ein Gedicht für dich

just because... Mesut in a Nutella ad,
if I'm not mistaken 

Waiting for the laundry to finish - and there it is, the beep before the last round. So I should be able to get to bed soon. (Lucky me, my VTO request was granted very early. Incessant coughing since last night and I dunno, weakened defenses maybe, have handed a very painful throat to me, which won't do at all in my line of work. Plus, the coughing. It's been a long time since I last got afflicted with one, and when I do, it usually only goes away months after I've contracted it. Bummer.)

Anyway, as I was saying before the very long digression, me has time. And an excess of some more daydreaming and word geekery. So I'm posting what was today's German assignment which was supposed to be about time. My classmate didn't say anything of the sort though, but with a wee bit stretching of the imagination, one can find it as still incorporating time. I've intended for it to be longer but the limit was only up to 12 lines. But yeah, I might one day strive to complete this. Inspired by recent events, its grammar is not topnotch, nor is the content. One can easily find shadows of the message in past posts. But anyway, this is me, the shamelessness sometimes outweighing good judgment. lol. This is my blog anyway. So if I want hell to break loose on here, then it shall.

And so, without further ado...

Heute nach einer sehr langen Weile
   hast du mich wieder beachtet.
Dein Lächeln hat Fröhlichkeit
   an meinem Miene beigebracht.
Deine Aufmerksamkeit erlaubte mich zu denken,
   dass es eine Hoffnung gibt
Für mich, für dich, für uns.
Bis ich finde jemanden neuen
   fortsetze ich zu traumen
Was war, was ist und was werde. 

*still having a hard time grasping German, but still I strive...

tales of the vending machine

coffee-scented stamp from Brazil /
photo from https://www.facebook.com/Nescafe

There was a girl who, when she discovered the 14-peso Cafe Mocha by the office's Nescafe Vending Machine, took to it like Bethany Hamilton to surfing or men to big boobs, sugar level at two (maximum is five). She loved to pair it with some discounted Triple Choco Boom from Country Style, available at the office building's ground floor two hours before closing. That was chocolate heaven, and the almost bitter, not-so-sweet Cafe Mocha complemented it well. There would be times when she needed some heat (the office AC was too cold) or some wake-me-up (she hadn't had enough sleep). Times like these, she was headed to the chill lounge at the other side of the office floor to have her brief fill of that delicious, hot, brown liquid. Then she'll be set for the rest of the shift.

There was a time when said girl had no coins with her, unable to foresee that she may need said delicious, hot, brown liquid before her lunch break. The machine was picky with the P20 bills (should be the old edition and then a bit worn), and well, she simply had none on her that time. So she borrowed coins from the teammate sitting beside her. Then when she finally got her money, decided to pay her. Said teammate refused; said she'll just get it when time came that she needed the money. So pocket the money the girl did.

Some days after, she was psyched up to drink a cup of said delicious, hot, brown liquid when teammate piped up, I need my money now. Of course, she had no choice but to fork over those coins - the only coins she had on her to be able to drink drink that brew at her upcoming break. So move the coffee drinking time she did to her lunch break.

Lunch break came and she was finally able to drink said sought-after brew after a trip back to her locker two floors up. While still savoring the rest of her free unpaid time, Kras Nummer drei came in and went straight to said vendo machine, by which she was seated. Said Kras inserted his P20 bill, machine promptly ate it up and coughed it out immediately. He looked to her and asked whether she had change. As it turns out, after buying various stuff for her lunch she did have. It was P1 shy of what he had though, but he said it was okay. So exchange money they did. And he got his brew, thanked her and went on his way back to the floor.

A few moments later, Kras Nummer eins came sauntering in. There were a few people by the vendo, still awaiting their own brew. Girl was looking straight ahead at the glass window to the scene in front of her, though they were only buildings. Kras Nummer eins, in his striped polo and semi-slacks, hadn't recognized her yet as her back was to him, but when he looked at the window as well, made eye contact with her and waved at her reflection; she waved back. No words exchanged. People finally vacated the vendo machine and he inserted his P20 bill, which machine promptly spat back out. It's not recorded who spoke first, but they exchanged comments about the vendo machine's caprice. She mentioned that the new edition bills weren't usually accepted; he said it usually has to be crumpled a bit first, with a bit of boasting in his part. So crumple his bill he did, to no avail. She remembered she still had another bill in her pocket, not the one Kras Nummer drei exchanged with her, and gave it to Kras Nummer eins. He apologized for the crumpled bill, took hers, and successfully had his brew. Flirting she was not, but enjoy the exchange she did, loudly replying to his thanks as he exited the lounge, while others she did not know were still inside the room.

