La Eternidad
Finding The Fountain of Youth
Immortality – the thing almost everybody wants to have in any possible way; the only thing that can give us the assurance that we can do all the things we want to do, go to places we want to go, while still having to keep our youth and strength, and that there are always second chances; the second word that we can associate with the words “age doesn’t matter” next to love; the thing everybody wants to have but can’t. Immortality. Yes, there is immortality –
if you know how to get to Hogwarts in London and drink the Elixir of Life, or
if you personally know a vampire (preferably as hot as the Salvatore brothers) and ask him to bite you just enough to have his venom in your system and gentle enough to not kill you, or
if you’re one of the gods living in Mount Olympus. Or
if you find the Fountain of Youth, if it exists.
And if ever I find myself waking up one morning, having this painful desire to have immortality – for real – and packing my bags to go on a pilgrimage to look for the Fountain of Youth, and say, after months of travel and weird adventure, I successfully found it: I might have second thoughts. See, even though the thought of immortality and infinite experiences and youth are tempting and beautiful, I still would find myself thinking whether it’s really what I want. Yes, having the time in my hands and travelling wherever I want to and reading every existing books are the things that I want to have. But if I really open my eyes and consider everything that I might give up just to have immortality, I’d rather walk away from the Fountain and go back to bed and catch some good sleep.
As what I’ve read in fictions, immortality isn’t exciting and fun all the time. It’s only exciting and fun when you don’t want to look and smell like an old man, or when you utterly love the song “Forever Young” to the point that you want to literally incorporate it in your life, or when you think vampires are cool. But imagine living everyday – going through high school and college again and again; graduating every four or five years and still going back to school after that; moving in to different places because your neighbors can’t know that you’re this freaky human that doesn’t age and doesn’t get wrinkles; leaving things behind; watching the people you love and know become old and weak and decay; seeing people come and go in front of your eyes; witnessing your children become older than you; and going through all these over and over again, knowing that you can’t do anything about it.
I remember this particular story about immortality, “Escape Clause”, written by Rod Serling from his
Stories from the Twilight Zone collection. In the story, there was this guy who was so afraid of getting sick that he became a hypochondriac. He didn’t understand why people didn’t get to live a hundred or two hundred more years. It was just a bit more years anyway, he would say. Then came the devil, bringing with him immortality and invincibility for the man. The man and the devil came up with an agreement: the man will have eternal life, and should he not need it anymore, all he would do is call for the devil and take the “escape clause”. And so the man lived and didn’t get a scratch or a bruise from the accidents he encountered. But he was bored. There was no thrill. He didn’t get hurt, and that wasn’t fun. He came up with the idea of jumping from the top floor of the building to test this power he had. But instead, it was his wife who fell and died. He called the police and told them he killed his wife. He acquitted himself because he wanted to try the electric chair. He had said, “all they’d get from it is an electric bill!” He wouldn’t die by electrocution. During trials, he’d always say that he was guilty, never did he deny the murder. But his lawyer was a good lawyer. In the end, he was sentenced to lifetime imprisonment. Goodness, he would spend his lifetime – his lifetime that was
endless – behind bars! Imagine what it was like for him. This was definitely not the news he wanted to get. That moment, he realized how much of a greedy and idiotic man he was. And on last resort, he called for the devil and took the escape clause. He died, and his soul was taken by the devil.
The story only showed us that, at first, when you’re immortal, you think you have the time in your hands, that everything is within reach, that you can rule the world anytime you want without worrying about the inevitable fleeting days. Time is unlimited. Time is infinite.
You are infinite. You can make time bow down in front of you. But in the end, you and time would switch places – time will have
you in its hands. You become weary, lonely, bored, lost, wandering – and to top it all, this sadness is excruciatingly endless. When you’re undying, everything inside you also is undying – even pain and suffering. Time will become your master, and you will become its slave, instead of the other way around.
Immortality is something I wouldn’t want to have because of the fact that I want to get old, and experience pleasure and pain, rejoices and regrets, triumphs and trials, life and death. I’d rather just read about immortality in fictions and die peacefully fulfilled than live forever in an infinite stretch of time, an endless road to nowhere, with no definite source of happiness and no place I can truly call a home.
Notes:The Fountain of Youth is a legendary spring that reputedly restores the youth of anyone who drinks of its waters. Tales of such a fountain have been recounted across the world for thousands of years, appearing in writings by Herodotus, the Alexander romance, and the stories of Prester John.
©The Twilight Zone is an American television anthology series created by Rod Serling. Each episode (156 in the original series) is a mixture of self-contained drama, psychological thriller, fantasy, science fiction, suspense, or horror, often concluding with a macabre or unexpected twist. A popular and critical success, it introduced many Americans to serious science fiction and abstract ideas through television and also through a wide variety of Twilight Zone literature.
©This essay was my paper for my Literature homework. I just thought of sharing this because... well, I have nothing worth exciting to share.
