I am bored. I dunno why but my system is just asking me to break away. To go on never-ending night-outs, day-outs, travels and all those shit just to leave the house. I want to experience a lot of things.
Am I selfish? You bet I am. And what’s the deal with rushing the process of growing up? Why would I do that? This is how I live and I’m gonna live it the way I want to. Yes, I am selfish and a brat. Just deal with it.
When I decided to start writing publicly, it was never my intention to be a role model. I was merely writing to have people take a peek into my TWISTED view of life. I have the most incoherent wisdom to impart, the most irrelevant thoughts, the most trivial rants, but then again, when I write I only have self-interest in mind. I am blogging for personal purposes, not for the salvation of the entire human race [if I wanted to save the human race, I would’ve committed suicide long time ago, as I am aware that it is a doomed pursuit]. After all, I am using my own resources to build this thing up… so it better serve my self interest. I am not stalling someone else’s life when I write and rant. No one’s worse off when I write – which I feel makes me better off. Thus, me serving my self interest is perfectly normal [as opposed to those who are elected to become public servants, yet are serving their self interest while in position… excuse the political undertone again].
Yes, I am very selfish. I am so used to getting things my way. Last-born-and-only-girl-syndrome.
I don’t wanna grow up. I don’t wanna give you some lame excuse and justify it by using my position in the stratification of the social continuum. So why do I don’t wanna grow up?
Basically, it is because I haven’t enjoyed my life yet.
I see growing up as a chore and a responsibility. Something I have never been so good with. Growing up means being too serious. So I’m gonna do an Elle-Woods rhetoric here… Growing up equates to having problems, problems give you wrinkles, and wrinkly people doesn’t seem to have much fun. I wanna have fun. I am young. What’s the rush? I have at least 40 years ahead of me… let’s cross the bridge when I get there. But right now, I am okay just being this way.
I started online publishing 2003, but actively blogging around 2005. Basically, when I write, it has never been my goal to educate or impose my way of life to anyone. That’s only a bonus if the people who chance upon reading my writings actually pick something out of it, like a new twisted philosophy, a eureka moment so to speak, or a she’s-telling-something-true-jiffy. And when that happens and they tell me about it, it flatters me. It’s even better when someone tells you they find your writing entertaining.
However, it doesn’t hold that all my ideas are true or correct. I’m not a prophet nor am I the Messiah.
I am a human being. Just on the brink of adulthood. And being in this stage entitles me to all the waves and the motions. I may write distinctly erudite one day and unabashedly retarded and self serving the next. But I am human. And as human beings, we do have that part of the brain called the hypothalamus that controls our emotions – or I believe it does – and I run on hormones (oxytocin, endorphin, dopamine, etc [I’m not so sure, I’m not a Bio major]) that cause me to feel and think different ways on different occasions. Thus my writing may be reflected by my moods. Then add the fact that I am of the female species, known for being fickle-minded, among other stereotypes. You’re supposed to know how it goes.
I write posts that reflect all of the things that I am undergoing on a certain moment. You may notice inconsistent stories and fallacious dialectics that most of the time I just invent by myself by virtue of being young, cute and just being able to get away with it. If you notice any of that, I reiterate the point that I, Neah, like any other human being is capable of feeling all the emotions ever invented and discovered by humankind and the possibility that my moods, emotions and temperaments may be reflected in my writing. Thus, YOU** are estopped! – to do whatever it is that you’re doing that irritates the hell outta me.
So excuse me if I am being such a burden to you when you read my posts. I may have consistently advertised and plugged to you my blog [or not, but by mysterious and covert channels, you got hold of my blog], but I didn’t impose it to you either. But take note as well that when you came here, you have the choice to read it or not. In the end of the day you still have the freewill to make the decision if you will use a minute or so of your time reading away in all the glory that is my blog. And it is not my fault neither that you are clandestinely following me and supposedly every day of my life via www. Do you know how creepy that is? I enjoy the wide readership, yes, and the constant traffic and the hits. But when you’re taking note of all the points I try to do in the last 5 or so years of my life, probably doggy-earing them, highlighting, underscoring and even reflecting on all of them… Man, that is just whacked.
Don’t expect me to grow up so fast. I’m just twenty-one. Yes, de jure I am a full-pledged adult. But de facto, I am still a kid with a lot to learn, go through, and all that jazz. I don’t hafta rush anything though, I’m getting there one step at a time. Is it that much a deal if one less 21-year-old refuse to grow up just yet? I’m taking pleasure from listening to the music I grew up with, watching the made-up reality brought about by sitcoms, series and the few selected reality-TV-shows, typing away my woes on my laptop, taking a lot of pictures, recording lots of moments, being the drama queen that I am, basking in all the craziness of the world, growing up – no rush, no worries. Don’t expect me to have the Grand Narrative of the Universe. If I have a very superficial and limited view and take on the world, life and my existence… If my stories are incoherent and inconsistent, it probably is because I am YOUNG.
I enjoy being young. I enjoy my fallacies. I enjoy putting up a show. I enjoy dishing out my best satire with my view of life. I enjoy being ditzy and giddy when I am happy. I enjoy succumbing to the pain I went and will go through. I enjoy complaining and whining. I enjoy making statements. I enjoy spilling all my bitterness. I enjoy being in the company of my friends. I enjoy the lack of responsibility as of the moment. I enjoy reading my old posts and the nostalgia. I enjoy not thinking yet about the future. I enjoy pseudo-fame. I enjoy right now. I enjoy writing. And the last thing I wanna do is to rush growing up and put in peril the things I enjoy doing the most.
*My Reply, The Ataris
** To the Anonymouscommentator and what seemed like pundit on life: I apologize for being young, inexperienced, and not thinking the way you do. But then again, there’s no point being apologetic for how I am. Remember: People can’t help how they are.
Dealing with it. Moving on. Ciao!
Angry Beavers, As Told by Ginger, Rugrats
