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I wish I were making it up, I wish it were something that came out of my mind, like most of my stories do. On paper, how I long to sustain the tension, to extend the long periods of silence, to say something more with the absence of words. They say it's the mark of a good writer if a reader was evoked more by what was unsaid rather than what was actually written. Tension, they say, moves the story.

And yet, how ironic that it's that tension and silence that I wish to escape right this very moment. It's not as if I don't make an effort, I do. But sometimes there are things that just don't add up. You can't put them together no matter what.

Now this is the kind of moment where I wish I had a car and I would drive somewhere, anywhere, nowhere in particular. And later somehow I'd just find myself back home.

Thank God for torrent downloads to keep me sane and somehow stop my need to run outside the streets of Katipunan shouting expletives at the top of my lungs to release anxieties caused by acads and unnecessary room tension. I am watching Easy A for the third time this week because (1) it's just made of pure awesome (2) Emma Stone is a goddess (3) it makes me a hundred times better (4) I like her corsets (5) one character kindasortof looks like some guy I know. But of course, said guy is much, much, much cuter. And of course, I am very, very, very biased.


In other news, I think my question box has been effin' up lately. For the past few days I've been getting blank questions only. I thought someone just kept on pressing the send button by mistake, but when I tried typing something, blank entries still got through my email, so I've decided to fix it -- and ended up changing my layout as well. (Something to reflect this blurry/confused/detached phase I'm feeling. Blech, I feel so emo I hate it.)

Anyway, the question box is up and running again so you can resend your questions that (most probably got lost and) were left unanswered.


* It's a theatrical term we aren't really discussing for any of my playwriting classes but sounds relevant nonetheless. Don't know what it is? In the words of Olive Penderghast, "Look it up, big boy."