making sense

the thing about language is that you add a little element and you change the meaning altogether. for example, insert the letter "s" in the word "making" and we have "masking."

making as in creation, becomes masking as in manipulation.

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wow! one week in manila already. nothing much isn't it? especially if i was born and raised here.

but what is special is, that i haven't had beer at all, stopped smoking last three days, and have only gone out in two of those nights. whatever happened to me? ...i have actually started to feel depressed.

the depression, hanging mostly on one solid trunk: i feel ugly, and i can't drink, i can't smoke and worse, i can't go out! this is kinda new for me who has gimik written all over. i can almost see mehane now. "huuuuhhhh, ikaw nga lang nagturo sa aking uminum ng beer e..."

though, i still won't take up to that honor. it really is hard to keep gimik at bay. the lifestyle has deeply engrained itself in every bone, sewed itself to the very threads of my skin, and attatched to the very molecules of the air that i breathe.

hah! am i making sense?

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or am i just masking sense?

is gimik the thing that i want to be known for? is it really something that i want to live for? of course having mustered those questions, necessitates an equal, however tentative, drawing of the answers. am i ready to face it, would i be ready to face it?