CLOSURE

(Background music) "And so it is... Just like you said it would be. Life goes easy on me... Most of the time. And so it is... The shorter story... No love, no glory... No hero in her skies."

I refuse to play this charade any longer...

"I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes..."

I no longer realize the worth of all these...

"And so it is... Just like you said it should be. We'll both forget the breeze... Most of the time. And so it is... The colder water... The blower's daughter... The pupil in denial..."

You are nothing to me...

"I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes..."

How could I have been so blind, so stupid?!

"Did I say that I loathe you? Did I say that I want to... Leave it all behind?"

This isn't hate or bitterness...

"I can't take my mind off of you... I can't take my mind off of you... I can't take my mind off of you... I can't take my mind off of you... I can't take my mind off of you... I can't take my mind... My mind... My mind... 'Til I find somebody new "

I just don't love you anymore. Goodbye...

SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION

Lately I've been so impulsive. I've made many changes and done things at the last minute. My closest acquaintances can actually attest to this. And right now, there is something I want to change... Before it's too late. It's my gift. Call this another one of my overreacting, but for me it isn't actually. What's crazy, pathetic and sometimes romantic about me is my habit of giving gifts - to the people I am not that much acquainted with or those whom I want to impress, I give them 'the best' I can give - may be expensive or of high quality, you may say. And to people who are close to my heart - I give them one of my own, a personal item. I don't know what people can infer about this but I say it's the best thing I can really give. To give one's own, is to give oneself - that is love.

(Note to anti-romance readers: I apologize for the fancy shmancy Shakespearean trash you might be thinking of what I am writing about, but I just can't help it. Not to worry, I will make this one very short - plain and simple.)

I have almost 17 hours to decide. This is giving me a hard time. Really. For once, I am hating what I am good at - last-ditch efforts (or for students - cramming). It's not really a tough thing to solve, only if I know how I feel. The problem right now is I don't know what I feel. Discernment... How can you decide on something so soon? Tell me the answer Liz, Viola, Celine, Mathilde, Jane, Carrie, Clementine, Charlotte... Maybe what I heard from the old woman is true - that there are some things no matter how prepared or good, can never be relied upon. (Defense of the heart: Am I talking gibberish? I don't think so.)

I consulted. It was funny because I asked questions which I knew all the answers all along. I just could not admit it. I am writing this paragraph almost 30 minutes after I have written those it had preceded. As I wrote the first part, I heard the music, it was there, I was captivated. All of a sudden. It stopped. Bang. All that remains is silence.

I AM MR. DARCY

I have just watched Pride and Prejudice. I have been swept by Pride and Prejudice. Oblige me to make a movie review of Pride and Prejudice.

I am bewildered by the presence of Liz Bennet, Keira Knightley... I love you... Most ardently.

This feeling cannot be captured by words. Indescribable. So much for words.

PS:
Now I am totally convinced that letter-writing is one of the most romantic outputs of the expression of love. (Just as expressed by Sebastian Valmont in Cruel Intentions - emails are for pedophiles and he also told something about the telephone which I forgot because I haven't watched it recently. I used to know those lines by heart, dangnamit.

FEVERED CONVULSIONS

Remember the stereotypical situation in films when a man is about to die, his life plays through his mind - flashbacks and memories. I'm sort of in that mood right now. I am very sick. Call it overreacting but it's healthy sometimes to think that you're about to die so that when the actual situation takes place (except for those which you can no longer control it like sudden deaths) you'll be ready.

As I went through the pictures, awards, and letters, I am reminded of the following: (in random order, I think... Haha)

First, that people who haven't mingled with me always get the wrong impression (that I am suplado and mayabang). True to all my first-time classmates in high school. Later on, they find out how crazy and outgoing I am. Silent water truly runs deep.

Second, that I am really not the marrying kind. This I may credit to my 'notes' with the 'women of the past'. I can also admit the fact that I am a prick. I really laughed hard when I went through the things I said before - typical male panunuyo and all. Very not me.

Third, that wisemen truly exist, even if they are perceived as deranged in some ways. I thank those who believed in me even if I was still in the underdog stage.

Fourth, that people still look at me the wrong way even after they met me, that I am misunderstood and misjudged (which remains fine with me) Let's just say there were things that were meant to happen.

