Elsewhere

My Symphonies:  Morning Light by Courrier | Will You Be By Me by Wallpaper Airplanes

[Vancouver, British Columbia]

“Today I decided to say goodbye to Vancouver, my home for the last 16 years. This city and this country has been so good to me, yet I always felt that something was missing. It took me a while to figure it out, and I finally realized: it is the feeling of connection. I found it difficult to make friends here, to connect with like-minded souls who would be there for each other. I had no family in Vancouver– many acquaintances, but only one or two real friends. I find Vancouver and all its beauty a very lonely place. So Vancouver, it’s time for me to go. But know that I am likely one of the many who feel the same way.” 

[taken from the 'Confessions' section of Georgia Straight, volume 46]

 I have called Vancouver many things; today, I call it emptiness. 

I have been here in British Columbia for a little more than ten months now. Yes, ten months is not such a long time. But in this province, ten months can feel like a decade of pure desolation. And as much as I hate writing about things I’m not happy about, I just feel the urgency of letting this one out once and for all.

Vancouver is a beautiful city, don’t get me wrong. But really, looks can be very deceiving. Before I came here, this city appeared in my dreams like a shining, glittering piece of hope for great beginnings. I came from a country and from a city which I then considered incapacitated. The Philippines is the place where I spent 18 years of my life, and Bacolod is the city in which I made lasting memories, both good and bad. And everytime I think about my hometown, I can’t help but realize that I have so much history there. Those 18 years hadn’t been dormant. In fact, those 18 years are still so full of life, energy and charisma that it doesn’t even feel like the past. It’s all still there, lingering. And so while I am in this foreign country, I am bound to feel like I have left a very big part of me behind, and now I am forcing myself to continue breathing in a significantly thinner amount of oxygen. And I was fine with that. I was fine with moving on. Damn, life made me move on quite a lot in the past. And I didn’t mind walking on a different road, sleeping in a different bed, drinking from a different source of water and seeing a different horizon. I was fine with that, until my heart cracked open. 

The thing about Vancouver is, there is an underlying gap between expectations and reality. It disappoints. Underneath the marvelous mountains, stunning lakes and oceans, marbled walls, vaulted ceilings and glamorous way of life, people here are living in the chaos of a social discord. And they don’t even know it.

Living here for almost a year, I learned that I am not willing to succumb to the depressing weather and the wet, gloomy streets of this province (except for a couple of weeks in August, during which it’s really amazingly sunny). I don’t know, I’m just not wired that way. I miss the hot air in the tropics, and how I had to sweat just by crossing the street. I miss jumping up and over upon seeing an ice cream cart being pushed and pulled by a sidewalk vendor. I miss those days when I could wear flip flops and board shorts when I just wanted to roam around the neighborhood. Mostly, I miss the warmth not just of the weather, but also of the people. And I am gonna miss all of this even more if I stay here for the remainder of my existence. I am one of the many people who admire white sand beaches, coconut trees, mojitos, reggae music and the sun. And I do love the city living. City living is the best for me. But Vancouver isn’t the kind of city I want to stay in for  a long time. Here is the kind of city living that triggers all sorts of emotions, but on most occasions, sadness… and the feeling that something is lacking. And for someone like me, that is a total hell.

Aside from the obviously dull and dark weather conditions, another thing that makes me fall out of love with this city is the fact that it is, as a matter of fact, a dazzling epitome of the failed Canadian multi-cultural project. Because really, this country isn’t multi-cultural at all. It is bi-cultural. The population is divided into who are “natives” and who are “immigrants”. And as far as I know, multi-culturalism is essentially impossible. People will always be who they are, but society will keep on seeing it not as different, but wrong. It sucks for some of us, but that’s just the way it is. And yeah. It sucks.

This is a city where it rains eight times a week, and most people hate that. But there’s something worse than the weather and the social condition, and that is the people themselves. This place is too cold, too rainy, too expensive, too unfriendly and too disconnected. And all of these too’s are referring to the general Vancouverites, not the weather and the living condition. It is frighteningly weird that this place has a great scenery, but has no character.

