Gibberish

Be Like That
Three Doors Down

He spends his nights in California, watching
The stars on the big screen
Then he lies awake and he wonders, why
Can’t that be me
Cause in his life he is filled with all these good intentions
He’s left a lot of things he’d rather not
Mention right now
But just before he says goodnight, he looks
Up with a little smile at me and he says

If I could be like that, I would
Give anything
Just to live one day, in those shoes
If I could be like that, what would I do,
What would I do

Now and dreams we run

She spends her days up in the north park,
Watching the people as they pass
And all she wants is just a little piece of
This dream, is that too much to ask
With a safe home, and a warm bed, on a
quiet little street
All she wants is just that something to
Hold onto, that’s all she needs

Yeah!!

If I could be like that,
I would give anything
Just to live one day, in those shoes
If I could be like that, what would I do,
What would I do

I’m falling into this, in dreams
We run away

If I could be like that, I would
Give anything
Just to live one day, in those shoes
If I could be like that, what would I do,
What would I do

If I could be like that, I would
Give anything
Just to live one day, in those shoes
If I could be like that, what would I do,
What would I do

If I could be like that, I would
Give anything
Just to live one day, in those shoes
If I could be like that, what would I
do, what would I do

Falling in
I feel I am falling in, to this again..

~
I have decided to abandon all my friends in exchange of being acquainted to new ones:
> Marks & Spencer
> Adidas
> Accel Sports
> Nike
> Marithe Francois Girbaud
> Bench Body
> Abercrombie and Fitch
> Benetton
> Guess
> Diesel
> Fila
> Converse
> Doc Martens
> Lacoste
> Giordano
> Hang Ten
> Levi's
> Jag
> Penshoppe
> Marc Jacobs
> Michael Kors
> Kipling
> Armani
> Calvin Klein
> Tommy Hilfiger
> Dolce and Gabbana
> Armando Caruso
> Helmut Lang

Problem is, they don't talk.
Real friends talk.

~
Things I like:
1) My hot -- HOT-- Chem lab instructor
2) English and Math class

Things I hate:
1) Getting up at 4 in the morning to catch my first-period Chem lecture class, wherein the instructor's a fiend
2) Loss of social life, no hang-outs, because of my being busy with stuff (unrelated to school.. hehe), and my friends' being nerdy (totally related to school)
[message to the anatomy board-exam topnotcher:You're the GEEK OF THE YEAR!]
3) Tutorials. The brats there need a lesson on REALITY-- I can see that they're seriously deluded. The only student who interests me is this one named Co, who listens to cool music and lets me share the discman.
4) Programming Class. Programming interests me, but the class doesn't. Gets?
5) People I dont know who call on my phone. What a bunch of attention-seekers!
6) Chemistry (again-- so as to emphasize)
---
Enwei, I saw an article which says that one of the worst jobs brought by science in this world is nursing (no offense to nursing students)..
---
Then, "ENGINEERING, law, medicine-- they are noble tasks that contribute to the betterment of people's lives, but art, poetry, music-- these are the things we live for."
---
I saw my favorite writer, F.sionil at school last week-- an achevement! I can die now! Nyahaha!
---

I had this major fuck-up: I totally made a fool of myself.

Which, when I thought about it, happens almost all the time. But this was the worst.

This girl, who shall be unnamed, is the reason behind this torment. When I asked her out, the sweet (I'm not being sarcastic) lady actually said the three-letter word I thought I'd never hear. And so I jumped off a highway bridge out of too much bliss. But it turns out that she is still committed to this guy. I just assumed that they had broken up, as she agreed to wander around with me sometime and promised to give me something (huh?). But No, she said it with utter nonchalance: We're still together.

That was the seal of my doom: I'm destined to be in priesthood. (What? I'll never be able to fulfill my Las Vegas dream wedding?) And it further confirmed my theory: that my unconscious gravitates toward non-single girls. Probably it's too attention-seeking, that's why it thrives so much in conflict. My pal advised, Introduce some chaos into the girl and her boy's relationship. Naaah. What a waste of time. I'll never win in this contest, since I am up against a richer, better-looking, and earlier-to-come contender.

My sister says I need therapy. She says that my unconscious sets standards that are too high, to the point of being unattainable. Maybe she's right. But knowing it makes me feel even worse. (I enjoy being abnormal, but when my own queerness fucks me up, then I'm outta here!)

