Kami

That's why you shouldn't.

This is probably redundant. I know I have posted this kind of writing as part of other posts before. But nonetheless, this should be written.

I am truly surrounded by wonderful people. They're lovely. They are so nice and kind and think so nicely of me, I'm scared.

I'm scared of how they are nice. Why they are nice and kind. They speak to me nicely. And listen to me. And talk to me. And smile at me. Sometimes they hug me too. What is it that I do to deserve this fortune? Is it because what I do? What did I do? Would they still be kind if I don't do so anymore? Will I meet people like them in the future? They are so nice and kind and it's like almost too good to be true--it's scary.

I'm scared of everything nice they think of me. As much as I'm flattered, I'm scared. Is it because I'm not my true self when I converse or interact with them, or is it because I just don't really understand myself? Am I really that worthy? Am I really that good? Is it really me that you're seeing? Or is it really me that have always been oblivious of what I am?

(You know, like one time when you think you said "A" and people around you heard that you said "B";  I can never figure out if they misheard or if I really said different things than what I intended.)

How could I not be happy.
How could I not be thankful.

How could I betray all these grace laid upon me.
(And they are just people; to think of tasty stuff I ate, exciting stories I read, magnificent ideas I encountered, fun things I did...)

Being sad or depressed, even for a minute, seems like a really spoiled act now isn't it?

Whining

Hello!

It's been a while since I posted something. 

Just now I realized something that I should've realized way before or maybe did but forgot anyway, I whined a lot. And that's pretty annoying, I mean, who would want to hear anyone whines all the time? Not my sister, or me, or I think anyone in general. I hated it yet now that I think about it, I did it a lot.

I have to stop whining. Maybe I too, should stop telling people little stories that just happened to me recently, or some trivial stuffs that come across my mind, or little part of dreams that I remembered, or things like why I like this over that, or random comments like how I think one's skin is so soft, or one's fingers are beautiful, or one's hand is so flabby or something like that.

Or maybe I just have to stop whining. Or maybe in addition to that some stuff I mentioned.

Anyway.

I think I whined a lot because I was weak. Maybe still am but I'm fixing that so just let me use that past tense 'kay. I was weak so I can't really tell the matter straight to the face of the core, or maybe because the core is myself and I stubbornly won't do anything to change that. Or maybe that's because I was lonely. Maybe that's one way that makes me convinced that there are people that actually care. If they listened then they should have, or so I thought. In reality, it's just a cruel cruel way my mind has to comfort me, because there are those who listened when they really don't care but in a way there are those who do care, but they don't need me to shove every little thing I can talk about to their sore ears. They have problems too, probably important, and I'm here telling them silly things they don't have to know or trivial matters that can be solve in a matter of minutes. But well, the latter is probably also another cruel way my mind has to comfort me. I mean, it's not mere possibility that no one cares.

In the end, whining is just useless. It proves nothing and it annoys people. That's why I'm stopping.

Habits die hard but well to have something good to grow something has to be omitted for its place. (If it makes me uncharacteristically quite later on, then that means all this time what came out of my mouth is mostly trash anyway so it's probably a good thing I'll learn to speak in quality.)

Other stuffs that I realized just now is that how I should handle stuffs that hurt me. I don't get hurt easily (which is a little bad because it makes it hard for me to empathize others who are actually hurt by it) and when the right people pushed the right buttons too, it hurts just for a while (sometimes only in minutes!) and you know what? I can never remember any that actually left scars in my heart.

It sounds so good and ideal and it was for me (or maybe it is) but that's just about it. Because it rarely happens and when it actually happens it happens only for a while, I just have no idea how to deal with it when it happens. Or when it happens to others. I don't know how to console myself except that I know that I won't mind (and I really won't, I told you it lasts only for a while) then how can I console others?

It also makes me realize how I don't really know what I'm doing or what I'm thinking or what I'm feeling when I'm treating anyone. I don't really know how do I put this but... now that I think about it, I really have no idea. I think that I do things like listening to others, commit to what I promised to others, being nice to other people and being pleasant and friendly are things I do sincerely but maybe, maybe, that might not be the case. I probably just don't think about it. You know? Just doing it because well, if not, then what? What else I should do? What I know is that being nice is nice and it makes me feel good and it makes others feel good so why shouldn't I do it? Something like that. (In the back of my mind I still mostly think that having no reason to not do it is already a reason to do an action, it seems.)

Maybe. I just don't know. I don't really question my actions. I'm probably lame, and I'm probably a kid, and it's going to be bad I just know this is going to be bad but isn't it weird that I question what media and society made me do yet I don't really care my personal motives of actions? 

