Oh, darn.

My last blog post is much later in date. I apologize to myself because of that. Somehow this blog serves as my though catalog: a way to assert my unassertive self. Being the silent person that I am, blogs should be valued.

Moving on.

Events fare according to many circumstances--we do not intend these to be factors of a bigger picture. This is pain. My carelessness is circumstantial. My fluctuating moods are circumstantial. My impulsiveness is circumstantial. My sleepiness is circumstantial. Everything that has been the cause my misfortune is circumstantial. You may then say that "what the fuck is this girl ranting about now? She is just letting herself run away from her own faults!" That may be so. And I frown upon myself for even thinking that every sad moment I've experienced recently is because of circumstance.

But let me analyze for a moment. What the hell is up with my sense of feeling and my blaming circumstance?

Failure pains me. In the past it has not. It used to serve as a part of life. When I feel like I've failed a standard I've set up for myself, I wallow in a bottomless pit. Since childhood, I have worked against humiliation (for whatever reason I had back then) and if I do become humiliated, I fail into some emotional dump. Fuck emotions! Why did humans have to be built with such a distracting thing anyway? Instead of being sad, we could just move on and do the job we have to do for society--because we are a part of it and we benefit/detriment from it. But noooo, we have to be all human and cry for a period of time and wallow for an even longer period.

Then there's that sense of circumstance. If I blame my misfortunes on circumstances, that would benefit my ego greatly. Nothing is of my fault. I could not have done anything to prevent it. But you are not convinced of this as much as I am. Why? Because, humans have been the "master(s) of their fate(s)" since time be. That is complete bull! We are the masters of our fate/s? Everything that we are is an effect of the external to ourselves. Nothing is up to us.

Shall I go by my old philosophy? Whatever happens, happens?

Or should I create another one?

I am tired of this feeling. This feeling of failure because of a sense I probably cannot control. Actually, I am not convinced of that, either, dear reader. And as my years progress, I will be even more convinced that some things could change because of me.

Now, it is time to act. But allow me to watch True Blood first.