Humor in the Third Person Perspective

The memory of this day has gone. Lost in oblivion. Sad.

Funny.

Just earlier, I was lying on the brown couch otside, gazing up at the cloudy night sky, faint stars glistening, the humid wind blowing, and cars and tricycles with their automotive noise passing occasionally. I was thinking, thinking about the day which had just passed.

Then, I burst into a silent song which strangely fitted my state then:

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I was staring at the sky

Just looking for a star

To pray on or wish on

Or something like that

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I was having a sweet fix

Of a daydream of a boy

Whose reality I knew

Was so hopeless to be held

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And then the dove of hope

Began its downward slope

And I believe in the moment that

My chances were approaching to be grabbed

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But as it came down me

So did a weary tear

I thought it was a bird

But it was just a Paper Bag

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Hunger hurts

And I want him

So bad I could kill

‘Cause I know I’m a mess that he don’t want to clean up

I’ve got to fold

‘Cause these hands are too

Shaky to hold

Hunger hurts

But starving works

When it costs

Too much to love

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This song by Fiona Apple quite completely speaks for me and my mind right now. That’s all for this entry.

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(By the way, there was no paper bag that flew by me during that time, though I was expecting it) 5-19-05 _________________________________________________________________________________________

(In my annoying trying-hard British accent)

The excitement of my managing to make my father, who in the first place entered me, remove me from that Documentary Film-making workshop which I found horribly tedious and rather time-wasting (though he thought it was brilliant and would really be beneficial) has apparently faded throughout the point wherein I did and this moment.

(I love my uber-long sentences!)

Though, it was a bit of regret to leave, since the lecturer was the great British documentarist Maxine Baker, and a few signs have shown themselves that I’ll be greatly benefitted from it — Wa-hah! The large evil bangaw has made itself be trapped within the…erm…semi-sphere light dispenser! –or what ever you call it! Anyway, the workshop, if you look at it from afar, looks great and brilliant (what other words there are?), with that highly acclaimed filmmaker from UK and a class of professional as well as a few amateur documentarists. It looks impressive. Yes, that’s the word. And yet, when one such as, say, myself (I couldn’t think of anyone else to accord with what I’ve undergone) does join the class, hell, would she see how dull it is in there.

A workshop day of this week went much like this: I come in. The room is freezing (because Maxine likes it that way. Feel at home). I look for a seat which happens to be beside a particularly cono male in his twenties, and he start a conversation about the films that I like or if I really am interested with documentary film-making. I try my best then to put a stop to that conversation. Then Maxine begins talking to the class, seated in her chair, chattering without even the great enthusiasm or eagerness that I expect from people (or lecturers) like her to socialize with the class. She drones on and on about things I simply can’t relate to (and she doesn’t help me relate to them) and I open my notebook, let her words go in and out of my ear, and write about the things in my mind. This would go on for the rest of the day, only with such interruptions as documentary screenings (on VHS, I wonder why), lunch, breaks, and nothing else. During breaks, I leave the room that could do as a refrigerator and stay on the steps going to or from the third floor of the building, where it’s warm. There, in peace and warmth, I write, alone with nothing but my mind and notebook not to mention my pen to accompany me. There, I think, or if you may have it, dream.

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I sound annoying. I am such a teenager. I repeat, I hate being a teenager. I hate having too much to say about everything which are altogether annoying. I am annoying. And I’m annoyed at people who convince me that I’m not. What do they know?

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Hell. We’re going that way again.

Drama. Hah. That, I believe, is one of the most useless things in life. We could afford not to have drama, same as we could not having money.

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I don’t think that made sense. I don’t think anything makes sense, which brings us back to the other question: why are you reading this? If you’re sensible enough, you’d close this window now and leave me with my cynical ramblings. Or no. I was talking about the pseudo-sensibles. The NORMAL ones who tend not to care about anybody at all, except, positively, for themselves.

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What day is this? Why am I being like this? Is this what I think should be the new "trend" for the online thoughtdump? The downpour of puny pessimisstic thoughts ( I don’t know if I spelt the word right, please correct me if I’m wrong). Just pathetic.

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I stared at the monitor blankly, not knowing what’s next to write about. I can hear the rain from outside. That makes me happy. I haven’t felt rain since…oh. Yesterday. I think I should write something about yesterday.

What was yesterday?

18?

Nopes, that was this day. Or this day. (it’s 1:20am) 17 it is then.

