No more

Succumbing to thoughts of afar

Filling the heart with some hope to entitlement

To an object which once had a name

But now is a testimony of what's long gone

"I remember" is but a subtle attempt

To craft into the present what has been

Time has just perfected its turn

Giving what has been the label, Memory

September 22nd blabber

I honestly don't know what to write, but I wanna write. I kind of even need to. Well, I badly need to. I need to "declutter" my head, spill from it thoughts, and well, organize these thoughts. It's not that I don't like thinking, it's just I've got too much in my head now. And they should be filed properly.

It's nice having to have thoughts. It really feels nice. It makes me feel ecstatic to have all these things roaming and flying in my head. (Honestly, I feel alive with all these presence within me). Another thing about me is that I feel at a high state of being, at a more responsible, at a more useful, worthy, et cetera mode when I have all these things I need to accomplish! Yea, for real. 

I feel like I am someone for something.

It feels bad having to do nothing. To think of nothing. To be dull and rusty. Right? It feels like whatever organs and heartbeats and oxygen that have been invested in you all go for nothing, nowhere. And so, it feels alive knowing that whatever you have in you contribute to higher and more important purposes, things which are beyond yourself alone.

It's true that life isn't a very easy adventure. But the fact that it is an adventure itself is well, wow, a really very great thing, isn't it?! To realize that you're in something as chaotic, dramatic, multi-everything existence, it feels great. And I wonder how it could be something so beautiful-- but it feels good to be alive. To breathe. To love. To grow. To be vulnerable to death. To be capable to live. 

Hooray to randomness.

Within and Monsters

There's this thing about looking within. About the courage to see through yourself and what you might be covering. Every one of us is shielded by our skin. And maybe we thought that's enough to stop them from looking.

But time will make things that we keep apparent. Sooner or later, our thoughts will be unearthed. And maybe they'll find what's been kept and buried. Or maybe it will come out from the things that we said.

It won't matter really what people might think. What matters is that you know what's within. It won't matter if they'll find it surprising. What will matter is that you're ready for it.

You know your own monsters. You know we all have it somewhere. Deep within the soul when we dig deeper.

Just don't let it be the one found in your core. It's there but it doesn't have to eat you whole. Maybe you can calm it or deal with it sooner. Maybe it will leave you and leave you with a peaceful soul.

Places within the pages

I started to shrink to unreality these past few days.

When I say unreality, I mean dreams and imaginations or worse, places within the pages. Yes, I don't think they are good for the soul, well anyway, but they could be good, too. I don't really know.

People were given minds that could compensate for their ideas and ideals, so they should be maximized, not be slightly used and not be overused because both extremes could be dysfunctional. Anyway, yeah, I think I may be overusing this little brain sometimes, or probably I just have a huge brain especially made for me, 'cause as far as I am aware, I don't feel any screw loosening yet (And, I could contradict myself easily). Another anyway, I want to go to places I've never been, especially places that could hardly be real because I thought it would be romantic. When you say romantic, it doesn't have to be with a guy, right? A place could be called romantic even if there were no people there (or maybe because couples will actually love it being there? ugh. Devalues the worth).

I'll start with: RIGHT NOW I WANT TO GO PLACES I'VE NEVER BEEN. Imma rant this time.I want to go to Pemberley, to North Carolina (where, interestingly, I've found most love stories written), Green Gables, Maryland, where else, hunh? Oh yes, where was the Secret Garden located? I just wonder to what castle did Cinderella leave her slipper, or the coast roads where protagonists took their twists and turns. The house on the little prairie and other places where Laura Ingalls-Wilder spent her colorful youth. I'm thrilled just thinking about the Cemetery of the Books! Many else. What will I do there then? Just walk along these places and leave my footprints there, or probably live there for a week or two or a year or just a little while will do. Just try to witness what could have happened or what change would there be if a single feature from the place is located differently.

I don't want to imagine though that I am Lizzie Bennett or Anne Shirley, and try to mimic and live their lives. I just want to walk these places as myself rather than pretend be the characters I love. I don't know but I just don't feel like imagining I am a certain character, especially those that I love, it feels creepy and insane. Sometimes, I thought it would be better if I have been there for me to really be a part of the places and for my presence to be a part of other people's imaginations, but I realized I am doing a greater part being the thinker, being the one who imagines it all.

Aww, okay. My thoughts become so excited it explodes to randomness.

Sometimes, I think it does well to think of things which are alien to us, some of these, they really do exist. Of course, some of these are just imaginations. It doesn't do that because we don't see them, they are already fictional. Some exist somewhere within the wide earth, while some of these they do exist, but they are found within the worlds within our thoughts, and some were already part of what's past kept alive by memories and memoirs.

Someday, I know I will get to these places given the chances in life. Well, I could only go physically to the places which are literally real. And who knows who I'm going with. Hahaha

(As I was ending this blog post, I felt like there's music playing, probably the OST for Anne of Green Gables animated. Hahaha)

Some places in the classics (I don't know if the others are just replicas or they are the real ones):

ANNE SHIRLEY'S LIFE:

Anne's fictional room

Green Gables (fictional, I think)

Avonlea entrance

Road along Avonlea

Obviously, the places in Anne's life are my favorites. You've gotta read Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea to understand. Unfortunately, I haven't read the other books yet.

Here are others:

The ever dear SECRET GARDEN (fictional)

North Carolina beach

Little House on the Prairie (production design for the film, I think)

Pemberley (not sure if legit)