I found this...

UNEDITED.

I CANNOT WRITE TODAY.

DRY A BIT.

I FOUND THIS IN MY CELTX (screenwriting program storyboard section).

THIS IS HOW I USED TO THINK 2 YEARS AGO. WELL, NO ONE HAS TIME TO BE ANALYTICAL NOWADAYS. NO TIME. JUST DO. DONT THINK.
-OLD CLASSMATE- (2008)
you can accomplish anything if you put your mind to it. this is from back to the future. doc brown says this in the first one, i think. i think that he is right. you can do it. you can read my thoughts right now. I am thinking exactly what I am typying. yes you can. no it did not. see how I am responding immediately to your words? no they dont. ;) my mind is being revealed right this very moment through the symbols. i never said entirety? i have to look at the keys when I type. i cant look at the screen and type at the same time. sadly no. well sometimes i can, but most of the time I cant. i am too lazy to learn correctly. that is sad that I cant type without looking at the screen. I am ashamed of myelf. i am a senior in college and I have to look at the keys. its kind of a mental handicap. yeah... thanks for being so understanding about it. you are the most understanding person i have ever met. . . . . . NOT. you see, you now have a piece of my mind on your computer. you can save it, and when I die, you will have evidence of my existence on your computer. you will never forget me becasue of this. i will live forever in the hearts of those who live on after my death. I dont think that it is selfish if it is for a good cause. for example: what about great men like gandhi and martin luther king????? so am I

is that not a great purpose? explain "subjective perpetuation" plaese. no, that is not what I want. This is just an excercise of the creative faculties of my mind. right now this is how I am reavling myself to you. I am not doing this so that I am "praised" (catherine oct 28, 2007). say again? perhaps I am starving for it? maybe it is necessary for my being? thats not true. I dont know what the hell i want. exactly, i am scared to know what i want. thats why we have to look to the words of the great emit brown "you can accomplish anything if you put your mind o it". fuck descartes. read berkely. which is?



-ME-
I dont like how you leave my task ambiguous....What should i write? I am rather fond of that black skull scarf hanging on the tent. its not. i remember wearing it when i drove to see a friend back home. my jeans were killing me and i was straving but that scarf will always be associated with that experience. yes. almost 1 year and 1month. i remember the way it was arranged when i hugged my friend. it served as an embellishment for my boring life. I often try to add things...constantly adding so that my existence will not be plain as it seems to be preordained to be...or maybe its a black canvas that i must paint over...i am not sure. no! i think not...just bc i enjoy narrating my life does not mean that i want people to read it and cherish it in their hearts. it must not be attributed to me- catherine...i dont care if i remain anonymous but that the idea penetrates and nothing else...that is an extention of myself and that is all i need..no praise...no notoriety...nothing...i am not sartre who refuses a fucking noble prize. I would love to get an academy award. i will admit this...i want to be concrete in film...the vision is MINE!!!! the medium of film is the vision...the picture in my mind...the streams of images...of course i must be selective..i see your reasoning . my pride will not admit to such a fault but i guess my transcedance does seek so affirmation with others. you just talk about it more. like a little kid telling me his hopes and dreams while wearing a cubs hat. how precious...jk. the more you mention remembering the more i want to punch you in the face for such blunt arrogance. you know i will punch you punk. i know you are right...you are too tall for that.otherwish you would get a pretty nice black eye. i wouldnt do such a thing...im just too nice.true. did you like the scone. i know...im thoughtful...- i did that on purpose. in this case i knew i had to throw it in. most people overlook things bc we are often in a daze...so we must remind them about things...you remind them about remembering and how we must attribute this concept to you...and catherine just reaffirms what others should think of catherine. :) pompous but that is me.i dont like u. you are mean to me. yes you are. where is my letter? sure. they always say that. fabulous. good job. ic. i understand. i have a friend (who is a cancer) she always has that problem. She writes me numerous letters but fails to send them to me. why is that? forget to stamp it and put it in the mail or in your case walk over and hand it to me? why are you all so hesistant? i dont understand. I am very eager to give my letters out to people. u can do it! why are you so scared of being vulnerable? everyone is scared of that...why do you think you are more prone to this fear? no one likes to be exposed. its just a letter...thoughts...feeelings...shelley wrote lovely letters to women. he was exposed..seen as a lovesick fool but he wrote..yes...he was -the best actually-other than byron. i wish i was a man so i could be more liberal about matters of the heart. I wish i had that freedom to be less stigmatized by my femininity. we are more predisposed to attachment and i wish to to unattached to many things. i like to keep moving. you guys have it better than us. how is is bullshit? well you are not a woman... maybe we perceive ourselves to be more weak than we really are...i guess so. not sure...havent tried it out yet. no. actually i tried it out and i failed. i dont feel like talking about it. it will remains stuck in my mind. i will for the ideal catherine to handle situations in a certain manner and i often fall short. i feel like its only me. i do and i cant help feel that i will never break out of it. i want to though... that is limited though...creativity -in terms of actualizing your existence. an individual wishes to build a boat and sail the sea. He builds this boat and it is set to sail for his first voyage but it tragically destroyed by a storm the previous night. this individual wills for his nautical adventure for his happiness but his creative endeavor...him typing our his story is suddenly changed by outside forces. just in that iso

THAT IS IT IN ITS ORIGINAL FORM

IGNORE ALL THE BANTER BACK AND FORTH. I WAS HAVING A "TYPED OUT CONVERSATION" - NO WORDS-ONLY TYPING ON A SINGLE LABTOP.

