Hungover over the Ferris wheel

Have you ever felt so happy for a short period of time that even after the experience, the happiness would still sting and you'd be hungover for about a day or two?

That was how I felt when I rode the Ferris wheel with my friends during the Feb Fair 2013.

I've only ridden the wheel twice. Once when I was four, and the last was during the fair. That’s a 14-year difference. It’s a good thing because it explains my overreaction that I even had to blog about it.

Riding it was a spur-of-the-moment. One minute Ash, Cham, and I were roaming around the park, then the next we were waiting in line to ride the Ferris wheel. By the time we got in, Ash was screaming her lungs out to let out her anxiety. Cham was rocking us back and forth, which is why we got scolded. Rocking was prohibited.

Cham, Ash, and I chilling at the fast-turning Ferris wheel.

And then slowly, the wheel turned. Before we knew it we were high up and I could see through Baker Hall (which was nothing but trees, of course). On top, I saw the fair below shrink...and shrink...and then become big again as we go down. It was ecstatic and with the bright lights and music, it was like… magic. The Freedom Park was filled with busy people who looked like ants. There was the tiny sound of music from the band then the rest were the screams of Ash and Cham. I was shouting, “ANG SAYA! ANG SAYA!” for like ten thousand times. I kind of exaggerated there.

The fair below with teeny tiny ants.

The people in front were screaming their lungs out, too.

For some reason, Cham managed to take photos. Some were blurred, but do understand that she took it with a camera phone, and it was nighttime. All the photos here were taken by Cham.

Anyway, it was such a fun experience, being high up gave me feelings of excitement and fear, something I haven’t felt a long time. We went rounds for a while, and then suddenly it was over. Stepping down, I thought instantly that I’d blog about it even if it took me weeks. I also thought of buying myself a Ferris wheel, which is kind of crazy but fun and reasonable. Imagine, all the kids would come to our house because of the ride, and then they’d be so happy that they might even blog about it, too! But of course I still have to think of a place where to put it, and then there’s also maintenance…

Okay. Maybe—just maybe—buying one was expensive and unreasonable. Which is why I thought maybe in the future--in God’s will--maybe I’d ride more of them? And maybe I’d blog about the ride again because it’s the only reasonable ride worth talking about.

Love and other matters

If you ask me what love is, it will take too much time and space to explain. But I won’t give up on you, which is why on a single paragraph, here is what love means to me:

Love is when God created you because He trusts you; love is when your parents work hard for your welfare; love is when your brother lets you sleep on his side of the bed; and, love is when you let your friends bully you because they’re allowed to.

I have a long list, but I’d rather not enumerate them all. Besides, the deal was that I’d define it in a paragraph which I already did. Now for other matters, these are the things that blur the meaning of love.

For example, the time you didn't keep your promise to God, the time you fought with your parents because they didn't understand why you were acting childish, the time you yelled at your brother because he wouldn't respect you, and the time your friends bullied you way too much that the pain lingered.

I also have a long list of other matters but I won’t expound on it because I didn't expound on love.

Simply, I just want to say that no matter how blurry, you must still acknowledge the presence of love. Despite all the hate, all the anger, all the sadness, and all the hurt, still you must tell yourself that surely, somebody somewhere appreciates you. Still you must tell yourself that you’re not hopeless because God still gives you the right to exist.

No matter how hard, no matter how unreasonable people are, no matter how they hurt you, still you must look forward and say that beyond the clouds, there is a kind of Love who won’t leave you if all else fails.

I tell you this not because I am a positive person who intends to write a whole book about the good life. If you know me, you probably think that it’s not my thing. I’m posting this for my future self, too, if all else fails because to tell you the truth, I've seen a glimpse of the dark side—the emotional, self-consuming guilt, and the erupting feeling of emptiness. When everything goes wrong, look up and tell yourself that you’re here for a reason even after people degrade you as a kind of trash they enjoy stepping on.

