If I had my blue notebook...

It's been three weeks, and I'm still struggling to figure out how exactly to write about this. It never really takes me this long to compose something in my head, but as time goes by, and inspirations change, my head spins as if it's on a constant wash cycle.

Three weeks ago, everything was a blank canvas. That's the easiest to influence; one small move and you'd put paint on it. If I wrote an entry at that time, it would've been very random, or worse, very messy. I used to be able to live with entries like that, but of course things don't work that way anymore. And besides, I had a reason to keep quiet. I didn't know the whole story, and it never pays if you write about something without knowing everything, unless you aim to just write about yourself. I learned that the hard way.

I was reading Kat's blog at one point, and something she said struck me. "I know backstabbing is really hurtful," she wrote. "But the thing is, everybody does it. In one form or another, consciously done or not, in the most innocent of contexts, everybody backstabs someone else." That's older than the initial time frame, but I read it again two weeks ago, and I was, again, struck.

Something was forming in my head. Kat said, insert quote here... but it obviously didn't work, because I got stuck with that line. I planned to write about Sam's own storyline, but it didn't feel right, because I did not know the entire story.

Everybody knows most of my idle time is spent thinking. Perhaps that's what makes me an unattractive fellow: I am perhaps too intellectual, or too preoccupied to notice someone's new haircut. I've been struck by inspiration so many times, and I've tried writing about it in one way or another similarly. If I keep quiet, it's because I'm still thinking of how it will end up. "What you write is what you are," the reminder at PinoyExchange said, a juxtaposition to persistent flaming wars that began it all, or so I thought.

Out of frustration, I wanted to just let it all go. Something forms in my head again. The reason why she didn't come on time, I think, is because the rains were just so bad. It was too safe; it doesn't give justice to what I really meant. Just stop telling us things, because we don't care anymore, and you wouldn't understand because you're just like them. Too harsh. It's hard striking that balance. I fail anyway, but it doesn't hurt to try.

One week ago, I can consider myself calm and collected. It took so long, however, and I ended up not having any thoughts about it. I was writing, yes, but about something else. Perhaps I have moved on. That's a perfect justification. Or perhaps I just took to heart what Jackie said a few months ago: "Sometimes it is better not to speak." Maybe that's better than going on a bitter tirade that ends with the words I disassociate.

And along the way, I was thinking about it, and I wasn't alone. I'd find inspiration in conversations, and I'd pin mental bookmarks on them. Gone are the times when I had a blue notebook with me, where I'd scribble down fantasy radio schedules and thoughts about my crushes. All throughout, it just developed. It took a long time, yes, but it eventually made it out alive. And that's what I'm doing right now.

"Kung hindi pa niya maintindihan yung nangyayari sa'tin... pinipilit niya kasi na magpakabait. Well, she's nice, but not that nice."

Perhaps they're harsh words if you're the one in the receiving end, but you'd think otherwise if you just give up holding on blindly to fangirlisms.

And your responses...

oh noes. i had just back stabbed my friend. not in the meanest way though.but still. okay. guilty ako :|

Blogger N.8/08/2008     

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