterns and come from it no worse for wear. It's amazing what a drama-free life can do for you!

With friends like those, who needs enemies? And why do I even need them to begin with?

Bugger me. I like where I am now.

We have been with people we couldn't stand. We've lost touch with people we love. We've hated a perfect saint for his impossibly lofty ideals. And we've loved the blackest of sinners for their misguided hearts.

What is wrong with this picture?

Latetly, I've found myself thinking--yes, I seem to be doing a lot of that nowadays--that we are not perfect. We have flaws. Some--or rather, most of it--glaringly obvious. The irony of it is these craters that exist in our personalities are quite invisible to us. Perhaps we'd rather view our silvery luminescence from an earthy point of view, where the argent glow waxes and wanes--but always perfectly pleasing.

No. What we should do is do a Neil Armstrong and walk on the dusty, crack-filled, roc-strewn expanse and say to ourselves, "Okay, I didn't know it looked like this before!"

Yes, I admit I am naive when it comes to people. I held them in high regard and am always disappointed when they missed the mark. Pehaps this resentment is what stems from such delusions.

It is because of this--and for the sake of our long friendship--that I mistakenly invited YC out for tea. Yes, I do take tea. Or in tis case, coffee at tea-time. The four-and-half hours spent sent this thought screaming in my head: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!!???!!

Yes, it is painful to admit but our friendship is no longer what it was. Truth be told, I can't even call it a "friendship" without having a bitter taste in my mouth . . .

I've never pegged myself as a person who gives up easily
Seriously,
I can be quite tenacious and dogged in my pursuits.
Why I find myself surprised at my apathy
when it comes to cementing friendships

And nowhere did the sign point out to dissolution
Fractures. Downward spirals of loss and emptiness.
Nowhere did the sign point you out as a black mark
A scorch on my map I should avoid

Was the sign turned about?
Or was I reading from a rearview mirror?
or was I even on the right road?
Right map? Right car? Right place?

I twist and turn on an empty highway
making little plodding purrs in my mind
I curse and swerve to avoid the blocks
Walls you throw to impede my path

I'm handing in my keys
This car will never be mine
It was too costly and I yearn for an easy ride
I'm giving up.

It is a most interesting thing to note that people are mostly a product. A work of art that has been left too long on the artist's work table. Perhaps Vermeer, or Leonardo, or whichever of the great masters have decided to forgo a particularly frustrating piece that forever baffles them--its refusal to mould itself in accordance of their vision.

I note this because there are times I'm surrounded by rather noteworthy art-pieces. And all of them are disguised as people. People who take unto themselves some semblance or form relating to the masterpieces they parodied.

ONE: There is the inscrutable Mona Lisa, forever keeping us interested with her cryptic yet beguiling smile. Only for us to realise that the smile itself was the one attribute you could say was at all fascinating about her.

TWO: There is the Birth of Venus, with her false modesty--yet indecorously displaying a massive expanse of flesh begging for you to "Worship me! Worship me!" as she was majectically carried to the shore on top of a breaking surf whilst Pomona rushes to cover up in a flimsy linen shift.

It should be noted also that combining a sopping-wet woman with a loose-weave linen shift is just one step away from being labelled hoochie. But that's just me.

THREE: Then there is the courageous David. We shall not talk about his big hands and his predominantly displayed privates. I shall leave that for you gentle readers!

The David stands waiting. For the bus, perhaps? His perplexed/pissed-off look is certainlty reminiscent of those who are disappointments with the public transport's system. His arms are clenched. One at his side, the other brought up to his face as if he's about to chew on his knuckles. Hmm . . . knuckle biting, clenched fists, constipated look . . . sounds like David is just two shrink-trips away from the psych ward.

Ever seen Michael Douglas in Falling Down? He had that look, too.

The examples go on and on and on and on . . . ad infinitum, ad nauseaum.

It's interesting to also note that people as a whole would rather credit another for their own masterpieces. The statements and exclamations run the gamut from "The bus was late" to "She was a no good Chinese slattern!"

It was never the artist's fault, you see. The public was the one who was clamoring for tailor-made pieces of art. And then they get blamed for it.

I've always wanted to be special
I've always wanted to be etraordinary
I've always wanted more from life
I've always wanted things that can never be

I've wandered high and far
I've walked the entire continent
I've stormed countless keeps
And still I am never content

What is life without happiness?
What is life without pain
What is love without bitterness
What is it that I hope to gain?

I've wondered where we are now
"I here, You there" are the answers found
It was never enough, it would never suffice
That I am never safe and sound

What I wanted was a moonlit dream
What I got was a star-crossed fantasy
What I found was a grim fairy-tale
What I needed was to be less ordinary

Joy.
Pure joy.
I have at last realized the first few steps on a new career path. There is a nagging fear that I'll fail. But that's to be expected.

It's a new environment. A new place. A new adventure. As any D&D player worth his +5 vorpal sword would say: SHOW ME THE XP!!!!

But I digress . . .

Perhaps this is another place to build up new alliances . . . and in some cases shore up new ones. We would see if this place would be a place where my full potential are utilised . . .

Sometimes you just have to move off of your lazy ass and do something.