Fifth, that I am proud to be a Ruizian. That I do not regret having stayed there for 10 years. That if I could go back in the past, I'd be happy to do everything all over again wholeheartedly. (Note by ego: Not all people get to be king. Haha. [Defense by self: Hey, this lasted as long as it could last. Even a blessing like this had its drawbacks, and for me, they were major and personal.])

Sixth, that despite the fact that people kept on saying walang magbabago and all those forever shiznits, things have really changed. Despite the fact that communication lines were cut, I'm just glad I've met these people and was happy with them for the time being.

Seventh, that she did love me. That she knew I love her. That she told me she doesn't deserve that love. (And here we go...) That I will meet someone who will deserve that. But what she doesn't know is that I will continue to do so, even if it remains uncredited, unreturned... That's unconditional.

Well if indeed I die today or if I don't wake up tomorrow, I guess I've had my flashback. Although I must say I still have lots of things to do and are planning to do like - say direct Meryl Streep in her last Oscar winning role.

RESTRICTED

I can no longer upload photos in my Multiply for this month. I should really start choosing pictures to upload (quality versus quantity!). Well, since May doesn't start until next week, I'll be uploading some of the pictures (notably those which I will be capturing come doomsday on Saturday [Note to gossip folk: No details for you today.]) in my Flickr. So if you wanna see them, just wait for them to appear on the zeitgeist down below. Or you could just click any photo there and just browse.

I was supposed to narrate to you the unfortunate events of my wretched life today but I am too sick to tell (sick as in physically [emotionally? Hmmm... I'll think about that.) Funny thing is that just when I started to be all giddy (Note to self: Overstated!) about you know what, that's when my entire system seemed to be very uncooperative - most especially my voice, because I'm losing it again literally. Hopefully I'd make it. Else... Wait, there is no else. On second thought, she could hate me for the rest of her life and never talk to me. Thus, I can finally move on. (Notes by ego: First, as if she'll be that affected if and when what you said will happen. Second, you'll never move on. I'm telling you. It's a curse. Take my word for it.)

Talking about my frustration as writer, I've already finished my premise and plot details of my upcoming story (here's hoping it'd materialize soon.) The hopeless romantic movie geek that I am, it sort of became a pastiche of my various favorite stories (which I need not mention because if you are an avid reader of this gunk, you should know what these are by now.) Although I must say the ending (which I am unsure whether it's predictable or not) is very me. (Haha) I might be doing this next week. I'm aiming for a one-day wrap-up for this. Well, whether I'll be able to do that or not, it's very fitting that I do this next week. You know why. (Do you? I was hoping for a no. [Here I go again with this nonsense]) Besides, I am planning to sleep for 2 days (well not entirely 2 days, you know what I'm getting at; it's just so pathetic that I am not sleeping well, to think that it's my vacation!)

I miss Carrie Bradshaw.

STORY

Is this one of those moments where our main character (which in this case is yours truly) is torn between whether his future will be his past or present? Stay tuned for more details of this drama anthology in the life of a young man named Mark. (Haha)

Before we get to the details of that issue, I would like to announce first that I am finally returning Becca's Dream down to the hatchet. I have realized that I am incapable of restoring and finishing it as of this moment. Therefore, I have no other choice but to abandon it for the mean time. However, my frustration as a writer will continue and will materialize in the form of a new concept. In this case, it's the one I've mentioned before - the flashback of the story of old flames within the duration of a pop song where the daughter of our protagonist is the FOIL of his ex-girlfriend. Perhaps my hopeless romanticism will be of good use in this aspect. (Finally I'll have a better way of channeling this 'emotion'.) What's good and weird (at the same time) with this is that I have set a deadline for myself to finish this work. Tentatively, I have almost 2 weeks to create a 50-page (or so) romantic comedy (And yes, it will somehow be based on real people and events... Haha)

Now to the more personal part... (Haha. You think I'd really talk about it here? Well, you better think again, cause I won't. If you wanna know more about it then just do better with the deciphering of my senseless posts in this wretched grave of infernal ideas. Haha.) What I can tell you is that a FOIL does not only exist in stories of fiction, you can also feel their presence in real life. Just like me with *censored* and *censored*...

Ain't life a b!tch?

