Wednesday, December 30, 2009
surreal and real at the same time.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
the closeness of insanity
I haven't yammered in a while. I'm so emotionally unstable right now, so please just indulge me. It will be twisted, it will be long. I can't promise coherence. I can't promise being free of typographical and grammatical errors. But I will try.
I can feel this dark cloud of stress hovering above me. And that's while I'm tight-roping around my job and wedding planning. This evening, I tried to present a case to my parents about not inviting too many people (or the fact that we've already gone invitation-happy over the long weekend) that we are dangerously low on invitations. So the initially proposed list of 320 peole was more of the minimum. So we thought the 180 sets of invitations could cover it. Like I would know by some magical powers that we were going to send invites to people who were out of the country whom we knew wouldn't come anyway. So I wasn't really successful in presenting this case. Everything just broke down and I tried to keep my voice in check and the tears at bay. I really didn't need this after all the shit I go through at work. And that's with me doing the actual calligraphy on the invitations. And that's with my close friends sharing one measly invitation. I hate it. I hate how this has happened. I knew it. I should've shelled out more cash for like 500 sets of invitations. Goddammit.
I don't want a bridal shower. I have attended some in the past and never dreamed of having one for myself. I can get drunk. I can enjoy music. I don't need to play games. I don't fucking need lingerie or kinky gifts that will collect dust or waste space in a trash bin. I don't need to feel awkward with other people in the room. Namely relatives. Namely my mother. Like hello. Let's just go out and get drunk. Or drink coffee and have cake. Please. If I see a stripper I'm positively going to puke.
I really, really, really just SIMPLY want to get married.
I'm sure it will all go on. And it will all work out. BUT DO I REALLY NEED ALL THIS SHIT IN BETWEEN? Like, really. There's too much crap going on. I've got no assistant at work. I'm basically forgetting to do work because there's too much work. And of course everything's going to be my fault when it's not fucking done. Actually, I don't know if there even IS too much work. I'm too dazed and confused with all the to-do lists in my friggin head. Maybe I'm just imagining stuff. Maybe I'm just becoming delusional.
I'm on this stupid beach ban care of my mother. My skin is a darkened gray tan. It reeks of concrete and smog. I feel so dull and unglamorous. Everytime I walk on the parking lot I dream of real sunshine. With blue skies and a breeze that doesn't have essence of monoxide. The kind of sunshine that is golden, not reflected by chipped white paint and industrial glass. I do hope that on the wedding day, I miraculously develop some form of glow. WHATEVER. I just hope it happens.
Okay. Too long already. At the end of it all, I'm just wishing that all this shit disappears so we could GET ON WITH IT ALREADY.
Sometimes bored. Most of the time oddly alive. Phobic of butterflies. Creatively suppressed. Hungry for coffee and shoes. This is my subconscious talking... at times interrupted by my reality.
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chocolates & sapphires
uncontrollable writing urges
lost in the wilderness
chona in the city
what mama jojo says
a jayveebug's life
driver ng bayan
up dharma down
the patient mental
insane adventures of d
alamat ni kuya jeff
welcome to nio
ang juanang kapatid
anino ni abaniko
kapihan ni qroon naomi's leaf who is eyevan?
lessons of knoizki
marlon's twisted list
blog ni skittles
ideal pink rose thoughts & photographs soul^tude the gypsy cat south central jen yuri's flight manual arie's blog v for vina snippets of a wanderer lazarus' thoughts iskoo glances over the fencesitter billiedoux reviews the shoe blog
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea. Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis. But it's just the price to pay, Destiny is calling me. Open up my eager eyes 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside -- "Mr. Brightside" The Killers
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