Bickering Bittersweet Baggage
Once there was a man. This particular man had ten pairs of hands, ten sets of eyes. See, this man was a busy man. He went all round to accomplish tasks, hustling and bustling through alleys and alleys of chaotic piles of work. What his occupation was, that I wasn’t sure. But, in all its form, he was a busy man. He couldn’t even have time to go out, date or have tea party. His social life was really bad of a record. One of the busy days of this man, he received an email (238740128767 unread) from his old high school friend. They were having a reunion for their batch. He was excited. He liked everything about high school, where things are much more easier and lighter on the shoulders. He liked the sports fest, literature competitions, their mischiefs, the girls, science projects. Everything – although
not the zits and awkward and pitchy voice.
But there was a little problem: the reunion couldn’t be possible unless they acquire more man- and brain-power. In short, they were needing his help. He would have signed himself in a heartbeat had he not been working his butt off all year. He was somehow dubious about helping. But he did. He altered his time table and squeezed in “meetings for reunion” in Friday nights and weekends. He told himself that if he wanted this to happen, it will.
Weeks passed, and as the big day creeped nearer and nearer, his work loads got heavier. His boss was delirious. He would sometimes give him work the night before the presentation. This messed up his schedule. There were times that he couldn’t attend the reunion meeting. It was hard juggling things that he both liked to do.
Three weeks before the big day, he was informed that the reunion was sadly cancelled – postponed actually. It was impossible because the suppliers bailed out, even some of their colleagues weren’t available. He was upset. He was really looking forward to it. But somehow, a part of him was ironically relieved, relieved that it was postponed and another load was lifted. It troubled him that he felt that this news was a good news. It was weird: there was an occurring tag-of-war inside him. Two polar opposites battling, the one side feeling sad, the other feeling glad. He couldn’t decide which to side in, but maybe he was left with no choice, that there wasn’t any option to begin with.
It felt that way – bittersweet.
Awfully bittersweet. It felt that way when I was slapped with the painful news that Literary Musical was cancelled. It wouldn’t happen anymore because... well, I couldn’t actually tell you why because that would be a form of silent rebellion against the Capitol – I meant the school – and because the reasons were rubbish. It felt awfully that way: there was also that same pulling of polar opposites inside me, just like that busy man from the above story (although I’m sorry for the grade school plot and drastic turn of events). I was half sad and half glad that it was all over. It wasn’t my favorite feeling. It was somehow immoral and inconsiderate, but also practical and understandable.
The bitter part of it was that it crushed all our anticipation.
Legally Blonde was like something that made us stand out from our friends, it was like our own flagship that we can brag to our family. Starring in a musical, although small as it was, was a special entry to our experiences as a student. It was something that we worked hard for, and when we win, we could walk the hallways with more confidence. We were all just excited for it. And now there was nothing to look forward to anymore, just more school projects, which nobody
ever liked. No more rehearsals. No more singing, blockings and slutty-but-classy Delta Nu girls. No more free acting workshops from Mikko Angeles and voice lessons with Kevin Inocencio. No more free breads from Ms. Lorie. No more anticipation of beating the others out. No more
Legally Blonde. All gone like a popped balloon:
poof, going, going, gone.
And then there was the sweet part: I was so relieved that there wouldn’t be rehearsals anymore, because, fun as it may seem, it was draining. It ate my time allotted for advance reading, blogging, more reading and catching up with match airing shows. I was relieved that another one of my loads was lifted and made my baggage lighter and easier to handle. The semester will almost be over, and our very
sweet professors gave us extra projects for completion. And we still have written exams, to top it all. There were so many things to do. Juggling them in our hands would need more time and concentration. Think about it, if there are still rehearsals and we’re all worried about our other priorities, more or less, when we’re singing “Omigod”, in our heads the words really go like “Omigod, my paper’s still undone. Omigod, reporting tomorrow. Omigod!”. Distraction leads to destruction. Except for “majestic” and “phenomenal”, another word that can be perfectly associated with theater is “discipline”. If we can’t give 37562746% of our dedication to it,
Legally Blonde will be a total mess. So the cancellation of Literary Musical was somehow a blessing for all of us. I still have a lot of unchecked items in my to-do list: Literature reporting; note-taking in Sociology; Biology midterms; drama production in Music and Sound Effects; AB Broadcasting promo execution; rereading
The Hunger Games for the 378461240984866419th time; develop Wonda; and perfectly rap “Look At Me Now”. Although I feel so bad for rejoicing while the others get pissed off, I can’t help but exhale an exhale of relief.
But bittersweet as it may seem, I’m so grateful for everything I learned from the three weeks of
Legally Blonde rehearsals. I’ve always been fascinated with theater, and so having a tempting taste of it was kind of a head start for me. I’m glad of all the things I learned from our “release everything” sessions and comfortability tests. I realized that with unfaltering support and trust from the others, everything is possible. I learned that the art of deadpan is essential to performing. The rehearsals gave me the opportunity to get to know my co-institutes better and work with them comfortably close than I had imagined. It also gave each one of us a big dose of confidence medicine, and taught us that we’re all special in our own ways (even singing off-key is special). I realized that music and the others can still penetrate through my ever-changing moods and can get me into a brighter and lighter disposition. Although rehearsals weren’t really of a playground for each of us, it still felt like it was because it was fun as bungee jumping and gumballs. It taught us to always be disciplined and that the P-F syndrome is a dead on,
bad syndrome.
Legally Blonde rehearsals are experiences that I would always tell my friends about, its songs and morals I will remember, its memories I will keep in the treasure box inside my head.
