Ang Blog ni Paurong!

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9:45 pm | the return of the blue fire

Posted by Paurong sa Miyerkules, Marso 8, 2006

Here he is again: staring at a magical screen with lots of rants inside him, striking keys to enter letters and to construct drivels. He is thinking that this blog thing would be better if he will speak in third person since he already has a freak-out about always using the first person. He is sitting there with a radio beneath him listening to oldies.

He is a type of a fifteen-year-old teen with lots of thoughts inside out. He loves writing but doesn’t like writing at all; he prefers blogging than writing. Why? Because on writing, his left hand is totally tormented due to the tight grip, while on blogging, ten fingers are working for him and they do not give up easily since there is no grip thing at all! Well, he is used to be called “weird” by most of his classmates but not by now. He is odd in the sense that he has this idealistic mind (salute to his former Journalism and Research teacher) behind his strong personality (salute to his recent English teacher).

What else? He is a romantic type of guy (salute to the girl who admired his performance as Hamlet). He has the guts on studies but is lazy (salute to his Chemistry teacher). He often offends his Social Studies teacher when it comes to certain matters specifically the period of Renaissance and the pronunciation of bourgeoisie (that’s bour·geoi·sie).

* * *

11:15 pm

He is still up. At this moment, things are perfectly swiveling in his mind and he thinks he can’t take it any longer. He is stunned by the news that someone close to him has left this morning. This person has to go to Canada. A half-world away from him. This person became a close friend of him perhaps because of this girl whom they’d appreciated much. He is thinking of this person he calls “tol” (or utol which is equivalent to the English word brother). His tol has to go and he can’t do anything about it. What he knows it that his tol is mad at him and he really doesn’t know the reason why. They became friends without meeting each other. They became friends through text messaging. For him, this person is still his tol. He will miss his tol. He surely will.

He’s listening to one of his favorite songs lately. He doesn’t know the exact lyrics of the songs especially because of its being solemn. Yes, he tends to feel a pensive sadness. He cannot move. He just wants to stay where he is. He wants to wait. Wait for the person to be naive enough to fetch him. His stomach is not feeling well right now yet he doesn’t like the idea of going downstairs to go to the CR.

He is cheerfully optimistic. He doesn’t want to sleep and his eyes are agreeing with him. He is thinking of something but cannot directly encode what his brain is dictating. However, he is still up right now…being afraid of tomorrow. He is still worrying about school but so far fixing things up. He’s not the troublesome type of guy you can see on the corridor bullying or ultimately scorching weak people. He is a smart guy with talent in writing, as they say; acting, as they say; and he has a nice voice over the telephone, as they say. He is still worrying about everything. Day by the day he has this deep grudge within him which cannot be taken easily. He will still live as long as oxygen exists.

He remembers that he wasn’t able to go to school today. He feels tipsy. He doesn’t drink alcohol and had never tried such. One time, last month, he was tempted to drink gin but was hindered by the consequences. He doesn’t like consequences being screwed up. It’s just that. But then he was able to stroll to a computer shop to go online and to make himself a blog for him to open up about. Still, his mind is wandering.

The phone rang five hours ago. He picked it up and knew suddenly that it was his friend. She told him that she was entirely distracted by her situation. He’s imaging having a boyfriend and at the same time having a suitor whom he loves… He expresses that it is hard to explain. It has been a headache for him for ages already. He seems to be an avid viewer of the seem-to-be television drama series of his friend. Still confused, he wants to locate the guy who’s wooing her friend. He thinks that he has to know the guy for better understanding.

The song he is listening to right now is “High” by The Speaks. He likes it but he cannot say that it is one of his favorite songs. He cannot recall the first song he considered as his favorite, and his last song as well. This song is pretty much beautiful in terms of the music, rhythm and lyrics. But why should he talk about a thing he doesn’t like? Perhaps he just want to express his thought. He has many things kept up on his mind. Too much ideas he doesn’t know how to use. He wants to play the guitar but he has a big problem. Not having no fingers to do the plucking but that he is left-handed and it would be really hard for him to play the said instrument. He really want to play the guitar. And he also wants to write songs. But he first have to learn the guitar.

It appears to him that it is a countdown to the next day. The clock is ticking too much faster than expected. His writing looks as if it will have no end. He wants to shout. He wants to fly high up in the sky. He wants to sleep but his mind is telling him not to. He wants to gab with someone yet he is alone. Alone. Alone. As said in the song playing on the radio, solitary room. So afraid to show his feelings? That ironic to him. He loves expressing things. He usually keep on saying whatever pops on his mind and often discuss it thoroughly. Luckily, he is not yet tipsy right now. He is not dizzy yet have the feeling of being depressed. He doesn’t know why.

He thinks that the clock is fooling him. He assume that time is running so fast that he cannot do everything he wants to. Just like his life. So fast. It was just yesterday when he have started to walk, to talk, to read, and to write. But now look at him. He looks as if he is a grown-up man. Yet too young. He has many things to go along yet. He wants to stay calm for the meantime and just wait for whatever life may or can bestow. Just like as the song goes, dream is his reality. He has many aspirations in life. He wants to stage a play. He wants to act on a theater. He wants to write a song. He wants to write a poem. He wants to write a novel. He wants to read more books. He wants to be happy in his life even just for a while. He doesn’t want to consider life to be as cruel a predator. He wants to treat life as a friend who would always be there for him.

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