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Okay for the past few days a lot of people got angry at me. Why?

Because I joked around too much.

I offended them.

Wrong timing.

And well some of them think that I’m just a bitch. Okay go ahead think that way. All I can say is that I’m trying to be happy even though I’m in deep shit. Deep shit meaning that you probably won’t see me in the next couple of months… Probably.

I think the people who I meet… They have this impression that I’m “suplada” or too childish. And the thing is that I would like people to like me but I would never change the way I am for them. Having that suplada air and being childish or childlike is the real me (yes, it’s not just an impression) and though I can hide it I will never change those attributes because I am comfortable with myself.

Also having people like you because you hide your true self too much or you pretend that you’re someone you are not, is somewhat unfulfilling because in the end you’re acting the way they want you to not the way you are supposed to.

There are two types of transformations or changing. One is when you change because you have to for example you have an attitude problem. This is when you have to change for the better or else no one will ever want to be friends or have a relationship with you.

The other type of transformation is when you change yourself just to compromise and to submit to people’s expectation.

Do they sound the same? If so, I’m telling you that there is a fine line between those two.

Anyway, with my being suplada… I don’t think that I really am that suplada. I admit that I can be suplada at first but that’s just because I don’t let my guard down that easily when meeting new people. I don’t know but I have this problem or this way of thinking that you should not put yourself out there and have no defense. I have trust issues that goes way back in my childhood which I would not like to talk about anymore. And for a side-note, I might have inherited it from my mother. (But she’s far more suplada! lol)

This suplada thing is my defense, I guess. It’s an attribute that I still hold on to and is actually getting weaker. When I entered college and met my friends, I became more open and my defense against new people lowered and my issues suddenly are not that much of a problem anymore…

But I digress, what I’m trying to say is that I am me. Being suplada is who I am. I am somewhat childish and it might annoy some of you but bear with me that’s not the only trait that I have. I can also be demanding! Mature when needed! Obssessive-compulsive! Funny! (When I’m in the mood) Moody! Too dependent on others! Deep! Silent! Random! Friendly! (Again when I am in the mood.) Optimistic! Pemisistic! Realistic! Idealistic! Silly! Cheerful! Bubbly!

I don’t know how accurate are these descriptions that I have for myself but I’ll let you be the judge.

Eating pistachio ice cream in front of the monitor, I realized that I am once again in love. But heartbreaks are too sudden and words are not enough to express something so strong.

I don’t know why a series of rejections do not make my spirit waver. I also don’t know why my friends and my family have insisted that the object of affection feels the same way as I do. If he really does feel the same way why does he hurt me so much? Why does he feel that there is a need to look for someone else?

He told me that I was childish, an immature, spoiled girl who has not yet blossomed into a fine lady. I admit that I may come off as a little childish but I’m not that immature. I may have a different understanding or perspective than others of my age… But I don’t see anything wrong with it… He told me to reflect on this and surely I have. And I decided that as long as I’m comfortable with myself and as long as I’m having fun, there is no need to change and be  that lady.

But I’m not closing doors just yet.

There is a right time for everything. And hurrying things up might not be the best choice. The same advice can be given to me in another aspect. I’m in such a hurry sometimes whether it be on work or on stuff like these… Maybe sometimes I should stop and think for awhile… Take things slow and see what will happen.

As I watch the pistachio ice cream melt… I realize that whatever happens, no matter how much he makes me cry, I’d be there beside him as his friend and as the one who truly cares for him through thick or thin.

I admit that I would do anything to achieve the completion of my photography portfolio even if it means that I have to sneak my camera inside the house of the holy.

A woman in a blue tank top asked us if we read the signs: “Strictly No Shooting, No Cameras Allowed.” Yes, we did but we still have to shoot because that is what we study. It was a photo shoot opportunity, an opportunity to express ourselves, to tell a story and to record history.

Is it really that bad?

Why should photographers be asked of a permit every time they take pictures? Why should a stand or tripod not be allowed? I mean I don’t have the habit of using a flash why not allow me to use the tripod? Why is it that every time a security guard sees a DSLR they always come to you and ask you to stop taking pictures because you do not have a permit but they ignore those who take snapshots with their digital cameras?

Do photographers always have to pay or to have a permit in order to capture art?

What is it that brings the heart-broken and the lovestruck towards the wonders of the night? Is it because this sense of romanticism and loss is so overwhelming that they become nocturnal? Or is it because they are drawn into the mysteries of the beautiful night sky?

Like Van Gogh, some of my friends have painted the Starry Night during midnight conversations. I, too may have painted it, might have talked to them about a wonderful but fleeting feeling or a sudden sense of depression or loss.

It totally sounds emo but sometimes people just feel this way. And you just have to vent, talk about it.
So are you in for another midnight session or have you slept already? Are you already dreaming a blissful dream?

This entry has been inspired by three of my friends. Different stories from three different people.
One who is in love with his friend, one who is obsessed with a friend and one who is at a lost with someone so close and yet so far away.

These three friends I have come to know because of their feelings towards their muses. Three ladies who have struck them, who caused them sleepless nights of conversation with me and their other friends who are also searching for that kind of spark.

Listening to them, my envy to those who are in love has diminished. It’s like they love for me. Somehow I feel their pains and their joys, as well.  It’s like love is electricity and it is flowing through all of us. And even though I’m only a spectator of things, I am happy that I have partaken in these series of events as an adviser or just someone you could tell everything to.

To them, I wish that fate would be on their side and if ever they need me I’ll gladly help.

A friend from the old days, high school days in particular visited my place last Friday, November 28, 2008.

