Cara & Gisele & Karl
Chanel N°5: The One That I Want - The Film
It usually happens in the evenings.
It’s like any other nights really but the show on TV seems to be vivid and comprehensible, the music seems to have a deeper meaning, the people on the street, the establishments seems to have more life to them than usual, but you, no matter how distracted you are from your surroundings, your heart seems to be pinned to a single feeling, the goodbye feeling, the it’s-not-happened-yet-but-later-it-will-should-I-cry-or-hide-it kind of feeling.
The cold breeze seems to know the feeling as well because it blows and it whispers to your skin that you need warmth—the feeling of safety that only the person going away can provide.
You actually feel the weight of your heart, like a heavy bucket filled with memories yet at the same time it also feels empty.
And then you get to that moment, that moment when they’re walking to the door, the house door, or the sliding airport door, the revolving bus door, the heavy ship door, and then you feel this-is-it-but-is-it-really-but-it-is feeling. That lump in your throat that’s hard to swallow but you don’t, the burn in your eyes, the drum beat of your sinking heart and all the other body parts functioning that you’ve never actually noticed before but you experience them all at once, in the most sad and hurtful moment, and then… so abruptly the hugs and the tears happen.
Going home, everything seems pretty normal but it isn’t, it’s so noisy yet it’s so quiet, bland. You convince yourself that if it would’ve been any other day it would be okay, you wouldn’t feel a sting and that tomorrow, or other tomorrows, the sting would go away.
The goodbye so fleeting, yet the goodbye so piercing.
David Fincher while filming Gone Girl (2014)
I can still remember the solitude of a phase in my college days sitting on my favorite couch for hours in front of my beat up Acer laptop passed down from my father.
My buttocks were crushed and hot from almost eight to ten hours perusing the Internet, clicking this clicking that. Suddenly, I stumbled upon a trailer. A British movie, and God knows how much I love the warmth of British films, it was Submarine.
From that trailer alone I knew I was going to like the film, and of course, knew that it wasn’t going to hit the local movie theaters because it’s the kind of movie for people with acquired tastes. Eventually I forgot about the movie.
This was a long time ago, before the Sendong tragedy and I’ve just acquired a brand new computer for my birthday when suddenly, I see a pirated Submarine DVD on the local DVD stalls at Divisoria. My heart raced.
Submarine wasn’t the first movie I watched in my new computer, I can vividly recall it was Across the Universe, but the first DVD movie I popped in to my computer was Submarine. I can still remember my room, the light, how I should’ve been studying and was afraid my mom catching me not studying. It was that time when Instagram was still exclusive for iOS users and I actually instagrammed the DVD because you know, it was cool.
I was alone of course, nobody knew what Submarine was, nobody wanted to watch it when I recommended it, but I loved every single minute of it. The songs, the camera angles, cinematography, the protagonist’s weird but charming persona and of course, the story.
Oliver narrates the movie’s entirety. Whenever he spoke I would always be nervous and giggling because whatever he said reflected my life. I felt that Oliver was me and I was him. He spoke of the unspeakable truths that I don’t because I’m a pussy to say them out loud. Sometimes I’m pressured to conformity that most times I tend to shut up and keep my weird sarcastic world in my head.
The lesson that Oliver taught me overall is to be myself. To not be afraid to be an individual. To revel my own weirdness and that being aloof isn’t such a bad thing.
Recalling the feelings I felt years ago after watching Submarine makes me sappy. I needed this reminder. Before my friends labelled me a hipster, even though I don’t call myself a hipster, and I despised being called one because it’s so bandwagon-y and fake. I need to start exploring my old life again, before RnB caught up with me, before earning money wasn’t a priority, before I liked partying and drinking.
|—||Ten words story: you lost me. (via maisjetaime)|
|—||Begin Again (2014)|
Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face (1957)
Not even half of what I’m listening repeatedly to right now but these were the only ones I could find printscreened on my phone. The rest has already been deleted. I seriously need to post some music I’m listening to currently for posterity. #hookedonafeeling
Eagerly participated in a tree planting event by the DENR and various partners with my colleagues in ABS-CBN!
This event was for the benefit of the deteriorating greenery of MINDANAO and to beat the Guinness World Record of most trees planted simultaneously held by India. 6 regions all over MINDANAO participated in the event and over 2 million trees have been planted on this glorious day.
Naturally we beat India of course! Congrats team Mindanao! #greeningmindanow #treevolution
I don’t know about today that makes me sad.
I don’t know about the past few days that makes me cry.
Yet I feel like I have the answer but im not listening to that little voice.
Yet again the tide is slowly changing. Yet again I have to move on and change. Yet again I have to challenge myself.
Some days I hope things are as simple as this moment, lying in my bed, typing away, never knowing, not caring.
Oh reality, stay where you are for now and leave me in this world for awhile.
I think it’s happening. I didn’t exactly plan it, I just thought of it in passing, the latter word meaning a few times—just in passing. I am afraid of it happening because I wouldn’t know where to start, how to ask permission, how to deal with the consequences. I’m idealistic, and I don’t want to be. At least not anymore. I’m afraid. I’m really afraid.
This is the curse Jack Kerouac gave me.