Oooh. I can't wait for that day when you will finally shut up and watch in utter horror as the whole world mock you. They will finally expose you for the fraud and airhead that you are, AND not be preempted by politeness and social grace to keep that to themselves. Banners will be hung on terraces, bridges, and tall buildings announcing your countless acts of sheer stupidity and thoughtless gall. Your family can do nothing but bow their heads in shame for your existence.
Oooh. Just you wait. That will come. And I will be in one of the balconies, looking down at you, clapping my hands together in a bored but mocking salute to your worth as a live creature of the Earth. And in 3 minutes, I'll retire to my suite and bask in the glory that will never be yours.
Last week, I received one of the best news in my life: a provisional acceptance letter from Kyushu University in Japan. I was bursting out of my seams! Term starts in October, the Faculty Director said. They would need my answer within the month plus an obligatory interview with the Japanese Government. It was crazy!
I dragged my dad, who was here in the Metro for a visit, to my room, made him sat down on my ergonomic chair, told him to breathe in, and out - just breathe in and out. It was only when my dad got pretty impatient that I directed his attention to the provisional letter of acceptance from the Graduate School of Law's Faculty Director.
1 minute. 2 minutes. (Hey, pops! React already!) 3 minutes. (The letter IS NOT that long!) 4...
And finally, my dad laughed and shook his head. I asked him if he's so proud of me that he can't talk but he laughed at me some more.
We had late-night dessert and he tried to keep me from jumping up and down. This was after I've properly announced the news to the Boy, Nicona (who was with Jenesaisquois - whattahorriblylongandcomplicated name - at that time), 10, Soldier, and GS. (I was pretty pissed since all but the Boy sounded deflated when I told them that no, I wasn't gonna be tying the knot (or rope?) anytime soon but will be pursuing further studies abroad.)
Next morning, pops woke me up at 10 am (which was good because he normally wakes me up at 7 am even during weekends) and asked me if I got to sleep at all. Ha-ha. (I had trouble sleeping since I kept waking up in the middle of the night, wondering what I'd bring and how I'd draft my LL.M thesis. But I wasn't going to admit that to him. No no no.)
My dad went out to go shopping and then - when he was no longer face-to-face with me - texted me saying he's mighty proud. Of me. Yay.
For this, I have to thank Someone who made this all possible. Without him, I couldn't have achieved this. Nothing could've had happened. So, to the Great Architect, thank you from the bottom of my hypothalamus (and, okay, my heart even though you did not really mean for the heart to be capable of that).
I offer you this good song aptly entitled "Thank You" from your other daughter, Dido:
My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window
and I can't see at all
And even if I could it'd all be grey,
but your picture on my wall
It reminds me that it's not so bad,
it's not so bad
I drank too much last night, got bills to pay,
my head just feels in pain
I missed the bus and there'll be hell today,
I'm late for work again
And even if I'm there, they'll all imply
that I might not last the day
And then you call me and it's not so bad,
it's not so bad and
I want to thank you
for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you
is having the best day of my life
Push the door, I'm home at last
and I'm soaking through and through
Then you hand me a towel
and all I see is you
And even if my house falls down,
I wouldn't have a clue
Because you're near me and
I want to thank you
for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you
is having the best day of my life
Chris Medina was one of the American Idol 2011 hopefuls in Milwaukee. He was an ordinary-looking guy but, I find him to be one with an extraordinary heart. When he first walked into the room, I knew he had a story to tell, thanks to the sudden change of background music (from upbeat to a poignant melody) and from Ryan Seacrest's introduction. Another one of their usual sad stories, I thought.
I was wrong, however. His was not the usual sad story, played up to beg for television watchers' sympathy from all over the world. Chris did not cry while telling his story. He did not even hiccup. Yes, his tone was somber but he had this air of quiet dignity and he seemed like he resigned himself to his chosen fate - willingly. Knowingly. It seemed as if he knew he wouldn't be happy doing otherwise.
My heart went out to him and his girlfriend, Juliana Ramos. Though people played clips of his audition over and over again, posting it in their Facebook walls, emailing everybody they can think of, I chose not to click Play again. I didn't have to. Honestly, I had only seen his audition part once - on T.V. I knew I couldn't bear watching it again, not because it was sappy or what, but because I knew his story by heart already.
