Prudence I Write

I hope they are still in business because an irritating ghost named Stephen Bishop is pestering my abode.  I first heard the restless entity in the garden,moaning the words "and it’s telling me it might be you…all of my life."  I felt a shiver and, fearing that I might see the source of such unearthly sound, I hurried inside the house.  I thought it would be safer inside.  But, boy, was I wrong!  When I got inside, the moaning just got louder and I could almost feel the Thing on the walls.  I quickened my pace. Then I saw the Thing.  It was in its metal encasement, sitting on a black wooden box, apparently, its throne.  The place vibrates with the energy emanating from its
black box.  But my heart stopped when I saw its supplicant, sitting at the very foot of it, enraptured: it’s my dad!

"Daddy, kill the Thing!  It’s horrible!  Kill it!"

But he did not seem to hear me.  He continued sitting there, with a dreamy look on his face, and chanting…singing with Stephen Bishop.  I fled and sought the comfort of my computer.  I opened Realplayer and tried to drown out the moaning with Dream Theater’s exquisite and powerful guitars and bass.  An antidote, perhaps.  But can it lure my dad out of the clutches of Stephen Bishop?  Very unlikely.  My dad has been in his clutches far too long.  But not me.  So I’ll hold on to my Dream Theater. 

Anyone out there who knows how to exorcise the Thing out of my dad?  Please?  Anyone but Rod Stewart, please.

Note:  I’M SO TIRED WITH THE FEATURES OF FRIENDSTER BLOGS.  AND DISPLAY OF ALL MY POSTS ARE DELAYED.  PLEASE JUST SEE MY BLOGSPOT SITE:  altashhethslair.blogspot.com

I’ll be updating the blogspot site more often than the friendster site. 

Been a busy day for me.  Though I want to narrate the specifics here, I
just don’t think it’s possible.  I’m beginning to feel the exhaustion
from having done a round trip from Meycauayan to Caloocan to Sampaloc
to Makati and back again.  Sigh.  But at least I’ve been able to do
several things.  Haha.  I’m going to pat myself in the back later (and
I’d do that when I’m alone or else my parents would think I’ve gone
nutters already).  I’ll do my narration later today or tomorrow.  Will
slumber for a while.  Night-night.

I’m not really in a writing mood tonight.

All I want to do is cry.  I’m crying right now actually.

For
what reasons? I could name several…although most of you who’d read it
through will think it’s not much of a reason/reasons to even shed a
tear. Or maybe I’m just a drama queen at heart. I make a big deal out
of small things. Or that I’m a touchy-feel person.

#3  I can’t study.  I just can’t get my mind on it.  I want to write a story.  But I can’t make it materialize.

#2
His aunt told me during the first time (the only time, so far) we met
that she advised her nephew not to get involved in a romantic
relationship if he is planning to work abroad. She told me of stories
of couples breaking up when one, who’s abroad, meets somebody else and
that long-distance relationships don’t work. Why tell me that (As if I’m not going to the US myself…)? I’m not
her nephew’s girlfriend (though I wish I am). Maybe she did not really
mean to tell me that. Maybe she just came up with it, thinking of a
"good" story to chat about, considering we don’t really know each other
(We’ve just met, hello?!). Nevertheless, I still felt bad about it. Let
me rephrase that: I do feel bad about it. I do care for her nephew.
Very much. If I would be allowed to take care of him, I’d be more than
willing to do so.

#1 He’s hasn’t responded to any of my text
messages today. Is it just because he’s down in the dumps (which is an
understatement) or he just doesn’t want to talk to me? It just feels so
bad when I know he is in one of the most depressed moments in
his life and I can’t or don’t know how to bring some comfort to him. I
tried to be funny, gave some advice…but still he seemed so distant.
He just suddenly closed up. Or was he looking for some comfort from
someone else?

Shallow reasons?  Not for me.  I thrive on feelings.  No matter how much I tell myself not to be so emotional, it’s what I am.

I miss him.  I miss him so much.  But he doesn’t seem to care.

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I just can’t believe the nuisance value of this headache I’m having.
After 4 tablets of mefenamic acid and 6 doses of Nina songs, still, it
won’t go away.

