Tag Archives: ramblings

That sounds insanely stupid. Of course I’m in. (LVBMM Chronicles)

I love my best friends.

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shudder.

Oh god, I am so sorry, I’m not good at this sentimental thing.

Anyway, why am I writing this? Just to be clear, I’m not trying to suck up to you guys (by guys, I mean those two, if they happen to read this) ’cause I did something horrible that you have yet to find out or anything with ulterior motives in mind. You know me, completely affectionate and innocent creature that I am.

I’m doing this prompt where I talk about something ‘traditional’ or ‘ritualistic’, and I thought, hey, why not get my best friends involved because what kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t write a blog post and advertise their faces on a public website without their consent? (A kind one, that’s what. This is why we are friends if anyone is wondering.)

Look, we’re already pretty much a cult with what we do so I guess that counts as ritualistic, right?

I say yes, we qualify indeed.

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Now, to describe our constant LVB Movie Marathons… where do I start?

LVB y’see is short of ‘LaVelBia’, which is short for ‘Lance, Vel, Bianca’ which is short for ‘yes, we so totally named our group like a bunch of animu high school cliche misfits on a manga fight us about it’.

We have movie marathons. It’s a sporadic event that we do when we have time, considering the fact that we are now in different colleges and for some weird cosmic reason we just couldn’t stand not seeing each other’s faces for long.

On a specific night- or morning, or afternoon (whichever time we’re all comfortable with) (okay, to be completely honest when we’ve finally gotten off our lazy bums and decided to function like human beings) we plan a movie marathon at Lancelot’s house. Dude’s got a huge TV, a nice source of food, and a convenient area we can crash on when we feel the pull of slumber. On some nights we get hungry or bored, we trek outside and go over this Ministop branch five or ten minutes away on foot. We buy nice stuff to snack on and talk about anything and everything along the way.

This tradition of ours- if something so impulsive can be called tradition- was actually first recognized as a ‘sleepover’. We’ve ceased to refer to it as such when we realized that, “guys, um, I don’t think we’ve been doing the sleeping part at all.”

Anyway, one blog post can’t really encompass all that happens during those nights. Or those days. Or mornings. (Ugh, christ, I need to stop getting technical.) This would be littered with annoying side notes and confusing parentheses if I had to explain every single detail.

But I had to write it. Something that means so much to me has to be written down in my confusing, drunken narrative.

It’s tradition because those haphazard movie marathons have somehow turned into a piece of something perfect, something familiar and nostalgic from way back, taken and preserved in a jar. Something that I can plunge into when reality seems too much. Something permanent that I’d like to stay that way. Life would totally suck without these dudes. *gags* I mean, awww. ❤

Okay. So what I’m actually trying to say here, I think, is this:

I love those four to five AMs spent with my best friends. I love the domestic ease when we cook our instant meals in the kitchen in the dead of the night. I love the subtle hum of a long-forgotten movie on the screen as we eat and comfortably mumble or excitedly gush out anything that comes to mind. I love how we crack up every single minute, how everything seems hilarious, whatever the hell we might say in our feverish midnight haze of adrenaline. I love how we pierce the silence with manic laughter at the simplest issues that we’ve twisted into the most bizarre scenarios. I love how we can be weird and comfortable and fucked-up and simply not care when we’re with each other. I love experiencing the proverbial comfortable silences instead of the common awkward ones I feel with other people.

I love the fact that no matter how far, how busy, how vastly different we are, we always seem to find our way towards each other.

We’re also planning a little bit of world domination on the side so we are kinda working on that.

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Skinship

temprate

It makes me uncomfortable.

There. There, I fucking said it.

 

I was raised in a family where hugs only happen once or twice a year when I was five then pretty much none when I passed twelve. (Now before you assume I had a shitty childhood, it was awesome actually. I didn’t like touching, even back then.)

I’ve had few very close friends in my short seventeen years of life, none of whom are inclined to hair-fondling, shoulder-to-head-leaning, hand-holding, body-hugging, cheek-kissing, and other forms of casual physical contact.