And thus it was that the first vendo machine incident gave rise to this encounter with Kras Nummern eins und drei und sie war sehr glückich. Kras Nummer zwei she hadn't encountered at said vendo before. But she'll be fine with just having more encounters with Nummer eins at said vendo.


Note: originally started/thought about writing this am der 18. Oktober 2012.

beautiful Malèna's plight

Since my friend wasn't replying about the exact address of where we were supposed to go earlier this afternoon (net was down so I couldn't check), I had an impromptu movie day. Been watching Italian films lately. This time, I plopped down to Malèna. I first watched this film during my freshman year nine years ago at the then UP Film Center. It was unlike anything I've ever mostly seen at that time. Sure, I had the occasional trips to Video City, but then they consisted mostly of - aside from the mainstream ones - mostly Chinese films, classics, the critically-acclaimed ones which don't really sell in the box office, and an occasional wayward one like Thailand's The Beautiful Boxer. I'm not sure when my sensibilities for non-mainstream, critically-acclaimed foreign language films began, but it was probably around the time I saw this, and some other films in that same all-ratings-allowed cinema.

I had the impression then that this film had a high attendance especially among the hormonal male population of UP because of the high probability of seeing nudity and/or sex, like Y Tu Mamá También, the mention of which is almost often accompanied by a sort of dismissive 'yeah-it's-all-that' tone, or so I imagine. So watch I did, and indeed, it's true there was nothing that the UP Film Center wouldn't show, as my later viewing of Y Tu Mamá También proved (most graphic film I ever saw there). The newness of it all may have not left very distinct impressions on me. I never fully understood it then, except that here was a widow who was fancied by all, as well as this boy who was in love with her and kept tabs on her, until she finally became the whore everyone was proclaiming her to be at the beginning, and then they finally turned on her as a whore and traitor for playing with the German colonizers.

Now, I understand and empathize with Malèna Scordia better. Her beauty and body are legendary, as evidenced by the scores of men and women who would watch her as she walked the streets on one of her sojourns to her Dad's abode. She dressed differently, more beautifully than all the other women. The first time she was shown walking to her Dad's place, I marveled at the distance she covered, the fact that she's in heels and that she broke not one sweat. Talk about almost perfect haha. Do they not sweat in Italy when they walk through their coastal abodes, through the city, in the dress norm of years ago of full length dress or blouse and skirt, stockings and heels?

Her story is told through the eyes of Renato, who was finding out about her and becoming his own man as he grew up under Mussolini, and then later on, the German occupation of Italy, and their little island of Sicily. Unlike everyone who sees her as just some ass to fuck, Renato, despite his fantasies about her, feels genuinely for her - her loneliness, how the townspeople say bad things about her, everyone who used her body when she realized it was one of the tools she had to survive, her eventual departure after she was publicly tortured and defamed. It did not help Malèna's case that she was not from there, and not nine months after she was married, her husband had to be called away for the war. Then news of her husband's death came, and here she was a young widow, available for anyone who came calling. The talks about her became nastier and nastier as everyone's husband, boyfriend, father and son were entranced by her. Less than honorable men took advantage of her, one at a time. Then a change of government came, and she jumped into pleasuring men wholeheartedly. There was another local whore of course and less beautiful, but it was only Malèna who, when Sicily was liberated, bore the ire of the townswomen as they dragged her to the plaza by her hair, kicked, punched and stomped on her. Clothes ripped and bloodied, that was the only time she ever showed any emotion to the general public. Then she left her house and was never seen again, until her husband, who actually only lost one arm and was not dead, came back. It was the anonymously watching Renato who told Signor Scordia about everything that happened since he left. And one day, everyone was surprised by Signor and Signora Scordia walking together arm in arm back to their home. Later, the very same women who initiated the public defamation of Malèna were the first ones to greet her in the market, testing her.

