On my bedside table.

There's nothing like the Christmas vacation to make me catch-up on my reading list.

Some I started almost a year ago, some just yesterday. Nonetheless, here are the books that I have been reveling in lately. In random order..

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

- This is probably the oldest one in my reading list. I started reading it in 2008 and up to now I still haven't finished it! Shame, really. It's just that every time I feel like reading it, I don't have it with me. It's the classic story of an older man falling for a pre-adolescent girl's nymph-like charms. It might be borderline amusing and disgusting for some but I find it a very interesting read.

Status: In Progress

Unmasqued by Colette Gale

- A very erotic and sensual re-telling of The Phantom of the Opera, my favorite musical. My Phantom phase was reawakened after we watched it on stage in Las Vegas, so when I saw this book I just had to buy it. To say that it has a different take on the story would be an understatement -- it's filled with intimacy and sexuality to the brim. It would certainly make you think twice about what happens behind those curtains and back drops in theaters.

Status: Finished

Othello by William Shakespeare

- Okay so this is for my Shakespeare class (Eng23) really, not so much for leisure. But I actually enjoyed reading not only this but all the other plays we have discussed so far. Once you get past the intimidating Elizabethan language -- and trust me, you will -- it's going to be hard pulling yourself away from it. It's remarkable how Shakespeare's description of human nature is still very much pertinent today.

Status: Finished

I Will Always Love You by Cecily Von Ziegesar

- Allow me to indulge in my guiltiest chick-lit pleasure. Yes, behind that very popular television show was the book series that sparked the raging of my adolescent hormones and fueled my love for New York City. And before anyone asks again, yes I do love the books more than the show. (I've only seen the first season of the show by the way.) Anyway, after the main characters graduated from high school the author decided to start a "new season" and focused on the new set of characters taking their places. I was very dismayed, but I figured it would be pushing the envelope to extend it until their college years. So imagine my surprise when I found out that they were coming back for one last time. This book was a compilation of all the four years after high school, with the New Year's Day celebrations as the focal point. While reading it, I had that sense of familiarity, that eerie feeling of "suddenly everything has changed, but then again, they haven't." They're all grown up however they're still the same old people we've come to know. It was a great ending for me, how loose strings were finally tied and broken fences mended. I'm going to miss this series, really.

Status: Finished

Persuasion by Jane Austen

- This is Austen's last completed novel which showcases her more mature approach to writing and also life. It deals with the reality and consequences brought upon by social classes and familial loyalty, and how it interferes with our personal relationships. And yes, in a nutshell it's about first love -- does it really go away? The age old question that would most probably get a very clever, if not blunt answer by Austen.

Status: In Progress

Summer by Edith Wharton

- I've always been wanting to read this but never really got around to buying it until last week. It's a story about a young girl's sexual awakening, her journey as she deals with self-discovery and understanding. It's one of those very controversial novels back when it was published in 1907 but is now considered a classic in American literature today.

Status: In Progress

The Proxy Eros by Mookie Katigbak

- I'm always more than happy when I receive a book as a present. This one was a gift to me by one of my friends, someone who certainly knows me well enough to give me this. It's a collection of poems on love, sensuality, and desire. I have only started appreciating poetry well after my CW100 class last semester, and I am certain this book would keep me up all night.

Status: In Progress

I can't believe I have gone several months without picking up a good book unrelated to school, but I don't care how long it's been -- I just want to drown myself in them all day (and all night) long and compensate for lost time. I guess this is how make-up sex feels like? Because not like I would know :))

Okay, I'm going back to bed. To read.

Merry Krismas with a K!

Let your hearts be light!

It's the most wonderful time of the year! :)

Happy Holidays, friends ♥

There is a light that never goes out.

Thank you very much, The Smiths.

It's during sleepless nights like this when I have the strongest desire to drive away to some place and just escape. I want to explore the night, turn up the speakers, take in the city lights, soak myself in the culture. I want to leave with no direction in mind, run away with no plans, go out with uncertainty. I want to be someplace else where I can lurk in the dark, with no one knowing who I am, where I can be someone else other than myself.

I want to read poetry in a dimly lit cafe; to make tangible the words I've written in my journal during my most vulnerable moments. Would they make more sense said out loud, when other ears finally take a hold of them? Or would they shatter into pieces and lose their very essence? I would throw my words to the universe and pray that they come back to me one day after everything else has fallen into their places.

I want to vandalize on walls along main avenues, painting out song lyrics that speak so much about the things we can't normally say. It'd exhilarating, writing them out for all the world to see, and it'd be thrilling, the possibility of getting caught. There would be a curious excitement in me, wondering if there is anyone out there who relates to the song the same way I do.

I want to sit in one corner of a bar with a lively underground band playing songs with mundane words about life and love. I would desperately try to figure them out as I ask the bartender for my third martini. I would then walk upstage voluntarily when they ask if anyone wants to sing along to their cover of The Cure's Pictures of You, only to position myself on the piano and completely upstaging the band.

I want to dance on stage and be a ballerina again. On my toes I'd be doing pirouettes in Swan Lake, swaying gracefully to the music of Tschaikovsky. With only my body as my instrument of interaction, I would weep as Odette with no tears, I would enrage as Odile with no screams. The curtains would rise and fall and in every scene I would be a different persona, traipsing from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other.

I want to feel sand in between my toes as I walk along the shores of the beach. The moon would shine its glow on me, calling me out onto the sea as if I was her daughter. I would dip my feet into the water, resisting the urge to jump in at first but only to find myself giving in to the call of the waves. It would be dark and mysterious but the allure of the unknown would entice me and I would find myself calmed in the ocean.

I want to be somewhere else other than here, to be someone else other than this Karla Bernardo. It's not exactly because my life sucks or anything. In fact, nothing's really wrong. It's just that sometimes it can be very exhausting being myself. I know it's weird but sometimes I can't help but feel that everything is just a front, that this whole sociable, friendly, excited girl is just a consequence of what is expected of me. Tucked deep inside me is a loner, a cynic, a rebel that cries out for her emancipation. I like being who I normally am, but I also want to be out of character at times, with no questions asked, just because.

I just want to escape the monotony for a while.

//

But no, I'm not emo. I'm just sleep-deprived, I guess. Thankfully, not that cash-deprived though. I will be claiming my GSIS check on Tuesday. Hello, financial assistance! Which is why I bought a Christmas gift for myself today. Nothing says Merry Christmas like a new pair of shoes :)


Btw, your questions have been answered. Finally, haha! :)

Que sera, sera.

Whatever will be, will be.

:)

//

The last two days of school, woooh! Technically I have no classes already until Friday but because it's Eng'g week, then tomorrow would be the Lantern Parade, so of course I'm staying in QC until all the festivities are over. There are so many things going on in school right now, of course I wouldn't want to miss it. Party time, anyone?

Note-to-self: Buy batteries for camera. And actually use the camera. It's already in your freakin' bag, Karla. :)))

Christmas break, you are thissssclose, I can't wait to bask myself in your glory already!

