i find myself incredibly fucking boring. how on earth did i reach this point, blogging about every single trivial thing that I’d done for the past 7 years? admittedly i’ve blogged much lesser these days because it’s becoming clearer everyday to me that i’m about as interesting as watching paint dry. i do, i do want to blog about the cool events that i’ve been attending regularly, but all i could muster up are that i was there, food was good, and then i’d be stuck. everytime i start, i’d be asking myself: who would want to read this? and most often times the answer is none. what is wrong with me? i used to be able to go on and on about some place i’d went or someone i’d met but nothing excites me anymore.
i want to write about charlie. how my heart melts when he looks at me with his puppy eyes. how my heart opens up with happiness whenever he promptly runs to me upon calling him. how i’m so proud that my dog is such a well-behaved mutt. how i feel strangely contented whenever charlie passes a big solid turd that i could pick up and dispose with ease. but would anyone of you waste 2 minutes of your life reading about me and my dog’s poop? seriously.
it’s not all love and bed of roses with charlie. now and then i feel the urge to write about how i wish i had never adopted charlie because my social life has been systematically destroyed. how i regretted getting him whenever i get stuck in a traffic jam while on the way to pick him up from the sitter. how i secretly considered dumping him somewhere whenever i felt like eating at a pet-unfriendly restaurant. there, i’ve said it, sometimes i wish i never had charlie. didn’t i just open myself up for some bashing?
i want to write about the little things in life that crack me up. and some things that get me in a major ass bitch mode. like how when i was dining alone at rakuzen this evening and while i was so happily flipping through the menu, i noticed that all the pages were disintegrating from the bottom upwards and i couldn’t make out a lot of the words printed. yet i was unperturbed and proceeded to order a chirashisushi set and an onigiri – both of which were massive and came with a big bowl of miso soup each. and just very suddenly i was filled with rage because the waitress who took my order knew i was alone but yet did nothing to warn me against the portion of the food. and then i was filled with even more rage because i was paying good money for my dinner at a reasonably classy japanese restaurant but yet they had the cheeks to give me a ratty, tattered menu. and at that moment i wanted to blog about it and rant about it but a while later, i was thinking….could i have made more effort to ask for a change of menu?
maybe i’ve lost that fire in me. i just can’t figure out whether it’s a good or bad thing.
today i got a text from my brother. he’s fighting with my mom. i called mom to check if she’s okay and she seems fine, but after talking about it for a while, i could hear that she was desperately trying to stifle her tears. my heart broke into a million pieces. then i texted my brother and heard his side of the story. nobody’s perfect. not my brother. not my mom and not myself. i had my fair share of stupid arguments with my mother and whenever i think back now, i wish i had the wisdom i have today so i won’t hurt my mom or myself so much then. a lil background on how mad (and i mean mad in the most literal sense – when i was a wee 16 yr old i locked my mom out of the house and taunted her till she almost threw a brick through the sliding doors; and yes i have no doubt i got it from her).
i’m seeing exactly the same thing happening between mom and him now and i wish i could impart this wisdom into my brother – why fight and talk back when you can just smile and admit that you’re a young stupid fool to your mother. we owe that to her, my brother.
i guess then it’s a good thing losing that fire, that fiery temper that hurt so many people and myself. but damn, i wish i still have it while i was at rakuzen.