I'm a part of that, aren't I?
I'm rusty. I keep on watching Anna Kendrick sing A Part Of That just so I'd be compelled to write. I find that song so sad, you see? They're still both so in love but little cracks are slowly crawling into their relationship. Something is wrong and she knows it. He's slipping away from her and yet when he smiles her worries are forgotten. Just for a bit.
I'm rusty. Really rusty. I need something to write about.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Something in the air is making me consistently cheerful and I am not complaining. Last year was a roller coaster but with more highs than lows. Definitely more highs. It would be pretty hard to beat 2012 but with all these adventures that I have planned for 2013, I bet it's going to be even better.
I have a song for 2013 and it makes me giddy each time I hear it. It seems that A Fine Frenzy has successfully (again!) put into words all my feelings.
Also, Alison Sudol is perfect. She dyed her hair blonde and is short and choppy now, just like mine. I adore her.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Happy Sunday everyone!
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
I woke up to a text message from a friend today, and now I'm probably having a major depressive episode. I replied back but my friend didn't so I ended up checking online whatever the matter was. I was tagged to this link, I kind of started to panic. I checked it out and before I even finished it I wanted to cry and vomit my guts out at the same time. You see, years back sometime in 2007, I just turned 21 or was about to turn 21 I think, I met my Sir Gawain but I lost him on that same day.
It was that lost chance that I'll never get back. I tried to look for him years ago but I stopped because I can't be the girl who takes long bus rides without any reason anymore. And this makes me sad because, I'm not as brave as how I used to be. I want to be inspired again, to write compulsively again and be the girl who wears flip flops during a rain storm who is unafraid to make a connection while in a freezing bus ride back home.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Reminiscing good times is deceptive.
It nestles you in a profile you're no longer in. It incites nostalgia, and nostalgia is only nice when, over all, the present is a better or at least an equal alternative. Moreover, memories are always idealized. It's in our human nature to make ourselves believe that life wasn't always shit. Because when life has been good at one point, the possibility for it to turn good again isn't out of sight, you know? Whereas, if you're too far gone, too far away from good times, you do lose sight of it.
"I can't get past it," I whisper, "It's a trust thing. A relationship is based on trust."
"Yeah..." You trail off, then repeats, "Yeah."
I remember this one time a friend asked me why in God's name I insisted on reading books that 'made you want to slit your wrists', like Sylvia Plath. I'd looked up from The Bell Jar and told him that there is a certain beauty to melancholy, an unspecified soothing in someone else's misery, for the simple fact that you know you're not the only sad person in the world. Because worse than being sad, is being sad while the rest of the world is out celebrating. Or even when you're not feeling blue in the slightest, you can't help but notice how sadness improves one's art, how words seem to have a nicer flow to them, how sorrow makes the world seem deeper and more profound. He had shaken his head and walked away, muttering something with 'girls' and 'crazy' in the same sentence.
The beauty I found in other's pain, I now find in mine. Here, enclosed in your arms, with your smell engulfing my senses, I find entire, complete beauty in the way we are holding on, shielding each other from the harsh reality we're about to face. Even though I know I'll never wake up next to you again, and even though you realize you'll be sorry for what you did to me and what consequences this had for a very long time, I don't think we've ever embraced one another more tightly.
This is desperation. This is clinging onto something that we lost a long time ago in the first place.
This is the goodbye we never really had.
And when that thought comes to mind, something snaps and somehow my rationality leaves me and before I know it I really do start weeping. You simply press me closer, causing your grey shirt to moisten due to my sobbing. I'm sure you're aware of this, but you don't seem to mind. Remarkable how some things just fully fade when other, larger obstacles get in the way, like when a relative dies, you couldn't care less about the expensive necklace you lost the other day, or when you can't graduate, it doesn't matter if you failed that one Calculus test. Or, for example, when you're losing your chance to get back together with your first love for real, you don't give a bloody damn about tear stains on your shirt.
"Hey," you say quietly. "You sure?"
Looking up, I wipe my eye, "Yes."
