... strikes me as strange how I can somehow tolerate someone who has all these characteristics that I far from adore.

Despite his so-called "knowledge", no, he does not understand what I am going through. I don't rant and rave about how pitiful my life is (compared to the standard angst-ridden teen), but if there's anything I cannot stand, it's a know-it-all who believes everything has a simple solution. The regurgitation of someone else's ideas does not make you intelligent. It just makes you look like an even bigger idiot when you meet someone who truly does have a brain.

A wise acquaintance of mine mentioned how he left a "trail of carnage" from his younger years, the signs of which are somewhat visible in a person I am currently involved with. I know it sounds somewhat stalker-ish of me, but out of "curiousity" I read some of his older comments, and hey, what do you know, quite a few women whose comments insinuated his plugging capabilities. I would love to take a stand right now and say I will not be part of this attempt to seemingly bed as many women as possible, but if I were so headstrong I'm pretty sure I would have elbowed him by now. This fixation he has with the physical is extremely disturbing. Where I've felt the threads of elation in the first weeks of a relationship, he's already managed to make me feel insecure about the way I look. Reading this post back after a month or so, I might chastise myself for not ending it sooner. But...

Maybe I should give it another few weeks.

It'll be quite interesting to see his reaction if he stumbled onto this blog. I suppose my argument is that I will not raise my voice at him (directly), thus creating the need for an alternative means of venting. Haha.

Ciao babes. [57]

... think I may have made a mistake.

Obviously, this is one privilege I shouldn't have taken.

But change is what is wanted, change they will see.

Week 1:1 (58)

It's not very often that actually realise that I'm getting myself into a tight situation; more often than not I just find myself in it (or so my unconscious mind may want me to believe). With merely a few more weeks to spare, I am, quite frankly, screwing myself up. No, I am not working to my true potential. No, I am not doing any of the work I should be doing. Why, yes, I am spending much too much time on other aspects in my life that I dare say will not have as big an impact as my studies will. Not that, of course, those other aspects don't matter. I am, for example, in trouble emotionally (but not emotionally troubled) in the sense that I am basically handing out my heart on a silver platter, some would say, prematurely. But I suppose my reckless manner, based on the fact that I am leaving in less than a year and possibly for more than a few, just makes me want to go "nyeh" instead of bothering to weigh the pros and cons about it.


He and I were talking about his past -and I am well aware that he has one, thank you very much- being littered with much speculation and doubt concerning his abilities to truly commit in a relationship. As much as my rational self would want me to take these not-so-well-disguised warnings into consideration, again (say it with me): nyeh. I admit that as fast as this is going, I truly do care about him, the degrees of which I shall not enclose here. But it's only fair that I get to enjoy the ups of being in a spontaneous (if not precarious) relationship.

Speaking of ups, those down-days are over and done with, or so I thought. I know there may be a certain danger element involved in me mentioning this faction of my life in such an exposed manner and place, but maybe -just maybe- seeing it in black and white would ease my soul just that tiny bit. I do honestly wish that things could have been different, but at the same time I'm glad they weren't. If my past relationship wasn't such a monstrous debacle I doubt I would revert back into my devil-may-care attitude regarding any kind of intimacies, be it on a romantic level or otherwise. Not saying I'm playing the field or anything (although it did seem veeeery appealing at one point or another), but I do adore the freedom and liberation that comes only with the realisation that you are no longer obliged to do... well... anything!

And here is where my maniacal and/or hysterical laugh should come in.
As the great R. Lopez would presumably say: "Join the dots and make the picture of the..."

a) liberated woman, burning her bras in celebration of female empowerment;
b) adolescent boy who just found his brother's latest subscription to Playboy;
c) kitten, chewing on the remains of a monitor lizard crushed to death by a passing steamroller.

Although it's safe to say he is most likely to say c) I quite enjoy the mental image of a).

I just wonder why anyone would want to risk having sagging mammary glands for the sake of liberation. Certainly wouldn't do well for my self-esteem, looking like I have man-breasts (vernacular: moobs).

Anyways. What a high note to finish on.

Ciao babes.

... still amazing how, in Brunei, you could be connected to someone, not necessarily by blood, but connected nontheless. Although I am quite thankful for to have found out about the most recent connection I've made.

Impulses somewhat intimidate me. Not my own, but others' -or rather, one person's. It's refreshing to have someone be so open about themselves, and be so wonderfully candid, but with the pace things are potentially able to go, I'm afraid someone may get hurt.

But then again, it may be the best thing to have happened in a long time.

I'm starting to feel an uneasiness walking about school; I know this is all part of senioritis: feeling both terrified of the contemplation of growing up, but excited with the thoughts of being out in the world.





If I were omnipotent, menstrual cramps would not exist.

Sweet dreams.