[|ngenius]

I've heard someone begging for sense in his life. Sense back in his life, which implies that there was sense at some point in the past. Also implies that the sense is something one might find again, as far as there is nothing forbidding its return. So everything is reduced to the quest for that sense, vital yet undefined. This is just crap, I think we forget to involve our feelings in our rational thinking (rather irrational ramblings, as we see). What sense? Love can make sense out of a senseless life in a second, in fractions perhaps, and make it all turn from a scale of grey to colorful landscapes, no matter if there was any other change or not. So, what's the point in seeking for a rational planning of The Great Quest, when the quest unfolds and reveals itself all along the way? Do we have any power over this? Aside from the will of getting to the technicolor scene described above, of course, which is not an official requirement but an obvious insight advisable to bear in mind when living, right? You see, ramblings anyway, presumption of certainty, crap at the end.

Love is the shortest way to be happy, I'm sure about this. It is often compared with a state of drunkness (drunkness? Am I making the word up? Not sure...), with its due hangover after the love has gone, and the heartache replacing the headache as a physic symphtom of anxiety. Therefore, if the state of being drunk frees you from feeling cold (the proverbial state of grace it virtually provides), possibly love frees you from feeling pain (also virtually?). Okay, okay, this makes no much sense, but what the hell, comparisons are harmless up till now (right? no money for comparisons yet, yes?) and I'm way too bored to keep trying to fix this system anyway, so who cares?

However, I'm really eager to have a crush on someone, one of those where things fall into place by themselves and you just have to enjoy. The rollercoaster version of love: you sit, the thing sets up, and you simply feel it. I hate it when you sit and the engine is out of vacancy: your pretended counterpart thinks you're no longer inhabiting the universe, or tries to feed you throwing some peanuts in your direction because believes that you are a monkey. Maybe it is not so close to being drunk, after all, because you don't miss being drunk when sober, if you're not an alcoholic. But in a 99% chance you miss being in love when you're single. Maybe I am a monkey. Surely I am.


|ng. (Really busy in Lugo, as you can see)