help! i've fallen and i can't get up!

the first time i fell in and out of love... i fell a long way.

i fell very long, and i fell very hard... my head snapped back, and my body was crushed by the impact, and i swear i almost died.

the second time i fell in and out of love... i posted my arm out to catch myself, and broke it.


"well, that sucks..."


the third time i fell in and out of love... i stood up, dusted myself off and shrugged.


"must have tripped..."


the way i see it, one of two things will eventually happen:
1) everytime i fall in and out of love from now on, it will be as if i never went anywhere.
or
2) i won't bother getting up anymore.


and then it'll really suck.

dear lord, hear my rant

is it written on my face? is there a sticker stuck on my back that says, "screw me over!"?

take advantage of me, i won't notice. use me, i won't care. insult me, it'll make you feel better.


"hark! the human punching bag has arrived!"

"he's like a towel! if you wring him, sure he gets a little twisted, but hey!, he'll pop back into shape in no time flat!"

"my god, bob, you've got so many faults, its just too easy for anyone to tell you off... i mean, give you advice."

"hey, bob. glad you're here! now i won't feel like the dumbest ass in the room! you complete me!"


i've been lied to, played the fool, insulted, humiliated, torn apart, kicked, prodded, pissed on, betrayed and all manner of crap that i can hardly stand to think of right now.


"but bob, it's not their fault you get shit on! you let them do it to you! you have a choice, you know... dumb ass."


i hear that all they time and everytime, all i do is smile. because, sure, its true. my behaviour and actions just compel people to think,"i can use this guy. i don't know how yet, but by golly its gotta be done. it's be such a pity and a waste not to... besides, its just toooooo easy."

and i tell myself its, ok. somebody has to lose in a game. it makes me a better person. it builds character. it offers me a more well-rounded life experience. yup. i'm the foundation of other people's success, and that ain't bad. i make other people feel better about themselves and that's the greatest gift you can hope to give anyone. the least important word in the english language is "I".

play it again, sam. i'm still only 24.

something about today

the 23rd of july.

there's something about it (apart from the fact that its the birthday of my biggest crush).

its probably just me but it just seems to pop up alot. i've seen it in movies, newspapers, print ads, grand openings, concert openings, commercials, etc... i think there's a blog somewhere dedicated to the number 23... of course, i'm not talking about just the number 23, but the 23rd of july.

anyone else think so?


p.s. happy birthday you.

dude... where's my car?

when i was young, i forget how old... i used to have this toy robot that i was particularly attached to (man, i love robots!).

well it turns out one day my mom threw it away. she didn't say anything. i just came home from kindergarten one day and the robot was gone.

at about the same time i had this bolster (for any non-asians reading this, a bolster is a cylindrical pillow-like thing that you can hug to sleep. just think a 4-foot soft phallic stuffed cotton thing about 8 to 10 inches in diameter and you're probably not far off... and boy you guys don't know what you're missing, i'll tell you that...)

ANYWAY, it was a security bolster that i would carry around almost everywhere (there's kids sizes, too). but guess what? i came home one day and it was gone.

same thing happened to my pacifier. it just magically disappeared. i knew where it was kept, too. top drawer near the kitchen sink. looked for it one day but it wasn't there anymore.

my security blanket disappeared under similarly mysterious circumstances. i had that till i was pretty old actually...

then there was the dog. fifi was a cocker spaniel. she was a gift for (my brother? my sister? i don't remember...) since we got her as a puppy she wasn't house-trained so there was a mess that we always had to clean up. after a while though, yup, you guessed it... fifi was gone.

all these things i loved so much, disappeared without a trace. i know what you were trying to do mom. but i sometimes wish you didn't.

thank you.

haven't i seen you before?

after 3 to 4 years in an educational institute that preaches the development of a person as an individual, we mark the occassion of their birth into society by making them wear funny shaped hats and dressing them all up in gowns, and hand them a roll of paper declaring that they are smart.

