The Magician

I came to the same magic show since I was fifteen. At first, the show enthralled me then after sometime, you learn that knowledge of what’s about to happen can dull your senses. At first, the magic seemed bona fide then after sometime, you learn that they’re nothing but simple tricks. At first, the magician looked like the happiest man on earth then after sometime, you learn that he’s just like anyone else. A person with problems, sad stories, dreams and aspirations—trying to make something of himself in this world.

I always came back not because I like being lured to the world of deception. Not because I’m dense enough to believe an illusion. Not because I’m foolish enough to let myself drift with all the trickery. I’m sharp enough to know how the tricks are done, shrewd enough to evade the magical snare and wise enough to not say anything about it.

I came back because I’m curious—curious as to why the magician chose to be a magician. Then I found out that doing magic is like taking drugs. You get hooked. But not to the tricks itself. You get addicted to the admiration and recognition that people are giving you—the sound of applause, the cheering of the crowd, the mirth of the people, the idolatry given by the beautiful ladies in the audience. You forget about all the tragic mischief life brought to your door and you regale yourself in the temporary amusement conferred by the people surrounding you.

I sat there with my back to the chair and my eyes to the magician. And it was not long before I asked myself one peculiar question—when will it all stop. When will the magician take his final bow and return to the world that may not at all be pleasant but honest and real. When will all the chicanery, deceit, guile, and stunts end. When will the indulgence in fleeting fancies, flirtatious acts and brief jubilation come to a close.

I watched him do his tricks with my head full of motley thoughts. It took a while before the show ended and when I stood to take my leave, a man approached me and said “You always come here. What do you think of the show?” I answered with every ounce of honesty in me “The same as it has always been.” Then he raised his next question which took me off guard “Do you have any idea who the magician is?” I glanced at the stage then at the floor then at him, straight in the eye and said “Yes. You are the magician.“

Fright Night

 This is a very quick and very short comparison of the two Fright Night movies (2011 and 2013).

To start off, all the characters have the same name—Charley, Amy, Ed/Evil, Peter Vincent and Jerry/Gerri. And their roles haven’t changed much as well.

For the differences:

1. The first Fright Night’s setting was in Las Vegas, Nevada which to me feels a little out of place. The sequel’s setting was in Romania, which is undoubtedly a more dramatic place for any vampire movie.

2. In the first Fright Night, what was depicted is a male vampire named Jerry whose species originated from the Mediterranean region and has a habit of keeping their victim alive for days. In the sequel, what was depicted is a female vampire who’s known as Gerri Dandridge but her real name is Elizabeth Bathory, the blood countess who feeds on virgins to maintain her youth.

3. The first Fright Night was focused more on the “science of vampires” or the so called “vampirology” while the sequel focuses more on the history of vampires, tracing the roots of their blood sucking habit.

All in all, I liked the sequel a lot more. The content, the twist of events and the action involved was way better than the first one. So if ever you’re going to watch this movie, I suggest you get the unrated copy which also happens to be the one I have.

There you go. Enjoy the thrill. Happy Watching. 

People…

People get addicted to a certain kind of euphoric pain. They suffer, yes. And every suffering has a name. A name that signifies a deep seated fear. A name that triggers a sharp kind of sadness. A name that causes a waterfall of tears. Aggrieved and scarred maybe and despondent even so. But ever hopeful still for that elusive happiness concealed beneath blissful eyes and enraptured smiles. (mvy2013)

Melting Thoughts

Been up for several nights now. And it’s starting to show as huge, dark bags under my eyes. I’ve been weighing things in my head. Pros. Cons. Gains. Regrets. The entire combo of anxieties that’s sure to keep you up while lying in the dark.

Looking back, I can’t believe how many times I convinced myself that I was wrong when I was actually right all along. I can’t believe how many times I shoved my instincts aside while trying to look for something rational to wrap my head around. I can’t believe how many times I believed a lie, not because I’m ignorant but because I valued something more than the truth. 

