I was reading through the condensed (and I clear: Wikipedia) explanation of Alice in Wonderland (not due to the movie, mind you), and although the literature has yet to give me the required headaches, the elucidations and science of Lewis Carroll’s rather tamely subversive literature successfully elicited headaches out of poor old moi. Ask why.

(because they’re all about freaking math. I kid you not.)

Although it satisfies me that at least it still has a little of wicked fun in the Wonderland context (much to Matrix’s follow the rabbit/down the rabbit hole) and people theorizing that the rabbit hole is in fact a hallucinatory state, it’s curious to note that a lot of Alice’s symbolisms and theoretical ramblings were left out in the movie version which, our beloved Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter (she still scares me, but I love her) are on, directed by Tim Burton. Whilst our written Alice is stumbling down wonderland on E, Alice the live-action version is going around wonderland battling with her own concept of maturity versus reality, ultimately following her father’s footsteps in embracing that, in fact, people may be deemed mad by most, but they’re the geniuses who make the impossible possible.

It is also interesting that Alice is seen to be returning to Wonderland now being 19 years old, and has had recollections of wonderland back as a kid. This time she gets a surprise marriage proposal, and after she backs out, she stumbles upon Wonderland in a creepy de ja vu, convincing herself that everything is a dream—her recurring dreams, in fact—while convincing everyone and herself of who she is and what her ultimate role is. While it shows that she is encountering everyone almost for the first time again, therefore providing a different twist of familiarity and vagueness, leaving the audience to think that although it’s almost like the story they know, even if it’s not the story they loved. This whole refreshing twist without fully changing it still compensates for the yearning of the original Alice in Wonderland, therefore completely offsetting the contrast versus the written context, as this is no longer the Alice in Wonderland we really know, but maybe an unwitting sequel to the story.

I have got to reluctantly give another kudos to Tim Burton—he was able to pull this off again. Although I am far from tired from seeing the Burton-Depp-Carter tandem yet again (a package deal, of course), it’s a relief to find that they didn’t leave out the other characters pale, in fact making them step up to the plate. Mia Wasikowska may seem reluctant but brave for the 19 year old Alice, and Anne Hathaway was splendidly…err…spacing out. A disappointment was the lack of character for the Cheshire Cat, though, which would have given more color to the rest of the 3D cast anyhow.

All in all, not bad. Watch it 3D or not, the movie in itself was ostentatious as for the colors. And, well. We all love Tim Burton.

PS. Speaking of which—Cass and I were discussing the possibilities of a Neil Gaiman story converted in to a Tim Burton movie—the Graveyard. Wouldn’t it be lovely? Johnny Depp as Mr Frost, Helena Bonham Carter as Ms. Lupescu, and maybe Freddie Highmore [he’s spooky enough anyway] as Bod. Would work, don’t you think? Tss. Maybe we ought to consider a new career in casting.

PSS. Happy birthday, Marla. I love you lots. *hug* Bakit di ka man lang sa date na ito nag last day?

I found a rather interesting echo to my sentiments early Sunday morning. See, I was at CBTL picking the brains of someone and it turned out that we had the same idea about cancellations—that they’re simply annoying and a pain in the goddamn arse.

Don’t get me wrong. Accidents, emergencies, or simply wouldn’t-make-it-because-something-important-came-up-but-I-really-wanted-to-go is okay. But those who are aware that they have committed to something and yet still carelessly did something which led to cancellations is rather annoying. Or worse, failing to set the alarm on time and ending up waiting. What people kind of fail to understand, is that there are people who actually make time—reach out, in fact—and make an effort to spend time with people because they want to be with them, and some of them are already given priorities anyway, and they still end up managing to ruin your plans, your day, and your heart.

So yeah, that’s a totally new look at the term, “paasa.”

That’s kind of the sad thing, isn’t it? That some people just don’t understand the effort people place in to be with them.

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Anyway, there’s also this some interesting view of things when someone cancelled on me this weekend as well—but an emergency happened. I didn’t mind. I was tired, but I kind of really wanted to spend time with her anyway.

I read her sms. And was placed on a stump the whole day. See, I even tried getting some people’s opnion of things: like, how do you positively put down someone’s invitation, if it’s let’s say, an emergency of some sort? People offered their views, but I can’t quite get the answer I wanted. Maybe I asked the wrong question.

But what I didn’t get to really understand, is how she smsed me about it: “…as much as I want to see you.”

Some people would say:

“As much as I wanted to go.”
“As much as I want to be there.”
“As much as I want to hang out.”

But she said: as much as I want to see you.

Whooo. Ngiti, JC. Masyadong malaki ang ngiti. *laughs*

I’m 24 and I stutter to 18 year olds. Well, not really stutter. Just mind block and can’t communicate well. Saaaaaaayh. But then, like in the Boy Meets Boy book, you can flirt with the best of them, but only when it doesn’t matter.