10,000+ completely unique and special individuals all dressed in blue gowns spring forth each year to live the rest of their lives as one of a kind. They'll all go, in their own unique way, to work every morning at 9 am, break for lunch at 1pm, come back from lunch at 2 and work until 6 (but more often than not, 7 or 8). They'll all raise their special, loving families and have cute, lovable (harhar) children who will in turn go to school and wear uniforms tailored to the specific individual child and the whole original, never before seen process starts again (well not again, because its an original and brand new cycle... but, yeah...)

you get the picture.

i don't want to disappear like that. nuh-uh. and neither should any of you.


happy graduation and a fruitful rest of your life! bob loves you!

do everything, turn, turn, turn...

People want to be heard. And its amazing how much we reveal of ourselves through not what we say, but how we say it.

Oh sure, all the women in the world will be slapping their foreheads and laughing at "the stoopid man-things-who-can't-tell-a-wink-from-dirt-in-my-eye" but yeah, its something i recently experienced in a way entirely new to me...

now i'm writing this and suddenly i realize i can't put it down in a way that the person in question will not recognize himself/herself... and now that i'm no longer fairly anonymous (curse the allure of vanity!)... i'm beginning to think i started a post with nowhere to go with it...

this has links to one of my very first posts... about why we keep online diaries and how secrets aren't really secrets... and its also similar to, "i didn't say anything, but you know and i know, and thats good enough for me..."

man i really don't know where i'm going with this, seriously... and its been happening a lot lately... write and write and hope it gets somewhere... but it doesn't... man, its scary... if not absolutely frustrating...

little help here?

durgh...

its been a couple days now since i put my picture up...

you'd think it'd drive sales or something like that but nooo, all i got was 1 comment from my sister, a careless mention on msn and my photo splashed all over an all-male mailing group!

thanks alot Joe! (nice to know you come around though...)

so its official then... i'm forever condemned to the doldrums of mediocrity, never to sail amongst the clouds and be bathed by the shimmering rays of the sun and washed by the cool showers of the morning dew... to ride the waves of the crashing seas nor ride atop the crest of an endless rainbow... ah... such is the poor pitiful state of me...



i refuse to believe it though....

oh look! pictures!

you know, i've heard of people who's blogs became famous after they posted pictures of themselves... and since i'm just coming off of an article on narcissism... i might as well do the same.... not that you'll have anything to gain, of course... but hey, you can't make me believe for a second that you read this blog for the articles... no..freakin'.. way....

so here you go! a picture of me! courtesy of my friend, S**g... (can't put his whole name in, coz i didn't ask... but you know who you are... weird guy... )

ok, finally we reach the point where the words no longer flush with the... hey! damn it!

i was shot in the head... did you notice? dead and loving it... one for the road... wrong end of a loaded gun... cruisin on easy street... long walk off a short pier... my gawd that damn tan line is ugly...



oh, NOW you read it for the articles... sure sure... whatever tickles your fancy... but you know and i know, don't we...?

"not i", said the fox

it really is very hard to not talk about yourself...

i mean, for one thing, the very essence of blogging lies in one's own narcissitic desire to make known to the world the presence of the "me", or at the very least to show the world 'the world' through the eyes of the "I".

i read somewhere that you should always start your resume with "you" or "your" and never, ever, with "I". look at your own resume right now and tell me honestly you didn't do it. i dare you.

now try re-writing it so that it starts with "you" or "your" without making it sound cheesy or butt-kissy... and you're in for one looong night i promise you...

already in this article i made mention of myself almost twice as much as i did you... and even then, its always "I" before "you" except after... well, "I".

go out and try it, ask anyone any question about anything and record how many times he or she answers with "I think..." or "Hmm... I never thought about that..." or makes reference to himself or herself even to the most far removed questions like, "Is Saddam gay?" or "Why are there hundreds of species of dogs and cats yet no one can accept the fact that humans beings might be similarly classified?"

whats the point of all this you ask?








'hell if i know...