20040915
misfires
someone named julian signed a very sympathetic note to one of my recent entries, and i snapped back with another of my bite-their-heads-off comments. ay yayay. i've become a walking jokebook, and a bad one at that. i've forgotten what reality was like. i just wanted to answer before i stumble further looking like a heartless idiot, ahaha.
he asked if i could imagine myself anything other than a writer. the honest answer's that i've never had a chance to consider. since moving to chicago my life's hurtled toward the next class and the next activity, and the next semester that finally after graduation, i hadta adjust to the next assignment... that when i did have free time, i won't know what to do with myself. in those quiet moments i put to good use the interview skills i learned. and since most of the time there wasn't anyone during those quiet moments, i turned the questions to myself.
a parrot would be good here now - recent demand for these beautiful birds had skyrocketed that more and more of them are being caught from the forests of tropics. but soon the rich who buy them tire of them and send the birds away or leave them locked in their cages. parrots aren't made to be locked up - they're made to fly freely and shout loudly. their plummage alone should give away they're made to show themselves off.
when you lock parrots up, they stop squawking and start picking at their feathers. some abandoned parrots have become so forlorn that they've been found bleeding and almost naked of their plummage. the barer the parrot, the more unhappy it has become. can you imagine a more shocking sight - a mute, naked parrot? it's unthinkable and heartbreaking.
well, i'm no sunshine, but i do still think life is beautiful, i just have to be more dilligent in my search for it. often i ride my bike around town for it, riding from my house to lincoln avenue for the bookstore and the office supply place for scrapbook supplies and fresh journals. if i can bike as far as the suburbs, i would, so i can go to the chicago botanic gardens and stay long enough to finish a book of poems.
often the farthest i dare go within chicago is downtown and suburban evanston, because they are connected by train, and i can load my bike on a car to move from one extreme to the other. if i want to venture farther i muster enough strength and courage and pocketmoney to book a flight out there, anywhere. i turn fun adventures into vital events to attend.
i hinge my happiness on these because in my mind my arduous journey from quezon city to chicago hasn't yet ended, and so i must see as much as i can, while i still can.
umm. but ok - i go around the u.s. in a decade or so, but i always return to writing. while on a trip i actually dread having to open my journal, because it'll just remind me of what else i left behind, what else is following me, what else is waiting for me when i return. but i bring it anyway in case i need to unload - because not everything that's on your chest should be shared to another soul, at least, in my experience so far.
but for work, i write about fires, bodies found in remote fields, state agencies opening new programs, the whereabouts of politicians and clowns, truthtellers and fortuneseekers, church closings and temple openings, city arcana and academic scandal. when i'm out with friends and family, i turn storyteller and tourist guide. i haven't had a chance to consider in depth, but at this point in my life, no - i can't see myself as anything else than someone who writes. ahaha - what a roundabout way for a short answer. i just didn't want to sound haughty again. wakey, wakey! i got something else to say - thank you for asking, and thank you for reading. :-) ¶ 9/15/2004 01:55:00 AM
he asked if i could imagine myself anything other than a writer. the honest answer's that i've never had a chance to consider. since moving to chicago my life's hurtled toward the next class and the next activity, and the next semester that finally after graduation, i hadta adjust to the next assignment... that when i did have free time, i won't know what to do with myself. in those quiet moments i put to good use the interview skills i learned. and since most of the time there wasn't anyone during those quiet moments, i turned the questions to myself.
a parrot would be good here now - recent demand for these beautiful birds had skyrocketed that more and more of them are being caught from the forests of tropics. but soon the rich who buy them tire of them and send the birds away or leave them locked in their cages. parrots aren't made to be locked up - they're made to fly freely and shout loudly. their plummage alone should give away they're made to show themselves off.
when you lock parrots up, they stop squawking and start picking at their feathers. some abandoned parrots have become so forlorn that they've been found bleeding and almost naked of their plummage. the barer the parrot, the more unhappy it has become. can you imagine a more shocking sight - a mute, naked parrot? it's unthinkable and heartbreaking.
well, i'm no sunshine, but i do still think life is beautiful, i just have to be more dilligent in my search for it. often i ride my bike around town for it, riding from my house to lincoln avenue for the bookstore and the office supply place for scrapbook supplies and fresh journals. if i can bike as far as the suburbs, i would, so i can go to the chicago botanic gardens and stay long enough to finish a book of poems.
often the farthest i dare go within chicago is downtown and suburban evanston, because they are connected by train, and i can load my bike on a car to move from one extreme to the other. if i want to venture farther i muster enough strength and courage and pocketmoney to book a flight out there, anywhere. i turn fun adventures into vital events to attend.
i hinge my happiness on these because in my mind my arduous journey from quezon city to chicago hasn't yet ended, and so i must see as much as i can, while i still can.
umm. but ok - i go around the u.s. in a decade or so, but i always return to writing. while on a trip i actually dread having to open my journal, because it'll just remind me of what else i left behind, what else is following me, what else is waiting for me when i return. but i bring it anyway in case i need to unload - because not everything that's on your chest should be shared to another soul, at least, in my experience so far.
but for work, i write about fires, bodies found in remote fields, state agencies opening new programs, the whereabouts of politicians and clowns, truthtellers and fortuneseekers, church closings and temple openings, city arcana and academic scandal. when i'm out with friends and family, i turn storyteller and tourist guide. i haven't had a chance to consider in depth, but at this point in my life, no - i can't see myself as anything else than someone who writes. ahaha - what a roundabout way for a short answer. i just didn't want to sound haughty again. wakey, wakey! i got something else to say - thank you for asking, and thank you for reading. :-) ¶ 9/15/2004 01:55:00 AM