Renato watching her as she makes this change in her life

Her plight is a very sad one. Only Renato knew how much she loved and longed for her husband while she was away. And because she was not from their town, she had no friends. Her beauty was the cause of much envy, and stories evolved into something malignant, that she had to face court, only to be betrayed by someone whom she thought reciprocated her feelings as well. She was having a hard time getting even food since it was wartime, and so had to resort to using her body. It saddens me that men and women see the woman's body as something to use for pleasure. If she was beautiful and her husband was away, for sure she's getting it on with some man. Oh, she only had to look and she'd seduce one's husband. During her father's funeral, the men lined up to express their condolence while taking the chance to touch her. Nobody had a clue to her thoughts and feelings. Weighed down by convention and the restrictions of that period, she couldn't make a living for herself, relying instead on her pension, which was eventually cut off. And then, that's when she accepted what she had to do to live.

It reminded me a bit about Easy A someways into the film. Both had heroines who were ostracized because of the illusion of their being sex symbols, and the stories that defined and destroyed their lives. Malèna had to conform to the traditional image so that she would be accepted by the community. It was only when she walked arm in arm with her husband did the townspeople form a different opinion of her. In the market later on, it was only then that someone, the very same person who hurt her, greeted her in public. When she responded, it seemed she passed a test. The vendors then started talking to her, offering their cheaper produce, one even giving her a coat she was looking at for free.

I'm glad I didn't have to live during those times. The vicious nature of women, the lack of open-mindedness, the need to know and gossip about everyone in your community - it would be so horrible once you're the object and you have no one to turn to. Even though Renato started following her as part of his fantasies, his resourcefulness to see more of her allowed him a glimpse into a private life no one knew, which shaped much of his sensibilities as he changed from a boy to a young man, though not without exasperating his parents, especially his dad.

I did feel strongly for Bellucci's character. Even though beauty can get you somehwere, it still is only skin-deep and can lead to one's downfall. I'm glad her husband still wanted her back after everything that happened.

missing Fußball and surf

Sem's just started and I have once again proclaimed that I play Fußball in my classes, when in reality, I hardly do. But I've psyched myself to get back to it sometime before this sem started. Like I did when last sem also started, wherein I managed to put in a couple of appearances at trainings, before disappearing forever. Since I keep on saying it, and still finding time to sometimes look up related news, local or foreign, before disappearing from the loop again, that would mean I actually really like the thing. And I do. It's just that with everything that's happening, it seems better to rest your mind and body at times, rather than push them all through the weekend, up until the next workday comes around.

So I've this renewed zest. I hope I can keep this up. I've had two long weekends because of leaves approved which I had filed before to do something I've missed. Well, nothing became of my original plan. And I haven't been near the water since then. Tsk. Why did I think I should be working on November 1st, eh? I should've filed a leave for it as well and join the surf and music fest up north. I should really move near the beach. And have abs like this girl who was photographed surfing San Juan.

photo from https://www.facebook.com/surfing.sanjuan

So now, I'm craving for all that water and whatnot. Hay...

Stupid, procrastinating me. :(

another weird dream

Dreamt that I was in Batangas, where I had days ago planned to be on the invitation of a friend, who however, was not in the dream, but his girlfriend and my friend was. Dreamt that my teammates in the office were with me and it's another teambuilding we're on. Dreamt that I was in another production style floor, a la my first FT related job. Dreamt about two former, or shall we say, semi-current crushes. Weird, the associations! Indeed, that's how my dreams are ever since I've started remembering them.

thoughts from the bedlam

So this is how it feels like to not have to set your phone's alarm clock, to hopefully wake up to, some four hours after you've lain down; to not have to absorb all those information, exercising your brain cells to comprehend the logic and rules of the thing three hours a day four days a week; to reread Dune leisurely without a care of what else you're supposed to be doing (except maybe answering all those letters and postcards) and be truly excited that you're finally reading again, this time for pure pleasure...

You have all these unbidden thoughts swirling in your head and one just leads right to the other...

One day, you're reveling in the fact that it was Stiles's Katarina Stratford character in one of your favorite movies that got you into this whole non-conformist semi-feminist mode you've been in since, well, probably the first time you saw that movie and that love is a bad boy but sweet character, and a non-conformist like you, a la Heath's Pat Verona, who will break your heart at first, but who will eventually find the error of his ways because, well, he realizes he does love you and that his world won't be right without you.

And no matter how much of a non-conformist and an independent gal you think you are, do you think the world sees just how shallow or deep you've gone? For that matter, does the world really care? What have you really done to further that aspect of yourself? You're proud of that self-proclaimed label, but is that how others really perceive you? You claim to know a lot of things, but really, all the things you know just skim the surface of the topic... shallow, isn't it?

