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Francesca Garchitorena
My stupid fucking laptop started shitting on me last year and I've had the luxury of using my dad's this year. The password in my laptop is not working (yet I'm pretty sure I've encoded it right). I pray to God that it will still work since all my documents, videos, music and pictures are there! Life will go on without my laptop but it will never be the same. I'm too old for tantrum fits but I might give myself a cry if shit happens to my laptop.

Notes on my planner are as follows:

--> Still working in POWER MEMORY learning center (my own 'Happy Time' where I could actually do something productive. Everyday students are Iwata Shoya-kun and Hakiem Reposa. Sometimes Omi/ Marra/ Aron Sze and Mildred S.

--> Recently discovered that teaching can be enjoyable some days...but not all the time. Would still pursue the damn  thing because I do earn good cash from it. Perhaps I'm also starting to develop penchant towards my students...children in general too which can be deemed as an accomplishment for someone who is terrified of these mysterious small beings called 'children.'

--> Currently in a relationship with a guy who I consider a friend-first and a lover-second.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

--> Looking forward to being reunited with my best friend so we could plan her debut this coming month of March.

--> Finished Gossip Girl season 2 and was quite impressed with the plot and character developments. Chuck / Blair relationship is quite stellar and compelling. Yet to finish Lost (s3 and s4), Carnivale (s2), Nip/Tuck (s2-s6) and Medium (s4).

--> My brother will be living with us from now on since the caregiver eloped and now my sibling will be constantly monitored by my parents.

--> Current anime addictions are Vampire Knight and Black Butler.

--> Will be getting my transcripts Feb 2. Hopefully I'll get accepted in San Beda, Alabang.
Algebra can't kick me around the third time.

 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: recumbentrecumbent
Fruity Audio: "Mang Jose" by Parokya ni Edgar
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
12 January 2009 @ 06:55 pm
Well hello, social demise! To what do I owe the conceited lies?

But then again, things are starting to look up, work-wise. My dad and I had a heart-to-heart talk and I need to lessen the screw-ups and work for something larger than myself. So I am striving. I thrive for the clouds and I'm getting used to the work load. I'm starting to like the kids as well. I plan to devote my time working my ass for my mother's learning center. I've been earning good cash lately and I don't want to spoil it so I decided to sacrifice some creature comforts like blogging and writing literary fiction which would tear me into small pieces but I have to define my important goals that would help me grow as an individual. I'll dedicate the rest of the summer vacation (April and May) to fanfiction shit anyway so not all is lost. I'll be going back to college this June and it's yet to be decided if I'll major in Special Education or Language and Literature and I don't have a problem with either.

I'm also doing some self-study on Algebra since, if all of you were aware of my previous rants, it owned my ass twice and when I finally accumulated six failing marks, I dropped out last semester in my second year. But this time, I will not be defeated again! By now I should be sleeping.

 
 
Oh, great I'm in: my room of course
Fruity Mood Swing now is: crankycranky
Fruity Audio: "Ang Huling El Bimbo" by Eraserheads
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
I don't think I'm the only one who wants the wrong things sometimes. From what I vaguely understand, if you're honest enough with yourself, life gets to be kind enough and let you have what you want. And then it hits you all of a sudden; it's not what you want. When I write this, I'm not relating anything in particular but more of something general. I've had my few share of defeats especially when it comes to facing the reality that there is a better version of you out there if you only made the right choice at that critical moment. You carry that regret around you, wearing it as a costume everyday, a proof that says you weren't reprimanded for what you've done. You got away, safe and sound, but there's always going to be that elephant in the room. Mine keeps tagging along even when I don't want it to. It shares my food. It sleeps in my bed. When you try hard enough and ignore the signs, you get to see what you've become when you simply don't want to be something anymore. You can never fully delude yourself into thinking you deserve this because you saw it coming. You never do. They say it hurts most when you walk away from something you always wanted to have or you always wanted to be. I say it hurts more when you get something or become something you never wanted in the first place.

Merry Christmas.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: waiting for me to wake up
Fruity Mood Swing now is: disappointeddisappointed
Fruity Audio: "Breathe into me" by Red
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
Both my boyfriend and best friend left left to spend the Christmas holiday in foreign lands. He's going to the States while she's going to Singapore. I'm stuck with my unaccomplished goal and whiny ass. Which reminds me: I haven't gone to that appointment with the gynecologist yet; mainly because my father forgot about taking me with him when he left earlier this morning. So typical of everything in my life. I guess now I can finish season 2 of Lost and contemplate why the fuck those survivors still have trust issues when they could just chill and stop pointing fingers when something doesn't seem right. Well, it's not like it's easy keeping yourself sane when everything around you is just bullshit-crazy.

So three days before Christmas. My brother is in the hospital and I forgot to mention about this because I'm so consumed with the dread of the circumstances involving selfish old me. He has an abdominal cyst which renders the question Why can my little brother eat like a pig and don't look like one answered. He has this big, Cesarean-looking scar in his stomach which I think is cool. I also think he thinks it's cool because he has autism and from my experience growing up with him, everything and everyone for him don't matter seriously. I envy a lot of things about my brother when we were kids; he gets the toys, the attention, the forgiveness. But now that we're both becoming adults, I'm not so sure that fitting in his shoes would make me feel good either. He's now seventeen and he has the mentality of a ten-year old. Imagine how it would be like for us in the next six years. I'm going to get older, probably learn things that matter most..but at the same time we'll be both disabled in some way. I still can't travel by myself. I can't drive a car yet because I'm too lazy of an ass to try it to be fair, I also don't fucking know how to ride a bike.

It's always the simple things we regret. Me? I just don't cry anymore every time I think about my brother or every time we lock eyes.  It's not because I stopped caring. Quite the contrary, I care more than before. I see uncertainty that lies ahead. What I do know now for certain is that we'll be together until the end. And when I think about that, hold onto that unspoken promise, everything else melts into love and trust.
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: nostalgicnostalgic
Fruity Audio: "All you wanted" by Michelle Branch
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
21 December 2008 @ 09:52 pm
My menstrual cycle is fucked up. It's like, I'm having it for three days but they're all small drips of blood...not even enough flow to make use of my tampon. Perhaps because I'm sleep-deprived and I'm gaining more weight. It's not healthy anymore, I guess. I can't help it because I like enjoying my health before it decays by middle age which I know is bound to happen considering how reckless I am with it now.

So tomorrow I'm seeing a gynecologist. It'd be fun since it's my first time. I want to take measures on how to get the regular beat of my cycle back because I'm afraid there may be medical complications if I just drip and not flow. This is the second time in my cycle that this happened. It all started two months ago when I sleep by 7 AM and wake up at 6 PM. Like some insomnia junkie. I seriously need to consider health risks before I face terrible consequences in the future. And, uhm, I need to care. Like...really care. Because at this moment I don't and that sucks.

I had my first menstrual cycle when I was ten. Young age, you can tell. I don't get those PMS moods that the pop culture refers to as a comedic insult to moody females. I'm actually happier when it's my time of the month. There's something very sensual about having blood between your legs. It makes it slippery and sore. It's a good feeling so I like it. And right now, I'm not feeling the blood flow. So yeah, gynecologist visit indeed.

 
 
Oh, great I'm in: my room, my mess, my health
Fruity Mood Swing now is: ditzyditzy
Fruity Audio: "Blind" by Placebo
 
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
15 December 2008 @ 12:47 am
Lack of writing would be the death of me, I swear!

Well, what I mean to say is that I've been neglecting writing in Death Note fandom lately and instead, I find my creative powers focused on writing oneshots instead. I'm also into Vampire Knight, Prince of Tennis and Kuroshitsuji these days so my writing prowess is completely unsatisfactory as for the moment. It's not as if I don't enjoy my share of the work load when it comes to writing something decent...it just feels like, well, it seems to me that everybody else is doing a better fucking job at it which comes off as shit to me. I don't know why I'm being insecure again. Maybe because my love for Death Note (which still exists) has tamed itself for a while so I don't write about it too much. I know procrastination is the devil's idle but no writer should force himself or herself to write if the mood doesn't suit the task. But if I do pursue the profession, I must learn how to work without expecting inspiration to guide me.

Ah! The gentle irony! I think that not attending a college to harvest my abilities is starting to take a brutal toll on me. Not like I miss the goddamn stupid academic subjects. Not that I enjoy all the thrills of learning things that I don't have to. Not like I made stable friends either. But...the quality of time and habits back then: sleeping, writing, eating while attending classes that suit me...I missed those. Now my activities here in the comfort of my boring abode compose of eating non-stop, sleeping irregularly and watching TV shows that I own a DVD copy of. It's a very frustrating cycle. Working as a back-up teacher in the center doesn't help me improve my outlook either. Sure, I earn money...which I used to buy this cute black sweater. I'm actually not saving any money. Oh fuck me, I'll just keep to myself.

Nevertheless, if I think this is bad, just imagine the sweet choking sensation of Christmas Eve. Everyone is caroling from door-to-door every night and with all the spirit of the holiday, I would like to scream at the children:  "We don't pick money to give away, brats! We earn it so sorry for being a Grouch but you're not getting any from this house!" Very role model behavior, I tell you that. Maybe happy pills are in need.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: my room and my prison
Fruity Mood Swing now is: discontentdiscontent
Fruity Audio: "That's what you get" by Paramore
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
11 December 2008 @ 07:32 am
I'd probably be lying to myself if I don't admit that having someone special in your life, you know, the lover kind, makes you stop giving a damn what's beneath your feet. Well, it's a feeling that rocks! My boyfriend is also one of my closest guy friends and at first I thought it would be weird for us but it totally isn't...well, most of the time. We could hang out, talk about stuff, make out, and I the best part is I don't have to act girly around him at all since he pretty much gets my eccentric tendencies and odd habits. He's also very smart so we connect intellectually. I never realized that he meant a lot to me back in high school. Like most teenage girls at that significant area of their adolescence, I was in a fool's errand, chasing the boy of my dreams who will always remain in a pedestal. It's pretty amazing how you can mature and grow the fuck up. I'm eighteen and I'm still an asshole but I've learned to appreciate what I have than what I don't have. I stopped giving my heart to people who I knew will only rip it apart. I stopped being so pathetic about my insecurities. I can honestly say that I've built myself, stronger and wiser.

