Psycho Bitch.

Published
by
Robmarie
on May 12, 2008
in Ex-Love, Life, Love, Personal and Shit I hate
. 11 Comments

There was a fairly long entry here before this one, but the more I typed, the more I realized that I was rationalizing what I felt and not really getting at anything.

The truth is, last night I found out that I was cheated on.

Used.

Lied to.

Betrayed.

All in the worst possible way, too. [hint: FUCKIN’ FACEBOOK]

I won’t get into any particulars, but I will tell you this: a) I still haven’t fully processed yet, b) I haven’t slept a wink since yesterday, and c) I went psycho bitch on his ass.

I guess between the unreturned phone calls, not knowing anything about him since the last time that I saw him [two weeks ago], and the PICTURES which confirmed my fears, I just snapped.

The whole thing seems fairly recent, though — judging from the day the album was created, and the dates [and content] of his only two Wall Posts [oh yeah, did I mention I went PSYCHO BITCH on his ass? Stalking is mandatory].

I sent him a message — and it wasn’t an “OMG!!! I HOPE u DIE IN A FIREZ!!!!111111111111″ kind of message. It was a vicious, sub-consciously scripted message where I just spit out the nastiest, cruelest, coldest remarks I could muster. And I remember feeling my hands shake as I typed, but everything just flowed. I guess deep down, I always knew that this day would arrive, as sad as it sounds. Maybe one day 10 years from now I’ll look back on that moment and shudder as I remind myself what an ignorant move that was. But hey, if not now, when? As the wise proverb says: “We’re only young once, so let’s fuck up right”. [Hey! who says there’s no wisdom in Facebook Bumper Stickers?]

I feel like shit, though — and I am fully aware that this is only the beginning. I can’t focus on anything, thanks to these ridiculous, intrusive thoughts. I feel a constant pressure on my chest. I can’t eat. I’m nauseated.

And still — as stupid, backwards, and twisted as it sounds — my biggest fear is that he won’t give me an answer, that he won’t even try, that he doesn’t care. That I’ll never hear from him again — even though I am the one who deleted him from everywhere and told him that he will never hear from me again.

My horoscope for the day read something like this: Your day will be filled with emotion and love. It omitted the words PSYCHOTIC before emotion and HEARTBREAKING before love. Not that I care about what horoscopes say — they’re just generalized assumptions bordering on self-fulfilling prophecies anyway — but still.

No one’s ever actually cheated on me. My formal ex-boyfriend turned out to be a married man without my knowing, but technically he wasn’t cheating on me — he was cheating on his wife. Plus, I wasn’t really in love with him or invested physically/emotionally on him, so I was shocked by circumstance more than by him, per se.

This right now, though? A sinking feeling… PAIN. That big, bad, wolf I have struggled against for so long has finally caught up with me.

I guess someone’s gonna have a little fun for a while.

Open Mic: Revisited

Published
by
Robmarie
on May 6, 2008
in Writing
. 10 Comments

I’ve been spending a lot of time as of late trying to get back into the swing of things concerning poetry. I mentioned before that I felt as if I had outgrown poetry; but two Open Mics later, I realize that I haven’t tired of poetry — I’ve tired of my style.

Re-reading my old poetry has given me the chance to re-evaluate my style. I’ve been scouring for old poems because I haven’t had the motivation to sit down and write something fresh. Well, for the longest time I’ve been proud of what I’ve written; but now I look back on it, and it all seems so… bland. Pretty and elaborate words strung one after the other, devoid of any real passion. You can’t really connect with what I’m saying, because my desire to prove that I know big words overshadowed the raw emotion which I wanted to get across.

Here’s the thing with Open Mics: you can’t just read any old poem you have lying around (been there, done that). You have to adjust certain things so that the audience can understand what you’re saying and feel what you’re feeling. In other words, you want to establish a connection.