Evil Cursing Monster
I’m so busy – this is my new way of saying “Hi, how are you? Okay, bye. Take care.” Not such of a sweetie this Valentine’s eh?
Don’t expect me to be your lover this month. I’ve already told you I will be busy all throughout the twenty nine days of February. My “busy-bee-business” has already started. I’m always so tired. I’m always so occupied. I feel that I’m always sleep-deprived. I don’t even have the time to watch
The Secret Circle,
New Girl and
American Idol anymore (and yep, I don’t miss an episode of
The Vampire Diaries, no matter how busy I am – this is a must). Or have tea party with Captain Jack Sparrow. Or continue reading
The Hobbit, for heaven’s sake! I always wake up wanting to sleep more, and always go to bed achingly to catch some zzzzs. I always go to school with a rather unexcited disposition, and always go back home with sore feet and used voice. This has been my daily routine ever since the month had started. Maybe I should list February as my least favorite from the twelve. And I’m complaining as if I carry the world like Atlas. How shallow of me.
Although not that I’m not enjoying my “busy-bee-business”, because heck, I am! I can’t explain how I enjoy my body’s soreness or my tight schedule, I just do. We’ve already started our
Legally Blonde rehearsals. I will be playing as one of Delta Nu (Elle Woods’ sorority) members, as part of the ensemble and as the weird-tigress-but-an-overt-flirt Paulette. I like Paulette’s personality: she was Elle’s closest friend in East Coast; she owned a beauty salon; she talked like her words could eat you; her hair was weird; she had a fondness for a guy named Kyle Brendan; and she can freakin’ perform the Irish dance! I’m really excited for Literary Musical this 7th of March. Yes, it was fortunately moved to a much more convenient date. Thank you, Jesus Christ! That way, we could rehearse more and perfect our numbers and beat our competitors’ asses off! We are really aiming to win this year because: 1) we want more bragging rights; 2) heck, we have been sacrificing a lot of classes and note-taking sessions and me-times to practice; and 3) they said it was a “legacy” of the Institute of Liberal Arts – since they had always won first place in LitMus for the past several years. Geez, no pressure there at all!
I’m so happy doing this – this really tiring but fun musicals and acting. I’ve always dreamed of trying theater (and continuing ballet and trying painting, photography, sky diving – and okay, this list will go on and on and on as long as your mother’s mouth when you did something bad) but couldn’t because I don’t know how and where to go. I’ve done some acting in high school because we were required to present scenes from our Filipino books. It’s really fun. But this
doesn’t mean that I want to be an actor or a celebrity – geez, not at all. I just like getting into character and playing out personalities I never knew existed.
Another thing: there’s something wrong with me (I didn’t use the word “weird” since that’s my norm): I keep on cursing and using inappropriate words that would totally give me minus points from Sam Concepcion’s parents the moment we are introduced (remember my
wish counter?). I already told myself to swear less and gradually erase them in my verbal dictionary. I even wrote it down on my
New Year’s Resolution. This is bad. It gets worse and worse each day. Every time I see cute, energetic kids dancing or playing or flying paper planes, I’m like, “@&*$, I hope you would all just stay that small and young.” Or when I see a high school student whose height won’t even pass as a fourth grader, I’m like, “@&*$, seriously?!” (this is so bad – I can’t believe I think of others that way when I’m just a 5’5” myself). Or that moment when I met a senior from our institute whom I thought was a woman because she has pretty hair, I was like, “@&*$, she’s
not a she? But she’s so pretty!” (and until now, I don’t want to use “he” as a pronoun when talking about this person, and I still call her “Ate *her name*”). I don’t know why the small things make me swear like I’m a professional in swearing, which I’m not. My mouth is so dirty; it’s like I shoved mud into it. Ha! This makes me remember high school days when my schoolmates would say “gargle some holy water” to clean one’s cursing mouth. But seriously, I
need to work on this. The Concepcion family wouldn’t be happy with me and my words if this continues.
This is my new pair of rubber shoes from my aunt! I named her “Pegasus” – or “Pegs” when I’m lazy – because I’ve read from its label that it is a Nike Zoom Air Fitsole Pegasus 28 (collective words I’ve seen printed on the shoes – inside, outside and under). I’m not sure about these labels because I don’t know the types of shoes and how to distinguish which is which. Isn’t it the cutest? I like the color because it isn’t the usual baby-I’m-such-a-girlie pink – it’s hot pink, plus white and light gray. And when I put it on, it makes me taller by two inches. Wow, it makes me 5’7”. She also sent me some clothes which are too sexy for me to wear in normal occasions – but, hooray, the tops came just in time for
Legally Blonde (the girls of Delta Nu dressed like “hoochies with class”). Thank you so much, Aunt Edma!
I’ve been listening to two songs lately, both sung by Filipino artists, both came from YouTube, and both are apparently friends: Krissy and Ericka (I count them as one) and AJ Rafael. I may be swearing a lot and criticizing people lately, but I’m gradually liking, listening and supporting local talents in the music industry. I’m such a bad Filipino citizen. Oh well, we all have this little evil monster inside us. No excuses.
Cause it’s 12:51 and I thought my feelings were gone. But I’m lying on my bed thinking of you again. And the moon shines so bright but I gotta dry these tears tonight. Cause you’re moving on and I’m not that strong to hold on any longer.
