OST - January

Recently I told someone very dear to me that writing was a good way of cheating time and making moments last forever (well, sort of). A single beautiful day, with all its color, wonder, and promise, can be revisited again and again and made to last a lifetime through a twiddling of the imagination and some pencil on paper. Of course now we use blogs, and so we can actually share such moments (as well as the crazy/beautiful thoughts we have while we’re in them) with other people who have nothing better to do than look us up. Never mind if words are too feeble and fail to convey how intense the emotions are/were. Language, to use her words, will always be at best a mere approximation and hence imperfect. She went on to write a critically acclaimed blog entry that disproved several assumptions about the indescribability of feelings. I guess it’s the time we take to relive those fleeting snippets of life in our heads - and the care with which we cast them in words and images – that gives them that stamp of permanence. And if we ever do forget, what we write down affords us, again in her words, the joy of remembering.

The thing with not having time to write – aggravated by the fact that I’m a closet illiterate – is that such moments pass me by without my getting even as much as a single word down. Someone once told me that I could tell stories, that I had a knack for turning ordinary mundane events into literary moments – because I could spot the conflict, the dilemma, and the mind-blowing in the ordinary. I never worry about forgetting important moments or details or life-changing episodes. What I do have a problem with is writing about them. It took humankind countless hundred millennia to work its way from cave paintings and grunts at the tribal gathering to get to Shakespeare and the New York Times Best-selling List. In my case, evolution seems to have taken a permanent vacation. Jason, uncultured Cro-Magnon. Add that to my resume.

For the life of me, I’ve never really been able to write anything that can do justice to all the crazy/beautiful stuff that life has thrown my way. So if I had to write something to tell the world about the past few weeks of my life – no matter how bad I want to – it would be a lost cause from the beginning. Like asking a screeching baboon to sing in on Rent.

What I do find myself doing is attaching/channeling memories and moments unto songs. It’s not much, but it helps me get by. Even the best writers have been known at times to lift/quote from their more learned counterparts and predecessors to describe the moment. In my case, I quote from rock stars, balladeers, and the occasional poseur. The same principle of borrowing from wordsmiths of better caliber applies, save that we also deal in bass lines, riffs, and drum beats. Yeah, there’s a fallacy in there somewhere, but whose blog is it anyway?

The past few weeks have been, in a word, immense… Like I’ve been taken out of my neat little cocoon-like scheme of things and made to see the world – through this person – in a whole new way through a series of supervening events and pleasant surprises. It’s like every waking second has been imbued with more color and feeling, and the laws of space and time have been (in a disturbingly familiar but exciting fashion) distorted beyond reckoning. I’ve woken up each past day to mornings that bear a hint of promise, and slept each night with the knowledge that the day was (no matter how unplanned) well spent. It’s like I’ve lost myself only to find that I’m still the same person, standing on the same spot on the board, but the rules of the game have suddenly changed. It’s like realizing that your life has been nothing more than a prelude and a preparation for something bigger and beyond you – a quest, adventure, or an opportunity to discover the truth behind one of life’s greatest mysteries – and that this could be it. Each moment after precious now-or-never moment seems to bring me that much closer to the one thing that could give real meaning to my life – or render it meaningless beyond saving. It’s scary how it seems familiar and new at the same time. No, scratch that. The fact that it feels more alien and new makes it a hell of a lot scarier.

Like I said, it’s all gibberish when it’s me talking. Whatever the past few weeks have been, they seem an awful lot like a story someone else wrote for somebody else’s life. Things like these just don’t happen to me in the ordinary course of things, I guess. But I’m taking them just the same, and taking heart in the fact that I shared them with her – because I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

I really can’t put into words what it’s been like. But I guess if someone were to make a movie out of it, I have a pretty good idea of songs that would make a good soundtrack. For some strange reason, I’ve found myself gravitating towards these songs more than the others, and so these are the songs that have been overplayed on my mp3 player for the past few weeks. Enter the wannabe Rolling Stone columnist.