Yesterday, I started with the workshop. My father woke me up five minutes to 8, and I and my stubborness (as well as sleepiness, if there is such word) decided not to get up just yet. Next thing I know, I was staring with still-sleepy eyes at the clock unliterally saying that’s it’s 5 past 8, then 20 past eight, half past eight, then an hour past eight, then two hours past eight. Me and my really hard head. But even with it, I still don’t get late for school. Actually, I decided that I don’t attend at all. That decision (I spelt it right ;)) was immediately changed as soon as I wake made to get up by my brother bursting into the lungga where I slept telling me that my father’s on the phone. So i finally got up, and then picked up the phone.

"Pris! Asan ka na?!" My father sounded like he found our cat sleeping in the CPU again.

"Pa, sori, nakatulog uli ako eh" Wow. Couldn’t think of any other excuse. Blame it on my just-awakened mind.

"Diba ginising na kita?"

Ok, I shall not continue that conversation since it would probably get dull and all so-uninteresting. Especially with the part when he asked my to look for his missing cellphone in the house and bring it with me as I go there after luch. Incredibly boring. Glad to not type it down. Besides, I’ve forgotten how it actually went anyway.

Anyway, the remaining members of the family in the house along with Ate Joy (new boarder, more on that later) ate breakfast. Now, if only I remember what we ate and talked about…Darn, that’s why it’s important to take notes! See how remarkable that simple conversation with your sister (I’m talking to myself) late evening Monday became? And that was because of the mere fact that you took notes.

Blah blah blah. Go on, sermoning self, as if it would be effective. Har har. That was Bianca, she’s possessing me, that little refrigerator. How I’d like to use this icepick on her. And of course, I’m being floaty and not myself again.

ANYWAY, after breakfast, I immediately changed into *snicker* walking clothes (panlakad, and I thought that was funny) and in the same manner left as well. My brother went to Greenhills. His "adventure", if you may, is a different stroy which I will not discuss at the next paragraph.

Fast forward. *vrrooomm* (is that the sound it makes?) I don’t want to say anything about what happened during the workshop except that I was so dehydrated then. After the workshop, I retreated to my father’s "office" (haha! He has an "office") and stole a few minuts online…until Ate Jett, my father’s new assistant came in (and that’s when it stopped being considered stealing) and had me off the PC because Bob has to check his e-mail. Bob is this big UK guy who dons this funny-looking fishing hat. That’s all I know about him besides the fact that he is Maxine’s favorite conversation partner during class. Meanwhile, while Bob was checking his e-mail, I stood infront of the large glass window overseeing the whole front of The Garage, watching people, and thinking…of that message which I had just read a few minutes ago.

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Now, I’m really reluctant to divulge anything of this subject for anybody to read. In fact, I’m not even going to. Even if it is what Salt-boy (if I may refer to you as that ;)) must have intended. Sorry, but I regard privacy very highly. That’s why I hate show business. Anyway…

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Bob had finally finished checking his e-mail, had put on his pretty hat, and had gone, leaving me solo with the PC. In front of it, I stayed, partly as something to do while waiting for my father and as something that might also mean taking advantage of the forces that provide me free internet. Unfortunately, I didn’t write a new blog entry then because to the time…erm…constraint? Is that how you use that word? because I was perfectly conscious and could not perform the automatic writing thing which I use for this blog, and because I had a happy happy chatmate. Chatmates serve as one of the largest distractions while online. Happy, happy Ate Ricci, whom I share my love for watermelons and goats with. She owes me goat cheese. I wonder if it is paper that makes goat’s milk sweet and their droppings visually like raisins.

Tinakas ko yung printing ng artwork namin sa Doodle entitled "Gatas ng Meme" featuring our ideas on how the cat-goat specie would look like. With a glass of milk. And a watermelon with a fourth sliced off. Not only does JesCom offer free internet, but free good printing as well! Whee!!!

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Now, the rain part. I finally gave up waiting for my father and left at almost 8pm. I exited the building, faring my best friend the security guard well, beheld the dark setting before me, and set off, turning right. Then I thought, must be the wrong road, so went the other way instead. And since then, I have grown to have fate on my second concepted choice in a decision (I spelt it correctly again :)). I raced along the road, afraid that the rain might keep up. I had no umbrella with me. It threatened me with the few drops that fell on my skin. I strode on faster, until I finally reached gate two, exiting the Atenean campus and getting onboard a jeepney to the UP campus. The wait was long before the transprt actually moved. I wrote during the wait, filled a page of my real thoughtdump which must have missed me about the day before, May 16. A rather uninteresting day. The only highlight was that the airconditioning in #49 Ricardo was finally revived. But then shut off again. Darn.