Living in Vancouver is like having a very hot, very good-looking drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend/girlfriend with absolutely no personality– vapid. It will keep you hanging around for a while but I mean, at the end of the day, this city has good looks and that’s all. Most of the people I have encountered here almost seem soulless. They have nothing to say, they have no depth, no spirit, no genuine aura, no sense of being alive. Everybody just seems so worried about succeeding, and fitting in, and getting richer, and looking cooler. They would keep you company, you would laugh together, eat together, talk about deep things, get drunk and get down but very rarely does it evolve to something bigger than that. Each conversation is nothing less flat than the other, each moment is nothing less shallow than the other and each day is no different than any other. People keep on saying that this is a beautiful place to live in, but that is a resounding no. To me, the idea that Vancouver is beautiful has begun to appear as a piece of spin that has no foothold in reality. And this is because as I grow up, I tend to define the term “beauty” very differently. It just seems so ridiculous to me how this place is being immensely overrated. I was one of those people who worshiped this city. But then again, humans never get contented. And I guess right now, this is me being a human being– always wanting what he doesn’t have, and always longing to be elsewhere. Hence, the discontentment.

The only thing that keeps me from evacuating this province soon enough is my school and the few amazing people I’ve known there. It’s like as soon as school is over, and as I head back home at the end of each day, it sort of feels like a wooden coaster ride– you feel so happy and so alive while you;re up there, but as soon as the ride is over you get down on your feet and feel empty again. And then you just feel dizzy and you just wanna vomit. That’s how I feel at the end of each day here. Clearly enough, I am not happy. 

It may seem unfair and irrational for me to blame it all on the people, but that’s just how I feel it. I am a very social person, and all of my old friends know that. But here, no matter how hard I reach out to people, the connection I foster is never good enough to last for more than three or four months. And even when I observe the relationships of people in this city, I can see how evanescent all of it is, and how everything seems so temporary and shallow. And now that I have declared my utter dislike of this place, I probably won’t last long here. And so I just wanna say in advance, to the two or three people whom I have considered real friends here, that I love you, and I will miss you in the future. I mean, I know there’s no telling. The future is quite uncertain, but all I know is that right now, I am decided that Vancouver is not the place I want to spend the rest of my life in.

This city has taught me many things. This place has a lot to offer. But a couple of things this city doesn’t have are heart and soul. And I might regret saying this a couple of years from now, but here goes…

I can’t wait to be elsewhere. 

The Unlucky Ones

My Symphony:  Sirens In the Deep Sea by Longwave

“Do you feel that sometimes it’s like we’re just an audience of a television show? Sometimes everything is just surreal.
Like we are the only ones who want to know when it’s actually a dream.” — Nathaniel G.  

April 29, 2012

Dear Nathaniel,

This might seem a little too far-off in the sense that I went from all that flirty flaunt to this monotonous of a topic, but I just want you to know that I value people like you. So much. You have no idea how big the part you play in my life is. You don’t see it because it’s not something that’s tangible. It’s just there: the fact that we are one of the few. I know I have the tendency to be brutally vague most of the time, but I will try my best to get this out as clearly as possible right now. What I wanna say is… you are one of the very few people who are like me. And that means that we are the bunch of people who think about things, who live life very consciously and then go home at the end of the day reflecting on everything, even the tiniest details. People like us, who are very critical (especially emotionally); who wonder about life; who watch and try to understand; who fall in and out of love carrying tons of doses of life experiences and lessons in between the transitions; people who talk to each other about their musings of the future and their indispensable past, gearing towards the unknown as each day passes. And yet, not knowing, despite all of those deliberate over-thinking, what to do, or where to go, or what to say, or how to feel.

