Film: Fatale
You know those movies. The ones that waste a couple of hours off your day. The ones that waste Php. 200.00 worth of a gimmick. I'm sure you've had those. Well, I've had mine, too, and instead of getting me cooled down, it got me hyped up. I felt myself a bit more high-strung than when I entered the cinema. When I walked out, I was ranting with a rage and passion none of my friends could control. "Lizzie McGuire Movie" they called it. The only thing good about it was that it was rated G. But now I begin to wonder - since it didn't shock or giddy anyone off their seats, did this movie have a capability to bore them off their seats? Well, it certainly bored me off mine, and this movie turned out to be the kind of movie during which I wouldn't mind going to the bathroom.
Lizzie McGuire, in general, is something I find quite petty and dull. All the "Ugh!"s and the "Like"s killed me. And it's not even the terms I have problems with - it's how they tend to squeal them. I hope no one's actually been so influenced as to think this squealing is "cool." (Although I somehow feel that it's too late to hope for that.) But when I found out about the movie? I just wanted to laugh - laugh long and hard. Surely, this blonde Barbie has made a success of herself through this show. And the movie was certainly a step up from its on-set series. (Italy always charmed me.) But the story was quite... Typical, and really, I thought, anyway - a ploy to launch her would-be singing career.
The songs were catchy, I admit, albeit too teeny-bopper. But her voice was unlike any other. I'm a music fan, but that wanted to make me say "Music sucks!" Her oh-so-obviously technologically fixed vocals were disturbing, and her too-good-to-be-true story was laughable. I'm a romantic at heart - a great one, at that - but there really wasn't any romance in the movie. Come on, Barbie and the guy who looks like Fez from That 70's Show? Can't be expected from me. I've always believe that romance was to be left to the more mature, and more seasoned actors. Otherwise, all they'll pull off is something quite reminiscent of chewed-up bubblegum: (story) would be sweet, but face it, just isn't anymore, after the acting.
Cinematography and quality of the film itself were good enough. Nothing more is to be expected of a "tweener" movie. But, like I said, maybe the whole setting and story, the music and such - maybe it would've drawn out some emotion out of me had it been carried out by older actors. Or at least, actors who looked older, since I believe the actors in this movie were old, but didn't look it.
Animated films about animals have drawn out more emotion from me. Funny. In theory, a message being sent out from one man to another should evoke more emotion. Oh well. I always was an animal lover. Lizzie McGuire is an acquired taste kinda thing.
Film Femme
Aside from my being a self-proclaimed bookworm, I am also a film fan. I can watch movies for the sake of watching, or for the art immersion of it all, or to sustain my need for romanticism in my life (I am a hopeless romantic, after all), or to get my mind to work the hamster wheel (I do love my twisted movies). That said, one can only imagine how difficult my position is right now, as I'm supposed to share my favorite movie. Because, the truth is, I have none.
It's all the same for me - I have no favorite book, I have no favorite song, I have no favorite movie or TV show. Perhaps it's because I only ever care to read, listen to, or watch what really interest me, and it takes quite a lot to interest me. In other words, what I may choose to like have already gone through vigorous and strict quality control, so I couldn't possibly pick just one. That's like asking PepsiCo to choose the best bottle of Pepsi they've ever made. Obviously, they can't pick the rejected bottles, nor can they pick just one bottle that they've released. But, to the customer, the very bottle that he/she happens to be drinking at the moment, may be the bet one yet, as he had craved for it in the first place. So maybe I'll tell you about that. The movie I'm craving for or ranting about as of late.
M. Night Shyamalan is known for well-known supernatural suspense films "Praying with Anger," "Wide Awake," "The Sixth Sense," "Unbreakable," "Signs," and "The Village." These films feature original screenplays (all by him) that draw the viewers in and keep them at the edge of their seats. He directed these films, and produced them. He also cameoed in them, usually as an extra. Of all his works, however, his most recent one is what's clinging to me these days.