That was the so-called rain part. Very uninteresting, I know, but what do you expect from me?

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I think I should stop and publish this now. I love that word. "Publish" Reminds me of Thursday Next, who is besides Fiona Apple currnently my hero.

But before that I have to say this: I hate punctuation. And forgive me for any grammasites lurking around and small hints of the mispeling vyrus anywhere. It’s the keyboard’s fault…or mine. Hell.

…and sing this:

So keep on calling me names, keep on, keep on!

I’ll keep kicking the crap till it’s gone

If you keep on killing it would get me to settle and as soon as I settle I bet I’ll be able to move on…

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Fiona rocks.

2:25am, may 19 05

I just shutted off Mariah Carey for good. Earlier it was Jewel singing, but everybody’s time eventually comes and hers came at that matter, too bad for either of us. My mother has been enthralled at her new discovery tat the DVD player can play MP3s, so the whole day, we were listening non-stop to lots of her collection, albeit the momentary playing of unpleasants songs or such of unpleasant artists, say Mariah Carey for instance.

Bah! I feel like today is not a good day for writing another entry. My fingers don’t seem relaxed, my mind is somewhat tense, and the backspace key is being pushed too frequently.

Nonetheless, a bit of conditioning’s the only thing I feel that’s needed.

And I also feel like I’m committing alot of grammatical errors. Am I? Or am I only too paranoid?

I feel like that word (paranoid) is being used too much. Too much by teenagers. Stupid, self-absorbed, subjective teenagers. I hate being one of them.

I’m peeling. My skin has decided to start leaving me after being tortured by myself through terrible exposures to the sun (evil evil Yellow-face). I help it do. Roy’s peeling too, but the manner in which his skin decided to leave him is much more scary.

He’s peeling on his front lower leg. If you look at any of that of his closely, you’d find small skin bubbles all over, which is quite hair-raising even just by the thought of it. I told him that I think that was caused by his sweating from his daily basketball games with his boyfriends. Funny. I have to say something about this.

It is unusual to find Roy bonding with (ahem) humans of his own age and gender before this summer. I know Roy as a baby, soft and feminine. Even more feminine than my older sister and I. He has created imaginary creatures for companions, invented words and worlds on his various notebooks. Yet despite his juvenility, he is also, somewhat, a genius. Though not a skeptic, and a researcher. He does not really value knowledge, in my opinion. But what he does value is, how do I put it…talent?

I must admit, I have met no one else much more skillful in the guitar than my beloved baby brother. He also plays the violin (done several recitals in his school), the piano (has grown to play better than our father), the flute (which he quitted from playing after so short a time [the flute went broken, no replacements]), and computer games. That’s a different story. Here it is.

He, like many other of his and my age, is addicted to computer gaming. A cheater, searches for codes and walkthroughs for games he currently played everytime he goes online. But what makes him stand out here is that he can MAKE his own games. (God’s sake, this is my brother I am nothing beside him!) He’s a junior programmer. Besides those cheats that he downloads from the internet, he gets light programs as well which he may use to create his cute Jowy Dowy games (I’ll getto that later). Another fact is that my fater’s planning for him to enroll to school a month after classes start to further educate him in this field.

There is also this very annoying fact.

Let me make sure I got this clear: He doesn’t think (ponder, analyse, brood etc.)

and let me add this: he doesn’t know how to be a good regular school-student, like me…

…and yet he ends up top 1 in his class.

That’s the thing I’m annoyed about. He gets the dumbest classmates, the worst teachers, and the ugliest schools, therefore he also gets glory.

You may be thinking, why am I whining, he’s the unlucky one with that kind of environment.

Good point. I shouldn’t be envious of that. But if I may say, that encironment DID help him become the talented being that he is now. If not for terribly easy lessons, easily convinced and amazed teachers, as well as no competition, my brother would not have had time and motive to practice his music and begin programming.

That’s another of his gift. Luck. I don’t think I have that.

Anyway, where was I?

JOWY DOWY.

….Hmm.. I think I’m going to save that for another post. This has gone too long. So amusingly fast. Perhaps it’s my state during after-hours. I know I don’t usually write like this during the sun’s time. I feel very conscious then. I know many do as well.

Why did I discuss about my brother again?

Oh, yeah. His "ball-games".

