Escape Route
If I’d have to describe last night it would have to be
magical.
But maybe a single adjective can’t completely explain what happened last night. It was
way too awesome it deserves its own space in my blog – maybe even a poem and/or a song (title suggestion: “Last Monday Night” – yeah, very original, yeah).
So there’s this guy (and no, for the first time in a very long time, he’s
not Great Love). So anyway, there’s this guy. He’s one of the few people I can really call a friend. Without hesitation, without batting an eyelash. We rarely see each other, but when we do, it’s like a big episode of
Big Bang Theory and maybe
Sherlock and probably
The Golden Girls, just with bad humor. And last night wasn’t an exception. It was one of the few moments that I’m grateful I got the chance to treasure and remember because it’ll definitely help me keep my sanity in the long run.
Last night was magical. Last night was one of a kind. Last night was fantastic. Last night was unexpected. Last night was a memory worth keeping.
If we go to all the technicalities, this overly-praised night wasn’t actually flawless: 1) we came in late for the movie (
Transcendence starring Johnny Depp, Morgan freaking Freeman and the lady who looks like Scarlett Johansson) and missed the trailers (sad); 2) said movie was so fucking unbelievable that 3) “fucks” and “holy shits” were given countless times, that 4) it left us feeling distraught after; and 5) the technical people inside the technical room at the back of the cinema had their television turned high that moviegoers actually heard the jingle to a TVC. But these are imperfections that make everything better and more special.
What I love most about last night was the conversation. I am really such a sucker for conversations. We talked for, like, three hours straight. We talked about the weirdest things: history, murals, man’s existence, prostitution, nationalism, how to describe the night in a poetic manner, the death of a flower, tongue piercings, dreams, fears, hesitations. With these conversations, I also learned a lot about myself. When I asked him to describe me, he freaked out (sorry for the verb), said he wasn’t prepared and that asking him of this was like taking a quiz you haven’t prepared for. But after a lot of pushing and death glares, he described me in the most amazing way possible: by being brutally honest.
I already knew that I really
suck at socializing, but he further rubbed it on me, adding that I don’t need to be too choosy with people I want to associate myself with, that I should befriend someone that has a personality totally opposite mine, that if I only try, I could be the Awesome Queen of Socializing because I have a dang awesome personality and the poor muggles need some awesomeness in their lives (okay, okay, I just made the last part up). I must say it kinda hurt hearing the truth, but I am kinda masochistic – and I just needed that confirmation. So does this mean my “I hate people in general” mantra should be thrown in the trash?
Ironically, the best compliment I have ever received in my lifetime also came from him: I am a good conversationalist. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I
am. He said that I’m “witty”, and he enjoys talking to me because I challenge his intelligence (I just made that up), because last night I just blurted out that putting flowers in a vase doesn’t always pertain to slowly killing something and witnessing to its slow and painful deterioration, that sometimes, watching the flowers wilt, loose petals everyday and bend down like in sad movies opens us to the beauty of life and death. (Umm, what did I just say?) Plus, he said that I can be a beauty queen someday – and that’s just utter bullshit.
Spending six hour with him is probably one of the best choices I have ever made in my life. The talking, the laughing, the weirdness, and the comforting thought that you have someone that’ll listen to you anytime are pretty awesome. I know this may sound bad but I also regard this friendship as an
escape route – a way to temporarily forget about problems and just soak in the beauty of everything around us, a way to learn by just observing and being open-minded, a way to find inspiration in the littlest things, a way to get lost and find ourselves again. This friend makes me realize that the world is really shitty, but we can always find a way to dodge the shits or maybe get use to the smell.
Sometimes I just want to hug him so tight until we both crumble to dust (and regenerate like we’re in the fucking
Transcendence). Sometimes I just want to give him a non-romantic, really friendly, no-malice kiss to show how much I appreciate his presence in my life. He is the friend I don’t take photos with because we’re cool like that, because photos don’t really tell the whole story and can’t document the sound of our voices or our laughter or the buzz of flies partying above our heads, because memories tucked in our brains are better than those filtered pixels we upload on Instagram. He is the friend I don’t feel awkward around, whom I can tell the weirdest things to and he’d judge me for it and it’s okay because he’s one of the most honest individuals I know, whom I know I can be safe with even if I’m exceedingly clumsy, who’d listen to me non-stop until midnight, who I hang out with and feel like we’re in one of The Summer Set’s music videos (shameless plug for my babes). He is someone I can really call a friend – without the quotation marks. Fuck, I may not have a lot of friends, but the little that I have is a collection of the most amazing people ever.
The night was so magical and awesome and amazing that I didn’t want it to end. But like a novel full of blissful feels, all beautiful things have to come to conclusion. That’s reality – it’s shitty, but it’s also beautiful.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Escape Route
If I’d have to describe last night it would have to be
magical.
