Ground Control To Major Tom

I never drink and dial, I just drink and write.

I had a good night, shucking oysters and sipping wine straight after work, followed by Clara's birthday dinner with good food and fine company. There were mostly close friends, so conversations were easy, and jokes were spontaneous and crazy. This is one big gathering that I required no effort at all to have a great time naturally.

It's almost three in the morning now, and I am feeling all warm and fuzzy and tipsy with all the wine in me, and so I will write on.

When I first started this blog, I have no audience in mind other than myself. I let a few friends in at the beginning, but that's that, never any more. I am sorry I have let you in this time. It is indeed too much information, but I seriously didn't expect you to read on, since you never care much for me anyway.

There was no message to be put across, that has long been discarded. I did not write with the intention to evoke any emotions, to draw attention, or to insult even. After all this while, you don't think I have already given up all hopes?

I am not that low or impersonal to use my blog as a medium to communicate with you. I have more respect for my journal than that, and for you and I both too, for that matter. Think what you want. But for this time, I am of course talking to you, just this once.

This is my journal, self-indulging as it may seem. What else am I s'pose to write about other than what's happening to me and of my thoughts? The flowers and the trees and the honeybees?

Letting you on this could be written off as an act of impulse. I figured it makes no difference whether you know one thing or everything, it's not as though I have never opened myself up to you before.

However, nobody likes to be unravelled so totally like that. I am definitely not too big on the idea that you or some of my friends might be reading this, but it is what it is.

I could have moved my blog, but that would be cowardly.

My encounter with you has brought on a rush of emotions and reflections. This include my life here, my work, my family and who I am. Yes you have been my muse, simply because I have been so knocked over by you. Even the best writer needs a muse. If you have taken any offence on your part, then I am indeed sorry.

So why should I stop just because you happened to be reading it? Because you think I should or because you think I could? Neither way. That's absurd. I am amazed that came out from you, I expected something more sensible really. Maybe you are creeped out, annoyed, or simply thinking lesser of me as a person. Whichever the case is, I still will not alter the translation of my thoughts to words here. That will be lying to myself.

These are conversations with myself, you don't have to be part of it. Simply look away.

And if you are thinking I have been writing all those stuff these past weeks just because I want you to see them, think again. This is not a ploy. That will be pathetic.

And if I have accidentally boosted your ego in a sick way by worshipping you so hopelessly, then I am indeed sorry for us both.

What I have written here has always been as honest and verbose as I could possibly handle, as I have myself to answer to ultimately. No one has to read it, I don't care.

I don't have to check through all my past entries to know that I've been consistent in my tone, be it on my life, my friends, my trips or even the hurricane. In any case, the last entry was hardly about anyone but myself.

It is never just about you.

I am not going to deliberately start fabricating happy, cheery stories or report on fluffy stuff such as what I am wearing today or how the new printer at work sucked. That would be total crap, and I am in no eagerness to please any reader here.

Have I single-handedly created a situation of monstrosity and absurdity between us? Maybe. Blame it on me, whatever. It doesn't matter, really. I wish we could take it from here but again, it's not up to me. I have been putting myself in the losing position right from the beginning. I have come to realised that. I am not going to wallow in self-pity that's for sure, and I have discarded all crazy hopes. I will get a grip, I have to. But there will always be moments. And no, you can't tell me to stop on that one either.

If I have it my way, I would want to talk to you in person again, knock back some wine, and talk till we go blue in the face, like before. It could be fun, we could laugh it over or we could end up hating each other more. Either way, it sure beats communicating in this uni-dimensional manner. It's damn sad that we have to resort to this.

So you have read everything, and now you know much more than you ever should. I don't know if we could ever be cool again. I don't mind either way, I let it slide. I've got nothing to lose anymore, since I was in the losing position right from the beginning by being so smitten by you. I conceit defeat.

So yeah, it is your call, dude. Not mine. You have my number too.

Or maybe, just for kicks, I should say I am so tired now, I am loving the feel of my bed, and I am so gonna crash and not wake up till at least noon tomorrow, and then feast on tons of greasy bacon and toast with eggs. Maybe such useless info is easier on the casual reader's eyes, and maybe you might find it amusing too.

After all, conforming is always easier isn't it?