I still cannot believe I am stuck on that concept "actualizing my existence". What lame academic jibber jab....ARGGHHHH
PLEASE GOD- LET ME KNOW IF THIS INSISTENCE FOR CREATIVITY IS FUTILE!!!!

Sorry, if this isn't like most of my other writings.

Just for the sake of WRITING

I very much miss writing. However, lately, I have been keeping my inner thoughts withdrawn due to my awareness of narcissism in today's society. That statement in no way aims to offend anyone who writes in blogs. I am simply more hesitant to write, because I am afraid my ramblings are testaments to my sick self-involvement. I don't seem to be interested in anything else, other than my inner conflicts. I don't seem to notice anyone else, or care to divulge information about the people I am around (not very provocative people, but good people- my parents) nor do I voice out any concern for any humanitarian cause. I have never been much attracted to those topics. I believe I am flawed in that way. Unable to step out of my subjective casings and into a more whole perspective of humanity, versus the desires and everyday predicaments of my own existence. Again, guilt sets in...Why I cannot be a universal beacon of hope such as a Mother Theresa figure? I cannot understand my purpose when it is incongruent with what we see fit as a contribution to all. Will I grow out of it? Will age change these stubborn views?

Either I will be damned for not trying, or damned for being worthless in a plan of universal peace and love.

I really do not know where to start with either of them.

Oh well.

The Rekindling

I apologize for the very long hiatus. Recently, I lacked the compulsion to write anything...anything.

I have been spending a lot of my time alone. Though that line usually comes with a tragic tone, ignore it- that's not applicable here. Thus, my time is spent with my thoughts mulling in my head. I am not bombarded by the intercessions of differing opinions. I must admit it is very restorative; however, a lack of human contact always ends in a form of lacking (especially for me). It is something I know all too well as a only child. Bottom line- in the past, people have always exhausted me, on account of my constant expulsion of energy and effort. I hope you know that it was never in vain, or for the sole entertainment and accommodation of the other person. I simply get excited. It is strange, but I become my full myself when I am conversing with people. There are limits though. I approach some situations with such vivacity that my easily wear myself out. It is a satisfying feeling though.

I was supposed to move to New York for a talent management internship. Sadly, it did not pull through because I did not have a paying job in Manhattan, and my parents are not very supportive of my aspirations as a film executive. To their dismay, I have never lacked the ambition to be in the entertainment industry. Sounds cliche but it really makes a difference when your parents give you a pat on the back. It is not fair to say they held me back. I am codependent of their approval, hinging on that fact that they are the only people I unconditionally care about. I don't fall in love easily, nor do I get too attached to friends. My semi-transient childhood is not to blame, but it set the foundation for my lack of attention to people who are not my parents. They were the only permanence in my life, and somehow I find it disrespectful to stray from their needs and expectations. I guess they don't have faith in the industry in allowing me to succeed. However, it manifests as me lacking in talent and smarts for the job. They know I will never become a doctor, but they seem to put down any chance of me becoming anything else. Basically, it is a dead end. I might as well become a nurse, stay home and take care of them till they expire...

I fear that is my destiny...

I know. What a dour topic...

I just needed to vent.

Deontology

I know what you are thinking. Another big word as a header, what a pretentious writer...
I can acknowledge that I may seem to be certain things, but only I can see the underlying motivation for my countenance and actions. Do I have a fear of being more than I am? Yes, most definitely. Aren't we all? We would seem foolish, if we were guilty of this.

DEONTOLOGY- I forgot the exact definition. All I can recall is that it means: something you ought to do.
Words inspire me. Language is most profound when it used with proper inflection, diction, and syntax. In a nutshell, communication- the simple conveyance of the inner thoughts swirling in our personal cranium is the most beautiful thing in this world. I know there are other beautiful things, but let us focus on this topic.

All my life, I have struggled with my autonomy and the things demanded of me by parents and society. I know I am not an isolated case. For some reason, I found some peace with this dilemma. I feel no longer propelled to listen to anyone else- even if they say "you suck." I actually have not been lamenting on my imaginary chains.

I hate to admit this, but all the sudden I have this heaviness on my heart.

Maybe, it is because I saw "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button"...