Do you think this is just us, Nate? I do. I think that there’s really a few of us who are like this. People who were born into this world with the curse of living the rest of their lives with this penetrating urge of understanding everything they feel. And it’s unfair, if you ask me. It’s unfair because it’s impossible to understand our emotions. And although it may seem like we are one of the few, that distinction also means that we are the unlucky ones. We are the ones who have to face each day NOT KNOWING and yet WANTING TO. Do you think that our other friends or the other people in our life also act and feel like we do? Like Vince, or Jhun, or Adrian, or Christian, or Troy, or my brothers, or your family, or your classmates, or Ben? Do you think they also spend a significant amount of time gazing at the stars and wondering like we do? Do you? Because that’s what makes me think lately. I question this universe. I question the probability that everyone is deemed to reflect. Because now I don’t think that way anymore. I dont think that everyone in this world has the capacity, or at least the time and energy, to feel and choose to keep on feeling it. Because if that was the case, if everyone on earth acted and felt and wrote and thought like we do, then there wouldn’t be any broken hearts or shattered dreams. There wouldn’t be long arduous hours of wanting to just disappear. There wouldn’t be poverty, or chaos, or filth, or murder. There wouldn’t be a need for any quest for beauty and happiness, because all of it would be readily possessed and reflected by each of the individuals dwelling in this planet. But then I find this bad. I think that this life we live is really fated to be unpredictable, the love we feel unrequited, the things we do un-reciprocated and the death we fear unavoidable. And that is why people like us exist– so that the world can have a population of broken hearts that might never be mended… and of lost souls that may never be found. We are ones of the few, Nate. And we are also unlucky to some extent. But hey, here we are. And regardless of how we perceive our purpose here on earth to be, the only thing that we should focus on is what the universe conspired us to feel. And the bottomline of this out-of-this-world monologue is as follows:

• 1. We, “The Unlucky Ones”, shall indulge in our own feelings and emotions as much as we have to. Because even though it’s exhilarating at times, it is also a GIFT. Not everyone has it.

  2. I value you. Nothing less than I value Drew, and Daniel, and Jerome, and everyone else whom I have talked deep talks with. If you know what I mean. I value you, Nate. Because I don’t think that the ability to ponder on life as much as we do is generally common. Now I realize that it’s not. And if this world’s condition is any indicator, then you have yourself an evidence. 

  3. If one day I’ll go crazy (like literally crazy), I’d be surprised if you aren’t as well. 

  With love, joy, despair and all things else in between,
  Kenn 

Detachment Issues

My Symphonies: Sunday Morning Call (acoustic session) by Oasis

 All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye by John Mayer

Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting. — Peter Pan

As you might have guessed, earthlings, I am about to post something in which the integral focus is saying goodbye. I just can’t help it. Tomorrow might be the very last day I get to see a few people who have earned a place in my heart and mind over the span of four months. And here I am, sitting in front of my laptop, fully aware that the many weeks to come will be yet another parade of eerie moments of getting used to some people’s sudden absence. I know that at this point of my life I should already be a veteran at letting people go, but as I grow up I find that it never gets any easier; in fact, it gets harder… more unbearable. But I know that there’s nothing I can do about it. People always leave for different sorts of reason. So here. I have decided to compile herein words of goodbye (ugh, I’m such an emotional masochist).

Words of goodbye (a compilation):

And so it comes just as it is, a day no longer here.
And through my trembling fingertips, the memories of the year …
I try not to wave farewell to all our dreams; I will forget you never,
I wonder if the crazy times will stay with you forever …
But as I cry in pain of losing you, my dear and such good friend,
I will not close the book and say, “Farewell, this is the end.”
For good-byes create swift hellos and days from now you’ll see,
That though it hurts to say good-bye, your friend I’ll always be.