Truth, as I came to discover, isn’t always tangible, rational or foolproof. Truth does not always entail facts, evidence or research. Truth can be as simple as the feeling you get at the pit of your stomach when something doesn’t seem right. Truth can be your instinct. Truth, oftentimes, is something that you know, you feel, but you can’t explain because all your other senses can’t provide concrete information at the time. Truth, just like anything immaterial, may be a complex concept but is easily detected by our mind.

Mind of the people. Mind of humanity. Sometimes I love how it works. Other times I don’t. And those other times include the broad difference between cost and worth. Cost is often attached to things. Worth is often attached to people. Cost is objective. Worth is subjective. What I hate about the entire thing is how an object’s price is always fixed but a person’s worth is always negotiable. Some people may deny or contradict me on that but come on, we all know that’s how it works in this world. 

World. The reality we live in. The place where our so called life unfolds. What caught my curiosity about it is how the world can mean different things to different people and yet also have a common ring to it which is entirety. Take these statements for example — Don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. He/She means the world to me. I am the center of my own world. All of which are different and similar at the same time.

Time. Something beyond our control. Something that can be your enemy or your best friend. Its totality is basically composed of three things, which also happened to be tenses in the context of language: The past, the concept of time that tells you where you’ve been. The present, the one that tells you where you are. And the future, the one that tells you where else you can be. Oh and just a footnote on the line “Your time will end/come”. Time is constant. Time is infinite. It does not come and it does not end. You simply get in and get out of its stream, just like everybody else. 

Potterhead

Let me go down memory lane for a bit here and just a heads up, this might be a little queasy for the non-Potter fans.

It was way back year 2000 when the first Harry Potter film was shown. It’s not that I have a very good memory for dates, I just remembered Nimbus 2000. I watched it with my family in the theaters and after that, my mind drifted off completely to its plot. I was 11 years old back then and you know, of course, that it’s the age where freshmen are accepted at Hogwarts. So yes, no matter how much you’ll laugh at me, I actually waited for my letter from Hogwarts saying I’m destined to be a witch. I honestly thought that I can be like Hermione, muggle-born and yet has a magical hint in her blood. But of course, no letter came. And so I decided to indulge myself in the more realistic side of Harry Potter which is the pure genius of JK Rowling, its author.

My admiration for Rowling grew as I read book after book of Harry Potter. It really fascinates me as to how she can come up with such unexpected twists to her story and also the way she comes up with her epic-sounding spells, it’s just bloody brilliant. Such a captivating novel Harry Potter turned out to be. Oh and about novels…I’ve always loved reading them and I’ve always dreamed of writing one. But I just can’t push myself to do it yet. I always feel like my writing capabilities are not yet mature enough to tackle such a big literary commitment.  But I hope that one day, I’d be able to write one and hopefully, I can get it published for everybody to read. That’s one of my ultimate dreams.

Going back to Harry Potter, do you remember this line?
“I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and put a stopper in death.”
This was actually said by Professor Snape during Harry’s first Potions Class. This statement enraptured me solely because it represents everything that a man lives for. Men live to captivate people’s attention in order to gain fame and glory and of course, do everything in their power to prevent death from taking it from them.

Here’s another line.
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”
This statement was said by Professor Dumbledore while Harry was so attuned to the Mirror Of Erised. He’s actually right you know. People often reside in their dreams because it’s better there. Only a few take a step forward and actually turn their dreams to reality, that way they no longer have to dream, they just have to live.

Another clever line from Dumbledore is…
“Words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it.”
And once again, he’s right. Be careful of everything you say because you’ll never know what kind of fire your words might ignite.

In the film, the first thing Ginny said to Harry was “Good luck”. It was during Harry’s first time to go through Platform 9 3/4. The last thing she said was “I know”. It was after they kissed and they both knew that they needed to get back to what was going on, Ginny fighting off Death Eaters and Harry looking for Rowena’s lost diadem. Funny how love can sprung from such small words of encouragement and bloom into a strong trusting relationship.