And it's good to be in love and committed, without leaving logic in the doorstep. I really can respect myself when it comes to relationships. I mean, I don't always get what I want from them but I maintain the right attitude especially if the person I'm having the relationship with is worth the trouble, not only romantic-wise. The only abusive trait I have is probably when I don't voice out my needs to the person because he/she wants something else and I want to be able to give that. I think I still have problems but perfection sucks ass anyway. I heard somebody say once that 'Intimacy is about receiving than giving' and that, my friends, resonates the truth.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: a loving place
Fruity Mood Swing now is: fullfull
Fruity Audio: "You Get Me" by Michelle Branch
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
04 December 2008 @ 08:14 pm
There's something absolute about the mundane. I find the most certain things in life are ignored. Everyday we always want to create excitement in our dull lives and to form brilliant ideas or to take up a hobby or sport. But it's not in these things that life becomes meaningful, I believe. The only things in life that are certain are the ordinary things like sleeping, waking up, breathing, eating...these things always happen to anybody, no matter what kind of lives they live, or if they're unloved or popular...or if they killed people; as long as the human body is the vessel, we all do these things involuntarily. Unless you're dead. But then dying is one of the mundane, certain things too. And all these ordinary things that bind everybody to anybody are ignored. Who would notice? It's nothing special, really, even taking a shit because we all do it.  We crave the eccentric, the exciting, the different. But then again if all things in the world are weird, perhaps the normal would look strange.

Maybe I'm thinking too much about this but I'm in a place lately that gives me a laconic feeling. I still work these days for my mom, teaching kids and the only thing I've learned so far is we're all bored. One experience just leaves us hungry for more excuses, more put-offs, more risks. We're always depressed, horny...whatever. I'm in love with a boy and he loves but even love is common. The only reason that it seems special and rare is because movies, celebrities and magazines are making a big deal out of it. Everywhere I go is a commonplace. Life as we know it doesn't entirely change since we were born.  There is God. There are the ironies and bargains along the way. There is life. I look forward to death only because I want to open another door and explore it. And it's not so bad either. I get to eat food everyday. I go to bed and I sleep.

Then I wake up. It's pretty normal but it's extraordinary as hell what I'm doing...LIVING.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: outside my walls, bare
Fruity Mood Swing now is: working
Fruity Audio: "Dirty Sunshine" by Lilix
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
28 November 2008 @ 08:12 pm
It was a lie that brought me to my knees one afternoon during lunch break from work.

I was unfazed by a variety of things ever since I committed a smart-ass choice of dropping out of college which is in itself inevitable considering how circumstances prevail. During the unfortunate status of my academic demise, I've been working as a back-up teacher in my mother's learning center located in Alabang. It should be the make-over of the year, in fact, but I find the speculation quite false. I haven't changed a damn thing. And I probably could stay juvenile forever but I choose not to this time because I can't move forward to the greatness I'm supposed to be a part of if I delude myself with unreal concepts about life and philosophy. There are things that are too painful to give perspective and embellishment does sustain the ego. But only for a little while. I am the most honest person you could ever meet when it comes to opinions and conversations. Admittedly, I suck at humility more than once but I also recognize the injustice in my part if I don't consider myself tender. See, underneath all the gruff is a sweet, compassionate girl.

So I was on my knees because of a lie. Well, it started when I'm beginning to grasp the full effect of my decisions. I will confront the inner demon because what are we if not shapes and dull colors that need to be intact or otherwise resemble something like one? I'm a creature of habit and I probably write this because it's three in the morning and I spare myself an hour to proclaim how I've never felt so right in both time and place. This is something I never thought would sink inside me until my very compound being feels like it's being eaten, devoured and defiled in the most sensual and spiritual way imagined.

A lie made me think twice before I act and well, I acted harshly, that's for sure. But while I'm on my knees, I see something impressionable and there is no specific term to name what I saw that afternoon. Maybe I was looking at my clearest reflection, illuminated by sincerity and grief or perhaps I was going mad and in the long run, I still managed to proudly say I kept my sanity. I did fall apart and there was no shame in that. I probably wouldn't have shared this if I wasn't so overwhelmed with this fascinating transformation.

So fuck it. If people fucking hang me for the brutality of my relentless lust for the immaculate, fuck it. Hope decays and generations disappear and while I'm still waiting for the earth to be sucked by a black hole, we shall contently relish on the fact that we're finally home to anywhere that keeps us strong and dangerous.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: a landscape of the mind
Fruity Mood Swing now is: okayokay
Fruity Audio: "Rolling Star" by Yui
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
14 November 2008 @ 08:09 pm
Work is quite well. Teaching third graders about Reading and Language is such a nostalgic experience. My salary is 150 pesos per hour. And I know I'm supposed to save this but then I see this bargain bookstore selling books for 99 pesos and it's a buy-one-take-one purchase so for one book I buy, I get a free one! The books are also great literature. I just want to collect more books!

I bought "Lambs of God" which is a story about three Agnes sisters who are far, far away from modern society so they're practically hermits and all they do is pray and sew sheep's wool while telling fairy tales. And then one day this priest, the Bishop's secretray, comes and tells them that the monastery they're living in will be purchased by some rich organization. The sisters, who already dedicated themselves to simplicity, refused and they captured the priest to teach thim how it's like do things 'the old Christian way." It's quite a good novel, it's both humorous and poignant. I've also enjoyed the circumstances involving their relationships. The priest, Father Ignatius, thought he was being tortured and humiliated by the sisters while the sisters think that they're helping him denounce his materialistic ways. At some point, the reader could agree to both beliefs. Father Ignatius is a priest of modern age so he drives a rental car, has a cellphone and other means and this is what the religious orders are allowed to have these days. But the sisters are living a life without any contact to the outside world and they just let nature have its way with them. The text, the way the sisters think, is very engrossing and absorbing. They made Father Ignatius realize this and while the story finally reaches an end, the reader appreciates the grave serenity and enriching aspects of religious life. It's two kinds of people of cloth that readers can relate to. I especially enjoy the knitting sessions and their storytelling and how they revised the endings to their own penchant. My favorite sister is Carla, who was a baby taken care of the Agnes sisters and even at middle age, she still posseses an innocent and joyous streak about her faith in Christ and everything around her. There's sexual tension between her and Ignatius but since they both uphold their virtue and celibacy, all that they have in the end is a strong, spiritual connection. I've finished it but I plan to read it again!

The free book I got is "Martin Sloane" that tells a story about a nineteen-year old college girl who fell in love with a famous fifty-four year old Canadian artist. She was both drawn to him and his art. I'm not finished yet but it's also very enchanting; the prose is swift and dialectic. I plan to finish it today at work.

Guess I do have a sickness for buying books like other girls have a sickness for buying shoes.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: at the learning center
Fruity Mood Swing now is: excitedexcited
Fruity Audio: "Enchanted" by Katy Rose
 
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
09 November 2008 @ 08:07 pm
Goddamn, I'm selling shit for keeps. I'll start work this Monday. I need the cash. Besides, there's still so much writing to do that dwelling on expensive and tiresome affairs like finding new friends is a risky bargain. One of these days I'm gonna have to get my transcripits so I could apply to some college and get my act together. I don't know what the hell I want from college except a diploma. I guess when you try to die so hard emotionally, you end up missing out on intimate things. I don't blame anybody for anything and I certainly uphold this sorrow as some kind of twisted sentimental cheer. I'm slacking off in fanfiction writing again because for some apparent reason beyond me, I don't get as much high as I used to back in the old days. Sure, fandoms are inviting and I still have ideas to put in the chapters of whatever story available to my reach but ironically, I try not to think about putting these ideas to use. I'm a glorified, second-rate writer. I'm giving too much shit about what I do. I need to fix stuff about my real life. Reality is mandatory and I don't comply to it. There's more to me than just a writer but this realization doesn't keep me from desiring something larger. It's a human craving that will be satisfied by destroying something in yourself and then create it once more.  It feels like all that I possess is all for rent and I don't own a damn thing.

Obviously, someone needs a friend to talk to but I'm running out of companions to confide with. Perhaps I'm a victim of my own doing, scared to move on, always learning things the hard way. And what the fuck is my deal anyway? Not like I suffered that much, I'm relatively lucky than others. So why the angst? Because of my teenage inclination towards it? There has to be a better reason for the mood swings.

Sure, I could drown this by writing...and alcohol. Very powerful combination.
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: soresore
Fruity Audio: "Flowers at my feet"
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
05 November 2008 @ 08:03 pm
People can surprise you. They rise above themselves. But some of them just sink further and further away from you...until one becomes an empty vessel of human dignity. I'm not being bitter enough about this. Perhaps because I see no reason to be. It's back to school for second semester for those who still managed to maintain good, acceptable grades last semester and one thing I know for a fact is that I'm not one those lucky bastards. However, I'm starting on a fresh slate, given that it's not a clean one; I still won't shit on it anymore. I can't afford fuck-ups and mishaps. Nothing interesting has happened. I'm trying to sleep before midnight (or at least not six in the morning and wake up by six in the evening.) I have sore throat. I've finished watching TV series like "Medical Investigation," "Dead Like Me" and "Californication." I'm reading novels again so I won't bore myself. And writing. Where would I be without it? Meanwhile I think about what I miss most and regret when I moved away from my dorm....and I do regret some things..like not buying the novels I'm supposed to buy. And food stores I haven't eaten in. And now I have to work and earn money, I wonder how I'll spend it...clothes? I don't have enough clothes...because I don't like wearing anything but black shirts and jeans. You never get your priorities straight but somehow you just got to keep things from biting you in the ass. Damage control. Best luck to me and my self-loathing, narcissistic teenage life. I'll be plagued with my own lethargy, I swear. Uninspiring actions can kill you. So create excitement, dammit, Coop! Really, goddammit! You're not even talking to your boyfriend and you've been together for a month now...but three weeks of that is complete physical absence. I'm never going to encourage myself to be more proactive about making myself happy. I seem to like the misery in every shit I encounter. I have a relatively, good life. Why am I being such a drama queen about this? Anyway, I'm good. Great. Whatever.

