Then and Now

I suck at blogging. Straight out suck. I'm terrible at it because I'm never really sure what to say, I'm extremely bad at keeping up with the posts, and I'm not really interesting enough to garner an audience. Who actually read the things I post and actually give a damn about them? Pft, no one. Since the growing age of technology and computers, I've had many journal accounts and even real journals that never really went anywhere. Surprisingly enough, if the site itself didn't close down, my account would still be there, festering like mold on ages-old food left to sit in the sun because I was too lazy to close the account. Looking back at a few of them, I wonder why I even bothered and realized how much of a kid I was and how much of a kid I still am. Even if no one reads them, I guess they're there more for personal reflection than anything (although that could be my antisocial, hide-in-the-corner-of-your-dark-dark-room side talking). It's talking to yourself without the awkward action of really talking to yourself, especially if no one comments or responds. I'm sure many people have started these, but have never gone anywhere with them. Makes you wonder how many accounts have been made, closed, remade, and left to brew among all of those that have been remotely successful.

If it makes you happy and it harms no one, I guess it's fine to keep going with it even if no one else bothers but yourself.


Ticking Time Bomb

I wish we wouldn't change drastically as people when we age. I don't mean from experiences, but from physical and mental illnesses or limitations that affect the body. It really changes a person and who they are as well as eat at their morale. I don't mind getting older, but I'd like to stop at a point where my personality doesn't harass others and when I can't control myself or my thoughts. I think we are naive when we're younger, attain a certain credential of knowledge and experience, and then become ultimately vulnerable as we age in body, mind and spirit no matter how much we exercise ourselves to be otherwise. Drive and motivation can go two ways when you get to those years: they falter or become strong in the actions we take and in the dreams we want to achieve so late in life. For anyone to live so long, it could be a curse or a miracle depending on the individual.

I'm just glad I get the chance to see how far I can go with this thing called life.


A Rainy Tuesday

It was very interesting going to the Senior Friendship Center and bringing a project that we spent a considerable amount of time on with us. I was actually quite nervous since I haven't interacted with people who are older than seventy since high school (at least to my knowledge). As I waited for the inevitable, I decided to just buck it up and try to converse as much as possible. Well, one thing's for certain. I thought as young kids, we were going to be stubborn, but it turned out everyone around the table held a sense of stubbornness about them. They did, however, like our project, but I have a feeling they didn't quite understand the scrapbook idea and what our ideas meant. I felt that the seniors we were with felt incredibly uncomfortable and somewhat unwilling to converse with us at times even as we tried to engage conversation. Sometimes the conversation would just be between the students and I think at those time, the seniors would feel detached from the situation regardless of what physical limitations they had. In a way, it was a miscommunication between both generations. The more the younger people felt uncomfortable, the more we didn't want to talk and felt a loss at words. Our bodies even turn inward or away from the source of the discomfort. One of the older gentlemen had his arms crossed at all times, unwilling to open up to us much although reasons why may be understandable. The lady who was with us would peruse our projects over and over again, not quite communicating with the students. The other gentlemen was a bit more aware and conversed much more openly although he also had times where he tried to find something to say to us.

After the whole experience, I felt a tinge of bitterness that my efforts as well as my teammates fell on deaf ears and clamped lips. I've never had an experience quite like this, either, with my grandparents or those older than me. In a way, I wish I could've helped them be more comfortable around us and have them open up a little more despite the short time. Maybe we forced ourselves too much on them as well. The age gap was dangerously apparent and often times too much of a focus in everyone's minds.