Kodaline blues

Kodaline is going to Manila and I don’t know what’s more heart-shattering news than that. Yes, I was hoping for it (God knows I am) but I wish it wasn’t this early; not when I still don’t have my own money to gratify all of my whims.

Like bruh, hindi pa nga ako nakaka move-on sa Paramore at The Script!

Now that they are in line for Wanderland Festival next year, for sure more people would know them and their music. And I kind of hate it..

Do you know the feeling when you want to keep something good just for yourself, that you don’t want people to find out about it? I was always like that. I am selfish of something that I grew to love. But then again, I know I can’t be possessive of something I do not own. Eventually, they’ll be big and all I can do is be more proud.

They were my best kept secret for three years now.. and this is really frustrating, I want to see them so bad. Imagine seeing the whole band on the center stage, serenading you L I V E. And you’ll think it’s a dream when it’s not. You’ve been waiting your whole life for this and finally.. Steve Garrigan himself, singing the songs which used to be your lullaby.

Oh, I could only imagine..

Dear future partner, I hope you listen to Kodaline (and Sleeping At Last). #para-paraan

 

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Redemption

It was past 9 pm and I’m just glad that KFC’s not crowded than what it has always been during weekdays.

In front of me was a man, probably on his late 20’s, all dressed-up with a guitar strapped on his back. I’m guessing he was also from the last service I just attended to in Victory; a musician perhaps.

The queue didn’t took so long, but it took him a minute (or so) to decide, until he looked behind and told me “sige, ikaw na muna”, looking embarrassed as he went to the side. (Hey I forgot to say my thanks!!!!)

I was staring at him the whole time I was waiting for my food to be served on my seat. And there he was, still so undecided, still standing at the back of the lane.

And it dawned to me…

Everyday we make life choices – from the food to eat, transport vehicle to ride on, people to talk to, clothes to wear, letter to encircle on test papers, relationships to commit and break… even living is a choice.

We are surrounded with multiple alternatives which gets us confused and uncertain of preferences to make. It is a natural tendency of human tho, to be indecisive. You see, we won’t ever be a hundred percent sure of everything in this world, but God was so sure about us.

“Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain: that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you.” (John 15:16)

Today, I choose to rise from the pit I’ve created myself. I choose not to be stucked from the bubble of regrets and pessimism that’s all in my mind. I choose to live my life, with Him at the center of it.

From this day forth, I choose to forgive myself and believe that everyday is a chance to start anew.

I stood up after having my take-home-food served on me. For the last time, I glanced at the man who’s still on queue. I hope he can finally make up his choices too.

Cold hands, tongue-tied

Body of dead with a beating heart, surrounded with hung clothes from the window sill. The streets were unusually quiet and the temperature’s down to 20. Sarah McLachlan’s songs were on repeat, tormenting me relentlessly. It goes with –

“It’s funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word

We are screaming inside but we can’t be heard.”

I glanced at the mirror behind me, looking like an actual mess straight from laundry. My mind’s hay-wired with thoughts again, I can’t control.

I wonder if it goes like this forever, and I’ll just end up getting used to it. Will the beasts stay inside us, or we just have to wait until they got tired and found another haven?

I can still hear Sarah’s voice in the background, with a melody slow and bewitching –

“Don’t let your life pass you by,

weep not for the memories.”

Enigma

I was having a casual conversation with an acquaintance when she called me out and told me I was dangerous.

The lights were already switched on, lighting the whole area of pavilion, that I can vividly see how her eyes fixated on me, trying to get a hold of how I would’ve reacted but to no avail. I munched my chips still, holding my phone in one hand, trying to compose a message I would never send. In between glances, I finally told her I’m not.

And for a moment, I thought, we are all terrified for something we can never understand. We spend our time figuring what ought to be and what would have been.

I stared at the students passing by, making their way out of school, straight to gate 3. I stood up and urge my companion to go home. I find no use of wholly opening up to someone I barely even know.

Or that’s what I really am, all this time. My walls were too high for someone to climb upon. Trusting someone is a gamble; it would take a life for me to risk.

Uncertainty

I think it all boils down to one point – we can’t recognize what we feel and we can’t voice it out without having the fear of judgment.

This whole idea of depression isn’t something that is easily accepted and understood in the society. People would call it as something vague and shallow or just an excuse of a person going through it.

That is why we keep it to ourselves, trying to comprehend the life we can’t understand. We feel useless and not worthy of all the love given to us that we ended up pushing people away. The chaos and war inside our mind was too loud, all we could do was scream in silence.

And it was excruciating – to find your place in this world when you can’t even know where you belong. Until then, we give up and let our inner demons eat us alive.

G A M E – O V E R

From Loren To Marimar: A PH Media Tale

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I never thought Philippine media can get more complicated than what it is right now. I was indeed walking blindly with my aspirations without further knowing what I get myself into. And creepy as it may seem, I could actually picture myself out as a kid with a random bulky guy behind me whispering, “hindi mo alam kung anong pinapasok mo, bata”.

That was the vast effect of reading From Loren to Marimar for an aspiring media practitioner like me. It was gruesome yet addicting.

Honestly speaking, it is exhausting to hear somebody generalizing media people as bayaranBayaran; just like their perception of policemen and women who resorted to immoral work just to earn bucks. It is frustrating, really. And I don’t even know where to put the blame. Is it to the officials who have been blinded by their greed of power? Or merely the journalists who had no choice but to accept payola because one, they need to earn a living and two, the fear of taking risks which is already affiliated to their work?

And years from now, I wonder, will I feel the same way as them? Even if I will, I hope I could hold on to the principles I’ve long made for myself. Because I don’t want people to look lowly at me and see me just as someone whose moral and principles could easily be bought. Quoting a journalist from the article:

“Once you’ve crossed the line you can never go back. Your integrity as a journalist will always be under question; some people will consider you as someone ready to sell your writing or editing skills anytime to the highest bidder.”