It’s funny I’ve asked this to myself while face down in the bed, chasing the ideas I want to blog.
Why do I blog?
Well, goddamn boredom–it’s the default excuse to almost everything done online! I was bored to death during my High School years; it seemed wise enough to get everything out of our Internet connection. It seemed hip and original to have a turf in the net back then. It seemed an underground activity, a stash for even the most eccentric thoughts. It seemed a teenage thing not to be held responsible with what you write, or generally, with what you do.
Well at least, that’s how it seemed to be.
Now, I don’t really know. I’ve been busted after High School. I’ve been ridiculed greatly by what and how I write.
I write about life. I write to commemorate life. I want to–fine, I want to remember the very purpose of my blogging. It might help me bring back myself on track, write as often and still as fluent. It might help me realize something. But honestly? I don’t really know why I keep on extending my domain for a year. Maybe it’s because it’s the only thing I own online; everything else have fallen apart, including my Tumblr. Maybe it’s due to some existential reason, but maybe these are all bluff. Maybe I’m just conjuring these things up for the sake of providing myself a reason.
Maybe all I ever wanted is the mushy answer: that I enjoy blogging so much I couldn’t help but revive this shit.
This entry was written by , posted on July 30, 2009 at 11:42 am, filed under Stress ball narratives. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
After having three laps with his bike, Gamini went home. He stands his bike against the wall and fishes his pocket for his key. He couldn’t find it. He took out his pockets. Still nowhere to be found. For the first time in his life he forgot bringing his key. This is preposterous, he mumbled.
He stands in front of the door, disappointed–no, frustrated. He stands there for three minutes, hoping that this is just some prank thing doors do. It’s the usual reason he states to himself when his laptop wouldn’t budge when turned on, when his microwave wouldn’t produce the humming sound (and the food doesn’t come out warm). It was–fine–absurd to assume that these gadgets and objects have moods too, but in times of desperation we always manage to create reasons for anything.
When he saw a red sports car through the slits of the wooden slabs of his gate, he suddenly thought his brother was in the house.
He decided to press the doorbell and for exactly twenty-nine seconds (counting seconds while waiting is his habit), a bearded man appeared.
“Can I help you?” He wears blue boxers and a t-shirt large enough for him.
He finds words to say, but the words become stranded in his throat. He seemed out of words. Who is this man living in his house?
This entry was written by , posted on July 24, 2009 at 5:32 pm, filed under Fiction. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
I have a flu today. I’m hoping it’s not from my two-day Cinemalaya marathon at CCP. I bet it’s from exhaustion. This isn’t AH1N1.
The fever started last Saturday night. It’s probably the cold weather which makes my temperature go up. My friend and I bought Paracetamols for it. My fever subsides for a couple of hours but it comes back. Sunday night, the fever vanished. This morning, I have a slight fever again plus colds and cough. This is bad.
I gulped down a Bioflu tablet this morning and so far, I’m feeling completely okay.
Whatever disease I’m having, I hope it wouldn’t let me absent myself from classes. Academics is king.
This entry was written by , posted on July 20, 2009 at 12:22 pm, filed under IRLs. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.