I’ve read a couple of my poems on-stage, and the ones that get the strongest reaction are usually the ones that follow a certain pattern. In an attempt to better my own Open Mic writing, I’ve compiled my very own List of Things One Should Be Aware of When Writing to Perform:

  1. You are not writing for a book. Before you even begin to write your poem, remember that you are writing for a live audience — people with thoughts, judgments, and feelings. What works on paper will not necessarily work on stage. Passive writing is allowed (though not encouraged) on print; your goal on-stage, however, is to have the audience understand what you are feeling; project the intensity! Which leads me to the next point…
  2. Write in an active voice. Consider the following opener: The knife of your words has stabbed me. Both “knife” and “stabbed” provide strong imagery, but the sentence doesn’t really create an impact. Why? The sentence is passive — predicate first, subject last. You should always aim for an active statement — subject first, predicate second. Try this: I’ve been stabbed by the knife of your words. A stronger impact, don’t you think?
  3. Diction. Be clear in pronunciation; Vary in rhythm and intensity; Use onomatopoeias (sounds like tic-toc and drum rolling, etc.); Repeat a verse after each stanza. Be creative as long as you’re clear and self-assured.
  4. Your poem is really a story. Save abstract poems for a rainy day; poems recited on-stage -even if they are three lines long- are meant to tell a story; an anecdote that each member of the audience will tie in with their own experiences, thus relating with you on a deeper level.

Finally, — and I didn’t include this above because it’s not an absolute must, but provides extra kudos for you — it doesn’t hurt if you memorize your poem.

If you really think about it, these are all things that apply to any form of speaking.

Poets and poems that give me the chills:

You can’t escape socializing!

Published
by
Robmarie
on April 24, 2008
in Internet, Life, Shit I hate and Thoughts
. 20 Comments

A couple of months ago, I had to write an essay for a Social Psychology class explaining whether the Internet brought people closer or pushed them apart. For the most part, I’ve always viewed the Internet as a tool to “escape” from my immediate world. If I want to talk to friends, I’ll call or text them. Better yet, we hang out. When I want to unwind and interact with a different kind of circle, I hang out online.

I believe the Internet has more power to isolate than to bring closer. Can I talk to friends while I’m online? Sure. But basically, I’m not creating new intimacy or adding depth to it — I’m just keeping in touch.

For example: I’m not a fan of messenger, and the extent of my MSN interactions can be reduced to the following:

  1. “Hi and Bye” purposes - “Hi, how are you?” Good, you? “Good, LOL” Ok. Bye!
  2. To send a link, a video, or a document - “ZOMG! You HAVE to check this out!!1!” Will you accept the file george_bush_flashing_man_boobs.jpg?
  3. Friendly reminders - “Remember, we have a date tomorrow!” Oh, we’re still together?

There’s no privacy, either. As if I weren’t bitchy enough offline, my hermit ways increase tenfold when I am online. That little “Online Now!” icon in MySpace? Removed it. “Appear Offline” in MSN? 99 out of 100 times, yes. I don’t have any problems with most social networking tools, as they make lurking accessible.

Except that damn Facebook.

Facebook is ruining the Internet for me with its “you escape society-we bring society to you” revolution. As if it weren’t bad enough that they published every single fucking profile edit/application add/friend request, I log on last night and what do I find? A damn chat box at the bottom right corner of my browser! WTF. Sure, notify to the world when I’m online! LOOK AT ME, TALK TO ME PLZ!!1! Ugh.

Cellphones, Social Networking Sites, Instant Messengers… we are so desperate to be reached; to keep in contact with people at all times. What ever happened to disconnecting yourself from the world? Whatever happened to having “me” time? Everyone needs alone time once in a while to recharge and reconnect with oneself.

This is why everyone feels so fucking lonely: we sign up for everything in hopes of being reached whenever, wherever… but no one cares. “I’m not on your Top Friends”; “He didn’t send me an app”; “She doesn’t send me comments”; “You don’t say hello when I’m online”. MySpace, Facebook, MSN, AIM (complete with sad “Away” messages), Twitter, a third e-mail account (full of FWD’s) — reach me, talk to me! We have a home phone, but that’s not good enough — how about a cellphone to be kept on at all times?

Chats and apps do not create intimacy, dammit! Inviting me to a zillion apps will not bring us closer — if anything, they’ll make me want to block you. It’s as if the tables have turned, and instead of needing to unwind from the “real” world, I need to escape this online social mess!