© 12:51, Krissy and Ericka
Wake up, feel the air that I’m breathin’. I can’t explain this feeling that I’m feelin’. I won’t go another day without you (without you). Hold on, I promise it gets brighter. When it rains I’ll hold you even tighter. I won’t go another day without you (without you).
© Without You, AJ Rafael
The Blonde and The Beard
What a busy month February will be for me!
And that’s how I open my first blog entry for the second – or more popularly known as the “romantic” – month of the year. But truth be told, my February 1st was draining –
mentally draining, that is. I got to school and was slapped with a schedule and list of projects good for the whole month. What in the world was that? Our professor is apparently unavailable because of more important matters. It pissed me off because: 1) one month? Seriously?; 2) I haven’t learned anything worth knowing about the subject; and 3) one month? Are you kidding? But what the heck, college isn’t college without shits falling from time to time.
Here are other reasons why February is and will be my half-most favorite half-least favorite month (so far):
Legally Blonde, the Musical. One of the things I like about the school I’m attending to is their annual Literary Musical. From what I’ve learned with the help of my annoying queries, Literary Musical is like the College Intramurals/Sportsfest. But in the case of LitMus (this is how they call it), students are grouped according to the majors their taking and will present a musical performance (thank goodness, this isn’t sports) in the most creative way they can to impress the judges. Think of a talent contest and
Glee combined. And for the Institute of Liberal Arts: AB Broadcasting, our assigned director Mikko Angeles (the only dude I personally know who acts on stage, which makes him a hundred times more awesome than other dudes) proposed us several popular musicals that we can adapt and present:
Legally Blonde,
The Rocky Horror,
Hairspray and
In the Heights. I have chosen
The Rocky Horror because: 1) it was once shown in
Glee; 2) it was part of Charlie’s life in
The Perks of Being a Wallflower (Stephen Chbosky); and 3) it is the freakin’
Rocky Horror. Enough said. But only .00069203% of the AB Broadcasting students voted for this particularly eerie but epically epic musical.
Legally Blonde won by knock out. So
Legally Blonde and Elle Woods, it is.
I’m not sure yet how we’re going to pull this off with just a 5-8 rehearsal days. But we can do and win this! We have Mikko as our director and Marion Pagcaliwagan as Elle Woods! I may be unsure about the tight schedule we have, but heck, I’m sure we can make this work. So what if we win? I don’t think there is a tangible prize, but bragging rights are enough. I will update you about LitMus, promise.
Literature Reporting. I’m excited for this, really. I love Literature and nonstop message relays. I’ve gotten the hang of class reporting, and weird stares from classmates sitting in the first and second rows, and inattentiveness from those who are at the back of the room, and my body’s reaction (massive blushing and inconsistent pulse rate) while talking infront. I’m excited because I seriously want this to already end. Prolonging my jitters won’t do me good, will it?
Draining-like-laundry-machine Softball Practices and Friendly Matches. If I’ve already gotten the hang of reporting,
this – this thing we do to pass Team Sports while excrutiatingly killing ourselves in the process – I haven’t. I have something to tell you though: as much as I’m hating myself for being such a weak player in every physical game imaginable, I’m quite...
enjoying this game. Just this Friday, we had a friendly match with the College of Teacher Education students, and guess what guys? A ball (and yes it was the mushy ball again) was pitched, I swung, I missed. The second pitch came, I swung, I hit, I ran to first base without getting tagged (and yes, I know this game and the terms already). Another batter batted, she missed, but I was allowed to run to second base, I got there safely. The same batter batted, she hit; the defense team all scurried to get the ball; I ran like a mad killer to third base, I almost got tagged, but I got there first by a painful millisecond; I accidentally stepped on someone’s foot, I said sorry, he said it was okay. A new batter batted, she missed till third pitch and was struck out. I held on to my base. Another batter batted and had the same fate with the one before her. And still I held on. The team was out (what’s the right term again?). My team was out.
I was out. I didn’t get to home plate. Such a fate.
Yes, I only got to third base. No home run, guys. Although I would have wanted to complete the bases and give my team a score, third base wasn’t at all bad. I was so happy about what I did that I suddenly had the flicker of a hope that, maybe, I could pass Team Sports and not have a written-in-bloody-red-5 in my scholastic card. And I hope my teammates could, too.
Valentine’s Day. What can I
even say about this.
Semi-finals Exams. Meh.
One more month (plus several days) till The Hunger Games movie release. FTW! I will see you in the Seam and the Arena, Zandro and Kathleen. Peeta Mellark, I will buy and eat your breads till I become as broke as your backyard mouse and as green as one of Katniss’ people from her prep team. Liam Hemsworth, please be a good Gale Hawthorne. Jennifer Lawrence, I trust you completely. Seneca Crane, I will finally witness the glory of your fantastic beard.
And oh, by the way, Wonda has already been born. She isn’t that ready yet ‘cause she still hasn’t bloomed to an acceptable-by-blog-standard way. But she will, soon enough. And I swear by the berries, I will tell you about what the results of these things (or shits, perhaps) are in my future posts. Have a good and romantic and fantastic-as-Seneca’s-beard February everybody!
