Pursuing The Unrelated Dream?

Yes, it has been another while since I've written last on this platform, so here I am, writing again (typing, in this case) because recently I've come to terms once again with my, I dare say, love of writing. These days I write a lot, usually on my notebooks, to pour out my feelings as they psychologists say, and sometimes to lash out my anger. But mostly just to pour out my anxiety, sadness, anything I was feeling that particular day.

Writing has always been a therapy of mine, and I don't know why there was a time I stopped. Maybe it was because I thought I had lost my passion in writing, and I think, and I even dare say, that I forced myself to think that I am talented in the design world and a little bit of editing in Adobe Illustrator made me a designer and I felt so good and proud of myself. Of course, I was being naive, and it didn't stop me from pretty much telling the whole world I wanted to take the graphic design major once I step into college or uni. They only nodded, and being the big mouth I am, of course I also told everyone that my first choice of college or uni is abroad, by all means, another country, such as Australia, Canada, or even the United States.

But of course life isn't as sweet as caramel even though everybody who inhabits this planet including myself wished it had, so not all that you plan is going to go smoothly on course. I ended up not going abroad for uni (I decided to stop saying college because where I am going to attend for my higher education is actually a university), and staying here in my birthplace instead for my higher education. But I decided to pursue in the visual communications design, because I was and still am interested in it, and I maybe do have the slightest bit talent in arts, as I grew up drawing, spending thousands of papers in the process. Everybody (the adults) who watched me grow up knew by heart that I loved drawing, and it was a part of my everyday life. I, on the other hand, am only going to hope that part of me is still here and is going to help me pursue a major in the design world. 

Based on that psychology/talent/character test or whatever my school conducted which required each senior year student to take, my talents are actually quite the opposite of design. Well, not exactly an opposite, but it's quite different, I might say. Communications. Public relations. Communications - Journalism. Actress. Oh hey, journalism! Maybe I do have a talent in writing. Well, in the literature world, I think, since all my talents are of everything a literature subject is. But after consideration and consultations with everyone, I decided to still pursue design because I am interested in it, and also, my dad is an interior designer, so there's that. But then, there's the anxiety of being not good enough to actually fit in the design major because it's just wasn't written as part of my talents. That was also one of the reasons I considered, then re-considered, then considered again. But my family supported me in taking the design major and so did the counselor at school, so I decided that's that. 

Why the hell didn't you just take the communications major instead? Or even journalism? Well, based on that test, yes, I do have talents in those fields and I do actually feel like I have those talents. I love to write and to read, too. But I do it just for fun. I don't ever think about structure, in fact, I hate structure. I don't ever think that my writing is wrong, because it's just me writing whatever I want and me telling a part of my life in words I choose to express it. I hate that journalism has structure, and it's serious texts and serious writings where you have to actually think about what you write and actually express your opinions about a particular subject or about a recent news. I haaaate that I had to think and stress that out. I write and read only for fun, not to analyze and make all of that my lifetime. 

So yeah, that's my update, and it's so late already and thank God tomorrow's a Saturday. Nobody's going to read this anyway, but that's alright. Writing is my therapy anyway so this is just a good night's therapy session for me. Even though I am publishing this, it's not like the whole world's going to read what I wrote, right? Right.

ANYWAYS, SELF PROMOTING RIGHT HERE:

I HAVE A YOUTUBE CHANNEL! youtube.com/gabrielletorino

I post beauty related videos and I'm constantly on MIA lmao that sucks, I know, but I'm working on it. But sometimes I'm also confused why am I working on it because I don't really have subscribers and nobody cares. But well, there's that. 

Thanks for reading this nonsense, if you are. I hope I don't stress you a lot.

-Gaby x

Involuntary Actions

It's been more than a year since the last time I wrote on this platform. And this made me think of the reasons why I haven't been writing as often as I used to for the past year, when writing was (and I guess still is) one of my best therapy sessions. A personal one, at least. I guess it never bothered me anymore to write or, generally speaking, express my thoughts and opinions to the world (even though this platform isn't the world). Anyway, I might know one of the reasons, I guess.

For the past year, most of the time now, I am already used to being called stupid. My actions are stupid, what I say mostly are stupid, I am stupid. However in this case, I am not academically speaking. My friends call me stupid most of the time for the course of my actions, and I've been called that a lot I started believing it myself. Well, I actually am stupid. And by stupid I think I am acting impulsive involuntarily. And it's getting often now that it's bothering me, too.

