The Great Lack

It the end, great silence speaks a whole lot.

Deception [ The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock]

As much as I hate to admit it... I have always (and would probably always be) been fooling myself for the past seventeen years of my existence. Yes, I have.

Too much frustration, somehow makes me feel way over my years, have been a constant company.

Things done which never seemed to make any sense, but I still am trying to not regret.

Saw things, heard things, read things, which I believed, and am still trying and wanting to believe.

Said things, written things, which never meant anything... At least I think they never did.

"Intellectual Paralysis" - Maybe I have this... Maybe I'm too much of a thinker that nothing seems to be conceived out of me but visions; visions after visions that never amount to anything.

I know things, I will things... But have I acted on them? *chuckles*

****

T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). Prufrock and Other Observations. 1917.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero, Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo. LET us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats 5 Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10 Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15 The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20 And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25 There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30 Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go 35 Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40 [They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— [They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”] Do I dare 45 Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all:— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50 I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55 The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60 And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare [But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] It is perfume from a dress 65 That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? . . . . . Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70 And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?… I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . . And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75 Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep … tired … or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80 But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85 And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, 90 To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— 95 If one, settling a pillow by her head, Should say: “That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all.” And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, 100 After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor— And this, and so much more?— It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105 Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: “That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.” . . . . . 110 No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, 115 Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old … I grow old … 120 I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. 125 I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130 Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

****
It's just so hard to stay in a position where you can't go back to not having noticed things... So hard...

Crazy

What a frantic day... >.<

Woke up just in the nick of time to make it to my first Math exam in The University of The Philippines... Exam, went well... At least I believe it did. After that, chaos jumped in.

Too much?

Too much...

time?
Too much time has passed since I blogged and actually wrote something that I felt like writing about. Sure, I have written quite a lot these past quarter or so, how can I not have? I'm in college. Too much time to kill? Probably so, it feels like I have a whole lifetime to just squander on everything, but then at the same time, its as though that lifetime ends every moment.

pain?
Well, on the topic of pain, I'm not really sure what to say. I probably am in pain, it could be that its too much already that I'm beginning to be stoic and quite indifferent to it. Or, I probably have taken in too much of it already that I need to start writing again... Honestly? I have no idea.

pressure?
As much as I want to be true to what I believe in, that pressure (along with a dozen other things) is just a matter of perception, it could be there or not, and it would just be up to you to be affected either way. But I would also be lying if I say that pressure is not a problem I'm parrying with. Pressure most likely brought upon me by none other than myself, no one hates me more than myself, as much as no one loves me more than myself (excluding God of course, I'm speaking of this world).

to think about?
I guess after weighing everything, it all boils down to just me thinking too much... Or am I... I feel bored, tired, stressed, and a whole lot more. My life seems to be satisfactory and trashy both at the same time. Its as though I have big plans, a future, dreams, and stuff like that... Yet at the same time, it feels like there's nowhere else to go to from here. It feels like I'm doing a wide array of stuff yet feels like everyday is monotonous. Somehow I see improvements, but then again, they seem to be trivial and even imaginary... I don't know... Maybe I AM thinking too much.

to still do...
As much as I hate to admit it, I have a reality to go back to...One that bounds me to things which I like yet at the same time feel bonded to...

blabber?
I'm not making anymore sense now am I? Its starting to sound too much like a ranting rascal, trash talk if you will...

I guess this means its time to end this post...

Lift Up?

Okay, so ever had this feeling of just wanting something too much that it already hurts?
Yeah, it sounds like something out of a cheesy movie or something... But its just so hard to actually know how it feels...

So maybe it isn't pain, but gets?

There's this "bothered" feeling that you just can't shake off...

Its TOO DAMN ANNOYING!

Its already been a long time since things transpired between us, things didn't end well, but they weren't that bad... or were they?

Its complicated, and it really is... I never actually thought I'd get the concept of what "complicated" is, until I realized that I WAS in a complicated (oh, I mean... I AM in) situation...

Things are actually quite civil, but then something just yells inside me that just won't stop!

"I DON'T WANT IT!"

Technically, I'm not supposed to feel any kind of loss...

But SH*T!!!

I feel like I have lost a hell of a LOT!

I guess this is the point where hopelessness jumps into the picture huh?!

A state where I know that I can't do anything...

Actually, I have also been thinking...

Are things really messed up? Or am I just making them be?

Is it a matter of perception?

I mean, relatively speaking, something is only as messed up as how one sees it to be...

Or am I just trying to be smart?

Something just keeps nagging me that its all ME... I'm just making problems for myself...

I DON'T KNOW!

I so DAMNED DON'T!



ARGH!


Okay, so I am no longer making any sense... I just have to write about it...

I mean, I don't know, I just don't...

I hate the feeling that I don't know what to do anymore...


Maybe this is why I am a Christian...

