(I was typing a very long post yesterday, a yearend article actually. But my internet connection didn’t seem to be friendly to my browser each time I publish it. Oh well, I suppose He didn’t want me to praise YOU, guys. Awe. Happy New Year na lang.)

Writing a diary has never been this progressive… and interactive.

I once had a diary for the year 2000. Not sure if the book that I purchased was really a diary because of its odd per hora text lines. But I was sure I bought an expensive book because each time I turned the pages, I felt the factory air-conditioning sensation with some tangy twists of tree blossoms and dried lemon grass leaves. Plus the gold leaf lining on the page edges.

The diary was hardbound, with this weird shining, shimmering, splendid ribbon marker that was slid permanently on the contacts pages, and lots of sections which, at first, I didn’t understand.

I opted to write short one-liner summaries per hour, usually done during recess or lunch breaks in school. Soon, I got tired with the detailing and went on living with the diary kept inside my cabinet as a luxury.

I tried listing every single detail that happened in my high school life. Everything that happened inside our school was noted because almost a fraction of our teenage lives are spent inside the campus (which I tried to enjoy). Luckily, no one, not even those who meddled inside my closet reading it secretly, understood what I was writing on it.

I once had this enthusiasm to create code alphabets. Codes which are essentially useless for the development of our society and the education sector. I just devised special codes to, of course, make everything in my life as cryptic as possible.

I have created 5 alphabets–the last one (based on Korean and Chinese) happens to be my personal favorite since it is very pictographic and can be properly implemented in almost every language in the world. There’s this one code that I forgot already because of not regularly using it during my elementary and highschool years. Some of them, mostly my creations when I was 10 years old, are so complex, I can’t imagine where in the world I got the nerve to build such codes for the benefit of myself.

Would you believe that this scribble means ‘magic’?
It’s ’salamangka’ in transliteration.

With rules such as syllabic markings, same-letter policies, noun-verb varieties of initial letters, right-to-left reading, accentuations… each alphabet has its own identity, looks, and proper usage.

For example, my box-type tailed no-space alphabet is only used for events inside the school. Stresses are marked with slashes and dots, and initial letters of sentences had varieties. And if I refer to names of my childhood enemies, letters would be written squiggly and had jagged flourishes.

Ako – Enemy edition

When my dad bought us that damned bulky Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary, I started reading it and became familiar with the foreign alphabet formations and evolution. It later influenced one of my codes which I derived from the Cyrillic alphabet of the Russians. I even created a code based from the Arabic series, but made them very very complicated to understand. Not even my Science teacher understood my writings in my notebook when she required us to submit it as final requirement for the subject.

Neil Brian – in print and cursive forms

My crave for manufacturing codes probably profused because of my childhood interest in learning many languages. I have studied so many languages, I sometimes forgot most of my Tagalog vocabulary and relied on the lexicon for years. Seeing me making friends with my foreign classmates, parasitize them, and squeeze their intelligent juices to teach me about their alphabet and vocabulary could be a routine if I’m your seatmate. Just kidding. I just ask them a few questions then I do the rest.

My diary writing just died out. Unlike someone I know who fancied her journals neatly and hippy, I go with the formal, business-like editions. Yet for 6 years, I’ve only done 2 diaries and consumed only 20 pages each.

And with the codes I use, I just demonstrate to people how secretive I am when it comes to personal life. I occasionally tell stories to my close friends, but my love life? No. No one knows except my nose.

I am no extroverted guy who simply discloses lots of details to anybody personally. I’m one odd creature hard to dig in. So hard to interpret, when everybody in the classroom shouts truth or consequence, I always run for my life. If caught, I’ll make sure I cast a show that will convince them to slice my stomach first before getting my precious golden eggs. Or speak Latin, Mandarin Chinese, or Canadian French rapidly and wait them nosebleed.

I admit. I am weird sometimes.

And perhaps, you guys are lucky that you can read me because of this blog. And even taunt me. Oh well.

Asne mushti ivi dini luna pashnea.