Human Nature

It's good how well my imagination works. I seem to foresee what will be on the Concert. My heart is burning, I can't wait though really I am. At this early I'm thinking how I can slip through the security and sneak backstage and how to get a closer look on the Guys. I don't actually know how it's like to go to a big concert and it's my first time to go to where it'll be held. It feels like a Sheep in the Big City Adventure. I commute but I don't really go to places further than Bacoor and Dasmarinas without company. Dang! And have I thought I got everything figured out but well... I eventually will. Weird World's giving out Meet & Greets to member and I haven't joined the club yet. Hell! I still haven't got my tickets 'cause my concert money still isn't complete but fate will find a way. I believe The Alchemist and I trust the Soul of the World will conspire with the rest of the universe because I know they know how much I want this and how important this is for me. I sound like I'm desperate, don't I? Well, I am.

Does anybody really do good deeds without wanting anything in return? I think I do now. God forgive me for being weary but I think this give and take cycle isn't working for me. I don't ask much and I don't really ask for anything unless there's a need for it but... Why forsake me now? I wouldn't have done the same thing or would I now? I'm getting so tired of this having-to-do-things-for-yourself-since-no-one-else-will occurrence. Will it never stop? I'm not talking about only one person here but a lot of that surround me. Heck! And another, what would you feel if you were told you looked like a hooker in one of your favorite pictures which you think was cute? If I thought that way of other people, I wouldn't have said it. People can be too honest while most are don't. Now tell me who to believe.

That second part of the post suppose to be my entry for the other day but I didn't feel like blogging that day. Whoot-whoow! My Google Ad's not doing any good so is my chatterbox; Maybe placing my message board on The Next Page wasn't a good idea after all though it helped a lot with keeping the blog from looking messy and mixed up. It's one inevitable reality I'm facing: Nobody would care to read your blog if you're not famous. Yeah, I'm comparing my journal to that of this celebrity's. It's not that she started to blog a lot earlier than I ever discovered the existence of such thing but you can tell by the comments she's getting on her every post. Not everything's so interesting but everybody loves to read her posts. I'm being bitter and jealous. And the fact hits me again: No matter how many people you got around you, you can't get every single person to care as much as you would want them to. You always care too much for people but get very little or none at all of the care you'd love to be reciprocated by those you care for. Wordy? They deserve it!

My dad gave me 500 bucks yesterday, seems to be a good compensation but still can't buy me the things I want for Christmas: front row tickets, membership and backstage pass. My dream gadgets can wait and they are way too expensive for me at the moment though i have the people to buy them for me like my Mommy (Poppa's mother who's in Germany), Tita Cris (Poppa's sister and also my ninang who's in Colorado), Daddy K (Poppa's step father also in Germany), Kuya Lito, Ate Love and Ate Lovely (Poppa's cousins who take care of us when we still in Manila when we were still little, who's now in Canada) and loads of Godparents everywhere but I haven't the guts to ask 'cause that'll be like stripping off my pride, devouring me alive... I don't wanna give anybody the power to make SUMBAT of me. I'd rather have nothing and I've always been bitter about promises ever since they promised me that piano when I was little. I was forced to learn that dreaded thing and was told I'll be bought a piano. Then I learnt and loved playing the instrument but there was no piano, never came. Until I've grown up to be what I am today, lost almost everything I know about it and the skill but still there is no sign of that piano. I'm just a dreamer now. Ugh, memories!

Now, you can see my entries are more of rants than raves. Blogging, indeed, is an angst mark'd art. Piece of literary work that speak mostly of youthful apprehension, repressed emotions, and undying devotion... Haha!