Category: journal

personal drabbles, what would be my journal ?

the likes of those of old crows

Reading Time: 2 minutes

I spent most of today coding a little project and listening to old music. Both activities led to the other.

It’s in the dump for now, and you can try it out here. At the moment of writing I only have their ‘middle’ three albums and all of Folie a Deux, since adding songs to the library is boring and tedious and I do not work fast enough because of how easily I get distracted.

I justify this project as a ‘little tool’ that helps you search for song lyrics better. Yes, there is Google. But if Google was reliable enough then I would have stuck with it and not made this, right? The core features are pretty much there but not implemented good enough yet — since I have to learn and figure out how to. It lets you search all available albums, toggle some of them out, click on songs to view the full lyrics and highlight your search term within them. That’s it, and it’s only for Fall Out Boy — because sometimes some lyrics get stuck in my head and actually yeah I could just use Google but this would be faster and more efficient in case I suddenly remember a line, want to know the continuation of it, and paste it on my Twitter bio so I can act sentimental or pass Sporcle quizzes easier. (Speaking of which, I made one today too. God bless.)

I mostly look forward to fixing it up, making improvements, and looking at the code in utter disgust in a few weeks/months until it becomes a godlike search engine for emo lyrics.

The Piano Knows Something I Don’t Know” has been stuck in my head the whole day — which is strange since I never really cared much for the song until… today, when I realized that hey, I do care about it and it has brilliant lyricism. Today, it also dawned on me that the things I want to happen never probably will, even if they are the smallest of things as hearing my favorite songs live. I am condemned to dusty recordings and staring at glass panes for vinyls that will never be re-released — that kind of girl.

There’s nothing floating around my mind except the urgency to do more – even if it’s confinement to a chair, and creating endlessly. We are so fragile, but our works can be of permanence. At the moment, it’s just song lyrics, worries, self-doubt, meager self-proclaimed epiphanies that in a rational standpoint – would probably be degraded to thoughts resulting from a lack of sleep.

Let me be narcissistic for a while. You make me coffee-stained, ink on brinks and blinks. I know that I myself am a shadow, but that doesn’t mean I’m not better. Smile and offer them pity on the inside, smile in disgust at how ‘infallibly’ helpless you are. Text-book sociopath, prescription-ridden poet. But this is why the songs you hear are all from the broken hearts, and the success stories don’t come with a little bit of fight. I will get there. Hopefully farther than anyone else.

Tonight, the rain resigns to records and words that were never meant for it anyway.

Sunlight

Reading Time: 14 minutes

Normally, I would begin this with talking about exhaustion. My deflating belief in the world and everything within; every single moment, every single person, every single heart that roams across this planet. That is a lie, however. Beyond it all, there is always the underlying sense of the fact that: I know this world can do it. We are made of tearstains of fight, of the galaxies and beginnings, of lies and the end; but for now we will keep on living.

I am set to leave on a flight for a robotics competition in less than twelve hours. The airport anxiety never ceases to get to me — and the perplexing situation that I am in is further giving way to my unwaning fears. This is set to be for a robotics competition held in Inner Mongolia – an inner district in Ulanqab/Wulanchabu. Maybe it is how used I am to seeing information and details in the grasp of my hand within a few mere moments; but there is literally no information available towards this so called international open event when you google its name. Recalling the fact that literally of the information about this event was given to us through emails and haphazard word of mouth from the Philippine robotics organizers — I can’t help but to worry a bit.

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Exulansis

Reading Time: 11 minutes

As defined by the dictionary of obscure sorrows; exulansis is “the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.”

Exulansis is me finding reason in letting thoughts loose, never checking how they’re arranged, puzzling equations grasped together and intertwined; my mind is racing, never appeased and a constant. All is as it is.

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