crazy people don’t know they’re crazy

Would you rather be rich or famous?

I think I’d choose to be famous. It’s not having something that makes me happy, but being recognized for something.

But I’ll be neither. I am destined for anonymous poverty. The greatness of the uncelebrated drudgery.

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Speaking of drudgery, the impending arrival of mentorpian coins from heaven (barya itu!) has sent everybody to a pre-payday shopping frenzy. And budgeted or not, my pay is slowly oozing out of me into the hands of Multiply.com-based businesses. I cannot even enjoy the idea of getting my salary. How sad this shopaholic sickness is. 

At least I’m getting some new stuff. Whether I need them or not is something I would just not dwell on, lest I get shopper’s regret.

Oh, speaking of which, gotta get new shoes for mom!

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Holy Week has been good, though as much as I would have wanted to be really spiritual, it’s just kinda silent and somber. Mostly because I was left alone in the house and instead of reflecting and feeling all my guilt wash over me, I just numbed myself and watched tv. I think I shy away from feeling too much that I don’t want to go to church anymore (and I haven’t been going for a really really long time). I just know that a really poignant homily would drive me to hysterical tears and I know that is something regular churchgoers will never understand. Not only am I concerned with what they will think of me, but also, such display of emotion would alienate some people and ruin their spiritual experience.

Still, last Good Friday saw me bawling my eyes off even as I watched some trivial not-funny movie on the tube. Suddenly, my eyes were watering and I felt this really really heavy feeling pressing on my breastbone and sitting very heavily just above my stomach. I found myself crying silently for no reason, and unexplicably sad for the rest of the day. I ignored it of course, blaming it on PMS or even teen depression, and continued on as if it was just a normal day. It wasn’t.

To tell the truth, I wrote an entirely different entry last Friday and I was ready to post it when I lost internet connection. I would post it now, had I had the courage to do so. But I am not that brave and still, I am ridden with guilt and shame that I still can’t . Those of you who know how to pray, please do so for me.

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By the time I get home, The Exorcism of Emily Rose will be showing. I completely love that movie. Somehow, it is like me. No, not that I believe I am Emily (could’ve been though) but as a movie in itself, you could take its descriptions and apply it to me. Yes, I’m scary, I’m devilishly delightful, I’m a drama and I am torn and inconclusive. But I have a relieving ending.

Once you’ve looked into the darkness I think you carry it with you for the rest of your life.
-Father Moore, The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005)

~ by denice on 10 April, 2007.