"Lady in the Water" is a bedtime story, according to Mr. Shyamalan. Curious for a director, producer and writer known for suspense and thriller movie, is it not? Not quite. Historically, bedtime stories are meant to scare children into being obedient and going to bed. Such stories include "Snow White" (which isn't as fairytale-ish as Disney makes it to be), "Rumplestiltskin" (with its haunting dwarf/gnome), "Little Mermaid" (wherein, in the original version, the Little Mermaid dies and doesn't end up with true love at all) and "Little Red Riding Hood" (yet another story wherein the wolf plays the villain). So, was Mr. Shyamalan effective in making a bedtime story? In my opinion, yes, he was.
This movie was so clever, mind-bending and imaginative that I had to sit still for more than five minutes just to catch my breath (or rather, breathe, as I had forgotten how to). After a while, my friend and I could only say one thing: "...... Whoa." And yet another five minutes later, we began exclaiming about the film excitedly.
Why is this my Movie of the Moment? For one thing, the story just seems so incredibly fresh. It was dark, involved supernatural elements, yet seemed so real. I admit that the concept of the gigantic eagle and such (you'd have to watch it to understand) are a bit harder to sink in, though. The plot was dark, twisted, vague, understandable, hopeful and refreshing all at the same time.
Another thing is its actors. Bryce Dallas Howard, the leading lady of "Lady in the Water" had in fact already worked with Mr. Shyamalan prior to this, for "The Village." She pulls another of Mr. Shyamalan's characters off quite well, as she plays the Narf (or water nymph). Paul Giamatti plays Mr. Heep, a normal character that you could meet in an everyday situation. He plays Cleveland Heep quite effectively, and I could not help but empathize with him in the film.
Of course, there's also the shots. There were a number of intersting and creative shots - quite artsy, but somehow they belonged to the non-Indie film. They're the kind of shots that would look great as photos.
Although professional reviewers do not praise M. Night Shyamalan as I do, I praise him through and through. I admit his films are of acquired taste. People who are expecting The Lord of the Rings, Mean Girls, James Bond or The Lake House will, no doubt, be disappointed. But if you're open to twisted movies that make you think, despite some cheesy supernatural areas ("Lady of the Water" is no "Signs" or "The Sixth Sense" in the supernatural department), then I'm sure (or hoping, at the very least) that you'll understand what I mean.
Waiting for my next Movie of the Moment. I hear The Blood Diamond and Martin Scorsese's The Departed are worth watching.
"For a moment, I see
You're staring at me.
For a moment, I feel
You're not just a dream - you're real.
For a moment, you smile
So innocently - it drives me wild.
For a moment, I think -
But then the hope easily sinks.
For a moment, we touch
And I find I've never loved this much.
For a moment, our hearts talk
Even during a silent walk
For a moment, you embrace
Suddenly you're observing my face.
For a moment, you kiss my hair
I do believe you're beginning to care.
But in a moment, as always, you'll gone
And I'll be left to continue moving on.
In a moment, you'll say goodbye
And I can't help but cry.
In a moment, you'll wave
There goes the one who makes me feel safe.
In a moment, you'll still be the same
And I'll realize, it was my head playing a painful game.
In a moment, you'll turn
What's this feeling, always making me yearn?
In a moment, the feeling's dead -
You were mine, only in my head."
This is her sad rhyme -
The one who was by his side all this time.
But soon as he turns to go
This is what she doesn't know:
That, for a moment, he paused...
For a moment, he felt lost.
For a moment, to himself, he says -
"If only we could stay that way...
For more than a moment.
For more than a moment.
For more than a moment."
Why Not Me?
Today's her birthday -
That girl loved by all.
She got everything she wanted
Made a couple more hearts fall..
And I sit in the corner
Waiting to feel
How it is to feel so special -
Would I be more real?
That girl who's got the perfect life -
She waves as she passes me by.
It must be wonderful to feel
That you'll always receive a smile.
But I pass her by, too
And I'm taken by surprise:
The girl everyone knows
Can look me in the eye.
Her eyes are wide and cheerful
While mine are soft and shy.
Her eyes are meant to be beautiful
While mine are meant to cry.
Today is no longer her birthday
But hardly anything changed.