“The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. Maybe they always have been and will be. Maybe we’ve lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we’ve found each other. And maybe each time, we’ve been forced apart for the same reasons. That means that this goodbye is both a goodbye for the past ten thousand years and a prelude to what will come.” — Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

“What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? – it’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.” 
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road

“I was trying to feel some kind of good-bye. I mean I’ve left schools and places I didn’t even know I was leaving them. I hate that. I don’t care if it’s a sad good-bye or a bad good-bye, but when I leave a place I like to know I’m leaving it. If you don’t you feel even worse.” 
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

“I’ve never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. The pain is like an axe that chops my heart. ” 
― Yann Martel, Life of Pi

“I do not say goodbye. I believe that’s one of the bullshitiest words ever invented. It’s not like you’re given the choice to say bad-bye, or awful-bye, or couldn’t-care-less-about-you-bye. Everytime you leave, it’s supposed to be a good one.” 
― John Green, Will Grayson, Will Grayson

 ”Don’t be dismayed at goodbyes.  A farewell is necessary before you can meet again.  And meeting again, after moments or lifetime, is certain for those who are friends.” ~Richard Bach

“We only part to meet again.”  ~John Gay

“Can miles truly separate you from friends? I mean, if you want to be with someone you love, aren’t you already there?” ~Richard Bach

“Good-bye … there’s just no sadder word to say.And it’s sad to walk away with just the memories.Who’s to know what might have been,we leave behind a life and time we’ll never know again.”~ Leanne Rimes

“Good-byes make you think.They make you realize what you’ve had, and what you lost and what you’ve taken for granted.”

Good-bye (again). 

What’s Real Is What’s Not

My Symphony: Into The Great Unknown by Signal Hill Transmission

A monologue… of lies, truth, and whatever it is that’s in between. 

For Inch

Yes, it’s all just in my mind. But it’s also kind of realistic, you know? I mean, even if we are many, many miles away from each other, and even if the reality is that he will forever be just some sort of an irrevocable chimera and that to him I will, for the rest of his life, remain just the “little brother” of his bestfriend who was eccentric enough to write him 24 letters and pretty much depend 90% of his happiness on him, I don’t really care. I don’t care at all. I mean, who cares about reality anyway? I don’t like the real world. It’s quite convoluted, you know. I mean every morning you sort of force yourself to get out of bed, you take a shower, you get ready and then you hit the door; then you go to school, or work. Your day might either be “good” or “bad”, and then you go home, do your homework or whatever, and then jump in to bed knowing deep in your guts that you aren’t genuinely happy. Tragic. That’s what reality is: it’s tragic, and dark, and vague, and miserable, and cold, and complicated and full of shit and, and… and I know that is why I am no longer the person I was. This world I live in… it changed me. And it continues to change me every day. As each second passes, I begin to lose faith in humanity—in what’s real and tangible. I, I… I like… fiction. It’s funny coz when I when I was in 6^th Grade I read this quote written in pencil on the very first page of a Biology book which was sitting on a dusty chair in the library. It went like this: “Fantasy love is so much better than reality love. Never really doing it is very exciting. The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet.” The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet. How beautiful is that? Very beautiful. You know, you sit in the dark corner of your room after a bad day, and then you remember someone. Someone you’ve loved for six years but never really been in an actual relationship with, and the only interesting thing you know about him is that he likes eating ice cubes and biting cartons whenever he’s drunk. And then you sort of take that one interesting thing in your imagination and then you get a myriad of different reasons why you have fallen for that person. And then all of a sudden you notice that you are not alone anymore. You love someone, and you know that it just doesn’t matter if he loves you back because you know… you know that loving isn’t owning. It’s never asking for anything in return. That’s true love. And that’s bliss. And for the rest of you… who are “normal”… you may call it a fabrication… or a myth, a delusional fairytale with no real ending… whatever. I don’t need what’s real to be happy. All I need is the air that I breathe, and my imagination. I am happy. 

