Wednesday, March 16, 2005
a-this thing, a-called love, i just, can't get enough
First off I have to say that this is me-being-a-fugitive blog. Why? Well, there's supposedly a big 'fire drill' going on in Cemara. To be exact, all meatbags should go to the Cemara hall for the fire drill. Huh? Well, I don't get it too. So I run away la. Why bother going for something I don't really understand about? Damn hostel nazis. Oh, attendance is compulsory. Thus, me in fugitive mode.I got a lot to blog here, so lemme lay out the future stuff first: Dad's comin' down to town. Atok Jabar's in the hospital (sg.Buloh). This means I'm outta here, folks. For a couple 'o days. The boredom's already hit my already-hollow cranium. Wait, ain't it supposed to be filled with, like, stuff for the finals? zOMG!
Next: shoutouts.
To Otter: I just realized 24th-26th is my finals. Boo-frickin-hoo. Oh yeah, Irasshai!
To Ross: Irasshai too. Stay and have cuppa of Gasoline. XD. Changed hosting again ah? Damn nice tagboard hide-'em-up. And you linked my site....
Which brings us to Lase: Hiya. Yeah, you can officially link my site. Emoticon overdose on the wig thing, but takpa la. And no, I won't put up a taggie just yet. Remember that tag-board was down for a few days? That kinda killed my interest in it. But the thing Ross did with the hiding Javascript..
Oh, I'm honored that you used me as an example. I almost broke my own coda and almost posted in your taggie. Then I remembered that taggies don't accept more than 200 charas (which is another minus point).
I thank you for the words you so deftly wrote down there. The weird question that I had in mind was, "people respect me? I thought I was just bantha fodder..." Self-depreciationist thinking, I know. But hell, I still thank you for those kind words.
Can't I live in some sort of a different world just like .hack//SIGN? Subaru was a handicapped but yet she had such power in the game itself. Can't I release all my feelings, thoughts and emotions in a webspace, where the number of people who know me are greatly reduced? Where I can scream but it still remains silent? Where my facial expression now and a minute later might change but still, no one knows? Where I pour out anything I feel comfortable and watches as it drifts away into cyberspace? Can't I be different.....?
I'd like to give an opinion about this. Yes, you can have the power just like Subaru. Yes, there is a place where you can be like a wolf, howling at the silver disk far away up above, and that the forest around you is silent, nodding in silence of your howl. There is a space where you have a thousand faces, and all those faces are yours. Faces that twist in agony, that mourn in the sadness, that smile when you're happy. And that those wandering souls thought you opened a mask shop. There is a place where the electrons flow like a silky river, and you release your paper ship into the river, full with your "everything" on board, watching it float on the electrons, drifting peacefully to the sea of cyberspace. There is a place where you are different.
Hmm....where is it? Is it on your desk? Probably. Is it in the palms of your hands? Maybe. Is it inside you? Most likely. So where is it...?
And that's just the damn intro, folks. I'm not into the main blog yet.
Here's the real blog.
Today I spent a bright, lovely day with a certain someone. We had fun and all, but somehow we had a small troublesome worry in the back of our heads...
To tell you the truth, and to dispel any rumors: no, we're not an item. We're not a 'couple'.
Which brings me to real meat of the blog: the concept of love.
Yes, yes...*groan*, not another shitty blog about love..again. *pukes*.
But wait! This ain't just 'another shitty blog about love'! This has content!
We're not really 'a couple'. We're more like a couple of best friends. We could hoo-haa just like some lifelong buddies. And yes, we cling to each other. Which makes people think that we're in love.
WRONG! What is this shit called love? When does two people who respect and care for each other should be labelled as lovebirds? So they hang around together. Does that mean they're in love? What is this love shit?
I have a friend who's in love with my classmate. They go out to dinner together. They sms non-stop. When the dude's not home, we could correctly guess that he's with his girl. Yes, you could call that love.
I also had loved a lot of girls in my lifetime. Granted, they suck donkey balls. So, are my feelings are the same as my friend's?
And then there's this girl. We hung out together. I guess the reason we stick together is that we have a lot of trust and respect for each other. We shared stuff, namely secrets and lunch money. She needed advice, and I was there for her. I need a good slap on the head, and she graciously obliged. So, we compliment each other.
And yes, I do have the hots for her. Guess what? I told her, directly. And she's okay with it. Of course, aside the feeling of ickyness (it's always the same reaction) she says that she has the hots for me too. Wait, that doesn't sound right.
Lemme rephrase that. I said I had loved her. I really worshipped her. But somewhere along the way, I couldn't see her as someone I could love. Instead, I saw her as a best friend. I couldn't love her as a guy loves a girl anymore. I love her a a friend loves another.
Wouldn't you know it, she says she loves me too. As a friend.
So basically, we love each other, as a friend. I'm not bitter about the "as a friend" thing. In fact, I really put a lot more value on the "as a friend" thing than on the usual lovey-dovey shit.
The real question is, what is the concept of love? What kind of love are we having? Basically I really hate putting labels on abstract ideas. The subtle meaning of the concept is lost when there is a label on it.
Let's put it in terms of wines. The wine bottle has a label on it. Let's see...Chateau Brineaux Volzes Shah Alam Cemara DonkeyShitte, 1925. The label says that this Chardonnay has taste of pinewood in it, as well as the distinctive taste of the black grapes that was harvested in 1925 where the smog that year made the winemakers a little tipsy and fell face-first when stomping on the grapes in the Sultan Rizal (a real shithead dictator) Royal Vineyard. It has the smell of herbs when you put your nose on the cork, and has that chocolate-y aftertaste like the maggot-infested out-of-date bar of chocolate. Okay, too much information about the wine.
What happens when an individual tastes the wine? One sommelier might find that there's a taste of strawberries in the wine, and it actually tasted like M&Ms. Another sommelier might disagree with it. There's a subtle sour taste in the wine, and it really does taste like zebra piss, not chocolate. What do you think it'll taste like when you sip it? Do you take your info directly from the label, and lose your own thought about it, or do you ignore the label and actually try to taste it, really enjoying the wine?
Long thing short: It's the process, not the end result. Not the label that accompanies it. It's the ongoing assesment.
Back to the love thing. So, when does two friends who love each other, as a friend, is considered a pair of lovebirds?
Oh shit...I think I got lost in translation somewhere. But one thing's for sure, we're not in love. We're friends. And I'll break the necks of people who'll go and heckle us, "ooh! you're a couple now!". Bullshit. We respect each other more. More than I respect you, that's for sure. *snap*
My friendship with her is based on trust. And respect. Without those, I don't think we could even stand each other. A friendship is a beautiful thing. I know that since the dawn of time. It's sad that people always have a skewed view, because of those labels.
When I'm friends with my buddies, people don't say a thing. We have respect for each other. We trust each other. Because of that, we are good buddies. But when the same things is between me and a girl, all hell breaks loose. "Ooh? When did you guys hooked up?" *snap*. I respect her. I trust her. I love her. Just like I love my buddies. And people don't call me a homo. When I even sit close to a girl.....
......
Whoa. Damn that's long. And I'm not angsty. Heh. I guess this could be my best personal record, right here. Sorry you guys have to tredge through all this shit. I am at best, kot.
Can you guys, like, read it? I pity you guys. It's okay if you wanna skip it altogether.
Holee-y shit. Mm-hm, that's some nice psychobabble there.
Jya ne.
^_^
-_-
T_T
to be continue...