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
La Eternidad
Finding The Fountain of Youth
Immortality – the thing almost everybody wants to have in any possible way; the only thing that can give us the assurance that we can do all the things we want to do, go to places we want to go, while still having to keep our youth and strength, and that there are always second chances; the second word that we can associate with the words “age doesn’t matter” next to love; the thing everybody wants to have but can’t. Immortality. Yes, there is immortality –
if you know how to get to Hogwarts in London and drink the Elixir of Life, or
if you personally know a vampire (preferably as hot as the Salvatore brothers) and ask him to bite you just enough to have his venom in your system and gentle enough to not kill you, or
if you’re one of the gods living in Mount Olympus. Or
if you find the Fountain of Youth, if it exists.
And if ever I find myself waking up one morning, having this painful desire to have immortality – for real – and packing my bags to go on a pilgrimage to look for the Fountain of Youth, and say, after months of travel and weird adventure, I successfully found it: I might have second thoughts. See, even though the thought of immortality and infinite experiences and youth are tempting and beautiful, I still would find myself thinking whether it’s really what I want. Yes, having the time in my hands and travelling wherever I want to and reading every existing books are the things that I want to have. But if I really open my eyes and consider everything that I might give up just to have immortality, I’d rather walk away from the Fountain and go back to bed and catch some good sleep.
As what I’ve read in fictions, immortality isn’t exciting and fun all the time. It’s only exciting and fun when you don’t want to look and smell like an old man, or when you utterly love the song “Forever Young” to the point that you want to literally incorporate it in your life, or when you think vampires are cool. But imagine living everyday – going through high school and college again and again; graduating every four or five years and still going back to school after that; moving in to different places because your neighbors can’t know that you’re this freaky human that doesn’t age and doesn’t get wrinkles; leaving things behind; watching the people you love and know become old and weak and decay; seeing people come and go in front of your eyes; witnessing your children become older than you; and going through all these over and over again, knowing that you can’t do anything about it.
I remember this particular story about immortality, “Escape Clause”, written by Rod Serling from his
Stories from the Twilight Zone collection. In the story, there was this guy who was so afraid of getting sick that he became a hypochondriac. He didn’t understand why people didn’t get to live a hundred or two hundred more years. It was just a bit more years anyway, he would say. Then came the devil, bringing with him immortality and invincibility for the man. The man and the devil came up with an agreement: the man will have eternal life, and should he not need it anymore, all he would do is call for the devil and take the “escape clause”. And so the man lived and didn’t get a scratch or a bruise from the accidents he encountered. But he was bored. There was no thrill. He didn’t get hurt, and that wasn’t fun. He came up with the idea of jumping from the top floor of the building to test this power he had. But instead, it was his wife who fell and died. He called the police and told them he killed his wife. He acquitted himself because he wanted to try the electric chair. He had said, “all they’d get from it is an electric bill!” He wouldn’t die by electrocution. During trials, he’d always say that he was guilty, never did he deny the murder. But his lawyer was a good lawyer. In the end, he was sentenced to lifetime imprisonment. Goodness, he would spend his lifetime – his lifetime that was
endless – behind bars! Imagine what it was like for him. This was definitely not the news he wanted to get. That moment, he realized how much of a greedy and idiotic man he was. And on last resort, he called for the devil and took the escape clause. He died, and his soul was taken by the devil.
The story only showed us that, at first, when you’re immortal, you think you have the time in your hands, that everything is within reach, that you can rule the world anytime you want without worrying about the inevitable fleeting days. Time is unlimited. Time is infinite.
You are infinite. You can make time bow down in front of you. But in the end, you and time would switch places – time will have
you in its hands. You become weary, lonely, bored, lost, wandering – and to top it all, this sadness is excruciatingly endless. When you’re undying, everything inside you also is undying – even pain and suffering. Time will become your master, and you will become its slave, instead of the other way around.
Immortality is something I wouldn’t want to have because of the fact that I want to get old, and experience pleasure and pain, rejoices and regrets, triumphs and trials, life and death. I’d rather just read about immortality in fictions and die peacefully fulfilled than live forever in an infinite stretch of time, an endless road to nowhere, with no definite source of happiness and no place I can truly call a home.
Notes:The Fountain of Youth is a legendary spring that reputedly restores the youth of anyone who drinks of its waters. Tales of such a fountain have been recounted across the world for thousands of years, appearing in writings by Herodotus, the Alexander romance, and the stories of Prester John.
©The Twilight Zone is an American television anthology series created by Rod Serling. Each episode (156 in the original series) is a mixture of self-contained drama, psychological thriller, fantasy, science fiction, suspense, or horror, often concluding with a macabre or unexpected twist. A popular and critical success, it introduced many Americans to serious science fiction and abstract ideas through television and also through a wide variety of Twilight Zone literature.
©This essay was my paper for my Literature homework. I just thought of sharing this because... well, I have nothing worth exciting to share.
