The Odd Number

... to preserve my sanity.

Or what little is left of it.

 Assuming there was some to begin with.

 

And I refuse to care about what people will think. I will do this for my own good.

And my brother's.

It seems as if with every problem I face and solve, another of greater intensity comes along. At this rate, I suppose there won't be any end to this, really. It's as if the longer I put up with these, the harder they become. Perhaps I was a fool to think that all this shall eventually pass. (And it really is a wonder that I haven't given up. Yet.)

So, it has come to this again. These thoughts I have long tried to suppress are resurfacing. And I had, in fact, a letter drafted in my mind last night. Perhaps I will be the first to break that promise I made with kindred souls several years back.

Possibly.

It was exactly 1am when I got out of the bathroom after a quick shower. My hair was still wet so I decided to continue with Murakami's short story collection. I went outside our house to read, bringing with me three sticks of Marlboro Lights, my lighter, the book, and my iPhone.

Halfway through one story, a beetle crashlanded a short distance from where I was seated. And I wondered, "Did it really crash?" The sound of the impact would support the assumption so I stuck with it. And I further theorized that the beetle is old. And far from home. Quite, actually. Bugs in general interest me so I put the book down for a while and watched the insect.

It was trying to fly. By "trying", I meant that it was failing to do so. It either kept on hitting the wall near our gate or turned over on its back. I kept my eyes fixated on it for some time. Then a lizard approached it and pecked at its head. If I hadn't smirked, the lizard would have continued tormenting the beetle, oblivious to my presence. However, I couldn't help but laugh as I watch the two play predator and prey. The lizard obviously was way in over its head to think that it could make late dinner out of the beetle that was almost the same size as it. So as the lizard darted away, the beetle was alone again for some time before it flew to my left and landed on its back. I got up from the bench and helped it up. And I went back to my seat.

Eventually, it did manage to take off though. But only once. And it fell hard on the pavement (with an even louder thud than its first crash) just when I had thought I had seen the last of it. So I walked towards it, picked it up, and set it down beside me on the bench. Then I resumed reading.

I took a glance at it just after I finished reading one story. The beetle didn't move an inch; it stayed at the exact same spot in the exact same position as it had when I had placed it there. And I thought, "I had just witnessed its final flight. It won't live to see the day's coming sunrise."

Forty minutes had passed since I went out of the house. And I figured I should head in then; I still had work ahead of me and the day's just starting, a day like every other one that had passed for the past 22 years of my existence. These days will continue on for years still, I muttered to myself. And suddenly, I grew envious of the beetle. I wanted to kill it there and then. But I realized I would only be doing it a favor if I had done so; it had a short lifespan as it is.

So I let the beetle stay there on our bench and as I was closing our gate, I took one last look at it. It could still fly away, I thought. If it wanted to, it can escape the world it's in. Nature blessed it with wings to do that; I, on the other hand, am not as fortunate.

I prefer the old layout as well.

 Bring it baaaaaaack.

Sometimes, in dreams, I wake up late (say, 9AM) and I hurry with my morning ritual. And just when I'm about to step out the door, I wake up and find out I was on my bed all along. And that it's only 7AM. Since it's too early to get out of bed, I sleep some more. And I wake up at around 8AM and I gingerly perform my morning routine only to wake up to find out that I am already half an hour late for work. And I hurry out of bed into my office attire, damning myself all the while for not getting up earlier. But by then, I doubt that that 7AM was real to begin with. Quite disorienting, really. And I go through this more and more often as the days go by.

And then there are the text messages in my phone and those in the phone in my dreams. Magnificent.

Help me find the switch/es to turn these off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or better yet, the "Exit" sign.

Even a trapdoor or a veeeeeeeeeeeery deep well would do.

Pleasssssssssssssssssssse.

It didn't come as a surprise that my "dream"-phone (Haha.) had received text messages again. Actually, come to think of it, that phone has more messages than my real one. Now, if only I could recall them.. Haha.