No doubt about it?

So I'm in our newly airconditioned living room, supposedly finishing a paper for my Philosophy class, but blogging while listening to Chris Martin's melancholy vocals in the Coldplay's version of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." I feel like I'm almost in an ending montage of scenes in a sad Christmas episode of an American TV drama show. Haha.

I feel like sharing another epic quote from last week.

In Philosophy class, we're currently on Rene Descartes' Meditations, or simply put, on the famous I think therefore I am statement. We were discussing the sytem of thought he used to come up with this conclusion, which was to adapt the way of the skeptics. Thus, leading us to his method of doubt.

"Unless you are absolutely certain that a thing is true, you must doubt it."

My first reaction was, "Darn, this could have saved me a lot of heartache if only this came along sooner!" Of course, it's a natural human tendency to try and overanalyze, then put meaning in everything, even if we're not completely sure about it. It's actually a coherent argument: if there is any possibility for something to be false, then doubt it. That way, you won't be deceived. Right?

Then again, would one really want to doubt everything? Is it wise to be suspicious and careful rather than be open and vulnerable?

With what has happened to me during the first semester, this quote makes perfect sense. I should learn my lesson. Maybe I should try being cynical next time because at least only one of two things will happen: either things will go wrong as expected, or things will turn out right and I'd be pleased. It's as if Descartes is preaching me that next time, I shouldn't be letting my guard down that easily because it makes me susceptible to hurt. He's right, I guess. But only up to a point.

Because I'm really not the type of person who can't grant anyone the benefit of the doubt. I wouldn't want to be skeptical about everything and everyone. I don't think it's very practical to be highly dubious all the time. It's so suffocating to always be worrying over things that can just be, anyway. Something about the unknown possibilities makes me always hopeful and optimistic about things. Maybe it's just how I am. I can be skeptical but not all the way.

What do you think?


//


Thirteen days to go. It's that time of the year. Are you feeling it?

There she goes.

They say looking good is the best revenge.

Haven't had it this short since Grade 6! How's that for change? So I was kinda depressed. I was so frustrated, something just had to go. It was a spur of the moment decision, but hey, I'm not regretting it. After all, the best revenge is looking good. So, did I win the battle? :))

It's funny though, when I look at the mirror, I still don't recognize myself. This will take several more days of getting used to. So far, I've been told I look like 1) a 15-year-old, 2) my mom, 3) Brooke Davis from Season 5 and 6. As for me, I just want to not look like the usual Karla this time.

Went back to the dorm today for my 3-hour break. I was planning on either sleeping or watching TV but ended up just reading for my CL111 class later at 2:30 and reviewing a bit for my CL121 exam on Friday. But I feel really bored and lazy today for some reason. It's a little bit more difficult to wake up in the morning and to stay awake in class. Is it because the chilly weather is starting to creep in already? Well, I'm not complaining. I love December weather! And if anything, I have an excuse to use my favorite hoodies :)

Engg Week and Lantern Parade next week! Can't wait.

Okay, off to my CL111 class. Later.

Excess baggage.

It's never easy to let go of not only things we cherish but also of things we are used to. We find comfort in the familiarity, and we feel secure in things we have been accustomed to. There's nothing wrong with hanging on to what we are already sure of, what we are okay with -- after all, that's human nature.

But sometimes, it is also refreshing to leave behind emotional baggage that we may feel at home with but are weighing us down. Sometimes, it is important to learn how to release them and chop them off our lives as a way of opening new doors and starting new chapters.


Yes folks, I cut off my hair. The hair I cared for and loved for more than a year. I cut off my waist-length hair because it was dragging me down, literally and figuratively. It reminded me too much of all the unnecessary turmoil that 2009 has caused me. It was difficult -- I think I felt a small shriek from deep inside me when the first few inches were chopped off. But after that was also a sigh of relief. It was like removing all my insecurities, disappointments and frustrations. Because now was the time to let it all go. Finally.

I now look like a 15-year-old again. Yehey?

Epic quotes of the week.

Oh, the little things one can get from being attentive in class!

From CL 111:

"Society has a way of pretending that everything is okay."

-- Butch Dalisay, our professor

From CL 121:

"It's not enough for poems to be pretty; they must have charm and they must take the heart of the hearer wheresoever they will."

-- from Epistle to the Pisones by Horace

"Just like girls."

-- our professor referring to the quote above.

From Philo 1:

"Once you have a purpose in life, no amount of suffering can kill you."

-- from Man's Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl

From CL 184:

"I am the eternal tension between your legs
and the song that makes you like it."

-- The Gaze by Arvin Abejo Mangohig (from Ladlad 3)

"Ang lahat ng nasa dilim, may sinusugal."

-- J. Neil C. Garcia, our professor

From Eng 23:

"My blood is mingled with the crime of lust."

-- Adriana from The Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare

Lesson learned: Taking down notes and trying to catch interesting quotes is quite an effective way to stay awake :P

Of improbable possibilities.

My Literary Criticism class is admittedly one of my most difficult classes, partly because of my readings (our book weighs about a kilo or something like that) but mostly because I have a hard time hearing our very, very soft-spoken professor so it really takes herculean effort to be attentive in his 8:30 am class. But the funny thing is, just when I'm about to fall asleep, something interesting like this jolts me up and suddenly I'm all ears.

"With the respect of the requirements of art, a probable impossibility is to be preferred to an improbable possibility."

-- from The Poetics by Aristotle

The moment he dropped this line and wrote it on the board was precious. I knew I read it but I just didn't grasp its whole meaning until this morning. Probable impossibilities. Improbable possibilities. You ask: what the hell are these messed up paradoxes? And is there even a difference?

I'm actually quite befuddled too but I shall (try to) explain by giving illustrations. It's actually quite difficult to differentiate them but I hope the examples give you a clearer picture of the two:

A probable impossibility is something likely to happen but cannot be true or accomplished. Like man reaching Pluto. An improbable possibility meanwhile is unlikely to happen but is capable of occurring. Like winning the lottery.

(See, it is VERY confusing.)

The whole period, I was just pondering on this. What is more preferable? Was Aristotle correct with his conclusion? I wanted to have a clear-cut distinction and be able to compare what the better situation is between the two. The problem was this wasn't the main topic of The Poetics so it was only a matter of minutes before our professor moved on to other more important details like the explanation of plot and the comparison of epic and tragic poetry. I couldn't not listen to him otherwise I'd get lost. So I scribbled it on my notebook and told myself I shall worry about it later.

And now, here we are in the "later." I'm still not over it. I just can't stop trying to figure it out.

Both in some ways have a chance of happening, but in different degrees. One is more likely to occur than the other. With the first argument, it just sounds doable in theory. It's like knowing how a car works, but not being able to actually drive it. On the other hand, you have the odds up against you in the second scenario. But it can come true. Like searching for a needle in the haystack. It's a tedious task, but it's there somewhere -- you can find it. So from what I can understand, I have to disagree with Aristotle and say that an improbable possibility is more acceptable.

