What the hell Happened?

Posted 04/18/2004
ecila…walks through cubao, mrt rides, out of this world conversations,
fete dela musique, amelie, dancer, funky fashion, cute, shangrila,
intelligent, affectionate, true, pondering child, wandering child,
a burst of energy that cannot be kept still, blue/green hair that hardly grew,
mysteriously warm eyes…
miss you alice:D

so that’s what happens when people disappear off the face of friendster: they lose their names and their faces but leave remnants online before they retreat into the dust and falling debris of the real world. i like this testimonial, not because it feeds my fastidious ego, but because almost none of it holds true anymore. (i also like the fact that it was posted a couple of days before mikey came into my life.)

sure there are still walks through cubao, but it’s hardly even the same cubao anymore. and unless mikey’s bullshitting me, there won’t even be a fete de la musique this june. my dvd of amelie has long disappeared and i haven’t stepped in a dance studio in more than a year.
but what makes me sad about this is that i’ve been standing still and weighed down–by what? it’s too cliche if i say “life” or “reality”– since this was written. it makes me sad to cross out “burst of energy that cannot be kept still.”
as much as i miss those times when this testimonial was last true, i know those times aren’t coming back, even if i dye my hair blue and start taking ballet again. we’ve all slowly evolved into different people and very little about my life today reminds me of high school. but if it weren’t for things like this, high school would have had a much shorter shelf life.
i guess i can be happy that my hair is back to its natural color and has a grown a bit, only for me to chop it all off again.

The Man is a Genius

(Untitled [1965] Ralph Eugene Meatyard)

I’d like to be painfully obsessed with something, to have something that I could compare with breathing (besides breathing itself).
I’m no Buddhist. I’d want my heart to break if certain things are taken away from me, material or otherwise. Really break. It changes the way you see things, the way you live life, the ease or unease that bears itself upon you each day. I’d like something purposeful to invest in. I used to think it was dance, then it became music, then photography; then i realized it was nothing, really. And that’s what broke my heart. All these things in which I find so much purpose are so fleeting, their value so arbitrary and forgettable. I didn’t like the idea of being anal-retentive and undisciplined with a short attention span.

But that’s why we record things, because they’re bound to leave us at some point. My dad had a thick photo album specially made for him by his parents when he was in college. It was bound in blue leather and had his name embossed on the cover. When my dad would see me leafing through it, he’d make sure to tell me flat out that what I was looking at weren’t photos or report cards or certificates, it was all (in his words) “Your Papa’s bullshit,” which is a pretty nasty thing to say to a 7-year-old, it’s not right to encourage unhealthy levels of cynicism for small, naive and impressionable people.
It took a while before I realized how wonderful it was that someone else thought my dad’s records were worth preserving, that it was worth it to dignify his memories with bound leather and layers of parchment, before it all turned into “bullshit”.

The Hungarian word for “photograph” directly translates into “to make it last forever,” a verb.
So I guess if I were Hungarian, I could say I’m taking a photograph, and in the same breath say I’m adding substance to memory, or simply, remembering.

Old Routes

i have 5 minutes to get this down before i head off to math class. math 11 take 2. lovely.

i had an interesting conversation with my favorite kamuning-fairview route jeepney driver. the same driver who offered to drop me off right in front of my gate when i fell asleep on my way home and was the only passenger left. \

after the prerequisite “kamusta ka na? musta valentine’s mo?” he asks me

jeepney driver man: anong year ka na ba? 3rd year college?
me: first year po
jdm: laki mong babae ah!
me: sa ateneo po maliit lang ako, anlalaki ng mga tao dun eh. *grrr*
jdm: girlfriend ko dati ang tangkad, 5’7…ganito lang kami
*he holds up his pinky and his ring finger*
jdm: grabe naka 11 years na di ko pa siya nakakalimutan.
me: sino ba yung nakipagbreak (usi na kung usi)
jdm: siya
me: di na kayo nagkita ulit?
jdm: pumunta siya ng maynila. second year college pa lang ako nun, sa probinsya, ayun. muntikan na akong magpakamatay. nawalan ako ng gana para mag-aral. pero nakaraos din, ayun, 11 years na.
me: siya po ba yung pinunta nyo dito?
jdm: oo. 11 years nang paikot-ikot sa rota na ito, di ko pa rin mahanap. siguro may asawa na at anak. siguro di niya ako makikilala kapag nakita niya ako. 11 years na eh.
me: baka nag-iba siya ng anyo.