She Sells Sanctuary

today's musical inclination:
Veruca Salt - Loneliness is Worse

When you’ve had enough
When you’ve got it bad enough and you can’t let go
When it comes to blows
And you start to overflow
And you can’t get home
It’s a subtle kind of cruel
It taps my spine here
I’m drawing a line
I’m asking please

Don’t you wanna be happy with me?
I’m afraid if you don’t come around soon I’ll turn sadder than you ever were
And you’ll learn loneliness is worse
You’ve got to try

December’s all alone and he’s calling me on the phone
But he sounds so cold
He says he loves me so
But how would I ever know?
Certain words grow old
It’s a vicious kind of catch
It sides me blind now
I’m out of my mind
I want to scream

Don’t you wanna be happy with me?
I’m afraid if you don’t come around soon I’ll turn sadder than you ever were
And you’ll learn loneliness is worse
You’ve got to try

Love liked me long ago
It had a way of making everyone the same
But now the angels must laugh and sigh
To hear me pleading with you
And needing you this way
Oh why?

Don’t you wanna be happy with me?
I’m afraid if you don’t come around soon I’ll turn sadder than you ever were
And you’ll learn loneliness is worse
You’ve got to try to stay mine all the way

-I'm not fond of posting whole lyrics anymore, but I love this song. I must have listened to it a gazillion times now and I'm still not sick of it. It's just so... so sad... *sniff* (thanks again to cnbgirl for the wicked mp3)
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I have this theory: there is only a limited number of times that one can say the word "haller?!" or any of its variations and likenesses (i.e. tC oLwEiz, mUaH, LabShU, fwend, hellers, byErz, etc.) before he goes insane, or at the very least gets significantly dumber. Lately, I feel like I've fallen victim to my own theorem. Not that I choose to be, really, it's just that I don't have much of a choice.

Let me clear something up. I never use those aforementioned words. Well, maybe not never, just very rarely ever. What I have been using are these: O_o o.o ^__^ @_@ >.< >____> (,") XD and so on and so forth. Doesn't that have the same effect on me anyway? Don't they look just as stupid as the other words sound?

It basically boils down to the fact that there are really only three people who get me, and I mean really get me. These are the three people I run to whenever there is some sort of qualm or rant that I must dispose of. I don't know exactly what makes them so different from other people, but for some reason I just feel right talking to them. They're like my sanctuary... or my mental institution. My good mental institution I mean, not the type that puts you in a straight jacket and locks you up for life.

Thing is, I can't reach any of them anymore. Two are in the CMC over at UP, but Pasky's all busy with her UJP stuffs and whatnot, while Jam's sked is a complete parallel with mine (yes, in a Euclidean geometric system please, the kind where they never intersect). The other one, Nikka, lives in California, so catching her online can be a tad difficult at times.

It's not that I want them to feel compelled to absorb my lunacy. I prolly just miss 'em, that's all. It sucks not having anyone to talk to about stuff you don't usually talk about with other people. I think everyone has that inner sanctum only to be found in a few others, and I am no exception. Sure there's my blog, but it just isn't the same...

The moral of the story? Hope is bad, especially when you place it in the hands of other people. The fact that they can break it means they have, or they will.

Disclaimer: The previous statement does not apply to the three people mentioned, who are saints for putting up with my bullshit and have done nothing wrong. Seriously, I mean that. I'm actually starting to enjoy keeping all my lunacy to myself lately. It can be quite nice. I really just put that down because it sounded kinda cool and it would be a shame if I forgot to save it for posterity. So, if any of the three of you are reading, no offense, all right? I understand, so it's only fair that you should too. So there. End of discussion.
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Completely Wrong Thought of the Day:
Let's Go Metro!

No, I haven't been using St. Ives' Apricot Scrub. I never will. The thought of me saying, "Men, saglit lang, Apricot Scrub break lang..." is just way too weird. Lately, however, I've stopped using Likas Papaya Soap (which I could really use on account of the sun baking me as I walk around the UP campus). I wouldn't have stopped using it, except mom has this freaky purple soap that smells like grapes. I like the scent. It's quite subtle yet delectable in that it is something like a tangy bubble gum flavor. I mix that up with raspberry sorbet, a bubble bath that has gone unused over the years (well not that many years). Nice. I smell like cotton candy. Then there's my shampoo. I never thought putting coal tar (yes I'm serious) on my hair would be the greatest idea ever, but it's not that bad. One thing though: it smells like turpentine. That's partially why I own a bit of Cream Silk leave-on moisturizer, that is, other than the fact that the harsh Diliman conditions leave my hair drier than death valley. It smells kinda girly, but hey, it works.

Just one last thing: I love my black leather shoes. I don't care that they kinda pinch my toes, that everyone else is wearing either rubber shoes or sandals, or even that they so totally do not mesh with my 10-year-old-gamer-slash-skate-punk ensemble. I love them. They give my soles extra protection from the rough sidewalks around UP, something that my thin-soled Dadas have never been able to do. I love my black leathers. Take them away from me at the risk of dying a most horrible yet mysterious death. Err, I mean, a risk increased to the levels between "very very likely" and "OMG WTF is that monkey doing with a chainsaw AIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!!!"