sms.last.night

'…pain is inevitable but sufferring is optional.'

uhmmmm… i think this is the reason the phrase " I don't have a choice" was coined.

i.just.realized…

…that the view is really different from the top of the hills

and from the bottom.
but the point of view doesn't really matter, it's one's interpretation that does.
and how one would apply that interpretation that would make all the difference. 

9.months’.lesson

Some people think sales is convincing people to do you a favor,
by making them believe they're the one benefitting from you.

But actually it's convincing yourself that you can do favors to people,
and benefitting from other people's belief in you.

still.in.lurrrve

                 a very thoughtful friend (after reading half of my logs) has asked if it is still possible for me to fall in love with other  errr… things( she knows any other guy is not an option). i knew she had my best interests at heart that i did not take offense but i was also aware how defensive my 'Of course!' has sounded. she knew then that she's driven her point home. point well taken. so maybe everytime i open my mouth i begin and end on the same note, or everytime i write, i open and close with the same story. those were mere manifestations of what i termed as my 'emotional preoccupation'. there are still those things that makes me throw a fit of giggle or makes my heart pump wild with excitement. 

              for one, i am a couch potato. though back in the studio i share with my sister i don't have a couch, i am practically glued to the screen at least a couple of hours after work before i am able to doze off. and four out   of the five workdays i pop CSI into that currently-most-abused-piece-of-home-tech- a.k.a. the dvd player. i don't think i would ever get tired of the stories this series has captured in their episodes, nor of the intricacy they've put into the details of the show, nor of the nauseous feeling evoked by creepy plots, tricky screenplay or at most times mere prosthetics. and hell no, i would never get tired of gary dourdan, HA! i lurrrve CSI.
        
                      

          the times when i'm unable to watch tv are spent flipping thru the pages of fave authors. i'm eclectic. the books i read range from classics to children's books to courtroom dramas to short reads.  i may allow a bit of noise when i'm watching tv, but not when i'm reading(except of course when i'm reading with someone-w/c is also fun her!her!). i have high regards for  authors. and i enjoy appreciating the stories they took time to narrate. i particularly incline towards those who possess a writing style that brings you into their own world and convinces you that it's way better than the one you've left behind. i've been trying to find a time to sit down and list my top faves but i haven't gotten to that yet.  i may sound weird but i just happen to respect the art of writing so much. with that aside, i am just like any other reader. i am not even the intellectual bookworm, i only try to be like that when i am in school, otherwise, i just read to be entertained. and since i love being entertained, i love reading, ergo, i love books.
                    
               
                the love to be entertained goes hand in hand with the love of films (who doesn't love 'em?!). with current faves such as 'Ghost Rider' and 'The Pursuit of Happiness', how can i complain? from this stems the love of artists featured in those films or of the story or of fame of the film itself that rakes in millions into the box office. but for me it's more of a  fascination of how it all comes to life. the work of hundreds maybe a thousand hands behind the camera that's been summed up into 60 mm. films also don't just live within the 90 or 120 minutes of it's length.a film continues to exist long after the last of the credits rolled. it lives thru the conversations it inspires, the trend it spuns, the unforgettable lines and the critics it attracts. a film can actually continue to roll playing thru the eyes of it's audience. again films i entertain myself with has a range as wide as my books. as long as it's able to reach out to me, i feel it. i love it.
                   
                  that's it. other things i have loved. still do and i'd forever will.
                  but really that's not all. when i'm not with CSI, with a book or watching a film, i'm either writing, completing my sketch folio, surfing, dancing alone in my bedroom or singing in the shower. i am just a girl, i can also be found primping in a salon, sweeping the clothes racks in malls, trying shoes after shoes or uhmmm…giving into an age-old bag addiction. or on weekends i'd be doing the thing i love most, hanging out with my kid. and the list goes on…
                   i am still in love if staying in love means i can still find reason to smile in things around me. i have just this tendency to wallow. what can i do? i am an emotional spendthrift. i can be brutally honest. even to myelf. over.and.over.
                  and the list goes on…then again, so does my life…      

and.then.again.

              i guess whoever said that to understand better one's gotta talk less and listen more has a point. a politically correct one at that. point aknowledged and that's exactly what i have been doing. i have not been totally out of the circuit, just trying to live by that argument. i have not been writing but i have been here, lurking. i never thought i had it in me, the potentials of a stalker, but merely reading and observing has its rewards.
              words have been pouring forth to be written but i had to retrain myself, i just sat there biting my tongue, to see to what ends this would bring me. and the few scars my teeth left on my palate has been worth it. i am now writing both because i believe the things i've seen are enough to give me a sense of balance-for now- and because i could not take it any longer. i guess the things that would be bursting from me from this point forward would not be in any particular way different, just a bit varied, with different facets that for  a while i have chosen to ignore. i am bit regretful that the one thing that has lent me temporary escape from life's insanity has been compromised to submit to my overwhleming emotions of the past year. i still cannot say this will not happen again. but the silence i've implemented on my pen has served as a conscious nag, not to let my letters delve alone into the darkened pit of a life that's quite been semi-charmed.
               i thought before that as long as i let my emotions flow through my hands and into this journal, i would be able to seep it out of my system until none remains for me to feel. again, i thought wrong.
               but i guess each one who writes go thru that irrational phase, when nothing else is worth discussing but the pain one is feeling, or am i guessing wrong here? a cuss and a diss here and there are not really that bad. but those days when one starts and ends each sentence with the same sentiment of hopelessness and anguish, is just…well, unwise. and yes, at some point in that phase, listening is better than talking, or in this case reading helps more than writing.
               i am not over the hopelessness yet. nor the anguish. but i would very much like to believe i am over that phase. i've missed this, and i would like to come back. so with my fingers crossed, i am  again…weaving words…careful NOT to start and end each sentence with the same sentiment of hopelessness and anguish.