New Love, Young Love

Upon catching up with what’s up and what’s hot on the big screen, I realized that my taste in movies have changed through time. I used to go for the teeny-flicks that are light to digest. However, lately, I’ve been so tied up with those that are for grown-ups and about grown-ups. I would, most of the time, catch myself picking a story about a marriage than about a new, young love on a stockpile of pirated dvds along the streets.

It’s maybe because I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the future, to my future. I like to think how it would be like to be married.

Growing up, I’ve seen my parents’ marriage as normal. I don’t remember waking up in the middle of the night to witness them yelling and screaming at each other. I don’t even remember my dad not coming home at night except on business trips. Sure, they have had misunderstandings but that’s pretty much it. I didn’t see them undergoing through a major mess.

Watching these movies about married people though (like Jane Austen’s Book Club, Feast of Love), I realized that marriage is not at all easy. Seeing my parents’ marriage as a success shouldn’t make me complacent that I would have a successful one too. It may be concealed to us, but they have had as well invested a great deal to stay together for 34 years now.

But then, as someone who likes to think fast forward time, I think I know exactly how to keep a marriage, and how to keep it burning. Feeling the same fervor to one person for years is no easy thing. It is not effortless too; you have to learn the trick. You have to preserve and keep doing the things that have always made you so hooked on each other. Yet, you should also learn and try new things together. Always renew a love that would make you feel young again, and you’ll realize you cannot get enough of each other.

I met him 1 year and 8 months ago. Since then, we see each other on a daily basis but the feeling just grows more and more intense day by day. The love always feels so new and young, and I know, for the following years, we will remain inseparable.

Short Notice

This latest movie I watched, Dedication, really got me thinking.

I have a thing for writers in movies and even in books.

Writers are publicized as incredibly profound, interestingly sensitive, awkwardly mushy, and weirdly beautiful.

I have to attest that in real life, they are. Or at least, the one I got.=)

Keeping my Hopes Up-High

Here’s to hoping that tomorrow when I wake up, the sun would finally shine upon me.

I have never been this stressed and exhausted my whole life. I have never been this occupied. My body and mind are both very much used up during the day and night, yet, there are still things left unfinished, left untouched even.

My eyes are wide open for, God knows how many days or weeks already. Tonight’s actually the first time of the week that I’ll be spending the night in my dorm room again. I am always either in the newsroom pressing my brain cells to come up with a decent lead for the feature article, or, I am in my classmate’s apartment and still discharging concerns and matters about having to publish our newspaper on time. And, the way we deal with the tension, which is eating non-stop, isn’t doing any good. I gained more than a couple of kilos. But of course, that should be the least of my worries now.

I feel terrible, up to the point of needing to shed some tears. Is it supposed to be this hard? I mean, does it really have to get to a point wherein I would be having no choice but to give up one thing for the other? I have deadlines to beat tomorrow. Sadly, I would not be able to pass the most important of all, which is one part of my thesis proposal. As much as I am willing to miss a few hours of sleep for that, I still would not be able to do it.

But then again, this entry is not supposed to be all rants and raves. Here’s still to hoping that tomorrow when I wake up, I’ll be in good sense again.

This too shall pass, and I’ll be forever carrying with me all the lessons learned during this roughest time (so far) of my life.

Wanna Switch Lives?

I have been avoiding writing lately. I have been doing anything to get away from it. Writing has been the cause of my muddled life right now. Or perhaps, not writing it is.

Very soon, I am about to pass my Review of Related Literature, but I haven’t read any related literature yet, or any literature at all. I avoid libraries and reading rooms; they’re suffocating. Being in one makes me feel like I’m fenced in a dark, tiny, awful-smelling box. If it compares to the feeling of being trapped in a grand toy chest, then I could put up with it; I could probably bear trading my little world called coffee shop to spend some time exploring that toy chest.

My other problem is I haven’t the faintest itch to write my story for our biggest project in my major subject. I am to write something about climate change. Heck, it’s freakish. I have been thinking of a different angle to make it an attention-grabbing kind of article. How am I supposed to do that? Not a part of my interests leans into that or into anything like that. I have no other choice though. I need to do it, but I need to want to do it first.

I’m a year to getting hold of that college diploma. Everything should be in shipshape by now.

BUT NO.

One Take

We are often asked whether we would accept if given a chance to turn back time, not that it is possible, but you know, just for the heck of it. Surprisingly, all the others would not bow to it. Whenever I read or hear such response, it makes me wonder because I am one of those few who would willingly agree to wind back in many points in time.

I would take all chances to ace that exam, to dump that guy, to accept that opportunity, to say that thing hanging on my mind, or to shut my mouth. I would erase everything undesirable and take in all the enviable. I would arrange all things to my advantage, and for the triumph of my life plans.

Did their lives turn out to be so perfect that they did not need to change a single thing? Or did their lives come out as how they wanted them to be even if they did not always do the right things?

Then, I guess I'm damned...and doomed.

I always wish life can be more like a movie. You know, because you can always go back to every scene and cut the unwanted, up to how many repetition is needed until a scene becomes flawless so it won’t do harm to the movie as a whole.

In real life, we can’t do that. The times passed can never be reclaimed. Sadly, I am living no movie, and I am living the real life instead. I have to make every scene clean and perfect the first time, or watch it passes right in from of me, faulty and flawed.

In real life, there’s no extra roll of film; we should learn the script, by heart.

Biggie Deal

Weight has been really an unbelievably big deal for women. Blame it on the media; media is such a mind control.

I used to not give a shit to my weight. I did not care whether my uniforms would need repairs and adjustments due to some inches picked. I did not care whether people could see my flab shaking for my slightest moves like waving an arm or even lifting it. But now, I’m afraid I’m one of those women who are left with no other choice but resist the curse of being fat.

I still don’t want to be a Nicole Richie or an Olsen twin, but when family and friends start picking on my weight, I just get annoyed. Sometimes, even people I hardly know would detect that I have really reaped some pounds. How much more annoying is that?

I was miserable, that no Tyra Banks could make me feel pleased about myself, and my weight for the most part. So, I would start depriving and starving myself from the moment I wake up. Though, at the end of the day, I would dine all I want without caring whether I would gain twice as much.

Now, it gets me thinking. Do I feel miserable because I’m fat, or because people say I’m fat?

Speechless

Finding myself in a situation wherein I am asked of what I think and feel about an issue and not giving any satisfactory answer is not funny anymore.

I know I do not own a superb and beautiful mind. But, there are a lot of things that keep on running, circling it, all the time. I always have my very own arguments about almost every issue. Then, when I am already asked, I cannot seem to articulate them. That’s why I end up emerging as one of those apathetic and spoon-fed people.

I cannot seem to give straight answers to people, yet it doesn’t mean that I am thoughtless and uninterested. I think I lack the skill of thought organization, thus I suck at word manipulation.

I need practice, a lot of it. Tsss.