You say you want to do this, you want to be that... but have you done anything to be one step closer to achieving those? It's been years since you've determined to set out for those things. Isn't it high time that you're seeing results now?

You've prided yourself all this time about how much information your brain has accumulated and could retrieve at any point in time, excelling in general information in quiz bee categories back in elementary. It's true: knowledge is power. However, have you done anything to capitalize on all that knowledge? Even now, when you know what things you like to focus on and how you seem to understand the inner workings of and the external influences that affect certain stuff, have you ever had any impetus to put all those to good use for your development as a person, or even as a careerwoman? Well, impetus, yes; follow up actions, no.

It's seemed that you've just been content to ride the tides, doing as little as possible to stay afloat but still exist a bit comfortably compared to many. Too comfortable in fact that, even though reality shows you that brains and some personality alone don't get a guy, but all the efforts you muster for your appearance and equal amounts wiliness, you remain resolute and somehow content to let this moment in time pass by.

Despite knowing all this, still you remain, non-girlfriend material girl (yes, you've finally realized and admitted it), a bit oblivious, a bit naive, a bit idealistic, a bit unchanging, and a bit hopeful, all in almost equal measure.

my Battalia Royale 3 experience

our access passes which I got at Moonleaf Maginhawa

BR3 bandana - comes with the
suvival kit

September has been a whopping month of plays for me. I've never watched or will watch (Phantom of the Opera in t minus 3.5 hours) so many theater performances in a month. After September 2nd's hilarious Potted Potter ('One must live and the other shall die' voiced by Dumbledore a number of times, much to the despair of Harry and the chagrin of the audience, is FTW!), I managed to find a last minute companion in my sister last night for Sipat Lawin Ensemble and friends' rerun of a loose adaptation of the Japanese novel and film of roughly the same name: Battalia Royale 3.

When I came home from work after my Thursday shift, I had even thought about rewatching the film, just to refresh myself on the details. Well, once BR3 started, I realized I didn't have to. Though many of the subplots in the film were included in the play, I find that (even though I was awed by the film), the play was so much better because everything's much more raw. I can see the conflicts going on in the characters' faces, hear the emotion in their voices, see the nuances of their body language. The details of the characters' lives are also much more real since they're set locally, and these kids' lives are akin to what modern day high school teens are doing. They even have facebook profiles to boot!

BR3 ID-style access badge

They also made out the most of the grounds of Museo Pambata by utilizing different areas, and it's the audience who have to move around to see what's happening. At the beginning, we were split into three groups, hence, different groups of people witnessed different things. Towards the end, anybody could choose whichever they wanted to watch. If you have friends with you, it's better to split up so that you can talk about what you saw afterwards and fill each other in on what happened to the other characters. My sister had to leave early and so I didn't have any eyes on the others as I stayed by Julius, June and Lakhi in the Third Man story arc. I was particularly hooked on them because the class vice president Jessica was leading one group and she seemed straightforward and righteous enough that I didn't doubt she'll lead her companions towards the path she deems right. Now Sebastian Kiriyama on the other hand was a type of person I don't really like when I watch - the spoiled, rich, user-friendly type who most often speaks English (what's happening to Filipino youngsters, really?) and has a band of girls with violent tendencies following him. I did like the nerdy guy from the film who tried to deactivate the collars that broadcasts their location and would automatically kill them if there was no winner. He was also the class president and you know there's something between him and the girl the moment she entered their lair. Plus he was so serious at the beginning, promising himself that he will do anything to survive. Since they weren't so popular at the beginning, I stayed to witness what the bouncers called "Poledance Massacre." It was not so much of a massacre since there were only the other two and there was no pole, but the song did stick to me. The Nemeses arc was also very popular as Kakai cunningly almost made it to the end, making a mortal enemy out of Victor, who easily became an audience favorite. Victor also had a major fight scene with cute but a bit deranged Kalil, as they were both skilled in martial arts. With smoke machines and a well-choreographed battle, well, what's not to like? And everybody knew who to root for right away. And guess who won? The most righteous of them all, who at the very beginning made a stand that they would not participate in the game by not fighting, by trying to get out of it alive. One just has to make that choice in that split-second or else die in the hands of someone who has decided to play the game and win.

BR3 rules - heed!

