One day we will have nothing to talk about anymore.

I don’t think this relationship that’s purely conversational will last one year.

One of these days.

But its ok.

We would have served our purpose in each other’s lives.

It will not be hard or painful.

But it will not change the fact that I will always wish we lasted the year… and that we were the ones meant to be together, meant to last a lifetime.

Just today I learned what overclocking meant.

It meant tweaking your pc hardware settings to the point where your computer is in between burning and speeding.

This week I guess I learned that situations cannot be overclocked.

There are situations that even the most profound love cannot change.

I feel like I am swimming in liquid coldness.

To have to start again.

To have to take the road away from him.

I wish it was 20 years forward.

And we can laugh at this past.

Finding each other again.

I’m not sure if you like me

I wont even ask.

I’m afraid of the answer

I’m not up to the task.

But I hope you would tell me

When you’ll start talking

Or when you’ll stop this silence

Are you just faking?

I wish we can all go back to the start

To the beginning of that first act

Of you and dad hiding behind the curtains

Somehow we made things

End at the beginning.

I wish we can all forget each other

If we are not talking, then let’s all get to walking

Away from each other, away to somewhere

The farther from here, all the better.

I’m sure you can try to

Notice my existence

Send a text message

Find out where my road bends.

I’m missing you

Are you missing me too?

I can’t help but notice

That you’ve lost your interest

In hearing about me

And my stupid adventures

They don’t mean nothing,

I don’t mean nothing.

I hope you can tell me

What you need me to show you

To deserve your love

Or at least your attention.

I guess I should go

Stop writing you songs

I guess I know

The answer to my questions.

And anyway, who cares

We’re getting older

There will come a time

When all this wont matter.

So let’s all say the end

And not wait for the credits

There’s no one to blame

No time to make edits.

I’ll say goodbye now

But I can’t stop writing

My mind’s telling me

There’s so much left

To go without saying.

But who really cares,

You are not listening.

Recently I found out what the downside of all this self-promotion, ie blogging, shout-outing, tweeting and reality-showing, is.

The downside, is that the backstory gets told before the story.

Sure, backstories are great, if even an essential part in gaining a different level of understanding for a certain work, or even a life, but there’s a reason why it’s called a backstory.

It’s a dichotomy. One serves as a foil for the other. One’s the moon, and the other reflects the light towards it. One can’t shine without the other. It’s not really a villain-hero thing, it just is the way things go, a little bit of balance to keep the zero from closing in on itself.

So anyway, I was singing to Lily Allen and a little Tuck and Patti and I thought, hey maybe I’d a write a song. And when I got my blog, it just happened. I started writing the backstory of the song I will be writing.

Back in college, our thesis were two parts, one was theory, or basically writing the backstory or the prologue to your work; and of course the second was the actual literary whatever you want to do. 

Looking back I see that might be the reason why it took me such a hard time writing that thesis. First six months, you had to write a prologue of a creative work that you haven’t even done yet. And the next six months, your creative work must live up or be boxed by the prologue that you did half a year ago.

Sure, maybe I was just anal, and maybe everybody else had the same problem. But it meant a lot. That was how the course structure was made, and so it may be the reason why I never really got to writing down that creative work, among other reasons, but it could be one.

Like now, I started of with the intention of writing a song, and here I am writing a backstory of the song.

The creative vibe right now is centered on the self. Write a blog. Tweet. Shout out. Update your status message. Live your life on TV.

It’s just showing some fraying off the edges here and there. I guess what I’m saying is that we need to balance this out with an actual output. Because just being yourself, as in your bare self, making youtube videos of you trying on make-up and what not, hiding on myspace or whatever, just lost meat. 

Ok let me try it one more time. We have to actually live, write the story, create something, dance a jive or whatever, we have to bring out energy and create and do, before we can ever write interesting backstories. Backstories that matter, backstories that make our lives shine.

Because if your backstory is better than your life, then that’s as if you haven’t really done anything yet. Haven’t really lived, yet.

So.

Let’s see about that song. Later.

I admire people who knows when to say no.

Especially when they say no right at the beginning.

I am the kind of person who, when asked a yes or no question,

would keep quiet and look down,

or shrug my shoulders and wear a stupid grin.

Today, one of my artists resigned

after five days of work.

She can’t take the workload, she says.

She reported for work on Monday

and the following Monday she was absent.

She said she had fever since the weekend.

I remember working overtime until I was the last one in the office.

I remember working overtime and working at home.

I remember working at home, late into the night and into the wee hours of the morning.

I remember working on Friday nights, Saturdays and Sundays.

I remember staying up overnight at Burger King, working.

I don’t know how to say no, I only know how to have a nervous breakdown.

When tears start to fall as I try to keep up from one deadline to the other,

thats the time my whole body says no and shuts down.

Recently, I became mother to this creative group.

I’ve learned it is easier to say no

when there are others involved.

I can work endlessly and kill myself in the process,

but I can hardly say the same for them.

So thank God I have these people under me,

finally I am learning to say no.

In time, I’ll learn to say no even if it’s just for me.

All the world’s a stage to Willie Revillame.

Everyone plays a character.

Emotions are made-up.

Trap-doors and smoke and mirrors,

and hiding corpses behind curtains.

The choreographed applause,

the dancing, the singing,

the crying, the drama of life unfolding.

The crush of bodies.

The sweat that flows as secrets,

held on to for so long, are revealed

on national television.

And the money, the money that flows.

A payment for every dirty underwear exposed,

for every horrible gyration, screeches, screams.

So little for more than a pound of flesh.

The humiliation, the horror.

Ok lang, may bayad naman.

Everything has a value, and that’s monetary.

Who cares if the happiness is momentary?

I’m feeling a weekend deadline coming on.

Please, Lord, no.

Call me a backstage critic.

I’m a scriptwriter, a voice over, a propswoman, a floor director. In short, I work unseen, so you may work in a few bitterness in my tone.

I am also the market for these noontime shows.

From Lunchdate to Showtime and now, just this afternoon, to Happy Yipee Yehey.

First off, the opening number was unexpectedly expected. Ten days old into the Chinese New Year and they give us what? Yet another lion and dragon dance. I’d say it ended there.

After that it was a hodge podge of song and dance numbers, movie and show promos and games that were so obviously a rehash of other games here and abroad. The only saving grace was the Ikaw and Bida interactive game but even that was borrowed from Eat Bulaga and their long time invasion of the barangays. Ho hum. Done. Done. Done.

Not to mention that the pacing was painfully slow, people talked so damnably slow you would have wanted to rip out the words from their throats, the music, light and stage cues were a heartbeat later than expected. It was a test of patience to finish the show.

So anyway. Let us all hope that they do better on Monday.

On a positive note, Karylle, after her self-eviction, was made co-host of Showtime. Now that, is worth saying happy yipee yehey.