Is this me over thinking things again? Yes, yes it is. I tend to do that a lot. It’s a sick habit that I sometimes love and sometimes want to stab the shit out of. Because really, who puts too much thought into the simple act of linking fingers between same-sex platonic friends, enough to write a blog post about it? Who the fuck even freezes at the slightest arm-over-your-shoulders-in-a-loose-friendly-way action?

Me, that’s who.

I know that shit about accepting oneself and all, plus the mantra that it’s okay to be different, but dear gods I just can’t get over the fact that some people can do this without giving it a second thought while a million pointless buzzfeeds run through my mind.

So now I’m trying to figure out why. I need to give myself a leeway and purge this out of my head.

Plausible Reasons Why I am Uncomfortable With Casual Skinship

 1. I over think things.

Like I said, I pay too much attention to irrelevant details. It’s another one of those instances where I know I’m not supposed to analyze too much but I still end up doing so, which in turn gives way to more resentful thinking. I don’t want to offend anyone, I don’t want anyone to think I’m weird either.

2. I have never been in any honest to goodness romantic relationship.

Maybe people get used to this kind of thing after frolicking in the romance department with someone. I don’t know. Is it supposed to help? Will the consciousness for physical interaction lessen when you do it frequently?

I have no answers.

3. I’m a maniac.

I’m well known in high school for my less-than-innocent musings (read: I am well known for being a pervert, *in spirit*). Though it’s a source of a lot of laughs for everyone (myself included) when I twist things into a comical-sexual context, being an auto-perv-filter has its disadvantages. Not only do I over think things, I see them in a perverse light too.

I’m like, ‘Shit I know I’m not supposed to be thinking this but I am oh god no brain don’t go there BAD BRAIN, BAD! Go back to your corner.’ (This is what’s going on inside while I am freezing rigid and expressionless.)

Like, I don’t even like him/her that way or ever seen him/her that way but SURPRISE INNER BRAIN THEATER FLASH!

It sucks.

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Now I’ve gotten that out of the way, I hope I can move on from this topic and not fucking trip or break out into a messy sweat whenever I experience such. I might add a few others when they crop up again.

Let me clear this up: I appreciate the act itself. I appreciate the idea that you’re comfortable enough to do this with me. I appreciate that, without even thinking about it that much, you reflexively reach out for my hand or sling your arm around mine.  I just don’t know what to think or how to stop thinking about it too much.  Yeah well, now I type this out to think why I think about it an awful lot. [THINKCEPTION] (I am very confused right now.)

Hopefully no one is offended. Or creeped out.

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Of Optimists And Pessimists

I’ve been seeing a lot of motivational posts on optimism.

Y’know, those hipster images that encourage us to discard negative thoughts and live for the joy of god and such.

The thing is, I don’t think being pessimistic is all that bad.

Optimists often go on with daily tasks thinking that at the end of the day, their efforts will bear fruit. They’ll get the juicy product of their labors and all their sacrifices will be worth it.

Pessimists on the other hand immediately assume the worst. Mom is fifteen minutes late? Probably a car crash. I am now an orphan. Group project for class? Most likely, I’ll mess everything up for everyone and not meet the deadline. I’ll fail this class.

If you put it into perspective, optimists are able to go on because they see something worth striving for. They hold on to this little ray of hope to continue. ‘Think positive’ is the mantra, no matter how shitty your day is turning out to be. At the end of it all, you’re learning/achieving/making something

Then what motivates the pessimist? They’re scared. They don’t want to expect anything in fear of being disappointed. Whatever they’d find in this figurative end of the tunnel is something frightening and unpredictable.

But they go on. They do it without even expecting much.

To some it might be a sad way of life, heaping this much unnecessary sorrow on things that have yet to happen. I beg to differ. Because when you set your standards low, so long as you still try (albeit resignedly), the unexpected triumph seems a thousand times sweeter. It’s like finally feeling a freezing drink slide down your throat in the middle of a scorching summer.

I’m not saying it’s better to be a pessimist. Neither am I implying optimists suck because they need to have some bone dangling in front of them  to function. A little too much of everything is lethal. Be an optimist when you want to be. Be a pessimist if you feel the need to be.  All I’m saying is that either mindsets have their purposes and whatever suits you best should be what you choose. Whatever makes you feels safe. Whatever makes you happy.

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