booster shot

I was being a little vain and searched my name on Google (we all do that, admit it).

I found an article of mine, written almost a decade ago:

www.upm.edu.ph/manilakule/Webby_2k2/opinion/SMall_Price.htm

I can't help but smile. Young as I was, I actually had...opinions. Sometimes spot on, other times misplaced. But correctness doesn't matter much in retrospect - my Kule friends and I often laugh when we recall the things we'd written way back when. But I'm glad I had thoughts like these. Happy knowing I could believe with all my heart that my thoughts, the complex jumble in my head, actually had relevance. Happier that I had an avenue to express them.

There are moments when you feel truly, truly alive. Like you've been suddenly injected with with a potent dosage of life. Writing used to be that for me.

comfort in strangeness

A man spoke to me out of the blue at the coffee shop this morning.

Yes it is strange, at least for me, in this city. In other countries this isn’t so unusual, strangers talk to me all the time at coffee shops and restaurants…but in Manila, the only strangers who approach me are those looking for directions or wanting charity. I am a magnet for those I tell you. But strangers queuing for coffee? Unlikely.

I was peering at the food display; the server had just told me they didn’t serve cream cheese anymore and I can’t eat bagel without cream cheese! I haven’t been here for some time and I guess things have changed. Anyway, I stood there for a few minutes feeling lost.

“Try the bacon twist,” said a voice behind me, “it’s very light.” It was a guy in an orange shirt. I told him what was taking me so long, and a short conversation about bread ensued. He asked if I minded him ordering first. I said I didn’t, so he called Rian the server and ordered his usual drink. I finally ordered a croissant and coffee to go, then we both went our separate ways.

I was about to cross the street, but stopped. I backtracked and re-entered Starbucks. I asked for a plate and sat at one of the tables outside.

For some reason that short, meaningless conversation made me want to stay. Not for anything else, but just to sit with these strangers who, like me, were simply minding their own business.

I love these moments. Moments when I am in my own world, thinking, observing, noticing the minute details of everyday life. Mornings when the air is not so stale, and people are still smiling, Me in my own little bubble of thought, but sitting among others with whom I feel some strange affinity with. Like the man three tables down, holding a cigarette in one hand and a pen in the other, looking around one minute and scribbling something on his notebook the next (just like me, except I don’t smoke). Or the lady with the nice makeup, just sitting, staring out, sipping drip coffee. Or the guy in the orange shirt, texting and waiting for his officemates. Or the middle-aged expat who always sits near the door and reads business news. We share glances sometimes, then go back to what we were doing.

Being alone together. It's a comfortable feeling. For thirty minutes or so, we, complete strangers, share this space. For thirty minutes or so, we are kindred.

I was shaken out of my reverie by a woman in a halter dress and flowing hair. Then I remembered. The last time she was here, I heard her cursing loudly and thought she was in a heated argument with someone. When I looked up, there was no one with her, no one at all, but she was screaming anyway. For a moment I thought she would lash out and throw paper cups at me.

Here she was again. She took a used cup, faced the guard and shouted curses at him. “Ayan ka naman…” says the exasperated guard, as she continued to throw expletives.

I stood up, feeling my morning bubble bursting.

Off to work then. See you tomorrow.

Fin

And so it ends.

The final scene finds three friends talking to each other, ecstatic about a dream coming true, and bathed in the happy glow of love – both romantic and innocent, with the tiniest tinge of bittersweet.

That’s Dawson’s Creek for you. I remember the time I watched the finale on primetime tv. I hadn’t realized that it was actually the last episode; I had been spending the previous months ignoring the show because I thought it was going nowhere.

Watching entire series again on DVD, I knew I was right. The show didn’t seem to be going anywhere in its final season. The love triangle was still there, but wrung dry after almost six years. Some characters had stagnated, particularly Dawson. Kevin Williamson must have been tearing his hair out at how Dawson was progressively deteriorating. I mean the show was semi-autobiographical, after all. If he had stayed on instead of leaving after Season 2, would that have made any difference? Or is Kevin simply as boring as Dawson? Ah well, as Pacey always said, the issue is moot.

