Good Intentions

I guess it's an old idea that in the end (or at the core?) of all acquaintances and relationships, what we really want and need to know of another is what they think of us. With the knowledge of how the other perceives you, suddenly s/he becomes complete, or suddenly uninteresting.

I never1 reject a Friendster testimonial, for I would like to believe those things are written with urgency, thus sincerity.2

And you are, of course, excited about what people would like to say about you, excited even at the craft of it--how they say it (your friends, after all, are reflective of you.) And you, of course, can't help but wait for that adjective you want to hear.3

And, of course, the time when I overanalyze. I get a bit crazy when people throw away a description like "she's a good writer," when they haven't read anything I've written, nor are they interested in writing at all. I get crazier when they write their testimonials as if they're texting you. But I will never reject, because again, the theory that it's done in the highest sense of spontaneity.4 Plus, I am of the mythological conditioning that I get along well with all kinds of people: elitists and others; text-conscious and not; homophobic and alcoholic; Ann, Anne, Ana and Anna.

This source of blind trust is what intrigues and bothers me, because I cannot figure anything but ignorance. Not that I'm being hard on my self and them, but pleasure and pain are accurate when their source is real. And real things are hard to come by.--Or that it must agree to what I opine?5

I wonder what those friendsters of mine think of me now. Now, at this very moment, that I look at some special ones: each of them surfacing constantly from memory, since their pictures have never been complete in my mind.


1) Well, not entirely true, since I do not approve those graphic stuff that you don't really think of.
2) There are two instances, though, when my friends blatantly told me they're writing me a testimonial, so I should write them one too! Eww.
3) For the longest time, I've been waiting for someone to say I'm sexy; I can't understand why no one has written that yet. Leche.
4) And hey, it's just Friendster. And hey, who among us is perfect anyway?
5) To make it easier, what I only mean by "real" is "intelligent." What I always mean by real is intelligent.

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