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.
← older / top / newer →
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
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.
← older / top / newer →
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
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Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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