Okay. For clarification, I am not out to ensnare minors. I happen to be friends with some, but some people are just amusingly witty I am so surprised that they could latch on to my humor. It’s been a long time since I last had “unsafe” chats with one (exception of selected snarky friends, of course), and by unsafe, I mean, different from let’s-end-up-talking-about-the-nice-ones-like-the-weather-and other-sparkly-things-because-you-might-end-up-getting-upset-if-I-say-something-bad-but-really-humorous.

I miss snarky, I miss witty, I miss sugar-high conversations. I have them sometimes over the weekend, thank god, but testosterone humor is still testosterone humor. Okay, I admit I turn into one sometimes (geek testosterone is awsum) but it can get draining. Specially since I’m faking the testosterone part (hello, biology?) I’m bound to run out of supply—much like when you drink Red Bull and you wonder where you’re getting all the energy (and feel so spent for about 5 days in return) but it’s really fake anergy anyway.

So, fortunately (or unfortunately for them), I get to find some weird mix every once in a while, and when I do, I pick their minds like crazy. I have this thing of how to gauge if someone’s of a wave-length: I slide in a small comment, and when that someone picks it up, then I know it’s not a lost cause. Off you go to friends category A (or is it category B? Can’t remember), and you will be contacted frequently from here on.

The problem with me, though, is that I have lowered standards—because unfortunately I don’t have much luxury to go around and spend time with a lot of them. Sometimes they go in packs, and they’re usually available on the internet, but I am without a connection right now, so my peers are either work buddies, or rediscovered old connections. Or maybe even random friend referral. It happens. But you get tired of waiting sometimes and when unexercised, wittiness wanes, till the next one comes along and you feel…dazzled (holy shit, point 1 for the commoner in me to use an Edward Cullen referrence!) by them. It can be wit, or it can be the presence, either which. Or it can be the plethora of either useless info or helpful info, which ever.

So, I stutter. Or my mind blocks. I get lapses. Unless you feed me some liquor real quick and all the anxiety are diminished temporarily. It’s embarrassing, of course, that apparently my wit is inconsistent, but don’t worry, I still talk to JC every once in a while to exercise, even if she’s more critical and rather judgemental.

Admittedly, I have been rather judgemental myself. Should I encounter someone who couldn’t get into the same wave of snarky-ness, I back off a bit, leave them to their comforts. It can be rather hard because it gives me an aloof make-up if not shy or uncommunicative, and that gives me more time to myself. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate friendly. I am still interested in them. Just…not very familiar. Of course I’m aware it’s a flaw I need to fix. Specially if it backfires on me, because as much as I don’t have the patience to deal, it turns out, not everyone has the patience to wait for me to speak.

Well, I’m trying. At least, it’s a start, right? So please, please, please be a little bit more patient with me, especially if you’re one of those I take a fancy on because you’re hella snarky. If I stutter, of if I smile bashfully instead of saying something witty, you’d know. Till then, don’t give up on me, yeah?

I cannot believe I got a beating from Mark when he dropped by in the office today. He’s now working in Fort Global, and is almost making it his responsibility to look after me every once in a while to ensure I’m okay, and now he’s trying to forcefully beat some sense into me when I talked to him earlier.

I told him about the comment I got from someone over the weekend. I told him my case. He pointed out (and used a rather well played metaphor, too) two things:

1) At one point, napaasa ko rin daw siya. We burst out laughing about it when we realized that, and I kinda felt bad, too, but…err…well. The difference is, I told him pointedly that we just wanted to be friends. And he decided not to go after it anymore.

2) He said that I can’t claim anything unless I made the point across—which is very well my point in the other long blog about the whole you-don’t-learn-this-in-primary-school thing. Sabi niya, it doesn’t count if there’s a wish, and I tried making it happen, pero walang kaalam alam yung isa. Kasi, anong point? Ang metaphor niya: it’s like having a fire drill. There’s an emergency, and you have people running. But someone only sees people running, he or she would assume it doesn’t have anything to do with him/her, and goes into the building anyway. Which makes the whole fire drill pointless. If totoong fire issue yun, at hindi niya alam, namatay pa siguro yung tao. :)) Ang point—sabihan mo yung taong involved, baka madisgrasya. Hahaha.

So sabi ko, sorry naman. I was waiting for divine intervention. Divine intervention ka jan, he claims. Sabi ko, feeling ko kasi, baka magic. Baka destiny might make things happen. Kasi korni kung sasabihan ko siyang pupunta pala ako sa kanya, may surprise and all, and see if there’s something more. Kaya I took it as a sign na hindi natuloy yung plano ko halfway. Sabi niya, eh hindi naman kasi fair. Hindi ka diyos. Oo nga naman. Parang nag hope ka for a miracle na someone would go to Divisoria na baka mag kita kayo, eh walang kaalam- alam yung isa at nagpuntang Chinatown. Hahahaha.

