On sadness and eloquence: a collection of nonsense and sensibilities of a pseudo-intellectual

I have written and deleted this sentence quite a few times already. I don't know where to start or what to write about. I just felt like listening to the clacking sound of my aging computer. I like to feel that I am in control of whatever it is that has jumpstarted this whole writing bug. I am writing again because I am sad. The reason for my sadness is not important. The tone of what I write and how I write it is.

Whenever I ramble on with nonsensical themes and imagery, I am just plainly sad. Not as verbose as the profoundly sad me. I could not be as eloquent as a diesel engine with a hundred percent efficiency when I am just sad. What encompasses this profundity you may ask? I myself do not know.

I am writing because I am vain that way. This is the superficial me talking. I compensate for a lot of things by exploding verbal fireworks that upon critical scrutiny fails every literary criteria for aesthetics and prose. But most people would not notice that. It's all about the power struggle between the people who knows and who don't. Information is a powerfult thing. Control of information is a devastating weapon. Having unequal distribution of information keeps them doctors and politicians rich and famous.

What does this mean then? I have disjointed thoughts. No cohesion whatsoever. But English sort of works like them smoke and mirrors magicians use to enchant their audiences. Making them believe that the beautiful assistant disappeared into thin air. English in this country makes you seem smarter than you are. Another layer of pretentious armor that prevents people from truly understanding who someone is.

FINAL HANDOUT

https://docs.google.com/open?id=0B2oB75dVmtsPdkFxRU9QSjZRZXVBSnNLanQ3OXVwQQ

Periodic Trends 1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGz4YgTTs8Q

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLuXJQ_uHdE&feature=channel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfM413ogE4k&feature=channel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvSmfgxCSNQ&list=UUjARGKE-qcytCS4vwrJPFjA&index=30&feature=plcp

These are really useful review materials:

http://web.fccj.org/~ethall/period/period.htm

http://electronconfiguration.info/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqWL0WMtlYk

SUPER Handout

Sorry for the late post. Dorm internet is down.


here's the link.

https://docs.google.com/open?id=0B2oB75dVmtsPT3V0bkNEcmFRQWFaVXpXcFRlSXpUdw

or

http://dw4.convertfiles.com/files/0137963001331038725/super%20handout%20chem.pdf

That Hypothetical Feeling

I've always wondered how it felt. I've always dreamed about it, I dreamed of how I could be the reason for your smile, how I could be the reason for that playful giggle, that teasing look.

I've always wondered how it felt. I have longed for the warmth of your embrace. I have been longing. Always waiting. Waiting for that moment that the sparkle in your eyes screams my name, waiting for that moment that I could be worthy.

I have always wondered how it felt. I have wondered how it felt to hear you call out my name, to feel the rush of holding your hands, to feel the blissful lightness of your hair brushing against my skin.

I have often wondered how it felt. That feeling of being loved back, of being needed of being yearned for. That feeling of reciprocity. Those feelings I've never felt.

My naivete is my downfall. I fill these gaps with what ifs and hypothetical feelings. A blanket of ethereal comfort. A deceitful warmth. An illusion.

Until that day comes when I actually feel, I'll still dream.

Dream of warmth and of love. Of how it might feel. Dream of fluttering butterflies in the stomach, of clammy hands, of teary eyes. I'd still dream of slipping that ring into your fingers.

I'd still dream of forever. With you.

Retrospect: 1st Minor Editing

Feb 26, '10 5:58 AM for everyone

I ride the Ikot jeep sparingly now. Maybe because it reminds me too much of you. It reminds me of those beautiful morning rides we used to have. Those moments where your hair danced in the wind, where your face was so full of life, where I could just forget everything else in the world. I cannot experience that anymore. 

I bitterly laugh at myself each time I catch myself staring at the building that was your stop. Back then, the jeep ride seemed too short. I always hoped the route never ended. I always hoped that time would suddenly slow down. I always hoped that you would look back at me as the jeep pulled away, waving your hands  and smiling. You never did. Though it was clear that I felt something and you did not; I still took those jeep rides. I simply thought that maybe, just maybe I could just be contented with us being friends and I would outgrow the feelings I had at the time. I never did.

I wondered why you never changed the way you talked to me after I told you how I felt. But that was only my assumption. I guess you changed, I only refused to see it. Those small changes lead to the fateful event a few nights before my birthday. The night that put a wall between our worlds, drawing the line on where I stand and where you are. I was running head-on into a brick wall, you said. I would only hurt myself if I would continue the things that I used to do. Forgive me if its not that accurate. Memories tend not to be remembered clearly if it were painful ones. Anyways, that was a real punch in the face; a reality I had to live with for the rest of my life.

There were many things I wanted to ask you that night, I was bursting with questions. I just could not spit it out. Maybe it would all be useless to ask them anyway. I just walked away. I felt that already knew the answers. Nothing in this world could make you change your mind.

But if you would ask me now how I feel, I would say I feel exactly the same way as I did the day I told you that I had feelings for you. I still feel exactly the same the day you told me to stop doing what I was doing. Nothing has changed with what I felt. The only things that changed are the circumstances that prevent me to express it out loud, to fully appreciate the wonders of the little things that made me feel what I felt and the way I treat you and everybody else. The world has changed around me. I did not.

I have been avoiding you, I've been avoiding people that remind me of you. I have been avoiding everything that makes forgetting how I felt for you very difficult. Still the feeling remains. A certain emptiness dwells inside me.

The Ikot is still a part of my life, just as you are. The unending loop of its route mirrors the unending need of people to love and to be loved back. But in my case it was just a one way trip.