Well then again, perhaps I got it all wrong. After all, Aristotle was talking about the requirements of art, not life. What about in reality? What is more desirable? Or the better question may be, which one is better to hold onto: an unattainable event, or an unreasonable one?

Jeez, I just got even more frustrated. A bigger (and quite unwelcome but inevitable) thought popped in my head: Is [insert name] a probable impossibility or an improbable possibility? I hate it how I can't put a label on him -- he's not a friend, he's not a lover. And now this. What is he then?!

Partially defeated, I looked at my notebook again. I couldn't help noticing:

Impossible. ImPossible. I'm Possible.

Improbable. ImProbable. I'm Probable.

Whatever the real explanation of these two ideas may be, they're just both banking on the likelihood of something transpiring. Occurring. And at the end of the day, it doesn't matter how plausible it is for something to take place. Maybe it doesn't have to all come down to chance. At some point, it's up to us to make it, not the statistics. So what if we get there seamlessly or beat the odds? Just as long as it does happen.

Right?

All the time.

The Saltwater Room - Owl City

What will it take to make or break this hint of love?
We need time, only time

So tell me darling do you wish we'd fall in love?
All the time, all the time

Just like that, this song made me feel much better. There is just really something about Owl City that instantly lifts up your spirits. Like it triggers a swoon button and makes you giddy and gushing like a maniac. Listen to this one, or any Owl City song for that matter, and see (hear?) for yourselves. Anyone who doesn't get that warm fuzzy feeling afterwards is made of stone.

"Sometimes things find you when you need them to find you, I believe that. And for me, it's usually song lyrics." Peyton Sawyer couldn't have said it any better. Amen.

//

Yet another week lies ahead of me. I've got a massive headache plus really bad colds, which leaves me with a paper left unfinished. I feel so tired despite having slept the whole afternoon. What is happening to me, it's only the third week of class! Of course, I'm blaming this on the unfortunately necessary academic stress, and the fortunately unnecessary emotional turmoil. Jeez, they are so frustrating, they're taking a toll on me physically too.

But no excuses. Second MIT session tomorrow! I hope that boosts enough endorphins to keep me going this week. I need an extra shirt. And Extra Joss? Haha.

On repeat mode.

Kill - Jimmy Eat World

Sorry, but I can't just go turn off how I feel
You kill me, you build me up, but just to watch me break

I know what I should do
but I just can't walk away


And once again, only a song can speak what my words cannot.

Surprise!

There are only two ways to classify a surprise: a good or a bad one. It's either it makes you feel better, or dampens your spirits. Either it encourages you, or leaves you hopeless. Either it gives you confirmation, or confuses the hell out of you. Either you like it, or you don't.

This week has been so far a week of little revelations that aren't necessarily life-changing, but surprises nonetheless. I guess I think they are worthy enough to be blogged about anyway. Are they good or bad?

1. I've been such a nerd lately. I sweeear the amount of readings I have after just a week and a half of school is beyond crazy. But the funny thing is, instead of procrastinating and refusing to even look at it, I am actually feeling compelled to go home early and just READ. I swear to God, I was just studying and reading all week long. All my subjects have heavy readings: For CL121, I have this unbelievably thick photocopied book on literary criticisms. For Eng23, I have dozens of Shakespearean plays to worry about (and memorize because it's a freakin' drama class). For CL111 & CL184, I have short stories and poems to worry about. It's a never-ending READING process. But yeah, it surprises me how motivated I am to work lately. Sure I feel like I'm dragging myself to do this, but at least the will power is there.


2. I "signed-up" for the Mark Aranas Intense Training program. Our barkada has always been meaning to do this together (of course we have other things to do other than Rockband! Haha.) and now that the timing is right, I can't believe it pushed through. What shocks me more though was that I willingly joined! I am the last person on earth who would want to jog, run, walk or even do any exercise whatsoever. But with a little peer pressure, and a huge determination to have great legs, I gave in. This afternoon was no easy task. The MIT program was indeed, INTENSE. Mark was unforgiving! Jogging twice around the Academic Oval, plus endurance training that involved lunges and push-ups. Hahaha. But I need that, actually. More than the desire for a sexy body (which is what motivates me!), I want to do this to prove something to myself. I need to defy my limits!


3. I just found out something about a very good friend of mine. I was actually expecting it, but I just didn't think it would happen this soon. Of course I have nothing against it, and I am very happy for him. In fact, I am actually relieved. But my reaction to the discovery spoke more about myself than it did about our friendship -- that it really was better off that we ended things the way we did. Because we just couldn't be something we hoped we would be.


4. I am finally starting to warm up to a friend again with whom I had quite of a falling out a few weeks back. It wasn't like before but at least it's a start. I'm shocked that I'm letting myself put my guard down a bit even after what happened, but I realized I can't hide from her forever. She is still after all a friend. And despite the circumstances, at least I still want to be a good friend to her.


5. The more I suppress something, the more it consumes me. Yes, I admit it, there are just some feelings I can't escape or deny, no matter how much I want to.

The thing with surprises is it all depends on how you look at it. Whether it enthuses you or ruins your day is your call. Are these good or bad surprises? Well, I can't say for sure just yet but they are welcome surprises. If anything, at least they are signs that I'm growing up, and finally going beyond what is expected of me. And who wouldn't want that?

What surprised you lately?

The Stories We Tell.

Our CL111 prof, Sir Butch, asked us a very important question the other day in class:

"Why do we tell stories?"

Why are we compelled to write about them, why is there a need to share them, why do we feel like revealing a part of ourselves?

I've always been a storyteller. My friends can attest to that. I never really think much about it, it's just something that I do. I like sharing little random events that happen to me throughout the day, like when I saw a rainbow as I was riding the MRT on my way home, or how I just finished a whole bar of mazapan. It's something so normal, so natural to me that when the question was presented to us, I couldn't find an answer.

Why do I tell my stories? It's not as if it's everyone's business.

I didn't know really. It just happens. So I was stumped. For the next 30 seconds, I was scribbling on my all-purpose doodle notebook asking myself the same question over and over. It's an expected question given that it was a class on the Short Story, but I never really thought of it before.

And then Sir Butch said something.

"Because it is in sharing these stories that we make sense of them."

Everyday is a surprise for me. Sometimes things don't happen the way I thought they would, sometimes people don't turn out to be who I thought they were. And with every new discovery I can only grasp so much about what is happening. I believe that everything happens for a reason, but of course I won't always know what that reason is. That oblivion is often frustrating. Maybe I don't always question it out loud, but at the back of my mind, I know a part of me is wondering. And maybe by telling the stories, by sharing them, I am unconsciously trying to figure it out. Maybe there is a part of me that wants to step outside myself and look at what is happening to me from another point of view, and I can only do that by articulating it. Or writing it down.

So, I'm wondering: even after the countless stories I've shared about someone, why isn't it still making perfect sense?


