Archive for January, 2014

the point of being obnoxious

Posted: January 22, 2014 in Uncategorized

My brother posted a haterade status update on Facebook. Basically, he’s hating on people who post about how happy they are about something or someone to the point of being obnoxious. Typical. Of course, I replied in defiance like the tool that I am – nothing gives me the giggles like annoying people I love, something’s really right with me that way – not cause I just really wanna annoy him but because I really don’t find anything wrong with people being so deliriously happy they need to announce it in any means possible. I like seeing updates like that. Yes, even those cheesy eye-rolling engagement/wedding/baby shower/bachelorette party types. Because I know how it feels to be that kind of happy. Those moments are rare. Very rare and even more so, fleeting. I know how it is to be so overwhelmed with good emotion that it just spills over everything and there’s no way to contain it. You either let it flow or you burst. But you burst, nonetheless. In magical fruit flavors… Honestly, I’d rather my newsfeed be filled with updates like that as opposed to having more reason to throw a big “F YOU” to the Universe. I like how they manage to transport me back to when I was that happy. I like how it fills me with hope that one day, I’ll be that happy to the point of being so goddamn obnoxious again. That’s what living is all about, right? Those moments… That’s what we should live for. I know that’s what I would wanna keep living for (I’m a fuckin romantic and I love it).

If you don’t like it, you can always exercise the right to hide or unfollow or unfriend. I doubt they’d take it against you if you do. I highly doubt they’d even notice. They’re too busy being happy.

Advertisements

On crying

Posted: January 17, 2014 in Uncategorized

Why do I always cry? No, cry won’t even cut it. I sob, bawl, those pathetic hiccup-inducing types of crying… And it’s okay if I had reason to actually shed that much emotion but honestly, I don’t. I bawl over scenes in movies that aren’t even supposed to be bawled over – the look on someone’s face, the touch of a hand on someone’s shoulder, a cinematic twinkle of an eye, a red dress… And don’t even ask me what happens during scenes which actually beg for tears. And the water works don’t even stop in movies. It goes on while reading, bumping into an old man on a wheelchair in the park, listening to music (holy shit that ALWAYS gets me), petting someone else’s beautiful dog, watching my niece’s videos on facebook… Fuck, I can go on and on, it makes me wonder if I even breathe as much as I cry. Why does it happen to me though? Why do my siblings/friends/people around me in general look at me weird or get pissed off at me when they see my mess of a face for the nth time in a day? Why don’t they feel it as much as I do? Why do I feel it as much as I do? If I were another person and I’d see me crying over something so trivial, I’d probably wanna high kick me in the face, too. They say crying is not a sign of weakness and actually a sign of strength. Fuckin bologna. I don’t feel any stronger when I cry. I literally break down inside and can’t contain the after shock… I get moved so easily I don’t know how my body manages to produce that much tears and still manage to do everything else. I don’t even drink that much water… (does that make me sound totally bimbo? I don’t care. I bet bimbos don’t cry. It’ll be great if my tears tasted like whiskey as consolation but no, same ol’ salty stuff). And it’s not like it’s involuntary… That’s the thing. It’s not. As if I need more reasons to be weirder than I already am.

(And the weirdest thing? I didn’t cry AT ALL when I quit my job. I actually laughed. WHAT IS RIGHT WITH ME??)

If only I could sell my tears, I’d have enough to end world hunger ten times over.

Eleanor & Park

Posted: January 15, 2014 in Uncategorized

Reading Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell. Not even halfway yet I know I’m enchanted. The way they talked about things that interest them, the way they argue, the way he saw her… It’s all so familiar. Change the names and it could easily be S & D. They raved about sci-fi, comics, music… Argued about everything else. It’s exactly how we were. Except we weren’t in high school when we first met. We were kids, yes. And I don’t know if I ever told him I always felt that I’ve known him that long. As if we literally grew up together. It’s as if I’ve been waiting my entire life to have these type of conversations with somebody other than my own imagination… It’s as if we were always meant to have these conversations but being born and raised on opposite sides of the planet made it impossible at that time and when we met, it’s like we have our entire lives to catch up. This is why I can never, hard as I try, completely burn this bridge. Unlike with any of the other guys that came and went, unlike those other two who I actually took seriously… They were never my imaginary childhood best friend come to life. And he is.

“They agreed about everything important and argued about everything else. And that was good, too, because whenever they argued, Eleanor could always crack Park up.”

But that’s over now. And I wish for his sake I’m wrong about all this. I wish there’s another version of me more suited for him. I wish I can wish the same for me but who am I kidding? Oh well. Better luck next life.