Gotta feed myself now. Folks tell me to watch my weight. Perhaps I should. Who wants to acquire diabetes? Admittedly, I have a morbid penchant for it but I don't want it to kill me slowly. I prefer to die by my own means, thank you very much.
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: hungryhungry
Fruity Audio: "You got game?" by Kimeru
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
24 October 2008 @ 08:00 pm
I'm going to work for my mother. I'm getting paid for it so I have to increase my level of tolerance. I never see myself as someone appropriate for a working environment. Perhaps because my arrogance outweighs my ability to learn something new. I also hate to be ordered around. But since I need the money and I don't want to piss mom off I might as well just comply. See, even how I talk about this breeds self-importance. I have to get myself some good attitude make-over because I need this. And I still have to go to college. Papi says we live in a society where we are judged by our credentials. And I believe the old man. I don't want to fall behind. I have to tell my best friend and I have to stay low with my newly-found romance. Lately all I could think about is how I could ever pull off a relationship. Of course, he's my friend for a long time, one of the best, most understanding pal I ever had. So it's a bit awkward to go romantic on him. It's hard to adjust the treatment and we can't see each other for now. My heart doesn't ache. I don't think obsessively about it like I would normally do. So...what does this mean? Am I in love or in love with the idea of us? Fuck, I dunno. I just moved in to my brother's room since it's bigger. I finally put the wall decorations from my old college dorm and transferred all my shit there and now I'm lethargic as a cucumber. Right now job comes first and then I need to practice some writing structures and techniques. Been reading dictionaries again. I'm also trying to answer correctly many crossword puzzles as I can. Everything I do now determines how far I will go to accomplish what I want to do for all my life and that is writing, no doubt about it.

AH! Just stuck inside the gloom. Everything is both sides of the coin. And I have to choose. Everything is a goddamn choice. And I can't screw up and not care. I have to fix this. I can't fall apart. Don't let your guard down. As long as I'm alive, I have to at least stop acting like I'm dead. I haven't been happy lately but that's only because I don't create excitement. I need to stop getting bored and not doing shit about it. I have to live...I have to LIVE!
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: My new room
Fruity Mood Swing now is: stressedstressed
Fruity Audio: "Georgia" by John Mayer
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
18 October 2008 @ 07:56 pm

“To remain as I am is impossible; I must die or be better”

-Abraham Lincoln-

 

...take in the breeze and build places to goCollapse )
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: back at home
Fruity Mood Swing now is: nostalgicnostalgic
Fruity Audio: "For Now" from Avenue Q
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
05 October 2008 @ 12:45 am
So I write. That makes me a writer. A damn good one so far but still lots of room for self-creation and improvement. And it's probably the best reason to live. I think my purpose is to write something that would mean to someone and to myself as well. I'm proofreading "Sherlock" Chronicles and Line Breaker. Then I'm pouring my heart out in fanfiction again since duties should not be neglected just to practice and keep my nerves in sync with my artistic temperament. There's so much work to be done as a novice in writing and if I want to be a professional, I should learn to work extra hours to hone my craft and avoid making excuses about lack of inspiration. For the first time I don't feel that "dread" anymore. Or death. For now. I must pursue and write and I must strive to get ahead.

College kicks me in the balls these days and I might just fail this semester due to Physics and yeah, a strike two failing mark in Algebra. Given the complete irony of my circumstances where my love life is in full-bloom but my academic goals are slipping, well, I don't know how to manage and cope excellently but I guess there's no more fear. I'm actually feeling like I'm not going to fall apart this time or anytime soon. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I'm gonna get through this crap.

Dosage of happy pills: None [seems like I don't need the meds to keep my mood in check]
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: in my room, watching "MONK"
Fruity Mood Swing now is: thirstythirsty
 
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
14 September 2008 @ 05:27 pm
 
Being a hell-bent mediocre trying to attain the greatness meant for me is nothing less than a rusty screw still trying to fit in a wood that was not made for it to fit into. Yet as bad shit goes, mine can be easily surmised as a way of losing and falling, things that a lot of us go through because getting whipped is how you get wiser, braver and stronger. As a person who gave her heart to many things, only to watch it being ripped in front of her, I ignored silver linings that pass my way, either because I was too self-loathing or too drunk to even tell, I wouldn't have a clue. I just know one thing and that is I have to stop reconciling things and just learn. Get all the facts straight and stop putting less value on the things I'm doing. I have an ability to become inaccessible to the world because I'm afraid, scared shitless, that I'm going to suck at being normal and happy. And because I think of it that way, I stopped to appreciate the worthwhile beauty of friends and fun, things I can have but refused to acknowledge the need. Because of what? Because my heart was pissed on, raped and aborted? Have I been that incompetent that my emotional starvation goes hungry for months now? I haven't been good to myself. I can honestly say I haven't been good to the people who love either.

I fuck around with pain. I fuck around with depression. But I'm no longer selling my sick poetry of loss. There's something worth loving in me and I can't still see that but I can get there. And once I do, I would write my way through purple prose if I have to; I'll write and write until I'm not afraid anymore for the world to read my story. And if not acceptance, then at least I can give myself substance and truth. Something better too. I can get there. If now I don't fully deserve the God-give talent of writing yet, then I will work hard for it because everything in life is an attainable challenge. I'm still scared, yes, still the rusty screw staring at the wood and wondering if I can drill into it but I would not drown in pointless pussy fear. Not this bitch. Not this time.

 
 
Oh, great I'm in: my dreams to pursue
Fruity Mood Swing now is: optimisticoptimistic
Fruity Audio: "A moment like this" by Kelly Clarkson
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
07 September 2008 @ 05:24 pm
There should be a reason for all of this. Lately I've been asking myself or rather yet, convincing myself, that there is still a reason for me to write. I feel no regret. I still uphold my convictions. I still want to be a famous writer someday. But I've been beating myself down with self-doubt. I know I want to do it but for what? Why? Once you chose to travel a path that really determines the ultimate goal in your life right now, it comes with a price and that price can't be spontaneously paid. You have to earn something you will fight till death to gain. I'm having trouble trying to stay sane and not compromise my own goals. I know we all need the direction to motivate us to go on but truth is, I'm afraid. I'm so scared of myself. I haven't been eagerly trying to connect with anyone anymore, as if each acquintance or relationship will be a failure. This kind of irrational fear causes stress and stress affects my study habits and my academic merits will fall short in no time. I don't want to disappoint the people around me but most of all I can't disappoint myself. I'm meant for greatness and although this may be a quixotic adolescent talking, I still know I want to get there. But the navigation is getting tricky and I'm not sure I want to condone to it anymore. I want to be part of a crowd sometimes because as much as I like being different, I keep forgetting how it is to love and be loved in a simultaneous gesture of both. I don't remember how that feels anymore. All this time I feel like a broken machine.


I never felt so emotionally scarred. This is worse than hitting rock bottom. This is not hitting that rock bottom at all. It's the insecurity of being inadequate. It's the lost triumph, the pending doom, the death trap. It's the meaningless of everything. I need to rise above this. But how? Am I still capable?

I really need some help here. Would you give a hand to this stranger?
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: my mess, my life
Fruity Mood Swing now is: scaredscared
Fruity Audio: "Mr. Curiosity" by Jason Mraz
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
06 August 2008 @ 12:37 pm
I'm not studying and giving my best this semester. My grades are hanging on a thread especially Algebra, my notorious consistent failure, and I cannot repeat the damn thing again. So I really need to straighten myself up and pull it together. School has been a bore ever since the beginning I lived on it. Of course the acquiantances made makes the experience bearable and there are subjects that I enjoy. However, I still feel like shit especially now. But I try not to fall apart. I practiced apathy. But I am scared to fail. I'm scared that this will hinder me and defeat me. And I can't let that happen.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: inside my head
Fruity Mood Swing now is: crappycrappy
Fruity Audio: "Hate (really don't like you)"
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
09 July 2008 @ 07:49 pm
I have a box full of love letters. I wrote them as early as ten years old and from then on the letters gradually range from the typical proclamation of love to bittersweet romantic fantasies. I wrote them to the celebrities I adore, the fictional characters from books and anime. I poured myself in those letters, to strangers I will never meet, to men who are not real. I gave them my heart and expect them to take care of it; after all they don't exist but only in my mind and wishful thinking. I write to them and they respond back to my own accord. Sometimes I end up believing what is written in the letters that what the reality implies to be a lie.

I write love letters to no one. I lie on my bed with a pen and paper and confess love to somebody who doesn't know me and whom I don't know. I write my sexual desires about a character in a small notebook, recording every detail and picturing that somehow in my wildest dreams they could happen. I keep all of this literature inside a box, every fragment of idea and every idea that ceases to come alive. They were buried among the piles of letters to crushes in high school, letters I kept and never gave. I would write more if I have to, until I'm old enough to go back and read them one by one. Maybe, just maybe, I could find someone to show it to them, share that area in my life that I can't even offer to God.