Most of the time I would say or do something involuntarily, which I would regret afterwards. A lot of these actions involve my friends, too, and because of my involuntary actions, they would be pissed at me. This made me think a lot. Why did I say that? Why did I do that? If I didn't make that decision wouldn't have everything been better by now? 

There was this one time I strolled around a mall by myself, and I walked into a toiletry store famous for its beautiful scents. I looked around the scented candle section and found, of course, a wide variation of beautiful scented candles. As I smelled these scented candles, I came across one that smells of fresh flowers, which instantly reminded me of my best friend. She had her birthday just about two days before that, and she would have a birthday celebration after. I wanted to buy that candle for her, because she loves scented candles and also fresh flowers. The point is, I just wanted to buy that candle for her because it's just really her. But then I contacted my friends in a group chat we created (for the planning of her birthday surprise) and asked if they wanted to join me on buying that candle for her, because if they didn't want to, I would still buy it for her under only my own name. They mostly were like, "Whatever, Gab, do whatever you want.". Of course I bought that candle. 

A few days later when we've given our gift to her, and we were alone without her, one of my friends just sarcastically said that we could've given her something else, or wait, we could've given her that candle she wanted from that specific store (not the store I bought it from)! Well, but anyway, Gaby's made an impulsive decision already so what could we do?

When she said that, I was just thinking about it. Why did I make such an impulsive decision? It's not difficult to think about my actions in the long term, so why was I really... Stupid? It's just getting too often that I made impulsive decisions and do things involuntarily that it would cause an effect on other things and other people. Maybe my friends are right, that I am stupid, and for that I recently just agreed and stayed quiet to think before I do something to be regretted. If that means to be mocked stupid over and over again even though they were just joking around, well I guess so be it. They'd rather have me stay quiet and nod when they mock me rather than saying something really brutal but then being mocked again for angrily protesting them and hurt their feelings, right?

But like they said, the hardest parts in life are the ones that actually would make you a real learning person. So I guess having them do this to me probably is making me a person, too. But anyway, what I wanted to say in the beginning was that maybe this was one of the reasons why I stopped writing my mounting thoughts and feelings. Because I'm used to keeping my feelings to myself and just nod along, and I can't tell anyone else how I feel about them really just being like this to me. I know they're just joking around on me and they've been really awesome and kind and they're just there for me, but being this way kind of stressed me out. 

Anyway, maybe this is a lesson for me to stop doing everything without thinking about it for the long term first. This is also a lesson for me not to take impulsive decisions, and, just think about everything else before I do things.

Oh and by the way, I wrote about this post on my phone the night before and the blogger app was really shitty. I was ready to post this and it couldn't be posted, so I have this reflex of pressing the cancel option, and it was gone. My whole writing was gone, and that writing was less emotional than this one and it was definitely more controlled. This writing felt emotional and quick (because I've written this before and I just feel the need to get it out there so I needed to repeat it), but it wasn't as good as the original writing. And that also makes me feel emotional.

Good night x

Died Flowers

I don't know what changed, maybe I did or maybe everyone else just goes with the flow but I'm stuck on trying to make everyone else laugh on my jokes and it eventually dies down. I don't know what changed, maybe they found no more interest in me and I feel empty from not being searched for anymore and not being loved as a close friend like I used to be. It still matters, trying to make my close friends laugh to my jokes or just simply notice I am always there with them. It still matters until I feel like it almost doesn't anymore, like I'm just another one of those annually thrown-out-of-the-group annoying girls we 'threw', annually since seventh grade. My closest friend since sixth grade ditched me for her phone, I was never that close to my other two friends, and the other one who I shared secrets with also distanced away, but at least not so much. At least she still appreciates me. I don't feel like being one of them anymore, I don't even know why I ever was in the first place. Was it just a bond over the same acquaintance, forced by the universe in a join everyone else is scared of? I don't even feel like that. I don't even know what I want anymore. 

The point is, my friends don't feel like they're my friends anymore, and who knows what changes or what shifted in our plates of our little strong-bonded called universe, but it changed. And I feel it deep to my soul. And it hurts, you know. It hurts that they don't look for me, they don't even notice if I was there or not, and they just don't care. Maybe I'm being harsh on these words and I'm overreacting, as my closest friend would say that I'm too pessimistic. There isn't any denial in that state she gave. But really, I am tired on being pushed around, having to please everyone else, but if I stayed quiet they all think I'm mad. I'm tired of everyone thinking of that. These days I feel like I want to disappear into another life, and just try to start over everything, not fuck it up like I always did. I don't know if I did or if it's just a change in our little universe, but like I said, it had changed. But if there's a question about what will I do then, I won't know what the answer is, either. 

