"Associative Looseness"

Directed by Marc Webb
Starring: Joseph Gordon-Levitt as the love struck Tom and Zooey Deschanel as the elusive Summer

This is a story of boy meets girl, boy falls in love but girl doesn’t.

Tom met Summer at the greeting card company where he works as a greeting card writer while Summer is an assistant to the manager. This was a case of love at first sight, for Tom. Summer is the type of girl who as Morgan Freeman puts it (the story is narrated by Morgan Freeman) a rare quality of a woman who gets 18.4 double takes while just simply riding a bus. In short, she’s the hot girl next door. Tom was just another loser who’s out of her league.

The movie is chronicled by the day they first met, they first talked, and they first had their day out (as compared to date since they were only “just friends” and the days of the heartbreak after it. Tom and Summer had a lot of things in common and for Tom, Summer is the one; which is not the case for Summer. She was not looking for a relationship or a boyfriend. In fact she doesn’t even believe in love. She just wants to “hang” with Tom, hold hands, pretend to be husband and wife at the appliance store, kiss at the copy room and have shower sex with him. She just wants to be friends… which then led to Tom’s wanting to put a label on it… that started the trouble.

Day 154, Tom admitted to himself he’s in love with Summer and how he loves everything about her. Even hearing the song “She’s Like the Wind” every time he thinks about her.
But then things just changed and she said they have to stop seeing each other. Day 290, Summer left Tom.
Tom had endured the ups and downs of the 500 days of being with and getting over Summer. After realizing that he will never be able to get her back he tried fixing his own life and went after his dream of becoming an architect. He also found out that the reason Summer left him was because for her, he is not the one. She found the one shortly after they broke up and she married him. Echoing to Tom the same sentiments that he has the first time he saw her, saying its fate and destiny. That was Day 488.

Day 500… Tom was in line for a job interview in an architect firm. Sitting across him was a girl who shared the same love for his favorite spot overlooking the city. They banter and Tom was drawn to her. He invites her out for a drink and she declined at first…but then she threw caution to the wind and said yes. Tom introduced himself and she smiled and said her name is Autumn.

Tom smiled… Day 1 of Autumn starts.
Though the plot is very simple, the movie was able to convey the happiness you feel when you’re in love and the sadness of being dumped. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy and occasionally chuckle at the senseless things couples do together that makes simple things memorable. It showed that things will never turn out the way you expect it to. Technically it was not a happy ending since they didn’t end up together, but just showing that after every Summer, Autumn comes next… literally and figuratively.

Yolanda was in her mother's kitchen playfully picking on all the dishes on the
table.

"Stop that! You're gonna spoil the food", her mother shouted at her.

"Tastes good, ma. You're cooking never changed", she replied and got up from her
chair and gave her mother a warm hug.

"How about you? Have you changed?"

"Whatever do you mean by that, ma?"

"Are you still seeing him?"

Yolanda let go of her mother and slumped back into her chair. She continued
fishing out the good parts of the food with her finger, while her mother waits
impatiently for an answer.

"Yolanda, how old are you now? that's no longer normal. You should know that."

Yolanda just continued picking on the food.

"I've explained this to you a million times already. You're a grown woman now,
you're getting married for goodness sake!", her mother was sounding frustrated.

Then she let out a deep sigh and with a gentle voice, she said, "Yolly, I'm sorry.
I know this is all my fault. Had I been there to guide you properly when you were
young...this, this could never have happened...this, this could never have lasted
this long."

Yolanda was just silent.

"What would happen if Damien finds out? Good gracious, that would be embarassing!", her mother continued.

"He would think that you have a loose screw inside your head."

Yolanda replied, "He loves me."

Her mother was not surprised by that, "I know, that's probably the only reason why he's marrying you."

Silence.

"Not him, Castro loves me", she silently told herself.


(to be cont..

"Where were you last night, Yolly?" Damien gently asked Yolanda while they were having their lunch together at the cafeteria.

"You always disappear like that. You worry me sometimes," he added.