Here is a tragedy, I'll tell the person, that a girl kept for so long that it compensated for her emotional shortcomings. Here is a story behind a story behind a story. You will be reading words and will be looking at a person. This person has a tragedy. Just like you, perhaps. And you may like it. And you may not.

Here, choose a letter from the box and read.
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: enthralledenthralled
Fruity Audio: "You look so fine" by Garbage
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
29 June 2008 @ 02:29 pm
Dearest Rhodora,

I haven't told you how much I love you lately. I haven't been the most honest person in our relationship but I try to make compromises just so I can keep you. I deserve less because I wasn't really the kind of friend who tells you everything. You and I live our worlds by now and sometimes it kills me that we have to grow apart. Sometimes I wish I can drop everything and be with you again, see you smile at the silly things I do and hear you laugh at my jokes. I wanted it all back especially now that I feel like there is no way I can connect with another person like I have once with you. I wanted to tell you about college and how inconspicuous I feel like when it comes to forming new friendships. I wanted to tell you about Mea, Krisha, Vera and Kate and how things went badly and sour among us. I wanted to introduce you to Jerene and Marsha whom I adore and try so hard to keep. It has been an empty, inactive life without you. I wasn't in the best shape and I was barely happy. You keep me motivated and you keep the worst days all right. Just like we were in high school.

I can't help but wonder if we still are the same friends; if we still have the same intimacy we used to have. I can't help but dread that maybe we have been so busy and so caught up with our lives that we forgot to have the world to ourselves. We used to have it. I've been wanting you more and more and committing myself to you for four years in high school was the best choice made in my part. It was a messy, whimsical and painful process but we weathered it and we arrived strong in the end. I just wish that there is a way to bring myself back to you, especially now that you needed me. And I needed you. Have we still got it? Am I still your railing and are you still my cane? Can we still lean on each other?

We survived the way people put us in a pedestal and all the pressures of this expectation. We survived our individual struggles so we could meet halfway. I learned to love unconditionally with you. I learned that opening up and being in a vulnerable state to someone worthy is the most beautiful thing. I love you and if we will never see each other again and we could never be the same people as we are, I wish we could rise above that and become better. I will never give up on us.
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: pensivepensive
Fruity Audio: "Strange and Beautiful"
 
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
23 June 2008 @ 08:25 pm
It must be that fate is cruel because just recently that I have posted in my entry two days ago that I want to observe precaution when it comes to my roommates' feelings that I screwed up such vow just yesterday. I must have mistook the plain lack of malice in my careless action  when I have aggravated Jerene. I accidentally spoiled her about Stephanie Meyer's "Eclipse" and she was really pissed off about it because I gave away the ending and she just bought the book. Now she blames me that she lost the energy to read it. I told her that if this is one of those juvenile fights then she must cut me out because I refuse to participate. This all happened in text messaging. I apologized but that's not enough, is it?

And the stupid goddamn storm made me unable to go back to my dorm and fix things with her. I feel bad for being ill-mannered and reckless and I can say that I actually forgot to breathe when all of this felt so nostalgic. Why is it so easy for me to be hated? Can a person like me be normal for once just for the sake of keeping the ones I care about safe when around me?

I plan to write it all down on the story I'm working on entitled "Sherlock" Chronicles. I'm in Chapter six and for the past few months, this story was cathartic to my frustrations and destroyed relationships. It's that hard to stay friends with me. I don't self-pity but the blame is mine and I like to be responsible of my actions. Although I rarely swallow my pride, this time I will. Because I found a friend and I don't want to lose that. So tomorrow when I go back to the dorm, after I laid down the rags for the bathroom that three of us share, I'm gonna hug Jerene. Very tight. I'd say nothing. I just need to keep this kind of friendship, just once.

I needed it.
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: embarrassedembarrassed
Fruity Audio: "Set the fire to the third bar" by Snow Patrol
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
21 June 2008 @ 10:29 pm
It's funny how the smallest things remind you that you've been blissfully out of your mind due to so much joy. I experience that kind of mirth whenever I'm with Rhodora. During high school, I remember the way we clasp at each other's hands like it's the most natural instinct in the world. I recall how we would walk side by side and hold hands, our fingers interlacing. Whenever I walk ahead and she's behind, I instantly reach out to seek her hand and she gives it to me. She will do the same thing when I'm left behind; even while walking ahead she would have her hand on my direction and I will touch it like it's mundane and it truly was for a long time. Our hands just have to be held by one another. Looking back, I realized it was beautiful and poetic and I would give the world just to have that back.

I have new roommates, Jerene and Marsha, and we're getting along...for now. I sincerely hope it will stay that way. It's hard to sustain friendships since it's hard being friends with me. I admitted it to Marsha one time and she said she won't hate me. I made her promise it. I promise not to both directly and indirectly annoy, terrorize or creep her out. Same thing goes for Jerene. I have so much in common with the two girls: music, movies, TV shows and books. They listen to my opinions and admire my strengths. They tolerate my wicked sense of humor. They like me so far. It feels good to be appreciated again, to remain pale and not so loud sometimes. I can honestly say that they're the ones I want to keep. I wish I can. I don't want to make the same mistake I did last time. I want to try again.

Human contact is fragile and insecure. I have to learn a way to keep it. Otherwise it's my loss, right?
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: enduring my impulses
Fruity Mood Swing now is: scaredscared
Fruity Audio: "The Remedy" by Jason Mraz
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
12 June 2008 @ 11:02 pm
Second year college! I'm officially enrolled to Literature and Literacy and I'm going to prove myself that I deserve this chance. So far I'm gaining the right ground and the motivation. And so many kinds of block sections I meet! They're interesting people. And I think this time I might just enjoy myself. Brooding can be so lame sometimes. So here's to me! I'm gonna conquer the world, I can feel it!
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: ecstaticecstatic
Fruity Audio: "On a High" by Duncan Sheik
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
Apparently the world is cruel. But unfortunately, not cruel enough. Take a slide to the rampage of a pissy teenager who forgot her happy pills. I'm talking about  me and my prolonged adolescent crap. We're still going through it. I know I'm having a helluva good time just cruising the lane of self-loathing. Do I like being far from well-adjusted? Maybe. Do I like not giving a crap? Maybe. Do I enjoy the pleasures of the misery business? Perhaps I do. Regardless of the sustained capacity to endure stupidity, pain and recklessness, I remain forever bitter and happy about it. Then again, the simple paradox is just going to annoy you. It annoys me.

So what is the fantasy roleplay, hmmm? Getting handcuffed to the fridge and all you can do is eat? I like some of that, really. Getting strapped on a mechanical bull and like most vibrating appliances, it allows the genitalia to enjoy the ride? Not bad. Or the relief in causing bodily harm in oneself because you just have to? Well, I had my shares of both gluttony and lust, all of which are untimely; all of which left more holes and appetites to fulfill.

So if we are all predisposed to negligence and heartache, then what else is left to beat ourselves up besides the fact that being human and flawless is such an achievement? Death? More sex? More vices?

Right. And I'm supposed to give a crap.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: everywhere
Fruity Mood Swing now is: fullfull
Fruity Audio: "No such thing" by John Mayer
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
16 May 2008 @ 05:42 pm
Rhodora told me once that one of the reasons she wanted to be a plastic surgeon is because of me. She knew about my mutilation habits and how my parents pressure me not to get overweight because I might acquire diabetes. There was a time I was unhappy about my body but all teenage girls undergo that crap. Rhodora developed bulimia and now she wanted to help other girls to feel good about themselves even if only through physical means. She believes self-worth can also be found in good body image. I think the show Nip/Tuck inspired her with this conception. She saw an episode there about an obese girl who killed herself because she doesn't feel she will ever be loved. She said she didn't want me to end up that way. I know it sounds a little too extreme but she knew about my suicidal tendencies from before. I'm not well-adjusted up to this day but I learned self-control. I learned that there's a lot more to me that body weight.

My father said I'm still acting like a child. This is the same man who I respect and look up to and now he claims he spoiled me so I never really learned how to strive for anything in my life. I don't even know how to use public transportation. I can't understand why I've become this bitter disappointment. My parents don't think I need a shrink. I don't think I need to keep going either but here I am, alive. I guess some necessary things are neglected just because they seem meaningless lately. Like my life. But once school years starts, I'll get by again. My aunt will live with me for strict supervision. She's almost graduating and getting her masters for psychology. I needed to be reborn again into something specifically not annoying or irritable, something particularly normal and makes the people she loves happy.

A frozen death in the snow. I like to die that way. I've been contemplating taking pills when I'm 60 since OD can be an easier way to go. But I gotta stop thinking about dying too. I need to live. For my brother. For my ambition. For...the sake of doing so.

My best friend Rhodora and my father. They want to fix me. Especially my best friend. Now she's nowhere for me to see or talk to. I wonder if she still wants me after now that my pieces are too sharp to put back together.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: in something black
Fruity Mood Swing now is: devious
Fruity Audio: "One minute" by Kelly Clarkson
 
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
30 April 2008 @ 10:06 pm
Probably the best thing that happened to my morbid life is Rhodora.

She knows that and she didn't attend my birthday. How can celebrating another year of existence be better without your best friend to hold your hand? I say, it fucking stinks not to have her on a special day like that. Days tend to be stupid and even meaningless and as a person who grew more resentful on mundane tasks, I find her company a solution to make everything bearable and even full of hope. I wasted time on idiotic melodrama, that I'm too aware of. Lacking the very dream of being loved back for who I am doesn't even make the situation a tad more appropriate to entertain slow decay of the heart. I needed her some days. Some days I just wanna ride her hard and see if she will cut me loose. I know what I've become. I've become detached to people. I've become the very thing I loathe. I can cut off people and dismiss them emotionally. I'm getting better at it.

