The difference happens to be different

Yes, it has been that long. You have been waiting for an update for that long. You have possibly been wondering about where I have been. I have been doing my wondering as well - like the reasons why I haven't posted here for so long. Yet, I've waited for so long to get in this seat, I almost fell asleep and forgot what I was supposed to write.

So, again, a very aimless entry.

Still, though, I've been doing my wondering. In between watching totally improvised plays and working on a report (which we just finished), a project (which we also finished as well), and a script reading (which has just begun), I've been hit by those all-too-familiar thought bubbles.

If anybody noticed, all my duo photos - so far they're at thirty-something, just thirty-something - have me doing that same tired, overfamiliar pose. One that I don't even like, at that. Or it's the way I seemingly pout when I try to make a smile. Or the way my eyes deceive other people's and make me look older than my age.

Luckily for me, I haven't tried smiling the way Lillian Gish's character in Broken Blossoms does - with two fingers, forced because of what actually was Spanish flu more than what the novel dictated. I've tried doing that, though, in front of the mirror, and I look as stupid as ever. Luckily the people with me somehow compensate for my lack of photogenic qualities. Today I had the camera, and I had duo photos with four people - finally that replacement with Ranice, for one, and of course her smile more than made up for my, err, lack of star quality.

I also wondered last Saturday why I wasn't feeling any indifference - wait, that's the wrong term - to those who attended the Manila Drift party that night. Well, Wednesday and Y2K was convincing me to buy tickets, saying that "it's never too late to start [partying]," but I never got around to buying stuff. Just today Yvette asked me if I went. Then again I'm comfortable with not being a party-goer and all that, but sometimes can't help but think about who really that thing is for. Or how they pulled it out.

Or how isolated I am from what is supposedly the CLA demographic. Then again, I was always born to be a rebel.

Before that bubble though, I wondered why I am so confident talking to people I don't really know. Think about this - to compensate for forgetting to bring a pen (which was also compensated by Lau's), I talked to the actors at the Saturday showing of PETA's don_Q. As Cuyeg and Huey vowed to know who some people are, I was talking to admittedly one of the pretty faces of the play - and an approachable one at that - Julia Enriquez, known to us as dull_sin, the modern-day equivalent to Don Quixote's Dulcinea. (Well, it is an adaptation.) So there I was, doing informal interviews with some of the artists, also trying to compensate for a lack of photographic coverage.

Then again, I have been at the Andrew building too many times and I can't work around the Student Council surveys well. Nor the tickets for either Pay It Forward or Manila Drift. Sometimes I just think I contradict myself, really.

If there's one more thing that caught my attention during the last few days, it's the fact that I have this weakness for handwritten notes. I almost cried - well, not really - when I lost my Mike Enriquez autograph; I almost lost Nadia's note along with the candies she gave last term to the trash, but I got it just as the fridge got cleaned up after the typhoon. (Now the note, written in a sponsored post-it, is placed in my wallet, like it would bring me more money.)

So I flipped through the don_Q souvenir program and was reliving that talk with Julia, and her "yebah!" note that comprised her autograph. Then again, there are the text messages that go with other things, that I still keep despite the lack of relevance in today's all-too-hectic life. Like I still have the time to collect handwritten notes and make sense out of them, maybe look at them once in a while and have myself sparked up and energized.

I don't know why I keep on surprising myself with all these ridiculous propositions. I mean, I know too well that, by this time, people start losing significance unless they've been there from the beginning. Sad to say, I'm one of those guys that have been "shut out" from the very beginning, and is struggling right now to keep afloat. The bigger problem is, I can't function well without these things. There's always this feeling that you'll be passed around until everybody has rejected you, or even worse, everybody's kept you waiting.

I don't understand it either. I'm not affected but I'm not as happy as I ought to be, either.

Somehow I've started to get used to those days when you realize you've got nothing to do, and nothing to fall back on. And yes, I've been going out of my way to do stuff I myself thought was crazy. Just today, I'll admit, I waited for Ranice to come out, for five minutes, and pretended that I wasn't. Then we had the photos, we split up, I climbed up the stairs, and it seems that nothing much happened.

Is this a different way of saying everything I didn't want, didn't try, or forgot to say?

And your responses...

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