Time had also left me behind in its passage. I figure I'm late by at least a decade. Haha.

Logic had always been my downfall. I try to look for it in everything. When it's really not present in all. Or so I think (or "would like to think" or "have no other choice but to think of this".) Haha.

Was wondering a while ago if what Bugie said a few weeks back is (partly) right. That I'm only looking for reasons/excuses to drink. "Drink" is not entirely accurate though (as I'm over my almost-alcoholic phase). I figured the effect I'm (subconsciously) aiming for is depression because of the familiarity I've had with it. Kinda like the effect of drugs on some people. Perhaps.

Following yesterday's "fun"-filled (mis)adventures - including broken stuff and malfunctioning programs - just made today seem all the more booooooring. Whee.

Anyway, this is a recap of what I did, mostly:

After the final test of a code I had updated last night (which consisted of two mouse clicks and a few minutes worth of waiting before the program finishes running so I could open the output file to check the results), I found myself without anything to do. (Perhaps it was also because my boss left for some country today and as such, is out of the office.) So I resorted to surfing the net for information on old video games (just for the heck of it), music (because I want to update my playlist), pictures on online communities (because I'm such a stalker), and DIY solutions (for stuff). And now, with 12 minutes to go before 6PM, I am here on my blog writing this entry.

I don't want to go home yet as I'd rather be elsewhere than there. 'Fraid I don't have any choice today. I have to.

Seeing Father's Day cards at the supermarket last night made me realize how long it has been since I last bought/made one. (Well, there's no need to do that anymore; I am without a father anyway.

And yes, it also hit me that I had never given my mom anything for Mother's Day. Not even once.

---

And I always forget to write about this so I'm doing it now.

I got my bike back. A couple of months ago, I think. Or weeks. Basta.

Why fight then when you know that when you pit yourself against yourself and you win, you end up a loser anyway?

My brother knows the game and plays it very, very well.

A lot from my dad's side used to do, too. Some continue still to this day.

I, on the other hand, have absolutely none of both knowledge and skill.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guess this really makes me the non-conformist, eh? A proof that I'm actually a better person than any of them? Right?

Maybe. Perhaps. Could be. Probably. Possibly.

 

 

 

 

So why the hell does this make me feel like an outcast instead?

For once (after months, I suppose) I was early for work.

I'll be back as "sir" albeit for just a single major subject, COCIRFU.

(Which, btw, according to some upperclassmen stands for "Confusing Circuits for You".)

I would have to die first before I could stop thinking.

 

My blog, that is.

And according to my profile, I've had 281 entries (apart from 20 images, 0 links, and 55 friends).

That would yield, on average (excluding this one), 70.25 entries a year (or 5.8541667 a month, 1.3463381 a week, 0.1923340 a day, .0080139 an hour, 0.0001336 a minute, or 0.0000022 a second). I'm not a prolific blogger, I'd say. Haha.

So why am I not proud of it?

 

... I went out of the house as soon as I got in. Most people look forward to going home after a day's work. I'm not most people, apparently.

... I went to Robinson's Place in Ermita.

... I bought a pair of earrings from Unisilver and had put one on for the first time in months.

... I bought a ticket for the last screening of the latest Indiana Jones movie.

.... I went to Jollibee to get myself something to eat while watching the film.

... I tried picking a fight with the loudmouth of a seatmate I had during the movie teasers.

... I sat through the whole movie.

... I had thought about walking home and how cliche it would be if it rained. Although I would have felt better if it had. (When it's raining, I find myself looking up at it while I'm walking under a streetlamp. I love how the droplets of water appear when the yellowish light strikes it. Somehow, it reminds me of the Rurouni Kenshin ending with Bonnie Pink's song "It's Gonna Rain".)

... I decided to catch a jeepney to Vito Cruz instead.

... I had considered going to Starbucks to continue murdering time (and my wallet in the process) but opted to go home instead as I was not able to bring a book with me.

... I am now in a computer shop.