step up the happy-o-meter

I can’t write.

If I write I become too emo. And I am NOT emo. I could be at times, but now I cant afford to be one. I cant afford to hear myself whine and moan about the cruelty and injustice of love and friendship and society because if I do, I wont stop. It would build momentum until I become this ball of self-pity, causing an avalanche of pity-partying blog entries created to bring gloom to the universe.

i would become a real jz.

so let me stop while I’m at it.

*****

 It’s just been so long since I wrote. It’s been about a month, even more than. And I won’t even think about how long since I’ve written a poem or touched the half-made stories I’ve saved on my aged computer. My mind generates stories everyday, why can’t i just write them down?

 *******

This part is dedicated to those people who track my insanity through my blog:

I’m okay. I think. It has just come to my attention that I am completely incapable of being angry. Or showing it, at least. I get pissed, I get irritated, but I cannot become angry, mad, furious. Or maybe I do become mad, angry and furious, but it just doesn’t translate to the obvious.

What I do is steam. Yep. I steam with all the hurt, the pissed-offness, the irritation and then when I reach my ultimate boiling point, I’ll confront you with a well-placed swear word. Unfortunately, if you happen to be one of the densest people in the fudging planet, this will have no effect on you whatsoever. You will just brush me off with a noncommital: “Anlaki ng problema mo. Ewan ko sayo.” and I’ll still smile at you and say a fudgingly sweet “Thank you.” I am a failure at boiling. I have such a high tolerance level, I don’t know when a person is justified to be angry.

 I am OK. I think. I’ve been privvy to such reaction and I saw it coming. I was not surprised and I’m not even sure I’m hurt. Maybe even pain does not translate anymore.

 But right now I am pissed. Stupid wordpress. Has finished the entire entry, which to my naive opinion, was so honest and heart-felt I actually felt good writing it. But it did not save. Akkh. Stupid technology.

*****

Will try to rewrite the lost paragraphs.

 It’s great that I love my work. I’m finally teaching, though I’m not sure if this is the kind of teaching I was meant for. It seems so easy. Not that I’m complaining. I finally get to master the art of Petix. And with my load for the YFC Campus team, I think this set-up would fit me just fine.

I finally found my niche in service. You ever get that fulfilled sense of being used to the most that you can be? Like there is no part of you that will go to waste? That’s me right now. That even though certain people will never want me, I am so not wasted. I am where I should be.

 The greatest thing about it? It’s the idea that the past brokeness has prepared me to rise above myself when my call came. And so the verdict: a step up on the happiness-o-meter. A level up on my quest to be happy. As Arnold Arre in his Mythology Class (which I finally finished, thanks to Master-Multitasker Claire Ramos), this world is not meant for our eyes to see. Our fate was not meant for our understanding, but for Bathala’s. It is a grace to even understand a wisp of His wisdom.

You, my friend, are a victim of disorganized thinking. You are under the unfortunate impression that just because you run away you have no courage; you’re confusing courage with wisdom. – Wizard of Oz (1939)

~ by denice on 17 October, 2006.