But one thing I would never want to give up: her. My best friend Rhodora. The one person who didn't care that I was an oddball, who didn't care if I hit her with scarring words, who didn't care that my mess became her mess. She's the person to blame, to blame for being human while the rest of me is dying inside without any more of those regrets. I realized that life was better when I have her to make me believe that a person as crucially irregular as me can be affirmed, can be seen as great company, can be loved...

So she wasn't around on my birthday due to some errand. I wasn't in her birthday last March either. The pending doom is getting clearer. Will I finally lose her?
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: in the arms of nobody
Fruity Mood Swing now is: apatheticapathetic
Fruity Audio: "A bitter song"
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
08 April 2008 @ 09:55 pm
You give yourself endlessly to specific things. Mine is writing. My unbridled passion for it is a proclivity I never felt ashamed about but tortured so because I feel the ironic grief of having it engulfing me. I think there is a bottomless display for normalcy in my part and I risk getting bruised all the time. I admit it now. I miss myself when I laugh or even let a slight physical contact from an acquaintance. I miss myself in navigation to go around social graces and most of all I miss myself without the reluctance to connect with someone because I have promised to gather every ounce of confidence to love someone again. But I have not. I'm not obligated to feel the things I should feel for people. I do know what I want. I want death. Death that has no strings attached, the package that could evoke the perfect release for incapacitating urges that are darker than myself. 

Death is a fantasy. I wish to introduce myself to it once I'm old. I need to die by sixty.

This vacation should be promising. Opportunity to write fresh material for Death Note fandom is called for. I have to perfect my craft again. More reason not to sulk and sleep all the time in bed because I hate to deny that I seek a little therapy. My parents will provide it. They already allowed me to shift from Special Education to Language and Literature. I need to invent and recreate myself again now that I'm entering a new colony of people in school. I will miss 103A. They've invaded my corners more than once than I permitted them to but it can be gratifying. I lie though. I'm great with hypocrisy. A storyteller, I call myself admittedly so.

I haven't lost the game yet. I'm still playing it and hopefully aim for the win.  

  
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: curiouscurious
Fruity Audio: "Chameleon Boy" by Blue October
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
03 April 2008 @ 10:37 am
 
I’m tired...but actually more lucid than ever.
 
I used my fantasies as excuses for living reality. Reality frightens me because I believed for a long time that it may just exhaust my creative spirits and artistic temperament but who am I kidding? I’m a big joke. I’ve been dysfunctional my whole life and claimed to have died emotionally but here I am, alive and breathing so why can’t I have the power to take over my life? I’ve reached the rock bottom many times now and just when I thought I have immersed myself to a better person, possibly a more enriched individual, I start to lose the battle I haven’t even fought for. This isn’t how my life should go. I should be able to know my direction. I should be able to be happy. I know I’m destined for greatness. I look in the mirror and my ugliness that repels my worth suddenly becomes the fundamental meaning of my goals. I’m meant to make a difference. I’m extraordinary.
 
And I will be happy someday.
 
I’ve already thought of my legacy. I’ve already thought about the ways I want to be remembered for. I want my writing to be read and displayed. I want my words to mean something to a civilization. I want to go down in history and be immortalized with what I have shared as a literary advocate.
 
This would make me happy. 
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: complacentcomplacent
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
29 March 2008 @ 01:23 am
 I quit college.

Well, not completely. Tonight I decided to confess to my parents that maybe school isn't right for me and I want to dwell on pursuing my passion in writing. It would be difficult, I have no doubt. I'm only turning eighteen this April and I have loads of work to accomplish if I want to be published and taken seriously as a budding talent. We agreed to get me into a creative writing workshop and I'm still hunting for it. I need to focus my energies on not fucking this opportunity up. It's a clean-cut negotiation. I have a year to prove I can do better as a writer and not some normal student in a comformed school of regular beats. I want to strive because I know my ideas are worth listening to. I'll prevail, I'll endure even in defeat. Of course, first things first: I need that workshop. I contacted several classmates in friendster, hoping they might help me establish that solid ground for learning. I refuse to be dominated by fear but fear keeps me alive and alert. Certain lengths should be taken in assertion.  

It saddens me that I put my parents through my whimsical greed. But I want to be happy. By the way things are going lately, I face the reality that I've been losing myself through the process of trying to fit in. I want to grow, to immerse myself to the person I want to become from the person I know I would become if one fatal mistake would allow it. There is joy and grief in this choice. I must learn the consequences if I fail but I won't have to fail. I must do it. I can do it.

So here I am. College dropout for this year. Full of promises. Full of compromises and dreams.  Aspiring. Wanted to change the world with my thinking. Wanted to be immortalized through writing. 
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: thankfulthankful
Fruity Audio: "Halo" by Bethany Joy Lenz
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
14 March 2008 @ 03:22 pm
Here is another piece of writing. It's brilliant, I think and the ideas just flowed restlessly one night that I have all obligation to articulate them in order to give justice to their substance. I wrote this because I felt a sensation take over me and I need to share it once again.

We should be bigger than ourselves by nowCollapse )
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: in constant literary power
Fruity Mood Swing now is: refreshedrefreshed
Fruity Audio: "Snowflake" by Katy Rose
 
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
13 March 2008 @ 02:56 pm

I wasn't able to control it any longer.

I stepped into my room, dropped my things and hit the bed. I cried harder than I ever thought possible. The tears weren't all salty but they did feel acidic, as if my eyes were burning. I was so happy. Overjoyed, even. But there was also something else.

Today I saw myself standing in a false corner, telling myself I live for my own glory. Then my classmates and I won the competition for the Theology project. I wasted so many sleepless nights to work on the backdrop art for that presentation. I wasted time painting with the others, laughing with them and actually enjoying what they have to offer me. Then we won. It wasn't the victory that drove me to tears. I thanked God. I thanked him profusely that my nerve endings on every part of my body quiver with passionate gratitude. I cried not because of that contest. I cried because I was recognized for something greater than my abilities. When the class director Darren announced publicly how they're all in debt for the backdrop I made, I was moved. Somehow I felt as though I wasn't so much in solitary as I thought I was. I thought about my roommates; Mea, Sha, Kate and Vera as the tears kept coming. I laid shaking in the bed, emotions taking hold of me completely for the first time in years.

I was so overjoyed. I thanked God that he hasn't abandon me. He was all too generous. He was all too good. I was nothing more than a fool to think my life is tearing itself a part with every cold shoulder I give to the next person around me, with every nocturnal fantasy I use to comfort myself, with every lie and twisted game I play with those who want to get to close to me. Somewhat vain, somewhat immature. But all this time, I have Him. I have a friend. I was in need of shelter from my own self-destruction and I was provided with one.

I wasn't really alone. And the tears testifed to my surrender. It wasn't trickery at all or blind faith. He cares about me. He really is here now.

"You loved me when I was so unlovely.
You sought me when I was lost.
You showed me how much You really loved me
When You bought me at the higest cost.
Everything I need is You,
My beginning, my forever.
Everything I need is You..."

 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: lovedloved
Fruity Audio: "No greater Love"
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
10 March 2008 @ 02:49 pm
Have you ever met a storyteller? I have. I share the same bed with her. I share the same table when we celebrate our unity through food and drinks. You might have passed her once or twice and she spoke to you with language clear and convincing and then you walk away, wishing you'd meet another one like her again. There are many storytellers in the world. Check out the mirror and you might find one there too. The storyteller is a perfectionist in the craft and art of lying. Deception is what holds her integrity and greatness together. A storyteller knows how to manipulate and control others. She makes you believe things which are partially true. Her stories are composed of many epitomes and epiphanies.

In common lay-terms, we call her HYPOCRITE. Oh, but she's the good kind. She's not the type to hurt anybody. Her intentions are simply imagination-inclined that she rues the world of logic and standard concepts.

And when you do meet her, you believe her because no one has yet deciphered her lies unless you're a storyteller yourself.

Have you ever met a storyteller? Does she appear when you look now in the mirror, love?
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: in public shame
Fruity Mood Swing now is: thirstythirsty
Fruity Audio: "A Little Priest" from Sweeney Todd Musicals
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
03 March 2008 @ 03:11 pm
I missed my best friend's birthday last March 2, Sunday. All because of a stupid cheerleading tournament I have to attend to. Don't get me wrong, seeing girls in short skirts got me in the mood but still...my darling, sweet dove is lonely without me on her birthday. I also stayed in the dorm and never went home for the weekends.

On other news, another girl I like in class is also a mother. She managed to keep that secret of hers from us for a long time until finally, she revealed it this recollection meeting. It didn't keep me up all night anymore but I get the feeling that sex might be a dangerous uncharted territory if your get sloppy and dumb. Not that those two girls did...well perhaps they were sloppy and dumb, who knows? No one should blame young mothers. We give them the benefit of the doubt. Still, a shame...we should be in sole search not carrying a child that will hinder our selfish goals. I'm a egocentric person. I come first before anybody else.

And...I might just fail Chemistry. I seriously have to schedule another meeting with the guidance to talk about my plans as an irregular student. Then my ex-rummies and I are still ignoring each other. Except Mea. I'm cool with her in class. She was great in the oral defense for ComArts. It will be my turn and my partner's turn this coming Tuesday next week. I wish I was done earlier since I might just not be in a good mood when it's my turn. Still, we're talking about Autism and Biomedicine cure here so...it'd be great.