BROKEN

I really hate this habit of mine of starting things and never finishing them. Perfect example: Becca's Dream. I started this then-novel proposal of mine when I was in second year high school. I am now in second year college, and it now serves only as an unfinished short story (Note to life historian: Actually, if it will be a novel, an unfinished novel with minute chapters.) Because of this mediocre attitude, I am requiring myself to finish at least one (actually planning for three here) product before the first semester begins. Having said that, I am planning to dig up my "Seconds" idea to create a trilogy of stories which are intertwined (of course) a la Michael Cunningham's The Hours. However, note that it won't be necessary to make a spinoff out of a specific text (contrary to my examples of the theme such as what happened at Celine's room in Before Sunset after the supposed ending in the film [Note to life critic: Yes, there won't be a day where you won't hear of that. It's turning into my Bible actually. Haha.]) I am really looking forward to materialize these thoughts which have already piled up in my train of thoughts. (Good thing I've taken notes here in this blog and in my cellphone [thanks to a suggestion by one of my new friends {If you're reading: Hey there! By the way, I have this anonymity rule here. I rarely mention names of people to protect their privacy (actually more of mine... Haha). I'm sure you know who you are. *wink*}][And if you're the person I think you are, no you're guess is wrong. Nobody except us are aware of this surprise friendship.][You know what I'm actually getting lost here. It's like Math. Ooooh... I'm having a headache here. Let's end this right now before I erase everything, and for those who are totally clueless of what I am speaking of, don't worry, we're on the same page])

You know what, I am really getting the hang of the Harry Sandborn/Sebastian Valmont personality of yours truly. I'm almost turning into a pro here. (Note to life critic: I can dream can I? I'm sure I made clear of the fine print I said last time concerning this.) Although I must admit that I am getting woozy of this multiple personality disorder I am facing, I am still open for the Vito Corleone attitude I've been dreaming of before. Am I right Clemenza?

Tomorrow, I resume the writing of Becca's with the aide of some people willing to volunteer in helping out (Here's keeping my fingers crossed that there will be people who'll do so.) And during the following days, I might start reading Specimen Days for added influence and inspiration (Although I doubt that I'll accomplish this, knowing the fact that I have really bad reading habits.) I might also start the other stories included in the trilogy (Before the keen observations I shall use as materials fade away from my mind). And I will try my best to write better in this journal (Try to eliminate the freewrite aspect) as to provide a reader-friendly nature. Now wait a minute... On second thought, I might retain this to shoo people away so I won't need to make a private journal. (Haha. Can you feel the sadistic glee within me?)

For now... That's all folks!

I WALK THE LINE

Only a few days remain until we see each other again, until that fateful day. Just so you know, I haven't made a single preparation whatsoever. Nothing to wear. Nothing give. Nothing to give? Yes. You don't own me anymore.

I met someone. Need I say more?

SILENCE OF THE HAMS

Tonight was one of those interesting nights. I ate lamb. Pigged out on it actually. This probably explains why there is a Hannibal Lecter side within me now, overlapping the Sebastian Valmont features. I can't elaborate on this now. Perhaps, more on this next time. When there's a reason to tell. (Note to self: I should really get a private blog. Haha. I just have to. But that would mean I'd be having 3 now. Well, actually 5 when you include the Multiply and Friendster. Oh well.)

After the Before Sunrise and Before Sunset fever, I have a dilemma between Closer and Lost in Translation. Another conflict spills from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind but I seem to have gotten over it. Perhaps there's no one I want to erase from my mind right now. Or maybe there is, that's why I'm avoiding the film because as it tells, there is no certainty that one can totally erase love from one's mind and heart. (Alright, enough about this before we go deeper into the love area again. [My apologies for my past entry which might have been bitter {Note by ego: So what, it's your blog anyway?}]) Perhaps you're asking why shouldn't I just watch both. Well, I don't do that. When I watch stuff like these I internalize (Haha) so I can't watch both at the same time. Anyway, I'm feeling the evening's beauty right now so I might opt for Lost in Translation. (Note to critic: Yes, this explanation has something to do with paragraph number 1 of this entry.)

In the coming days, I am planning to finish Becca's Dream. Although the modernist within me is telling me to do something modern a la Before Sunrise/Before Sunset (Here we go again, folks!). However, I might still overcome this and finish my 4-year-old novel in the works. For if ever I might consider modernism and finish this, the Michael Cunningham within me speaks one word: integrate! (A la The Hours... Which I also want to watch but I can't because I want to watch it after reading Specimen Days which I can't do because... Well, it's reading! It's something I don't do often. [Note to life critic: Yeah. Yeah. I know. I have lots of superstition and all that shiznit. Mind your own @$$! See, you're awakening my psycho bitter side!]) I am psyched that I am starting to work again... On something productive - that will not hurt me physically while doing so (Note to life critic: FYI: I have no regrets at all for having quit being part of the film production. No sir, I am very happy that I can walk properly again.)

