Some fragments
I got different friends complaining to me that my blog reads, well…not really boring, but somehow distant and impersonal, which is to say, that I don’t talk about myself. I never considered these two urgent shortcomings of any blog. However, since only my friends read this, it is equally important not to upset them! However, the problem is, I get bored pretty soon when I start to write about myself, what’s there to say? I’m just an average person who would rather live her life without being talked about too much. So every time I do start gossiping about my own life, it never finishes and renders a completely something worth blogging, hence I can only show/reveal/confess some unfinished fragments that I scribbled in the last week or so, when I was drunk/depressed/felt some sudden rush of adrenalin, etc.
Fragment 1: 3rd June 2009
The date is approaching, 3rd June already, one day left to go. Two friends of mine are talking about going for a walk to the Square tomorrow, and probably drinking from a large bottle of Sprite, I think that wouldn’t be long before we get cuffed and sent to the public security bureau.
Fragment 2: 31st May 2009
I thought I’ve got over the sentimentality of songs or voices that are filled and fueled by melancholy. But after half a beer, I feel totally impaled, penetrated by the singing of Patrick Bruel, whom the usual me would consider kitsch rather than art. Btw, it’s easy to understand the lyrics even just with my broken French.
I don’t know whether this sudden rush of feelings is for what reason at all, maybe this somebody, maybe not a person in particular at all, perhaps just the musicality so intrinsic that dwells inside the French language itself. Until this day, I don’t even know whether what I think/feel is real or not, perhaps I am just platonian, chasing after the vision of a silouette of perfection. I can’t be asked whether I like someone, or whether there is any usual romanticism left in me at all, I can’t even tell how such a feeling/urge could be pinned down and recognised. Sometimes I feel that it’s hard for me now to feel something at all for another human being (male creatures above all), so maybe even when I just have found a trace of it, I shouldn’t have let it wither and waste.
And also, why does my phone rings non-stop, but disappoints me every time?
Fragment 3: 30th June 2009
I am not as sentimental as I used to be, but neither, I’m not as tough and indifferent as I thought I was. I can’t feel the head-to-toe type of passion, but it doesn’t mean that I have lost my ability of feeling. I’ve been trying by now, and I’ve used many excuses to stop myself from actually admitting this, but the fact is, There is someone whom I care. This is ridiculous, not only because it doesn’t make sense. But also because, logically, this is someone whom I barely know. By now, even sending a casual text message would make me feel slight bizarre, but nonetheless, I can’t get my head around the truth that something stays on my mind and refuses to leave!