Is it because there are more stories to be told?

It's Friday..

..well, we all know what The Cure sang about that.

To hell with the 13th. Today was nice.

---

I'm only four days into the semester and already I'm loaded with so many readings for my majors and electives. CL 121, 111, 184 an Eng23. Now I know why we're doomed to be starving artists -- because all our money go to our required readings and books. I swear to God my first week allowance all went to that! :)) Well, I'm not complaining (yet) because so far I'm actually enjoying my classes. Most of my professors are really cool and awesome (although they are actually quite old), and I'm very very interested with all our topics so far. To tell you honestly, for the first time in such a long time, I feel like I'm studying and reading all these because I want to, not because I'm obliged to.

But then again, it's just the first week.

Let's see a couple of days from now, haha.

---

Coincidences. Again I can't help but wonder if everything falls under a great scheme of things and that I am a mere pawn in some higher being's chess game. The uncertainty is often frustrating. Sure, there are signs, but more often than not they confuse rather than confirm. Are these sudden accidental fortuities telling me something I already know or something I don't want to hear? It's difficult to not disintegrate every little bit of detail when practically the whole world around you is scrutinizing everything for you.

But perhaps it is only when we learn to let go, when we stop over-thinking, when we actually let things be, that we realize -- things will fall into place eventually. I may have no idea what I'm doing, I may be unsure of what's to come. But I'd like to believe one day it's going to make sense. And whether I like how the end turns out or not, whether this is more of a mistake rather than a certainty, I'd rather go through this than run away. Because I know, I know, this is far from over.

---

The thing about Darcy.

One thing I've been so grateful for about the sembreak is having so much time in my hands doing the one thing I love most: reading. It saddens me how I've lost the tenacity to read whatever novel kicks my fancy come school time because as cliche as this may sound, I just really don't have the time. It's painful to see half-read novels on my bedside table when I'm holding inch-thick readings for my subjects. And so as the semester broke (harhar) I promised myself I would do some catching up.

Trust me, the lazy mornings (and afternoons and evenings and late nights) spent on leisure readings are precious.

Guess who's the boy that's been keeping me up all night? It's Fitzwilliam freakin' Darcy.

A friend gave me the deluxe limited edition print of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, with a beautiful cover done by Ruben Toledo. A random fact about me: I do judge books by their cover. The moment I saw this one on the racks, I knew I just had to have it. Thank goodness for friends who see right through me.

I've read the book before, and to say that I loved it would be an understatement. It was the novel that started my love affair with Jane Austen. It had the perfect mix of gutsiness and candor -- something rare in even modern-day novels. I guess it was the first "classic" novel I read, the one that opened the doors for all the other timeless novels out there. I loved its sarcasm and wit, I liked the unpredictability and charm. It was a special book, it meant a lot of things at a certain time in my life. Reading it again would be a delight.

But of course, what Pride & Prejudice journey would be complete without everyone's favorite (anti) hero Mr. Darcy? He was the biggest enigma in the novel -- was he the knight in shining armor, or the evil villain? His arrogance was annoying, his sharpness was maddening. And yet, millions of girls over the centuries continue to fall madly in love with him. Elizabeth Bennett, and myself included.

I can't help but wonder, if Mr. Darcy was placed in the 21st century, would he be as charmingly maddening as he is?

Reading the novel for the second time felt like seeing the story with a new set of eyes. The plot is the same, but somehow the entire novel hit me in completely different places. It's true what they say that a book never stays the same. It will always change, because the reader changes. The experience of reading a novel depends largely on the person reading it -- how much she knows, where she's been, who she's with.

I can imagine Mr. Darcy being this filthy rich private-school bred boy with a nice, shiny silver Camry. We would be classmates in Gender & Sexuality class, and when asked about chivalry, I would say that a number of good ol' gentlemen still exist in society. Our professor would ask if I appreciate chivalrous deeds and of course I would agree, saying that it is comforting to know that respect for women is still deemed noble. Mr. Darcy would butt in and say chivalrous acts like these defeat feminism. The professor would prod for details, and he would go on and say that if women and men are equal then men do not need to give special treatment to the ladies, like giving up their seats in buses or MRTs. I would rebut him by stating that feminism is goes beyond what he is trying to say but then professor signals that our class is over and that we would resume next meeting. Mr. Darcy would look at me quite arrogantly, quite satisfied that he has stumped me and would leave the room. I'd fix my things and hurriedly storm out for my next class, only to find him still outside giving me a coy smile before walking away.

Okay, maybe I am over-thinking this. But my point is, reading the novel again made me wonder how much has changed since the last time I read it. Before, Fitzwilliam Darcy just annoyed me, period. Well, he is such a perplexity, and I guess he always will be, but now he became more three-dimensional. Perhaps it's because I've met people who are just as puzzling as he is. There are people who will get on your nerves but unconsciously win you over. And Elizabeth is no longer just a protagonist to me -- she is a character I can be, because I now understand her frustration over this boy that keeps ticking her off.

But perhaps it is precisely this vexation that keeps this novel transcend the test of time. It's a universal feeling, driving yourself weary over something. The biases and first impressions will always have a huge impact on the way we deal with people. This is human nature. I guess it's safe to say that this novel will keep hitting us in the right places -- just more painful and truthful as time goes by.

Now that I think about it, modern-day Darcy might peeve me just as much as he did Elizabeth in the 19th century. I'm going to want to break him down so badly and trip over everything he say (Yeyy, Rockband allusion) but I have a feeling he will just as easily win me over, too. Just because.

---

Enrollment starts tomorrow. Oh God.

Legally pink!

Guess who the birthday girl came as? :P

You are all awesome, friends :)
I love you!

These mem'ries will recall.

Yesterday I went back to St. Paul and claimed my high school yearbook.

The Paulinian 08

(That's our feet right there!)

To say that it was nostalgic would be an understatement. As I stepped on the grounds of what used to be my home, everything just came rushing back in. The Paulinians were having their Intrams practices for next week yesterday, so the place was filled with people, drum beats, and human pyramids. So many things have changed, and yet I felt like nothing has. Suddenly, I could imagine Trixie calling me to announce something over the PA, or Hope shouting my name in excitement, or Nica tugging my skirt back to the room -- it was high school all over again. I felt naked walking through the campus with my civilian clothes on.

It's been almost two years.

But it was home.

One touching moment was bumping into batchmates upon arriving at the Business Office to claim my yearbook. We weren't close, and we weren't classmates, but somehow, we stood there together along the counter, carefully flipping through the pages and all together saying, "Awwwww. Nakaka-miss." It was moving how reminiscing brought us somewhat together in those first few moments of glancing at the book. It sounds cheesy looking back on it now -- but God, the goosebumps were undeniable. It was like opening a window to the past.

