Tuesday, June 12, 2012

A Song For You




I love this version of Mr. Hathaway. Really nice.


I've been so many places in my life and time
I've sung a lot of songs I've made some bad rhyme
I've acted out my love in stages
With ten thousand people watching
But we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

I know your image of me is what I hope to be
I've treated you unkindly but darlin' can't you see
There's no one more important to me
Darlin' can't you please see through me
Cause we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

You taught me precious secrets of the truth withholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you

You taught me precious secrets of the truth withholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you

We were alone and I was singing this song for you

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

The Opposite Of Loneliness

As I was browsing the net earlier, I found this article and felt compelled to share it to my readers (if there's any).


The piece below was written by Marina Keegan '12 (Yale University) for a special edition of the News distributed at the class of 2012's commencement exercises last week. Keegan died in a car accident on Saturday. She was 22.

We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I could say that’s what I want in life. What I’m grateful and thankful to have found at Yale, and what I’m scared of losing when we wake up tomorrow and leave this place.

It’s not quite love and it’s not quite community; it’s just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team. When the check is paid and you stay at the table. When it’s four a.m. and no one goes to bed. That night with the guitar. That night we can’t remember. That time we did, we went, we saw, we laughed, we felt. The hats.
Yale is full of tiny circles we pull around ourselves. A cappella groups, sports teams, houses, societies, clubs. These tiny groups that make us feel loved and safe and part of something even on our loneliest nights when we stumble home to our computers — partner-less, tired, awake. We won’t have those next year. We won’t live on the same block as all our friends. We won’t have a bunch of group-texts.

This scares me. More than finding the right job or city or spouse – I’m scared of losing this web we’re in. This elusive, indefinable, opposite of loneliness. This feeling I feel right now.
But let us get one thing straight: the best years of our lives are not behind us. They’re part of us and they are set for repetition as we grow up and move to New York and away from New York and wish we did or didn’t live in New York. I plan on having parties when I’m 30. I plan on having fun when I’m old. Any notion of THE BEST years comes from clichéd “should haves...” “if I’d...” “wish I’d...”

Of course, there are things we wished we did: our readings, that boy across the hall. We’re our own hardest critics and it’s easy to let ourselves down. Sleeping too late. Procrastinating. Cutting corners. More than once I’ve looked back on my High School self and thought: how did I do that? How did I work so hard? Our private insecurities follow us and will always follow us.
But the thing is, we’re all like that. Nobody wakes up when they want to. Nobody did all of their reading (except maybe the crazy people who win the prizes…) We have these impossibly high standards and we’ll probably never live up to our perfect fantasies of our future selves. But I feel like that’s okay.

We’re so young. We’re so young. We’re twenty-two years old. We have so much time. There’s this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lay alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out – that it is somehow too late. That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. That it’s too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.

When we came to Yale, there was this sense of possibility. This immense and indefinable potential energy – and it’s easy to feel like that’s slipped away. We never had to choose and suddenly we’ve had to. Some of us have focused ourselves. Some of us know exactly what we want and are on the path to get it; already going to med school, working at the perfect NGO, doing research. To you I say both congratulations and you suck.

For most of us, however, we’re somewhat lost in this sea of liberal arts. Not quite sure what road we’re on and whether we should have taken it. If only I had majored in biology…if only I’d gotten involved in journalism as a freshman…if only I’d thought to apply for this or for that…
What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over. Get a post-bac or try writing for the first time. The notion that it’s too late to do anything is comical. It’s hilarious. We’re graduating college. We’re so young. We can’t, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it’s all we have.

In the heart of a winter Friday night my freshman year, I was dazed and confused when I got a call from my friends to meet them at EST EST EST. Dazedly and confusedly, I began trudging to SSS, probably the point on campus farthest away. Remarkably, it wasn’t until I arrived at the door that I questioned how and why exactly my friends were partying in Yale’s administrative building. Of course, they weren’t. But it was cold and my ID somehow worked so I went inside SSS to pull out my phone. It was quiet, the old wood creaking and the snow barely visible outside the stained glass. And I sat down. And I looked up. At this giant room I was in. At this place where thousands of people had sat before me. And alone, at night, in the middle of a New Haven storm, I felt so remarkably, unbelievably safe.

We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I’d say that’s how I feel at Yale. How I feel right now. Here. With all of you. In love, impressed, humbled, scared. And we don’t have to lose that.

We’re in this together, 2012. Let’s make something happen to this world.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

A Very Late Post; Took a Year Before Published

It's possibly the thing with having no work that makes me a bit sentimental nowadays (read--> sister: blech) or is it just that I am innately sentimental myself that I needed no "prodding" to get in touch with my inner moody alter ego (read--> me:puke)

But whatever it is that made me turn into the PC and have my lit self flaring, thank you very much. Hallelujah! I have not written anything since ages and I must admit it is not because of lack of anything to say; I do have lots to say to lots of things but just lack the initiative to do so. But anyhow, I am back (hopefully) and ready to kick it again. But now to business...

I am once again jobless (read--> mom: get the hell out of here!). Haha! Somehow, no matter how excited I was in every start, I always find a reason to leave. Escape artist? Perhaps.