This is what it felt and sounded like to me. This is lying down in a wide-open space while looking at the stars. This is walking under the streetlights hand in hand. This is vertigo while talking over the phone on a third floor ledge. This is spacing out and looking at her over our classmates’ shoulders from back in my seat. This is me getting to know the mystery that is her better.

Kwentuhan is a Sugarfree gem about that thrill you get when you find someone that you can actually talk to. Sometimes it’s a complete stranger that fate allows to stray and walk along your path, or it could be someone who’s always been around but you somehow failed to notice. In both cases there’s that giddy feeling of discovering that person for the first time. Time flies without either of you caring or noticing, and the conversations – about everything and nothing – continue and become more and more… immense. You’re overwhelmed as she opens herself up to you and gamely shows you a side of her she’s never shown to others before. You hang on to every word she says, storing each quotable quote, digesting every idea, and breathing in her every peal of laughter. And then all of a sudden you find that even her silence mesmerizes you. At dun na nagsisimula ang panibagong kwento.

So Impossible is one of the least known (but in my opinion, the best-written) Dashboard Confessional songs available through net piracy. In this acoustic number, Chris Carraba’s whiny toothache voice unravels the intricacies of two people getting to know each other. There’s something about how the little questions and conversations lead to you wanting to really know a person better, and how you jump at every chance to spend time with that person outside the classroom. There’s that promise of possibility and the sense of wonder and surprise you get when you find out about this person’s quirks and likes and dislikes, how much of them you share, and how you *might* actually fit the bill. It’s like standing before a tapestry hanging on a wall and having a light breeze come in and ruffle it up a bit. You suddenly notice a detail o two you missed at first glance – as well as a glimpse of that something wonderful hidden underneath it.

Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down is a relatively new punk/emo rock song that I can’t help but sing along to, notwithstanding the fact that Fall Out Boy vocalist’s drawls incomprehensibly. I saw the video once and couldn’t get over how cute it was. The story was about this hapless guy who had antlers on his head – honest to goodness reindeer antlers – who had feelings for this girl. Since he was like the village freak or something, the girl’s father hated his guts a little more than usual and detested the idea of his little princess going out with him. The girl sort of likes him, though, and always tries to make things work out between them. In the end, reindeer boy eventually wins dad’s favor (and the dad’s unreasonable hatred for his is finally explained) and everything ends on a happy note. And he didn’t even have to cut his antlers off. The lyrics might prove me wrong, but this song (to me) signs of those situations when you’re way in over your head but just (because you must) fight on anyway. The devil may care and tongue-in-cheek attitude helps, but what really makes it worthwhile is the plucky and headstrong chick who won’t let you give up and cheers at you to keep on swingin’.

Sick of Myself is an old Matthew Sweet song that combines tow otherwise irreconcilable emotions – exhilaration and self-loathing –as if they were meant to go together. And with me, they almost always do. It’s like hugging and allowing yourself to be hugged. There’s exhilaration in knowing that this person trusts you enough to allow you into her personal space, and in realizing that this person was brave enough to bridge the gap and let herself into yours. And then, paradoxically, the self-loathing comes in. faced with such goodness and beauty, you suddenly shrink and feel ashamed of yourself and want to start ‘tearing at your own skin.’ Like the storybook ogre who caught the wounded fairy in his hands, you feel drawn to her radiance even as it hurts your eyes. And you want nothing more than to hold on to her and not let go – but you’re scared of crushing her or scaring her to death. Sick of Myself serves as a call to try – impossible as it may seem – to make yourself worthy of the precious thing you’ve been entrusted to hold in your arms.

Panaginip is a groovy song; the kind you wish you could perform on stage yourself. I can’t explain, but P.O.T. somehow succeeds in hiding the essentially sad nature of this song. It speaks of that dysfunctional male point-of-view that unbelievably good and wonderful things (like her) only happen in dreams, and the unfortunate willingness to content one’s self with keeping on dreaming. A lot of times we entertain possibilities – and even see them close enough on our horizons to grasp – but we never truly explore them. Partly because we think we’re not good enough o because we’re afraid of being disappointed by how the real falls short of the ideal. In either case I’ve come to learn that it’s always better to wake up and make things real than to fool yourself into keeping on dreaming.

