boracay-bound

ahh, i will be one of those trendy people flocking there for the long weekend. btw, we booked tomorrow's trip only yesterday. how impossible was that, huh? faith does wonders.

i'm curious if this is the best way to experience boracay. on one hand, a full beach?! i'm not so hot about crowds. on the other hand, the peak season makes for a good party. and well, we ARE going to party. on one foot, it's work. i'm quite nervous about handling people, money, meals, trips... i hope it won't be a logistical nightmare. and so i have one foot left free to dip into sea and sand.

one thing's for sure though - i have to get a bit of a tan. at least i have one full day to frolic. i think. wonder what else i'll spend for... i have to talk to my ate moppet about what i can do there... she's going tomorrow also. i told her she has to come to our event. i hope she remembers her days as a grunge kid, so she'd go to our little old bohemian gig. she can drag all her hoity-toity friends if she wants.

i'll be glad to have some time to read (and maybe write, as karl instructed me), especially while travelling. gawd, it's a long weekend and i'll actually have less than 24 hours of personal time. i'd better get paid for this.

fully booked

i hardly remember staying at home anymore! it's a funny feeling, but a good, welcome change. i feel tired, but i'll survive. not just survive, actually. i'm living! whee!

last friday, i finally saw the poochers again! it was quite a "reunion". ais and i took the train to makati where we met up with leo, mark, junjun and isbel. after dinner at wendy's, leo picked up his girl maan, who joined us, plus skipp (yay!), to watch "house of flying daggers" at gb3. quite a movie! beautiful shots, awesome dance sequences. after that, we talked for a bit to jorem and sheila before having a grand roadtrip around the metro to go home. 1 hour past curfew? who cares?!

we shot more of chuck's film last saturday. after lunch and other preparations at yona's house, we headed back to UP where the scenes took place. most were just clips for his montage. the one where yona and i actually talked went better than last week. at least it also progresses. the more our characters get to know each other, the more yona and i are comfortable with each other. the last scene was at my character's home - at jjo's new house at ferndale (which looks like american suburbia) - and she gives pepe a goodnight beso. we shot that after having a short film fest: chuck's short films "love" (he gave me a copy too), "balance", "portrait", may's thesis "DIY", and jjo's thesis "num lock". wow, my friends are filmmakers. they're really good. after that, we went to ferndale's freaky fair, with cute little kids in costumes all ready to go trick-or-treating. chuck, jjo and may went for dinner, but yona just dropped me off at home before joining his family.

yesterday i had a mall show for that korean pop star mina. sir reev dropped by to say hello and to talk about his first week at behringer. after a lot of coordination problems, the show was finally over and done with. thank god. karl was waiting for me all throughout the 45-minute show. we started so late, it was already supposed to be finished by the time we started. i dragged karl all the way to makati (where i came from with my parents.. huwat?!) to get my belt from may. i taught him how to walk from the ayala station to greenbelt without ever having to cross the street. i can't believe he used to take a cab! we left may and chuck mid-dinner so we could have dinner at a more relenting environment - UP. after taking a short walk, my mum bugged my to get my ass home. i just realized how nice it is to take a walk on carless oval day.. at night.

so after all that, i wake up from sufficient sleep expecting to not have to go anywhere or do anything. only to remember that i have work today. ah... what this week will bring, i can only hope it's as good as my weekend.

"those days when the word effort just means poison"

i FEEL like a scatterbrain today. but i'm not. with mina's visit, the island riddims tour, the putumayo launch, and aleck lurking around some corner, clearly this isn't a time i'd choose to be a scatterbrain. but they're just everywhere, unfinished! the clutter is taking its toll on my head and i feel powerless. like i'll stutter in all my calls, and never assert our demands. i hate making demands. sometimes i wish like calling everything off when i can't get what we want. why can't we just pay for what we want anyway? aaahh the art of negotiation. i'm in denial. i really am a scatterbrain today.

