Admission is no excuse!

Ang [insert self-incriminating* adjective or noun here] ko talaga, hehehe…

I just don’t get it! That magpaka-totoo thingy. I just don’t.

People just seemed to accept their faults and not really do something about it. The worst part is they would actually brandish it like they are even proud they are the embodiment of such fault(s). It is common now to hear people say (or see people post), for example, ‘Ang bitchy ko talaga. Hahaha.’ or ‘Sorry na, low EQ talaga ako e.’

Again, admission to a fault or imperfection does not excuse anyone and does not give you the right to proceed with the deed. It does not mean that when you confess to be a bitch, a primadonna, an OC, whatsoever,  it necessarily follows you can go on behaving like one at the expense of others. In fact, it’s actually the reverse. You allow people to treat you as what you have openly declared. Admission does not, for whatever reason, elevates your status.

This Magpaka-totoo statement entails a lot of self-assessment and honesty. It is for those situations when unnecessary norms, practices, or habits gets in the way of success, efficiency, practicality, and positivity. A classic example is why spend a month-worth of salary just to celebrate a birthday? (Then you go declaring when the bills start to come in, ‘Sorry naman, ang galante ko kasi.’

Maturity is starting to become a rarity these days. Self-expression ends where the responsibility and accountability begins.


From a Greek epitaph to mine

I love poems. I dream of publishing my works before fire fetches me back to the divine cycle or earth and grass blanket over me (if the people I willed won’t be brave enough to completely part with my illusion). I once thought of composing my own epitaph. Until I bumped into this one in the pages of the book I find most useful during my college days.

Finding it that early in life, it struck me both as love-at-first-read and a prophecy at the same time. It felt like I could have written it. The words were so simple yet filled with depth and arousing a sense of exactness to my personal psyche. It gave hints of challenges, of ironies, and realizations – things that have happened and will eventually happen. I knew right then when I first read it that it will be the perfect summary of my life and all the things that came with it.

Reading it and owning it, at the back of my head, there’s this idea, of a longing to know and see first hand the tomb (or tombstone) it originally came. I feel I am somehow indebted to its original author that I need to offer my gratitude personally. The idea of accomplishing this is nearly impossible, I know. But the wanting, I know for sure, will always be there.

They say, no one can ever attend his own funeral. But we could at least be the one to summarize it for the benefit of those who really cared to know.

from a Greek epitaph

I who loved beauty was not beautiful;
I cherished truth and yet I was not true;
I who remembered am so soon forgotten,
But I loved you.

I who loved mirth was well acquaint with sorrow;
I honoured freedom, yet I was not free;
But once, indeed, I knew the just equation,
For you loved me.

Au revoir Le Fantôme de l’Opéra

Due to a series of unfortunate events, with a sprinkle of pride, I missed the Philippine leg of the Phantom of the Opera. And for a self-confessed fan, it means and hurts a lot.

But no, I’m not going to post whines and rants here. I’m not denying how bitter I am for missing my biggest literary love. The pain is just too much but I would rather regress than linger on what-might-have-beens and i-should-haves:

  • I’m a big fan of the book and not really the plays, nor the movie versions for that matter. Though I find Andrew Lloyd Webber’s version an excellent, excellent piece of work and would never think twice to pause and listen to All I Ask of You, there’s just something with reading the book as opposed to watching its adaptations that’s uniquely captivating. Perhaps in reading, the imagination plays a more  central role. I have this notion that when the imagination is at play, it is when the senses are truly at one with every other. Theaters and movies, are more for seeing and listening only.

  • Gaston Leroux is the author of the original Phantom of the Opera but his version is not my favorite. My favorite is the version of Susan Kay (see cover below).Susan Kay’s version, to me, by ‘inserting’ chapters from Erik’s pasts, gave more rationality as to why Erik or Phantom is the way he is and in turn make you feel for him even more. Susan Kay laid out the broad spectrum that is in between good and evil, and depicts the regions where one cannot distinguish from the other. 

I could very much relate to Erik/Phantom and have once described him in a reaction paper as “everything i am and yet everything i am not”. That was the magic of that piece. It was a carnival or ironies, of dilemmas, and juxtapositions. Not one character or scene was presented in singular dimension. For is it not how real life is? Is it not how we are as humans? No matter how we pretend that we are certain of our choices, we are always in the middle of dualities; of left and right, of right and wrong, etc.

I was dying to stand in ovation and clap my hands. I was dying to shout ‘Bravo, bravo!’ That would have to wait for now. Until the time when, again, the Angel of Music sings near.

Sarah Brightman was renowned for her role of Christine Daae but Nicole Scherzinger did give a wonderful version:

A bit late

Isn’t it a bit late for me to blog?

This is the question that hounds me, or at least what I imagine people will think as soon as they find out about my blog site.

But that’s exactly it – for the most part of my life i have been too concerned of what people think. How about this time, I deal with how or what I think; with what I see and how I see ; what what I feel and how I feel, etc.

Again, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing.

Hold tight.