Finally, I am putting filmmaking aside (for now). For the sake of not having confusion as I venture into writing. But not to worry dear fans (Note to self: As if you have any!), I am preparing to get ready to make a comecback... soon. Oh and by the way, I am moving on. Yes, I am. (Note by ego: You don't believe me? Then don't believe me!)

ON AND ON AND ON

You called me to say how much you wanted me to be there. You even mentioned that the forces that be wanted me so badly to come; That it was them who requested my presence because of their admiration for my spoken words during the night we parted. You asked me if I could come and I said I would. You asked me again and again and I even had to bluff that I wouldn't come. After I assured you, you said you were happy. You told me the details of what would happen that fateful day. You explained to me why I am only limited to that role that there was no limit at all. You elaborated on why I was chosen to be there and do that. You spoke of beautiful things uttered by them to me. You uplifted me. Raised me up on the pedestal which we shared a long time ago - our relationship, that had stood there, years ago. But then you had to tilt it. The audacity, which you dare show, is sickening. How high I stood there. How high we stood there. Then you had to push me. Yes, you did mention you have totally forgotten him, but you dare speak the words that you easily forget - forget everything. I ask you, how about ours? Is it that much forgettable? Are they that much forgettable? All those moments? The times we shared, the talks, the feelings, the love? Do you remember them, at all? I kept each one of them treasured not only in my memory but in my heart. And you? I am losing it. I don't know how I long I could go on like this. I don't know how long I could stay like this. I don't know how long I would love you. As they say, the greatest thing you'll ever learn is to be loved and be loved in return. I am human. I too, need to be loved... My only mistake was that I gave you all that I had - to the point that I could no longer love anyone else at all.

MORGAN FREEMAN

I want to do a voice-over using the voice of an old dying Englishman. For whatever reasons, I do not know.

I want to write stories. I want to read them out loud. But I cannot do this right now for there is no time.

I want to stretch time. I want to change history. I want to make history. I need meaning.

I want to be crazy. Just like Virginia Woolf. I fear it's drawing near. I can hear them. They're coming.

GAROTE

Tonight I emulated sadism at its finest. Along with some old friends, we reminisced about our indefinitely postponed play for one of Rizal's greatest works - Noli Me Tangere. From a stellar cast and powerhouse script, we eventually headed into a parody; what I speak of is not just a typical comic parody but a very sexual torrid adaptation of the nationalistic novel. Though it sounded like a typical horny flash of imagination at first, it actually made sense to me - why not make a dozen of rape scenes with a dash of torture, all revolving on a central theme - a massacre: death of a country by collonial poison. After all, a cancer is mild compared to a physical annihilation. Exaggeration though brutal is logical.

SEBASTIAN

Only if I wanted to, I could be a Sebastian Valmont in my own rights, minus the killer looks. (Haha) No, really. I don't want to swim in self promotion but I am capable of inducing heartburn. (Haha. It's pretty funny yet very true) Only if I had the guts, I could narrate to you fine examples of situations that could support this theory of mine. But as I have told you in my previous sermons on the mount, love is never by my side. (Don't worry, I can't see the connections either. Haha)

I wanted to talk to her today. But due to circumstances I couldn't understand, I forgot to. Instead, I did my Sebastian routines. (I'd really love to elaborate but I just could not. Haha) What made this day more interesting in terms of basking in gigolo glory was being reminded that Jose Rizal too was a cavaliere servente with the ladies.

I won't make this entry long. I wanna make it as smooth as Sebastian does in his journal, minus the bitching art. I'll end with my favorite line of his in the film, "You preach about waiting for love. Well, here it is, right in front of you, and you're going to turn your back on it. So that makes you a hypocrite." I love this quote. The irony of it is that it never occured to me that it's best suited to be told straight to my face.

ONE NIGHT STAND

After some moments of meditation, I came to realize how much I love 'her'. That despite the fact that many women have been part of my pathetic life, despite the fact that there have been many women who could have bested her (in ways I need not mention), who could have been so much more than a plain friend, I always keep on coming back to her arms like a son to a mother. Because of her, I could no longer commit, to almost any other person. This brings up another reason why I like those films that I need not mention, it's because I'm only great at 'one night stands' and chance encounters, on first meetings , on the getting to know more about part. Just as Jesse tells it on the film, people in love would eventually discover that there are things that they hate about the person they 'love'. I am so great at this that I could no longer sustain great relationships when you compare it to our first encounters. And I owe it all to this person I very much 'love'.