First of all, after having watched PBB and downloaded my emails in my
computer, I decided to start up writing a short story I’ve been toying
with for a long while.  Annoyingly, though, I just can’t seem to make
it materialize.  I’ve been staring at a blank document for half an hour
and still I can’t make up my mind on how to start it.  Or rather, I
just can’t hear my inner self talking because of the constant throbbing
in my head.

Aaarrrgggh!

Then I remember something from a writing workshop I had when I was
still in DLSU.  I think my editor told me back then that, if I can’t
start the story right, then write about any dialogue or a part of the
story that comes to mind, regardless if I would want to put it in that
particular story.  Then, more often than not (based on her experience),
I will be able to trace the story back to its home door.

Well, I’ll just hope that I won’t get stuck in a junction somewhere.  I’m not good with street signs haha.

Aaarrrgggh!  Damn this headache…

Deciding to have a break from my neverending studies, I turned my attention to my newly downloaded ebook of the controversial "The Historian".  I’m not too sure, though, if it is really controversial in the sense that it evokes new debates regarding its topic: History of Dracula.  There are numerous theories/explanations/evidences regarding the history behind the real Dracula, Vlad III or or the Impaler that whenever I encounter one that is new to me, it doesn’t really surprise me anymore.  But rather, increases my interest in the subject.  If only I am a good as a historian as the one in the novel or a real scholar with a whole university library at my disposal (It’s one of my dreams, actually…to be a scholar.  I feel at home in an academic institution). 

And so I’ll devote a little of my break time to reading The Historian.  I’m rather intrigued with this recurrent phrase in the book, "Reader, unbury me with a…"

I dare not utter the last.

Narcissus, you still do play at me. 

I don’t know if the reason for scorning my love is just because of the current problem that you have.  It would be easy to understand if it were the one and only reason.  But if it weren’t, still I say…

I love.  I’m in love.  I still love.  You.

If the reason for scorning my love is you don’t think it’s time to give up the freedom you have grown accustomed to, still I say…

I love.  I’m in love.  I still love.  You.

If the reason for scorning my love is you care for that person who told you she loves you and showers you with gifts which I cannot give, still I say…

I love.  I’m in love.  I still love.  You.

Or if the reason for scorning my love is simply you do not desire me, still I say…

I love.  I’m in love.  I still love.  You.

I want to shout that to the whole world!  Do you know that when I am most afraid…when I am most troubled…I whisper your name in the dark and it brings to my whole being a lightness that could dissipate the darkness? 

You thought me how to believe again.

And now, all I wanted is to be by your side, now that you needed help the most…now that you have lost the power to believe. 

Do you know how much effort I have to exert just to hold back all the love I want to give you?  Do you know how much it pains me to see you in the midst of all your troubles?  From where I am now, I can feel your worries, sorrow, and distress.  And I so desire to that I could vanish them all with my embrace and my kisses.  But this I do not for fear that you should refuse me. 

You, who love his freedom, once told me that you have forgotten how it was to tend a relationship.  But fear it not, my Narcissus.  Let’s give chance to what could be a wonderful blessing for us.      

Narcissus, all I pray now is that may your sorrow soon pass away and that may you yield to my love I am ever so willing to give.

I tend to lose my sanity, every now and then.  And my worst fears take over me.  But a whisper of your name to the wind, to the darkness…you comfort me and bring my sanity back.

Believe, my Narcissus.  Don’t give up.

For countless days I’ve been checking out Mr. Ralph Fiennes (of course
that’s not his real name hahaha) friendster profile, just wanting to
find out when he has last logged on and why hasn’t he replied to my
message and the smiley I sent him.   But then just recently he
replied!  Just a short one though.  But I’m not expecting really a
letter because in my previous message I just asked how he was.  I’m
just expecting that he’ll reply to the message.  And now he did!  I’m
just so happy!!!!  I sort of kind of like him.  I don’t exactly know
why.  I just do

As
I tread downward the path, searching for a long-lost vision, this
little chain of simple words caught me right in the shinbone and I
stumbled headlong. Will this perhaps lure the slumbering tale out of
the idlescribe?

We will see. We will see.