You used to be my revolution, but...

Today classes from 13.00 onwards were suspended. Basically, all I did today in school was submit my (hefty still, mind you) requirements for research class, and I found myself with no five-hour break, but a really early dismissal, and another distorted sense of time. I decided to take the opportunity and go to ATC, maybe chill out a bit while downloading MP3s faster than usual - if only not for the constant power outages.

Boooo. Funny thing is, that could be a Halloween ploy. You know, turn off the lights ever-so-constantly and scare the kids. Turns out, my mom says, that something went wrong with the generators, as she saw smoke somewhere near Makati Supermart at the same time I was at the mall. And, when I went into the darker-than-usual cinema lobby, a fire alarm was going off. Weird thing is, it's far from where the smoke apparently was.

So I lost the chance of doing a decent download - instead I ended up watching the videos for The Kooks' Naïve and my current favorite track, Suede's Beautiful Ones. And in between, the lights went on and off, and people were screaming for a second, then eating the next. I decided to go home and try to sleep while making sense of Chronicle of a Death Foretold for our paper that's due Thursday.

And then I found one of Miss Pam's six blogs. An ethical question pops up, like it really matters: should I link to it, even on this post? Well, if you know where to look, it's quite easy to find.

Halloween doesn't hold much significance in my life. I think Les succeeded in making me feel guilty when she said that I'm putting to waste a good holiday - to be exact, an excuse for wearing silly outfits, or something like that. I never enjoyed body paint; I think my body repels it by nature. I never went out trick-or-treating in my childhood, but that hasn't made mine a sad one, although high school gave me regrets. Things today make the difference, though.

I was going home by one of those technically illegal but practically profitable shuttle vans that ply the ATC-subdivisions route through Daang Hari. There was this streamer at the brick wall along what used to be a tree-lined road before Milenyo beat the crap out of itself. There won't any trick or treat event tonight, possibly to the dismay of those who live at the TS Cruz areas who used to visit. Nevertheless they still wait at the gates of Ayala Alabang. No streamers were there, and little do they know they're waiting for the world to change, to no avail.

I heard on Kaka at Claire: Kaagapay N'yo today that flower prices at Dangwa have been dropped to attract customers. Paeng killed most chances of a cemetery visit, although we don't really do that, choosing instead to lay candles on our doorstep for my supposed fourth sibling. The hosts point out that it's somewhat no longer practical to visit. We've learned the forces of the spirit; in short, we fondly remember instead.

And we, we don't get to go out anymore, although I'm still hearing of Halloween parties and the few who can afford to pay time to visit it. Or maybe I'm just making this up.

Funny things happen in really funny ways. I guess those lost spirits still do their work on Halloween, but not to scare us all off since it's all gone commercial, if not tabloid. I know, spirit intervention - exactly. I'll admit I still flutter, but somehow I felt I wasn't of much help when Kizia asked me about that paper I was mentioning earlier - and maybe a little too pushy on everything else - but I don't know. Again, that why now? question, only a little bit more oblivious to the present than ever. Or is it me sensing who's irritated when, and why? Somehow examples wouldn't really make any difference.

In the hour I spent during research class - Miss Averion dismissed us early - I was, well, trying my best to settle in to that distorted sense of time. I was wrong, as usual. I still ended up getting irritated at that burning generator. At least I know our friends from beyond aren't at fault.

I walked out of M208 - the video doesn't show it - with that weird feeling, though, that something would come up, and it did. It was a thought bubble, and I carried it to the bus, to the computer, to the restaurant, to the shuttle, to my feet on the way home, and to the bed.

You used to be my revolution, but we aren't children anymore. We all have to grow up.

Looks like I'm glad I sort of did.

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