And Eddie…what a cardboard cutout. Bland to the point of puking.

The last two seasons really made no sense in terms of character and story development, except maybe for the sporadic sparks between Pacey and Joey - too few and far between to really keep us riveted for more than two episodes at a time - and Michelle Williams’ noteworthy performance. I like that girl. The rest was just fluff, fillers for the finale, which would have been more beautiful if the show actually ran until the year when the ending was set. I guess the producers had to settle for a fast forward, due mainly to the plummeting ratings. Too bad. DC could have done a “Friends” and lasted a decade. Friends had that sustainability factor that not a lot of shows have. I guess because they also dealt with stories that did not completely revolve around the characters or one single running theme all the time? They just went the flow, kind of the same way Seinfeld (the ultimate “sitcom about nothing”) did.

This was difficult to do with DC. DC was originally very focused; expansion meant veering away from the essence of the show: the coming of age of a boy and a girl sharing a bed in a small town, and the best friend who burst their bubble. Making it more complicated than it already would spell disaster, if done improperly. And that’s exactly what happened in Seasons 5 and 6. Too many new senseless subplots and secondary characters that had no real impact on the main cast. Audrey would have been enough, but no, they had to throw in Charlie and Eddie and CJ and other forgettables who ended up sleeping with half the cast. And yeah, their “it’s a small world after all” bit was getting too bizarre. Boston is way too big for 10 people to be playing sexual musical chairs all the time. Get a life, people.

It was so inconsistent, too. One episode it was Eddie, the next it was Pacey, the next it was Eddie again. Where was the protracted tension that made us fall in love, where was the sincerity? And why was Pacey making out with a chick barely three months after his devastating split with Joey? After two years of “True Love”, how can the writers tease us with anything less? Everyone was so out of character, it was as if the show had a mass layoff and the old writers were replaced by overexcited interns.

On the other hand, not deviating meant that DC would be trapped in its own story. So I guess they were just trying to evolve. But the attempts to add more layers to that story proved hugely unsuccessful, largely because the writers seemed to get lost and forget what they were writing about in the first place.

The only way out was to search through all the muck that had piled up, and go back to the heart of it all, the very reason Kevin Williamson created the show. It had to take Kevin himself to do that, too. Glad he went back to write the final two episodes.

That said, I love Dawson's Creek, flaws and all. I'm happy for all of them (sure, even Dawson). When I finally turned off my DVD player at 3am the other night, I was still crying. The following day I felt an unexpected void. Like something had been snatched away so suddenly. All over again I had that "it's finally ended, what now?" feeling. Even though I knew the end was coming and what exactly happened - down to the last spoken words - there I was the morning after, feeling somewhat lost, but also relieved. Glad it was over, but wanting it to continue. The answer was there, but so were questions. Wondering, but ultimately at peace.

But I guess that’s what stories do. No matter how many times you see, read or hear them, the experience never fully wears out. It takes you somewhere, every time. It brings you something new every time. An added meaning, a new realization, another snippet of life relived in memory.

That feeling stays, sometimes filling you up, other times receding to the subconscious. But it’s always there.

And thanks to bootleg DVDs, it can always be revisited. ;)

---

Speaking of Michelle Williams...may Heath Ledger rest in peace. So sad. :( Parang kelan lang yung 10 Things...hay.

Trip down the creek

I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. Since late December last year, actually. The reason being that I’m in a massive Dawson’s Creek phase. And if you’re not a DC fan or haven’t watched a single episode, then I suggest you click the x button now.

Still here? Okidoks.

It started when I was searching youtube for a video of Carrie Underwood’s version of God Bless(ed) the Broken Road. Among the videos I found was a compilation of Pacey-Joey moments, set to the same song sung by its original singer, Rascal Flatts. Perfect. Perfect perfect song for them (later on I realized that the song was actually Joey and Dawson’s – it played in the background as they simultaneously realized their feelings at the end of Season 1. But I insist that it fits Pacey and Joey better :p).