Blatant lies, I probably know my personal motives are if I don't then how do I differ my actions from robotic meme of media/society, silly? But yeah maybe the motive itself is immensely vague or inconsistent or just, well, confusing. Maybe it's something that I don't have the guts to admit, or maybe it's something changing through every little events and lesson I've learned, or maybe it's something that haven't existed in its "complete" form--bunch of ideas and ideals that hasn't really connected because I'm too lazy to think of its connections. 

This, I swear.

I will stop being stupid.
I don't have the right to be mean but I have the right to be mad, and yell, and go away.

I will stop being stupid.
Never I'd compromised with downright disrespect and humiliation.

I will stop being stupid.
I won't let myself justified any bad manner I received which is not direct feedback of bad manner I have displayed.

I will stop being stupid.
It is time I know which is wisdom, kindness, and blatant stupidity.

I swear.
I swear I will.

(this is just a fangirl rant)

Halo! These days, I read books. I haven't read read books--excluding academic stuffs--for I don't know probably a year or so. I read more back in my high school days. Including comic books... and now that I mentioned it, I read a lot more fictions (novels, comics, fanfics) than I do these last 2 years in college. It's a good thing if what I read now revolves around stuffs that sort of matters (like journals, news, politics, critical theory, or something like that) but unfortunately it's not really the case. I just don't read as much, I think. But on the brighter note, compared to back then what I read now varied more that what I read then (but yeah mostly comics). 

Oh yeah sorry I digressed. So yeah I read books. One is because... I sort of curious (it was recommended by a stranger in omegle HAHA--in which turned out not very appealing to me) and the others were a series of books that I've PROMISED to read (I made a pact with a friend--which turned out to be fun and addicting). I still wanted to spend most of my money on comic books, and I still read a lot of webcomics. But I don't read fanfictions as much as I used to. 

"As much as I used to" is how much, exactly? For years, say, 9th grade until I graduated high school, I read fanfictions literally everyday. And it's not like it's one fanfic a night as well, it can be five to ten or more, if it's not chaptered. So like any other fangirls, I have read thousands upon thousands of fanfictions in my teenage life. I rarely read those anymore because a lot of factors, one of them that most of fanfictions are crappy (90% of everything is crud after all) and I don't have time to read crap nowadays. 

But talking about this makes me remember one of the best of fanfics I've read then. I have this fanfic author that I adore. And I can't believe it either, but every single fic that I've read written by her were brilliant. From what I remember, her stories are perfect, the plot is wonderful, very in character and the use of words are beautiful. The most important is that she moves me, and her fics gave me this tingling feelings that makes me happy. 

She was (still is) very special, because she writes fics for one of insignificant fandom out of my fandoms that are usually insignificant in general (I suck at choosing fandoms). So there's not much to choose from and I'm glad that in this insignificant fandom I have one brilliant source of fanfics; her. 

So for years, I look forward to read her fics and for her to update her stories. There's this one particular story that has been running from... I don't know, around 2002-2003 (because in 2003 she updated the ninth chapter). She's busy and she can't update regularly so... yeah. For years, since the time I found her and this particular fic, I've been looking forward to read her new updates. That's probably sometime in 2009. It's a bit tiring to wait for updates, because it updates, like, once a year. Sometimes more than a year. Sometimes I'm terrified if she's dead because I really want to know how the story will end.

But for I don't stop reading new stuffs, this fandom soon be temporary forgotten and I don't visit her site as regularly. Until just now.

Out of nowhere I suddenly remember her, and I check out her site. I suppose that I haven't visited it in like a year or so. 

I'm awed. It's been years since she started writing that fic and until now, it's still alive. What's surprising is that, for those years--even when she only updated once a year like I said--she keeps updating. She keeps writing. She still updates the fic that I've been following--waiting--for more than 3 years. The last time I read it probably 2 years ago, and... it's still alive.

I... don't know what to say.

You see, I've read enough fics that it isn't once or twice I found a really good dead fic; a fic that is discontinued for whatever reason, or a really good fic that's in hiatus for forever; might as well as dead. I usually feel sad and disappointed because, a lot of them actually really, really good. And has a lot of readers and comments so it's a shame to see it ended up dead. 

But this?

Her dedication to keep updating until now (even when I don't know if it'll be finished) moved me. Her commitment to actually finish what she's started is extraordinary. Mind you, this is fanfiction. This is a work of love, she's doing it for free and she has no real responsibility towards anyone to actually finish it. But she did it anyway. Be it a fruit of love, a gratitude for loyal readers, or just a mere self-integrity, it's awesome. She's awesome. 

I love you, Leareth. You're an inspiration. Keep writing.

I don't think this post is coherent, but I don't really care. I just have to write this.