Her skies were clear as heaven
While mine were shadowed by rain.
It must be wonderful to feel
As if the stars would conspire for you.
It must be great to feel
As if you own that pairless glass shoe.
She has a hand to hold, that beautiful girl -
She claims someone's heart.
She, whose life is larger than mine
She, whose features are a work of art.
They pass me by, and again she waves
The girl that everyone sees.
Everyone - even you, as you hold her hand
And that's why you'll never belong to me.
He's Telling You Now...
He never asked for us to finish - He just asks that we try.
He never asked us to change who we are - He just asks that we try to make who we are better.
He never loved us because of something we've done - He just does.
He never despises us for a mistake - He likes when we make mistakes and run back to Him for help, like a child who thought he could put the puzzle together, but realizes he can't.
He never wanted for us to dislike life for all its disappoinments - He wanted for us to love life for all its blessings.
He never asked that we love Him in return - He leaves that for us to decide.
He's never left our side - He's just always there, waiting to be noticed.
He doesn't ask you to be His amidst noise and crowds - He asks you when you two are alone and when your heart is most searching.
He never considers Himself special - as to a lover, He is just another of the many who wait to be paid attention to. Yes, even He waits His turn.
Even mistakes and messes are scripted and planned in Him.
He's talking to you now - Are you listening?
I am, and I find my shaky feet and light footsteps taking steps one by one towards Him.
He waits. He always waits for you. For me.
Such powerful yet delicate Hands created her...
New beauty, new hope, new life..
(my mom's friend's baby, Nicole - taken during our company outing)
Crush. Rush. Hush. Push.
(If you read that as crush, rush, hush and puh-sh, I shall laugh at you. It's PUSH. :P Hahaha. Anyway.)
Crush. Do I dare, or do I not? I wouldn't know. Even if I miss the feeling of giddiness, and I'm running out of giddy books to read. Until now, that line from The California Club still applies - "It's the one thing that you want most in the world... And you're not willing to take a risk?"
But let me rethink. IS it the one thing I want most in the world? Goodness, I want a whole lot of things, so it's hard to keep track. Sometimes, I'm jolted by something, and then I remember, "Hey, I wanted that." Yeah. I'm weird that way. But a dear, dear friend tells me, "You're irreplacable that way." So maybe today, the word crush turns into something else. It's no longer (or maybe just for the moment, it isn't) the crush that connotes a feeling of giddiness and messages of "I love you's." No, today, I'm literally crushed. Crushed by an overwhelming number of emotions - and boy, don't you just hate when that happens? - but mainly just one.
Crushed by the good. I was reading through my saved messages last night (I save messages that make me feel nice. Call me baduy, I don't care.), and I realized that the Youth stand united in hurt - because of all the hurt each one has gone through. Those hurts have led us all to try our best to change the world of and/or for someone. We are driven by our hopes that another may not go through the same hurt as we have gone through. Or, if God really chooses it, we accept it, but we stick by the person, that they may not go through it alone, as we might or might not have. To have been a recipient of such show of affection and unity - even if it's only during major storms (during my sharing, from Kathy, Joni and most everyone), or if it's during my everyday drizzles (from Leo, Abbey and Kev) - has been such a great honor and a great sensation that sometimes, I kind of wonder when it'll start raining again. (Just wondering, not wishing. :P) To have been needed or appreciated for such a miniscule task (such as being the scribe for Project YEild, or contributing a minor alteration to a module, or even coming up with a 10-minute script) is such a little miracle in disguise. I appreciate every tiny mutter of gratitude - they help heal me, strengthen me, prepare me for my next step.
Rush. Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire (thank you, thank you very much)! My schedule is... Un-be-freakin'-lieve-able. Let me put it this way. I've got the Youth activities that I try as much as possible to attend. I've got the yearbook meetings every Friday, and its deadlines hardly a month apart from each other. I've got four to five different presentations due for Filipino - all due within the last three to four weeks of the first quarter. I've got a courtroom drama T.V. show script to write, and then to film, also due the same time. Then there's the UPCAT in early August. If you think about it, almost everything's happening or due at the same time. Calendars and clocks are almost literally biting at my heels, urging me on. I'm not even supposed to have time to write, but I couldn't help it.
