Blah Central

[name removed upon request] (5/4/2007 9:11:38 PM): I just read your story about being locked out and all the ruckus you made. I, too, have a temper which I'm slowly learning to manage. But before I learned to curb it, I would throw things around the house. I once threw a cheap water goblet at our fence hoping that that would appease me and send a signal to everybody that I was in a foul mood. Being the 'un-athlete' that I am, the glass went over the fence and onto the road out front. I was so lucky it didn't hit anything. Now doesn't that make you feel just a little less stupid and a bit better about yourself? :)

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Recent fits of edginess can be mindlessly blamed on things that didn’t slide into projected proper places but little did I realize until I read that offline message that my impulses are going haywire. Routinely I’m a mild-mannered person. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. Or potential dates. My vicious Stalinistic streaks are usually under control and rarely do I summon an inner asshole to surface unless things go out of hand or the situation calls for it.

Yet these past few days I’m as restless as a gerbil on hormone overload. The thing is my horemones are just fine, and sex isn't slacking either. My attention span nosedives in a split-second. I’m always sensing of something pleasant to transpire but not quite yet. Ideas ricochet in my head like manic Frisbees zipping in every direction. Yet none of them can peg me in one concrete space of interest. My emotional quotient is borderline drawn-out monotony and everywhere I look I see beige.

Beige is twice boring than brown, blander than grey. It’s a tenacious state of mind, like tedious fungal growth that refuses to go. Not unlike Tessie Aquino Oreta.

Eventually I’ll snap out of it. Meanwhile I wander aimlessly looking like a vapid thrall. Or an android clone of Paris Hilton on Valium overdose.