Bickering Bittersweet Baggage
Once there was a man. This particular man had ten pairs of hands, ten sets of eyes. See, this man was a busy man. He went all round to accomplish tasks, hustling and bustling through alleys and alleys of chaotic piles of work. What his occupation was, that I wasn’t sure. But, in all its form, he was a busy man. He couldn’t even have time to go out, date or have tea party. His social life was really bad of a record. One of the busy days of this man, he received an email (238740128767 unread) from his old high school friend. They were having a reunion for their batch. He was excited. He liked everything about high school, where things are much more easier and lighter on the shoulders. He liked the sports fest, literature competitions, their mischiefs, the girls, science projects. Everything – although
not the zits and awkward and pitchy voice.
But there was a little problem: the reunion couldn’t be possible unless they acquire more man- and brain-power. In short, they were needing his help. He would have signed himself in a heartbeat had he not been working his butt off all year. He was somehow dubious about helping. But he did. He altered his time table and squeezed in “meetings for reunion” in Friday nights and weekends. He told himself that if he wanted this to happen, it will.
Weeks passed, and as the big day creeped nearer and nearer, his work loads got heavier. His boss was delirious. He would sometimes give him work the night before the presentation. This messed up his schedule. There were times that he couldn’t attend the reunion meeting. It was hard juggling things that he both liked to do.
Three weeks before the big day, he was informed that the reunion was sadly cancelled – postponed actually. It was impossible because the suppliers bailed out, even some of their colleagues weren’t available. He was upset. He was really looking forward to it. But somehow, a part of him was ironically relieved, relieved that it was postponed and another load was lifted. It troubled him that he felt that this news was a good news. It was weird: there was an occurring tag-of-war inside him. Two polar opposites battling, the one side feeling sad, the other feeling glad. He couldn’t decide which to side in, but maybe he was left with no choice, that there wasn’t any option to begin with.
It felt that way – bittersweet.
Awfully bittersweet. It felt that way when I was slapped with the painful news that Literary Musical was cancelled. It wouldn’t happen anymore because... well, I couldn’t actually tell you why because that would be a form of silent rebellion against the Capitol – I meant the school – and because the reasons were rubbish. It felt awfully that way: there was also that same pulling of polar opposites inside me, just like that busy man from the above story (although I’m sorry for the grade school plot and drastic turn of events). I was half sad and half glad that it was all over. It wasn’t my favorite feeling. It was somehow immoral and inconsiderate, but also practical and understandable.
The bitter part of it was that it crushed all our anticipation.
Legally Blonde was like something that made us stand out from our friends, it was like our own flagship that we can brag to our family. Starring in a musical, although small as it was, was a special entry to our experiences as a student. It was something that we worked hard for, and when we win, we could walk the hallways with more confidence. We were all just excited for it. And now there was nothing to look forward to anymore, just more school projects, which nobody
ever liked. No more rehearsals. No more singing, blockings and slutty-but-classy Delta Nu girls. No more free acting workshops from Mikko Angeles and voice lessons with Kevin Inocencio. No more free breads from Ms. Lorie. No more anticipation of beating the others out. No more
Legally Blonde. All gone like a popped balloon:
poof, going, going, gone.
And then there was the sweet part: I was so relieved that there wouldn’t be rehearsals anymore, because, fun as it may seem, it was draining. It ate my time allotted for advance reading, blogging, more reading and catching up with match airing shows. I was relieved that another one of my loads was lifted and made my baggage lighter and easier to handle. The semester will almost be over, and our very
sweet professors gave us extra projects for completion. And we still have written exams, to top it all. There were so many things to do. Juggling them in our hands would need more time and concentration. Think about it, if there are still rehearsals and we’re all worried about our other priorities, more or less, when we’re singing “Omigod”, in our heads the words really go like “Omigod, my paper’s still undone. Omigod, reporting tomorrow. Omigod!”. Distraction leads to destruction. Except for “majestic” and “phenomenal”, another word that can be perfectly associated with theater is “discipline”. If we can’t give 37562746% of our dedication to it,
Legally Blonde will be a total mess. So the cancellation of Literary Musical was somehow a blessing for all of us. I still have a lot of unchecked items in my to-do list: Literature reporting; note-taking in Sociology; Biology midterms; drama production in Music and Sound Effects; AB Broadcasting promo execution; rereading
The Hunger Games for the 378461240984866419th time; develop Wonda; and perfectly rap “Look At Me Now”. Although I feel so bad for rejoicing while the others get pissed off, I can’t help but exhale an exhale of relief.
But bittersweet as it may seem, I’m so grateful for everything I learned from the three weeks of
Legally Blonde rehearsals. I’ve always been fascinated with theater, and so having a tempting taste of it was kind of a head start for me. I’m glad of all the things I learned from our “release everything” sessions and comfortability tests. I realized that with unfaltering support and trust from the others, everything is possible. I learned that the art of deadpan is essential to performing. The rehearsals gave me the opportunity to get to know my co-institutes better and work with them comfortably close than I had imagined. It also gave each one of us a big dose of confidence medicine, and taught us that we’re all special in our own ways (even singing off-key is special). I realized that music and the others can still penetrate through my ever-changing moods and can get me into a brighter and lighter disposition. Although rehearsals weren’t really of a playground for each of us, it still felt like it was because it was fun as bungee jumping and gumballs. It taught us to always be disciplined and that the P-F syndrome is a dead on,
bad syndrome.
Legally Blonde rehearsals are experiences that I would always tell my friends about, its songs and morals I will remember, its memories I will keep in the treasure box inside my head.