Hush. How I wish the world would say that to me. I just want to go back to my silence, even for just a little while. Back to my cool silence, where I'm wrapped by my soft, warm blanket and pillows. Back to my calm silence, where I'm curled up with a good book. Back to my dreamy silence, where my imagination continues to thrive - even in my sleep. But, time is of the essence, and all I can do is pray for a chance to hush.
Push. That's all I've got left to do. I'll keep pushing up this hill - no, mountain if I have to (and I really have to). I believe this mountain is not endless. At some point, I'll reach the peak, where the air presure is so unbearable, and I'll be too tired to even sit. And when I do reach the peak, I'll have nowhere to go but down again. Down to my level and balanced plains and fields - bumpless, rockless, smooth and soothing for my tired lungs and aching feet. Then, and only then, will I be able to stop pushing my boulder without having to fear it rolling towards me to squish me, or rolling far away from me to leave me purposeless.
I'll just have to trust Him. Or not. I don't have to. Because I already do.
Crushed by beauty.
Rushed by time.
Hushed by the stillness.
Pushed by the climb.
(my sister and my cousin running along the beach of Antique at dusk)
Mix and Match
A beautiful sunset that I tried to capture - in all its glory -
while I was in Antique in early June.
I love when the rays are so visible.
Don't you just find it exhilarating when you see or experience something that's related to your personal life - and then you feel like The Big Guy Up There wants to tell you something? Or maybe He's just showing you ways of expressing how you feel because you never really knew how to let it out? I've been having that a LOT lately. And it's kinda funny. And sometimes nostalgic. Sometimes sad and regretful. Mostly, it's just a pleasing coincidence. It's like someone up there's really watching you carefully - so much so that He's proving it to you by sending you little hidden messages throughout your day.
"Nobody told me you'd been crying every night. Nobody told me you were dying - but didn't want to fight." - Let Me Be the One
Ok, ok. Senti song. So what? We've all got it in ourselves. Some more close to the surface than others. Some more expressive of it. I can't relate to this word per word. Actually, I'm feeling this more:
"Nobody told you I'd been crying every night. Nobody told you I was dying, but didn't want to fight."
Yes. For some reason, self-sacrifice is my game. Nostalgia took over and WHAM! Hit again. Too many people tell me I'm too good to others to the point of giving up too much of myself - to the point of shedding tears for the one who's hurting me, because all I want is for that person to STOP hurting me so that I can't consider him bad. My friends told me that I should cry because I'm hurt - and that's ok. It's normal. But I really didn't feel like it. So, here I am, relating to these lines. It's been quite a while. But stil - "Nobody told you..." and maybe, I just want that person to know, if only to let that person know it wasn't easy - to let that person know that I gave up quite a lot for his/her sake. Yes. Somewhere in my unhealthy invisible selflessness, I long to be appreciated and noticed. Which leads me to God's little message number two.
"You've put yourself aside long enough. Look at all those people you sacrificed parts of yourself for - parts of your dreams for. They're all excelling. They're all ahead of their game. This time, think of yourself. Your friends will not take it against you. In fact, real friends will help you with it, and not dislike you because you're trying to make yourself better as they have. You more than deserve it. You may not think I knew what you were doing, but I know that this is your purpose. I've always known." - My Mom.
Mothers are such mysteries. You'll always find a way to clash with her - but clash as you might, you'll end up so attached to her anyway. And I love that she's constant in my life. My own mom told me this one afternoon after our first couple of days of school. It's strange. I thought that she always simply thought that I was simply lazy to go after my dreams and my goals. It's what I read from her mannerisms. But then she goes and says this, and it makes me want to cry in self-love. I was really doing something right after all. I've waited SO long for some sign of approval. Many of us wait for it to come from our parents. I wanted to know if what I felt was right, really was right after all. I wanted to know if what I was doing this whole time was a great leap towards more failure. But my mom proved me wrong. People do notice. They just wait for the right time to express it, maybe. And it kind of makes sense. If she had told me this before now, I'd probably have thought she was just saying it to make me feel better. Once again, The Big Guy Up There proves He's perfect. He's perfect in timing - and that's something we humans can never get right. There'll always be something quite off, no matter how long we wait. If we knew how to time ourselves perfectly, there'd be no such things as surprises, or taking risks.