This friend whom I will call Blake ‘The Communist’ is one of those friends who you go out with and then spend hours, walking and sitting around benches in the mall or park, just talking. Blake is my conversation buddy. I like talking to him a lot and sharing insights with him. Until now, even though the world and the people around us had change and is still going through that change, we still have this sense of camaraderie that bonds us even though we don’t see each other often.

I remember this incident at the mall one time, when I was searching for gifts to give during that Yuletide season and I saw him walking. Blake had this distant look on his face, as if meditating. So I came up to him and said hi.

It was unusual for me to do that. I don’t like saying hello, how do you do and all that to people whom I went to the same high school with. I didn’t need to catch things up because I don’t give a damn about what happened way back and what’s happening to those people I left during those dark days. All I care about are the people whom I have a connection with like Blake ‘The Communist.’

So Blake’s face started to lighten up, he smiled and then started talking to me. We ended up conversing while I shop. When I looked at the watch, it was 9pm which was the regular closing time for malls. And to think I saw him around 5pm. Time flew by so fast while I was with him.

Now that I was able to spend some time talking to him. I’ve finally gotten to know him much better. It was so weird and so fast. Because I pictured him as someone who is a fighter. A fighter of what he believes in, his ideologies, his statements but seldom his acts. Anyway, yeah so he is a fighter. But I’ve never seen him in love.

Last Friday was like the first time I actually saw someone fall.

And it was surprising to see Blake in that situation. All giddy and then depressed the next moment. It was quite a sight when he walked into our house to see the one that would cause him sleepless nights. He was captured by her beauty and now I’m trying to make ends meet. I want them to get together.

But as the story progresses I realize that I don’t really have that much will to match them. I mean, I’m so bored with life and so busy with matters of consequence. that I just think that maybe I should just go on my own. Talk to them if necessary but avoid being too involved in the situation. After all, it’s their life, they have to live it and do what they have to do.

Anyway talking to Blake made me miss the old days. I also miss those days when I was more active and more driven. Today I’m just frustrated with no outlet and no  resources to fuel my anger.

Sometimes I just question myself, ‘Why am I angry anyway?’

Imagine someone you love, disappear.

You’ve seen the signs. The coldness, the silence and the black butterflies.

Several weeks ago your beloved was with you in the comforts of your home. You two are engaged in something of huge importance, let’s say a project or a report. You two paused from what you are doing. Then you smiled at him. He looked at you with that usual lazy eyes, he’s very sleepy. He’s too tired, he didn’t sleep last night. He’s too busy and wanted to take a break away from everything, from his responsibilities, from obligations, from his tasks and maybe even from you.

The following days have been so cold. He’s stopped calling, texting, sending messages from whatever means possible. Lately you’ve been noticing that you always had to start the conversation, that you were always the first one to say hi, that he’s beginning to treat you like you don’t even exist.

Sometimes you wonder if this realization is just your imagination… So you continue doing whatever it is that takes your mind off of those speculations.

One day while at school he told you, “I’m going to attend this special occasion so I have to cut class.”

You just smiled at him, you said, “okay.”

Worried that he’s falling behind  in class, you jot down notes for yourself and also for him.

The professor then dismissed the class earlier.

On the way home… You see him across the street with his friends. Judging from the way he walks, the way he talks (yes you can hear it from across the street), he’s drunk. He spits on the sidewalk and it lands on the pavement. He then puts to his mouth something that you’ve never seen him hold before. A cigarette. He smokes it like a pro, he inhales and then exhales these smoke circles. They fly towards the sky, towards you in a playful fashion. You looked from afar and noticed that they looked like black butterflies.

You stood there, across the street. You sighed inhaling the black butterflies.

Tomorrow won’t be the same. Something died inside of you.

For the past few weeks I have been shouting Video Blog! or just VLOG! when something interesting catches my eye… and when I really really want to make a Video Blog out of it.

When you are in a supposedly art school… Everything you see will catch your eye. Mostly these Kodak or Canon or Nikon (whatever) moments are when you are with your friends or when in class and then you had to perform a really short skit about a crime. These events are fun to shoot, fun to edit and also fun to watch!

But note that I am so busy with school that the quality of the videos might be subpar.

Oh yeah and by the way you can watch my videos in Youtube or Multiply.

For the several months that have passed my life has been like this….

…a tv static. I’ve been much too busy to even care about writing and I’ve been too much blinded by the notion of falling that I have forgotten about what I truly care for which is art.

When I was a child I always dreamed of the image above. Come to think of it, those dreams were more of a nightmare. I wake up screaming and crying, sometimes even kicking and having tantrums. And when I really think about… I think that this tv static represents a dull life without color, without movement. There is nothing to anticipate and nothing to see. And even as a child, I hated living a boring life. That is why at an early age, I began to imagine. Trying to make stories, trying to talk to my dolls and tell them who they are, what they will do, what will happen to them and the consequencs that will befall to them.

But as of now… I am living in that box, my life evolved into a tv static for personal reasons, one of them being my college life. The ironic thing is that I go to a supposedly art school. But instead of unleasing my creativity and improving my craft. My creativity reduced and my craft, the artworks that I produce are still the same as it was before. Anyway that’s what I want to believe. One of my closest friends tell me otherwise, Nyuu told me that I have improved so much in so little time. How come I can’t see it?

Anyway, this is my first entry and I’ve already told you, dear reader, so much. I can’t promise that this would be my permanent niche or that I will write regularly but who cares anyway? I’m doing this to satisfy myself and to evolve back to the writer or frustrated writer I once was.

See you in the next entries. Hopefully, I’ll be able to share my theories with you.

-The Frustrated Counter-Theorist signing off.