i'm so nervous about those damn mall shows. stupid middlemen. makes coordination such a pain in the ass. oh, and SM is getting quite prissy. their bureacracy is quite difficult too. and their new image.

and you'd think the nerves would keep me alive and on edge.. i want to drop dead already. zzzzzzz........

my downfall

...is possibly a small detail that my friend karl pointed out but i think it really makes a major difference in relationships:

i don't mean what i say.

can you believe it?! i don't even do it on purpose. (well, i'd better not, or else that's just a mean mind game.) i never even realized how often my messages are misconstrued. could this possibly be a reason for messy or failed relationships and dealings? are my semiotics different? (freak!) am i just a scatterbrain? do i just speak too soon? when i'm faced with a question, i feel compelled to answer, and maybe i lose the capability to organize my thoughts and choose my words effectively. even if the person gives me time to think, if i know he's waiting on the phone, or staring at me for an answer, it seems that my mind freezes. maybe i'm just too polite. in trying to be pleasant and avoiding being offensive, my tame words are actually different from my intended message. i was told that i'm better at revealing my real thoughts/feelings over sms. how inappropriate is that?!?!

this is such a big deal for me. i'm a frikkin' communication student!! what's wrong with me?!?!

...ah, all in the quest to be better.

past the small talk

"i need to find my bearings," said anne.

we all do.

welcome to the starmaker machinery. we'd be happy to suck you into our blackhole of small talk and plastic smiles. and perennial shopping. and practically kissing piolo pascual via your coffee bean & tea leaf drink. and kissing everyone you work with.

both anne and i are trying to fight that blackhole, that's why we decided to get together and talk just like we used to. too bad it was quite a short time. but home is home. it feels like it whether you stay 5 minutes or 5 hours. so here's what i took from anne:

because of the stark difference of my attitude with people who have been in the industry for a long time, i feel a lack of control of my situation. i cannot influence anything right now. and i keep wondering if i have to turn into them for me to gain that power. but what kind of change or movement will i effect if i do turn into them? it won't be change at all. it'll be... perpetuation. hegemony. yorks. sounds too ambitious huh?

but i do believe that we can dream that big. our generation can, because our parents gave us the luxury to. once they're past survival, we can try to make a difference, can't we? or is it better to go through the challenge of surviving even if they can provide us a means to leap?

oh, and should i stop growing at 24? it's very amusing to see people like that, who are so alive and carefree way past their youth. but it's nerve-racking if you get a family and stuff like that. i mean, it's not right to just want to stop early just because you have money already, but i do want to be able to be a comfortable old hag, if i reach that age. in any case, i don't think i'm the type to stop growing anyway. even now people think i'm old. great.

hmm... so much for having bosses who think about clothes and shopping. as for anne, she'll survive her showbiz life. and she'll find us when she needs to find her bearings again.

a tribute

i'm so happy to have friends who are amibitious, talented and courageous.

isbel is about to be a teacher for adarna publishing's new preschool. she still acts. she moved out of their house because she doesn't want to strain her relationship with her mother further. ultimately, i think they're better off.

mark and leo STILL aren't done with their thesis, but they're already making those videos for CARD (some microfinance banking venture/NGO). BOB productions is taking off! ahh, enough gas money for leo to drive his girlfriend all the way to bicutan. and for mark to spend on his young garapones-turned-love.

rica's an orchestra player and art teacher. she's been an orphan for nearly 5 years, and has managed her finances ever since. she lives in bulacan. it's not so bad now, she says, knowing that she always has enough money for a cab home.

anne's a freelance cinematographer/apprentice. she always has something to do, whether to earn or to learn. and she's able to make her family understand what she does, and she is met with considerable support.

may's a freelance filmmaker. she's leaving her writing job to join the call center industry because she admits she needs to learn some structure in working. her honesty and humility is disarming. and admirable.

for jjo, it looks like a promising career in filmmaking also awaits her.

sir reev is leaving freelancing (writing, composing, and teaching) for a steady job that will make him responsible for his life. and maybe someone else's when he finds her. and eventually, will afford him more time for his passion for art and music.

