this is not a test

this is not a test

i wanted to blog. i wanted to blog so badly that i dream of wanting to blog. but after that seemingly long hiatus, i dont know where to start lashing out my thoughts. they all seem to be tangled in my cortex (i am currently re-reviewing for a final exam), and i need major detangling soon. i dont need an emergency lobotomy, silly (maybe you do)! but i do need quiet time which is hard to get by these days. i don't know...the world is full of senseless buzzing.

i hate routine. at home lying around, doing nothing all day is not routine. work is routine. school is routine. the bus i take to school everyday is routine. fastfood is routine. basically, everything i associate with school is routine. yes, even rob is routine. >gasp!<

i'm not complaining... or maybe i am. im not even sure if i am already. its a whole big grey area now. routine makes you dull. i hate it. i'm not sure if the grayness or the predictability is wearing me down.

habit is a recurrent, often unconscious pattern of behavior that is acquired through frequent repetition. as opposed to routine which is basically the same but more mechanical. to put it simply, i hate it. tradition is one thing, but routine is entirely different.

but is it possible to do away with routine? not exactly. imagine doing everything for the first time... everytime. that's pretty much what it's like without it and its tiring. but as much as we sort of "need" some degree of routine, we also have to have an "anti-routine" element, which is sometimes impossible to maintain if the system runs on a circuit of overlapping routines. we have no choice but to, dare i say it, go with the flow.

spice up with variety as tolerated. do not overdo it. a dash would be enough to try to do things differently everytime. and i don't mean a hundred-and-eighty degree change. just please for the love of all things, avoid being mechanical.

and i would like to end with a bridge that's stuck in my head:

Hands down this is the best day I can ever remember,

I'll always remember the sound of the stereo,

the dim of the soft lights,

the scent of your hair that you twirled in your fingers

and the time on the clock when we realized it's so late

and this walk that we shared together.

The streets were wet and the gate was locked

so I jumped it, and I let you in.

And you stood at your door

with your hands on my waist

and you kissed me like you meant it.

And I knew that you meant it,

that you meant it,

that you meant it,

and I knew, that you meant it, that we meant it.