Attention, Attention

Allow me to indulge for a little bit as I rekindle bittersweet memories from my past.

I haven’t done a Bryanboy Life Archives post in a long time so here goes. Enjoy as I give some light to the skeletons in my walk-in wardrobe.

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If you’re a parent, the worst thing that could ever happen to you is to give birth to an attention-seeking, greedy little child with short attention span.

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Ever since I came out from my mom’s orifice, I have always been an attention-seeking whore… a subject of ridicule.

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I went to a hardcore catholic private school and I’m telling you – it ain’t fun.

I’ll give you a kiss on the cheek and an oreo cookie if you can spot me in this picture. Click it for the full-size.

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You see, schools in the Philippines shouldn’t fuckin force Catholicism and religion to kids. I remember having Protestant and Born Again Christian classmates… even they have to study Catholicism – but then again, they’re in a Catholic School. Bleurgh. Enough religious bullshit.

Anyway, I’ve put an enormous amount of effort just to make friends with anyone in my class.

I really have.

However, instead of gaining acceptance from my former classmates, everyone looked down at me as if I’m scum. 

I don’t blame them.

I did all sorts of things to gain attention. I nicked stationery, stickers and pens for fun. I did a little extortion stint asking a couple of bucks from each student who wants to use the bathroom. Heck, I even faked one of my faggot ex-teacher’s signature on my own project because I submitted it late. Little had I known that he doesn’t use a pen with PINK ink.

Trust me, each and every year I was in school I was sent to the "guidance counselor"… and year after year, my parents have gone to the principal’s office to straighten things out.

Over the years, I’ve put both of my parents to an unbelievable amount of shame.

I was even sent to a shrink… at 12… yep. It was THAT tragic.

Alas, I don’t think they had Ritalin back in the dark ages.

These days, I’d do anything just to see my current shrink… if only I had the time. All it takes is for me to complain that I couldn’t sleep at night because of a handbag that I want and the next thing you know, he hands out three sheets of paper that allows me to get me candy from the pharmacist. It’s amazing!

Imitation My Ass

Knock knock cliche. I don’t think imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I think it’s recognition and respect.

You’ve read my mind. Yes, there’s someone out there copying me.

It’s nothing new though. He’s the same person I busted before for copying me and stealing my posts.

Instead of plagiarizing my posts word per word, he’s stolen ideas and certain items except he’s done his own twist on it.

God I despise knock-offs.

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And the damage doesn’t stop there. Here’s one that made me tick off.

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(no, that’s not me btw.)

and then he used my name in vain…

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It’s flattering to an extent because according to him, my blog is one of his favourites. Although I find it interesting on how he didn’t link my blog on his blog when all his other favourites are there – I think he’s scared for his readers to find out he’s copying me.

Here I am, doing my own thing, enjoying myself and having fun at the same time, trying to achieve acceptance from others as I search what my true purpose in life is.

I have always thought of myself as an outcast – I don’t belong anywhere. I have always thought nobody wants me for being me hence I’m on a constant, lifelong search for people who will appreciate me as it is.

Yet as you do your own thing in this planet, you trigger other people to BE you…. to copy you.

Has the world really gone bad? Why oh why oh why oh why?

I guess I shoud be flattered because there are people who want to be me.

But ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Am I selfish for not wanting to see myself in others?

I know most people want to see themselves on other people because they want to be able to relate to one another.

I’m royally pissed. I think I’m breeding negativity here.

I’ll shut the fuck up – I think I’m better off with a gag order.

I’m going to light some L’Artisan candles, relax and indulge on vanilla ice cream.

I need to be surrounded by positive energy… so I’ll be positive.

Baboosh!

P.S. I’m really not a bitch. I promise! It’s just that I am so pissed. Just give me time, please, I need time.

I need time to be able to control what I’m saying so I won’t hurt other people.

I need time to choose whatever comes out of my mouth so it won’t look negatively on me when I say something.

I need time to care the consequences of whatever I say.

I need time to… oh fuck it. I don’t need time to learn how to bullshit.

Fuck bullshit.

Because even a fuckin 5 year old can spot a knock-off.

And no, that ain’t bullshit.

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Baboosh again!

P.P.S.S. Big shout out to all employees of McCann Erickson Philippines, particularly Peter. Byanboy loves y’all. God knows what Peter thought of me. Ignore whatever you’ve heard from him – they’re all false. Hah hah. *kiddin* I love you all.