Until now, I can hear his song, his rendition of "Breakeven". The song, for me encapsulated the pain of breaking up and how one heart suffers more than the other. If I can juxtapose the lyrics to Chris' and Juliana's circumstances, the result of the juxtaposition would be very moving. Although the couple did not, in fact, break up, I could imagine the pain both are feeling: Chris may feel helpless, seeing Juliana in such a state. Juliana may feel that she is holding Chris back. The lyrics of "Breakeven" is beautiful and straightforward, just as how I perceive Chris to be.
I can remember how Juliana's' shoulders shook as she found out her boyfriend got a golden ticket and how devoted Chris was (and still is) to her.
I remember. And hopefully, I will take the memory with me until I myself wither away. I hope to share Chris' story with others and warm a heart or two.
Chris and Juliana are two people who give us all hope. Their story shows us that there is still such a thing as unconditional love in this world.
Chris Medina and Juliana Ramos (Picture courtesy of Juliana's facebook group page "For Juliana".)
Now, I share with you an article written by RX 93.1 jock, Chico Garcia, in his blog yesterday, 30 January 2011. For the article itself, you can visit http://chicogarcia.wordpress.com/.
"Chris Medina"
I know his story has already been bled dry in the media, but there’s something about his story that really hit home for me. It’s safe to say that I already know when a segment in American Idol is about to pull the emotional strings like a puppeteer would his marionette. The sappy maudlin melody comes in, the camera shots are in slow motion, and you know they’re about to highlight a part of the contestant’s story to tug at your heart strings. Maybe it’s a sick baby or relative, or a rejected child out for his parent’s approval, or a dead loved one, anything at all to elicit a tear or two. Although this segment had all the hallmarks of the usual Idol sob story, something about Chris’ story rang genuinely clarion. Here was the guy walking the walk even before he had the chance to talk the talk. Everyone makes their wedding vows with such determination and conviction, only to flout some of the most basic like fidelity, for instance. And here comes a guy who stood by his girl, even if on the surface, she’s but a shell of her former self. Their ordeal is tough to watch in a less than 5 minute segment, but these people are permanent residents in the story we merely visited.
Isn’t this what we’re all looking for? Stripped of the romance and the fairytale embellishments and the wine and roses, you look for someone who’d walk down the road of life with you. Not just in those grand gestures, but in the everyday grind, and especially during the moments of ugliness and despair. They showed a video of his proposal to her (I think she worked for Starbucks) with videos and lights flashing from cameras. Nice, right? But he was also there for her when no one was there to witness, to celebrate, to commiserate. I’m sure there were many times when it was just him and her, or at least what seemed like what was left of her, and he stayed.
When old couples say that the fiery storm of passion will eventually die and will be replaced instead by much smaller, much quieter steady flame, many singles protest, insisting they want a relationship that will rage on for the rest of their union. It’s hard to explain how it’s not the same, but it’s not necessarily less. Arguably it’s superior on many counts. Ask your parents (if they’re in a successful long-term marriage) or any couple who’ve survived the ravages of the years, and you’ll get the same sentiment. It’s this quiet simmer that makes you stay when all the attractive raiment have been stripped away, when all is left is the barest of souls, the very essence of the person you’ve chosen to love. So it wouldn’t matter if they’re older, or uglier, or fatter, or sick, or disabled, or a mere shadow of their former glorious selves, it doesn’t matter because what you love is beyond reach of the unkind years. It would be untouched by age or disease.
It makes me wax philosophical because he lives what many merely aspire for. We get to eat popcorn as we watch his tale like a movie, and when it’s done, we go back to our lives, none the worse for wear. They on the other hand, don’t get to leave; they are the movie. And when Chris finally sang his audition piece, it was the coup de grace. He sang The Script’s “Breakeven”. Of course the song was about how, in break-ups, hearts don’t break even. But Chris singing it brings it to a whole new level. In their situation, their hearts don’t break even as well. His heart breaks seeing what his loved one is going through. His heart breaks not knowing if he’ll ever get back the version of the girl he’s loved with all his heart. His heart breaks choosing between another less complicated life and staying because he can’t leave when she needs him the most. Her heart breaks putting her man through all this. Her heart breaks seeing the difficulty he’s going though as he puts up with challenges in her life. Her heart breaks thinking if she’s depriving him of a happier life elsewhere.
