My Blog

note to self:

Christian — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 07:37:55 GMT

self, you lost something today. its generally considered a valueable possession. dont you feel robbed of something? why aren't you upset? -because you happily gave it away.

so, it seems i am in love.

Christian — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 05:28:51 GMT

ive only not spoken to him in a few hours and already, i miss him. im finding that throughout the day, i just want to be with him. =] just last night, i was up 'till 3 with him.

Today is....

Christian — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 02:14:35 GMT

Marlon Brando's Birthday! :D

the disconnect...

Christian — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 02:45:27 GMT

is improving.

X]

Christian — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 05:08:39 GMT

i got this message today, and i couldn't help but to find it hilarious,... "why my dear christian, are you single? i was just running through a bunch of things in my mind and this is one of them, you're very pretty, you're not a jerk, on the contrary really..and yet you are single...dare i ask why?" the last time someone asked me this, nothing great came of it. i really dont know how to reply to it. ...should i just say "because im a big pain in the ass" !?

Almost-Midnight Ramblings

Christian — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 06:24:07 GMT

I like having the ability to say that I have not done something "all year". However, "all year" has been only 3 months long. Where does time come from? Time is something we invented so that we can talk about when something happened or when it will happen. It is great having a lot of time, & yet I hate having it when i need to wait for something. Waiting kills me. The only thing worse than waiting is having to wait for something that MIGHT not happen...

I've come to a realization...

Christian — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 03:04:01 GMT

The trouble with girls is that if they like a boy, no matter how big of an asshole he might be, she'll say he's got an inferiority complex or that he's got a speaking impediment. And if she doesn't like him, no matter how nice the guy is, or how big of a speaking impediment he has, she'll say he's an asshole. Girls are very bias in that sense.

...sometimes i wish i could write less like a woman and more like a man.

Christian — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 07:16:37 GMT

I saw a woman, of short hair. Her lips scarlet as the blood in the veins of a passionate and frail man. She walked around very carefully avoiding eye contact with everyone while she was taking people’s orders. I was rather intrigued by her presence. What a beautiful creature she was. I saw her eyes glance out the window and at the pouring rain as she poured me coffee. Through the steam I saw them. They were green- bright green apples. The apple of my eye. The window to her soul. The object of desire. I wanted nothing more than to stare at them for eternity. I knew at that moment I desired her. She was the raw forbidden fruit that I could not have. For, if I did, I would have committed sin. I was ruthlessly awaken by the dreadful buzzing noise of my alarm clock yelping for my full attention- It was only a dream. Time was slipping by. Morning at the Diner: Today I saw the woman who owned the dream I had borrowed only a few hours ago. She looked blankly into my eyes. She was oblivious of the desire I possessed and of how close I was to her not so long ago. If only she knew. Fearless was the word that came to mind, the one she held in her eyes. That’s what she wanted the world to think she was. But she did not know who she was. She wore her name on her sleeve. And her heart on her head. Unfortunately that wasn’t the only thing she had on her head. She was cursed with having a mind filled with thoughts, thoughts that would pollute the world in which she was in. They had no status in a place like this. She owned a fine not only to my broken heart but to the owner of the shattered plates on the chessboard floor. He yelled at her. Her eyes filled with loathing for every inch of him. He yelled at her once more. She disappeared into the cold storm outside. I decided to pursue her, speak with her, make contact. To my dismay, she could not be spoken to- for there was nothing I could have said for her to find interest in. She wanted nothing but solitude. Her eyes transformed into the glass and then into the rain. A solemn tear traveled down her cheeks and dissolved in her lips. I wished to be that tear -to die at her lips would have completed my life. She knew nothing of this, her eyes were filled with resentment and immediately I knew my duty. She was cold ceramic in my arms- she was the shattered plates. The sympathy and comfort of a stranger was not enough to change her mind. As she let go, she faded into the gray weather with every step she took… Night: Her ample split strawberry lips were calling me. I woke up repeatedly. Her ample split strawberry lips were calling me each time I fell asleep. And each time I awoke, I was disappointed. I hungered for her mouth. Morning at the Diner: She was no longer there. Night: I sat awake on my bed wondering whether I would ever see her again. I wished I had stopped her from departing when the opportunity presented itself. Yet, I have no regrets. I now had no reason to visit the place that served bitter coffee. I had no debts to pay, but I decided to return once more to the place that felt so vast and empty without her presence. I sat by the window and read the newspaper. The front page stated the divorce rate amongst the overall American population. The statistics and the graphs were a horrid sight. I pushed it aside, put on my coat and ventured outside. I went for a walk. Before long, I found myself lost in the dark. And there she was. Sitting all by her lonely herself on a filthy street bench. It did not deserve the body it held. For a moment, I was filled with jealousy I wanted her all to myself. I decided to turn it into more. . She held a certain serenity which attracted every atom in my body. Morning at the Diner: I had awaken with her exposed body by my side. She lay there dreaming gracefully. Her neck was extended marvelously , Her breasts were ample and tempting. Her abdomen inviting. She was a rose. I didn’t remember where I was. All I knew was what I had done. I had pealed the petals off her stem in the shadows. I also knew that I should leave. And after doing so, I returned to the place in which I first encountered her. I thought everything over in my head numerous times. I craved her nevertheless and would do it again. Still, I had no regrets. Night: I knew it was she who had done it. I fell slowly to the floor and the apple slipped out of my hand and rolled away stunningly out of my reach. She walked to me vigilantly and kissed me on the outer corner of my lips. Then she proceeded towards the door, her feet were the last things I saw. As she walked away she moved further and further away from me, the fire inside me had been extinguished with the last moment I looked into those eyes of hers which escorted me through my short journey with her. She vanished. I remembered the day I first encountered her. My dream had finally come true. I had finally received my wish. Scarlet lips on my neck were a souvenir that marked her presence - the symbol of what we she was and who she fought for. I felt myself dissolving. I died hopelessly at her feet. She was the woman with the scarlet lips and she was the blood that ran through my veins.

Love vs. Me...?

Christian — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 06:57:54 GMT

Love and I have never gotten along. Its been that pesky little spoiled brat of a sibling that I cant live with nor without. Although every time milk has been spilled, it has been my fault. Lately, its been frusterating because.. Im always told that I put up a wall and that I keep everyone at a distance- I never let anyone close enough. But, when I try to put down that wall... when I try to let someone close enough... they shoot me right in the foot. It's the very reason why the wall is up in the first place- Im afraid of getting hurt (and I hate admitting it). And it seems like now it would be a great time to give up. Why not give up while im ahead?