My burn wounds are itchy. They're healing pretty nicely though. I like scratching and admiring them when I'm bored or something like that.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: in the dorm of hell
Fruity Mood Swing now is: discontentdiscontent
Fruity Audio: "No place like London" from the Sweeney Todd Musicals
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
24 February 2008 @ 04:28 pm

I burned my wrist today using a cigarette. I don't know why I did it but let's say it's a whim and I was in a mood to feel corporal pain again. My brother had burned my leg using an iron once and now years after I burned my wrist and it felt kind of nostalgic. My parents were pissed but they have to get used to the fact I'm odd. My classmates were even more baffled. I guess I have now a high threshold for pain (in many varying contexts.) The week has been very fast and I don't even write stories anymore. I just eat. I eat a lot more and I'm gaining some more. All I do in the dorm is sleep or eat. To keep my mind preoccupied, I just decided to do things out of boredom, hence the cigarette burns. Without being able to write my angst I become nothing but a placid bowl of shallowness and regret. It's not the most commendable lifestyle but it's what I chose. I did made a new fanfiction account under a different writing persona and it's strictly for Saiyuki content.

Speaking of the said anime, I've been hornier with Sanzo and I kept this little pocket-size diary to record my sexual appetite. And, yeah, one of the girls I like is pregnant. It kept me up all night (well, I have other things in mind too because it's been a busy week and I guess it does help when school work traps you in a core.) I've been selfish not to realize that sex can have consequences. I don't want a child. I do want sex. And to achieve a pregnant-worryfree sex I need to assert my own decisions. I want to be infertile. Some women want a family. I don't.

I'm in a strict Classical music diet. I almost forgot my CD collection of classical hits and now I found it. They're twelve of them, ranging from violin, cello, piano, flute, oboe, etc. I pretty much get more in tuned with my own selfish island when I listen to them and now I'm downloading other classical themes from Limewire. I guess listening to contemporary crap has finally took a toll on me. I'm not saying I don't like my Eminem, Linkin Park, Green Day and Avril. I just wanna hear instrumental old sounds right now.

Life in earth is borrowed. Being able to face that cruel realization of mortality made everything seem so useless.

Here are the pictures of my burns. They're almost healed now. Did them last Wednesday. Shaped like a crucifix.

Coping MechanismsCollapse )

 

 
 
Oh, great I'm in: backwards
Fruity Mood Swing now is: rushedrushed
Fruity Audio: "Schindler's List" Theme
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
21 February 2008 @ 02:36 pm
I finally finished this short piece about my ex-roomates. And in ode to their departure, I painted a fridge covered in blood with a sign that says "Welcome to my cold surfaces." Here is the essay and the pictures to go along with it. 

A room has fitted in a fridgeCollapse )
Welcome to my cold surfacesCollapse )
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: in a world I conjured
Fruity Mood Swing now is: drunkdrunk
Fruity Audio: "I hate myself for losing you" by Kelly Clarkson
 
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
19 February 2008 @ 07:46 pm

I've seen better days. Truly did.

The last two weeks were atrocious. There are many things to accomplish and my academic purpose is declining. I'm gaining weight and I don't bother controlling my eating habits. My performance in Chemistry is bleak and I missed Teacher's Evaluation and has to endure an adult ranting about "teaching me discipline" and all the stuff adults make you wanna crap out of your system. Luckily I can paint the backdrop for our Theology musical though I have to miss one meeting again for the interview. They actually have fees: 20 for late, 25 for excuse and 50 for absent. They've leaked...see...50+50+25+25= 145. Ah hell, anything for the contribution to buy materials like paint cans and canvas.

So I've seen better days. I do hope our Thesis will come along nicely about Autism and the Biomedical Approach. I guess it helps to distract yourself with this normal things because life is just a pain in the ass. I also have to go to the guard to tell him/her I change parnters so the next time he/she checks my new partner's name, it's on his/her stupid list. Dammit, one of these days a student would hopefully bring a gun to school and kill us because we all deserve to die!!!

...see, now I need constant doses of happy pills.

Now, I also wasted money on printing pictures (320) buying a Saiyuki manga (75) and some art materials to make my scrapbook for the printed pictures (55.)

I hope that the semester ends...well, well, I still have summer school.

Bitch.

 
 
Oh, great I'm in: nothing of sense
Fruity Mood Swing now is: mischievousmischievous
Fruity Audio: "A Little Priest" from Sweeney Todd Soundtrack
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
02 February 2008 @ 12:35 am
"You are now in my personal journal where I shall feed you useless information about my life in college and my cravings, my drawings, my emo drama and my Jason Mraz fever."

Reading this silly phrase from my first ever entry actually makes me want to drag myself to the nearest exit. People jump off buildings all the time so why can't I? See, I did say I would ramble happily with Seth Cohen's slick sense of ironic humor but somehow I divulge into too much Peyton Saywer crap that it's hard to be Mr. smarty-pants. In addition to that, I'm by far in discontentment pertaining my caliber in writing. There really are few who are better than me and to make me sound more paranoid and bitchy, let me say that I do envy those writers since I'm a lousy screw-up and slacking off with my writing duties makes it worse. It's really of sheer peculiarity that I'm writing in this journal again, talking to myself with shit and hardly really paying attention to the gaping holes of both my social and school life. So let's acknowledge reality. I'm gonna have to experience a head-on collision with it, right?

I'm on Academic Probation. I got an F in Algebra. Now I have another F in Chemistry for the second semester. I'm not doing good in SPED 2 since I failed to comply with some stuff so I get a C+ for now and with ComArts, I get a B+ which are frustrating since they're the only two subjects I'm good at. Not to mention my Philosophy professor was shocked to hear that I want her lower the B- I got from her since I claimed I don't deserve it and I wasn't even exerting any effort I really do like Philosophy though. This is what happens when you're a lousy student who thinks she is too smart for school. And the learned helplessness is also a drag. It blows, I tell you. Now that I'm writing fanfiction stories and draw artworks instead homework, I'm officially going to jump in a building in metaphoric sense since I have a pretty good feeling that I might become an irregular student.

I'm so beautiful, ain't I, with all my conjectures about wisdom and maturity and my hypocrisy and antisocialism. I might really just snap one of these days. I might stab somebody and rape their corpse. I might just drink Formaline. I might just break. I know my breaking points. I know I'm near one again. This time I might submit to the darker desires of my soul, which includes varied interests for the criminal and the doomed. I should be careful. My mind might turn against me. As a girl who will never be loved, a friend could help, hell, even a fuck buddy could. No social life, friends come rare and sex isn't accessible. Does God deny me even when I pray to him before I eat my meals? Is life so dull that others are forced to give in into perverted actions? Will I be one of them? It would be interesting since being a major failure society-wise is depressing.

I need to breathe. I need to get real sleep, not just quick hour naps. I need to get laid. I need to feel alive again because being dead now just doesn't improve how I envision the future ahead. Might I trouble anybody for an advice? Hot damn, I probably wouldn't take your two cents so fuck humanity. Quit the darn wars and domestic violence and the broken homes. Assholes.

I fell face front down the stairs. It was the second time. The first time my ass took the fall and even if it was last year, my back still hurts. It's like I took a prison rape or something. And now after my second fall, my right leg has a dark bruise. I landed on my chest. It was brutal. But then again so is living.

And I haven't even been talking about Jason Mraz at all!

Crapcakes.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: shitting myself to sleep
Fruity Mood Swing now is: determineddetermined
Fruity Audio: "Mr. Curiosity" by Jason Mraz
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
01 February 2008 @ 04:39 am
It bears a little worth when you divulge into layers of your own cake.

When you spend too much time thinking of how your feelings affect you, they lose their quality.

If only brooding can burn my calories then I won't have to worry about being diabetic.

My mom acquired it. If I'm not too careful, I might weigh more and die soon.

Sure beats having anorexia or bullimia though. I'm plenty of fat not just in body measures but in self-worth. I don't starve myself because I starved to be loved. Maybe that's my problem. I need a new habit, something that doesn't have to involve how the world is falling apart and maybe there is a black hole, somewhere a universe of missing stuff.

I had my moments of grief and the burn scar I received from my brother is the representation of something endured and something lost.

When you just brood all the time, it also loses its purpose. Emoish is soooo pop culture. I'm still the real thing. I'm the eternal pessimistic, dark thinker that can put Emily the Strange a run for her money.
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: fullfull
Fruity Audio: "Yello" by Coldplay
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
30 January 2008 @ 09:13 am
You take a dive over the edge and you later beckon for the consequences.

You lean on a flat surface only to discover that it's a hole and then you fall into its crevice.

You lash about the stuff that irates you, like dragging yourself from your bed, for example, because bit by bit, second by second, you're losing your will to live. Suicide is already an option you took in the past but seeing you failed twice to comply with it, you decided not to engage your whims on the impulse. Then you whine like a little bitch about terrifying events that shook your life before, like having an autistic brother you wish to know more. You fail. You're a failure. You lose. You're a loser. Life isn't what's getting you; it's the thought that you're not living it at all.

So when you claim that you die inside with your walls collapsing and iron curtains falling, you mean it. No one understands. You're too fucking complex, a legendary screw-up. You shit on yourself like a douchebag because you know that if there's a God and He can see you now, you probably hide your woes and cover your shame using a cheap plastic bag.

You're wrapped in little puzzle pieces. You spent mornings constructing them and nights destroying them. You're a nocturnal, washed-up, goddamn Ice Queen trapped in her ideals and fears. You're a moron with no sense of navigation. Your pathways are never traveled and whenever you say you're not loved, you really mean it.