2015

Happy new year, you guys. I still can't believe it's 2015 already, 2014 has been a wonderful year. There are ups and downs, laughter and cries, and it's all over now. I'm really excited to begin this new year, well, just like every new years I've ever been through, actually. But I learned through the years that resolutions just get down to two things now. 

1) Be happy

2) Don't fuck up

So yeah, that's all I could ever come down with for the resolutions. Because well, all the specific resolutions I wrote these years was just the effect of the January 1st spirit, and it's gradually gone throughout the days in the year. 

All I could really hope for in this new year is to be happy and not fuck up in life. It's been too good, and it's a damn shame if I were to mess it all up. 

I'm really sorry if I've been really inactive in my blog (not that anyone reads it anyway), but I've actually thought of being active in my blog just for the sake of myself, for my hobby of writing. And guess what, I haven't been. 

In one of my posts before this, I wrote that it all feels in a fast forward motion, like everything is going really fast and that has come to this day. We've turned a new page in a new book.

Happy new year 2015 everyone!

Rant

I used to write stories with my wandering imagination. Thoughts of places I had wished to live in, the life of the people I had wondered to live, what are their thoughts, what do they feel everyday? So I invented a fictional little life that was revolving around only in those papers. Honestly, writing felt like being God. God of this little life I was creating with black ink on blank white paper, and a touch of wild imagination. It was up to me what that life would be, how the people looked like, what their thoughts are. It was like magic, being lost in my living, but dead creation.

But I started to live real life, not that I lived a fake one before. I felt love, or at least I thought I felt it. It was a complicated thing, and when all my thoughts had been filled with only that one person, it felt magical and surreal. It was't quite unfamilliar, as I was easily attracted to guys even since before I still wrote my life-but-dead creation. But this was different. He filled my whole 24/7, and my imagination was almost replaced by thoughts of him, and of us. 

That was when I started to write poetry. All of my thoughts, that are now of him and us, all of my real feelings (this creator's feelings; not the feelings she created on her little life) were poured into the blank papers, stories replaced by poetry. Even when I was mad, or filled with lust, or having other unnamed complicated feelings (e.g.: wanting to be one with the sea, feeling the pull of the waves, that feeling when you look at the gray sky [but it wasn't sad], the relaxed feeling of listening to electronic indie music, etc.), I write. But I write poetry, and it is my activity closest to therapy. 

I don't know if my ability to write imaginative stories and life plots is still there, but I am comfortable now in writing poetry about my real feelings. 

Because I personally think poetry doesn't have to make sense. Call me stupid, but great poets write linguistic complicated poetries which I don't recall to understand, and therefore makes it non-understandable: it doesn't make sense. It makes sense to other people who have a high rate of intelligence, but to us teenagers? It doesn't make any sense.

So when I write poetry, as long as it expresses how I feel: possibly too tired / angry to think, which resulted in poetry with no metaphors, just straight thoughts at the time, or vice versa, then it is poetry to me. Because I don't write poems in terms of other people's enjoyments in my writing, no. I write poems as a a way to express how I feel, in my own words, and being so much more free. Freedom to speak; in this case, to write. 

But overall, all I was trying to say is that I love literary. Not the heavy ones, just the light ones. Literary is my therapy, perhaps the thing that keeps me sane everyday. The kind of literary I am interested in nowadays, as you have read, is in poetry. But I used to write stories, and even now I am writing a rant about my love in literary. Well, cheers.  

They Who Once Had Love

There was no mistake / in the sparks that flew / when their eyes met / and they joked together// There was no mistake / in her smile and stares / his love for her that day / the day she refused to accept his love// There was no mistake / in either one of them / that they still had something / ‘til the day everyone thought / it was all lost and gone // There was no mistake / when I tried / to fit in between them / and couldn’t break their spark / and ended up feeling / like how I was that day / when she refused his love / which I wanted as bad / as a drowning man grasping for air // History was upon them / history was to be drawn once more / which flew back from the past / and dawned on their eyes / to sparks that flew between them / their love for each other / that was never on the same time // It was beautiful, you see / if I was / someone else.

Decressendo

Oh where the stars collide

Filling the vortex of cosmo

Empties the universe

The bursting sorrow

The jolting pain

Oh where the field of flowers

Burn in the blasting red

No, they aren’t roses

Air was smoke

If I could vaporate

Empty dark ocean

Rolling waves: continuous

Which I have wished to be

Deep down there that time

They looked at each other

There is no neglecting

In how the moon used to be in love

With the wolf

But never on the right time

But I am an astro dot

In the sky at night

Right beside the moon

Completing, but

Never could we be

Really together