i was just thinking about some random and unconnected things as i woke from my sleep today/
this string of words that appeared in my mind while i boarded a bus home just now

how tragic it is to be to be afraid of not having anything witty to say.



and i feel like this, constantly, maybe all the time.
and this is totally unrelated, and incoherent and irrelevant but,
how come i am 'unable', but if you look at me, i have an 'inability'?

english is such a peculiar language.
*scratches head

anyway, back to 'inability'.
i suppose it would explain the reason why my heart skips a beat when i get a phone call, even if its from a recognised number, [you' d be surprised at how unable to handle phone calls even if they come from my friends. i think to date, only 6 people's phone calls i can handle calmly], why i dont go out on single 'dates' with girls OR guys unless i ve known them for, say, 6 months, or, 6 YEARS standing [which was a rare case, we really hit it off ; shes so quirky and inquisitive! =)] and i prefer to sms, msn, whatever other forms of communication that do not require direct contact and give me time to react and phrase my thoughts and reply in a careful and more sensitive manner.

at this point of time, if you think i am blunt, and insensitive and random and act on impulse,
congratulations,
you are formally my friend.
no, really.
im serious about this.


anyway, so,
mr m. was talking to me about being antisocial.
or rather, I was talking to him about NOT being antisocial. [it always seems like im the one initiating conversations, rather?...frmph.]
and i was wondering,
and thinking
and i said, something like,

i splurge on stuff for people i like cause it makes me happy imagining how happy they become
most of the time i buy stuff that they like, so its definite that they ll be happy,
but sometimes i buy them stuff that i like, which makes them happy but makes me sad

which is kind of ironic,
if you think of it this way, like how wife said,
to her,
helping people makes her happy, so she helps people to get the happiness out of it
i suppose we can treat happiness as a commodity this way; altruisitic people are just people who get happiness, a good, out of helping others, and it happens to be some free good that appears out of nowhere.
or perhaps its the smile, or thank you, from the aunty you helped?
but sometimes there are no smiles, thank yous; not even glances or slight signs of recognition.

then so....?



on the way back, on the bus, while i was passing the highway,
i was thinking to myself,
i suppose if rene was right, and that our senses fail us, trick us, lie to us, and the world is not as it seems, or the world doesnt even exist rather, then i would prefer to believe in what i have. however imperfect, irregular, random it be; it is beautiful, it is pretty, it is wonderful to me. plato believes these are all but mere impressions or imitations of the true perfect, beautiful, whole existent world. we are but silly, primitive cavemen, fascinating ourselves with vague, blurry, intangible shadows cast against the wall, when the real, true, beauty lies outside.
if it be true,
then i believe
i would burst out, explode, cease to exist, because
if this were not enough
then, true beauty and existence would rip me apart whole, for how insignificant, uncomplete, and unbeautiful i am.

or perhaps what i see of myself is not my true being,
but rather,
i am too, perfect and whole, like the rest of my surroundings?


or maybe there is nothing at all, nothing but my mind to prove to me that my sheer capability to reason and to do logic and math is enough to substantiate my existence? and how could i convince myself of YOUR existence otherwise?
but i choose not to believe
that you laugh, smile, keep a stern face, trying to cover, try to pretend, feel tired, cry, get angry

these things are real enough, real enough for me.


enough about existence.
since i believe people, in general, are real,
then, what next?

i pity myself, i shame, i cry, i brood, i get upset
i wonder why other people matter to me so much;
their side glances; their looks of approval; their grunts of disdain; their evil sniggers; their smirks; their smiles
whether they are related to me or not, whether they mean anything to me or not

i wonder, i think, i still dont know why.
i suppose we are all social animals.
i dont think i could exist in this world without being a hindrance to someone else or not tolerating someone else's existence
these things go both ways;
sometimes i hurt people
but usually i know when,
and i regret.

but sometimes people hurt me,
and they dont know when, how, or even why.
i suppose its important for me to know why.
i suppose being human implies an intrinisc desire, need, want, to know why
why we exist, why we cry, why we love, why we do things, why we do things a certain way

i suppose it would seem tragic if i were to tell you
i love you for no reason.
well, maybe it sounds romantic, but suppose you really loved a person for no reason.
it would be tragic, wouldnt it?

somehow, we need reasons, be it reality or lies, to convince, coax, persuade ourselves.
ahh, its like that.
oh, thats why she walked away.



but sometimes the truth hurts.
but its always better that way, i think, for me
though i tell white lies, almost all the time. or i like to think of them of white lies, maybe.

it hurts to be played second fiddle, which is why i never do; i never do to others what i wish would never be done to me
but the world isnt all about karma, and i dont really believe what goes around comes around.
the good people all die early, dont they? *smile*


hall and i like, have a love-hate relationship.
im sitting in the middle of two pieces of brownie, and theres nothing to compel me to go towards either,
which would eventually me i sit in the middle, and starve to death?
pity life cant be the case. it would be amusing, wouldnt it?
i just dont really get along with the hall crowd here.
i keep telling myself, its them, not me, its here, not me
but, who knows?

i like to think i am an interesting, self-assured, attractive, intelligent and strong individual.
but these things are all so subjective.
and i keep getting all this shit, which people do unknowingly.
how do i tell them?
that you piss the hell out of me.
that sometimes you annoy me.
that sometimes i wish you [or me] didnt exist.
that sometimes i ....
these things, come up once a while, i think, i mull, i brood, then i swallow, i smile, i tolerate, i ignore
maybe im trying to hard to please them




some brownies are so good, when you look at them via the glass counter, insanity grips you,
and though you have only 5 bucks left in your wallet, you ignore the nagging thoughts and exuberant prices and buy it off straight away.
which leads to two possibilities.

you could have thought too much, too highly of the brownie, cause its not even half as good as you anticipated.
or it could be really smashing fantastic, just as good, if not, better than what you expected.

or sometimes you could just get a brownie craving,
buy an ordinary brownie on impulsive,
look at it sceptically, [while the sad brownie stares back innocently]
take a bite,
then explode with happiness out of the surprise and brilliance hidden inside.

maybe i think in a weird manner, but shopping for food is kind of like maintaining relationships.
or rather, choosing whether or not to consciously make effort to maintain relationships.
except maybe buying food is easier, cause usually the stuff i see, i the stuff i buy, the stuff i eat, i like.

good donuts are hard to find,
but good friends are even harder.

i dont suppose the amount i have is too little? ....
its all about quality, not the quantity right?....




though i'd crave to get a set of 12 donuts anytime...
sigh./