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All love stories are the same.

You can be of a different gender, or a different sexual orientation, even. You can be old, you can be young, single, married, widowed, divorced, it’s complicated (ooh, trademark), what have you.

You can argue all you want, prove with a 1000-page essay just how much your love is different from the next person’s, how you have broken up and then spotted each other at the most unusual place 10 years later…

But love stories will still remain the same.

I can talk and talk and talk about how they’re all the same, but the cycle will never end. Some people choose to die for it, some people choose to live with it, select few choose to go for it.

Here’s Cheap Trick, summarizing all the innate desires of humanity (generally speaking, please don’t tell me I have to be PC at all times) a la twitter.

I want you to want me.
I need you to need me.
I’d love you to love me.

Basha and Popoy, together as they were, wanted each other to need each other the way they did, when they used to be so in love to each other. Mae longed for best friend Bogs, who was in love with someone else. And Yna, poor as she was, wanted RK (Rich Kid in non-street talk) Angelo. Or whoever Piolo Pascual played across Judy Ann Santos.

And if you don’t watch local movies/television (come on, they’re much more fun than your standard American rom-coms) that’s One More Chance, Paano Na Kaya? and Para Sa ‘Yo for you. I wish I could name love teams from the Nora Aunor, Vilma Santos, Sharon Cuneta era, but that would be stupid because I don’t think I’ve seen any movie of theirs which would just make me, well, pretentious.

Go foreign. Rom and Juls. Mario and Princess Peach. Mickey, Minnie, Donald Daisy. Problems start when they feel like they’re not wanted, not needed, not loved. Just a mere inkling pa lang ha.

Anyway.

If this were a thesis defense and my related literature is such, I would get grilled. But surveying people and airing out their stories is just too painful, I mean… why would I put their names, when instead, I can use the colorful ones, like Basha, Popoy, Bogs, Mae.

It’s all the same.

And no matter how bad they are, that’s precisely the reason why local romance movies and dramuuuu shows sell. Hell, even I watch them (not as religiously,though). I continue watching even if the last scene in Paano Na Kaya? made me cringe so bad (actually, 3/4  of the movie did). Restrained Lady Gaga in a funeral, hello.

Because hey. Even if won’t happen to me (yet), it’s much more better seeing it happen on the TV screen than just in my head.

All love stories are the same, but that doesn’t mean they end…well, the same.

You choose your own ending.

Now, I don’t mind imagining my head on Bea Alonzo’s body. Hellllloooo, John Lloyd.

Off to scour for more corny local flicks circa Guy & Pip,
Vicky

Since everyone’s musing on their last days and finals. Let’s call this part one, shall we? Everything’s bound to get more dramatic towards March 25^th.

***

We read this story by Alphonse Daudet in English Lit. It’s about this boy, Franz, who goes to school only to find out that it’s his last French lesson ever. The Germans banned the teaching of French during the Franco-Prussian war, and apparently, even Monsieur Hamel’s tiny class got affected as well.

Franz regretted all the participles that he never managed to learn, all the times forgone when he preferred doing a Fraulein Maria on the green fields, playing with the birds, and making like Juan Tamad under trees.

I feel like I am Franz, although I’ve never given much thought about participles, or French participles, for that matter. And no, I have never romped on fields, and waited for a fruit to fall smack dab on my face. I just feel his regret, is all. Not about the lessons, the life lessons that I didn’t learn (oh, life will just keep ‘em coming anyway), but the school lessons.

Yes. I regret not knowing how to study. If I’d known how to study properly, I’d remember every single lesson taught to me.

Weird, no? I agonize over not paying attention to Filipino Lit (well, Filipino lit in English), to Philippine History, even to Trigonometry. I guess it’s got everything to do with this inherent burning desire to learn, to know.

Here’s the thing kasi. I think that all lessons taught to us (yes, even Stoichiometry hello Chem!) have some inherent value. Not because they add to your knowledge, but because they develop certain skills that might help you in the future, you’ll never know. It’s happened to me a lot already. I just can’t explain it. Some creative, some analytical, some logical… they just help. And as someone who’s interested in everything, it’s always cool to know a little more somethin’, somethin’.

Kids, value knowledge (although wisdom is more important, you don’t get that immediately). Maybe this is the philosopher’s reincarnation talking in me, but it never hurts to know more.

What do you know, maybe one day you’ll go on TV and be the next Slumdog Millionaire.

Yes, you can call me a complete dork now,
Vicky

P.S. My last class as a high school student is English Lit. Cool, innit? Right after our class, everyone went wild.  Expressions of love and small hopes of being remembered as someone who went every single day to that room were all over the place (note the euphemism)

And yes, I have classes today, Saturday. Good heavens, I’m closing my year with a Physics test.

Otherwise known as: Ladies Whose Magazine Covers I Would Instantaneously Buy No Matter How Much.

As was the case with:

1. Karen O
   
   photo by Gussifer from thecolorawesome.com via pagekparsons@flickr

   Yeah Yeah Yeahs frontwoman and the ultimate epitome of cool, Karen O reminds me of the girl that I want to be, but not quite sure if I’ll ever be.

   
   Photo via Kabiri Jewellery @ flickr

   Karen O looking unusually stripped-down, and, dare I say it, “soft.” I love her for being loud and just… out there, but at the same time, having the courage to display huge amounts of emotion in one of their singles, “Maps.”

   If you’re interested, check out “Maps” from their first album Fever To Tell. Kids, reminder. Slowly progress through the album, it’s a lotta noise, and “Maps” is the only respite.

