Anyway, Friday

Life's a bitch.  A nice one, I hope.  You see the bag of your dreams and realize you're short 50 Pesos, 'cause you've spent the rest of your money commuting and eating and walking around wanting to buy stuff, but failing.  Life's a bitch.  But then you get to come back for it hours later.  Life's a tease, too.  If I were Virginia Woolf I'd write something about how feminine life really is, and how men ignore that.  But I'm not.
  My problem now is that the online quiz in Philosophy shut down on me yesterday, so thanks to the automated-ness of today's marvelous material world, I got a zero before I could say "Karmic Justice."  I hope I'll get to take it soon, and that it won't stain my grades for good.  Oh, the convenience of online quizzes.  Life is a bitch, but really, I'm glad this is my biggest problem.  Right now, in the finite space of here and now and school and the mundane.  There are problems you can talk your way out of--a vast majority--and I don't want to find myself with the other kind of problem.  Words are almost everything, but not as much as will.
  Whiling away a three-hour break is also one of my smaller problems.  I am doing it right now without the least boredom and apathy.  Which is good.  The midmorning sun's shining on the SDA, but the sky's far from blue.  Either it's just cloudy, or the Metro Manila smog is at it again.  Both, I suppose.
  When I get tired of writing about nothing, I'll pick up my bag and go to the other side of the library, and sit down to Sandman again.  Neil Gaiman's stuff always feels like dreams, like plunging my hand into something and feeling an unexpected slosh of velvet and cream and tiny legs and darkness.  Good thing I'm reading Terry Pratchett at home; a bit more cheerful.  I haven't read any new books for quite some time now.  Since Christmas.  So I'm re-reading: A Separate Peace, American Gods, Guards! Guards!, Smoke and Mirrors, Good Omens, The Joy Luck Club....  The good thing about re-reading is that sometimes I see something I've never seen before.
  Funny, I can't bring myself to pick up Genji again, though.  It's not the kind of book I can read with my milk tea, eyes half closed and brain half dreaming.  If I were in Meiji-era Japan, maybe I could do that, read Genji as easily as anything, while a young maidservant fans me and brings me tea and combs my hair and gossips.
  If I actually had a topic, I'd say this is a digression.  But I have no topic.  I cannot digress.
  But since I have no topic, I keep running out of steam.  It's Friday, the sun's shining, and there's... well, a cloud over the whole sky.  Anyway, if the sky were perfectly blue and cloudless, I wouldn't know what to do about it, either.  Still, it'd be better that way.
  So there; I guess it's time for me to go read Sandman again.  And again, and again.  Such a comfort to escape to a world that makes no sense, from a world that pretends to.  Now, that's not emo shit, because hey, I enjoy it, and if life--real life--is a bitch, well then I am too.

SHOOTER - Life's a Bitch 

Everybody's tellin' all
Baring their souls
Just go on the Ricky Lake Show

Why?

Last night I turned the T.V. on
You were booed off stage
Singing your famous love song

Why?

[CHORUS:]
Should'a been born on the Milky Way
Don't wanna belong to the world today
Oh, life's a bitch and then you die
Should'a been born on the Milky Way
I can't believe what I heard today
Oh yeah, life's a bitch and then you die

Meanwhile, I got the magazines
Telling me, selling me lies
On how I could be the perfect 10

Why?

And my boyfriend left
Just the other day
He's all messed up
Is he straight or is he gay

Why?

Now tell me, who makes the rules?

[CHORUS]

And if I fall

[CHORUS]