chely's a fashion journalist, stylist, make-up artist, hair guru... a happily trailing nomad who's out to make everyone feel better about themselves.

deng's also a freelance filmmaker/surfing beach bum. and now her projects seem to be rolling in. she said in her blog she's very thankful to have the luxury to be a freelancer, with her family behind her. she staunchly believes in living the lifestyle she chooses, and knows that freelancing will still give her quite a comfy lifestyle. well, with her talent, faith and determination, i have no doubt.

karl's a freelance writer. he's the man of his house. he refuses to leave the country even if he's not being paid nearly enough for his talent. and that's because he cares enough to share in the daily struggle all filipinos go through. partly because he's used to it.

when i see them, i feel like i need to define my ambitions, the lifestyle i want, the things i cannot give up. i don't want to end up like those zombies deng says keep yapping about work. i want to do what i want, and deal with the consequences of any decision that will allow me to do what i want. even if it means living a bit simpler than how i do now. will i ever let go of this extravagance completely? i keep looking for validation that wanting to acquire wealth is an acceptable goal for these people i so admire. maybe the question is, how far away from my ideal life and real goals will i go just to be rich?

i just don't want to be a zombie. please, lord. i want to be alive, like my friends. give me the courage to start, give us the fortitude to continue.

what is the world coming to?

my world at least.

just when i'm trying to build things up, that's when others start to break down. like family life. everything's tense in our household - between my parents, between them and the kids, among the three of us, between all of us and the help. the biggest blow woke me up today when my parents threatened to break up. (oh, and it's dad's birthday. well, happy birthday to you too) it's happened before and i don't know if it's an old trick, but it's scary because they may not be as willing to work it out since all of us have jobs already anyway. it's not as if they really have to take care of us anymore. in fact i think they want us to grow up already, they think it's high time, and that's an effective way of bullying us into doing it. it's supposed to be less scary because we're all quite settled into our personalities and characters already, but it just doesn't make it all that different. just when i'm adjusting to work since family life and frienships seem stable, that's when they start to unravel. and there i thought i was doing enough preventive maintenance. i better take care of my friends.

just when i'm trying to widen my horizon, that's when the world gets smaller. they are all pleasant surprises. karl is friends with my boss from mtv, ma'am jill. karl is friends with a goth band called the late isabel. ma'am jill manages the late isabel. ackey, a film friend, directed the late isabel's first video. karl is friends with my comm II teacher yvette tan who gave me a 1.25. he sat in my class, i'm almost positive. karl is friends with my friend luna. sir reev is a distant cousin!! my maternal lola and his paternal lolo are something like 3rd degree cousins. sweet beef! everything's getting a tad too incestuous here. scary that it might end up being too close for comfort, but the synchronicity just makes me smile.

so there. i hope the world doesn't blow up this week. as ais said "sounds promising. promises all kinds of hellish stuff."

action!

yesterday was my acting debut! may got me as the lead actress in finkid chuck's autobiographical film called "a man from manila". it was the first time for me to meet him, and on quite an important and personal occasion for him, so he brought me a beautiful bouquet of mums and gerber daisies.

chuck was the director. lakan, bj and jj took turns being the soundman. may and jennie jo were PA's/extras. hmm.. lakan and jj were too. BJ played my boyfriend/soon to be ex Brian. Yona's the lead - the one and only Pepe. And I play his girl Ana. hmm.. so i'm supposed to have had an affair with a certain professor named Dr. Rodriguez, have a relationship with this atenean Brian, go to the US as a nurse, come home pregnant, and still have Pepe in love with me. holy smokes! we really are fools for certain people sometimes. oh, and Pepe's also supposed to be in love with his country too. good for him. i can't say anything else about the film since i wasn't given a full script yet. i only got what i needed for yesterday's shoot, and i wasn't even able to bring it home.

