Goodbye, Blog.

The world didn't end yesterday, as predicted and widely publicized by the media idiots (a term analogous to "village idiot"). And I'm ending this blog. There's so much crap going on in my life, making an online diary about it isn't going to ease my pain. Plus somebody might trace it back to my IP address and figure out that it's me writing this, whoever I am. Plus my life is too uninteresting to blog about, unless I graphically describe the steamy parts. So I'm doing the blogging community (if there is such a thing) a favor and shutting this one down.

To end this more gracefully, here is a poem that appeals to me, more than any poem I've read so far.





Through the Realms
by Carlo Sia 
Tuesday, May 17, 2011 at 5:47pm

The rush in my veins will not be enough,
It beats through my heart that’s full of vengeance;
sending me riddles and mysterious laughs.
I’m into the trance – I hope you will dance.

Oh monarchs and pope give him back his hope,
for he is confused and probably lost.
A sinner like me can’t define or probe --
his sexuality that bothers me most!

I feel the guilt, yes! Look into my eyes,
but don’t threaten me! Never curse my faith!
For I will send you the oceans and skies
and wrap you with the shadows of a wraith.

Hide! For this strife will thunder through the years
--and forever you will run from my spears.


Impulsive behavior has always been at the heart of my problems.

It can be useful sometimes, specially when I'm creating something. I often produce my best work when I'm inspired and uninhibited (and therefore able to act on impulse). It also comes in handy when I'm in a position where I need to intimidate somebody to get my way.

But then there is this other, negative kind of impulsiveness that sometimes grips me, and drags me around. When I'm like this, I'm often not very productive. Sometimes I can hold it in, I just mope and sulk, or I try to lock myself up and hide until it's over and I'm ok. Sometimes my whole brain just acts like it's on auto-pilot, and I get highly emotional and I can't really behave in a way that lets me co-exist peacefully with the people around me. My mom used to call these tantrums.

I googled impulsive behavior, and found a lot of material on ADHD. I think I have it. It's not just my impulsiveness, it's about everything that's wrong with my life.

I'm actually afraid that if I blog about that (everything that's wrong with me) and then I try to apply for a job and they find out, they might not hire me. And no, I wasn't referring to paranoia (I am paranoid, but I like it that way).

Seriously, I've been thinking for some time now, I could use some real professional help. I should also start another blog, documenting that so I can show my doctor, and other more blogworthy topics so as not to bore off any potential readers. Like, I have interests, too. And I should also end this one, right now.

(Ok, goodbye blog, It was nice making you.)

Something totally dumb happened today. I just got caught chatting on chatroulette.

And what's wrong with chatting? My boyfriend doesn't like the idea of me doing it. He is totally justified there.

Who was I chatting with? Some English bloke who looks like a cross between Colin Firth and Hugh Grant.






And why did I get caught? I guess that's how it is when you don't do it very often. You don't really know how to hide something until you actually have something to hide.

Finally, why was I chatting instead of doing something else? I just thought it would be nice to hear (or read) that I look good, once in a while. It's pretty pathetic, I know. Being somebody who gets compliments only when she is on a webcam.

It's not that I'm ugly, it's just that I'm not that pretty either.

Except that I'm really not that hot.

My status message: I don't feel beautiful, but I KNOW I am. (trying to convince myself)
Comment 1: (insert pet name here)! of COURSE u r.like duh. :p
Comment 2: You are beautiful!
(like, like)
My comment in response to them: That's what I'm talking about!

Except that I'm really not that hot. In the socio-cultural sense of the word. Attractiveness, as defined by the society I belong to. I mean, some say I'm cute, some say they like my style, but nobody outside my closest circle of friends has told me I'm beautiful. I've been called beautiful by a lot of strangers from other cultures, and I'm guessing it has a lot to do with my youthful appearance plus the fact that they don't often see people with features like mine. In other words, youth and novelty make me beautiful.

I'm not young at all.

Another way of putting it is, I feel like I'm Bridget Jones. And a PHONY, for posting something that I'm hoping people will respond to in order to boost my self-esteem.

So I delete my comment, then I unlike the other comments.

Then I delete the post altogether.

Then I change my password.

Then I deactivate my account.

My reason : The more I use facebook, the more alienated I feel.

Facebook is a social networking site. I'm just not sociable. I can't blame my hormones or my crappy attitude or my appearance or my unhappiness for that, it's just not true, since all these can coexist with being sociable. I just want to not have a facebook account anymore.

Though I just might make a new, fake account for the sole purpose of causing trouble. (Insert high-pitched witch cackle here)

New blog, new...whatever

My boyfriend doesn't like it when I express myself in writing. His reasons: 1. it's attention-getting behavior (facebook) 2. What I blog or put in a diary, I just dwell on my pain and 3. He thinks its always directed at him.

He's often right about the last one. He just torments me, about 50% of our interactions are him nagging at me. So naturally, he's on top of the list of people I complain about the most (up there with my dad). But then he is also one of the people I often speak fondly of, so... I don't think it counts.

And i agree that posting every little thing you do and think is, most of the time, in bad taste. And, sometimes, instead of healing you, it reinforces your negative emotions when you see real your post/journal entry repeatedly.

But then, it can be helpful, as long as I don't overdo it. Writing helps me put things into perspective. I start a new blog, as I download new software for my new laptop, to mark the start of my new...thing. I don't know what to call it, yet. Whatever it is, I just want it documented in this blog. All of this is just me talking to myself, and helping myself remember these thoughts that would otherwise be forgotten (or not be forgotten but clutter my head, or be partially forgotten or corrupted by other, future thoughts).

Literally, this is my very own self-help blog.

Nothing you haven't read before

I didn't really write this tonight, but I promised myself I'd blog. So here I am, plagiarising my own work:

I just need to get this out of my system.

It actually annoys me when other people constantly whine about the negative things in their life. And yet I need to do just that, just a little, and just for me. Not for anyone else to read. And why here? So everyone could see it, that's why.

(I mean, seriously, who would read this. It's not like i'm posting it on facebook and tagging my friends in it.)

Just doing this, tapping on the keyboard and coming up with this nonsense is surprisingly refreshing. Addressing nobody in particular, or addressing myself, like in a good old-fashined diary, it just relaxes me.

Not that keeping a pen-and-paper journal had the same effect on me when I was obsessed with it about 5 years ago. Back then, I was EXTREMELY negative and pessimistic, and everything I wrote sort of reflected that, and reinforced it to some extent. My boyfriend had sensed this, and took the initiative of tearing up the cute little notebook that I had filled with enough dirt to bury my entire hometown.

Which might sound like a nasty thing for a boyfriend to do, but which was helpful in that it helped me heal, and it let me test my capability of putting things in perspective without using anything but my head. The way normal people (like him and everyone else I know personally) do.

(It's a kind of cultural norm here, to be uncomfortable with anything that involves using your IQ. Another story for another blog.)

So, I'm thinking, like what Jason Mraz said in his song:

"What about taking this empty cup and filling it up..."

I could use some optimism in my life.

So here I am, blogging my heart out. I don't care if nobody reads it, I don't care if I get caught (my boyfriend hates it when I express my feelings through writing), I've had enough of this self-imposed blog ban.

I'm thinking of deleting my facebook account, for good. What the hell do I need it for, I don't have a social life, in it or outside of it. I actually deactivated it, only to havr it re-activated by someone