You mean it because in a civilization which is neither barbaric nor wise, you're the walking paradox of everything.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: does it matter where I go?
Fruity Mood Swing now is: highhigh
Fruity Audio: "Lost and Confused" by Lilix
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
21 January 2008 @ 01:19 pm

I got my wish. The four girls are moving to a condo and I will be left alone just as I envisioned it. The day would be exactly how I imagined it to be. Their bags packed beside each other. Their scent and laughter that kept me awake will drown into a near black hole. They won't look my way and they would walk together, speaking in riddles of their absurd language of teenage glee and never look my way. I wouldn't look their way too. It would be the perfect portrait of no regrets, of submission to the things you wished to control but cannot. I won't look their way. Even an exchange of breath would be much dreaded in my part. Not everything should be difficult. This is almost too easy. I was successful deleting Mea and Vera's picture in my phone, the three of us smiling like cheap whores, the picture cropped and designed using PhotoImpact. I deleted it and it was gone. I would delete them too when I find some time. Then when the day I stated earlier finally arrives, all that would be left to the room would be my artworks and series of insomnia-driven nights on working plot storylines. I have the world to myself. Somehow even though they will take the fridge with them, the fridge will always  be me. My cold surfaces are unable to take the piling of their shitload so goodbye. The sweetest symphony of no regrets is final absolution, goodbye without even looking back. Never look my way and I never look at yours.

Not so difficult at all. So simple, as a matter of fact.

 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: hopefulhopeful
Fruity Audio: "Mad World" from Donnie Drako
 
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
20 January 2008 @ 12:18 am
I lost control four days before.

I find myself angry at the people I live with in my dorm but I pose a smile because they don't know. They affect my outer shell but my core is as solid as rock. I get to channel my emotions of hate in several ways and they don't include writing anymore. Last Friday I cried in the car and my parents thought it's because I haven't eaten dinner. I told them it's been months since I cried and it's not normal. Then things got better and we watched Sweeney Todd. It was their wedding anniversary or something like that and I cried like a whiny coward. I just had to. I was angry. I was angry again when I wrote in my Theology scrapbook that I no longer was. Here's my take on emotion: it's like my insomnia: you were neither really asleep or awake.

Four days ago I had an amusing conversation with a homeless man. He was 37 and his birthday was on July 17. He told me things I don't understand. He was babbling and talking to himself most of the time while I fed him a decent warm meal. Then he told me something that struck me and made me stopped being angry for a while. He said that despite not being able to eat well, sleep well or have clean clothes and all the poverty shit that brings you down, his moods are always jubilant and he's happy. He is a happy person, he says. I don't know if it's years of snorting chemicals or what but he is seriously brain damaged. But I liked him. I learned something from him so I kissed his head and I said good night. The next day I was better. It took one smelly man to change me even for a minute.

That was four days ago. Now my head hurts. Maybe I need a change of eyeglasses. This happpened for the third time, my eyes being jammed with a screwdriver in and out. It's painful then it ends somewhere today. I hate it. And not that I lost the will to live, it's just that sometimes when you live an introvert lifestyle and say how you feel in a journal no one else would read, it never keeps you sane.

I am not sane. I pretend I am but maybe I already hit the bottom. 

I look at the world. I feel its ugliness creeping out its layers and that the people my age are so absorbed with the lousiest excuse to get by. In a Library orientation, a question flashes on the monitor, asking what would be the last place you'll go to before you die and one of my classmates jokingly answered that it would be a bar. They thought it was funny. I thought it was too but in an ironic sense. People who spend their lives getting lost in the motion of other people are bound to think that way about dying. They need to escape it and what better way to escape it but join a crowd of drunk losers humping at each other in the dance floor? It reminds me of the time I went clubbing with Vera and Kate and our friendship right there and now is defined as a hubris. And I stopped caring about them.

I don't ask if Vera and her boyfriend are okay. If I did, it was meant as a noncommital talk. I don't ask if Kate learned something from her pregnancy scare. I'm no longer interested to know why Mea and Sha are lovers of the same sex and fight over silly stuff. I was like the refrigerator inside our room; left there in the corner to be filled with their stuff piling on my cold surfaces. I was the fridge. And boy, do I love it. Sometimes I could even take a razor and shave my own face. Then I'd put it in the freezer next to their popsicles and pretend that they might care again about me.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: wanting to puke but cannot
Fruity Mood Swing now is: sicksick
Fruity Audio: "Be Still" by Kelly Clarkson
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
15 January 2008 @ 06:21 pm

It’s been almost four months since I updated my stories in Fanfiction.Net. If I ever did update, it was with chapters I’ve already finished beforehand when I still have the free time, otherwise I may not be complaining of this epidemic that has consumed me. A fellow writer concluded that it was a writer block and that there’s no need to worry. College has also taken my time and I find myself unable to bear sitting in front of a laptop and just type away like I normally do once upon a time. There may be a lot of variables to consider and the first that comes to mind is the lack of inspiration. My artistic temperament suffered procrastination several times but I know this time there’s something different. I’m exhausted with my real life outside the alias of Harley Cooper and it may also contribute to this temporary decline in my writing progress. I’ve almost given up fanfiction writing but I promise to stick around until my obsession with Death Note wanes. 

I don’t need to discuss about the hate mails I receive occasionally but they do have a proportionate significance. I don’t want to discuss about the writers I adore and who have greater kind of caliber than my own style; they inspire me but also corrupt my own faith in my craft. There were the old days when I am comfortable with my talent and skill but now I feel the need to compete with an unknown enemy within me hence I felt being compromised with the person I should trust most: my own self, the writer who wishes to endure and prevail among the other young hopefuls. Should I let it defeat and conquer me? My writing is a symbol of my individuality, the breathing epitome of my creed and my utmost passion. It was my oxygen, dammit but to my dismay, real world has seemingly taken it as its prisoner.

 

I sit in front of the laptop and worry about the papers I have to finish for school. If I come up with an idea for a next chapter in one of my stories, they are left to rest in a draft, never to be explored and typed. It seems to me that I’m being torn apart between my love for the affirming glory I get from writing and my duty as a young girl of seventeen majoring in her Special Education course. These are the times when college sucks you from exhausting your other abilities in the areas you love most. These are the times when the only way you could write a story is during class when the teacher disinterests you. These are the times when you do wonders with your unlimited internet connection in your house but fail to come up with decent plots for the stories you promised to work on. These are the times when you’re doomed because you received academic probation and wanted to release the frustration of your failure in accomplishing a written piece, all the while basking in pride with the countless affirming reviews from readers, but suddenly cannot resort to that.

 

Sometimes I wish, in my deepest regret, that I never encountered fanfiction and that I somehow should have stayed in the comforts of the dark zones of my imagination. I shouldn’t have bred my ideas if only to cost me an unbearable loss in the process. I am a writer. I succeeded proving to everybody who knew me that my identity as one can never be tumbled upon. But alas, my confidence must have borderline arrogance. I write this now because there is no other catharsis available for me. I write this now because I want somebody to hear my screams, to look into my eyes and tell me that I am worthy of this talent, that I have not yet failed and I have more in store for me.

 

In my recent journal entry, I did say that I’m fierce and still staying. How I wish I could still say it proudly as I had. Now I must retire to my obligations in life such as coming up with the missing reaction papers for my subject Intro to SPED 2. I should also bear in mind that if I ever do find the strength to flourish again as a writer, I must hold onto it because I know I may be drained again from its power.

 

 
 
Oh, great I'm in: trapped in a force field
Fruity Mood Swing now is: indescribableindescribable
Fruity Audio: "Lost and confused" by Lilix
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
12 January 2008 @ 06:27 pm
The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less. We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.  We've split the atom, but not our prejudice. 

We write more, but learn less.  We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships.

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.

These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw-away morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer to quiet, to kill.

 
 
Oh, great I'm in: in my residence of vanity
Fruity Mood Swing now is: anxiousanxious
Fruity Audio: "Maybe" by Kelly Clarkson
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
There are plenty of reasons why a girl like me shuts down once in a while. One of them is the horrible adage of "people are stupid and wanting love." And as I realized now there are lecherous events in life that seem to prick like ten thousand paper cuts: losing the one you love...losing half yourself to someone not worth it. It's repeated lives mashed together in the worst kind of mosaic. And you want to cry for a self-esteem lost, for endings soured and misfortunes ahead. But no tear endures; it dries and means nothing at all. Life then is trivialized.

I am not in a foul mood again. I am just reflecting the book "The Kite Runner" since this is one of the rare books that pierce through me. One is "Les Miserables" and then "Fountainhead" and recently "Einstein's dreams." Now I just have to think clearly about how books do portray our lives concretely. Sometimes they seem even too real when everything is blurred with daze and cobwebs of stereotyped agonies and hopeless wishful thinking. 

 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: restlessrestless
Fruity Audio: "God put a smile upon your face" by Coldplay
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
I watched The Holiday starring Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslett. Besides realizing again that Jude Law is freaking hot, I also realized that I am still the hopeless romantic. I know suddenly that I have nothing to be ultimately depressed about. Love still exists, doesn't it? And there is plenty around the world for it and I just wanted some. I can't stay down just because I have no one to cuddle or someone who would cuddle me. In addition to that, I watched Pride and Prejudicewhich is by the way pretty good, considering I never liked the book. And true, women are supposed to just fall in love and get married and I don't want that for me. I know I can be more than just the one of the girls in a crowded room. I need to be tougher again and hope for new sweet beginnings. I can be happy again. Ally Mcbeal can do it so I can do it too since we do have the same neurotic quirks. Seventeen years old, my goodness! I would have more years to start living my life without regrets! Rejection is a normal event. I also have to concentrate on finishing my masters for Special Education. I'm a free spirit again! I am a writer who shall endure and prevail and I am now writing a feminism book called DOLLS PLAYING WITH DOLLS. So...once again, eka-chan has stopped being a wreck for now. I have to be a whole person. That is what it's supposed to be!

Here I come, bitchy life!