we only shot one scene - the day Pepe found out my name. BJ was too hilarious as Brian the atenean... masyadong vintage britpop ang dating! it took us something like 5 takes because Yona kept cracking up at the sight of BJ... and his line "Let's go babe!" mwahahaha!! Well, yona himself had quite a line.. his reason for not having a girlfriend? "Di kasi ako pogi eh.." WHAT?!?! DID YONA JUST SAY THAT? tsk tsk... he's too handsome for that excuse.

we heard mass at a church behind cherry's. it took an hour and a half!!! sheesh. but we had a hearty meal at hap chang afterwards, care of the producer himself. ahh... i love productions.

funnily enough, yona is in awe of my memory and jj says i have potential in acting... they should see other broad majors. but i had fun. i really like working with my film buddies (anne included, aside from may and jennie jo). i wish i had more time so we could keep on shooting...

grand pianos and beds

i was really looking forward to watching alicia keys especially after hearing cheap starlets and rappers sing repeatedly on the afternoon of the concert. i tried to run the show like a drill sergeant. of course i was antsy for it to finish early. thankfully both ever gotesco's personnel and i were quite efficient that day. i left the mall show at quarter to six and still had more than half an hour to ride the train to cubao.

i had dinner with karl, who took me to a refreshingly spacious and quiet filipino restaurant along aurora boulevard. the food was good and cheap, and we had bottomless gulaman. how original =D

since anne told me that she was at the concert, i had hoped that karl would hand me over to her. unfortunately she entered the coliseum early, and my ticket, i mean sir reev, was nowhere to be found. he ushered us in and left after polite hellos.

luke and kyla fronted for alicia - quite a hard task. they were alright. not really entertaining, though skilled.

even if i've been to many concerts and gigs, it was still a lot of firsts for me. first time to not watch a foreign concert with my sisters. first time to watch an non-rock act. first time to watch a solo female artist. first time not to have a prime spot!

highlights: she bootyshakes! "rock with you" was quite an opener. she did anthony kiedis' headbang move! she did "higher ground" by the red hot chili peppers (which no one seemed to recognize!). she lay down on the piano!!! and then reached over to play a few bars... whew! to quote sir reev, "alicia... you're a bad girl!"

downside: the crowd was SO corny!!! no one was standing up! (well how could you, if you just had to wear that ruffly mini with stilettos?!?!) and i was too polite to block their view just because i wanted to dance. at least i was on my feet for around 3 songs. i was so far, i had to look at the monitor to see her face!

at least during the encore sir reev and i were able to go down to the fifth row. man, she's pretty! and quite robust. but it doesn't matter since she's comfortable in her skin.

sadly, i still wasn't able to see anne after the show since my parents were already waiting. went home with extra adrenaline that i talked off on karl.

what the dark corners of my mind really think

i'm listening to the late isabel's album dollhead. i like them, i must say. i'm impressed that how exacting they are with their style, in words, music and imagery. well, they've been doing this for quite a while after all. it helps that they all look alright, with a very pretty vocalist to boot. even if everything (outfits included) look orchestrated, it's impossible to suspect that they were forced to be that way. clearly, they thought of it themselves.

the music itself for me isn't too dark or arcane. (is it me, or am i really just used to it?) 68 reminds me of sugar hiccup. dead eyes reminds me of the song caterpillar. follow reminds me of... well, it just sounds familiar. not like it's a rip off, but like a comfortable part of the stuff i listen to - alone. not something used to congregate with others. after all, wawi said that it's dark, like asylum-dark, corners-of-the-mind-dark. i rarely invite anyone to go exploring my mind with me, if i do at all. but how about those who don't go exploring? and we all know that there are more people who'd rather not take that trip.

the lyrics are vivid. i can see them black cats now. meow! hehehe... no, really. it works. they almost become tangible when you hear them being sung. i guess the problem is that i begin to doubt if what they're talking about is something i've experienced. i mean, are they talking about something that's part of human nature and human experience? or is it one of those songs where the starting point is just an image that they want to conjure, an impossibility that they want to be brought to life, because life itself doesn't contain it? they may be even trying to illustrate how it's like for other creatures - dead people, cats, characters like sandmen, etc. i can appreciate that. like i said earlier, not everyone will though.

