the vulture's future

It's so hard to think of  a new blog title for a new blog that isn't filled with hormonal stuff nor stricken with bitter sobs (or other derivative of what my mom claims to be part of my self-created fairytale life). I think it's about time to write about ideas. Good, useful (and possibly socially-relevant) ideas. Not about how my day went. Not about sappy stuff. Not about stupid emotions.

Or not. Maybe the stupidity is part of the beauty. Or the magic.

this blog is useless

Am I right or am I right?

I'm thinking of deleting this blog because (1) no one reads this crap anyway, (2) I get nothing out of writing crap here and (3) I'm thinking of making a new private blog. So what do you think?

*echo*

God, I feel so alone.

Because I have nothing else to write about:

So anyway, while scavenging for interesting finds in the internet, I came across the blog of my first crush in Pisay. He's so damn good, he's so damn funny, he's so damn tall. And the way he walks and speaks just got me right away during the first day of school (I'm so shallow, right? But then again, that is not altogether surprising). Black frames, clean cut, you could almost entirely guess that it's one silly girl's type. There's one catch though, as I would learn later on. He's bisexual.

Two things that drew me to poring and poring over his blog posts are his epic sense of sarcasm and indifference to just about anything that a pretentious person would claim to care about. Finally, a common ground. Hah. But he's too (openly) sexually hungry for my taste. And so ends my senseless post.

something that's missing

Losing things all too frequently is one of my fundamental flaws. My mind seems to wander too much for my own good and the next thing I know, my prized pen or my crisp five-hundred bill has done a few magic tricks on its own already. This issue bothers me so much that I have adapted few (yet apparently, futile) measures to lessen the occurrences of such mishaps. For one (my friends know this), I have only recently decided to use my phone (the same one rotting in the back of my closet for months and months). But the same phone has slipped from my bag somehow during the graduation ball. My Dad thinks it was such an unfortunate accident. But I, of course, know better. I don't know if it has something to do with slippery hands or all too frequent daydreaming or simply detachment from all things under the sun. Because apparently, I tend to treat people the same way.

You can imagine how great an epiphany that was for me. I only realized and permitted myself to recognize that a while ago, while chatting with my friend. One thing that I'd like to change about myself is not thinking about my old friends enough, not valuing our friendship enough. I've thrown people in and out of my life and for most part, I was not even sorry. Because somewhere at the back of my mind, I do think that people are fundamentally alone. People come and go, and we all just have to deal with that. But how many times have I struggled in climbing up a ravine, then let out a sigh because a helping hand saved my day? How many times have I let a person down, only to feel guilty because the person has not stopped in reaching out? Most of the time, people mean well anyway, and it would do a lot of good to spare kind hearts from the thorns of my heartless soul.

So I guess this is now the cue for my Resolution # 1: Don't be afraid to get attached (while still keeping your stronghold) and don't shove people too easily.

You mean well, but you make this hard on me

Ours is a dysfunctional friendship. Sorry to break this to you, but I now know better, okay. Know your place, don't bother me more than what's necessary and most of all, don't get me annoyed!

-mean girl/ learned bitch

you might find me anyway