I used to always think people (casting directors in particular) judge me quite easily. Who said it was easy to read and improvise a character in 5 seconds? Of course they know thats not ALL there is to it when an actor (experienced or not) reads parts of their script. I used to think it was always buzzing and chismis when you’re auditioning. 

The reason why I felt it wasn’t all bad, considering I probably had not gotten a part, is because this is the first audition where I felt that it wasn’t that I was not good, or that some casting god cursed my theater career – its just that I did not fit any character. Plain and simple.

Its not because they don’t think I’m good, or that they hated how I smiled or whatever. Its because I’m not what they’re looking for.

So how is this not THAT bad? 

Again, its simple. Somewhere out there (yes, Fivel’s back), there is a part exactly written for me. Not that skill and talent don’t count, but I’m sure my time will come when I am considered for something I haven’t even started reading for.

Aside from that fact that I am actually in a middle of  a few hundred crises (one-sixteenth of my own and the rest scattered around the hemisphere), missing this person makes everything so much harder. (No, this is no lovesick-damsel-in-distress drama that I’ve successfully avoided the past year [ohthankyouverymuch] coming back to tear my life [webpage] apart). 

For 9 hours a day, 5 days a week, he sits roughly 8 feet away from the tip of my left shoulder. It takes “No One Mourns the Wicked” in top volume to drown his voice partially (this is when I feel triumphant about going through the day choyless). Until I’d need to remove the earphones (which I’d happily glue to my ears) and everything is yanked back the way its supposed to be – me able to hear. 

I hate it. And of course, reading something that makes you relate one of the characters to one in your life makes it a whole different (sadder) story.

I miss being a friend to you. I miss you being my friend. 

I miss you. You stupid you.

PS: This one I’m opening access to everyone because I do want you to see. But you won’t. You’re stupid like that I’m stubborn like that.

Lahat tayo merong bagay na ayaw bitawan. Maaring ang mga ito ay ang mga malalagkit na kaning nagdidikit sa kung anumang hangarin. Maaring ang mga ito ay mga bagay na pumipigil sa ating pag ngiti sa pagsalubong ng umaga.

Balakid o pag-asa.

Ang mga mithiing pag-asa dapat lamang higpitan ang kapit. Sa paglayag sa kalawakan, kasama kang aakyat. Lilipad. Ngunit mayroong mangilan-ngilang pilit yumayapos sa mga bagay na dapat nang ilibing. Mga bagay na lalong nakapagdidiin sa iyo sa kalungkutan.

Bitaw.

BItaw, kaibigan. Bitaw.

This probably is one of the very few films that were created because of the story – and may be the characters. Aside everything, this one did not feel that Ploning was tailored for Judy Ann Santos which is a very good thing. It did not feel as if the movie was created solely for profit – as somewhere in the midst of the cheesy and overly done lines (i.e., Digo and the Taiwanese conversation on the beach with the bottle of Ploning’s peanut brittle), repeated misediting (abrupt cutting or whatever technical term is there that should be used) and dragging and useless frames – there still was heart. However bad this movie might have been described in this entry, it still does not compare to the atrocities created by directors on breadtrip – sacrificing their belief in a cultural art and in their own integrity. Ploning was a good attempt – it may be a small step towards developing better films for the Filipino audience – but an inch forward nonetheless.

Kudos to the cast and the director.

I’ve never really been involved in big campaigns (except when I was applying for this international organization which apparently only hired vegans [yes, I am a meat eater and damn proud of it] and so I, in a subtle but very obvious way, wasted precious time and melanin [stood under the noon sun beside man dressed as an oversized and overaged cupid in front of a very famous fast-food chain, don't ask]) for nothing. It was more of a long day than it was an experience.

This event however, struck me because I really DO feel the change in climate. Even in Manila where its always just hot or, well, warm. I’ve recently been to the province in the farther south where the temperature is relatively the same, the only difference is the atmosphere – the feel of the wind, which in manila is very toxic and humid. And it shows how bad things are already in the Metropolis because of pollution – from cars, factories if you must, and of course people.

This is not to express how turning off lights for an hour could help our earth or why we should even bother to do it. This is about the people who have come across the ads about the effort to alleviate, even for a short while, our tired and used earth.

Its not about how big or how small a step would bring you closer to your destination – its about you taking the step. Its not about you making a move – its about whether it was a move closer to or farther from your goal. Its about making effort to get to where you want to go – without an assurance of you getting there. Its about taking a chance, risking a bit, and sacrificing a few to claim something that is more precious than what was attained easily.

This whole thing might not be a big matter – but it could afford someone a few more seconds of life.

Somebody needs to care.

I care. Is anyone with me?

I am so tired of smiling – of showing laughter thru my eyes. Sometimes I wonder if it really is happiness I feel or its all an act: Life is a stage (cliche 2).

I am fickle, and so is my life. A brilliant fictionist once told me (actually last night) that I am a magazine, nay, a book even and my best friend is a newspaper. Is that a bad thing? Would it be worse to be a magazine than a book? A book than a magazine, perhaps? I’d rather be -pause- I’d rather be something sometime and then another at a change of a second. Fickle. Change is inevitable (cliche 3).

C’est la vie (cliche 4).

Bobo ka. OO IKAW.

Pero hindi din.

Welcome.