The weekend that was.....


I spent my weekend sulking at home. Got up late saturday morning, spent almost the entire afternoon cooped up in my room watching TV. Don't ask me what I watched because I don't remember. All I know is that I was watching...something. Sunday was pretty much the same, got out of bed late, didn't do anything I didn't have to do and watched TV without really watching.

I know what some people would say, too much idle time isn't good for anybody. But I never really listen. I'm one of those extremely stubborn people who never learn. Too much idle time you say? I say there's never enough time for idleness. Besides, just because I stayed home doesn't mean I was idle anyway. I was busy...busy thinking.

The weird thing really is that I wasn't thinking of anything new. In fact, what I was pondering on was something that's been on my mind for the longest time....

Why I do what I do.
Why other people do what they do.
How I won't do what I shouldn't do.
Why I give a damn in the first place.

No TG, if you're reading this, I won't be providing details. This is as far as I'll go.

Suffice to say that I was thinking of something. Suffice to say that, as always, I didn't arrive at any answer.

Which means I'll probably go back to thinking about those things yet again.

"Its a damn cold night trying to figure out this life
Wont you take me by the hand take me somewhere new
I dont know who you are, but I...I'm with you."

- I'm With You (Avril Lavigne)

I can't get the song out of my head...not that I wan't to. I'm not a big fan of Avril because, well I don't like the image she projects...so young and so angry. I'm like, what the hell are you angry about? If you're that angsty at THAT age, give it a few more years and see what you'll become.

But anyway, I like the song.

I originally thought of the title, "The Happy Phantom" because, well, at the time, I couldn't get the song out of my head (by Tori Amos, in case you're unaware). Also, I was blissfully basking in the thought of being a phantom, unseen, unnoticed and not really making an impact on anyone. At the time, it seemed like a good idea and I didn't see anything wrong with that.

Lately however, I've been thinking...its tiring to be a phantom...and it's not anything I should be happy about either.

Its has never been my habit to make new year resolutions. This year though, I did make two. Unfortunately, after less than 10 days into the new year, I've already gone against both resolutions. I should have known better, I never should've made them in the first place.

As I was cleaning my room a few days before 2003, I found proof of just how much I love writing. I had around 5 mini-notebooks that served as my diary/thought-book/doodle book/scratch pad, one oversized notebook which holds letters to people and several pages of loose paper with scribblings on them. I often find myself thinking of something I just had to write down regardless of what I'm doing and where I may be. Which explains why I have several of those mini-notebooks, they come in really handy whenever something has to be written. Other times I write to people without ever intending to send them out. There's an undeniable freedom that comes with expressing my thoughts without explicitly communicating them.

But I wouldn't call myself a writer. Sure, I write, but then again, doesn't everybody? To be a writer means your work has gone through some form of credible criticism...and I've never even had any of my works published (okay so maybe I did, but that was in Grade School! And I was my own editor...). In fact, I dont think I've shown my works to more than 10 people. Ever.

I've tried poetry, but my works never had that clarity in ambiguity and coherence of words needed to be effective. They can be vague, they can also be detailedly accurate...but never both vague and accurate. I have short lines, my "thought blocks", one or two lines of words that sound fine and mean a lot to me personally but only because they stem out of something I was thinking of. If I were to share it with someone who has no background of what I was thinking at the time, they would make no sense at all. These are usually descriptions of scenes I have in my head, scenes that never quite become full stories. I've tried often to build them up, to expound and make them into something that makes sense, but they never work. I end up wanting to revert back to the original line(s) because they sound better and they feel better.Quite opposite to my short thought blocks, are the really long, unedited letters to people. I write to people who, for one reason or another, I can't (or won't?) talk to. This I think is part of a long prescribed treatment to pent-up thoughts and emotions. Write them down, let them out and communicate...only I don't send out mine. Defeats the purpose you think? Maybe so, but I've grown accustomed to writing and afterwards, putting my pen down, closing my notebook and forgetting about it. Until the next letter that is.

I write, and my reasons for writing are purely selfish. I write for myself, so I can look back and know that at one point in my life, this was how I felt and this was what I was thinking of. I don't write anything for other people's consumption, because let's face it, they don't do much for my "reader". I write, but I can't create anything magical for those who read what I write.

I write, but I never quite know how to end.