It was a bittersweet experience, drowning myself in wistfulness. I really, really miss the Seni08rs. I was laughing as I read the descriptions I wrote for my friends and for our class (St. Jane), well mostly because of the typos, but also because I could remember writing them on a 1/2 crosswise before recess and asking for Cream-Os as payment. And it surprised me how spot-on the words still are even if it's been more than a year later. I also suddenly remembered the night I wrote the Letter from the Editors, how it somehow felt obligatory, but oh how it rang so true now.

I cannot write a post about the yearbook without congratulating our EIC, Catherine Pascual. We really couldn't have finished this if it weren't for you. I'm so proud to be part of the yearbook staff because you were our leader :)

My St. Paul days may be long gone, but the Paulinian spirit lives on.

Hark, daughter of the great St. Paul! :)

---

Off to party! Sinong magbbirthday na? :)

Hell hath no fury...

It's funny how for the last few weeks, something inside me has been wanting to get angry. It's weird, I know, but lately I've been finding solace in angsty rock songs. It's like I've been meaning to get mad at someone. I suppose it's because I never really do. Sure I have petty fights with my parents, or little arguments with friends, or the eventual disdain over a professor, but other than that I rarely get fuming mad. So maybe it's my body's way of reminding me that, "Hey girl, you need a healthy dose of rage too."

Enter 30 Seconds To Mars. Do you know how relieving it is to scream out The Kill with much conviction? Bury me, bury me, I am finished with yoooooou. Yes, I have my emo-screamo moments too, only they are fueled by songs and not by any real emotions.

But Jared Leto isn't really the point here.

So last night was quite eventful. In a nutshell, I found out about some things that 1) shocked me, 2) appalled me, and 3) hurt me. Of course I wouldn't go into all the gory details here (because I'm classy like that, haha) but let's just say it actually gave me more than enough reason to throw around chairs and break windows. Yes, it was that bad.

There, so I got what I wanted. I had every reason last night to finally fulfill my unexplainable, unfulfilled need to be infuriated, but what happened?

I popped the earphones and listened to 30 Seconds to Mars.

This time, they consoled me, instead of igniting the fury. It felt so lethargic.

I'm still quite surprised at myself, really. I swear in my mind last night was a string of expletives (in English, Filipino, and Italian -- yes, I'm snooty.) but I didn't utter a word. I never felt the urge to dial someone up and yell at them. Okay, so I cried a few tears, but I never really wreaked such a havoc. I was just.. quiet.

In CW100 class, every plot line must have a turning point. As you get deeper into the climax, something unexpected will flip things around. Something should shake things up. It need not be dramatic, just a word, an event, a moment where suddenly everything will change. And suddenly, nothing is the same anymore. This makes your character more three-dimensional, more realistic.

I think we need our turning points in real life, too. I guess it is during these little, silent moments that we begin to see who we are outside our everyday default settings. It is when we are triggered to an emotion so much more overwhelming than what we are used to that we see how capable we are at handling emotional turmoil. And it is only when we rise to the occasion that we realize how far we've come, how much better we are than what we thought we'd be, how much we've grown.

I needed something to get me mad, probably because that feeling has been dormant for quite some time now. But I also wanted a sign before I turn 18 that I'm doing things right, that I'm on the right track. I don't think last night was as melodramatic as your everyday soap opera (Though I had to admit, it did feel a little bit OTH-ish to me. And no, not in a Nathan-Haley kind of way) but it was intense for me nonetheless. But I got a hold of myself. And now looking back, I realized that I'm still a pretty decent human being after all.

So what am I going to do now?

I still don't know really. Suddenly, that's a few persons off the list of people I trust. But this is how life is. There are people who will hurt you, people who will take advantage of you. The challenge is to get past it and learn. We all know this, but maybe every now and then it just needs some reinforcing. But I'm going to get over this soon, I know it. I won't let this ruin my upcoming birthday. If anything, I see it as a blessing in disguise. At least, that's one shady secret out in the open -- now, it won't hurt me anymore.

As 30STM puts it in A Modern Myth, "The secret is out." Then Jared sings goodbye, seventeen times. What an epic ending that is.

And so, that's how this will end too. Goodbye.

----

Geeeez, I sound so mature. Are the raging teenage hormones dying already? :))

Pre-birthday anxiety.

In exactly a week, I would be turning 18. Legal. A huge milestone. But I'm not feeling the birthday spirit at all. Well, at least not yet.

I'm blaming acads. Trust school work to kill even my always-enthusiastic birthday disposition with such gusto. I can't even begin to wax philosophical on how life-changing turning 18 would be because of all the stress. I feel like I'm supposed to be blogging about how excited about growing older, how nostalgic I am about the past, how different everything is -- you know, the usual.

But no, no, no. I am far too busy to ponder about that.

Matapos ka na kasi, sem.

Please? :)

Oops.

Some things just never stop frustrating you. Like acads. Or boys.

Dearest Sembreak,

What's taking you so long? How much longer do I have to wait?


About a week to go for me. My classes end on Wednesday but there are still deadlines for final manuscripts and projects, plus one more exam to go. I know my remaining schedule is quite light as compared to others because I'm done with my finals, but this doesn't make me any less stressed. And once again, anxiety is creeping up to me.

Add the fact that I have colds, and my head hurts because I overslept this afternoon/evening.

On the brighter side of things, our Italian11 prof already emailed our grades to us this evening and I am very, very pleased :) Sono molto felice con la mia classe italiana perche giustifica il RockBand! :)) Well, at least that's one thing that paid off already.


Please come soon. I need you. I want you.

Think happy thoughts.

After a week of pseudo-sem break, we're back to school.

I wonder if stress can be physically tangible. Because upon stepping on UP ground this morning, I felt the collective anxiety filling up the atmosphere. Everyone looked tired, probably from all the readings they have to catch up on. The place we always sit on was filled with disgruntled, worried noises, all worrying about exams or projects. And if you breathe deep enough, I swear, you could probably smell the tension around you. Stress. Ahhhh. Hello, hell week.

Our last day has been moved to the 13th.

The thought that this coming Thursday should have been the last day still frustrates me to pieces. Setting aside the trauma that last week had caused due to the typhoons, for a student, the delay is more exasperating than helpful, because most of our assignments couldn't have been accomplished at home. Meetings that could have been finished, projects that could have been done, examinations that could have been taken -- argh. But all the complaining in the world won't make them go away.

So I guess I just have to close my eyes, think positive thoughts and get myself through this week. Just one more week, Karla. One more week. Then.. fuhreeeedoooom!

Speaking of happy thoughts..

This is why we're addicted.

How you look like while playing Rock Band.

How you feel like while playing Rock Band.

I will use RockBand to motivate me. Study hard, rock hardeeeer! \m/

The aftermath.

What a devastating weekend it has been.

I wouldn't even try and elaborate how badly we were hit by typhoon Ondoy because the effects are so obvious. It came at an unexpected time, and the results are completely distressing especially because it hit so close to home, literally. It's not just something we saw on TV, it really happened to us, our families, our friends.