Gosh, that sounded green. Ugly. I’m not like that, no. I’d like to keep up mine dignity of this kind.

Anyway, these days, Roy have been spending alot of time outside while we stay within the house suffering under un-sun-exposed heat. When he comes home, he’ll be all sweaty like hell. And the telephone rings much frequently for him too. He looks peculiar spending long with that plastic communicating machine’s reciever in his ear. It’s a strange thing to watch.

It’s a really funny thing, my brother growing up. I never thought that it would come to this before. But then again, I had no thought of what anything or anyone would be like in the future…

*spark!*

Idea, idea. I should start doing that. Perhaps it would help.

I was wrong about spaces in this service. It could make spaces, but not that super…

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…not super.

I only saw two movies earlier. Would have been three if I wasn’t submerged with my Narnia map, which by the way is ALREADY DONE!. I, without any choice, saw Love Actually again and no. My mistake. That was only one movie. And now "All I want for Christmas" is stuck in my head, playing over and over agin because I don’t know how the other lines go. BLEARGH.

I’ve been reminding myself repeatedly since yesterday to mention this here: SIN CITY ROCKS!!! ELIJAH WOOD IS SO COOL AS A CANNIBAL!!!

I didn’t finish the movies, but nevertheless I saw it so it adds to me just-seen movie list.

I already completed it. I already accomplished watching 21 movies this summer.May I list them down. Whee!!!

1. Star Wars Episode 2 (ugly)

2. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (my most favored)

3. Terminator 3 (I let my father choose the movie)

4. Luther (serious concentration interrupted by my mother who made fun of the characters’ costumes. "Murang bonnet." Bah.)

5. Lawn Dogs (charming)

6. Labyrinth (freaky, seen during the Overnight Anything-goes Moot at Gabe’s)

7. The Magdalene Sisters

8. Criminal (Diego Luna rediscovered)

9. Sister (I try very hard to convince myself that this was not scary. Somewhat successful.)

10. A Series of Unfortunate Events (where in hell was that code they were talking about?)

11. Mr. Deeds

12. Eulogy (second most favored)

13. Samurai Fiction (bitin)

14. Star Wars 4 (the Death Star destruction part with the X-wings was tedious)

15. The Laramie Project (This HBO film is BORING)

16. The Others

17. Interview with the Vampire

18. SIN CITY! (*hanga*hanga* I could use an hour or so viewing gore and utter coolness)

19. Be Cool (Uma Thurman and John Travolta. Don’t let Uma Thurman’s presence decieve you. The film’s ugly.)

20. Star Wars Episode 5 (my father’s most favored of the series)

21. Love Actually (twice)

Therefore that makes it 22. Whoopee!

Actually, Love Actually didn’t really appeal to me as much as it did, say, to Rachel (Hi and hail, Great Geekky Girl!) who had it in her favorite movies list. Love Actually is a romantic comedy of so they say 8 pairs with interconnected relationships, if that’s really what it is. OH MY  GOSH, IT’S ALREADY THREE. HOW TIME FLIES. Anyway, I think the all-star casting was just a plot to draw Christmas people to watch the movie. It’s not quite beautiful as, say, Eternal Sunshine is, but it is pretty. It’s not cute, it’s pretty. Hugh Grant should be sent to hell. He is such an attention-seeking pretty boy who may be somehow related to attention-seeking pretty boy Orlando Bloom who also should be sent to hell. I loved the porn-star pair. Must be difficult for their actors since they’re not quite known. I am reminded of Billy Boyd by the guy.

But, well, if I should really say, I could say that my real favorite pair among them’s The Colin Firth-Aurelia pair. I don’t know why. Go figure. I should stop discussing about this.

In fact, I should stop typing completely.

So I will. 5/14/2005, 3:10am

Erm…hey! Look what I’ve found!

http://altariel_notnormal.blogspot.com/

It’s that stupid old blog I was talking about! Funny too, it had so much wrongly spelled words in it. Oh, well. That was yesteryear’s self. Not my problem anymore.

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I can see, I have to be more loose when writing here, don’t I? Ok. I must be getting the hang of it. I SHOULD BE.

Boy, will this make my head hurt when time comes I read it again in the future.

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By the way, happy birthday, Lawrence. You’re sick-steen. Man, will it be terrible.

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So, I’d better start adjusting to…erm…writing casually…in this online…erm…thoughdump. Yeah. I can see that my previous post had so much errors and could use a little editing. It’s because I typed that only once, and I went over it only once, and I payed it attention only once too, that is for now. Whoa, did that make sense?

