Rantglass - because that's how things are.


Being meaningless is just as meaningless.

Being meaningless is just as meaningless.

So I sit here, waiting.
Waiting.
The skies turn grey, dark clouds gather.
Still it never comes.
Then you would get tired of waiting, wasting your time away. The seconds continue to tick; the hands continue to move. The music never ceases; the thoughts jumble up. I do believe things are going downhill, but there is not anything to do about it. Except to wait.
Oh, to hell with it.
And then the sun peeks out from behind the clouds.

...

Technology fails. This week alone, there were a number of power trips. My CD-writer appeared to have conked out, after barely a year of service – probably because I have been using it to both read and write CDs (my CD-ROM stopped functioning almost two years ago). Things like these tend to happen to me during the most critical moments, and it seems only fitting to attribute it to coincidence, as always. I just hate it when I have to resort to asking others for help. Sometimes people would expect things in return for extending a helping hand, but I am not sure if I should be glad to have a friend who, well, truly treats me as a friend and refuses to accept my little acts of gratitude.

There is always the notion that if you are a friend, then you should respond equally as one, and expect to help out in anyway possible. Although you fear that they might accidently drop your new and expensive video camera recorder, smashing it into a thousand pieces. Or that you feel dubious lending them your one and only black pen, full of sentimental value because it was bought from Belgium – and running out of ink as well. But you feel as though you must say yes because, heck, he is a friend. She is a friend. They are friends. A one word that seems to denote many meanings, open up many possibilities and expectations. Because if you do not help, then you are ‘not’ a friend. A mere acquaintance. That is why it could be hard to reply with a strong ‘no’.

...

And after a long stretch of dreamless sleep (actually, it is due more to my failure of remembering my dreams these days), I had a nightmare. I guess no one likes nightmares – but the one I had last night was plain disgusting and terrible. I just hope it would not happen to me in real life.

When you are dreaming, everything sure seems so real, although it can get a bit extraordinary at times. Or all the time. But when it feels real, you do not try to call yourself to wake up, simply because you do not realise that you are still in dreamland. And hey, this is no Hollywood.

It makes me consider taking back my words on wanting dreams to come true.

Details of this entry.Thursday, August 07, 2003, filed under Blogger Archives.
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