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    Friday, August 11, 2006

    I’ve been putting myself in this weird mental state these past weeks.

    It started when I watched Kill Bill. It’s the scene where Uma Thurman’s character wakes up and finds herself buried alive. But God blessed that woman and gave her the strength to bust herself out of that grave situation with her bare hands.

    Then came that CSI finale directed by Quentin Tarantino. One of the CSI guys got kidnapped and he finds himself buried alive. There is a tape recorder and a gun with a single bullet. And a light that comes on randomly, as far as he is concerned.

    Now, if I were him, I’d be wondering if I’d ever be saved. Or I should just put a bullet in my head. But what if I start to panic? Or I feel the need to stretch? Or if I can’t deal with the darkness? Or what if I do decide to put a bullet in my head but I miss and shoot off my ears instead?

    I am freaking out just from writing this.

    I am thinking that the only way to get rid of this is to face it and deal with it. So last night, I dragged myself under the coffee table in my living room. The space between the floor and the bottom of the coffee table is a comfortable coffin-height of about 15 inches.

    Five seconds was all it took. Five seconds and I was outta there.

    The first disturbing thing was staring at the bottom of the coffee table at such a close distance. I could not focus and I lost all depth perception. That made me panic.

    Now I can’t stop thinking about this. I need to find a way out should I wake up one day and find myself buried alive.

    But I think all this at least proves one thing. That I may not have mental discipline to remain calm. But even if I remained calm, my physical state will stress me out. OK. This really proves another thing. That I have issues and I should consider professional help.

    Monday, August 07, 2006

    I finally caved in and updated my MySpace account. Actually, I signed up a few years ago and didn't bother with it since I had the "that's-so-2004" Friendster account.

    Under peer-tech-pressure, I had to do it. My social standing was being affected. I became even more uncool than I already was, for not having an active MySpace page with 583 friends, 28 vanity photos of myself trying to look cool, an obnoxious wallpaper image that makes my profile page impossible to read, and to top it off, takes five hours to load.

    Ahhhh...to be 20 again!

    Having said that...go nuts.