At My Most Beautiful is just a plain old mushy song that served as R.E.M.’s contribution to the Never Been Kissed soundtrack. There’s just something charming and endearing about the song that just gets to me – even if it does lull me to sleep. Maybe it’s how Michael Stipe keeps on crooning about how he ‘found a way to make her smile’ like it’s the greatest thing in the world. Because yeah, I think it is. If there’s nothing else in this world I’m good for, if there’s nothing else I can do for her, I would at least want to be able to always give her a reason to smile.

Just Like a Splendid Love Song, if I remember correctly, was the first Orange n’ Lemons song that ever came out on the radio. It was back during their indie band days and before they sold their souls to ABS-CBN and Pinoy Big Brother. It’s a shamelessly happy song (right up there with humming tralalalala and Happy Birthday) that I think was written precisely for those moments when you walk together hand-in-hand under the moonlight or the early afternoon drizzle. It’s just so warm and fuzzy that you can’t not hum along to it, pseudo-Britrock flavor notwithstanding. I’ve come to realize, however, that the song’s use of ‘color’ as a device is really overstated. Color is only something you see. But what really matters – what makes things more splendid and vivid – is what you feel. You can take away the colors and close your eyes and still be happy just the same by feeling the moment.

Takeoffs and Landings is an Ataris song I used to like a lot, but which I eventually outgrew. I vaguely recall attaching it to memories I had with someone else, but I recently heard the song again and it felt like I was hearing it for the first time (funny, that’s how it seems like with all the other songs too). Now, every time I hear it. I get images of cold January nights and wide-open spaces like airport runways and grassy fields, and of looking at the night sky and waving like kids at the planes that fly by. There’s also her voice telling me in a schoolteacher-like way about time and space being relative, and of a stubborn feeling of not wanting to be anywhere else other than with her.

Laging Labsong Na Lang is just a funny song. It’s an anti-love song that I would love to see somebody sing on those reality TV idol singing contests. Leave it to indie filmmaker Khavn Dela Cruz to come up with a song about loving to hate love songs. But now I really can’t say I still dislike love songs. I don’t know, maybe it’s the weather or something. Also, while I used to roll my eyes and resent couples who hug and cuddle in public (how dare they make the rest of us look alone and lonely!), I now know better.

It’s Oh So Quiet is just infectious. It’s like a scene out of a Broadway musical where the hero/ine sings to himself / herself while In the midst of a crowd of people going about their own business -and then the chorus kicks in and everybody just bursts into song. I finally saw the video recently it turns out that was pretty much the idea, with singer Bjork hopping around with people spinning their multicolored umbrellas and mailboxes dancing and coming to life. It’s like staying in the library and joining the herd in the silence, only to get these sudden bursts of giddiness that make you want to jump across the tables and sing at the top of your voice. It’s like feeling so indescribably happy to the point that you just have to let it out and share it with the world before you explode into pieces. I haven’t done anything crazy in the library so far, but I’m going to have to really watch myself from now on.

Happy in the Meantime is a morose song that plays with the theme of realizing that happy moments are just that – happy moments. Lit brings to light the tension between really losing one’s self in the moment and coming to grips with the truth that it will eventually have to end. The way I’ve come to see it, however, is that the tension is more imagined than real maybe what really makes those moments happy and precious is the fact that they’re fleeting and ephemeral, like shooting stars and fireworks that light up the night sky but disappear once you blink. And just because the moment has to come to an end doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the next one that comes along.

Narda is a song about THAT popular Pinay superheroine. I suspect it’s an offshoot of the UP College of Fine Art’s (from whence the band Kamikazee hails from) penchant for using Pinoy pop culture icons as a starting point for analyzing the Filipino everyman’s psyche. In this case, the song looks into the quintessential schoolboy crush we develop towards that girl who is always, in every conceivable way, too good for us. Because she means so much to everyone as an inspiration and an example, and because she carries the world’s hopes and aspirations on her oh-so-exquisite shoulders, it seems like a crime to even dare to dream that she would take the time to come down for some hapless Pedro’s whining and shameless yearning. However, while it’s the superheroines (the Darnas) we idolize and pine after, it’s the real persons – the Nardas – who amount to so much more. Because she’s the real person, she’s the one who can actually be there to save you in the end, and who can in turn make you feel needed and important for a change.