I was stuck at the dorm Friday evening because my Saturday classes weren't suspended until late that night. So the whole Saturday, I was just inside my room, with my phone, iPod, and laptop charging. I was anticipating the blackout. I couldn't leave because in front of our room, it was already starting to flood and our kitchen had started getting wet. I just decided to finish my due papers while waiting for the rains to stop. (Un)fortunately it didn't, but thankfully I managed to finish three papers! That's the only bright side to all this I guess. I had no choice but to stay in and just write, so yes, I was able to do two reaction papers and one short story.

I spent the night with Trixie, my friend, at the third floor. When we went out for dinner at the store just beside our dorm, we saw the whole Katipunan strip was dark and flooded. Apparently, we were the only ones (I think) whose electricity didn't get cut. Thank God for that. I am really thankful that I had Trixie with me that night, otherwise I would've gone crazy since the Globe signal was already starting to fail me and I had no way out. I started frantically texting my friends, asking them how they were especially the ones in Cainta, Rizal, and Marikina. That night we watched the news and saw how terrible the situation was in the nearby areas.

I commuted home to Paranaque the next day and thankfully arrived home.

I feel lucky that we weren't as distraught here in Paranaque, but a part of me also feels guilty that most people out there are suffering while I was just here at home playing Wii and watching TV. So yesterday, I went to UP with some of my friends to help out with the relief operations led by the University Student Council. We helped out in the packing at first, and eventually were deployed to Old Balara a few minutes outside UP. Thankfully their area wasn't as devastated because the flood has already subsided, but they were still in dire need of food and clothes nonetheless. It was actually quite nostalgic for me, it made me remember our Community Extension Service subject way back in fourth year high school. There really is no greater feeling than knowing you have helped someone in any way possible.

The only thing we can do right now is really try to help. I hope everyone else goes out there and extend their helping hand to those who were greatly affected by Ondoy. Please, if there are relief operations around your area, do your part and reach out. :) Even the smallest contributions matter.

//

I had to leave the relief operations early yesterday though for my scheduled anti-cervical cancer vaccine at my mom's office in Makati. I was actually quite nervous because I've been hearing that it's really quite painful because the medicine was viscous. But I'm used to getting shots anyway, so what the hell.

Now my arm still hurts. *tear*

//

Three of my friends went here last Monday for RockBand. Hindi talaga papatinag sa bagyo :))

//

My v3x finally gave up on me last Tuesday :(((

//

OCTOBER NA :O

Taking back Wednesday.

You are everything I want,

'coz you are everything I'm not.

And we lay, we lay together

just not too close, too close

How close is close enough?

I just want to break you down so badly

I trip over everything you say.

I'm gonna make damn sure

You won't ever get too far from me.

This is the anthem of a confused admirer (?)

And an addicted Rockband player (!!!)

I know, I know. We suck. Rockband kahapon at kanina. We just couldn't resist it. :)) But hey, at least there are musical and emotional nourishments. I did drums AND vocals at the same time for Dashboard's Hands Down, and I was the top performer! \m/ Fulfillment! Haha. It's just sooo addictive. Darn, we have such a high-maintenance hobby. CrEngg, I think we should be serious about the "RB fund." Somebody bring a can and collect. Haha, LOL.

I can't wait for the semester to end. I am feeling absolutely stressed, I can almost feel premature wrinkles forming and pores clogging on my forehead. Ahhh stress. Stress motivates me to work harder but also makes me want to procrastinate. Oh, it's a vicious, never-ending cycle. I just hope I come out of this sem alive.

Thank goodness for Rockband. Keeps me sane.

Or not.

In PanPil17 class this morning, I think I was seeing the colored notes scrolling along the tiles while I was staring at the floor. My foot suddenly started tapping and my hands suddenly did air-drumming. Oh no.

Roooockbaaaand!

"Risin' up, straight to the top

Have the guts, got the glory

Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop

Just a man and his will to surviiiiive.."

CrEngg and I are having some serious Rockband withdrawal issues.

For the last few weeks, my college barkada and I have been having at least one Rockband session along Katipunan every few weeks or so. I know, I know, it's expensive and irrational but someone almost always comes up with a good enough excuse for us to while away the hours rocking out to 30 Seconds to Mars and other epic rock anthems.

We are good students. Really, we are. We work hard.

But apparently, we rock harder! HAHA.

It's a good thing we're almost 20 in our group which is why splitting the bill is quite easy. However, it still is pretty expensive. Php300/hr -- that's how many lunches we have to give up to finance our newfound vice?

But of course, priorities come a-knockin' and reality eventually sinks in: the sem is about to end and we are students with requirements we have to finish. So, yeah, no more Rockbands for us. At least for now.

Our lunches and afternoon tambays are spent in collective silence/trance -- everyone has their earphones on, and is silently playing air guitars or air drums along with their favorite Rockband song. I even have a Rockband playlist in my iPod now. I SWEAR. We seriously got it bad.

But until the sem officially comes to a close, no Rockband.

And (maybe) no blogging for me.

:(

In true rockstar fashion, I shall end this post with a big, epic finish:

*enter epic guitars and drums*

THE EEYYYEEEEEE OF THE TIGEEEEEEEEERRR!!

Dun! Dun dun dun! Dun dun dun! Dun dun duuuuun!

*start blog hiatus*

Blowing and bursting, coming and going.

It's surprising how things turn out the way they do in the shortest span of time.

Like how a bubble bursts. It's this beautiful, mysterious entity of color and vibrance. They always make you want to look at them, hold them, and figure them out. The swirls and the shades are an invitation; they lure you in.

And just when your finger reaches out, finally gives in and touches it -- it's gone.

There wasn't anything close to the joy of blowing bubbles as a kid. Seeing them magically appear from the wand, chasing after hundreds of them, jumping up and down to pop them, and suddenly finding them all gone -- it was priceless. You never get tired of all the bubbles. You just keep blowing, chasing, popping again and again. It was always such a freeing experience.

But the first time I came really up close with a bubble was one time in first grade while washing my hands. I just discovered this trick of rubbing your hands together hard, then forming a circle with your index finger and thumb. (Yes, it was a new trick for me.) At first, it didn't occur to me that it was a bubble. Bubbles are supposed to be round after all, I thought. But then, suddenly I saw all these colors swooshing around like paint that spilled all over the floor in kindergarten art class. In it was a plethora of different shades all in motion. It was so fascinating. How did this enigma come to be?

And before I knew it, it burst.

The first few seconds were quite a shock. Where was it? Why did it go so suddenly? How did it happen? I was only seven then, with no background on physics and how the water molecules interacted with the soap to create this film and suddenly make it disappear.

Many times in my life I've come across beautiful mysterious bubbles. Sometimes a situation, other times a fact, and sometimes people. They always draw you in but just when you're about to start appreciating their florid intensity, you lose them. Not always physically, but yeah, at some point we just can't really bring them back.

I was washing my hands today after coming home (to the dorm) from school when this thought occured to me. Isn't it sad? I mean, why bother then if everything will be taken away from us anyway? Why touch it when it will eventually pop? Why reach out when it will inevitably disappear?

