an ordeal

sometimes it's too depressing to realize that little by little our resources are depleting :-( opportunities are sporadic and that alternatives are limited. as one moves to a higher plateau, so is his wants augment. One never really reaches the state of contentment. Nothing is sufficient to a craving heart. it's alright if the answer to one's quest is to desire to do more, but the quandary on being in this state is one often compromise what his heart truly desires. One settles to what is just within reach...what is easier to meet! One starts to lowering his benchmark...settling to what is inferior..so as to meet the cravings...the longing...the wishful thinking...

apart from being normal

people say that i'm too normal to be eccentric. but i am. eccentric, not normal. i like certain things. i like to walk. with no particular destination. just to exercise my seemingly wobbly feet. i do this until my feet are sore. and my entire body is tired. i like to stash with a good paperback during ungodly hours. exhausting the few remaining brain cells i have. i have fixation on nature adventures and extreme activities. thus i sometimes think that i'd die not of natural death but of a tragic accident because of my obsession on perilous stuffs. i love to watch other people's gesture or reaction. while eating, writing, or doing anything. while in a state of shock, utter disbelief, or totally enraged. for no particular reason at all. music enthralls me the most. anita baker, julia fordham, aretha franklin, frank sinatra, norah jones, sarah mclachlan, carol king, patti austin, michal buble and everything but the girl are my top 10 favorites. but i could count at least a hundred and one artists to include in my list. i don't normally sleep. not because i'm an insomniac. but because i believe sleep is a luxury. for people who want to accomplish so many things, sleep suddenly loses its value. it becomes irrelevant. it is a boredom. but i enjoy life. infact, i celebrate it with passion...only in my own eccentric ways...!

suffering from alcoholism

He is whisky. He scratches the throat on his way down, maybe even burns it, but when he settles a bit after the initial reaction, a warmness that is worth all the effort prevails. This is not to say that he is unattractive, what am i, blind?? No, as whisky radiates in the glow of a candle so does his face under any kind of light. It is rather the character of whisky that is harsh and biting, and yet this is eventually the cause of it's endearment. It seems to me evident that in his being nonchalant and phlegmatic in most occassions, I find that he has become essential to me and not accidental!!!