I shouldn't have thought that she even likes me. Maybe she just said yes just to shut me up. I'm really the most insipid person alive when it comes to this aspect. In love, I'm dense, stupid, clueless, hopeless-- a victim of eternal recurrence.

This confirmation of my fate to become a priest worsens my feelings. It means that I'll be alone and cold-- which, on one hand, is good for I can be buried in books and stuff I love forever. But books, mags, CDs and stuff don't see you as the greatest thing to ever happen to them. Apart from friends, only a girl could do that.

I am a believer in reincarnation. I just wallow in self-pity and look forward to my next life, where she is present again, for sure. Tsk, tsk. Somebody whack me with a baseball bat.

I am reminded of a Rivermaya song, entitled "20 Million". It goes like this:

As I watch the candle turn this night to day
My life collects another yesterday
Alone in the darkness, I am waiting for the one
While lovers wait for the sun, lay I, waiting for the one..

Think about it. These are the signs of stupidity: (1) people refusing to forget the painful past and move on with their lives; (2) people using fate as a damn excuse to forsake someone they claimed to love; (3) people choosing passion over reason; and (4) people dwelling in masochistic sadness by remembering the happy times, which could not in any way be brought back. But these are also the signs of true love, a love timeless and genuine, and Nicholas Sparks proves it to us in his novel, The Notebook.

Set in New Bern, North Carolina, The Notebook tells the story of Noah Calhoun, 31, a former war enlistee. He lives alone in a house he restored by himself after the second World War. Haunted by images of the past, he is repeatedly reminded of Allie Nelson, a girl he met during a summer town festival fourteen years ago. He fell in love with her, and so did she. For several months, they spent each day together, sitting by the lake and reading poetry. But after Allie’s father’s business trip ended, and she had to move back with her family to Winston-Salem.

They haven’t seen each other since then. Noah wrote many letters to Allie but they were all intercepted by her mother, who actually liked Noah but thought he just wasn’t right for her daughter. Allie, unaware of this, began to think that perhaps Noah didn’t feel as intensely as she did, so she never sent her own letters. Thus, for years they had no communication whatsoever.

The rush of their passionate feelings has never changed, though. In his solitude, Noah finds himself always thinking of the face that burned a hole in his heart. But since no replies ever come to him, he assumes that she’s now happy with her life. Unknown to him, Allie is likewise tormented by her baffled emotions. She is about to get married to a wealthy lawyer named Lon, whom she cares for despite the lack of attention he’s giving him, but she always remembers Noah and those days of summer. It doesn’t help that she couldn’t help but compare the two men. Noah is filled with passion, a trait which she, being an artist, likewise possesses; Lon is a workaholic—no time for leisure and stuff. In order to ease her confusion once and for all, she decides to drive over to New Bern to see Noah.

Upon arrival, her long-forgotten feelings come back. She realizes the truth: that neither of them has stopped thinking wistfully of the moments they shared. However, complication enters when her mother, by instinct, follows her to New Bern. She breaks the news that Lon somehow discovered what Allie was truly up to, and that he is now on his way. So then she advises her daughter to consider carefully the choice she has to make. In the end, Allie opts for the one who can bring her true happiness.

But this is not the great part of the story. In fact, this seemingly dumb, exceedingly boring portion comprises nearly three-fourths of the book. The truly marvelous segments are the prologue and the epilogue, which both show what happens fifty years more, when the lovers are old enough to be my grandparents. Allie has contracted Alzheimer’s disease, which continually destroys her memory. We can feel Noah’s grief everytime Allie shows no recognition of him. He is almost dead, for the sorrow and pain is too much for him to bear; but he chooses to see her still and talk to her, because it is the closest thing to fulfilling his happiness, which is to take care of her. Everyday he reads to her the notebook that bears their love story, hoping that someday she will come to remember.

The Notebook reminds us of our feeble attempts to hold on to a lost memory, to relive the happy moments blurred and stolen by fate. It reminds us how love makes is resort to simple things, in order to realize our crashing dreams even for a while. Love is something that forces, not something that is forced. It shows us that true love surpasses time, growing stronger and insurmountable with the farewell of years. When love is real, it enables us to believe we can—at one point—achieve eternity.

Nicholas Sparks, together with his poetic style, is masterful at tugging our heartstrings. Here is a book that is not at all ordinary, filled with the ironic, bittersweet cooccurence of joy and sadness. We may be numbed and our feelings may be hardened by the painful past, but Sparks retrieves them for us. He makes us believe once more.