Anyhow, I was hooked. Memories flooded in, and the quest for the perfect Christmas gift ensued. I egged Mark to get me the complete series. Being the good boyfriend that he is, he obliged and made several trips to Makati Cinema Square before finally getting a working 6-DVD set. Then during our office Christmas party, I won a portable DVD player. And this, my friends, was when my nostalgic, unstoppable spiral into the land of hyper-verbal, psychoanalytic teenagers officially began.

I’m halfway through the fourth season now, after crying a number of times in Season 3, which for me is probably the most heartwarming, optimistic season. Season 4, on the other hand, is the most heart-wrenching. The range of emotions is wider and more intense than in the previous seasons. It was in this, their senior year, when they actually grew up and faced the consequences of their decisions. And, as Jack aptly told Joey, “there are no right or wrong choices, just a bunch of choices.” Choices that had an impact on their lives in big ways. Getting together, drifting apart, letting go, holding on, ending. No other season after this (there were two more) had such…significance.

I also remember that it was this season when I started to really hate Joey. I just finished the episode where Pacey finds out that Joey lied to Dawson about her and Pacey having sex. For the life of me I couldn’t and still can’t find the reason for Joey’s inconsistency, for such an irrational response to Dawson’s question, which came from nothing but friendship. Dawson was finally accepting Joey being with Pacey, and now she hurls him off-track with such a lame lie. And she says she loves Pacey? Bah. I remember it was around this time when I decided that I would watch the show for Pacey and Pacey alone. Joey can go to hell and Dawson, well, Dawson was, at this point, pretty much irrelevant. Pacey had stolen the girl and the story from him just as Joshua Jackson stole the acting spotlight from James Van Der Beek.

Season 4 had the best and worst. One of the best episodes was, of course, the ski trip. Which made me hate the writers even more because how could they make Joey out be such an asshole after that episode? And the worst, the very worst episode of this season was the prom (Promicide). That just killed me. It killed everyone. I could imagine people standing up and walking out, or crying in anger.

Oh well, bygones. And I’m rambling.

I was telling a couple of friends yesterday how the finale of the series was set in 2008. At 25 years old, the main characters had finally gotten their acts together. The ending? Typically Dawson’s Creek – self-referential, analytical, eloquent, bittersweet.

People tend to underestimate the impact of DC on television and on my generation. DC has the distinction of ushering the new wave of teen-oriented shows post-90210. Its successors in one way or another attempted to imitate its wit, capacity for extended verbal sparring and ability to make its characters intelligent and normal at the same time. Nothing came close though. Not even The OC, with its endless barrage of monumental conflicts far more serious than those that were introduced in Dawson’s room and thereabouts.

See, it wasn’t the gravity of the circumstances or problems at hand, but how they were treated and addressed by the characters. The thing about DC is that they dealt with issues – whether mundane or earth-shattering – in an adult way, albeit in the body of teenagers and amid growth spurts and hormonal imbalances. It was both youthful and mature, and so the moments and lessons resonate, at least for me, even beyond my adolescence. In the case of life imitating art, I think the show helped polish (for better or for worse) my then burgeoning overanalytical, neurotic ways. It reinforced my excessively introspective takes on myself and my world. At the very least I found something I could identify with – growing up too fast, feeling old despite my lanky, obviously undeveloped body, the weight of real and imagined responsibilities on my shoulders, fear of failure and risk, and all that angst that was brought to life only in the mind. At the same time it helped me realize there were more important things than my ability to rationalize my existence and perspective – infinitely more important things like friendship, integrity, and unconditional love.

