three in the morning productions

she makes me wanna die

A fine garrison that was. I ended up showering the party with my ~sunny~ presence. Why my parents insist on having me hang around like a brooding cloud of season anti-joy is a frazzling perplexity to me. I spent the time taking the funny faces of Kareen on my brother's digital camera. And then gave up after deciding that I'm just not camera-friendly at all.

The food, since it was buffet at a Chinese restaurant, wasn't exactly the feature attraction at your Filipino gathering. But that was okay because we were there for "spiritual nourishment." Manny Moe (now that's a name), gave his brotherly testimony and continually assured us that all this was "to make a long story short"--but I'm sure those people (I counted three) who took it for a little nap time didn't mind that the shortened version of his story creeped into a good hour. I was rather attentive throughout the whole affair. Probably because some of my loneliness has developed into silent admiration for her.

You may remember some time ago my mentioning of a missionary family who came to visit, and with them was a daughter for whom my father held great esteem. They returned for this occasion. Last night actually. Though I didn't know it until this morning when I burst into the room where I thought my parents had deliberately left Praise Music blasting for me. There she was, glancing up from her microphone and tape player, startled just as I was at the sudden intrusion. Amazing how I could be made to feel like I was the intruder in my own home. We both quickly scrambled to make apologies--she offered to sing softly and in turn I told her that I was only there to check out what was playing on the radio--but I'm sure it was quite obvious to her that I was there for the purpose of shutting it off, nevermind what it was. And then I told her it was lovely and to sing on. Truly, she does have a magnificent voice. In the rare times that we've spoken to each other, I've found out that she doesn't play the piano and has somewhat even revealed a dislike for it, which is rare in the combination of being a filipina and a daughter of a minister. Instead she plays the accordion. She's also very skilled in the art of puppetry, wouldyoubelieveit. And who knows the vast extent of her talent.

I think however that my fascination with her lies in the thought that she is the person I could have been.

Supposing that if I had continued believing in God... or supposing that if somehow, I allowed myself to be more obedient to my parents--but of course, that's ridiculous, because such suposings are entirely beyond my nature. Still, she has a quietness that, though this may merely be the production of my twisted imagination, can somehow become bridged to my raging personality. Because in the way she looks at me, she sees a person that she just possibly maybe could but never will be. And that there is something in her that wants to openly defy authority just as I do. But the more I think on it, the more I believe that, indeed, this is really all just my mind at its depravity.

I didn't realize it immediately, but something has definitely changed in me. Everyone senses it. Jemima, especially, since we were once closely linked. She asked and I told her that I wasn't angry with her. I couldn't stay angry with her if I put all my being into it. But that time alone with myself changed something. Though what, it's difficult to say: I'm always sullen nowadays. I'm afraid though--that this change might be temporary, and even more afraid that it might be permanent. If that is so, I'll end up hurting so many people... and that's not something I'm partial to. I believe, despite all my shortcomings and my self-deprecating drivels, that I am essentially a good person. I am capable of compassion and susceptible to hurt, and therefore I am the more human for it.

It's just that I've gone through several betrayals and disappointments in a matter of weeks.

So give me a break. Throw me a firken bone over here.

12.23.02 - 12:01 a.m.

	she makes me wanna die A fine garrison that was. I ended up showering the party with my ~sunny~ presence. Why my parents insist on having me hang around like a brooding cloud of season anti-joy is a frazzling perplexity to me. I spent the time taking the funny faces of Kareen on my brother's digital camera. And then gave up after deciding that I'm just not camera-friendly at all. The food, since it was buffet at a Chinese restaurant, wasn't exactly the feature attraction at your Filipino gathering. But that was okay because we were there for "spiritual nourishment." Manny Moe (now that's a name), gave his brotherly testimony and continually assured us that all this was "to make a long story short"--but I'm sure those people (I counted three) who took it for a little nap time didn't mind that the shortened version of his story creeped into a good hour. I was rather attentive throughout the whole affair. Probably because some of my loneliness has developed into silent admiration for her. You may remember some time ago my mentioning of a missionary family who came to visit, and with them was a daughter for whom my father held great esteem. They returned for this occasion. Last night actually. Though I didn't know it until this morning when I burst into the room where I thought my parents had deliberately left Praise Music blasting for me. There she was, glancing up from her microphone and tape player, startled just as I was at the sudden intrusion. Amazing how I could be made to feel like I was the intruder in my own home. We both quickly scrambled to make apologies--she offered to sing softly and in turn I told her that I was only there to check out what was playing on the radio--but I'm sure it was quite obvious to her that I was there for the purpose of shutting it off, nevermind what it was. And then I told her it was lovely and to sing on. Truly, she does have a magnificent voice. In the rare times that we've spoken to each other, I've found out that she doesn't play the piano and has somewhat even revealed a dislike for it, which is rare in the combination of being a filipina and a daughter of a minister. Instead she plays the accordion. She's also very skilled in the art of puppetry, wouldyoubelieveit. And who knows the vast extent of her talent. I think however that my fascination with her lies in the thought that she is the person I could have been. Supposing that if I had continued believing in God... or supposing that if somehow, I allowed myself to be more obedient to my parents--but of course, that's ridiculous, because such suposings are entirely beyond my nature. Still, she has a quietness that, though this may merely be the production of my twisted imagination, can somehow become bridged to my raging personality. Because in the way she looks at me, she sees a person that she just possibly maybe could but never will be. And that there is something in her that wants to openly defy authority just as I do. But the more I think on it, the more I believe that, indeed, this is really all just my mind at its depravity. I didn't realize it immediately, but something has definitely changed in me. Everyone senses it. Jemima, especially, since we were once closely linked. She asked and I told her that I wasn't angry with her. I couldn't stay angry with her if I put all my being into it. But that time alone with myself changed something. Though what, it's difficult to say: I'm always sullen nowadays. I'm afraid though--that this change might be temporary, and even more afraid that it might be permanent. If that is so, I'll end up hurting so many people... and that's not something I'm partial to. I believe, despite all my shortcomings and my self-deprecating drivels, that I am essentially a good person. I am capable of compassion and susceptible to hurt, and therefore I am the more human for it. It's just that I've gone through several betrayals and disappointments in a matter of weeks. So give me a break. Throw me a firken bone over here. 12.23.02 - 12:01 a.m.