staying private

I just watched a documentary called We Live In Public. It was about a brilliantly crazy internet pioneer who tried to show the world its future. Through his crazy experiments, Josh Harris introduced the promise of immense virtual human connectivity through the internet, but bringing along its evil twin - extinction of privacy and losing in touch with the people who are. actually in your life. Josh Harris may have had unorthodox means, but his premise made great sense.

I have for example witnessed how we have bowed down to the internet and technology in general. We have become slaves and prisoners of war. Oh, wait. I digress. I meant to say that we have become slaves of technology. My friends and I would get together to binge drink and these are friends you've known since you were 5 years old and haven't seen for the last year or so because you've been to hell (aka college) and so of course you're pretty excited to hear about what has been happening with their lives during those times you weren't around and you keep on yapping and yipping and can't seem to keep your mouth shut because you've got too many questions - and of course, they're not paying you any attention because they're busy wearing away the epidermis on their thumbs on texting. I hate technology if only for ruining what could be a great get-together with my friends.

Okay, so I will talk to you tomorrow. I'm talking to this Canadian boy who wants to swap lives with me, so. I guess I'd better go and find out what he has to offer.

resurrection

Boy, it's been a while since I wrote anything here.

I'm afraid that in the past few months, I have dried up, turned into dust and has gone with the wind to the darkest, farthest corners of the Earth. To tell you the truth, I'm still looking for the rest of my body.

For the past few months I have been..

staring into blinding nothingness
listening to a dumbfounding silence
feeling a heartbreaking coldness

For the past few months I found myself taking a few steps to where drama kings and queens take their afternoon walks. I can't say I liked it.

I used to think that if I figured out why I was so detached, unsatisfied and to some degree, sad and regretful then I would be okay. I used to think that if I spent some time with the people that I enjoyed spending time with, then it would be like I was cutting up my sorrows into little pieces and throwing them out to the sea where they would end washed up at shore somewhere far enough not to mean anything anymore. I used to think that if I did not think about it, then I would forget that I was feeling unhappy.

But I have tried all those and none seemed to work.

So I guess, that's why I'm back to the drawing board.

Now come here and welcome me with a big, bone-breaking hug.

wasted

drinking is pretty much one of my all-time favorite pastimes.
but getting the hangover sure hell isn't.

got home drunk.

mom: (uy, yaadi nama in. good morning!)
there you are. good morning!
me: (hubog ak)
i'm drunk.
mom: (asya oo)
so you are.
adopted little sister (there's really no reason to think she's adopted but i like to think that she is sometimes): (naano an im pakauli?)
how did you manage to get home?
me: (nganak hubog ak. diri bulok)
i said i'm drunk. not stupid.

and i put an end to the conversation, hang on to the banisters for dear life while climbing the stairs to the room where i spent what seemed like a lifetime and a year sleeping and not daring myself to wake up. because waking up was painful. i opened my eyes and i felt pain. a splitting headache. the room spinning. and the alcohol i pleasantly consumed the night before threatening to high tide up my throat. so fuck you tequila. and you too vodka. and who would forget you, gin. it's hangovers like this that don't make me want to wake up another day. only i will be waking up tomorrow, because we have another session of drinking scheduled.

and as they say, history does repeat itself.