Plus one

So, what the heck does Sweet Soul Revue mean?

It's the twenty-ninth day of the second month of the year, which, as everybody knows, comes by only when the Olympics are going to be held in a particular year. Up until this afternoon, however, today was just a Friday - with me not having classes, usually spending seven hours in front of the computer while tending to house chores - until Friday finally dawned on the UNLV campus.

"Oh yeah, happy leap year!" Raisa went.

I'm still listening to that Pizzicato Five song, trying my hardest to relive memories of years, leap or regular, past. This was one of the questions on the conference quiz bee last week, and I love to blame this Japanese pop group for starting half the party on Kelly's show. And that's the funny thing - however much you want to remember the past, all you remember is what just recently passed, and not those days when things were very simple.

Three years of college, and suddenly all you're trying to do is connect disparate concepts together to make some academic sense. Before, all we had to connect were the dots, or in some textbooks, two concepts together - the difference lying in the illustrations and the line you literally have to draw. Now you've learned the art of bluffing your professor, dedicating three pages to saying absolutely nothing. And the leap year no longer fascinates us.

When I was young, I had this thing for 29 February. It's an extra day on the calendar, and it disrupts the orderliness that calendars for the month of February have. What used to be twenty-eight squares neatly organized into rows of seven suddenly has an extra friend to deal with: the sum of all fears, perhaps, or what eventually is called the extra day of the year. I always wondered about the lucky (or unlucky) ones who are born on that day, whether they celebrate their birthdays every year, or every four years.

Now, probably because it only happens every four years, it becomes nothing special. There's nothing to look forward to, because, bluntly, nothing magical happens on this date. It merely becomes another February day, unlucky to not receive the love that's all left behind two weeks prior. People like me just spend it typing something in front of the monitor, leaving the young kids to wonder whether people born today do it like the Olympics, or like every other day.

And that's how straightforward it has been. I'm still cramming - unintelligibly - my investigative report, although it's more because of everything else demanding more time from me, or me demanding more time for myself. Like everybody else, there are a lot of things on my mind, and a lot of worries to sort out, and we need all the days we can get.

I only have three Pizzicato Five songs, although it's only Sweet Soul Revue that reminds me of something - of how we danced in elementary every year, of how we met our friends and made our enemies, of how we tried our hardest to be the best in the world. And now, we live to become second fiddle to someone else, who happens to be second fiddle to someone else, and it's a vicious cycle indeed. I still can't remember anything, probably because now I think I need to analyze everything, wondering what went wrong before, and what led to me being me.

So, if 29 February would be some sort of "universal time out" day, when people can revert to what they should be and get things off their heads... wouldn't that be nice?

Then again, politics, glitz and romance get in the way. And Raisa is still awake, an hour into her leap year. Or maybe she has fallen asleep. Who knows?

And your responses...

I wonder what happens to people born on Feb 29 too. Do they stay the same age for four years? Does it result in some psychological setback? I really do wonder! XD

Anonymous Anonymous3/01/2008     

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