But then, the thing about bubbles is that it doesn't really matter if it pops. That's how bubbles are -- they come and go. But you can always rub your fingers again; you can always put the wand back in the bottle again and blow. There are always a thousand more bubbles to be made for every one that goes.

I guess life will always be unfair. It will give some and take some. It doesn't always end up the way you want it to. But then again, I never really stopped enjoying blowing bubbles as a kid even if they all pop and burst anyway. All I ever wanted in bubbles were the splash of color and the momentary fascination. That even just for a moment, they enthralled me. And I guess that's all that matters, right?

I put my index finger and my thumb together again. It's been too long. Time to make more bubbles.

A random simile.

It was like hearing the epic opening riff of 23 by Jimmy Eat World for the first time after three months of not playing it on your iPod.

09 09 09.

You know what's frustrating?

It's when in class, you learn about poetry and fiction and all the elements that come along with it: character profiles, tone, setting, space, location, and your professor tells you, "As the writer, you always have the power to manipulate them."

And yet you look out the window and you realize, you are powerless. Because all you can ever get to control are the events on a piece of paper.

Oh hello, Friday.

Inspiration always strikes me in the most ungodly of hours.

Wow, I can feel countless all-nighters ahead of me.

Well, as long as the creative juices keep flowing, I don't care what freakin' time it is, as long as it does. After all, that's what coffee is for.

Good night~

Poetry imitating life imitating poetry.

In Poetry class (2nd part of CW100), our main project is to create a villanelle out of anything that interests us. I'm honestly not much of a poet and I must admit that this type of literature is most probably my waterloo. But of course it's not something I can escape at this point, so somehow I'm getting myself to really appreciate it. We're all natural poets after all, we just need a little more discipline and practice. So I've been thinking about a good topic since the assignment was given. I want to take the assignment seriously, so I want to write about something that interests me.

Since most of us in class are still "beginners" (although high school angsty love poems are considered poetry, haha, but of course we all deny having done that!) we've been discussing the basics: rhythm, sound, tone, form, use of words. And for the past few weeks the thing I've learned essentially is that it's important to keep a strong mental image inside your head and try to capture it. You have to seize everything about it -- the sound, the feel, the look, the taste, the smell -- to be able to make your reader live through it.

There's so much more that goes into a poem that what many of us may think. And as hackneyed as this may sound, it all comes down to detail. It's always the small, little things that count. Because what else is there for the reader to experience other than the words you write?

Is it about a breakup? When did it happen? At what moment, exactly? When she let go of her hand? Where did it happen? Over lunch at McDonald's? Why not KFC? What song was playing? Was it her favorite band? When did he start sipping nervously from his drink? Was the airconditioner turned on? How did the french fries taste after that?

In poetry, everything means something. Because it's all just about that one moment, that one instant that you want to freeze and immortalize. You are the orchestrator of that event; you arrange everything in perfect detail. Everything should match with everything else. And I guess that goes beyond poetry as well -- in movies and TV shows, in songs and novels, in paintings and photographs, everything should all come together in the end.

In life, does everything mean something too?

I was contemplating on what topic to write about on my way back to the dorm. Maybe I should write about the crescendos and decrescendos of everyday life, I thought, since I just came from the College of Music for my weekly piano classes. Or what about nostalgia? Then I can relate it to putting your iPod to repeat mode. Hmm, maybe something related to music.

Then suddenly, the couple across me in the jeepney started kissing and making out with matching tongue and hair-messing action. It was so awkward because there was nowhere else to look -- they were right in front of me! I tried texting my friends to distract myself. I can practically hear everybody shouting, "Get a room!" inside their heads. It was funny because for CW100 class today we were discussing about capturing an "orgasmic" moment. We were talking about the details of the scene -- the position, where it took place (the backseat of a Beetle!!), how it was happening.. basically imagining a sexual scene. And just a few hours later, something close to it unfolded before my eyes. (Though it wasn't sexy at all. It was gross actually.) It was such an unfortunate coincidence to be riding that jeep with them.

But if everything means something..

Does this mean I'm bound to write an erotic villanelle?

Hahaha :))

(from stereowrists)

Taking a break from PanPil17.

I have an exam tomorrow for PanPil17 (Kulturang Popular), and I have been doing a whole of reading since 6pm. It's one of my pretty interesting subjects this semester, especially because 1) We don't really have lectures, more of exchanging of opinions, 2) Our topics are very relevant to our everyday life. We've talked about malls, movies, TV shows, street food -- typical and ordinary stuff we often take for granted but ultimately shape our lives.

Anyway, I was in the middle of reading Rolando Tolentino's "Sa Loob at Labas ng Mall Kong Sawi" and was trying very, very hard to not fall asleep when I came across this:

"Ganito ang paradox ng nostalgia: sa pag-igting ng pagnanasang makabalik, lalo lamang nabubura ang alaala ng pinagmulan."

It took me ten minutes to read and digest anything else after that. It got to me, really. Funny how small, random but timely and relevant things like this find their way into your consciousness when you least expect them.

Okay, back to reading. That definitely woke me up.

Vanilla 2.0

(Read Vanilla 1.0)

I'm getting quite used to the predictability of my everyday life. Everything is such a routine -- from increasingly tedious acads to uneventful social life. I try to make things interesting for myself but it feels as if everything goes back to the same dreary mood at the end of the day. I do the same things over and over. It's so.. boring.

But I guess if it weren't for the monotony, I wouldn't appreciate the little but significant moments that do stand out.

Today was yet another vanilla-turned-sundae day. (Sun-day?)

This time though, it was an entirely different flavor.

And to make things much better.. my ice cream wasn't just figurative anymore! Yes friends, my extremely pleasant day came with a real, actual dessert.

:)

It's fun being cryptic, really. Haha.

On hormones.

I guess it's obvious that one of my most overused phrase is "raging teenage hormones."

It always finds its way into my speech -- as a reason and excuse, or a statement of a fact. Either way, it has been a part of my vocabulary. Raging teenage hormones this, raging teenage hormones that. The surge of these chemicals is like a license to crankiness and indecisiveness, especially for us girls. It can let you get away with anything. Well, for me at least.

It was pheromones that brightened up my morning when I caught a whiff of an increasingly familiar scent. It was serotonin that kept me awake in Geog class despite the pains in my lower abdomen. It was oxytocin that allowed me to open up to a close friend and share to her my secrets and musings. It was a combination of dopamine and adrenaline that made me yearn for my late lunch. It was endorphin that brought satisfaction to me when I gave a very good friend who needed some cheering up presents.

(Okay, Biology majors, feel free to correct me anytime!)

I can blame the hormones for everthing. I can let them do the explaining. They are my reasons, my excuse, my justification. Sure, it may be irrational. But come on -- it's that time of the month! You can't really expect me to be sensible today.