Sorry, naaliw kasi ako sa symbolism nya about the fire drill. Ang sarap tuloy mag concoct ng napaka rami pang symbolisms.

Sabi ko, hayaan mo na. Ayoko na ituloy. Come what may na lang siguro.

Chicken. I could see it in his eyes he was screaming that silently. Hahaha.

Sabi ko, kasi parang tayo lang yan, e. Ayoko na magkaroon ng anything between us kasi we’re better off as friends. So paano pala kung ganoon din pala ang point of view niya? Na naisip niya, ayoko na sa kanya, hindi ko na siya makita as someone na potential na maging kami. Na mas friends na lang talaga. Eh tanga akong nag co-concoct ng stupid magic tricks with fate, thinking na baka pwede pa.

Eh kasi ako, na clarify mo. Alam ko nang there’s nothing more. Mag usap kayo. Tanungin mo.

Ayoko nga, I retorted. Pride ko lang.

Eh yun lang. Ayaw mong gumapang. Tanga mo kasi. And he laughed.

And that was the point of the whole firedrill, folks. :)))

Here’s something they never teach you at primary school.

Someone will always be not over someone. Deal with it. If you get lucky, and if you’re good enough, you’ll be the one to change her mind. If you’re not, you’ll be the subject of a little bit of a playground tiff where in you kiss, you get a little dramatic, you imagine there might be fucking something more, but you find yourself sitting across the truth one day and you know—YOU KNOW—that THIS IS NOT THE TRUTH YOU’RE AFTER. Sure, pull off all the stunts you want. You’ll have a lot of them in your lifetime. You will have a lot of those freaking movie scenes replayed over and over and over again with you as either the protagonist or the antagonist. But you know what, two things:

1) Even if you SHOULD have kissed her and asked her to change her mind, if you never did—even if you went halfway but didn’t make it and you got into all sorts of weird stupid trouble anyway—IT WILL NOT MATTER IF YOU DIDN’T MAKE IT TO MAKE HER FEEL IT. Your stories about how you tried won’t matter—because you know what, you can pine about things all you want, but if you never got the message across, you will never get to say, hey, I have temporarily foregone my pride no matter how low or foolish I was just to let her know how much she matters to me, how much I would want to forgo all the games people play to make people run after them, but you never did it, you never told them how much you want to try, and how—god forbid—desperate, of you to make them want to take a chance on you, you will never EVER be able to say, I did it, oh fuck, I did it, despite all the irrationalities a human being can surmise.

2) And you know what, even so, even if you say fuck it, even if you have been asking the whole universe to make her yours, it matters WHETHER OR NOT YOU CHANGE HER MIND TO MAKE YOU HERS. And sometimes, it can be done if you’d be outrageous enough to do it.

Oh, yes, even if you know you’re just one huge stupid fuck for even bothering to hope, imagine and wish. Because in the end, someone will always tell you you’re foolish, and someone will always say you’re such a huge fuck for imagining there would be more, but in the end, it’s you, yes, it boils down to you and how fucking embarrassing you wanna get, and how long you can play that song which will prompt you to do stupid things, and over all, you wonder, is it really worth it—for you, for her, and for all that you’ve done in between. Now, you ask, is it really worth being so irrational over something transient in the first place?

My answer? Depending on how crazy you want your life to be. In the end, it’s your life. It’s your story. And it’s how bereft of side stories you wanna get. Because you know what? In the end, passion drives you. Your hunger drives you. And yes, even if it’s just one small kiss that you’re left hanging on to, at least you’re hanging on to something. This small thing will be pivotal no matter how many what-ifs you have—it’s about what you did to make it possibly happen. We’re all made of moments. And THERE WILL ALWAYS BE POSSIBILITIES.

So take that, you. This is my answer to all those moments we let slip by, and we hung around drinking our nights away pining over the incredulities of life. Move, damn it, move!

(lalalala, I’ll be going back to my wasteland of ideas)





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Someone told me something very revealing last night. I keep thinking I’m the one who’s a prey to people who make you hope, not knowing that on an analysis of things, I actually made some people hope for me as well. In short, paasa daw ako. And enumerated a list of people. Pota.

So, last night, I side-stepped on a possible crash site of issues. I went home early to save them from myself. In an instant, I became the protagonist who’s shielded everyone from the antagonist, who also happened to be me. Talk about dual personalities.

I should feel proud that I spared a life I could potentially mess up. But the romantic in me could not help but wonder.