The whole time, the audience is aware that they are spectators in the game. We were even given the choice to stop or continue with the game. And the audience almost unanimously voted to have one of the students live, only for Fraser Salaman, their teacher to shoot him as soon as he was released.

It's a good thing it was not raining. Different performances have different scorers - I believe tonight Brigada will be the one providing the live score - so it's definitely worth it to watch again. I'd also wanna watch again if only to know how the others were snuffed. It would be interesting to find out the circumstances that caused the others to finally kill their classmates. Or how only the three survived for the final showdown at the end *wink wink*.

A different viewing experience as the audience ran around the place, witnessing the effects of the pressure of knowing only one of you has to live after eight hours, gore and skin - I bet there's a lot to interest every boy and girl out there. It's rated NC-17 though. So check the age and fitness or tiredness level of the person you're bringing hehe. Side note: did see Manix Abrera and Miro of Stonefree among us.

[Edit: 09.25.2012 | 5:50 AM]

Here is a picture of Alab. It's his card that was included with the survival kit I bought. The survival kit contained a flashlight, a map of the grounds, a glowstick (which I lost somewhere) and a bandana. I never did see Alab. I found out from the PR person's tweet that he's in fact good in disguise. Him and Sophia - who apparently is popular in class -  make me want to see it again. Well, besides finding out how the Lighthouse and Kiriyama famillies were decimated, Alab included. [end of edit]

And is it just me or did the performers look like they could really look like genuine high school students? Does this mean I'm old enough to get to the point that I could see them that way? Haha.

Either way, it's only until next weekend. So when you're not doing anything more important tonight, or next week on Friday, Saturdays and Sunday, go buy tickets!

Ika nga ng Nazareth...

Drawn by Sofia Falkenhem
for her friend's collection of
love/horror stories,
check out her other
drawings at
http://sofiafalkenhem.blogspot.com

Love hurts.

Written in an hour (as soon as my shift started) late in 2011, if I remember correctly, whereafter the demands of work i.e., call volume, have rendered me unable to continue the relation of events which can be seen as fundamental to the understanding of the initial outburst of emotion, the following started out as a rant and soon became an attempt to use the misfortune into something that, with hope, may prove, no matter how far-fetched the idea may be, to be a suitable first foray (like all the other ideas I've thrown into the typewritten page) into the world of romance writing.

Some parts have been re-worded or rewritten for better reading, and while the inconsistency in voice in the fourth paragraph can be immediately corrected, I chose to let that part remain unchanged to somehow highlight the strength of emotion I had while writing those lines.

Let the heartbreak begin...

***

Heto na naman siya. Nakatunganga, nakatigin sa kawalan. Hindi namamalayan ang paglipas ng oras. Or to put it more correctly, nakikita niya ang pagpalit ng oras mula alas-tres, alas-kwatro, alas-singko hanggang alas-sais na ng gabi pero hindi niya ito iniinda. Oo, nasasayang ang oras, pero hindi niya makuhang ibaling ang atensyon sa mga mas importanteng bagay - sa paksang kailangang aralin para sa pagsusulit bukas, sa paghahanda para sa bakaysong matagal na niyang inaasam-asam. Pero kahit para sa huli ay ni hindi man lang niyang makuhang maging excited.

Kasabay ng pag-eemo moment niya ngayon ay naka-loop ang tila theme song ng kanyang pag-eemo. 'Nasubukan mo na bang matulog nang bigo sa pag-ibig,' tanong ni Alicia Keys. Kasama ang mabigat na bagsak ng mga beats at ang madramang melodiya - perpekto ito para sa nararamdaman niya ngayon, na nararamdaman niya dati pa pero napagdesiyunan na niyang wag na 'to isipan pa muli; na ang pagsisimula ng bagong buhay ay ang pagkalimot sa isang pangit na karanasan.

