After we finished our project proposal defense two Saturdays back, I hanged out a bit at the editing bay. I didn't have to be there, so it was a goodbye of sorts, although obviously we'll be back once post-production for our thesis gets rolling. I was watching the trailer for Caresse and Loui's presentation (which got a higher score than ours, although just a bit) on a feature about a lesbian relationship. I can't remember why, but I joked. "I can't do that," I said, "because I'm not capable of love."
Misha was on the adjacent terminal, editing her infomercial, and apparently she had her headphones off. In an unlikely way, she reacted. "Ang drama mo naman!"
Sad as it may seem, being adversely negative has become a way of life for me. I'd blame high school, I'd blame the industry I want to work in, I'd blame the culture of mistrust, I'd blame the culture of subcultures - I'd blame anything, to be honest. Stuff like that I blurted out that Saturday suddenly becomes a natural thing, although I'd be surprised if you figured out that it's a song from The Ataris. But no, I wouldn't wish I was otherwise, because I actually find something fun in being cynical about things, although people around me get very much annoyed at my every objection.
Useless fact number should-you-care? - I didn't really know what being cynical meant. It's only lately when I've effectively inserted that word in my vocabulary, when Chex, in one of our conversations, actually begged that I "stop being so cynical." And now I look it up; apparently I "[believe] in the worst of human nature and motives." In other words, whenever, say, someone would ask me for help, I'd think they'll only be using me for that end. Man, I must be very annoying. Maybe I should be thankful that I have friends who incessantly insist that their intentions are, to sound cheesy, pure.
But, to be honest (again, as if I ever wasn't) it feels pretty good whenever there's nothing to be cynical about. Blame it on sunny dispositions, but last Saturday, for example, our drama production went well. There wasn't anything else I associated when I mistook the entry letter for the gate pass, and consequently seeing Y2K almost to tears at the Velasco gate (or so I think). Surprise, surprise, insert a concession here! It's my fault, I thought. It could have been so, it's my fault now? but it wasn't. Somehow the day went well. Or maybe it's because I was in a daze (of the usual kind) but I won't elaborate. Who knows? It's like the mystery of the Möbius strip. Why that is, I don't know.
I saw another meaning for cynical. I'm "negative or pessimistic, [usually because of] world-weariness." That suddenly becomes another topic, and I think I'm too young to actually be tired of the ways of the world. Maybe that's why it sucks to know too much. That's what some of those closest to me blame, especially when it's an argument about what's on the news or some truth they wouldn't want to adopt because they're as big-headed as I am, if not more. Maybe it's me wanting something new with the world, or it's my cynicism that's led to another bout of cynicism, whatever that means - of playing with the same intentions, true or otherwise, in every situation. Basically, though, I'm trying to stop thinking about an unfair universe, and just, maybe, go with the flow. Stuff like conversations with Misha about her CNN jacket, or getting her couch out of the campus, or maybe lunch with Naomi. The small things. I can't elaborate on it because they're, well, small things.
Why the self-assessment? I'll admit - it's Lizette and her little response. To be more precise, "if only you would rant less, I would like your writing better." Insert thoughts as to why people like Mo Twister, King DJ Logan and Anthony Taberna get paid just for ranting...
...and that was, in itself, a rant. Oh, trying to master the art of impression sure is hard.