*******************************************************************************
The early demise of the actor AJ Perez made me wonder: what the hell am I doing in my life. I will not go on pretending that I have lots to say about the above actor--him being a good person blah blah blah. I hardly know him and to be honest I think the whole thing was blown up that I guess his passing was turned into something commercial that I felt some sympathy to his poor soul. Why can't he just rest in peace? But anyway, this isn't about him or my stupid opinion about his death so..

Well, if you could easily snuff out of it like in a bat of an eyelid,  you will cherish every second of your life. But what the fuck am I doing leaping from job to job? Am I destined to flail ungracefully? Is this something that builds up into high crescendo where everything blows up to my face and I cannot know what had hit me? And before I can say 'Crap', it's all gone. Nada.

Perhaps floating in space is hell lot more acceptable than to wander penniless in the streets, eh?

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Novak Is My Guy!

I had never been a tennis aficionado as I have immersed myself greatly with badminton and is still hopelessly in love with it. But recent happenings has blown my mind and kindled a new passion for the sports, tennis that is.
I arrived home late and went straight to the fridge and grab one of the six-packs. As I turned the TV on, I began channel surfing and silently contemplated as to how stupid the shows being aired were that time and fondled the remote for quite some time. After few minutes of switching channels, I came across the coverage of the then on-going  Australian open and the match was between Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic (Men’s Singles Semis). And, from then on, it was more than two hours of intense and excellent tennis.
 The game lasted for five grueling sets (it was third when I switched the TV on) of physical and mental intensity. Both guys deserved to win, that much I could say. I was initially rooting for Murray as he was the underdog (being #4 in the world) but as the match progressed, I sincerely believed that Djokovic was the better guy and he would prevail at the end. And he did. It was tough and yet he did. So he advanced for the finals and would be meeting Rafael Nadal, The King of Clay who beat Roger Federer in the semis.
Forty-eight hours later, it was a humid Melbourne night. Temperature was around 31˚C (88˚F) and everybody in Rod Laver Arena  is pretty tense and anxiously waiting for the match to start. Djokovic was the first to serve. Wow, and it was almost, yet again, five hours of intense physical prowess and mental fortitude. Five matches, twice they deuced and at the latter part of the final set, two crucial errors by Nadal made the difference. And Novak won. My guy won!
It was fun watching the game. My housemate and I had this little bet as she was rooting for Nadal (I think she finds him cute, that’s why). Thrash talk cannot be helped but uttered. For the love of the game, I say.
After the match was won, again just like in the semis, he, Novak lied on the court and took his shirt off. It was evident he was happy that he won the title (and the 103 MP that comes with it). But what really struck me the most was that he made the sign of the cross, thrice at that, showing that he believes in the existence of a Supreme Being. I admire that he acknowledges that without intervention from whoever God he believes in, he could not have won. It only shows the moral fiber he has as well. And for that I idolizes him more.
Maybe I was just riding the bandwagon. Maybe I was just taking on the hype. But I know one thing for sure. Novak, truly, is my guy! 

Sunday, December 18, 2011

That GG sh!t

While I was lazily browsing the net, I saw an article about the recent Golden Globe nominations. As I excitedly scroll the bar up and down to look for the Best Comedy Actor Category, I was caught by surprise to find no "Jim Parsons" on the list. What was even more surprising was seeing "Johnny Galecki" on the roster. I mean, with all due respect, Galecki is one funny guy but Parsons is way way better. I was surprise the critics favored the former over the latter.

Other notable snubs are Melissa McCarthy <Mike and Molly>, Ty Burrell <Modern Family> and Sofia Vergara <Modern Family>. What's happening, really?

Monday, July 11, 2011

Anticipating

I would just like to keep it to myself.

But the anticipation is killing me.

“Perfect match” what does it mean? I don’t know either. But my heart is going to explode with so much tension.

Does she mean what I think she mean?

Oh crap, I got to take this slow. Freaking out is really my thing.

The last one had been terrible, lasted only a month or so.

The one before that, three months. She was way above my radar. She’s smart, funny and beautiful not to add an heiress to a building and construction empire. Plus she’s Chinese. So when she asked me to come and be introduced to her parents, yeah I chickened out.

I would like to say I freaked out, though. I felt she’s too smothering… I cannot breathe. But that was just me, being chicken I guess.

The same goes with the one before that and the one before, oh I lost count.

‘What  is frickin’ wrong with me?’ I thought

I think I have a serious commitment issue, so I realized I need to take a step back and deconstruct and reconstruct myself. It’s almost a year now since I was last in a relationship. I dated a few but you know.

Then there she goes…

With her wit and her charm and her smile, frickin’ God, why do you so hate me?

She’s so out of my league and yet, subtle hints like “we’re perfect match”, or “hinihintay nya lang ako” would be thrown my way.

What’s her ploy? I dunno. Or is there any ploy at all? Maybe I am just assuming

What’s my plan? Nada, zilch, nothing, wala.

I just want to take things slow. If this is something, let it blossom into something. I would not like her or me to freak out.

I want this to be perfect.

I want this to be beautiful. So no rush.  Just let it be.

If we’re supposed to be together, yeah we will be. I just don’t want to pre-empt things.

But hell, I am dying of anticipation.