Pero sa emosyon, madalas talo ka. Natuklasan niya ito sa ilang ulit nang pag-betray sa kanya ng mga emosyon kahit ano pa man ang sabihin ng kanyag utak. Kapag nagsimula nang mamuo ang mga punla ng depresyon, tuluy-tuloy na yan. Hindi na niya mapipigilan ang pulso ng damdamin. At kadalasan ngayon, simula ng mga pangyayaring ngayo'y gumugulo na naman sa kanya, ang kanyang pagkalungkot ay umiikot sa kawalan ng iniibig. Kung bakit ba naman kasi kinailangan pa niyang pumasok sa buhay niya nang ganun diba? Wala siyang ganitong problema dati, kasi nga nbsb nga naman. Wala ring nanliligaw. Kaya ayos lang, masaya ang buhay. Kapag na-depress ay sarili lang ang kailangang sisihin. Tungkol lang naman dati sa purpose niya sa buhay ang ikinadi-depress niya. Ngayon, iba nang anggulo. May iba nang dimensyon ang kanyang pagkalungkot. Pumapalibot na rin sa isa pang tao. Nakakainis lang. Sa ilang buwan nang nakalipas, di pa rin niya maiwaksi ang mga nangyari at ang mga damdaming itinago lang niya. Pathetic, iniisip niya, to pine over one guy when there are so many others around. Ano bang meron sa kanya?

it's just ... taking me over

I knew. The moment I saw that flash of black in my peripheral vision, I knew - like how I knew I'll be safe everytime I go home at ungodly hours. I was that sure. I had half a mind to turn to you just to ascertain as you walked past, but I stopped myself, because I already knew. And because... well, just because. So the first time we talked in weeks, the few times in which we do are nowadays limited to work, my mind was saying ha! that one sentence, that brief touch on your shoulder and the smell of his cologne, ha! you said you were done with him? now look who's talking.

I did say I was finally over with the whole brouhaha over you some posts ago, but those few seconds of attention directed at me, with the slightest of personal touches - all the non-interaction, almost-cold-shoulder brush-offs of weeks past are relegated to the smallest compartment in the back of my mind to hide it all away, allowing me to revel once more in the feelings you used to incite, and it seems, still continue to incite, with not much effort on your part.

Gaah...Who'd have thought you're as ingrained in me as my propensity to follow rules or procrastinate endlessly?  It was only when I got home that I realized its implications. In the old place where it all began, I could see you, albeit not full body and most times just the back of your head, and even with that limitation, there were telltale signs I've learned through the months for me to be sure it was you. Every passing head looking like yours - I'd lock in on that spot and I'd know as soon as I gaze at it whether it's you or not.  Now, there's not much opportunity for looking. And yet, you passing the aisle, or even through our bay with my back to you - am I really that conditioned and tuned in? Forget conditioned. How could I, without seeing, be certain?

Mind-boggling. Though I've long ago done away with all the thoughts that used to accompany you, this one encounter brought back the lovely feelings of the past. One-sided and self-propagated they may have been, they are the incentive by which I believe people pursue love, a feeling everyone is entitled to, that everyone deserves to experience at least once and that someday, I will also find one who will let me feel those permanently or if not, for a long, long time.

sunsets and nostalgia

Finally had the time to just sit by the Sunken Garden and do nothing yesterday - after coming in late to my Italian class and just generally disappointing myself all over again with the way I've been handling it, and then followed by a particularly entertaining "Was bin ich von Beruf?" (What am I as a Job?) game in our German class (Herr Lehrer was in his element as Quizmeister, even providing the needed sound effects woot!) where my teammates BJ, Jam and I came out tied for 2nd, this after being comfortably nestled on top for a while during the earlier part of the game.

I didn't want to stay at the shop where I used to work at and where I'm still welcome, since it's another air-conditioned environment with computers - which is where I am for forty-something hours a week, all the while dedicating some more hours to the laptop when I'm at home. So when I'm at the PC shop, I can't help but be drawn to the net-connected PC so I decided to just stay by the Sunken to do some review of notes and/or the finals I just received. I did start out by noticing the hurried way I answered my and then later on went over my answers to the exam. It was evident in the lack of needed verbs and misspelling a certain pronoun because I've confused it with another noun. And then I read through a list of Italian verbs that require certain prepositions. This still didn't help me with my predicament though. All the while, I was listening to Jam since it's Friday Slide (my favorite radio program) and learned that a woman has successfully ended her life in the LRT Line 1 EDSA Station. She is the 24th attemptee I believe and, I was surprised to find out, the 10th who successfully did. I was immediately reminded by the remade Wall Street where Shia LeBouf's mentor does exactly that - reading the papers in a cafe on a seemingly ordinary day and then setting off for the subway, meandering through the throng of people and stepping into the train's path as soon as he got there - when everything he worked for suddenly failed. This happened at 5:50 AM the other day. All I'm left is wonder at would drive someone to end her life in such a manner. Last snippet I heard from the radio is that she hasn't been identified yet.