Meanwhile, Hermione’s first words to Ron were “Oh, are you doing a spell? Let’s see then”. It was at Hogwarts Express when he’s trying to turn his rat yellow and he failed. And her last word was “Brilliant”. It was when they were trying to figure out where Harry went because he suddenly disappeared from the Marauder’s map and Ron said that he’s probably in the room of concealment because that room doesn’t show up in the map and of course, Hermione was taken aback by such a clever deduction from Ron. Funny how people in a relationship can take on their partner’s traits with the aid of time.  Also it’s amazing how a woman of many words can suddenly be muted by love.

But if it’s talk of love alone, there’s nothing greater than Snape’s love for Lily. He sacrificed his life and everything he is to protect Harry, because he knows that it’s what Lily would have wanted. And it’s no surprise that he and Lily has the same patronus. It rarely happens in the world of wizardry but I guess compelling love is capable of anything. When Dumbledore found out about their patronus, he said “Lily? After all this time, Severus?” And Snape answered “Always”. It’s a farfetched kind of love. You know, the kind that you only see in movies. But then again, there’s no harm in wishing for unconditional love in real life.

All the while that I was watching the credits of the last Harry Potter movie roll up from my sight, I was crying. And that was when my boyfriend asked “Why are you crying? It was a happy ending. Voldemort’s dead.” And I said “For ten years, I’ve waited patiently to watch the next installment of this series. Now that it’s over, I got nothing more to look forward to. Just a lot of things to look back to.”

Who the hell are you?

I just read this and I’m just mad right now. I can’t help but be affected because I am a Filipina too. And after all, her critics are for the entire Filipino race.

Who the hell do you think you are? Are you that narrow minded to let such an abhorrent stereotype blow up into your head? Your vile depiction of what Filipinos are is just downright insane. Sure, it couldn’t be helped because a lot of overseas Filipino workers really do accept jobs as household maids but that doesn’t give you the right to publicly insult a woman like Megan Young, who by the way, won by a landslide. And also millions of Filipinos who’s struggling against the odds to further their education and working hard to earn each grain of rice that they put on their families’ table.  You don’t have the right nor will you ever have a right to insult them.

Why don’t you try to shut up and look at yourself in the mirror, Devina. Because this is what you look like.

And this is Megan Young.

Are you that insecure to let out all your personal frustrations on a race of people who did nothing against you? Are you that low to let the entire world know of how rotten you are inside? Are you that desperate for attention that you’ve settled for the most shameful, most disgusting method of gaining recognition?

Your lack of breeding and values revolts all pity and hate I have inside of me. And just so you know, your statements do not show how bad it is to be a Filipino, it just shows how bad you are as a human being. Shame on you.

Alone

Why does everything feel a lot closer to being real when you’re alone? Why do your anxieties flare up when you’re alone? Why does your brain get bombarded with thoughts you tried so hard to forget when you’re alone? What is it in being alone that triggers your mind to go into such a negative overdrive?

I’m not asking these questions because I want to fascinate you with a clever answer. I’m asking these questions because it’s all a big dispute in my head and all I have are maybes. Nothing certain. Nothing concrete.

Maybe because reality’s true gravity can only be felt when you’re severed from any interaction that could trick your mind into believing that the weight of your burden has been shifted due to another person’s lighter perspective. Maybe because when you’re alone, you willingly allow your greatest fears and anxieties to be amplified to serve as a desperate company of your fragile persona—thinking it’s better to indulge in the pain than totally go numb. Maybe because in solitary confinement, your past gains the right to creep up on your present thoughts to remind you of why you changed, why you moved on and why you’re now standing strong. Maybe because it is in being alone that we get in touch with the purest form of humanity and appreciate the side of life that everybody turns their back from—the side that may not at all be pleasant but makes this entire journey worthwhile.

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Photo by nitchzombie