Things I think when it's a nice day and I'm dull.
Thursday, 02/12/04 - 2:00 pm.

This morning I woke up and then I fell asleep again (it always happens, I hate that). Then I woke up for good with an unusual mood of carpe diem or something along those lines. It's one of those days when you think life is wonderful, and you don't need a reason to agree or deny so.

Suddenly (I mean, lately) I can't wait to see my UCA friends (Victoria, Irene, Victor and Angie). I've realized how nice it is to be with them. We get along so well and we always have a laugh or ten. They make my college life bearable and worhtwhile.

Last night I called Irene and Victoria (they don't have internet access at home), to let them know about something related to the UCA (the career of psychology is going under a few "repairments", so to speak), and to tell them our schedule for this semester's paperwork.

So this is what "catching up" means. I hate talking on the phone (the phone rings and I get pissy, specially if I have to answer it) but I really enjoyed talking to the both of them, with these four souls it's always fun. I'd never felt like "catching up" on the phone with anyone before. The phone is a total drag to me.

(I particulary loathe people when they start listening to EVERY SINGLE ring tone on their cell phones, IN PUBLIC).

I think I'm going to see the four of them on the 26th, day of paperwork at the UCA. Victor has a gig coming up, too (finally his band has original songs). And I may be going to visit Irene at the ESJ. She's got a job there, and she said it'd be nice if I could go visit her. I may will should have to go next week.

Vic (not Victor) said to me last night: write me a satanic song, compatriot. Oh, dude, I thought to myself, impersonating a male teenager.

I thought I could, really, but I've actually outgrown that dark phase I had in senior high, influenced by Vic (during the "break-up" with D). He's essentially dark or goth/punk, metalhead, mosh pit material, whatever you call it (and depressed, too). But I'm not. I once wrote a "song" out of that phase, after listening to a Hoobastank CD he'd lent me, but it was lame, incoherent, witless and out of beat (don't you love it when people tear apart their own work?). It's not my cup of tea, or however middle-aged people say.

Anyway, I tried to write something "satanic" for him, while watching Still Breathing on TV (DEARGOD, WHATABORINGMOVIE!). Nothing -good- came out, of course. First because I simply don't belong to the dark crowd, and second because, as I've been mentioning these past weeks, my creativity (if there ever was once) is completely and absolutely dried up.

I desperately search and search, going back and forth, I don't know what to do with myself, as if saying that would provide an answer. I don't know how to cure this urge I feel. Urge to write something good, to draw something good. What is this urge of getting pen and paper if I never write down a thing? Or if I do, it ends up in the trashcan the next morning, because it sucks.

Maybe I need to write for someone. This morning I wrote a short letter to my friend Nicole in Florida (we met years ago when she came here to visit the then girlfriend of my brother -they broke up later on-), and while scribbling, thinking somebody was going to read my words made me feel relieved for a while.

I was thinking of bringing a newspaper to life, The Daily Bizarre. It'd be a monthly publication by Simeon Films, in collaboration with Simeon Inc. and additional work by Simeon Enterprises (in case you care, I belong to Simeon Films).

- Head: but that's unfair...that's a monopoly, isn't it?
- Me: well, if it bothers you, you can always write to the editor, you know?
- Head: and the editor is Simeon...

He's one of the very few people I can always count on to get it. The rest of the world would have said I was the editor or just: ", anyway, listen to what happened to me last week..."., anyway, I'm actually working on it. But it takes me a day to do a single page, so I'll stop on the first issue and mail it to Head, because after all, there isn't an organized system of recycling in this country.

Say, I'm going to see a newborn today! My brother's girlfriend/spouse's sister had a baby two days ago. Aw, my brother's an uncle again (I'm not *frowns*). I need a new nephew or niece. You know, the world can always use a newborn Beatlemaniac and/or Aerohead. And I'd rather work on other people's babies, I don't count on myself to breed. I mean....NO.

prev / next