"Why?", Yolanda asked back.

Damien took a mouthful and took his time in chewing his food. Yolanda waited for Damien's reply.

Then a weak answer emanated from his lips, "I'm worried that you might disappear and would never come back."

Yolanda started biting into her sandwich. Both were trying to mask the awkwardness and the obvious and diverting it into the food. Damien kept looking up at Yolanda while Yolanda nonchalantly bites and chews her sandwich, mindful of Damien's behavior.

"I don't understand why you're doing this," she asked.

"Doing what?"

"This", and she gestured her hands as if pointing to the invisible connection that they have called a relationship by others; devotion by Damien, and stupidity by Yolanda.

"Coz, I need to. Coz I want to. Coz I love you."

Silence.

Then suddenly Damien found the energy and with high spirits asked Yolanda, "So! Have you chosen the motif yet?"

Yolanda shook her head. Then smiled and answered, "I would like it to be pink.."

"Pink?? Cmon, that's too over-rated. Choose something else."

"Yellow."

"Too bright."

"Orange."

"Difficult to pair with other colors."

"Why don't you just choose it since you're the bride?", Yolanda sneered at a laughing Damien and stood up from her chair and tried to walk out.

Damien grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her arm around his shoulders so it would look like Damien is rubbing his face against her belly.

"Fine, fine. Sorry. We'll have pink then."

"No, I want black coz it's gloomy getting married to a dork like you!", Yolanda was still upset.

"Sure, I like black. Let's go with black."

Yolanda's face turned red with frustration as she stared at Damien who's totally having a good time picking on her. For a moment she stood there, looking at Damien, her arms around his shoulder and his arms around her waist.

Then something inside her melted. She stooped and gave Damien a kiss on the forehead. Then on the cheeks. Then on the lips.

Then she whispered, "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

(to be cont..)

Castro was sitting on the bed carefully watching Yolanda pace back and forth. She was biting her nails and lines on her face start to show everytime she rubs her closed eyes.

Yolanda spotted the chair at the corner and sat there, staring at Castro.

He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He had the body of a swimmer, lean but with arms and legs that can carry her full weight. A beautifully sculpted shoulder and faint lines that travel vertically and horizontally along his midsection. He had the most gorgeous locks that still smell fresh after a long day... And his eyes, his eyes that disappear whenever he smile; his eyes that melt her heart with just a glance; his eyes that show no emotion but happiness, longing and love.

He moved nearer to Yolanda towards the end of the bed, "What are you looking at?" He teased her.

Yolanda smiled and shook her head.

"Are you worried about skipping work today? Cmon, you deserve a day-off. You've been working really really hard. They should pay you triple for the things you do for them!"

Yolanda bitterly smiled.

"Who could ever think that a dump like the Archives could have such a talented and very sexy...employee like you?"

With this comment, Yolanda let out a chuckle. "You're crazy", she said and stood near the bathroom door.Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she whispered to herself, "I'm crazy."

Then she felt an arm around her waist and a familiar scent kissing her nape.

"Let's go back to bed", he murmurred.

Then her mobile phone rang. She let it ring until it became silent. Then a beep signalling a text message.

Yolly, where are you? How could you disappear like this again? Call me. - Damien


(to be cont...)

Five years had passed and Yolanda grew up to become an attractive young girl. She was still considered ordinary by girls who thought they're prettier than her, but boys would give her a second glance every time she walks by. She had gained a new moniker by then, the weird girl. Oftentimes people would tease her about Castro --
"Hey pony girl, where's your friend?"
or
"Hey weirdo! Where's your boyfriend??"

She would just look at them with contempt and then walk away.

Senior prom is nearing and Damien, one of the popular boys came up to Yolanda one afternoon. He had a long-stemmed rose which he hid behind his back while speaking to Yolanda.

"Yolly, may I ask you something?" Damien asked.
Yolanda was surprised but replied, "OK."
Then Damien started mumbling to himself while kicking the dust off his feet. Yolanda became more curious and urged Damien to speak up, "Was there something you want to ask?"
Damien took a deep breath and suddenly went down on one knee and offered the long-stemmed rose to Yolanda, "Yolly, will you ditch your special friend Castro and be my date for prom?"