The Sunken Garden was actually a bit to my right. I was sitting in one of the benches in front of PHAN  (Palma Hall Annex) so my view was actually that of the huge tree obstructing one's view of the Bulwagan ng Dangal, which was in front of (or depending on one's perspective, to the side of) the Main Library. And I just let myself look at that tree - some of its leaves on its left side, and some a bit more in front, illuminated by the fading sun. You know all the leaves are the same color, but with the vantage point and light direction you're given, it's like some of it is more alive, and some are duller. Joyce (who arrived a bit later on) was right in pointing out that it looked like a forest. I agreed, I've been thinking the same thing, like it was a tree in the forest in the Lord of the Rings. That's how majestic the whole scene came to me then. I wanted to take a picture of it, but I knew the gadget I use for a camera wouldn't capture the interplay of light and colors, so I just let myself gaze at it, somehow committing it to memory.

I just sat there all through the rest of the afternoon, until the sun finally faded and all I'm seeing is the dark green of the trees. And somehow, a sense of my younger years in the university was coming over me.


There was a time when I was still somehow fresh out of UP (as late as last year in fact) that the image that comes to my mind when I think back to my college days is of wide open verdant spaces. In all my years in and out of buildings, classrooms and laboratories, the impressions that seem to have stuck to me are the times I was out of my classes. And of these, the, let's say, memorable ones were those I spent under the hot sun, rainy skies and the newly-cut, though many times unkempt, grasses of the Sunken Garden, with people I somehow considered as family, doing the thing we all love, staying together until after everything's done with and coming together to do that three or four times a week. Yes, we did and we were all somehow addicted, coming and yearning for it all throughout those times when we had exams and what-nots which hindered us from going.

Yesterday, as the day wound down and people were jogging around the Oval (like what I had planned on doing), the impressions were a bit different. For one, it was only then that I was able to witness once again the turning of day into night. These days, I'm inside the four walls of the production floor when the sun finally gives way to the moon. The fact that I was in UP while I was witnessing this brought me back to my first undergrad days (yes m'dears, I'm on my so-called second undergrad/college days at the moment). At first, it seemed like the times back in my first year when I'd go to my then, only, org's tambayan after classes and we'd just sit and talk, and later on, we'd go somewhere to drink or watch gigs - cramming all of these in time for curfew (which I had for five years!). I guess it was about that as well, since when I get home, there's nothing to do since I wasn't overly friendly with my landlady's family, only had my space in the room, didn't have a computer at that time, and it was either I read, talk to my roommates or sleep. My college days were in fact, the only time that I've stayed out of my sleeping space long after the sun has set for in our house back home, I didn't grow up doing that. Even when I was in highschool, I was usually making my way home immediately when there were no org or practices or meetings that needed to be done when classes ended. And my stepping into UP gave me that one big dose of freedom. One helluva huge dose indeed. Then I realized later on that this whole feeling was also probably connected to the days spent in that space called the Sunken Garden, once my most favorite spot in the whole of UP. I've recounted what we used to do then; it may be connected to what I was feeling.

But before I could fully bring back the impressions from the past, I had to move. With that, the fleeting sense that it's about to reveal itself was gone. I could've held on to the feeling a bit more, and subsequently basked in its full memory, if I stayed still a bit longer, but somehow, everything is not in sync. So I'm writing this to commemorate that afternoon when I somehow went back to the nostalgic feeling of my youth.

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Joyce told me yesterday as well about Sir MonRa and RA Rivera's Tales from the Friend Zone project. Friend zone is a term I've been reading almost everywhere just recently. Is it because of this project and a few others like it? Anyhow, the second video was what I could relate to the most.

Takeaways which ring true:

- why one becomes expectant, i.e. bakit umaasa (girl's POV): girl may not be used to having kind, sweet and/or handsome boys who befriend her so that the first one who comes along and is just that, she starts to think there's something. So yes, as girls have observed, when he doesn't say anything, it's nothing. Don't overthink.

- lower one's expectations because as MonRa explains, that "0.0001 na pag-asa na yan, or otherwise known as malisya, ay nagiging germ at lumalaki nang lumalaki dahil sa imahinasyon natin at sa pagnanasa na maging tunay na pag-ibig yan..." WELL SAID.


So...

Happy -ber months! Potted Potter is on in a little while. Tschuß!