SEARCHIN' MY SOUL

I've been down this road walkin' the line That's painted by pride And I have made mistakes in my life That I just can't hide  Oh I believe I am ready for what love has to bring Got myself together, now I'm ready to sing  I've been searchin' my soul tonight I know there's so much more to life Now I know I can shine a light To find my way back home

 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: optimisticoptimistic
 
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
25 December 2007 @ 01:11 am
The days have been cruel to me lately. The manifestation lies solely on my erratic behaviors. Bored, pissed and hungry all the time, that was my only complaint. Bored because life was too much predictable even for my caliber. Pissed because circumstances don't go my way like most teenagers would whine helplessly about. Hungry because I am pressured to look my best in slim outfits and pretty lip gloss. So overall, Christmas to me is another holiday to review all the stupid mistake of the past and the future errors to go with them.

I have been in the same place like yesterday. I get to give people my piece of mind and they just shove it back at me because they can't handle it. My first ever tantrum pissed my rummie Vera off. Kate also got mad. I dwell on the misconception of myself a lot because people don't get me. I can't be one of those people who pretend like I'm nice and that I like social gatherings. I can't be. I'm an introvert. My values are scaled to the point of complete isolation.

I do enjoy travelling though. It exhiliriates me. I have no sense of navigation so I pretty much go with a parent to sites and places  when we go out of the country. It gives me pleasure to realize that the world is huge and I shouldn't be forced to live in comformity with brainless alliances with boring people in my dorm.

I love my roommates. But they don't love me. I know it's a bit negative and morose to think that way but I already established a solid factual basis for that conclusion. Sometimes you get to be stretched into lenghts out of control. And then you lose your sense of hope. You know you're disappearing and no one is going to rescue you.

I'm an old soul who will never be loved for who she is and will be becomming for the next decade.

Kudos to those who will prevail in her life.
 
 
Fruity Mood Swing now is: lethargiclethargic
Fruity Audio: "I Will Be" by Avril Lavigne
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
15 December 2007 @ 12:48 am
While I count the several unfinished journals I have for the last years of my life since twelve yeras old, I begin to gather more cobwebs from my former life as a troubled child with manic depression and who proclaims herself to be an atheist. Of course the new environment of college provided me an opportunity to change my perspective of life into something more radical. It is certain I have grown tougher and smarter after events of misery and darkness in the past. I look for goals ahead but my navigation clock is as whimsical as it can get and I find myself being pulled into compulsions to gratify myself in momentary basis. I've been shamelessly copulating with myself but hands were not used but rather the mind. Mentally stimulated, I swear that I'd choke myself the next time I grind to hard against a pillow between my thighs. Soaked in satisfaction of libertine wanton, I cannot tell if such orgasm becomes a betrayal to the real thing. But oneself cannot testify to the overwhelming urge to alleviate stress with reckless abandon. I am, by far, a whore. 

No, I do not sell sex as a commodity nor do I have the time to be promiscious. But a whore I am! Impure thoughts are not even the problem. It's the dreadful fantasy of believing I will only be loved by a fictional character of my imagination. Is it truly hurtful to be pleasured by yourself and nobody else? Perhaps. My reluctance comes partly from my tenacious ego that was once bruised and now once again thickening the layers of its branded flesh. Now at seventeen, I see myself as an Atlantis where a dive so deep could kill anyone. being something undiscovered, I find it easy to manipulate but if one seam gives away, history will see a real Othello of despair. Rabid, I flee to the world in my mind where I belong and only belong if God will not allow an unfortunate fiend to unlock the enigma that made me and slowly deteriorating me.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: a big fat lie
Fruity Mood Swing now is: embarrassedembarrassed
Fruity Audio: "Goodnight my someone" from "The Music Man"
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
05 December 2007 @ 12:28 am
I have an unusual fondness for intellects.

I guess that it started when I was mystified with Alan Lightman's lead character in "Good Benito." I was eleven years old and it was my "rebel" age so it follows that this discovery bore significance in the next years of my life. The fondness was again resurrected in high school when I encountered Sherlock Holmes. It continued to be persistent until I was finally convinced that eccentric geniuses like John Cage in the T.V show "Ally Mcbeal" fascinates me in that primal, and surprisingly, spiritual way. I have no further denial of my desires to be mentally-stimulated by men of mind power but it would simply be accusatory of my part if I conclude I'm destined to end up with one.

Marriage, like all other productive yet ridiculous things in life, crossed my mind several times during self-conflict but I aspire more than a simple cheer of emotional accessibilty. Hence, a mind like Einstein's arouses me like no other. Yet Einstein is not my favorite genius. It's Sir Isaac Newton and it is all because of his "Law of Cause and Effect" Had he pondered on the underlying pain of the word said and action done? Had he seen through the trappings of our superficial relationships and concluded that opposite reactions are inevitable? Had he observed beauty and saw latent ugliness, error in logical arguments, nuisance in quixotic flairs, tragedy in inspirational love? Had he done all these things that helped him formulate such a remarkable theory? Is it not what we do in this world a product of our choices, a certain breakage of drawn lines that mark a crucial ambiguity in our moral integrity?

Dean Koontz said it best when he wrote, "Language can't describe reality. Literature has no stable reference, no real meaning. Each reader's interpretation is equally valid, more important than the author's intention. In fact, nothing in life has meaning. Reality is subjective. Values and truths are subjective. Life itself is kind of an illusion" (False Memory.)

Did dear Newton knew it all along? We dreaded the confrontation. We knew deep down it is coming. If all the events, incidents and rendevouz mean only as a pattern of nature's ploy and universe's greatest mysteries then what do we all know? Did Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Immanuel Kant, Thomas Aquinas and Friedrich Nietzche knew all of these as they stare at the blank wall, has realized the empty cement in question truly is what the mind perceives it? In the course of history, after all poignant interpretation, did anybody know anything at all?
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: sophie's world and beyond
Fruity Mood Swing now is: thoughtfulthoughtful
Fruity Audio: "Light's theme"
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
28 November 2007 @ 12:46 am
There is simplicity in falling in love with a fictional character.

Men had mystified me all these years but my natural contempt for the chauvinistic ideals and the patriarchal society leaves me unable to find any man worthy of me.

I am sort of a conundrum; not the docile and sweet female because the prejudice of my gender dictates it. I am not of dress or any products of vanity. I prefer the scholarly pursuits of books and literature. Sensous music and dancing do not appeal to me but rather rauncy rap bits and angry rock vocals get to me. You can say that I have a male spirit but is being liberal and adventurous strictly masculine?

I pity and scold young girls like me who prefer indulging their feminine wiles so they could be adored by boys; to show their weak delicacy to earn praise; to conquer a man's lust with absolute resignation. It's upsetting that my creatures of sex prefer partial happiness in superficial affirmation and they would rather be condemned "whore" than to step out of the fortress of their inhibited souls.

I want not to earn tenderness from men but rather respect. I aspire not to be a toy of a man, his rattle and must jingle in his ears whenever he chooses to be amused. So I won't find satisfaction in marriage, in being pampered and patronized by my beauty. I have a caustic wit and a sense of virtue in me with wings that won't be clipped.

So having an imaginary lover became a leisure for me. I was not the type to excite boys with a gorgeous body and a pretty face. The sensuality instrument of mine is my mental strength. Only real men can see that.

A figment of my imagination like a fictional character captures my substance deliberately. He cooes me and sustains me not wicked promises of riches and pleasure but ethereal intellectual fantasies.

And so I travel alone for now. The tour is an eye-opener and although my heart longs a companion, I promise to keep my head strong. If not destined to be the better half, at least I've learned to be whole even when alone.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: another dimension again
Fruity Mood Swing now is: thirstythirsty
Fruity Audio: "Alone" by Avril Lavigne
 
 
Francesca Garchitorena
20 November 2007 @ 12:26 am
Misery has already swallowed me. 

It wasn't guilt that brought me back to the same road. It was mere chance. One wise dimension witch said that there are no coincidences in this world: just inevitabilty. So I'm here. But I was never here. If you think about it, my logic doesn't make sense with that but I've never claimed it otherwise. 

People always thought that contemplation lives likes a rotten parasite. I seek mental approval using it so I give no appreciation to those who condemn it. I sometimes don't have the energu to care anymore.

It started out with small detachment. I stopped having dinners with them. Besides the obvious fact that I'm finding it a hard time dealing with the "normality" of my friendships with my roomates, I miss it though. Since I rarely spend time with them, the only time I could include myself in their conversations was by laughing and agreeing along. Whenever I'm alone with one of them, I can appropriately act all friendly but when the five of us are together in the room, I produce unnoticeable silence in my part. There was a time I liked their companionship but during those times I know they just tolerate me. I find myself into humiliating positions whenever I express myself. It's either I'm too frisky or broody. After a while, I just can't pretend anymore.

So I detached because I know it will hurt someday.

That's the funny thing about friendships. When you live with friends who are the wrong types who don't get you, you endure the need to fit in and have a good time.

Maybe I'm becomming a snobbish daft myself. I'm starting to think I'm better than everybody else; that I'm smarter, more talented and wise beyond my years. I'm turning to be one of those egotists in the ancient world. Is this the road I'll travel alone to become a person dignified in human history?

Well, most rich and successful people in their field end ip without many friends. Maybe this is a practice for me.

My roomates are adorable. But they can't genuinely adore me. To Mea and Krisha, I can't be too normal enough. To Vera and Kate, I can't be too fun and girly enough. I'm the odd friend. I'm quirky and sometimes annoying. When they hear me ramble, they pretend to listen. When I do crazy stuff, they're quick to scold. So I can't hang out with them anymore.

I'm a fucking contradiction and they hate it. So I prefer solitude and be cloaked in mystery cause mystery attracts people and without my mystery, I'm boring.

So I compensate. I lie. It's the price for everything.

And misery thinks I'm being a bitch.

I have to agree somehow.
 
 
Oh, great I'm in: conjured fantasy
Fruity Mood Swing now is: rejectedrejected
Fruity Audio: "Half-Life" by Duncan Sheik