i love blogs! all sorts of em. most of the ones i enjoy reading evoke insight that genuinely excites me because they're the kind of ideas that are brilliant and (always so) well-explained. they're the ideas that can't be found in school books and that kind of stuff. but this is something i want to say.
where have the unique stories gone?
i love all of the blogs that i read, but i feel as if familiarity breeds... yeah, i won't go on.
i've read about making choices, about proper life attitudes, about believing in myself, about inner beauty and those kinds of things. hey, don't get me wrong, i've written about these things recently and i don't regret that. but what i'm trying to say is, i want to encourage myself to avoid writing cliche. to avoid writing the story that everyone's already read or heard, just in different words. because if i fill myself with the exact, same stories everyday, eventually the stories that i am meant to tell will change.. into something a little more influenced by the world. a little less of who i am.
i don't know if you believe in the same thing.
but i mean, write about how pasta could change the world or something.
think and write about something that nobody has ever heard of before.
I've had better months and better days. I wish that I could find the right words to say what I think or feel. Right now, I am at the point of pressure; where everything is on me, and I will have to take responsibility. And sometimes the incentive is what keeps me from taking that bigger step. Sometimes, I am distracted and my priorities are messed up.
And with that, honestly, I, myself, am seeing changes in the person that I am and I don't necessarily like them. But you know what's stricken me? It's that no matter what I've done, God seems to never run out of love - at all - and He's the only being that I know of that can do that. To love unconditionally.
Hm, why can't people be more like that? Why can't I be like that?
A friend asked me one time: If you were a color, what color would you be and why?
It was only almost reflex to blurt out my favorite color (which is undoubtedly green) and not give any other reason, but that night I thought about it and decided to go much deeper than what I initially put out for. Because If I were a color, I'd be blue since it can both portray happiness and sadness. And even so, my friends will see me and love me for me; flawed and imperfect.
I know it's been awhile since I've posted and I'm not going to write another paragraph on apologizing (like almost always) when I do it again anyway. The past month has been awfully busy for me, catching up with school and everything. But nevertheless, I've been thinking about this idea for a while now, and I thought it'd be good to leave it on here.
I will be deleting this blog.
Haha kidding, April Fools!
I miss typing on here.
- - -
I was chatting with an old friend over in Facebook the other day and he told me about his disappointment - how he and his family did not have any plans on travelling over the summer. For a while, I shared the disappointment with him. I mean, who doesn't love the taste of adventure, the anticipation for the unknown, or the wondrous delight of getting lost in a culture that you've never experienced before?
That's the word for it. Adventure.
He was disappointed because his summer had no more room for any adventure.
I sat and thought hard. Really hard.
And then I realized he was wrong.
the greatest of adventures
are the smallest ones.
The ones we expect the least.
I told him he had to reason to be disappointed.
Travelling is too expensive, he said.
Travelling isn't as easy as it sounds, he said.
Although what he said could be true at some point,
I think that the easiest way to travel
- or to have an adventure; to find something unusually exciting -
When I visit thrift stores, my fascination dwells on machines: cameras, music players, radios, televisions and typewriters. I have this other great interest, however, on letters and photographs. By letters, I mean postcards - or actual enveloped letters written in cursive from around 50 years ago. And by photographs, I mean people and places that I've never seen before: usually they have words like "Paul and Mary, 1954" or phrases (if I'm luck) like "San Francisco. Missing the Philippines."
Yesterday, I took a few shots with my Polaroid Colorpack III. The photos came out so nicely, I instantly fell in love with the camera. When the developed photos came out, I thought of something.
Could it be possible that maybe sixty to seventy years from now, could one of these photos end up in a box in some antique store?
Would a stranger come across this photo and bother to read what's on the behind?
I would never know.
If ever, in the distant future, someone comes across these photos, or any photo that I'm ever going to have taken, they're going to read something a little more meaningful than "Paul and Mary, 1954".
first off, i'm going to let if off easily by simply saying: i cannot believe that this blog has crept up to 500 followers. seriously, guys, that's like half of a thousand or twice of 250. most of you might not believe how happy and proud i am for reaching this amount of followers - i never thought it would go this far. so thank you a thousand times over!
it's nice, you know? to figure out that someone is listening to what you've got to say. and that's one thing that i admire so much about blogging: about sharing your stories or talents online on your personalized space. i admire how there are people out there - from several, various countries - who make an effort to type my blog's name on their browser, to wait for it to load, and to scroll down to find a new post, read it, and contemplate. i mean, that's if you understand what you read here! (haha)