Laxatives and Narratives

My Symphonies:

Operating by Lady Danville | Wait by M83 | Don’t Go by Wretch 32 feat. Josh Kumra 

“This is a weird world we live in.” — Daniel KV

 Since I moved here in Canada, a lot of things have changed in my life: views, beliefs, social stature, financial state, taste, fashion, activities, et cetera. But what resounds to me the most is the change that happened within me, and it’s something which seems hard to articulate. Well I guess I can put it this way: since I moved in this country, my life has been conventional, standard or, for an even plainer term, proper. To put it simply, I haven’t been the “wild” and “daring” person I used to be. There are times when I actually fear that the interesting, jolly, adventurous, fearless entity inside me is already dead; that I’ve already lost the cheer I used to own and all that is left is a  collision of a dull simplicity– no edges at all. And I don’t know if this has something to do with the fact that I am new to this whole environment or if I have merely outgrown what one might call “the untamed stage”. However, it doesn’t really matter. Because last night, I somehow managed to experience who I was again for one night. Basically, last night was the most exciting and memorable thing that had happened to me here in Vancouver so far. Why? Because last night was the first time I felt like myself again after a loooong time. So I am here to write about last night, about what I did, about what I learned and rediscovered. And yes, I am literally feeling like a zombie with only four hours of sleep and a hangover right now, but I am convinced that I am impelled to put these precious thoughts in my head into writing while they’re still fresh to my memory.

Caution:  What you are about to read may contain reckless rantings, juvenile yammering and relatively mundane narrations. Trails of careless conclusions may have also been injected in the article. Read at your own risk. 

Yesterday, Daniel and I went to Havana to see this queer improv comedy show called The Bobbers Do The Bible. One of the main reasons why we decided to go is because our improv instructor at school, David C. Jones, was one of the performers, but it was also because we didn’t have much to do. Before we got to the theatre, there have been several navigational mishaps which resulted to the two of us being nine minutes late for the show. Fortunately for us, the staff or whatever were nice enough to allow latecomers (although we both maintain that we didn’t deserve to be called latecomers because nine minutes isn’t that bad, right? Right? Right). So yeah. The improv show was inspired by random bible passages and audience votes, and it was definitely hilarious. During the first intermission, Daniel and I decided to grab some drinks. I got a glass of margarita while he had a pitcher of dark beer. After the show, half of the pitcher of dark beer was waiting to be consumed. And because Daniel is such a beer fanatic (well, not really but you know what I mean), he made me drink it too. And so I did. We finished the beer. I ordered a plate of fries (which the waitress emphasized were regular fries) along with a pitcher of Mojito (which happens to be one of my favorite beverages). I was already starting to feel a little buzzed by the time the Mojito was served. And so, just like what normal people do when they’re buzzed, we talked. And this isn’t just the hangover speaking, but I know for a fact that in between those Mojito gulps was a string of simple yet meaningful conversations. Apparently there is really something about alcohol that makes people say (or ask) what they have to say (or ask) the moment they wanna say (or ask)  it– no sugar coats. Just the truth. Plain and simple. Just before we finished the pitcher, we ordered another one, at which point we were already too tipsy to care. And what’s fascinating about the whole making of orders is the fact that we are both broke, but we just didn’t give a heck; we weren’t even looking at the price list. We just did what we had to do: get drunk and not give a f*ck about the world. Halfway through the second Mojito pitcher, we called Simon (and I honestly barely even remember what I was saying and what we were talking about, or why exactly we decided to call him). Well, just fun stuff. Finally, we were done with all the drinks. In total, we managed a pitcher of dark beer and two pitchers of Mojito in our systems. The result? You’re about to find out.

