5/21/2007
Distractingly

You have stared at me far too many times.

Now I'm stumped as to what to write. I got that thought out, and yes, I refuse to elaborate, because there's nothing to elaborate on, but I'm actually pressured to write an entry that's longer than that. To be more precise, I'm pressuring myself to write an entry that's longer than that.

Then again, who am I kidding? The girl's pretty. There must be nothing wrong with, err, telling the world about her prettiness. Everyone has done it, more so if they are doing it for a living. I think the people who work for, say, FHM have to write the fact that the person they're interviewing is the hottest thing in the world. And, consequently - even if I don't really read FHM, much more buy it - waves of lads alone in their bedrooms agree.

I find myself daydreaming a lot. I live by daydreaming. It's the only way you can squeeze creativity out of a drenched environment. I can insert someone familiar in a scenario that even they can't imagine themselves in. But, sometimes, my daydreaming doesn't get me anywhere. Trust me - whoever is the apple of my eye, and has been there for quite a while, becomes the most frequent subject. Still, though, it depends on whether I am willing to let the imagery pass.

Literary people (rather than I say "literature people" erraneously) probably survive on daydreaming. It's a necessity, even - heck, you're forced to conjure what happens to, say, David Copperfield in a different light each time your professor screams at you. In our case, we are aided by our thumbs and our pointing fingers, arranged to form a 16:9 screen, although we work with 4:3 most of the time. Maybe the political science people think of world events. Or the psychology people think of a revolving image of the brain. Then something flashes on my head - "psychology people" isn't the right term to use. I'm stumped again.

However, nothing beats seeing the real thing. The first celebrity I saw with my two eyes was a certain Martin Nievera. I'm not exactly a fan, but that experience - imagine me surprised, looking up in a toy store, and the singer saying something I'd rather not recall out of confusion - was stamped in my head, that even now I remember his eyes looking at me. Maybe that's why I learn the art of imagining how people would look at me. I have met a lot of celebrities (and people in positions, to be more exact) throughout the course of my life, and I remember the eyes that peered to me - Sam Oh's, Andi Manzano's, Aia de Leon's, Rico Hizon's - and, of course, I'll see the eyes that I see far more frequently in person.

So maybe that's why people staring at me affects me a lot. Maybe the way the iris peers through you, the way the pupil adjusts to light, the way the eye color changes with the lighting - that helps. It's no secret how many times people's eyes make me twirl while being tipsy. Sometimes, though, it's annoyingly there - it's always there, even if you don't really need it. I do need to daydream, but I don't have to daydream about mere pairs of eyes, and how they accusingly look at you, and how you think that you'll never really gaze into those pair of eyes in person, in the frequency that you want, and without getting other accusing stares. You know, they'd go "why are you looking at her like that?" or something else.

I've actually written a longer entry. I'm actually amazed. Now that she's logged off, I can stop hitting myself for stealing a peek in the first place. I can now go to school without ever dozing off. Then again, I wrote about it, and it's bound to stay for quite some time...

And your responses...

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