Silence.

Then laughter emanated from the background.

Yolanda looked around to see Damien's friend laughing their hearts out with the scene. It's clear that they're making fun of her. Yolanda felt her eyes getting hot. She stared at Damien with disgust and started to run away. Damien tried to stop her by grabbing her wrist, "Yolly, I'm sorry." Yolanda quickly got herself free and ran as fast as she could, just like her tears flowing freely on her cheeks.

Trying to escape the humiliation, Yolanda took refuge behind the large Acacia tree. She sat down catching her breath with tears still continuously flowing from her eyes. Then a tall figure suddenly appeared before her. She cannot see who it was and assumed it was Damien, "Please Damien, leave me alone."
But the figure did not go away, and squatted infront of her instead. He took a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears and sweat from Yolanda's face.
Yolanda looked at him and instead of stopping, more tears rolled down her face. She saw the clearest brown eyes looking lovingly at her. Then he smiled and planted a kiss on Yolanda's wet cheeks.

Yolanda moved away and uttered, "Castro please...stop."

(to be cont.)

There was once a little girl named Yolanda. She was not pretty, she was not perfect, she was not smart...she was just, ordinary. No one knew her name, they just know her as the girl in class. She was the one always referred to by teachers as "You, with the ponytail, stand up." She was just there, unknown...transparent...invisible.

Yolanda had one friend though, his name was Castro. He was always there in the morning waking up Yolanda by throwing pebbles at her window. He would pick her up everyday, walk to school with her and they would spend countless hours together. They would run up and down the hill from school, breathless but laughing. Some kids would look at them and Castro would cover Yolanda and urge her to race home. They would dash again and one time Yolanda fell down. Castro stood tall over her but he never reached down to help her.
"Get up!", he said.
"Help me, please?" asked Yolanda.
But Castro just stood there smiling, "Cmon loser, you fell down, you can get up."
"I can't. My knee is bleeding."
Castro squatted infront of Yolanda and gently said, "If I help you now, who will help you when I'm gone? So, cmon and stand up. You can do it. I'll wait for you at your house."
Then off he ran leaving Yolanda in tears.

When Yolanda got home she did not see Castro waiting for her. She was devastated. She was heartbroken. Castro abandoned her. Just like the rest of the kids in school. He didn't want to help her. She went to the kitchen to wash her knee when her mother saw her. She helped her into the tub and gently caressed her bruised knee. She didn't ask what happened for a mother knew everything even before a child confesses. She wiped Yolanda's tears and told her to get out of her soiled uniform and change into clean clothes.

Yolanda, still teary-eyed asked her mother, "Ma, did you see Castro waiting for me outside?"
Yolanda's mother lovingly cupped her face with both of her hands and hesitated before speaking. She cannot find the right words to tell Yolanda what happened. She took a deep breath and kissed Yolanda's forehead.
"Ma, what is it?"
"How old are you now Yolanda?"
"I'm twelve Mama."

(to be cont...)