The world according to my ears

         Music isn't my life but it's a huge part of it. I recall my elementary and high school memories by associating them with songs. For example, it was in grade two when Salbakuta became popular (which reminds me that our room gets flooded back then) and it was in second year high school when Your Guardian Angel became a huge hit (the year we had a play and I brought the props).

I don’t patronize just one kind of music. As much as possible, I try to appreciate them all. (Except hard rock. Sorry. I’m not there yet.)

The kind of music I listen to depends on my mood, and my mood depends on what's in my playlist. A while ago I listened to The Scientist by Coldplay, and instantly there was heaviness in my chest. Instantly I felt frustration, loneliness, and failure. Self-hatred became my thing. Literally, all of my imperfectness entered my mind and there was the self-crap realization. (This is getting dramatic, but today didn't go well. I couldn't impress a certain person who thinks lowly of me, and it was getting hard to deceive myself that everything was OK.)

Anyway, after that I played Run by Snow Patrol. Suddenly, memories of past happiness flowed through my mind. That song reminded me of a girl who is my sister, best friend, and confidant. Somehow we're losing contact. Someday, maybe, she'd return and we'd be okay again.

I listen to a lot of pop songs. In fact, they occupy most space in my phone. I am a fan of some ‘bitch who writes songs about all her relationships.’ Truly, Taylor Swift has to fix herself, but one does not simply deny the creativity of her lyrics. Her lyrics are like Jessica Zafra’s prose in my head. This is just my opinion, don’t hate me because of this or I’ll cry.

Taylor Swift always looks pretty. Photo taken from the Internet.

The Script and OneRepublic are awesome bands! Coldplay is nice, but some of their songs are hard to sing (like Clocks for example-- it’s mostly instruments). Alicia Keys is also talented. Her songs are old, but they still get to me.

The Script being cool. Photo taken from the Internet.

Ed Sheeran has soothing voice although his lyrics are… artistically green (if you know what I mean). I patronize OPM as well. Yeng Constantino is our own version of Taylor Swift—creative lyrics, relate-able love songs, and guitar in one. But currently there's this woman whose voice I just love.

I was searching about Les Miserables--awesome movie--when I stumbled upon Lea Salonga. I watched her performance as Eponine, Fantine, and Kim on YouTube, and my golly, I was flipped!

         Why haven't I been listening to her before? She is a techie, she's married to a man she knew was the one by thinking to herself 'Why didn't I meet him in the beginning?' and she can cook. She can attach a doorknob, too!

          Now I know why Anna Oposa loves her very much.

          Here's a photo of her I got from the net playing Eponine of Les Miserables.

Lea Salonga playing Eponine. Photo was taken from the Internet.

           Isn't she just pretty?

       

Just another dust

        I wanted to introduce myself the awesome way. Now don’t worry, there’s no need to tell me after reading that very first sentence that I failed because (1) I wrote it, (2) even re-read it, and (3) just couldn't improve it.

Why am I even introducing myself? I, who am just a tiny dust in the universe, would like to be known as that tiny dust who tried blogging again.

See, my pink journal managed to run away, which also means I lost a channel for my thoughts. That journal contains the tiniest detail about my love life, every single piece of the skeleton in my closet, and it also narrates my secret weird dream. It’s gone now, and to whoever finds it, I have two wishes. Please don’t laugh at my grammar. And pretty please take my thoughts seriously because even though the very first entry should be enough to make you laugh (the title says something like ‘It’s Love’—okay, that REALLY is the title), by the middle you should know that I have matured. You really should because that journal covers three years of my life.

  After the tragedy of losing my journal, I realized that nothing should ever stop me from writing my ideas simply because going crazy isn't in my plans. The idea that some stranger might hear my thoughts is assuring enough. Somehow.

I have published a lot of blog entries online and erased the same. It’s a cycle. First, I write something emotional and then publish it. Months later, after reviewing the entry, I’d delete it. Repeat until I die. If you’re reading this, that means I have gathered the confidence to post again, and that means the cycle still holds true.

  Welcome to my life. If you don't mind, I'd just speak my stuff. Starting with music.