When I think about it, I fret I'd never feel the same thing for another person. She taught me what love is and in turn stole from me the capacity to do so. That's why I hate being in love.

Maybe we are meant to be. Maybe we aren't. Maybe I'm meant to be a Bob Harris. Maybe I'm meant to be a Jack Nicholson. Whatever happens, all I know is that I'll never be the same again.

PSYCHO

I have an idea. What if you have a day to live and you can only be with only one person to spend that fateful day? Who would you pick? And at the end of that day, do take note that both of you would die together.

You know what? This is the effect of overindulgence with romance and mushiness. Really. I have been immersed with these things for the past few days, both visually and linguistically, so to speak. The big problem is, I could not get over it.

Going to the journal aspect of this block... We talked today. This is really like Sex and the City, only with the genders interchanged. She's like Big who seems to have a radar that everytime when I am happy or when I seem to be moving on, she comes into the picture and all hell breaks loose. I am totally confused right now. More than ever. Really. Big thanks to you honey. You just seem to hit it big. And I couldn't just seem to get over you. Congratulations. You've won again. The only question in this charade is that will this story's Carrie and Big end up in the end? Tell me the answer if you know. I've been dying to know. So I could finally have a life!

Right now I really do have a clear picture why I do not want to get married and why I am obsessed with Before Sunrise and Before Sunset. Thing is, I enjoy the feeling of being in love (of course, everybody does!) but there's just that plain fact that I couldn't stand it. Call me a loser or whatever, but that's the sad truth. So to all lovers out there, good luck with you. Go smack right in front of my face 'til you couldn't breathe no more and all cause I don't give a damn! And I am really sounding like an angry psychotic maniac arse (Haha).

I need my medicine. Maybe I ought to watch Closer or perhaps Casablanca for a heavier dosage. Actually I want to watch Love Story, but I couldn't because I don't seem to have a copy. I'll just get one as soon as possible. Also, a copy of Boogie Nights (very in context. Wow. Haha.) wouldn't hurt. That is if it's available here in this wretched part of the cruel world. For the meantime, I'm back to injecting more romanticism in my blood.

PS:
I am now addicted to 8701 yet again. I need a CD. Or better yet download all songs. I love Ethernet.

POP SONG

Alright. Kill me for having watched Before Sunrise and Before Sunset yet for the bazillionth time. This time, I brought with me something that may be of good use. Well, it's a concept - a sort of something which I could use for a future project, a screenplay of sorts.

At the start of Before Sunset where Jesse is asked about his next book endeavor, he tells the audience about a story that takes place within the duration of a pop song. A man stands before his daughter who is listening to a pop song. He freezes and suddenly he remembers one night where he and his ex-girlfriend stands above a car, in the exact position (as he is with his daughter) with the exact song playing. And the story is cut as soon as Jesse sees Celine for the first time in 9 years. Enough about Jesse and Celine. I wanna play with that thought, Jesse's idea that is.

I have no idea why I am excited with the story of strangers and old flames. Trace my biography, maybe we'll get an answer.

Last night was fantastic. Finally, after the endless parties, meetings, practices, weddings and debuts, I can now rest. The problem is, I don't know what to do now. It's not that I'm bored. It's because there's so many things I wanna do. Perhaps that explains why I can't materialize these thoughts I have. Try going through my previous entries and count the number of concepts I had and see if I had even done one. This is horrible. I need time. I need a freaking life!

By the end of the week, I am hoping to have finished either all movies I've bought which I haven't watched (this sounds promising, we'll bring it a level higher: include a review for each one... Err. I take it back. Do I wanna accomplish this or not?) or all books I've bought which I haven't read (this may be the most impossible. I loathe reading. I do. Good luck) or finish writing at least one of my concepts (this sounds good. Oh well, here's to my last days of vacation. Stop whining yours is ending. Mine's just getting started and it ends the same as yours. Haha. I'm really turning into the angry melodramatic ahole character I am)

A WALTZ FOR A NIGHT

For the millionth time, I want to watch Before Sunrise and Before Sunset again. I don't know what's with this film that keeps on absorbing me to watch it over and over again. Perhaps it's the excitement of strangers meeting and deciding to prolong their chances with one another; but wasn't the same thing shown in Closer when Alice and Dan met? Or perhaps it's the feeling of having an adventure on a foreign land where there's only the two of you and the world; well, this is also true to Lost in Translation as Bob and Charlotte met at Tokyo, isn't it? Perhaps it's the joy of seeing two people with their flames rekindled despite all odds; but isn't Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind a more exemplary film as regards this aspect? Or maybe - it's the simple fact that for me it's the most romantic and most realistic story, that I wouldn't mind it happening in my own real life. (Well, that depends, how REAL my life is; how real do I think everything that's happening around my surrounding is.)