There is no substitute whatsoever for a kiss, or a hug, or whispering a secret to your best friend, or a better way to find out if your boyfriend is lying to you by listening to the way he enunciates his words. Nothing can substitute a good face-to-face conversation, full of non-verbal cues and subtle messages which clue us in on whatever underlying issue we’re trying to either get at or repress.

Tl;dr: 1) If you want to disconnect from the world, go outside and live in it! 2) That damn Facebook is ruining the Internet!

Open Mic

Published
by
Robmarie
on April 19, 2008
in Outings/Events, Thoughts and Writing
. 11 Comments

Have you ever been to an Open Mic? An Open Mic is a live show where audience members feature their poetry, music, comedy, etc. Well, a couple of friends have been organizing this event for months now. After much work, their dream came true and it will be held today at a place near my former college campus.

Hopefully, I’ll be in attendance — but all of this anticipation has once again raised the age-old question: do I love writing as much as I used to?

I should be more excited. I’ve had months to churn out poems left and right. However, with exception of a poem I wrote for my cousin last week, I have neither the desire or the concentration to sit down and organize my thoughts into one coherent stanza.

I feel like I’ve outgrown poems. Maybe it’s because I’ve become more vocal about my thoughts and more open about my feelings with others, so I don’t need a poetic outlet anymore. I’ve found that I’ve grown fonder of prose, especially narratives. For me, short stories allow more freedom and are less pretentious. (Kidding about the pretentious, of course :P)

Plus, it seems like the only way I can write a poem now is in Spanish.

I love writing Spanish poetry; I find it to be much more intense and resourceful than its English counterpart — but maybe that’s because Spanish is my mother tongue. I read once that you automatically revert to your native language when discussing something of deep meaning for you.

I could bring one of my Spanish poems, but most of the audience speaks English, so I don’t wanna do that.

In any case, I thought I could alter a snippet I wrote a couple of months ago and had laying around somewhere. It’s called “Best Wishes”:

“Best wishes!” everyone told her, who in return smiled virtuously. I observed how the white, pompous dress clung to her delicate form like a rabid dog in heat. Her big, brown, dove-like eyes sparkled like the left-over champagne staling in my cup. She glanced at me as she grew nearer and nearer. “I’m so nervous,” she muttered with girlish anticipation. I looked over at the towering cake which sat next to me; conquered by two figurines which stood proud at dead center. “I’m so nervous,” is what you told me last night as I traced your boldest outline with red lipstick; my makeup smearing across your skin for the last time as I smudged my way towards ecstasy. But my carnal memory vanished as I looked into her eyes, and saw that she trembled like a doe at rifle-point. I smiled sheepishly and took a sip of my champagne. “You’ll do just fine.”

I wish I had something fresh to recite at the Mic, though. Oh well — I still have a couple of hours, maybe I’ll write something on a cheap, brown paper bag and recite it on the spot.

What about you? Do you enjoy writing? If so — poems, short stories, or novels? Elaborate! :D

I hate this shit!

Published
by
Robmarie
on April 16, 2008
in Internet, Miscellaneous, Shit I hate and Thoughts
. 7 Comments

Thanks for everyone who commented on the last post! Unfortunately, thanks to this new WordPress Dashboard which I have yet to get used to, I deleted a whole bunch of them, heh. *bangs head against wall* I have officially become software-senile, I know.

Anyway…

(I really need to think of a new way to segue into a different topic. Look up all of my posts… 98% transition in the same way. Transition words to expand my vocabulary are much welcome. :P)

You know what I really hate? Being “Away” or “Busy” on MSN and having people whining about how I’m not replying to their comments. It says it right THERE! B.U.S.Y. Holy Jesus on a tricycle, man — people can be annoying. No one ever bothers talking to me when I’m online, either — but change that status and boy, do the messages pour!

It’s the same with people calling at the wrongest (<– this is an actual word??) worst* moment. I’ll be at the bank line or something and as soon as that teller says “next” and I’m upfront, the phone starts vibrating his ass off.

Does it happen to you? Are you plagued with inopportune messages/calls/whining as well?

Or are you the person who instigates the annoying?

P.S. New style! I’m still fixing some things but for the most part, I’m happy. You like? :D

* - Thanks Amanda! *waves*