Evil Cursing Monster
I’m so busy – this is my new way of saying “Hi, how are you? Okay, bye. Take care.” Not such of a sweetie this Valentine’s eh?
Don’t expect me to be your lover this month. I’ve already told you I will be busy all throughout the twenty nine days of February. My “busy-bee-business” has already started. I’m always so tired. I’m always so occupied. I feel that I’m always sleep-deprived. I don’t even have the time to watch
The Secret Circle,
New Girl and
American Idol anymore (and yep, I don’t miss an episode of
The Vampire Diaries, no matter how busy I am – this is a must). Or have tea party with Captain Jack Sparrow. Or continue reading
The Hobbit, for heaven’s sake! I always wake up wanting to sleep more, and always go to bed achingly to catch some zzzzs. I always go to school with a rather unexcited disposition, and always go back home with sore feet and used voice. This has been my daily routine ever since the month had started. Maybe I should list February as my least favorite from the twelve. And I’m complaining as if I carry the world like Atlas. How shallow of me.
Although not that I’m not enjoying my “busy-bee-business”, because heck, I am! I can’t explain how I enjoy my body’s soreness or my tight schedule, I just do. We’ve already started our
Legally Blonde rehearsals. I will be playing as one of Delta Nu (Elle Woods’ sorority) members, as part of the ensemble and as the weird-tigress-but-an-overt-flirt Paulette. I like Paulette’s personality: she was Elle’s closest friend in East Coast; she owned a beauty salon; she talked like her words could eat you; her hair was weird; she had a fondness for a guy named Kyle Brendan; and she can freakin’ perform the Irish dance! I’m really excited for Literary Musical this 7th of March. Yes, it was fortunately moved to a much more convenient date. Thank you, Jesus Christ! That way, we could rehearse more and perfect our numbers and beat our competitors’ asses off! We are really aiming to win this year because: 1) we want more bragging rights; 2) heck, we have been sacrificing a lot of classes and note-taking sessions and me-times to practice; and 3) they said it was a “legacy” of the Institute of Liberal Arts – since they had always won first place in LitMus for the past several years. Geez, no pressure there at all!
I’m so happy doing this – this really tiring but fun musicals and acting. I’ve always dreamed of trying theater (and continuing ballet and trying painting, photography, sky diving – and okay, this list will go on and on and on as long as your mother’s mouth when you did something bad) but couldn’t because I don’t know how and where to go. I’ve done some acting in high school because we were required to present scenes from our Filipino books. It’s really fun. But this
doesn’t mean that I want to be an actor or a celebrity – geez, not at all. I just like getting into character and playing out personalities I never knew existed.
Another thing: there’s something wrong with me (I didn’t use the word “weird” since that’s my norm): I keep on cursing and using inappropriate words that would totally give me minus points from Sam Concepcion’s parents the moment we are introduced (remember my
wish counter?). I already told myself to swear less and gradually erase them in my verbal dictionary. I even wrote it down on my
New Year’s Resolution. This is bad. It gets worse and worse each day. Every time I see cute, energetic kids dancing or playing or flying paper planes, I’m like, “@&*$, I hope you would all just stay that small and young.” Or when I see a high school student whose height won’t even pass as a fourth grader, I’m like, “@&*$, seriously?!” (this is so bad – I can’t believe I think of others that way when I’m just a 5’5” myself). Or that moment when I met a senior from our institute whom I thought was a woman because she has pretty hair, I was like, “@&*$, she’s
not a she? But she’s so pretty!” (and until now, I don’t want to use “he” as a pronoun when talking about this person, and I still call her “Ate *her name*”). I don’t know why the small things make me swear like I’m a professional in swearing, which I’m not. My mouth is so dirty; it’s like I shoved mud into it. Ha! This makes me remember high school days when my schoolmates would say “gargle some holy water” to clean one’s cursing mouth. But seriously, I
need to work on this. The Concepcion family wouldn’t be happy with me and my words if this continues.
This is my new pair of rubber shoes from my aunt! I named her “Pegasus” – or “Pegs” when I’m lazy – because I’ve read from its label that it is a Nike Zoom Air Fitsole Pegasus 28 (collective words I’ve seen printed on the shoes – inside, outside and under). I’m not sure about these labels because I don’t know the types of shoes and how to distinguish which is which. Isn’t it the cutest? I like the color because it isn’t the usual baby-I’m-such-a-girlie pink – it’s hot pink, plus white and light gray. And when I put it on, it makes me taller by two inches. Wow, it makes me 5’7”. She also sent me some clothes which are too sexy for me to wear in normal occasions – but, hooray, the tops came just in time for
Legally Blonde (the girls of Delta Nu dressed like “hoochies with class”). Thank you so much, Aunt Edma!
I’ve been listening to two songs lately, both sung by Filipino artists, both came from YouTube, and both are apparently friends: Krissy and Ericka (I count them as one) and AJ Rafael. I may be swearing a lot and criticizing people lately, but I’m gradually liking, listening and supporting local talents in the music industry. I’m such a bad Filipino citizen. Oh well, we all have this little evil monster inside us. No excuses.
Cause it’s 12:51 and I thought my feelings were gone. But I’m lying on my bed thinking of you again. And the moon shines so bright but I gotta dry these tears tonight. Cause you’re moving on and I’m not that strong to hold on any longer.
