Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Random Thoughts on Random Things

I’ve learned that human beings have around 60,000 thoughts a day. I can’t keep track of all the things I think of but here are just some.

I have just outwritten myself. I wrote more entries for the first trimester of this year than the whole of last year. Bravo for the constipated writer!

The month of May has begun. It’s the boys birthday month. Migs is turning 14 on the 5th while Nichi will be 13 on the 12th. I was turning 13 and 14, respectively, when they were born.

Twelve days from now, we would be electing twelve new senators and we will be filling out the vacant slots for the local government posts. God bless our ballots!

After having been forced to realize that I am once again an “ate,” well at least in the office—it’s not like my mom’s pregnant or anything—with the arrival of my new groupmate, I seem to think of being an “ate” as a curse. You can’t really screw up when someone looks up to you. And by virtue of that principle, I can’t involve myself into various types of scandals not that I’d like to be caught in one but, I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to shake my comfort zone sometimes.

Nichi has lost control over his upper left lip muscles. No one saw it coming. And it sucks! Couldn’t he be spared of any more suffering? If it isn’t obvious, the boy has had enough.

Since it is May, I will be a month away from turning 27. Shucks! And I haven’t done a lot to make my 27 years on earth worthwhile. It’s the loser complex talking.

My newly hired groupmate in the office is the younger sister of my friend, Jane, whom I haven’t seen since my high school graduation. Jane and I were classmates from grade seven to third year high school. Where we came from, four in a row is rare. So being in the same class for four consecutive years is somehow special. The thing is, Jane’s sister’s company brings back memories from my teenage era. One of which is the prank I pulled on Jane while we were inside the chapel. I wonder if she remembers. I wonder if she has forgiven me. I wonder if she’s having any back pains. For all its worth I’m so sorry for making the class laugh at Jane’s expense.

Maturing is relative, just as being responsible is. Some would say I’m doing well at both but some won’t even acknowledge me for trying. Oh well! You can’t win them all.

Change is constant, so they say. And so things will never stay the way they are. These thoughts bring a more comforting feeling than saying, “nothing will ever change so don’t worry.”

I don’t usually dance but if I hear the music, I just might get into the groove. The question is, who will dare to bring on the music?

You are not here. (No explanation needed.)

I hate it when I miss someone or something. It means I’m not happy with my present. It also means I am not seeing the someone I miss as often as I should. So when a berk told me via YM that she misses me, I told her, “Anong ‘miss u’? Magkikita tayo sa Sabado!” Unfortunately she missed that Saturday get-together. Crap!

Effort is really important to me. You don’t have to show up. You just have to exert effort to inform me that you are there, regardless of your presence.

PMS can absolutely drain my patience. It may explain why I have been exceptionally irritated over someone, to the point of her haunting my dreams and me bitching her around in the same dream.

The story Flowers for Algernon is an excellent metaphor for our forgetting what we were once good at in the past. Take SOHCAHTOA for example. It used to make perfect sense to me. Now I only know what those letters stand for. Same goes with learning a new language and not practicing it. After pouring in time and energy in learning the characters that comprise two sets of its alphabet, I only remember “Ima nan-ji desu ka?” and a few other sentences and phrases which cannot be used together to compose a decent Japanese paragraph.

I am seeing Waiting for Godot in a new light. Unfortunately, I am Gogo and Didi, not moving, anticipating Godot’s arrival. I don’t know Godot. And I am scared as hell what he's capable of doing when he comes.

A Greek guy once said that tragedies bring out the best in people while comedies bring out the worst. I don’t care much about what he said. I would rather that things don’t end up tragic.

Cutting strings is sometimes an unconscious act. Reconnecting ties requires a more conscious effort.

People trust people more than I thought. And I am a living witness of how many good people are amongst us, ordinary ones.

Thinking of the things I think about proves to be fun. I should do this more often.

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