Saturday, August 26, 2006
The Magic of the Long-Forgotten Shoes
She was four years old again.
The little girl laughed delightedly, her rosy cheeks flushed with excitement and her chocolate brown eyes sparkled and danced. As she twirled and pirouetted around the room, she marveled at the ease and grace the magic shoes lent her. She stopped to gaze at the beauty that lay in the simplicity of the shoes and her smile widened. The pink shoes perfectly matched the pink tulle in her skirt and the satin ribbons that wound themselves around her legs. Then, she leaped as far as her short little legs would allow, knowing that the magic of the shoes would let her go even further.
The dream ended as abruptly as it had come. She found herself on her knees once more, clutching the satin ribbons of the old shoes. Moments ago, she had found them tucked away in a dusty corner of her closet, forgotten and neglected. Still, the shoes seemed to retain vestiges of its magic. She touched the scuffed toes, hardly daring to believe that these were the shoes in her dream. As she touched them, she could hear the first few strains of the violins, its soft sweet velvety melody enveloping her.
Then, impulsively, she slipped her feet into the old shoes, and wound the ribbons around her legs as she had done several times in the past. She remembered the forgotten stories, the secrets the shoes had witnessed, and felt it rushing back through the wrinkles of time, sharp and clear. The shoes lent her its magic again, and soon she was lost in a dream once more.
She felt like the little girl in the dream, relishing the discovery of a new prospect and savoring the irrepressible exhilaration of dancing as the sweet notes of the piano weaved themselves through the air. She found herself dancing again to the tune of a sonata, and felt herself soaring to great heights she could never reach before, until the shoes lent her its magic.
written at 12:46 AM
Friday, August 25, 2006
Crap Week
I'm just grateful this incredibly hellish week's over, since there wasn't a single day that went well. Each day had to be marred by the dreaded quarterly test results. Most were so infuriating that it made me think whether or not I really studied for the tests. Some were okay, like my Computer test. I'm rather proud of that one, since I'm not exactly techie material. Eco-Song results only made me feel worse that I already did. The few hours I spent rehearsing for the audition the night before were sadly wasted, since I didn't make it through the auditions. Failed dismally even, probably. Oh well. There's still a window of opportunity open: the Eco-essay thing. I'll definitely go for that. Today was especially crappy. Some people started to not talk to us. I don't know what we supposedly did, but it would've been rather nice if they just told us what was bothering them instead of mutinously whispering about us behind our backs. Some things went rather well during the week. Our magazine for the Linggo ng Wika turned out great! :) All our hard work paid off. I just hope we win. Endurance test results were also given, and it made me feel a whole lot better. Ateneo permits were also given. I'll be taking the test on Sept 17, morning, High School Building, Room No. 4. Please tell me if you are too. :)
written at 6:42 AM
Monday, August 21, 2006
I've just watched Mom at Sixteen for the second time in two days. It's a pretty good film. It's this story about a girl who became a mom at sixteen [hence the title], but still tries to live a normal life as a teenager. She faces unforseen challenges as people at her new school find out that the baby who she's been calling as her brother actually turns out to be her son. The film leaves an important message. It shows how dire the consequences could be if teenagers continue to have premarital sex. Kids can't take care of kids. Heck, the only people most teens know how to take care of are themselves. What more little kids who need to be waited on hand and foot? [here enters teenstar's erik erikson's psychosomethingsomething: trust vs mistrust] Most of us will probably get married and have kids someday, but that can wait. Studies should come first. So many futures and dreams have been flushed down the drain because of impatience.
written at 6:26 AM
Saturday, August 19, 2006
My mom saw this article on the newspaper about being around negative people. Included was this funny story:
The Negative Hairdresser
A woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair styled for a trip to Rome with her boyfriend. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded, "Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It's crowded and dirty and full of Italians. You're crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?"
"We're taking the Continental," was the reply. "We got a great rate!"
"The Continental?" exclaimed the hairdresser. "That's a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they're always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?"
"We'll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome's Tiber River called Teste."
"Don't go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks its gonna be something special and exclusive, but it's really a dump, the worst hotel in the city! The rooms are small, the service is surly and they're overpriced. So, whatcha doing when you get there?"
"We're going to go to see the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope."
"That's rich," laughed the hairdresser. "You and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You're going to need it."
A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome.
"It was wonderful," explained the woman, "not only were we on time in one of Continental's brand new planes, but it was overbooked and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot. And the hotel was great! They'd just finished a $5 million remodeling job and now it's a jewel, the finest hotel in the city.They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner's suite at no extra charge!"
"Well," muttered the hairdresser, "That's all well and good, but I know you didn't get to see the Pope."
"Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors and if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope came into the room. I knelt down and he spoke a few words, laid his hand on my head and blessed me."
"Oh, really! What'd he say?"
He said, "Bless you, my child. But, where'd you get the awful hairdo?"
*****
I hate being around people I don't really like, although there are some cases that I really have no choice. Like being around this guy I've christened "Mr. Conceited". He's incredibly amazing at this thing he does, but the guy just can't stop rubbing it in hard enough. *rolls eyes* And, he makes it a point that everybody knows about his Promil-kid-worthy genius on playing. *throws up* I rarely permit myself to remain even one minute in his presence.
I guess even if you don't like being around someone, you still have to be nice, even if it's the plastic kind of nice. Play along. Even if it's not really a good thing, sometimes you really have to fake it till you make it. I mean, what if it's with your boss? Even if you absolutely detest him, you can't just say "I hate your stinking guts" in his face, unless you want to find yourself unemployed.
written at 5:15 AM
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Censored
Sayonara, free ranting and raving. Discretion is now a must. Keep thy lips zipped.
written at 3:20 AM
