A blogger’s life used to be different, back when those self-gratifying social network sites weren’t still much of a fad. A blogger’s life was pretty simple: The blogger does, witnesses and reviews activities, and eventually put sthese accounts on a journal in reverse-chronological order.
I used to blog at least once in two days. I make a story out of the most commonsensical anecdotes that will sound like a torn-out leaf from a schoolboy’s diary. I wrote about annoying professors, horrendous films and TV shows, parties, crushes, more crushes, and B-plus opinions on politics and the social scene. Apart from the cheese and corn pouring out of my blog posts, the most important thing for me was that I could write.
Then again, times have obviously changed… I barely blog anymore.
For one, my other foot is buried in the corporate grave. Believe it or not, I barely check my Facebook now. (Fine, I tweet regularly, but that deserves another blog post). Internet surfing revolves around the latest news. I can’t even afford to like a post on Tumblr now. I have softbound books pending. The last time I actually exercised was in the time of Abraham, yes, the father of Isaac. To sum it all up: I HAVE NO LIFE.
If I was in a musical, I could’ve just easily sang the first lines of Elphaba Thropp in her Defying Gravity number: “Something has changed within me. Something is not the same.”
I could’ve belted it even better than Idina Menzel!
I dunno, perhaps I just miss writing—and not the writing I do in the newsroom. What I miss is the kind of writing which usually helps the blogger clear both his heart and mind after zealously ending a post with a period.
You know it’s hard for me not to update this goddamm blog. I may work in the online industry but I actually have to dedicate a big percent of my potential energy to write, edit, read stuff, write, edit, read stuff, do my mobile assignments and so on. ( U P D A T E U P D A T E )
There are times when I just wanted to freeze time itself, borrow someone else’s videocam and shoot from the beginning. I’m not yet old, but now I feel so. With the Harry Potter movie series to end next year, it’s like a lifetime– a good chunk of my lifetime– raced past me. And this is coming from someone who’s not a fan of that lightning scar. I think I’m missing a lot: Movies, books, history, people, music, myself. ( Read more… )
I cannot seem to locate a venue to release this but there are some things in my twisted life that I love to hate (or technically, to dislike):
- People who think Ray-Ban‘s at night, indoors, or at any circumstance that doesn’t ask for optometry help, is cool.
- Those who walk so slow before my pace, when I’m hurrying for something.
- Most of the ancient, obscure yet applauded motion picture classics: Citizen Kane, Battleship Potemkin, Ozu films, or anything that reminds me of my film class back then. Fine, my German teacher was excellent. But we had it at dull, gloomy Monday mornings and the videotheque ambiance was reminiscent of a Pinoy dim-lit, bamboo, miniature chicken fence.
- Nicholas Cage.
- The fact that The Sorcerer’s Apprentice trailer breaks the ice which urges me to go view the film, but I then realize that Nicholas Cage is in it. I’m in a crisis.
- The predicted fall of Lindsay Lohan.
- The video of a supposedly UFO in China, but was actually a missile launched… In Kazakhstan! Hah!
- This future-inept life that I live upon that causes me to think about these nonsense things then hate them. I hate myself. Bye.