Yes, I am again ruminating about my life and just how paltry--just how meaningless--it has become. I would like to say that my self-imposed isolation is my preferred state of being but we all know that's not true. I am a social creature and thus needs society to nourish myself.

Okay, that sounded just a mite creepy. I come across as an emotional vampire or something close to it . . .

Lackaday. I gave found new ways to amuse myself. And it didn't amuse me at all. Not one bit, I tell you.

Taking stock of your life and deciding that you don't need certain people in your life can be humbling. Sad. Pitiful, even.

You go through life with a preconceived idea of the person that you are. Your values an your center. Then the people in your life--friends, families, etc.--did a 180 and shattered all your perceptions of them. And yourself.

You find yourself thinking What did I ever see in them? and then bolt for the hills screaming yuor lungs out. I have decided to move myself from such intolerable equation and just while my time watching them from afar.

Trust me, popcorn never tasted so delicious!

We all have demons.

We all have fears. Doubts. Bouts of irrational paranoia.

Moments of weakness.

I sometimes wonder whether--despite my ofttimes vaunted "I don't really care two whits about what people say" attitude--the things I do are the right ones for me. Whether they benefit me is of a certainty. But whether they help me grow as person is the question.

It rankles somehow that my certainties waver somewhat as I ponder this question.
Some may wonder that I think too much. I would say that that isn't true, but doing that would only invite the accusation that I'm a spoilt thoughtless brat. For the life of me, I don't know which is worse: being a selfish brat, or an indecisive twit.

I am left wondering why do some delight in attacking my principles, my values. I do realize that some aspects of my worldview tend to colour me as slightly naive, while others blotch me as an outright Machiavellean.

I have had accusations that I am:
-too trusting
-too suspicious (yes, apparently it is possible to straddle two vices from polar opposites and still function!)
-too needy
-too prim
-pushy
-vindictive
-a busybody
and the list goes on . . .

Why should I care what people think, anyway. The ironic twist is that these comments seem to stem from "friends" that took it upon themselves to give me a pep-talk. It doesn't matter that nobody died and elected them as Dr. Phil's replacement. It's the thought that counts, right?

So I listened and nodded like the fool that I am. Amazing, I find a MAJOR flaw in me. I tend to excuse people a LOT when they happen to fall in the "friends" category. I seemed to be the last one to get the memo because as I [just recently] came to this realization, a "friend" was on a roll of trying to psychoanalyze me. On the LRT, no less. In a loud voice, too.

Now, I'm not exactly a stranger to loud conversations on a crowded train. Heaven knows I've been party to several! So I just nodded and when I felt I couldn't take it anymore I hopped off at the next stop. It's either that or verbally bludgeon the jerk to bits.

The things I do for "friends."

So I bided my time, letting a moderately lengthy amount of time to pass before calling. Yes, those friend was wondering whether I stopped calling because I was hurt or affronted. I assured them that no, I'm not. I've just been "very busy."

Now, we all know that the term "very busy" is an insultingly poor substitute of an excuse. One makes time for what one wants or would like to do, after all.

I let our talks meander [within carefully chosen topics] and that's when I pounced. I turned the tables on them by doing the exact same thing they did to me. The methods differ from person to person, of course. To those who pride themselves on their ability to shoot from the hip (verbally, that is), I shoot right back--usually calling them on their attitude.

You wouldn't believe how some people love dishing it out but can't seem to handle a taste of their own medicine. Ironic, innit? They seem to come to this misguided consensus that I like to seeth and stew in my anger.

Honeys, I don't waste time on getting angry. I spend it on getting even.

Yes, I am vindictive. Too bad, so sad . . .

It was a beautiful morning. The crisp chill air has just enough bite to be fresh but not too much it daunts the hopeful traveller. I was about to be travelling. Come Monday, my dreary days might be over.

I just hope it didn't come too late.

Regrets and recriminations are not things that's new to me. Some I've participated in with great relish. Self-flagellation or inward masochism? I wish I could come with an answer to that . . . but I'm just me.

Maybe I'm tired of being on the outside, looking in with envy on those who have it better than I do. Maybe I'm tired of being at the mercy of my ambitions and passions. Maybe I should remake myself and start all over again.

I'm tired of not fitting in. I relaize my uniqueness, as are all those made in God's image. We are as what He sees us. The road we travel is design to test us. But the climb is long . . . and I tire at times.

Perhaps He gave me too much credit. Perhaps I couldn't give Him what He wants from me . . .

I found myself instilling advice and guiding lost souls these past few weeks. I'm not sure whether it's a wise thing to do. Giving aid sometimes tend to haunt you . . .

What was so amazing about my "good Samaritan" schtick was the fact that I'm doing it without any thought whatsoever for what I may gain. I know it probably marks me as quite the mercenary but it is the way of the world.

And I am as the world made me.

Okay, dramatics aside, I relished doing a good deed now and then. What was so amazing about it is I'm helping people I really do not care for.

Perhaps every tree on earth has withered and died as I'm typing this but to Hades with it . . . Maybe I'm mellowing. Maybe I've found the grace to move on and let things be. Maybe (just maybe) I've learned to forgive.

Maybe pigs can fly . . .    >snicker!<