You can tell it hit a raw nerve. It’s the aspect of love at it’s most unattractive, but at the same time it’s love at it’s most unadulterated. I don’t know if Chris will coast to the finals on the wings of his story, but his tale will stick with me for a long time. If I can do that for someone, or if I’ve found someone who’ll do that for me, I’d consider myself mighty blessed. __________
My fellow blogger, Jenesaisquoi of http://passingmoment.blogspot.com/, has the following take on this:
"Yeah the love story, real life "fairy(?) tale is indeed quite an exquisite picture to imagine. A good dose for all the hopefuls (aren't we all? or maybe it's just me). I searched through my comment in one of [Nicona]'s entries [in her blog http://kstwilightzone.blogspot.com/], and since the thought (or my take that is) still has not changed on the matter, here goes- 'i like the idea of falling in love. falling in love however is different from being in a relationship. 'but of course we do love dramas, well preferably those with happy endings or witty lines to go with them. i guess we wouldn't really be able to know how beautiful our own love stories can be, in real life - because simply, they're not fiction. or that, we are too glued to finding fiction (or the ones we read in fiction? or the ones we think others share and we dont'? [sic]) in real life.' "If I may add, I'm all for love (like songs go), but I don't think it's like putting up with the mediocrity of relationships if we think we are not having the kind of relationship we idealized. If truly, love is there, we strive to make our relationship ideal, and in the process - appreciate and - idealized what we have. Our own version of sacrifices - petty fights including - are comparable to those in [Nicona]'s kdramas. Or maybe it's just me talking :)"
[Blog/bloggers' references and translation supplied.]
Socially awkward is not something my friends would describe me. When I told them I thought of myself as such, they would either throw their heads back with laughter or vehemently insist I was wrong. But, seriously, I am.
I can do small talk, yes. But after 10 minutes, I'd start to doze off (while keeping both my eyes at least partially open). Sometimes, I tend to just count the pores on the other person's nose - which is not very helpful in my effort to carry on with the conversation. Those are practically the beat things I could do. Oftentimes, I would blurt out a taboo line, an exaggerated statement, or something utterly senseless - with no ill intentions, no. But only with the desire to keep the other person interested with our little chat or with me.
Oftentimes, specially in big groups, I just listen just so I can save face. When the group is composed of girls, I'm on my guard. Girls tend to dislike me. I can honestly say I understand them.
I would dislike myself if I weren't, well, me.
**************************************
It just occurred to me that if I'd eve figure in an accident, the police will have a hard time contacting the people who are supposed to be contacted and get the message across. If not that, well, at least I would have a hard time getting someone to come to my bedside - in the hospital or in the morgue.
In IDs, there's usually a slot where we'd put the person to be contacted in case of emergency. I usually put my father's details there. But while ahowering, I realized that if my father treats every call as he would treat mine - meaning, he wouldn't answer unless it's the person he would like to talk to at that moment, then I'd be waiting forever for the police to be able to inform him of my situation.
My cousin, the academician,and my niece, the dear one, would rush if ever they'd get the call but why would I inconvenience them with the designation? Plus, they have their own families to worry about. I'm just an extension of 'family', just another member of the clan. (Weirdly, this sentence led me to sing "just another woman in love, a kid out of school, lalalala" in my head.)
I would want to put the boy there but he would ask me why. And he'd say no. And he would not like the idea. (COMMENT MADE ON 2 MARCH 2010: I told him and it was okay. I think he loved the idea, even. Yay for me!)
Plus, I'm not sure if I'd even have a boy with me tomorrow or next week or next month, at least. As revealed above, I am senseless and awkward. Nobody would want that.
So I have to find somebody who will actually be there and who wouldn't grumble about the bother and whome I can pay back someday w/o any fear of actually hearing the favor done for me recounted to elicit guilt. I have to find aomeone who will not be thoroughly inconvenienced as, say, he/ she would have to catch a cab and pay expenses using the teeniest bit of savings he/she has.
But then, why would I want to inconvenience my friends when they have own lives? I wouldn't.
Maybe I should just leave that parf of the ID blank and go through the emergency alone, piting myself for being alone - if I would have the capacity or the conciousness to do so. Or maybe I could put my housenumber there and pray that my staff would be able to catch the words of the police and vice versa.
Bahala na.
*************************************
People talk down to other people when the latter permit the former to. I joine the latter group. I'm weak and spineless. Apologetic is my middle name and I apologize for everything imaginable.
As all this is my fault, I shouldn't be blaming other people for making me feel small. I am small. I should just accept my fate and keep my silence. I'm tired.
Now, I'm hoping for numbness to finally take me in.
too blunt for comfort. polite in a cultivated society. sophisticated and crude. and klutzy. a dreamer with a warped ideology. FBI and CIA wannabee. but stuck in the legal world for the moment. likes crazy conversations with interesting people. despises apocalyptic films. big-eyed wanderer.
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