But it wasn't adrenaline, endorphins, or oxytocin that I felt surging through my veins when someone showed up today. Why? Why wasn't there a spine-tingling, heartbeat-racing connection? It's not so much that I still want it there, more like, I'm not used to its absence.

What surprises me is how reasonable my realization was at the end of my day. I'm normally irrational and moody when it's code red. I lose the capacity to connect the dots and put the pieces of the puzzle together. However when I stepped back and looked at the greater picture, I finally proved to myself what I've been wanting to see all along. Everything made sense now.

There was no more spark left -- at all.

And you know what?

I'm glad. And relieved.

Who knew being hormonal can lead to being rational, too?

---

Second long exam on Italian 11, and first exam on Geog 1 on Thursday.

Yeyy for stress caused by acads!

Not.

How do you capture silence?

I guess as an "artist" it's always about the moments we can catch and put into our craft that can define our art. Be it using your canvas and paint, your camera, your dance, your song, your facial expression, your words -- you want to be able to seize the abstract and make it tangible, however difficult that may be.

I've always wondered how it would be like to encapsulate silence. Is it ever possible?

Silence is a vague concept. Is it just the absence of vibrations and sound waves? Is it the calm before the storm, or the rainbow after the rain? What is it really, and why do we keep on pushing it away when we all know how badly we need it?

When you read a random quote sprawled on the jeepney dashboard and you feel a smile spreading on your lips because it reminds you of someone;

When you are watching a huge basketball game and for a split second everyone holds their breath as the star player releases a 3-point-shot attempt with 1.7 seconds on the clock;

When you see your crush walking towards your direction and you start to panic about what to say, then he nods at you and walks past you but all you can think of was how his smile seemed to blur everything else away;

When you listen to a new, undiscovered band's really awesome album and you realize you cannot turn the player off even after the last riff has been played;

When you're inside the classroom taking your crucial midterm exam and you can feel the collective anxiety in everyone who want to pass just as badly as you do;

When your parents start fighting and suddenly one of then stands up from the dinner table and locks inside the room, leaving you to finish your meal uncomfortably;

When you're talking on the phone telling how badly you want things to go back to normal and explaining your side but you don't hear him explaining his;

When you're forced to write something for a paper and you start hating that blinking vertical cursor on your screen that you've been staring at for an hour and a half;


These are what I want to capture -- the small, complex, but powerful silences. The almost unnoticeable and very minute quiet pauses that we often neglect but so evidently piece together the bigger moments that make up our day, our lives. It's like the comma that connects the clauses, the staple wire that holds the sheets of paper, the adhesive that keeps the bandaid from falling. Silence can mean so many things: a yes, a no, a refusal, an acceptance. It can be a powerful weapon, or an unforgivable mistake.

Sometimes I wonder if I can put silence in a little locket and keep it around my neck at all times. When things start getting confusing, I will unlock it and put myself in a little bubble, seemingly pausing everything else around me and grant myself a couple of seconds of much-needed quietude. But only for a few moments because too long a silence would be deafening. After a while I will open my eyes again and feel rejuvenated, like the Mozilla browser after being refreshed.

But can one really encapsulate its meaning without using the commotion of words, the splashes of color, the unruliness of sound? Wouldn't that be contradicting its whole idea?


I'll let the silence answer that for now, I guess.



[I didn't mean to get all philosophical tonight. Just something I've been thinking a lot lately that I needed to let out. Writers have moments like this, perhaps. (Naks, feeling writer na talaga!) I suppose it's the hormones. I've been thinking too much again lately. But then again, don't I always? And am I not entitled to the creative scrutiny of everything there is? I am, after all ,an "artist." Haha. Okay, I'm shutting up.]

Post-hangover analysis.

I don't drink. I am actually one of the rare few who enjoy watching my friends go down, down, down one by one as the night plunges deeper. The thought of recording them and making them YouTube-famous never occurred to me though; I like to keep the "entertainment" for myself. Perhaps, just seeing others loosen up a bit and forget everything that's happening in their lives is refreshing for me. I have always been perceived as the lucky one, the girl with no problems, the one who has no reason to mess up. I have no tangible justification (for others, at least) to go crazy and wild. So I don't. I don't go around doing silly stuff that would usually cause parental anxiety attacks. I've been a good girl, really.

But sometimes being the good girl is tiring.

The one time I was supposed to use my raging teenage hormones as an excuse to commit to someone, I turned that down. The last time I was given the chance to lash out on someone who really, really disappointed me, I forgave him. The one time I was supposed to feel betrayed and hurt by a friend, I let it go. In cases where one is expected to be irrational and insensitive -- I did the grown-up thing to do and made the right decision. I'm supposed to be thankful, really. And actually I am. Not all kids can step back and think things through before making decsions. I was able to. But I guess a little part of me also just wanted a reason to be immature and senseless -- even for a night.

For the record, it wasn't peer pressure. A part of me wanted it for myself, not just because I was curious but because I felt like I needed a reason to feel bad. I've been putting myself up on a pedestal and I couldn't handle the pressure I was applying on myself. I wanted to do good but I felt that I have no reason other than it's what I should do, not what I wanted to do. Life has been generally okay for me, and I feel so unmotivated. I crave for chaos and stress because it keeps things interesting; it keeps me moving. Otherwise I just dissolve and fade into the background.


I guess at the back of my mind I was calling it a "social experiment." I wanted to know what it was like to drink so that it wouldn't be just a concept inside my head -- it would be an experience I can use as a basis in the future. And also because lately I've been having so many issues about myself that are often deemed by others as trivial, but are still troubling nonetheless. I'm at this point in my life where so many questions about my principles and beliefs are coming up and I have no idea where I stand. I don't know where I'm going -- am I taking these roads because it's what I want or it's what is wanted of me? How come things aren't turning out the way I want them to? You call it ridiculousness, I call it identity crisis.

However, this is a lame excuse really. I'm not defending my drinking as a good thing. I wouldn't want to be justifying smoking or drugs or sex in the near future. I know it was irrational of me. But at the end of the day, what's done is done. What did I get out of it? Nothing, really. Only a night (not) worth remembering, a proof of my friends' love for me, and a reason to lie down and sleep all day. Lesson learned. That one time was enough.

But did I feel good about myself? Somehow. Because now I really know that I don't need to drink to loosen up. I can refuse a drink not because my mom's voice would be ringing inside my head, but because I actually know I may not be capable of handling myself. I can move on from that one irresponsible incident and not go wondering "What if?" with all the other experiences others seem to be enjoying. I can take start taking some pressure off of me and start embracing my status quo -- I proved that I don't need alcohol to make things interesting.

So yeah. I got a bit drunk, said stupid things, recovered from the hangover, and woke up to the still uneventful life that I have. I can look back on that night and laugh at myself because it was stupid but it ended up as a rude awakening for me. I hope this doesn't make me a bad girl, but now I guess this makes me more normal. Yeyy!



On the other hand, what kind of normal person would analyze her first drinking experience?