© 12:51, Krissy and Ericka
Wake up, feel the air that I’m breathin’. I can’t explain this feeling that I’m feelin’. I won’t go another day without you (without you). Hold on, I promise it gets brighter. When it rains I’ll hold you even tighter. I won’t go another day without you (without you).
© Without You, AJ Rafael
The Blonde and The Beard
What a busy month February will be for me!
And that’s how I open my first blog entry for the second – or more popularly known as the “romantic” – month of the year. But truth be told, my February 1st was draining –
mentally draining, that is. I got to school and was slapped with a schedule and list of projects good for the whole month. What in the world was that? Our professor is apparently unavailable because of more important matters. It pissed me off because: 1) one month? Seriously?; 2) I haven’t learned anything worth knowing about the subject; and 3) one month? Are you kidding? But what the heck, college isn’t college without shits falling from time to time.
Here are other reasons why February is and will be my half-most favorite half-least favorite month (so far):
Legally Blonde, the Musical. One of the things I like about the school I’m attending to is their annual Literary Musical. From what I’ve learned with the help of my annoying queries, Literary Musical is like the College Intramurals/Sportsfest. But in the case of LitMus (this is how they call it), students are grouped according to the majors their taking and will present a musical performance (thank goodness, this isn’t sports) in the most creative way they can to impress the judges. Think of a talent contest and
Glee combined. And for the Institute of Liberal Arts: AB Broadcasting, our assigned director Mikko Angeles (the only dude I personally know who acts on stage, which makes him a hundred times more awesome than other dudes) proposed us several popular musicals that we can adapt and present:
Legally Blonde,
The Rocky Horror,
Hairspray and
In the Heights. I have chosen
The Rocky Horror because: 1) it was once shown in
Glee; 2) it was part of Charlie’s life in
The Perks of Being a Wallflower (Stephen Chbosky); and 3) it is the freakin’
Rocky Horror. Enough said. But only .00069203% of the AB Broadcasting students voted for this particularly eerie but epically epic musical.
Legally Blonde won by knock out. So
Legally Blonde and Elle Woods, it is.
I’m not sure yet how we’re going to pull this off with just a 5-8 rehearsal days. But we can do and win this! We have Mikko as our director and Marion Pagcaliwagan as Elle Woods! I may be unsure about the tight schedule we have, but heck, I’m sure we can make this work. So what if we win? I don’t think there is a tangible prize, but bragging rights are enough. I will update you about LitMus, promise.
Literature Reporting. I’m excited for this, really. I love Literature and nonstop message relays. I’ve gotten the hang of class reporting, and weird stares from classmates sitting in the first and second rows, and inattentiveness from those who are at the back of the room, and my body’s reaction (massive blushing and inconsistent pulse rate) while talking infront. I’m excited because I seriously want this to already end. Prolonging my jitters won’t do me good, will it?
Draining-like-laundry-machine Softball Practices and Friendly Matches. If I’ve already gotten the hang of reporting,
this – this thing we do to pass Team Sports while excrutiatingly killing ourselves in the process – I haven’t. I have something to tell you though: as much as I’m hating myself for being such a weak player in every physical game imaginable, I’m quite...
enjoying this game. Just this Friday, we had a friendly match with the College of Teacher Education students, and guess what guys? A ball (and yes it was the mushy ball again) was pitched, I swung, I missed. The second pitch came, I swung, I hit, I ran to first base without getting tagged (and yes, I know this game and the terms already). Another batter batted, she missed, but I was allowed to run to second base, I got there safely. The same batter batted, she hit; the defense team all scurried to get the ball; I ran like a mad killer to third base, I almost got tagged, but I got there first by a painful millisecond; I accidentally stepped on someone’s foot, I said sorry, he said it was okay. A new batter batted, she missed till third pitch and was struck out. I held on to my base. Another batter batted and had the same fate with the one before her. And still I held on. The team was out (what’s the right term again?). My team was out.
I was out. I didn’t get to home plate. Such a fate.
Yes, I only got to third base. No home run, guys. Although I would have wanted to complete the bases and give my team a score, third base wasn’t at all bad. I was so happy about what I did that I suddenly had the flicker of a hope that, maybe, I could pass Team Sports and not have a written-in-bloody-red-5 in my scholastic card. And I hope my teammates could, too.
Valentine’s Day. What can I
even say about this.
Semi-finals Exams. Meh.
One more month (plus several days) till The Hunger Games movie release. FTW! I will see you in the Seam and the Arena, Zandro and Kathleen. Peeta Mellark, I will buy and eat your breads till I become as broke as your backyard mouse and as green as one of Katniss’ people from her prep team. Liam Hemsworth, please be a good Gale Hawthorne. Jennifer Lawrence, I trust you completely. Seneca Crane, I will finally witness the glory of your fantastic beard.
And oh, by the way, Wonda has already been born. She isn’t that ready yet ‘cause she still hasn’t bloomed to an acceptable-by-blog-standard way. But she will, soon enough. And I swear by the berries, I will tell you about what the results of these things (or shits, perhaps) are in my future posts. Have a good and romantic and fantastic-as-Seneca’s-beard February everybody!
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
