An odd, mixed ramble of an anecdote.

It is an odd thing… to remember stuff you never planned on remembering and forgetting stuff you need to remember.  This romance with the sub-conscious that makes you remember and relate the seemingly unrelated to each other.   How a simple phrase; at that opportune time, latches on to your thoughts and never lets go.  It develops itself like the big bang theory and its only realization is when you actually get down on a keyboard and unravel it.
I guess writers experience this.  Is it the muse?  Most times I find myself staggering for an idea.  Like all things forced, well… it won’t come naturally.  It becomes the uninspired muse in Dogma. Certain aspects like, once you start getting paid for the stuff you like doing, you end up finding yourself on that ever present fork in the road.  Ah… to find your niche in the world. 
 ‘The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.’
— Pablo Picasso

The irony of things at times.  There are so many things in this world that have a certain sense of duplicity or duality.  We spend so much time contemplating on the in-between(s) or the gray areas of these aspects that we tend to forget that one thing that matters.  It dilutes the purpose at times although yeah, it may strengthen it as well should we overcome these ‘distractions’.

I am pretty much blabbering at this point.  This sudden urge to write was spawned by a small conversation with a good old friend of mine.  We were talking about online work and the one I referred her to sounded pretty interesting to her as well.  We were laboratory mates at one point.  Not the chemistry lab or anything but we used to be part of a literature community called “Laboratoryo”.  It was spearheaded by the shaman/ermitanyo, our leader who pulled us away from another forum when it crashed on itself at the time.

It pretty much lasted about a year before internal conflicts drove people away.  I learned a lot from that group.  The critiques I received forced me to proofread my work.  It polished my tagalog skills in ways I had never imagined possible.  (I used to almost flunk that subject, considering I was a filipino myself.) I still admire them, really.  Alambre. Moonchild. Shin. Luna. Charlie Brown.  Even their altnicks (which pretty much caused the internal hullabaloo) which seemed to deviate from their usual writing styles.  I will remember them forever.  Once I find their blogs (or them for the matter) I will follow them too.

Anyways, I am regressing.  Me and that old friend of mine talked about this writing post and then the topic of Laboratoryo came along.  I told her: “do you still write? I miss your work.  Para kang snow leopard noon eh.” (You were like the snow leopard before).  She laughed at the thought of the allusion being a seemingly random jungle animal.  I told her it was a reference to Walter Mitty and that snow leopard conversation.

Sean O’Connell: They call the snow leopard the ghost cat. Never lets itself be seen. Walter Mitty: Ghost cat.
Sean O’Connell: Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.
How the mind works eludes me.  Most times anyways.  I guess the trick is to stay amused and let these little unexplainable (yet rational) things surprise you. 

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