Idiosyncrasies

A little imagination goes a long (long, long, looooong) way
   
   
   
I guess you could say I have an
overactive imagination. I catch myself daydreaming a lot lately, so much that
there are times when I’d rather daydream than sleep (at least THOSE dreams I
can control). What else can I do? I can’t help it. It’s how I keep myself
entertained. It keeps me happy, and it saves me from utter boredom. Due to
recent events, I’ve discovered having a vivid imagination is also effective in
other areas of life: it helps erase crushes AND it boosts gym workouts, too.   
   
   Ever had this huge crush that
just refused to go away, no matter how hard you try to get rid of it? Some
crushes still linger, no matter how many years pass, right? I accidentally
discovered how to banish them. While running on the treadmill, a guy who looked
a whole lot like a former crush got on the treadmill next to mine. Of course I
just HAD to glance at him, and appreciate just how much of a dead ringer he
was. That was, until he started running.   
   
   Oh boy.   
   
    Picture a beautiful sunset on a white,
sandy beach. There’s a buxom, bikini-clad porn star running towards her man.
Everything’s in slow motion, and you, the viewer, are left eager for their
meeting, anticipating that romantic, Hollywood-esque encounter.   
   
    Well now, that would’ve been
great if Mr. Dead Ringer ran like the man
in the vision. But no, I think in this particular scenario, I would be more of
the masculine runner, given my running form. Mr. Dead Ringer’s running form was
extremely feminine: he ran like the buxom, bikini-clad porn star – pinky finger
sticking out, wrists slightly bent, arms moving gracefully back and forth, with
swaying hips to match.   
   
    My jaw literally dropped open and I
was staring at Mr. Dead Ringer in awe for quite some time. You see, my former
crush was quite the man – no trace of femininity – and so seeing Mr. Dead
Ringer was like seeing my macho crush running like a woman. And that’s
definitely a deal breaker. Good-bye crush remnants! I had to get off the
treadmill to recover from what I saw.   
   

   When I got back on the treadmill
sometime later, I was in for a pleasant surprise. There was this foreigner who
ended up occupying the one next to mine – and he kinda looked like Michael
Owen, my favorite football player (the hair, eyes, jaw, and height). Too bad he
didn’t run like Owen. Hehe. It was nice to imagine I was running next to my
favorite football star. Definitely gave me a better run (I think I managed the
first 2K in 10mins 37 secs)

   
   
   Hmmm… God is telling me to go
back to playing football, I’ve been away long enough. Hehe. It’s a sign! (I
know, I’d just like to find a good excuse to get back to playing,
thankyouverymuch!)

Have I grown up?
I hope I have NOT.
Some people relate growing up with the weirdest, most depressing things.
I don’t want to grow up if growing up means becoming numb.
I don’t want to grow up if it entails choosing friends based on what they can do for you.
I don’t want to grow up if it means I’ll be frowning 90% of the time.
I don’t want to grow up if it means I have to become impatient.
I don’t want to grow up if it means I’ll have to stop dreaming big.
I don’t want to grow up if it means I have to stop making mistakes.
I don’t want to grow up if it means I shouldn’t trust anyone.
I don’t want to grow up if it means my world won’t be as bright as I once perceived it to be.
I don’t want to grow up if it means I can’t eat, drink and be merry from time to time.
I don’t want to grow up if it means I have to compromise what I believe in.
I don’t want to grow up if it entails becoming robotic.
I don’t want to grow up if I’m to find out sincerity is a myth.
I don’t want to grow up if it means falling in and out of love destroys other people
I don’t want to grow  up if I have to turn into anyone other than myself.
I don’t want to grow up if it means being afraid of daring
I don’t want to grow up DEAD.
I just don’t want to be jaded, that’s all.
Is that what being grown up is all about?
They claim to be enlightened
Could it be they’re just worn-out?
Disheartened?
Broken?
What ever happened to "Shoot for the moon, if you miss, at least you’ll be among the stars?"
Is this a lie adults tell children?
And when you’re a certain age, they take it all back and leave you with "Be reasonable."
It’s  not that I don’t want to grow up…
I just don’t want to grow up to become…
Those people.
I want to dream (…believe and survive? Hahaha! Yuck!Ang corny!)
But more importantly, I want to make it HAPPEN.
But how do you make something happen…
When the people you need to believe…
Just don’t.
Not because they can’t….
But because they simply won’t?

Darn coins….sigh. Darn, darn, darn.

Warning: incoherent rambling (read: I’m the only one who will understand what all this really means) Read on only if you have nothing (and I mean NOTHING) better to do.

Katangahan.
Talaga.
Four months of randomness.
Amd I’m still waiting.
Four long months of nothing.
NOTHING
November’s off
Bet’s off
thanks, dude
I owe you bigtime.
But I still can’t sleep.
It still makes me think.
I still make me think.
The songs still make me think.
Swimming pools make me think.
GL2s  make me think.
Great White Sharks make me think.
Sunburns make me think.
Red cars make me think.
Even Michael Ballack makes me think
More than Michael Owen does
Hmmm.
Michael (O) vs. Michael (B)
Interesting.
Go England!
Tear ‘em apart!
But how?
How can THEY not know?!
HOW??!
How can they not CARE?
When you’re practically there
and EVERYONE gives a damn
Yikes! Scary stuff
Things I cannot fathom
Things I dare not ponder any further
Or I’ll go crazy
Because all it takes are four measly letters
IN ANY ORDER
And I start thinking.
A LOT
It’s not as easy as I thought.
I don’t need a picture
Though I have many
That I try not to look at
But I needn’t look at them
to remember everything
EVERY SINGLE THING.
All the splashes
Frog races and flip flops
Down to the four slices of watermelon
and the magic number
and the magic number
and the magic number
Who knows
Maybe it’ll still happen
World Cup is a year away
Now if only I could hold my breath
For even half as long as Santa can
Maybe, just maybe
I’d stand a fighting chance
Then again…
Would I pay 600 Euros for a final game?
Hell, yeah. If I had the money.
If not… I’d just…
look around, dream….
and plan my "Only You"-esque adventure.

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I miss football.
I miss the beach.
and Santa, too.
I know, I know… all bets are off.
I just can’t help it!!!

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