it won't be a favorite though. i certainly won't pop it into the car stereo. and it's probably because though i recognize the beauty of their work, i can't easily relate to it. it's very intellectual. not natural as to send my heart fluttering as if to say "ah! that's how i feel!" i have to think. and eventually "hmm... i have a faint notion that i have felt that, or have seen that..."

but i do believe that the band and its music cannot and will not be ignored. but can it reach an audience wider than the circle of goth aficionados? can i make that happen? (like that thing sir medina said is program planning - what would happen if the other station acquired the program? in this case, record company. can we steer them in the right direction? god forbid they blame us if we lead them astray. man, i'm such a coward.)

p.s. yes, the corners of my mind are still fairly well-lit.

kindred spirit!

instead of losing spectacles, i lost several inches. the power went to my head. she seems to have gotten back on track however. i hope i do too. read on and you'll get it. if you don't, read an earlier post too, called "mayonaise". i really hope i get back on track.

The spectacle of myself by Lakambini Sitoy

When I was eight I came home weeping, claiming I couldn't see the blackboard. My parents hauled me to an optometrist. Before I knew what was happening, they had transformed me from a grave, pretty child into a hag. There was only one pair of kid-size frames in the optical shop, and these were horrible rectangles in thick black plastic. I will never comprehend the mindset of an optical company that could crank out frames like that - doubtless they were made for some hefty Poindexter type, a third-grade genius plotting to blow up the world in his lab.

The optical shop hadn't thought to stock frames for little girls either. It was assumed little girls never needed glasses or didn't want them.

For two whole years, I suffered in those Malcolm X glasses. My nose, a bridgeless triangle, flared like chariot wheels directly beneath them. My hair came down in opaque black curtains on either side of my cheeks; my mouth with its down-turned upper lip bore all the solemnity of a funeral director's. There was little reason to smile, mainly because none of the kids would talk to me. Direct eye contact is important to people, and being unable to provide it I was in effect a non-person. The toughest part was being mistaken for a genius who studied all the time, when in truth I hated everything except popular literature, and reviewed for Chemistry on the 15-minute drive from our house on the outskirts of the city.

Even when my parents thought to replace the frames with newer rose-tinted varieties, as round and inoffensive as a granny owl's in some idiotic Raggedy Ann story book, it made no difference. My reputation as a menopausal prig was in place.

Then, after the quiz bee championships and the piano lessons, the pimples, unrequited crushes and more of those appalling pink frames, the spectacles came off.

I was sixteen. It was summer. In the mirror of the optical shop I met my own clear gaze. My eyes threatened to tear up any second and expel the new soft contact lenses, but for the moment everything was magical. My eyes, a lucid brown, had lost that stunned blind look. Absent the heavy frames and streaky glass, they were naked at last. The world, a blur without spectacles, had resolved itself into lines and color as close as could be to hard truth. The tired dusty surfaces of the optical shop, the cracked tiles on the floor and ancient eye charts, were revealed to me. Gingerly I raised my gaze to the world outside the store window. A dissipated man in his thirties turned to look at me with interest. This is power! I thought in a rush of glee.

Power it was. Those lenses and I became best friends. They were the closest thing to a phone booth Spandex or a pair of seven-league boots - instruments that conferred magnificent attributes upon the wearer, attributes that upon closer look were but extensions of her innate talents. With them, some inner engine of femininity went into overdrive, as I struggled over the span of a few months to learn the rituals of coquetry my classmates had mastered at birth.

The lenses got me into trouble too. Within my family what had been suspected for years was suddenly staring them in the face: I was the prettier daughter. It wasn't long before friends and classmates discovered that fact, but I was too naïve to know envy or advances when they came my way. Blessed with neither magnanimity nor grace, I would tell my older sister, in our quarrels, that she was ugly as an orc. She'd threaten to rip up my contacts and consign me once again to Poindexter oblivion.