Risks. I've never been one for risk-taking. I can't even really speak up for one of the things I've wanted for almost a year now. And again, this little issue is addressed by coincidence:
"It's the one thing you want most in the world.. And you're not ready to take a risk for it?" - Joel, from The California Club by Belinda Jones.
I had to read this line over and over again, and I thought, "Boy. Belinda Jones knows her stuff." Then it struck me. How many of us have those "one thing we want the most's", and still can't find the courage to take a risk for it? I figured that the worse we want something, the harder it is to take a risk for. Most likely, there'll be something holding us back - something to be lost if things don't turn out well. In my case, there's just as much to lose if I take a risk for my "one thing I want the most," than if I don't take that risk:
Pro's: I MIGHT get what I want, and have a nice little happy ending.
Con's: I MIGHT lose what I already have, and have a tragic telenovela for a lifestory.
Try getting yourself out of something like this. Even Houdini can't contortion himself enough to get outta this ditch. Ah well. C'est la vie.
Little coincidences? Maybe only to us. To Him, it's all scripted. He doesn't even really have to write much. Somewhere around the world, people are finding that they can relate the exact same line to their lives. All He has to do is mix and match.
Now that would be something I'd enjoy doing. But for now, I'm good. His mix'n'match powers are pretty darn fun on the receiving end, too.
A rose is beautiful, despite its thorns.
(Taken during our Baguio trip.)
Who Am I?
That's right. Even now, during our final year in PAREF Woodrose, I still tend to remain blank when asked this question. Shouldn't I know by now? Shouldn't I be sure of this, so that I know what will truly suit me in the not-so-distant future? No. That's my answer. No, I shouldn't. Frankly, I'd be scared of myself if I were sure.
Here's the truth: If I knew who I truly am - and sure of it at that - then I should be the wisest person in the entire world. No one should be truly certain of who they are - especially not at this age. We may know things about ourselves - things that make up what might be a large portion of ourselves - but we cannot know ourselves entirely. Why?
Because we are the worst at being our own judges. We may know ourselves best, but that doesn't mean we know everything about ourselves. Some things, we simply miss and others simply don't (though they miss other things, too). Admit it, there are some things your friends say about you that surprise you. "Really? I'm like that? I do that?" Who hasn't asked themselves that question? I find myself pleasingly surprised when a friend mentions a talent I never knew I had. I find myself appalled at the thought of myself truly having an annoying quirk that friends notice. What's the point? I DIDN'T KNOW.
We cannot know ourselves entirely also because of change. Unending change. Don't you just usually brush it off when people say that you've changed? "That's not true, I'm the same person!" But here's the thing: you encounter yourself every single day, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three to four weeks a month, twelve months a year and God knows how many years in your lifetime. How do you know you haven't changed? It can even be related to your physical appearance. You see yourself in the mirror everyday, and you don't notice yourself getting chubbier or thinner. You present yourself to someone who hasn't seen you in months, and they say, "Did you gain/lose weight? You look chubbier/thinner!" or "Oh my gosh, you're so thin already! Did you go on a diet?" See, personality-wise, it's the same thing. You may not notice that, with each passing day, you've grown more quiet, more mature, more talkative, more bitter, more sweet or whatever.
Funny, isn't it? We ourselves are our best and worst judges. What an irony! Maybe... Maybe that's who I am - or what I am, rather. I'm this colossal irony. I'm mostly humble, but I do take pride in some of my capabilities. I'm quiet, but sometimes I'm brimming with emotion that I explode via words. I'm generous, but when it comes to a number of things I really keep my eye on, I'm selfish. I'm loads and loads of different ironies.
Maybe that's another reason why we can't fully grasp who we are - because we're too ironic for our own selves or minds to handle.
