Disjointed

I'm not usually at a loss for words but I'll try to come up with a mouthful today. I wasn't able to get that much sleep and the bags under my eyes are proof of that. But since I'm not really going anywhere I'd better unpack these bags. (Please tell me you got that. Please?)
***

How I really wish that people's optimism would rub off on me. I guess, I've always been like this: a perfectionist. Just one minor glitch in my plan drives me nuts. When I fail and fall down, I have a hard time getting up. Sometimes I stay down and hide under a shell and write like an Eskimo stuck in his igloo and never wanting to come out even if there's no blizzard in sight. It takes someone dear to me to help me get up and to coax me back in the real world and out of my comfort zones.

***

I should've written sooner but the timing didn't seem to be right. I've finally found a new way to unleash the creative juices hiding inside my dormant brain which I thought was slowly degenerating. The language that I use now is subdued...very unlike the arnivorous arnimal of the past. However, I revert into the naughty me when I post in the vernacular. Two of my virtual mentors, the honorable masters and geniuses of puns and double-entendre, welcomed me with cyber open arms and taught me the basics until I could get the hang of it and come up with my originals.

***

When I was a temporary bum, I amused myself by exchanging wacky and weird e-mail messages with foreign germs and fellow Filipinos who can ride my wavelength. Some are not good riders though so they fall off somewhere or get hit by the white squall by surfing on the wrong side.

Uh-oh. Am I mixing my metaphors here? Uh, I don't think I have anything to worry about. No sight of English teachers to criticize a misspelled word, a wrong syntax or an incoherent gibberish. Should that be jibberish? To be an instant thesaurus...that's my wish.

****

A friend sent me her latest poem for perusal and critiquing. What are the points? Good point: catchy title which is Barilan. Next point: that's the only thing that's good with it. Some other points: absence of imagery, dearth of double-entendre, banal style bordering on yawning.

Golly bee, I wouldn't want myself to criticize my work ever. I'm gonna bury myself six feet below the ground and not even Lestat can pry open my coffin and coax me out of my autistic world.

Ahihihi.