Catherine & Vincent

June 12, 2008 11:30PM

Singing show tunes and alongside Jason Mraz without really knowing what was the lyrics and just going along with the melody and anything that rhymes gives me a natural high. Takes me away from what’s bothering me, which at this point, I don’t really know. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I am again, taking my favorite steroid vitamins and earlier tonight had devised my own version of a long island iced-tea. I am a bit high, literally, drunk high if that’s what you call it.
I can’t believe I am actually writing right now. Mind you my spelling and grammar still kicks in. still can’t see any red lines or green ones at that.
I have thought about killing myself again today. Don’t take me wrong! I am not suicidal. I never was… and hope never will be. It’s just that, these kinds of thoughts amuses me and gives me a temporary escape route. Giggling at how I am going to do it without pain of course! Who would want to die in pain? Not me.
So, I figured sleeping pills… or maybe steroid overdose? Or perhaps drown myself in 20 capsules of Demerol or Valium or Stillnox; wherein I need to get a prescription to be able to purchase that stuff.
As you can see, I live alone so the success rate of my plan would be 100 percent. Since no one would check up on me in the morning or if I went out of my room or not…or if I even wake up. My body would only be discovered after a week or so, already stiff and in the process of decomposition.
Not a nice sight.
It would be the easiest way out. It would be the end of everything. It would grant me freedom, freedom from everything.
I feel that I have already captured the essence of what the world has to offer and comfortably accepted my fate that I will never get to experience those things I see on the television or go to places and hop on a train and go from one country to another.
Again, don’t take me wrong. I have a wonderful family and a wonderful lover. I am blessed enormously with them, that I feel I don’t deserve them. Maybe it has something to do with my being ***. I feel that no matter what I do, they will never accept me. And no matter what I do I will never be able to accept myself if the people around me are not happy with me.
i am giving up… on me.
I have thought of going away, to a place where nobody would know me. A place where I can work menial jobs and earn my keep and not be totally dependent on my family, or to someone… my meager earnings from writing can not sufficiently cover my stay in the city. And what am I doing in the city? NOTHING.
No job. No penny. And with a disfigured face.
But the thing is, where am I to go? Where am I going to stay? How can I leave when I don’t even have enough to cover for whatever?
One thing left to do… total isolation and seclusion. I have thought of going home to the province. Perhaps if I try to kill myself there someone would find me soon enough. But if you want to kill yourself, you don’t want to be found when you’re not yet dead. Right?
I sit here writing while listening to some songs. I feel contented. I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anything. I am happy with my misery. My masked depression, where more often than not, I cry at no reason at all.

I have love.

But I am choosing to leave it behind for a peaceful non-existence in this world. Selfish… yes, but I guess it’s about time.

My eyes are hot right now and suddenly my nostrils seemed filled-up. As I write these things, perhaps this feeling of hopelessness and loneliness would go away. As it always does. I pray to have the strength to take on another fruitless day. Another senseless existence; another day waiting… just waiting…

I am 26 years old and I have nothing to prove to myself. Sure, I came from a prestigious university, got an 84 percent in the national examinations and graduated first honors in grade school… so what? It does not mean anything now. All of that were just fruitless and senseless accomplishments that would not in any way help me in my endeavors in the real world.

Tuesday. Three more days till I leave a job I learned to love for five months. I was apprehensive at first about being an online English tutor for Koreans. It seems that this has become the job trend for the new blood. That is – jobless, newly grad, experience-less job hunters. I don’t belong in that group, heck no! I was comfortable sitting at home with my laptop, my cat, with the television and DVDs; until I craved to see the sun everyday, and see people in live action.

Hence, I applied. Got accepted and five months later, I resigned.

The experience was refreshing, for the first time I was surrounded with people my age or younger. In my previous jobs I was the youngest usually and the people I mingle with were mostly old men in their barongs and suits.

I must say I had a hard time saying goodbye. I was torn between two clashing rocks and there’s no way for me to escape but to drown or fly – I chose to fly. I will miss the people who accepted me for who I am and listened to all my rants about that concept who haunted me listlessly. I chose to break free and admit defeat and insipidness of my actions, and my existence. Who am I kidding? I like the people but I don’t like being taken advantage of. I must therefore assert myself and stand to my rights and say goodbye to a system that is bound to fail (I hope not, for the other employees’ sake). However, only people constitute that system so probably remove those people and the system would run smoothly, eh?

Nonetheless, I will surely miss the good times.

Thank you for the opportunity.

Writing Crisis

It’s been three weeks since my last writing project. A project that usually only takes 3 nights to complete, took me a heavy two weeks to finish. Those two weeks did not necessarily mean that I have been working the whole time. I spent the good half of my working time (that is 1 am to 6am) staring at my laptop and playing beautiful eyes with the fluorescent light.