But maybe a single adjective can’t completely explain what happened last night. It was
way too awesome it deserves its own space in my blog – maybe even a poem and/or a song (title suggestion: “Last Monday Night” – yeah, very original, yeah).
So there’s this guy (and no, for the first time in a very long time, he’s
not Great Love). So anyway, there’s this guy. He’s one of the few people I can really call a friend. Without hesitation, without batting an eyelash. We rarely see each other, but when we do, it’s like a big episode of
Big Bang Theory and maybe
Sherlock and probably
The Golden Girls, just with bad humor. And last night wasn’t an exception. It was one of the few moments that I’m grateful I got the chance to treasure and remember because it’ll definitely help me keep my sanity in the long run.
Last night was magical. Last night was one of a kind. Last night was fantastic. Last night was unexpected. Last night was a memory worth keeping.
If we go to all the technicalities, this overly-praised night wasn’t actually flawless: 1) we came in late for the movie (
Transcendence starring Johnny Depp, Morgan freaking Freeman and the lady who looks like Scarlett Johansson) and missed the trailers (sad); 2) said movie was so fucking unbelievable that 3) “fucks” and “holy shits” were given countless times, that 4) it left us feeling distraught after; and 5) the technical people inside the technical room at the back of the cinema had their television turned high that moviegoers actually heard the jingle to a TVC. But these are imperfections that make everything better and more special.
What I love most about last night was the conversation. I am really such a sucker for conversations. We talked for, like, three hours straight. We talked about the weirdest things: history, murals, man’s existence, prostitution, nationalism, how to describe the night in a poetic manner, the death of a flower, tongue piercings, dreams, fears, hesitations. With these conversations, I also learned a lot about myself. When I asked him to describe me, he freaked out (sorry for the verb), said he wasn’t prepared and that asking him of this was like taking a quiz you haven’t prepared for. But after a lot of pushing and death glares, he described me in the most amazing way possible: by being brutally honest.
I already knew that I really
suck at socializing, but he further rubbed it on me, adding that I don’t need to be too choosy with people I want to associate myself with, that I should befriend someone that has a personality totally opposite mine, that if I only try, I could be the Awesome Queen of Socializing because I have a dang awesome personality and the poor muggles need some awesomeness in their lives (okay, okay, I just made the last part up). I must say it kinda hurt hearing the truth, but I am kinda masochistic – and I just needed that confirmation. So does this mean my “I hate people in general” mantra should be thrown in the trash?
Ironically, the best compliment I have ever received in my lifetime also came from him: I am a good conversationalist. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I
am. He said that I’m “witty”, and he enjoys talking to me because I challenge his intelligence (I just made that up), because last night I just blurted out that putting flowers in a vase doesn’t always pertain to slowly killing something and witnessing to its slow and painful deterioration, that sometimes, watching the flowers wilt, loose petals everyday and bend down like in sad movies opens us to the beauty of life and death. (Umm, what did I just say?) Plus, he said that I can be a beauty queen someday – and that’s just utter bullshit.
Spending six hour with him is probably one of the best choices I have ever made in my life. The talking, the laughing, the weirdness, and the comforting thought that you have someone that’ll listen to you anytime are pretty awesome. I know this may sound bad but I also regard this friendship as an
escape route – a way to temporarily forget about problems and just soak in the beauty of everything around us, a way to learn by just observing and being open-minded, a way to find inspiration in the littlest things, a way to get lost and find ourselves again. This friend makes me realize that the world is really shitty, but we can always find a way to dodge the shits or maybe get use to the smell.
Sometimes I just want to hug him so tight until we both crumble to dust (and regenerate like we’re in the fucking
Transcendence). Sometimes I just want to give him a non-romantic, really friendly, no-malice kiss to show how much I appreciate his presence in my life. He is the friend I don’t take photos with because we’re cool like that, because photos don’t really tell the whole story and can’t document the sound of our voices or our laughter or the buzz of flies partying above our heads, because memories tucked in our brains are better than those filtered pixels we upload on Instagram. He is the friend I don’t feel awkward around, whom I can tell the weirdest things to and he’d judge me for it and it’s okay because he’s one of the most honest individuals I know, whom I know I can be safe with even if I’m exceedingly clumsy, who’d listen to me non-stop until midnight, who I hang out with and feel like we’re in one of The Summer Set’s music videos (shameless plug for my babes). He is someone I can really call a friend – without the quotation marks. Fuck, I may not have a lot of friends, but the little that I have is a collection of the most amazing people ever.
The night was so magical and awesome and amazing that I didn’t want it to end. But like a novel full of blissful feels, all beautiful things have to come to conclusion. That’s reality – it’s shitty, but it’s also beautiful.
← older / top / newer →
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Profile
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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