Oh well, may it be or not.

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The thing they do…in (aherm) diaries is write about the days which they have just spent.
For the sake of tradition, here goes: (after all, I too do this in my thoughtdump, nothing really new except calling it an "online dairy entry")

Day started sometime at 8. Was awoken by my mother and my sister (the older one and who is the REAL female), who sat on me, inviting me to eat breakfast. Or it seemed that I really didn’t have any choice. So I did. Breakfast was…gosh I forgot! (what the heck! So much for long-term memory capability) It was…it had eggs…oh yeah, the porkchops! Not really breakfast material, that’s the problem why it didn’t stick.
Anyway, we did a few chores afterwards, tidied up the living room, cleared the table from the TV’s view (or rather, our view of the TV), listened to a few of Kitchie’s songs–stopped, played the Jewel concert on the DVD player, watched for a while then saw "The Others" which freaked my other sister out (the FAKE female, or rather, the TRYING HARD female, or maybe, the WISHFUL-TO-BE female, but not gay) (I love you, Roy, my baby brother, I’m not trying to make a fool of you, you can go get even sometime soon. I’d welcome your slightly hilarious fury) (No, really, I love you, you know that. I just hope you don’t read this. AND YOU! Roy’s friend, I’d KILL YOU if you tell him) like every horror flick did to him, not matter how corny or unscary it is.
Hoom…
Then we had lunch. Then my mother and REAL female sister (I should stop doing that, it feels like it could really hurt, but I can’t delete it! I’ve gone so far!) went outside to make 12 pairs of pretty earrings while I did my Narnia map (Hello, TPON! I am LOYAL to you!) while listening to Dashboard Confessional, Riverdance, Diana Krall, and various artists singing John Lennon’s songs (RUFUS WAINWRIGHT IS THE COOLEST!)
Then, I saw the clock and Lo! it’s 6pm. We ate dinner and told ghost stories with Ate Joy (a new boarder) and her friend-guest, Doris (more on the name and my thoughts on that later) and teased each other unpolitely in the dinner table while eating. Try acting as normal as possible whenever there are guests, I told myself. That statement I would try no longer to patronize.
The day ended with our watching "The Interview with the Vampire" and my watching "Star Wars V" and I can’t believe these old scifi flicks which I was told to be so cool could be so tedious! The bore of watching space war scenes with poor special effects! I can’t believe I’ve become sensitive with those "eye-candies" I usually take for granted in modern cinema. But really…Yoda and Han Solo are the only ones who kept me awake. I laughed at Yoda while watching, comparing his warm, mischievous, not to mention cute Eps. V self to serious, slow, Eps. 1 self. The filmmakers must have skipped watching the old trilogy when making the new one. The style’s better off switched. Why didn’t they make anymore of that kind of dialogue in the newer series?! Would have been fun. HOW DID THE EPISODE 2 CHARACTERS END UP HAVING THAT KIND OF DIALOGUE?! Man! "I don’t like sand…"!!!
Hoom…
That was long. And I’m not even done yet. I have yet much more things to say about Star Wars, yes. Why couldn’t they make any more characters with such attitudes in the later Star Wars?! I think all we got were stuck up ones in the later episodes and not as much [i]happy[/i] ones. Would have been nice to have heard Han Solo-like dialogue while watching those movies.
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I have better finish with that. Anyway, my day ended there. Drained during the Narnia map-painting, which by the way still had to have much more attention payed to which condition I didn’t notice until then (TPON, I think I won’t be able to bring it on Saturday). There we go. Whew.
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Doris. *maniacal laughter* Hername immediately reminded me of my most favorite Filipino teacher of all time! YES! You got that, it’s our beloved Mrs. Doris Moreno!
…Ok, sorry. I have to explain. That idea just went in while podering while painting. NEVER IN MY WHOLE LIFE did I actually LIKE the Filipino subject UNTIL I had her as a teacher. Quite honestly, I didn’t expect that during the first days of the schoolyear, in fact, I even argued with her, FIRST DAY. She was this nationalist and I was trying to convince her that the country doesn’t have any hope in improving, see. In front of the class too. And I was partly speaking in English as well. It was one of my most proudest moments in Third year, next to my threatening to jab Einstein Taule with a pen.
But really, anyway, no one was ever a teacher of mine who had that kind of lesson plans she had. They were cool, I admit. If only were were decent enough a class to follow diligently. And her discussions. Besides her always twisting the words I say against hers to accord, I absolutely appreciate it when she talks in front. She may talk funny, but…what the heck, that adds to the factor.
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I should stop now. You may be now thinking I’m sick, adoring that teacher, so I’ll stop. But I don’t really stop for the sake of what others want. Like you do. But tonight is yours so.
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Here ends my chattering. Relief for me and you. 5/13/05.2:45am

Look at me.