We went out of the bistro laughing, yelling and literally hopping. We were talking about getting some more booze or blaze and how we’re gonna be able to get to his place when I realized that I was feeling light– like I wasn’t wearing anything. That’s when it sank in to me that my wallet wasn’t with me at that moment. Crazy, ei? It’s particularly crazy since I was consciously laughing while saying “my wallet! I lost my wallet! HAHAHAHA”. Daniel was already half-panicking. It was almost like he was more concerned about my own wallet than I was. And that was when I told myself “Man, I haven’t felt like this in almost two years”. What I actually meant was that I have never felt that feeling of being carefree and just shallowly (yet truthfully) happy since I was in high school. I mean, I used to always hang out with my friends (people I treated like family), get drunk, lose things and just be blissful. And we were just so young (15-16 years old) and free. It all felt real and wonderful. And I miss that. I miss those moments. I miss just being who I am with people who wouldn’t change a tiny bit of their perception of me even if they know all the not-so-becoming secrets I keep. I miss that feeling of eating french fries and dipping them in ketchup even if I don’t normally dip stuff in ketchup coz I don’t really like ketchup, but I didn’t mind coz I was drunk, and I like ketchup when I’m drunk. See?  This reminiscence even makes my sentences awkward and ungrammatical. But then I don’t care because that’s the feeling I’ve been longing for– the feeling of not caring; of just soldiering on in exciting ways; the feeling of being alive. And that’s exactly how I felt that moment when Daniel was running back to the bar to go find my wallet, and I was just walking, taking my time as I allowed oxygen to enter my lungs. And in my mind was my old self telling me “Chill. Whether or not you find your wallet, you are happy. I know you are. And that’s what’s important.” 

Just as I was talking to myself in my mind, I heard somebody across the street yelling “Hey! Are you guys looking for something?” When I heard that, I just instantly felt like I already saw it coming. It was almost like I knew that I was gonna get my wallet back in the end. And there he is, a raggedly dressed five feet six inches tall guy, walking next to me. His name is Ryan. When I saw him walking beside me, he was going over my wallet as if double checking, scanning it again to make sure that he took all that he needed. See, this seems to be a regular tragedy, but if you come look at it, I was in this undeniably extraordinary moment. I was walking next to a random guy whom I’ve never met before, searching my wallet as if he was dissecting some reptile in Biology class, while I was just looking at him while he was doing it, defenseless. It’s not regular at all. That was an exciting experience. Not everyone gets to experience that. And so there. He took 20 bucks from my wallet as well as my beloved monthly bus pass. So despite him being such a hippie, he actually is a hero. Not for me, bot for himself. He was heroic enough to save himself from taking all the other stuff in my wallet which he might not even need, or from not bothering to give me back my wallet at all. I am thankful that I still have all the vital IDs in my wallet. I loved him for returning them to me. I mean, at the end of the day, maybe he needed that 20 bucks way more than I would ever do. Maybe he needs the bus pass way more than I do. Above all of it, I was just somehow happy to have seen him get himself a couple slices of pizza. This guy may have been starving for several days. If that 20 bucks was enough to change his life even just for 24 hours, I am already happy for him. Everyone deserves a slice of pizza every once in a while anyway.

After I got my wallet back, what happened was something I’d rather not elaborate here in the cyber space. Basically, Daniel almost got in what could have been a messy and bloody street fight with a couple of cranked up hipster-type seemingly directionless men who have probably not done anything productive with their lives at all.  But yeah. IT WAS FUN. Another epic moment. And what basically happened next was the two of us walking along the streets of Vancouver in search for buses (how adventurous). It was already quarter to two in the morning. We were sitting in a bus stop. We were listening to sick beats in Daniel’s iPod on full volume. We were laughing, and we seemed to be so happy and we didn’t even exactly know why. All I know is that at that time, I completely let go of my sheer contempt to the world. I didn’t hate the world last night. I was just having a great time. And it was because I used my imagination and pretended that the world didn’t exist, and that I was but a kindred soul galloping next to a friend’s influential presence.

After two hours of walking and bus-searching, we made it to Daniel’s place. At that point, my mind was already packed with lightness. All I ever wanted to do was drink some juice and water, play some videogames and force myself to be oblivious to the reality that when  the sun rises, all of it will be just another day which will add up as an utter memory…; Daniel and I played Grand Theft Auto high as f*ck. And we couldn’t stop laughing at the littlest things in the videogame. It was especially exciting for me because it was the first time I’ve ever played that game. Hell, it was the first time I’ve played a videogame in years! And I don’t wanna appear to be someone who is eternally passive, but I just can’t help but remember those days when I would play Mario in Family console. I remember being so cheerful and being so pure– someone who didn’t have any prejudices or judgments about anything or anyone in his life; someone who was so little yet so full of life. And that’s what I experienced that moment in front of the TV, sitting on a “frighteningly comfy” rolled blanket, holding an Xbox controller, being consumed by a 2-player mode game with a friend. I missed that.

