Movie Thursdate

So my Arki buddies and I watched One More Chance last Thursday.

It was an hour and a half film but we watched it for two whole hours. David had to pause the film every time he made a side comment. But we can’t feign innocence either. Every now and then, one of us would bash the characters’ wardrobe, or their hairstyles, or the plot holes, and especially how wrong they got the architecture-related shenanigans. Halfway through the movie, we decided not to make a big deal out of each detail we see, else we won’t be able to finish it.

It was an hour and half film, and an overrated one at that. But spontaneously watching it with close friends made the experience much more special. We sprawled over the corridor in front of the library, occasionally blocking passers-by. Anna was cuddling over David who sat beside Donna whom I was lying in front of, while having Isabel lean on my stomach. I think we unknowingly created an innovation to the whole couch-potato-ing experience.

It was an hour and a half film but during the two whole hours, I had been wishing that he was with us, watching.

Video

Passes, Delayed Gratification and the Fox

You said passes were invented to prove that there are no dead ends in life, that there will always be a choice and sometimes, that choice is tantamount to having none. This kind of passing up on something is not brought about by indecision, but by the fact that there’s no feasible solution yet to a certain predicament.

I used to deem this as rather passive aggressive. I’d rather grab life by the balls than have mine kicked into smithereens (not that I have one, literally). However, recent events have taught me the virtue of patience and how delayed gratification makes all the waiting worth it. What I cringe at is the degree of uncertainty. Waiting for something does not guarantee that it would belong to you in the long run.

On the lighter side of things, Japhet found the Fox song of Sir Chua. You see, every now and then, the attendance sheet in our Structurals class features random questions and yes or no scenarios. One time, he asked us what did the fox say. I never thought it actually had a reference, a hilarious one at that!

I’m having a hard time imagining Sir Chua enjoying this type of music.

Sounds

I’d rather go deaf from the blasting music than hear all the mindless bickering, banging of doors and slamming of all the other things. Every loud thudding sound crushes my heart, my soul little by little. Is this the price I’m going to pay for all the euphoria I savored for the past few weeks?

I keep remembering that one lunch with a colleague’s family in Pampanga. The sumptuous meal paled in comparison to the warmth of their mirth and of their sincere intent to listen to each other’s anecdotes.

And I sit here, wondering if the pumping machine inside my chest gets smaller, even just infinitesimally, every time I experience this kind of strain. That’s Structurals for ‘ya. Now, give her (him) love.

(Mis)Interpretation

I abhor the fact that a certain action or statement may be interpreted (in this case, misinterpreted) in a truck load of ways. A smile is a movement of muscles in reaction to a positive stimuli. A glance is a hurried look at a subject. A touch is a physical contact. A late night out is a mere hang out with friends. Why brand these things with classic translations that are really out of character?

But I’m also personally guilty of this habit. I also distort the random events and little habits, and broadcast a skewed perspective of basic reality. Trust me, I’m not afraid of telling the truth, but I’m not always totally honest. Even then, what right do I have to ask for something I do not give? What have I done to deserve the facts when I withhold information?

I usually enjoy deconstructing the mentality of others. I’d bask at how I would step out of the crowd and label individuals appropriately with legit proof and proper citation, and even find more joy whenever I confirm my assumptions. But lately, it has been nothing but exhausting.

Even I do not know what I want. But if I stopped with the mind games, will you stop putting words in my mouth? I guess not.

Counting

I capped my pen as I had willingly accepted my defeat. The intellectual conundrum brought about by our structurals class was so out of my league that I sought consolation through the thought of handing over an unfinished paper. “At least, it’s over,” that’s what I said to myself.

Isabel, who was a few seats away, was agitated by my lack of resolve. She told me that I could do better than simply succumbing to my defeatist attitude. She may not know it but during that moment, she helped reestablish my composure through the mere guarantee of an exercise’s completion.

You see, it’s the little everyday stuff like this that matters. They seem insignificant at first, but after an exhausting day, these same subtle memories will be the ones to perk me up, like finally relinquishing old, pesky habits or having one’s crush run his fingers through one’s hair.

(I know the last paragraph’s a bit awkwardly written. But I put it there anyway since I wanted to shout to the world having HIM run his fingers through my hair made my day. It was a soft touch with an electric feel; the most magical feeling in the world. And yes, it’s the hormonal teenage girl side of me that’s talking right now.)

Honesty and Convenience

Why do people say things out of mere convenience? The world would be a much better place if people were more honest. Let me start.

There was this one time when my father came home from work. His limbs were bruised and from the way he limped, you could tell that he was really hurting. He asked my mother what he was supposed to do to the motorcycle rider who caused his injuries. But she only scoffed at him, going aggro about how he much relied on her in every decision he made. Boy, do I totally get the point now. Their marriage is nothing but a flimsy sheet of fucking scratch paper, leaving me scared shitless that my future won’t be any better. I wanted to tell her he didn’t deserve that but I wasn’t able to muster up enough courage.

When my best friend was recuperating from her old wounds of lost love and of loved one’s death, I was there for her. Now that she’s happier, I feel like I’m only an option, that I’m not as wanted as much as she needed me before. I could say this to her, but I fear the fighting that would follow will only put unnecessary stress on both of us. She said she missed me but I beg to differ.

I wish Kuya Renz would stop smoking. He’s like an older brother to me and I don’t want to him suffer the perils of succumbing to that vice the same way my father did.

I thought I found my new flame. But I’m having doubts because of his similarity with Adrian. I don’t want to lead anyone on when even I’m unsure of what I want.

I’m getting tired of receiving the shorter hand at everything. I’d love to resist but I fear the possibility of becoming more selfish in the long run.

I care about what people think of me more than I think I do.

This is the reason why people say things out of mere convenience. The world won’t be a much better place if people were more honest. I’m finished.