pleasures all mine

i have always envied those who can really express their feelings, views and thoughts. either via words, arts or music, which i discovered being the best form of expression ever. i have always wanted to write my own scripts, my own music and movie. i want to be articulate. like alanis, mr vedder and many more. i want to be smart and prolific, not appear to be one.

and now i found out that i'm trying to sing journey's open arms every friday night.

a girl i once dated re-emerged from the shadows of my happiness. she was devastated by the previous relationship. my answer, when asked, was that i'm getting married soon. as anyone else would, she congratulated me. and we went on exchanging sms until this afternoon. until she got bored (or tired of being pretentious), she stopped replying.

"well, we were not meant for each other perhaps.."...

i'll walk a mile for my camels

to kill time, there are times when i read other people's blog. many topics or subjects or bluntly-written day-to-day diary. sometimes amusing, sometimes annoying. sometimes i think some of us need some help. sometimes i think i need it more than anyone else. sometimes i just listen to REM's everybody hurts.

a friend wrote about his emptiness. blaming his career for the amount of prozac and valium and all that mind-altering chemicals consumed. is it true that being a writer, you will have to let yourself wandering around in some imaginary worlds? so that you could produce out-of-this-world results. so that you will receive a big round of applause for your masterpiece but internally you are battling with the demon who just wouldn't go away.

everybody hurts.