But a more dangerous consequence was a sudden fear of all things requiring dedication and intellect, accompanied by a fervent regression into what was light and pretty. I stopped trying to be Edward Hopper and spent hours sticking Pini-Mu stickers into notebooks. This was freshman college, a time when most bright, misdirected kids are wiping the high school slate clean and using their brains at last, on the long road that culminates in an illustrious leadership career. But I'd been to that intense, angry labyrinthine already and was scared to death of another run.

The tortuous journey to maturity (my writing being my lone potent weapon all this time) has been marked by a push and pull, between a surface prettiness and a bleak worldview that was the first I ever had. Now that hormone-laden adolescence is behind me and it really doesn't matter to me whether I wear glasses or not, I still am faintly astonished at how crucial they can be to other people.

Some build their identities around their specs; a pretentious critic for an internet magazine had herself caricatured in a pair of frames larger than her chin. They are powerful signifiers. Women most especially flaunt their glasses to show that they are anti-beauty, intelligent, and an authority in their field. People are intimidated at once by that image -- and rarely demand proof. *end*

also used to having that intimidating look, i don't want to know that i only survived because people did not demand any proof! i have to get back on track!

limitations

i realize now what i really lack in writing.

one of the most obvious is that i don't have any practice. i'm not extremely discouraged by this, since i'm already trying to catch up anyway. i'm proud to say that a glint of intrinsic skill still shines through in my writing. another obvious one: limited vocabulary. i'm already trying to remedy this by reading more. but i'm still uneasy using words and expressions that i myself rarely use in speaking. i have no intention of sounding too impressive. funnily enough, i am impressed by those who know different expressions and bits of history that make an article more colorful, and i think it's a prerequisite for writing (especially in journalism). i guess i never saw myself as a serious author or journalist, so i never sought ways to be published. i enjoy the activity of writing, but never enough to pursue it to be good enough for distribution (this goes for research too, not just style, structure and vocabulary). that in itself is a problem. to not want to tell a story or share a message to a wider audience is something that must ultimately hinder me in using this blessing. if i only write for cathartic purposes and to express myself to people i already know, i will never be motivated to develop a flexible style and build the credibility necessary for a published writer. no matter how much i read and broaden my knowledge and vocabulary, i will, more or less, still write the way i speak.

the above-mentioned limitation also explains why i cannot stand to workshop my pieces. in my narcissism, i write mostly about myself, and i consider my work too private to share. it's absurd, i know. this even says much about why i'm not prolific - my life isn't exciting enough to produce interesting works. if i don't care about other people's stories, if i have no desire to tell them for someone who cannot express himself, then it's obvious why i'm not a writer! it makes it obvious too why my research is very bad, and why i'm so unimaginative as to not see myself in others often. and it illustrates how selfish i am.

so, for all this selfish, "cathartic" self-expression, i hope this starts a new attitude of inquiry, of a sincere desire to communicate. or else God might consider me a waste of talent.

P.S. this makes me realize how good writers' characters must be. imagine - to be moved and inspired by others' lives, by both rare and mundane phenomena, and to feel the need to share it. they must really be a notch higher. so to all writers out there, i salute you. now i'm convinced this is a journey of self-improvement that i should take.

criminal

talked to my good friend rolan last night. i can't believe how utterly selfish and naive i was. and yes, what i did was criminal. can't make that mistake again, now that a new (and different) opportunity is manifesting itself.

this one's by fiona apple.

i've been a bad, bad girl.
i've been careless with a delicate man.
and it's a sad, sad world
when a girl will break a boy just because she can.

don't you tell me to deny it.
i've done wrong and i wanna suffer for my sins.
i've come to you 'cause i need guidance to be true,
and i just don't know where i can begin.