I feel lonely. How can I feel lonely, when I never been the opposite? I think I know why. For one moment, I experienced the calming quietude of a parallel understanding, in other words, a mutual co-existence that can be likened to the feeling of a home. It was only a couple minutes, but in that moment, I believe I felt an aspect of love- a natural companionship. All I can say was that I was in a tent. I was working on my philosophy homework, and he was looking at music videos on my ipod. I will not go into details, because I do not want to appear any more sappy than I am now- disclosing my past romantic experience in a blog when stricken with a surprise hormonal depression. I feel warm recalling the experience, but empty on realization of the recall as a thought, not an actuality. I guess when there is nothing tangible, it is always missed. Sometimes, I feel as if my words do not penetrate others. I speak strangely at times, mostly in an abstract manner, because I'm not disciplined or sharp enough to deliver concise narratives. Someone understood my verbose handicap. I was only for a short time. He never really wanted me. However, I cannot help but feel grateful for the chance to be myself with someone. No filters. It was a vulnerable position that does more harm than good. Nevertheless, it made me realize that some of the most pleasurable and fulfilling experiences in life can come from communicating with another person. Also, soft yellow lighting from the tent added to the romantic aesthetic :)

Do not worry. No more LOVE posts. I hardly go into these types of rants. I believe its because I took one of my mom's 50+ multivitamins. It might of had extra hormones in it for menopausal women.

Happy New Year everyone.

Wow. I don't even write like this...

Oh well.

Sound of Silence

Sometimes, notthing came out. I was a bulimic purging an empty stomach. I was frustrated by the thought of a dry spell. Surely, it was an impediment to the glory of production...

Then this came out...

Grab the linoleum cover of your existential being. Release it into the languid dream of futural consciousness. This is the benchmark of progress. This is propulsion of the self against the viscious tides of deontological caps to the self will.

The fight is a necessary consequence to the liberation of the soul.

Stories to Tell

I think that will be my next installment on this blog. A little less rant and more humorous reflections on things that have passed...

Part 1:

A Quintessential Parisian Revelry

This is the actual photo of the room (courtesy of Ms. Elaine).


To be continued...

Leper Deontological Crisis

Many have said (in the most patronizing tone) "Life if what you make of it!"

Wise existential advice indeed, yet too optimistic and sugar coated in everything sweet and nice for my palette. It is an incredibly vague statement that falls short of the truth of our present circumstances. Instead, I would bitterly declare "Life is what it makes of you."

What is the difference, you may ask? An immense one, that divides so wide, that Indiana Jones could not possibly manage to maintain his balance on a "leap of faith". Most memorable as a narrow extension(Temple of Doom) taking the form of a frightful (for those that suffer from vertigo, or managed to watch the Hitchcock film an obsessive amount of time) bridge to the other side of the cavern. Whoa what a long analogy. Obviously, I am partial to them.

"You" on the end of the second mantra is a strategic placement of emphasis of the sentence itself. For those who have suffered the pitfalls of everyday existence, you all know that the ways of the world are out of our control. Thus, life is the antagonist, and we are the mere receivers of its whim. I do not believe the first mantra is very practical to say the least, it indicates that you are in charge of your happenings, almost stroking your inner fantasy for a fulfillment of a god complex. Something, I am very much addicted to. However, as paradoxical as it may be, acknowledging that you must take the blunt of the storm of "life" ( I know I sound like a New York Bestseller Christian Self-Help book, by the number of times I say LIFE ), only strengthens the foundation of the tree (ah! I said Tree, also a biblical symbol).

I have had my share of responses these supposed forces of nature. Nevertheless, I know I must maintain, be allusive, yet purport for what I want, for the satisfaction gained by reaching goals are my only means of survival and happiness.

I should not have had that beer an hour ago. I tend to write in a sentimental manner when I do so. At the beginning, I wanted to rant about the unfair situations I have encountered, not only for me, but for others I know.

I walked away from the living room in my matching blue monogrammed pajamas, and beige turban headband, clutching my MACBOOK. The white stick from the cherry dum dum pop protruded from between my lips, like an anorexic mock cigarette. Strange sight for those new to the household, but all too common for those who reside with me. I cannot recall why, but I walked with a particular stride up the stairs in this outfit, confident, but irritated by the fact that nothing will ever work with me again. What I mean is that, I always encounter things working against me- a new concept for someone who perpetually did that best to attain the best, becoming disappointed by the turn in my wheel of fortune. My ideal is never reached and those who offer nothing, but more the same often ascend, breeding homogeneity, manifesting the mundane lifestyle many so often forfeit for death.




Deficient in skills valuable to capitalistic society, I can honestly say that I will never be a candidate for the Ivies or any professional bureaucratic occupations. Strange, because this was always the longing of my nurtured heart, yet old news for my "nature".

Prospects are down, and the future is bleak for those that mutations of our proverbial gene pool. Only if the wheel of fortune would turn on the other side, then I would get a little satisfaction.

However, I am a firm believer that the misunderstood will always be the outcasts of society- that is a universal form of instinctive repulsion that luck cannot change.