We then went to the bedroom, but it seemed like the night wasn’t over just yet. We watched several videos of ghosts and aliens in Youtube. I remember telling Daniel a little chunk of my own experience with a ghost when I was nine. All of it was just interesting. I mean, the videos. No matter how ridiculously false they appear to be, somehow I believe them. At least at that moment, I did. I am pretty sure that at that moment, I was consumed by my imagination. And it’s funny how imagining stuff can lead you to talking about reality. When the lights were turned off, and when we both were lying down on our respective mattresses, all curled up with the gentle comforters, and just before we totally shut our eyes, four lines have been said (not accurately, but here’s how I remember they were said):

Me: It’s really crazy. We all live in this world thinking that we are the only ones who exist. I mean, there could be aliens out there. We think we are so big, but we’re not.

Daniel: We are so small. There are 600 billion stars out there, Kenn. 

Me: Exactly. Life is so strange.

Daniel: This is a weird world we live in.

 And we fell asleep.

I found this “last chapter of the night” very wistful as it reminded me of my ex-bestfriend (whom I have wrote about in one of my previous blog entries). We also used to just lie down before sleeping and just talk about the most spontaneous topics and we always ended up discussing transcending views on life and how much we wonder about it. You know, you just look at the ceiling while talking to somebody with a like-minded spirit as you two discover what you believe in together; as you try to embellish what appears to be dull and analyze what seems to be self-explanatory through conversations which don’t happen everyday. That’s beautiful. And I missed that.

Before I end this post and surrender myself to the boring reality again, let me just express my gratitude to the universe for conspiring to make me experience the kind of life I used to live on a daily basis before I moved in this gigantic country. I am aware that I no longer have the kind of life I used to own. I am aware that the friends I’ve invested so much in may not even remember me ten or eleven  years from now. And I am aware that I am making baby steps again. I am going from the very beginning once again. These lands don’t contain my footprints yet. The grounds of this city aren’t familiar with the soles of my feet. Its walls don’t recognize my smell and its dwellers do not know who I am. And so before me is actually a shining, percolating chance to start again. And it took me eight months to realize that.

As with Daniel, he is someone I do not really know. I mean, I doubt anyone would even expect us to hang out. I don’t know his family, his friends, the stuff he does, the food he likes, the things he hates or what he thinks about jellybeans. I can barely even picture his face out using my imagination because I don’t usually see him on a daily basis. His energy is something I’m not used to just yet, and he is technically an acquaintance. I mean, he might not even care about the crazy things that happened last night. He might already be over it. He might not even be as amazed as I am right now. He might not even read this and care. We might not even hang out like that again. We might not even talk about last night ever again. He might even be just another dude who I got drunk with. But that’s not the point. The point is, last night, he was my bestfriend. And last night, I rediscovered who I am.  And that goes beyond any other social journey I’ve had in my life so far.

Call me a deliberate over-thinker. I don’t mind. It’s probably true. *wink

 

Kiddie Pool Deep

My Symphony: Let Me Take You Out by Class Actress

[Liam and Silver, 90210]

Season4,Episode20: The episode that affirmed my concrete belief that humans are generally incapable of fulfilling the concept of “forever” in relationships.

It is pretty much similar with all the other teen drama series, but 90210 really has the most mishmashed coupling up of characters that it has already come to a point of making no sense at all. I never missed a second of the series, and I am a witness. Everybody in this show is just dating everybody else. It doesn’t matter if that person was his/her bestfriend’s boyfriend/girlfriend or if he/she was a former love interest of somebody else close to him/her. And the worst part is none of the characters really seem to care. The girls who almost killed each other over a guy have instantly moved on, became friends again and are now dating the ex-boyfriends of their friends. And the guys who have been to hell and back just to win the affection of the girls are now with the girls who used to be their BEST BUDDIES’ “only one”.