I didn’t know what was going on with me. I have the energy to write but it seems that inspiration has deserted me. My fingers missed the feeling of stroking the keyboard but as soon as it touches the surface of the laptop, I freeze. Literally, and figuratively-I freeze. As I was suspended in a catatonic position my mind also went blank.

That was the first time I was at a loss for words. My mind was speechless and I am not able to write anything intelligible – not even a simple blog entry. Nada. Zilch. Nunca.

The surprising thing was, I was not scared. I was actually relaxed, even as the days turn into hours before my deadline. Perhaps my mind was wandering somewhere else that I had to go find it and force it to work, just this last time… and I did. Five hours before my deadline I spent an agonizing night finishing up a 25-page thesis proposal. Not my best, I know… but better than nothing, right?

AND…for the first time in a long time. This appears to be my first entry this year, after three months. I am writing again. I am back in the creative realm. Not just in the academic-commercial side of writing. Maybe that’s what's missing in my life. The creative flow - It had abandoned me long ago when I decided I am going to make money from my writings; which I did. So, it left me hung and dry. Until I summed up my courage to rouse it back in.

I saw a man flying in EDSA today. I thought there was a parade of some sort or the taxi cab hit a garbage bin; for a lot of chicharon flew off into the air-- then a man in a somersault somehow joined the charade. Then I blinked.

Moment seemed to freeze as we pass by slowly to take a look at the unconscious vendor on the middle of the road. Cars honking and everybody seems to be in a slow motion. Thick, dark red blood oozes out from his nose and was shining against the light of the sun. He was still. Unmoving. And so are we.

I felt guilty. I am a Nurse. What would you do in a situation like that? I was on my way to the hospital for a job interview with my friend, who was driving, and who owns the car. A 2-door car, which makes it difficult for us to stop and take the man in and rush him to the hospital. First, in a vehicular accident you should not move the victim for the risk of doing more damage in the spinal cord or anywhere, wait for the proper authorities to move him. Second, we are both women and for God's sake we can not fit him in the backseat lest we removed ourselves from the car first! And also, we can not carry him.

So we sped away, hoping to see MMDA in the road to report the accident (where were they when you needed them the most?). We passed by the yellow taxi who hit the vendor being flagged down by a black Ford. Then a passenger, a woman, came out. What a nerve! She doesn't even have the decency to stop the driver and tell him to take the victim to the hospital. She just went along for the ride. Good thing somebody flagged them or the driver would have gone away with reckless driving resulting to homicide?

This is the second time actually that I saw a man fly. It gives you the creeps and the image, amidst the noise of EDSA seemed to take a recording of it's own. It's like a THUG! Screeechhhh!!! Except that the screeching sound was not from the Taxi that hit him. It was from the passersby who had it in them to stop and be awed by the raw action laid in front of them.

However, you can not really blame the taxi driver for the vendor was not within his legal rights to be in the middle of EDSA. It's a no-passing zone. As the famous pink billboard says “Bawal Tumawid, Nakamamatay!” But as a human being, it is the responsibility of the driver to be concern and bring the victim to the hospital. Hoping it's not too late. I hope that vendor would be okay. Risking your life for how many cents in every cigarette bought; for how many peso in every chicharon bought, or mineral water, or just about anything.

It was just shocking I guess. I'm hoping i won't see one anymore again.

I am asking this question because it seems that everywhere I look, this makes a mark that somehow leaves me haunting for answers. Everyday I see things wherein I say to myself, is being in love enough?

There are a lot of things associated with being in love. Being “in love” actually is not what you should call it when you find another person amazingly interesting, lovable, and deliriously attractive. “In love” is a state, and like most “states”, it is something temporary, a fleeting moment, a certain status, something that won’t really last.

So, for the sake of argument and some things I read from The Road Less Traveled,:

The section mainly attacks a number of misconceptions about love: that romantic love exists (he considers it a very destructive myth), that it is about dependency, that true love is "falling in love", that love is cathexis, that love is a feeling. Instead love is about the extending of one's ego boundaries to include another, and about the spiritual nurturing of another, in short, love is effort.