“I love you. I mean, I always – I have always, always loved you. But our timing has just never been right…I also want for you to be happy. It's really important for me that you be happy. So I want you to be with someone, whether it be Dawson or New York Guy or some man that you haven't even met yet. But I want you to be with someone who can be a part of the life that you want for yourself. I want you to be with someone who makes you feel like I feel when I'm with you. So, I guess the point to this long run-on sentence that's been the last 10 years of our lives is just that the simple act of being in love with you is enough for me. So you're off the hook.” - Pacey

Ah, yes, the love. It could fill up pages.

But let’s put that on hold for a while, perhaps until I finish the very last episode. Let’s just say that there was lot more going on in that little town called Capeside than sex, recklessness and self-awareness.

I was 15, I think, when I first met Dawson, Joey, Pacey and Jen. Ten years later I am, like them, 25 years old, and in some ways I do think I've gotten my act together. I feel like I grew up with them. And still growing up. I'm still discovering some of the lessons they've taught me. On the other hand, they will never really grow old for me.

If there's anything Dawson and I have in common, it's that we firmly, without any doubt, believe in happy endings. What makes them happy is not that the problem has been resolved and the story has come to a definite, cheery close. Far from it. Happy endings are transitions, pivotal moments that reinforce your faith in the belief that whatever happens from this point on, whatever problems may still arise (and they will, along with triumphs and everything in between), things are still going be alright. Because your life is a beautiful, amazing product of what has been, and a promise of what will be.

The credits may roll, but in many ways, the story has just begun.

“And now that this scared little girl no longer follows me wherever I go, I miss her. I do. 'Cause there are things I wanna tell her... to relax, to lighten up, that it is all going to be ok. I want her to know that meeting people who like you, who understand you, who actually accept you for who you are, will become an increasingly rare occurrence. Jen, Jack, Audrey, Andie, Pacey, and Dawson. These people who contributed to who I am, they are with me wherever I go, and as history gets rewritten in small ways with each passing day, my love for them only grows. Because the truth is... it was the best of times. Mistakes were made, hearts were broken, harsh lessons learned, but all of that has receded into fond memory now. How does it happen? Why are we so quick to forget the bad and romanticize the good? Maybe it's because we need to believe that the time we spent together actually meant something, that we were there for each other in a time in our lives that defined us all, a time in our lives that we will never forget. I can't swear this is exactly how it happened. But this is how it felt.” - Joey

Hay

Was scanning the university website for updates on the Centennial celebration, and I found one of the most depressing holiday greetings ever (below). It attempts to be both optimistic and realistic, but the end result reeks of despair anyway. --- Christmas Message to the UP Community

Monday, December 17, 2007 UP President Emerlinda R. Roman

The run-up to our Centennial celebrations has given us the opportunity to re-examine our record for the past 100 years and to reflect on what we hope to achieve in the next 100. That there have been problems is undeniable. But surely these are outweighed by our accomplishments. Though the University might be flawed—given that it is a human institution—it remains steadfast in its chosen role in shaping young minds for service to the nation. Despite the perceived negative trends of recent years—a lowering of academic standards, deteriorating security conditions, a creeping apathy and cynicism—it holds firmly to the principle that ideas have the power to influence national development, and continues to provide the environment that will enable these to flourish. No other institution sets such high goals for itself or comes closer to actually achieving them. So there is little cause for discouragement, let alone despair. As 2007 draws to a close and we approach our centennial year, let us look to the future with confidence. We are unhampered by doubts about the importance of our mission or the honesty of our intentions. And we are rich in the most valuable of all resources: a high-powered, self-selected teaching faculty, composed of some of the country's most intelligent, imaginative, resourceful, and dedicated persons; a bright, curious, creative, immensely energetic, highly motivated studentry; and loyal, steady long-suffering support staff. This alone should propel us closer to our dream of what our University should be. I wish everyone a happy holiday season! --- What a downer. Someone who thinks the past year was actually fine would suddenly have the weight of all of UP's problems on them. Just saying there is "little cause for discouragement" brings forth feelings of discouragement. Never start what is supposed to be a positive message on a negative tone. It just runs on and covers the entire thing in disheartenment.