And I am not being an over-reacting raw-truth concluding bitter self-righteous hypocrite here. I actually already took my Vow of “Celibacy”. I mean, what has happened to this world? What happened to chivalry, benevolent truth and altruistic indulgence? I know some breeds of people are fine with all the kiddie-pool deep connections going on in this planet, but it’s not fun anymore– not when you begin to acquire the knowledge and understanding that it’s ridiculously disturbing and derogatory.

But nope, I don’t hate 90210. It’s still my favorite show in the world.
I am just happy that the truth about “modern” human relationships is really being displayed in the open in broad daylight, and I am here… sitting, watching as humanity breaks into tiny ugly pieces of lies and dark fabrications. And at the end of the day, just like 90210, this all is just nothing more than a SHOW. Yep, that’s what all of this is. Some sort of a “live theatre performance” created and performed by all the “normal” humans in this world… and I’m the only one watching.

P.S. So much for my then undying hope that Annie and Liam will end up together in the end. Oh well scalpel! That’s it Sanskrit!

Seven Hundred Thirty-two Point Five

My Symphony: Little Wonders by Rob Thomas

Our lives are made in these small hours, these little wonders, these twists and turns of fate. Time falls away, but these small hours… these small hours still remain. And in the end, we will only just remember how it feels.

Yesterday, I was so carried away with the knowledge that it was my beloved mom’s birthday (March 23). We talked on the phone for roughly 30 minutes, and then I went to bed at quarter past midnight. I woke up to a new day, took a shower, ate my little brunch and just after I drank the very last drop of my apple grape juice, that’s when I realized that high school is already exactly 732.5 days ago.

March 24, 2010 (High School Class 2010 Graduation).  Two years ago, I never really thought that I would write about this one day. When I was in high school, all I ever wished for was to get out of high school. I couldn’t wait to put those four years, which I considered a heavenly hell-like ghetto paradise, behind me. But now that I am in a new country where no one really knows me at all, I begin to find out how much I love my high school days. It’s almost like the only certain thing that had happened in the past. High school is still fresh to my memory. All still appears clear to me: the hallways, the classrooms, the textbooks I used to carry with me to school, the names and faces of teachers, the canteen, the university football field (which happens to be my favorite place in the world), the subjects I really really hated (which I’m sure I’ll never get to encounter ever again in my life), the high school park (even if I never really spent a significant amount of my time there), the lobby, the tall, shady trees which made breathing through those four years a lot easier, the gymnasium, the amphitheatre, the lockers, the armchairs and the energy of each student in the department. But apart from that, what resounds to me the most is the fact that everytime I think about high school, I instantly get this weird, giddy notion that all of it feels like just yesterday. And it does. It does feel like 24 hours ago.

I can never really completely explain how much I feel right now. I’ve never really felt anything like this before. It’s that feeling that you’ve lived so much in the span of two years, but then you look back to the years before that and you notice that you’ve never lived like you’ve lived high school. Yes, high school was full of drama and superficiality. And I often doubted its purpose. I even reached the extent of cursing it. But I take all that back now. I was a kid, and I may have said and done things which didn’t really make sense then, but actually ended up defining who I am now. So yes, high school was a lot of work, but it was also definitely an array of subtle yet vigorous  life-defining moments that taught us lessons which are everlasting. And I don’t know if the rest of my batch mates feel this way, but I do. I do feel that those cliques, those social codes, those rainy days of cramming, those stern classes, cheesy puppy and first loves (which we all thought would last “forever”), those cute little notes we made, those little fights (which then seemed like World War 3), those academic and social competitions, those dry and dire hours of bearing with Drafting, Math, Physics and CAT, those flag ceremonies (which I usually skipped), those numerous mass services in the oratory (which I also skipped), those moments of staying in the campus past hours, the tiny bits of “suffering” and the overall tragicomedy were ALL worth it.

High school graduation is already two years ago. A year from now, I will remember this day as I type in “March 24, 2013…”

See: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCIk8nwH8VY