Right now, I'm still tortured by the fact that I wasn't the one who wrote Before Sunrise and Before Sunset. It's beautiful, really, when you think about it. Despite the lengthy conversations, which cover an adult state of mind, it's beautiful in every aspect.

Jesse. Celine. Vienna. Paris. Delusion Angel. I don't know why I'm talking bout this. I'm so messed up, only if I could, I'd create a mirage of a stranger whom I wouldn't mind escaping with; escaping this peculiar and absurd world which I live in. I don't even know people anymore. I wanna drift somewhere, to some place, far, distant, remote, peaceful, where there is no one who could bother me and the person I am with - that is if I am with somebody. Else, I'd go nuts and go talk to somebody like Cast Away's Wilson. I don't know. I need to rest. Take time off. I need someone. And to hell, I don't know who that person is.

I want someone to sing me a waltz - show me that I still exist, even to that person's world. For all I know, I'm just a phantasm floating in this misery mire of darkness, loneliness and isolation. I'm a lost soul waiting to be found.

THERE'LL BE ANOTHER SPRING

I am very much into jazz right now. I just bought a CD of Good Night, and Good Luck. Despite having not watched the film, I pretty much enjoyed the soundtrack which featured the music of Dianne Reeves. This is the kind of music I would want to use when I get the chance to make a modern romance film. Reminds me of You've Got Mail. Having thought of that, I couldn't imagine this kind of music played in a political film: Good Night, and Good Luck. Apart from this, I am still not over with Moody's Mood for Love. Ah... Now I know what I'm gonna listen to when I'm retired, sitting at my porch, and writing my memoir...

NO DAY BUT TODAY

There are a million things I want to do yet so little time. I don't know what in hell I have done with my life. I'm turning back into the workaholic freak I used to be pre-college life. This sucks. Indeed, despite the fact that there are only 24 hours in a day, what matters most is what you do with all 24 of them. (Note to who could not understand: I heard this during a seminar once. Forgot when. It's all about maximizing your time.) Truly, I have been maximizing each hour to the fullest that my mind, body and soul could manage. Perhaps this could be my edge come judgment time, but hell, my body seems like it has gone through World War. My feet are effing sore. It has been days since they have been rotting and no development whatsoever has been showing.

My trip to bountiful was very interesting. It was like living in the set of Truffaut's Day for Night. You have know idea how these young lady celebrities are in real life. (Note to anyone: Haha... This has inspired me to write a short story about this experience. I'll make my own Day for Night. Indeed, bitches will always be bitches. Haha... More on this sometime soon on Kramthologies.) What's even more interesting are the people behind the scenes - the utility men, production assistants, production designers, make-up artists, etc. etc. etc.

Finally, after bazillion years of waiting, I was able to watch Rent on the big screen. The bad thing, I would probably agree with Roger Ebert's review that Rent is "the sound of one hand clapping". I really believe that the stage director shouldn't have helmed the screen version. It was too much for him to handle. They could have asked Rob Marshal or someone in the likes to direct it. Albeit, the good news is that I still enjoyed it. I had goosebumps while hearing the songs I used to sing before even being able to watch it. All in all, it was okay; not great, it didn't suck, it was just fine.

This week is one of my busiest. It's almost worse than college hell week. Well, at least I'll enjoy, some how. I think. For the meantime, I think I'll make myself occupied by either playing Battle for Middleearth, watching movies I haven't watched which are already rotting in my bedroom or read books I haven't read which are already rotting in my bedroom. And you call this a vacation? Bring me sophomore year, quickly! I bet I'd have more free time in that instance.

(Note to grammar freak: I am aware that I may have produced unscholarly traits of writing in this passage[?{Haha}] and I don't care. My mind is hibernating. You should also try doing so. Who knows, you might end up meeting Hannibal Lecter... [Now I know I'm making no sense at all.])