I have been presented with some situations, about a friend having another lover apart from one she already has for nine (9) years. She’s having an affair and she claims that she loves both persons and if the original partner finds out about her affair, she’s going to deny it, and if worse comes to worst, she would not choose either of them. Now, I’ve been asking her if she loves the one she’s been with for 9 years, and without batting an eyelash she says Yes! Now, next question would be, then why are you having an affair with another person? Then here comes the most complicated part of the conversation. Mostly because I don’t approve of her reasons, and partly because I am biased as to listening her explanations why. Then I sort of realized, maybe she doesn’t love the nine years anymore. She’s just staying for the sake of the years spent together, which was rather absurd. So I asked her, “Why don’t you leave that person and stay with the new one? Since that new person obviously makes you happy.” She said no, she could never do that to the nine years, she can never find someone incomparable with the nine-year-person. Wtf? But, hey, that’s her life. My business? No.

Then here comes a TV show about a married couple with a declining sex life. The girl initiates the talk of open marriage and the guy agrees with the premise that it turned both of them on and he just wants to get laid. But in a turn of events, the wife really went out of her way and slept with another guy, believing that they have this “open marriage” thing worked out. However, the husband didn’t take it too seriously and was still waiting for the time when he and the wife could get it on in the sack. Finding out sooner rather than later, that the wife was already sleeping with another guy. So the husband went out his way and slept with another girl.

Sad thing. When this kind of things happen to good couples. Having another person on the side at the same time claiming being in love with the current beau is really absurd. As I mentioned, they were only maybe in a temporary state when they said that they were “in love”. And does this love enough to withhold your desires for other people? It should be. As M. Scott Peck says, love is sustained by not mutual dependence; it actually causes strain on the relationship being too dependent. Therefore true love is achieved by being independent of each other. Meaning, that when you go away and do some stuff on your own, you want to go home and share your experience with your partner; and the partner would do the same without the both of you feeling guilty of left out from each other’s lives. Communication is the key. Plus a truckload of honesty.

Maybe what these people feel when they engage in an affair, they lose the excitement, and they lose the lust they have for the person they’ve been with for a thousand years. Yes, it does happen. You could actually get tired from loving; curse it at times; but you would never stop loving the person if you really started to really, really love that person from the very beginning, inside and out.

There’s this line that the husband from the TV Show said before finding out about his wife’s affair. He said, “I love her, I love the way she smells, I love the way she is with the kids, I love her cooking. I just love her.”

That melted my heart.

Now, did I mention that the nine-year-person found out about my friend’s extra-curricular activities? I actually pity the nine-year-person. To give your love, and your life into nurturing a relationship you hope would last forever; and then reality would hit you right in the face that the person you’re offering the world to doesn’t actually feel the same for you, anymore at least.

I wouldn’t want that to happen to me. If I was with a person and that person doesn’t feel the same way I do?

Now, here’s the cliché. I actually don’t know what to do.

When you are faced with a reality and confusion of your doing, it gets so hard to stand up and admit that it's all your fault.. and you're willing to take the consequences for it.

It takes a lot of courage to be able to finally say, “It's okay, I'll be fine. Everything that we have will remain a memory, a good memory that will haunt me in my waking hours.” But it takes a lot more courage to gather your things and walk away... just walk away.

Nothing can ever prepare you for the hurt and the incoming misery that you would only feel once it's over. You promised yourself you wouldn't cry; you promised to yourself you wouldn't beg nor ask for one more chance. I applaud you for doing so, for sticking with what you said you would do --

But I applaud you more for staying; against all odds; you stayed. I applaud you for not giving up, for having a bit of courage to stay – just for a little while. For a little while.

And yet, you managed you fix what was broken; you managed to hang on and kept your grip onto it. For what you have together is a treasure; a priceless non-entity that exists only in both of your hearts; and that no matter where you go or what you do; you have made a mark and carved your own niches in each other; that there will only be emptiness when one is absent; there will only be longing when one is away.

