undefined...inane...bland

I don't know why I am feeling a bit down today. No, I take that back. I am not sad, like teary-eyed-sad. It's more of having my senti mode turned on, I guess.

Trigger songs would make my eyes mushy. Familiar scents take me back to some forgotten past. A phrase spoken by a stranger becomes full of sense and meaning. I stare at my mug for a full 10 minutes thinking about life. I strike a conservation hoping to talk some sense out of the usual blahs and blehs and haha's at the workplace. I keep wondering if I am happy or not. What the *bleep* is happening here?!

This girl is clueless.

I feel shallow and pointless. It's like I've lost passion in doing the things that have meant a lot to me in the past. I rarely play my guitar now. There goes song composition too. Except for these sporadical logs, I almost never write anymore. No more plays. No backstage stories to share. No applause to hear. No lines to deliver. No more backpacking in some unheard of, hidden towns out of the city anymore. No more experimental videos that I take with my friends. No late walks. No late stories.

No life?

I used to be a party manager cum gimik commander cum crux of events. I yearned, lived and breathed action. I never stayed in one place. I craved, desired, hungered and ached for life and being alive.

Am I dead?

My world now revolves around earning money, sleeping and eating. I never knew life so inane and undefined. Can I be any more bland than this?

My gawd, I'm whining...shit.