Playing Field

Lately, my thoughts have been broken, rambling and incomplete, and they mirror so much of the struggles inside me that I've yet to pay attention to. Life has been messy lately. I live day-by-day, without plans save for the coming comprehensive exams. I drift from one activity to another, hours eclipsing the previous.

So much has happened. The return of a long-lost friend that brought back a lot of baggages that I thought I've discarded. I've moved on, but for friendship's sake, I want to be there for her now that she's needing a friend the most.

A tempest has come. A man I can never, should never look at, yet drawn to like moth to a fire. Wait. I am fire. I burn brighter with a little gale of wind.

A date turned out the way I know it would, and the way I hoped it would not. A disaster of sorts. I've discovered that dating men is just crossing out names from a list. I've given it a lot of thought, and I'm definitely scratching out the last disaster from my list. I'm not holding my breath for this fool, if he's still so hung up on someone else.

I've told MFXD never to send me text messeges again. I won't answer them anymore. I have now joined a carpool in the morning, removing the possibility of chance encounters.

Faceparty account quiet again. I included a note in my profile for perverts to leave me alone. Hahahaha. Well, not really quiet. I get a handful of letters once in a while asking me to go to England, all expense paid, for a meet-up. In MySpace, a German widower asked me (twice) to marry him, in exchange for all his earthly goods and possessions, and yes, even a position in his IT firm. I replied with an itemized assets and liabilities. Shut him up quiet nicely.

Sigh. This playing field is not really my turf.

* can you blame me for being selfish
when i take my happiness wherever,
whenever i can get
stealing chances for all they are worth

is it such a sin to wish for something
more than justa passing fancy
when all you've had were toys easily broken

And frustrations pile up like forgotten letters
Torn pages of a diary yellowed with time and tears
Happiness is not an opportunity that knocks on your door
It doesn't come uninvited, bringing cheers and ally
ou've got to play the part of the gracious host
when all you have in your party is you and a mirror