And then you cup my face with both your hands, look at me with an expression that's distinctly unlike you, and kiss my forehead.
"If you ever..." you trail off again. For a moment it seems as if you're about to cry with me, but it passes as soon as it came.
I don't want you to cry either.
I want you to be you.
I want you to be, but I can't forgive you for being it.
"If you ever," he picks up the thread again, builds in another intermezzo, "change your mind... I'm not stupid enough to tell you I'll be waiting forever, but I'm sure that..." You sigh, shake your head, "If we'd meet up, you'd insult me and I'd insult you, and maybe we would get drunk and at some point, we might get back what we once had, because – "
"Because it's what we do," I smile sadly, cutting him off.
"I never blamed you for not trusting me and I never will," you go on, "because after... what happened... I don't trust myself anymore. I did for a while before, you know..."
"Yeah, I know."
And for the last time, you sort of sway me softly and then your arms slowly pull away from my body and it's like the air freezes. It occurs to me that this is not the right way to let go – it should've been passionate sex or a huge fight where we'd end up stabbing the other – but then I comprehend the fact that why loved you so much in the first place was because of what was underneath the obvious.
You take a step back, entwining my fingers with yours only to let me go afterwards. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," I hiccup.
I watch you turn your back, feeling like you're leaving me while I'm the one who's making the decision. There's something akin to doubt and regret taking over my guts, but I don't find the will to act on it - I just stand there, paralyzed, and then you're officially out my sight and out of the blood-pumping device in the middle slash left side of my chest.
This is the ending of a movie that you don't really want to see happening.
Monday, August 15, 2011
If you know me personally, you would have known that I like to eavesdrop. A lot. (Yes, I know listening to other people's conversations is rude but I can't help it. It's fun.) Well, maybe not every conversation out there. Just the interesting ones. This of course does not include a paricular "talk" which I overheard while I was waiting in line at KFC. Apparently, girl A lost her virginity to guy C who happens to NOT be her boyfriend because she was drunk and didn't know what she was doing. She recounted this loudly to girl B (who I assume is her best friend), who was in the middle of choosing which meal she'd like to buy. This of course, is disgusting. First of all, when you're drunk you always know what you're doing. You just can't help yourself. Second, I couldn't careless about some random whore's torn hymen. And third, that's just TMI. Ugh.
Anyway, earlier today I heard an interesting conversation while I was inside an elevator. A little boy and his aunt were having a discussion/argument of sorts. I only heard snippets of their talk. What intrigued was the fact that the little boy was confused and annoyed. The weird thing was, they were talking about how the world came to be aka Genesis. So the little boy was pissed at Adam and Eve or something. He couldn't undestand why Adam had to leave paradise when it was Eve who ate the forbidden apple in the first place. He asked why did God do that to Adam? Technically, it was all Eve's fault. This makes a lot of sense and personally, I really do think that God was unfair to Adam. The boy kept saying that Adam should have not been punished. They were about to leave the elevator when the aunt told the kid, "Well... What if Adam wanted to leave?"
The whole exchange struck me. The little boy wasn't cute at all but he was endearing and charming. I really like that he asked questions that I never even thought of when I was a child. Smart kids are beyond cute. But what struck me the most was the aunt's reply. Yeah, what if Adam didn't want stay in paradise? What if he really wanted to leave? What if Adam wanted to leave with Eve? My overly romantic side is kicking in right now and all I want to say is maybe for Adam, paradise won't be paradise if Eve wasn't in it. Maybe there's a different paradise for all of us and it just so happened that for Adam, paradise was Eve. Of course, this is just me guessing.
My point really is, I won't stop eavesdropping even if it's rude. Why? Because these little conversations that I overhear every now and then make me think and feel and realize things. I learn from them. So I'm never gonna stop.
-random video which I happen to like a lot-
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
It's been raining and flooding a lot lately. I doubt that it'll let up anytime soon. So, in celebration of the bleak weather I decided to start a new blog (yes!) and share this song that I just can't get out of my head.
Adele's entire 21 album is love.
Adele's entire 21 album is love.