That kind of attachment, that kind of bond, that kind of connection – is what you call TRUE LOVE.

I came across this asian music video that made me cry years ago, and i was not able to find out what the title was, until somebody told me it was "kiss". I searched for kiss and thinking that's japanese appended japanese song to all my searches but i did not find it. Thanks to Youtube, i played all the videos that have the title kiss and japanese and found what i was looking for, for a very long time. get this, it's not japanese, it's korean, and the title is not kiss, it's "because i'm a girl", by a korean girl group named KISS.

I liked the music video because it was so touching, i thought it was taken from a full-length movie but upon proper reaserch it was not, most korean ballads have beautiful music videos kasi. So the story was guy was a photographer and he meets parlor girl, who was pakialamera. Naturally guy takes photos of parlor girl and compiles it. Then one day, parlor girl and photographer guy was busy taking pictures until photographer guy ran out of films. Parlor girl then volunteered to get the roll of fims for him from his dark room. Parlor girl was really small so getting a roll of film on the top shelf took quite an effort and she made tabig tabig a bottle of film developer and down it goes into her eyes. Of course, girl get's hospitalized and photographer guy blamed himself and left. So parlor girl thought the guy left her for good, and she goes crying while eating ice cream in front of the television while watching stuart little *sigh*.

Then one day parlor girl (now model girl) saw photographer guy in a race track with shades and a dog. She went near him but he did not recognize her. Because photographer guy donated his eyes pala to her when she had the accident. So in turn, the guy was now blind so she can see. *sigh*

The most important part of the guy's body was his eyes, given that he is a photographer and that everybody needs the sense of sight. But he willingly gave it up for the girl that he truly loves, even if it means that he will not be able to take pictures again, he will not be able to ride his big bike, and he will not be able to see her pretty face.

Wala lang.

"A great love story is a great love story, and it doesn't matter what gender is involved." - Piper Perabo

We started speaking,
Looked at each other, then turned away.
The tears kept rising to my eyes.
But I could not weep.
I wanted to take your hand
But my hand trembled.
You kept counting the days
Before we should meet again.
But both of us felt in our hearts
That we parted for ever and ever.
The ticking of the little clock filled the quiet room.
"Listen," I said. "It is so loud,
Like a horse galloping on a lonely road,
As loud as a horse galloping past in the night."
You shut me up in your arms.
But the sound of the clock stifled our hearts' beating.
You said, "I cannot go: all that is living of me
Is here for ever and ever."
Then you went.
The world changed. The sound of the clock grew fainter,
Dwindled away, became a minute thing.
I whispered in the darkness. "If it stops, I shall die."

I finally finished my screenplay.It took me more than a month to finish it and a lot of criticisms from friendly friends. I've been forcing my friends to read my work and comment on it so I would know if i can make it as a writer. Bev would just comment on the story and I appreciate all her good comments, including Lui's. Then here comes cabingabang and bordador. I actually like that cabingabang really took her time to read my works and comment on it bit by bit, it makes me dense to the comments of other people. But through her opinions I revised my story to make it more acceptable and beliavable. Then bordador made fun of my dialogues, i was irritated of course because she laughed when she didnt even read it yet. She told me i was better writing essays and blogs because it's real and it's not OA, unlike my "fictional" stories. That I should not write profane words because it's bad lit... hmmm.

Synopsis:
Two lovers, Ortigas and Shaw, are in a room going through the process of breaking up. As their conversations about their reasons are said, we are taken back to the time where they first met, their first conversation, their first date and their first kiss.

Unknown to them, Shaw is currently involved with Ortigas' brother. The reason why Ortigas was breaking up with Shaw. To not hurt the brother. Shaw was trying to persuade Ortigas to forget about the brother and stay with her instead, continue their relationship.

And, oh. Ortigas and Shaw are girls.

"A great love story is a great love story no matter what gender is involved" - Piper Perabo

Anyways, here's my story. Judge it. I don't care. Sa Susunod Na Lang Tayo