2. Joan Jett / Chrissie Hynde
   
   Photo via I Wanna Be Where The Boys Are @ flickr

   
   Photo via symmetry-and-sound.com

   These ladies are rockstars in the truest sense of the word. Both lead singers for their respective bands: The Runaways/The Blackhearts and The Pretenders.

   For them both, it’s more about their ‘tude and look than the music (if only because I haven’t had time to scour for their albums).

   Oh and look! They’re both Virgos. Call me stupid, but I dabble in astrology. Good for personality profiling.

   And yes, Joan Jett is going to be played by Kristen Stewart. Don’t ask me how I feel about it ’cause I don’t know. I screamed when I saw the trailer though. Was that David Bowie that I caught a hint of?

   If you feel like checking them out, look out for “Cherry Bomb” from the Runaways, “I Love Rock ‘N Roll” from Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, and “Don’t Get Me Wrong” by The Pretenders. (”Don’t Get Me Wrong” has been playing in my head for the past few weeks out of nowhere, I wonder why)

3. Zooey Deschanel
   
   photo via wordchipped.wordpress.com

   Just so the boys wouldn’t run away to the other direction, since I’ve quite possibly scared them after Joan Jett.

   I hate her so much, I love her. The anti-thesis of everyone above. Feminine, so soft, so flowy, so ’60s pop. There are days when I feel like Joan Jett, and there are days when I feel very Zooey Deschanel.

   Oh, the girl every mom wants their daughter to be.

   
   Photo by Carlo Allegri/Getty Images via Ebarrera @ flickr

   I hate you for marrying Ben Gibbard.

   If you’re interested, check out She & Him, with her as the “she” and musician extraordinaire M.Ward as the “him.” Listen to “Black Hole” and “Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?” Very saccharine sounds.

   Well then, that’s it for now. I’m feeling very…”visual”

Rakenrolling,
Vicky

Disclaimer: following truths are based on author’s life, and are not universal. Good heavens, no.

There are truths that you don’t want to know.

Say, for an instance, that you’re waaaaay too much of a ball-busting you-know-what. Or that you’re spending waaaaay too much time with one person. Or that this one person whom you’ve been trying to treat as un-special actually comes off “special.” Or that you’re too much yourself. Or the implied truth that everything you’re doing is wrong. The truth that people don’t see how much you try. Or the truth that you feel like your life just morphed into a badly-scripted Kim Chiu movie, only you’re “meatier,” with round, bespectacled eyes, with less finesse and an infinite amount of angst and biting, sarcastic wit. Oh, and shorter, more voluminous hair.

There are also truths that you don’t want to see.

There’s that truth under your nose: that you’re a single fish swimming in a school of fishes in a tandem. It makes you wonder, am I sort of a morphed octopus with all that squiggly things coming off of me? Why am I a swimming singularly instead of… well, plural-y?

Look at the calendar, and there’s also this truth that Valentine’s day is on Sunday. Which means that Friday will be filled with flowers, stuffed bears and chocolates… and the truth is that none of them will be mine.

Then there are the truths that you really really really didn’t want to know, but due to masochistic tendencies, you peel your eyes to see. To hear. To feel.

I won’t even talk on this one.

But here’s the thing.

<cliché>The truth may hurt, but the truth will set you free.</cliché>

The truths that you don’t want to know, don’t want to see, and the truths that you really really really didn’t want to know are the truths that you need.

Because you need these truths to realize that you don’t need to care so much about other people’s opinions on your own *insert expletive* life. Or that it’s better to have too much of your self, because other people have no selves to speak of.

You need these truths to realize that you’re swimming in the wrong sea. Or that perhaps, you are, indeed, a jellyfish. And not just plain sardines.  And you need another fellow jellyfish that wouldn’t get stung.

You need these truths to realize that… certain persons are not for you. You can be “simpler,” you can be more accepting, less frustrating but it still won’t work because you are less yourself. There’s this truth that it might will hurt now, but in a while, maybe it won’t. (Dear God, a blue-blooded boyfriend will help. Please pick up the cue. Love, Vicky)

You need these truths to realize that you need somebody who would love you for you. Somebody who would respect your opinions, and then give their own. Somebody who always picks up on my cues when I feel like talking about my day. Somebody whose nose wouldn’t bleed when I go on a spiel about the magnificence of Russian revolutionary literature. Someone who would say “KFC!” when we keep on arguing whether to dine at McDo or Jollibee. Somebody who accepts and affirms the entirety of me and deals with it, ball-busting or not.

And you need these truths more than anything to realize that before everything else, before the universe gives you the Ross to your Rachel, you must love yourself first.

With this, I leave everyone an advanced happy valentine’s day.

(And yes, this is an invitation to send chocolates, flowers and cards. E-mail me for my address. :)) )

With genuine lurrrrrrrrrve lurrrrve lurrrrrve (because that’s what you need, says the fab 4),
Vicky \\//

Because when my words fail, I’d rather just take someone else’s word for it.

1. “Skeleton Boy” – Friendly Fires
   
   Buena mano because of the title, not the lyrics. Although the lyrics are relevant to the theme.
   Should we even care at all? Too much, too much. Let’s shake our hands and say goodbye.
2. “Just Like Heaven” – The Cure
   
   Girl: Show me show me show me how you do that trick! The one that makes me scream. The one that makes me laugh. *Throws hands up in the air* Show me how you do it. And I promise you, I promise that I’ll run away with you.
3. “Little Bit” – Lykke Li
   
   But how we move from A to B, it can’t be up to me ‘cause I don’t know.
   (more…)