The Stars Are Blind

.

.

"Dear World: I am leaving because I am bored. I am leaving you with your worries in this sweet cesspool."

.
.

-- George Sanders, suicide victim

.

.

.

.

Amidst the stars twinkling on my wallpaper, I've decided to update my blogger profile. Not like it's been a habit of mine to update it every now and then; I guess I feel it's time for another change. The main highlight is that I've been drawn to rediscovering pop culture. I mean, whatever happened to that precocious pre-teen who used to listen to Debbie Gibson or sing "Hold On" by Wilson Philips; the kid who bought his first cassette tape: Francis Magalona's Mga Kababayan (My Fellow Countrymen); who obsessed on making mix tapes from deejay-murdered dance hits on the radio, staying up all night during the weekends hoping to record a complete static-free radio quality copy of Kalapana's The Hurt, Tropical Dance Mix version or Funkstar de Luxe's How Gee Triple Extended Mix.

.

.

Yes, those were the days of humiliation. The early 90's. I was never fully conscious of anything in the 80's so I can't really say I felt mortified having been born then. Besides, the 80's was a blur, from playing G.I. Joe and Barbie dolls, to riding the bike, to almost completing the first-ever version of Super Mario Brothers, to watching Small Wonder in the afternoon. It all went by so fast. And like the stupid haircuts then, never left anything for me to miss. I never considered my early predilection for New Wave hits an embarrassment. Tears for Fears used to "rock my world" and it still does. But the 90's?? Geez ... Trapper Keepers, Reebok Pumps, Windbreakers, Bulldog shoes, war games, marvel cards, Versace's rock n' roll fashion, Beverly Hills 90210 ... *cringes*

.

.

All those memories would not serve me well anymore, except perhaps for purposes of humor on days when I feel like I'm older than everyone else in the office. Harhar. I've come to a healthy and informed decision to get back in touch with the world -- listening to pop music, watching local movies, reading the dailies and magazines off the counter, conversing with people ... Cliché but applicable to me right now, I'm 27 going 13. My sister and I practically have the same interests now. Toys. ; )

.

.

(Okay, enough of this foolishness)

.

.

I open the radio and realize Paris Hilton can't sing a damn note. Indeed, the stars are blind, but I figure it can't get any worse; and maybe what George Sanders failed to see is that the world seems boring only because we close our eyes to the things we think aren't interesting.

.

.

.