what i need is a good defense
'cause i'm feelin' like a criminal
and i need to be redeemed to the one i've sinned against
because he's all i ever knew of a love.

heaven help me for the way that i am.
save me from these evil deeds before i get them done.
i know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand
but i keep living this day like the next will never come.

oh help me, but don't tell me to deny it.
i've gotta cleanse myself of all these lies till i'm good enough for him.
i've got a lot to lose and i'm betting high so i'm begging you,
before it ends, just tell me where to begin.

what i need is a good defense
'cause i'm feelin' like a criminal
and i need to be redeemed to the one i've sinned against
because he's all i ever knew of a love.

let me know the way before there's hell to pay
give me room to lay the law and let me go.
i've got to make a play to make my lover stay,
so what would an angel say the devil wants to know?

what i need is a good defense
'cause i'm feelin' like a criminal
and i need to be redeemed to the one i've sinned against
because he's all i ever knew of a love.

mayonaise

"i just want to be me.. and when i can, i will" - mayonaise by the smashing pumpkins i wonder if i really have changed since i was in high school. in my opinion, that was the time i started discovering who i was. you see, i was kind of a sullen girl, dissatisfied and moping around with rica, anne and may. since we were the artsy-farts, we were either at the forefront (of school achievements) or were relegated to the back (of parties). may and anne were anglophiles (read: witty or kickass britpop), darias who shunned being in the social mainstream (even if the school wanted them to). i was jane - daria's best friend who had pop tendencies in taste and social status. rica was, well, accepted as a real bohemian gal from quite a bohemian family (writer mum and all). she and i were more glum. we liked things romantic (read: goth) and soulful (read: jazz). at some point, maybe you could say i sold out. after all, it's not exactly fashionable to be angsty past 17. i mean, get over yourself, right? the thing is, i grew out of it first, but i fell out of that bohemian circuit that my friends were able to stay in when at last we all had amiable dispositions. i keep wondering if it's a good thing or a bad thing to have moved so far away from what i originally liked. everybody evolved, of course, but was i different now that i was comfortable with my body and learned to dance to hiphop or pop, groove to sunny tunes and find no fault in leanne rimes? all of us have learned to be open-minded, tolerant, forgiving, and lighthearted too. but i fell out of the circuit! i knew less and less about any underground culture while my friends participated in it. and it's not as if i have an edge for knowing pop culture because pop culture makes itself readily available and simple enough for anyone to absorb in an instant. i had more fun, maybe, hanging out with a more laid-back crowd. not that they don't have their own wisdom. in fact, they taught me the beauty of simplicity and faith. but i feel like i wasted so much time that i could have used to have a good history lesson in music and art, and to keep updating that knowledge. my friends and i have this theory that you will forever be attracted to music and art that you held dear when you were a teenage mope. for me, that would be something romantic-gothic. but am i too happy now? my new friend karl is exposing me again to stuff like that now, and i am relieved that i still appreciate a lot of it. i see the beauty, but can i still relate to it? more digging is necessary. writer that he is, i remember too that writing is the skill that i was banking on when i finished high school. instead, i found myself more concerned with skills in marketing and presentation. i almost totally abandoned reading and writing for myself. i didn't push myself when i wrote for class either. i blame it on happiness of course. it's not as effective a muse as angst. but was i always that shallow - caring only about presentation, about being part of the mainstream, about being recognized? it now appears to me that my achievements are actually half-baked - I exerted only what was needed for me to be rewarded. this holds true all everything i'm known for - the honor student, the writer, the artsy-fart, the liberal. what am i really? now, as the adprom, i realize that even with the potential and the facility for marketing activities, i am still uncomfortable schmoozing (seemingly a major marketing activity). so now i want to get back to writing, starting here, in my blog/practice space. sir reev was telling me a while ago that difficult decisions have to be made for your life to move forward and for God to grant you your desires. though i still have no idea what i actually want deep down, i hope i'm on the right track making a career out of schmoozing, and that He will make me happy in Him, whoever I am inside - goth writer or not.