GOD has always been a form of escape for me, I'm an escapist, I admit that.

Maybe it's because of people like me who cling onto my faith as something to get me through, as a form of comfort, as a form of escape... that people perceive Christianity to be a form of "pleasure faith." A form of letting go, to just hold someone else accountable for the sh*t that keeps happening. Probably people don't like religion in general because they see it as a form of stupidity... Where one chooses to just leave things to someone greater... An excuse to justify them just letting stuff go and leaving things be... Basically a cowardly and lazy excuse...

I don't know...

But whatever it is, I am not letting go of my faith...

Its in times like these that I cling HARD onto His cross....

Back to the topic... Maybe I am to do just what my friend did...

Lift things up to Him...

After all, I am HIS...

No more...

My world revolved around you guys before...

You kept me safe, (at least at the VERY LEAST), that I'll give you.

You guys remained as my blanket for like what... a year or so?

Sadly though, the rains came...

The blanket wasn't there...

And I realized... The blanket isn't the only thing that keeps me warm though the storm...

I found out, there are ALWAYS some more stuffs out there...

I learned how to cope without you...

No more, no more blankets...

Eternal Nights - Dawn at Midnight

Eternal Nights - The First Night

*Some things I cannot express in words, I express through writing…*

The First Night

For sixteen years, carcasses, blood splattered bodies, castrated body parts, and darkness has been part of my backdrop, normal scenes of every day… or better yet every night, and no, they’re not nightmares, their reality.

It’s a stormy night, cliché but true, and as I was just about to finish dusting this 17th century glass table, the door slammed open, slammed in chorus with the clap of thunder with two silhouettes illuminated clearly by the sudden flash of lightning.

In an instant, I knew it was my master. The shadow was more than enough proof already, not to mention the glow of his cold blue eyes that shown through his mask; and as the stormy winds blew past him and into the house, his dark black cape that was held in place by a round seal on his right shoulder flew just enough to show his birthmark that was just a few degrees above his navel and a few inches to the right which also had the same eerie glow that his eyes had.

The door shut behind them, they were utterly dry despite the heavy rains outside, something I am accustomed to.

“Good evening sires,” I greeted.

“Good evening,” the guy beside my master replied with his eyes glowing crimson. And without another word, they went up the ancient Greek inspired flight of stairs. The mark on his back just below the crease in his back, somewhere right under his tailbone of his vertebra caught my stare before it got covered again by his cloak; an exact replica of that on my master’s abdomen.

In nights like these, my master would never utter any word. His hand would just be entangled with his rendge, the man beside him, and it would be the latter that would do the talking.

They are both slender in shape, lean and muscular, my description don’t really seem to coincide nor are they anywhere near the actual sight that I beheld.

Not long after, through the shut doors, four lovely ladies came floating in, in their elegant Lolita-Victorian gowns with matching hats they added to the ambiance of the night. They gave their curtsey, nodded politely, and fled up the stairs. The crimson stains in their gowns are impossible to miss, but then again, it is part of what I normally see.

These four are what my master calls as his “Princesses”, four lovely ladies with elegance and grace that covers up everything else.

This is my home, these are my family, and this is how I’ve lived. And by the way, I am not sixteen; I’ve lost count of my age sixteen years ago, and now… I don’t need to. Who needs to count eternity? I am destined to live as long as my master, as long as these people I consider family, as long as everlasting to everlasting. To some, it is a curse, but for me… It’s a rare privilege that my uncle, and his uncles before him, granted. A privilege I shall forever cherish.

**Since I don't post often, I decided to just come up with this blog based story. It is a very, very, VERY, distant parallelism of some real life events and characters. Chapters would be in installment basis, so as to get me motivated to write... hopefully! =)) Hope you like it~ **

42 0... Again after what... 1? 2 years?

So okay, I'm not supposed to be doing this, but... I don't know what else to do! I need to get my mind off things.

Here I am again, procrastinating.

I have a literature project due last(?) week, and I have to pass it tomorrow.

Tired, yes, too tired actually.

I need to make a revised edition of the fairytale "Cinderella," I'm doing well, I think, but its just that... I am either too tired or too lazy... I can't write!!!

So why am I writing here instead of in MS Word?
Why am I creating a post and not doing my project?

Simple...

=======+++========

I 301 0391...

I don't know.

I 601 2 67 1 10 922 515 1 11 0412 9402...

I went on and...

671 0 9484,

75201 1 0 810,

and then...

41 a 901 8 0.

I did not really...

72 212,

24 11 1 59 2 2

I just

9 11 2 1...

God would...

7421 3 1 8 52 92 12 84~

=======+++========

Whew, that was hard! =)
I just needed to let it out, for me to have one less worry in mind~ =)

PS
To those who would be able to decipher the text, please, don't post it for public viewing. Thanks~

(Posted supposedly... last last week? or even earlier~ haha)