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I must look very dull.

Two days had already passed and still nothing much of great significance of my anticipation has happened. Is this really how IT goes (whatever IT is)?

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No…

More time is what I need.

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and sleep.

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I hat this blog, you can’t even make decent super-spaces!

I’m not really like this when I feel not well without concern to my physical state. I’m not usually dramatic. I believe that it must be the—there, number 2, second mosquito I killed tonight. Its blood had smeared on my arm as I reached out to end its life—BLEARGH. I am so sick. Pathetic. Sentimental. Imperfect. Not to mention self-piteous. But no! I’m not self-piteous. I don’t even believe in self-pity. I should stop now before I spill anything unpleasant…that is, if you don’t consider what you’ve just read pleasant, more of such then.

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These are what you can read in my thoughtdump. A series of irritating rants, entries dedicated to my own self-absorbed being, hypocritical claims of unbearable humility…

Wah, shaddap!

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Better stop being theatrical. Not really usually like this really. Maybe I just need to get used to…writing things which other people can read. My thoughtdump only allows scans from all other eyes but thorough reading by mine eyes alone and only a few other else.

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I’m making no sense at all, I should quit again.

And by the way, I hate what they say about blog, that they’re "online diaries". Well, they’re not ALL "diaries"—oh, what the heck, it’s just a word, for God’s sake!

I am so paranoid.

Why am I still awake at this hour?

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There are several questions bothering me that have answers which I don’t think should be revealed publicly. This is one of them. And as you may have expected, you shall not know the answer. I shall abruptly leave the subject hanging.

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I had a blog once. It only had three entries: a welcome note, May 29 2004, and a closing note. Ate Reitch told me to quit blogging after telling me what had happened during her own blogging days. Traumatic enough, if I may say, and I understand. I quitted. Unfortunately, now, a sudden urge to display my somewhat elusive thoughts not really used to being exposed to unfamiliar eyes had surfaced. Reason unknown. Or else may not be easily explained through a few understandable words. Or else I don’t want it to be known.

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Oh, how time-wasting! You, random reader who probably has even a small amout of interest in me, reading a senseless entry as this! If you’d rather not waste any more time, you may quit reading, or else suffer sheer tedium and annoyance.

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Stop reading.

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Here comes the me part. It would probably not interest you since it shall not mention you in any way. People like being mentioned in other’s business. It pacifies their egos. No question about that.

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Nevertheless, I like mentioning other people when describing myself. That way, I’m not being biased. After all, who’d like my own say, anyway? I’d just flatter myself till kingdom come, and that won’t be of any good.

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Anyway, the most encouraging thing that I could ever (for now) tell myself is that I am my father’s daughter. My father is great, and not only I say so. I’m not alone, I can make sure of that. Who he is, it’s up to you to find out.

Next most encouraging thing is that (ahem) they call me Hannah Manaligod’s twin. Who would believe that?! I can’t even reach an inch of what she can do! Nonetheless, the HONOR to be regarded so! I consider myself the dark evil influence which sweeps with her shadow. Hannah, however, asks me, "How could I possibly live without you?" In my opinion, unbelievable. She has her head up in the clouds.

I am frequently pestered by one question: WHO AM I? I seek for answers mainly through things others say…about me. But more often, I think about it, or rather brood about it. In time, I usually come up with several discoveries, though they don’t really help. I figured the "other’s say" idea’s much better.

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Are you still reading?

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If you are, please do me a favor and tell me something about myself in what they call a testimonial, but it really doesn’t necessarily have to be a "testimonial". No, this is not a trick, I’m not into that. In fact, instead of a testimonial, you can send me even a mere message, that is, if you care enough to do so. And I don’t expect that you do.

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Some things for sure about myself are that I’m too used to using the English language to use it as almost a daily language, that I don’t like eating (much to Hannah’s dismay), that I own a notebook I treasure above all other material things that I own, that I don’t do poetry, and that I’m a girl, but not girly. Some things for sure.

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I’d better post this.

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It’s nice to know that even a few do care about your existence, isn’t it?

And by the way, forgive me for any grammatical errors committed.