Biyernes is a dreamy, jangly, feel-good, space-out song from Ateneo-based band Narda. It captures the essence of that Friday/end of the week daze when things finally start winding down and you’re all set for a weekend respite but there’s something wrong or missing from the picture to cap the week off. At first you think it’s just that restlessness you get when you’re left with nothing to do, but it probably stems more from being stuck all alone in that laid-back empty moment with nobody to share it with. Your life can be painfully monotonous at times, and there’s no better remedy than having someone to share the monotony with. There’s also something amazing about Fridays. Magical things just have a way of happening on Fridays (although Thursdays have been known to bring their fair share of now-or-never moments too).

Heaven Help is pretty much self-explanatory, and I’ve discussed it in a previous post. I guess all I can say is that this song (God help me) has started to mean something for me once more. And yeah, Paolo Santos still sucks.

Almost is so juvenile and sagely at the same time that I just can’t help but love it. Bowling for Soup takes what I consider to be the most painful word in the English language – ‘almost’ – and takes it to absurdity. The song shows how we make futile attempts to rationalize away all the ‘what ifs’ and failed opportunities of our lives and how, at the end of it all, we can only ‘almost‘ forget and get over it. One of the greatest gospel truths to have come out of her fine lips is that it’s better to regret something you did than something you didn’t. I say amen, and this song exists as an ironic reminder of what shouldn’t be – and a call to make the ‘almost’ actual.

Buwan is an Itchyworms favorite that sings of missing someone badly. It never goes on to say why the other person isn’t around or if she will come back, and I guess that’s because it’s beside the point. It’s the whole ‘being apart’ from the person that really kills us, and everything else is just irrelevant detail. What I find really cute about the song is how the Worms, like they always do, manage to make missing someone seem almost fun. Now I know there’s really something special about looking at the moon together. It’s something you’ll most certainly miss if ever fate decides to intervene and tear the two of you apart. I know I would.

Save Me was the opening song from Smallville, that TV show about the growing pains of Clark Kent, the boy who would be Superman. This song reminds me of how deep inside, even the best of us are reduced to scared little boys and girls screaming out to be saved by someone – anyone. Superman draws strength from knowing that someone worries about him. Somehow, in some strange way, I do too – and it makes me want to be a hero in return.

I’m not really sure if Live’s Dance With You is a song or if it’s a poem with instruments accompanying it, but it’s something I love spacing out to. Since it first came out when I was in high school (a musical gem in the barren dust of the Limp Bizkit and Korn era), it’s always held a certain sway over me, and I’d want nothing more than to be that person in the song. I’d love to sit on the shores of some Fijian beach and watch the sun set and give way to the moon and stars, with only the breaking waves and the night breeze breaking the silence. Dance with You is essentially a song of love, and to me it speaks of shadows on the Carillon bell tower, of the hole-in the-wall, and of hushed whispers and clasped hands, and all those inexplicable things we still keep secret and unspoken.

The Story So Far is a misnamed song. Its title seems to be about all the things that have led to a certain point in time, only to eschew everything in the end and say that nothing really matters except the here and now. What gets me is that it’s pretty rare for a band like New Found Glory to come up with a song with even a semblance of such depth. It will always rock to look back at how far along you’ve gotten since the first nervous attempts at conversation or that fated moment when you first laid eyes on each other. But what really matters is the here and now, because that’s where the real story is: not in the past or in the future, but on the current page you’re writing on. I guess I don’t really care how it began or how it will lend (to that, she holds the answer). All I know is that I will never be able to look at the sky the same way again, and that this is a really, really, really happy time in my life.

I have shared some of these songs before with somebody else in the past. But they held a different meaning for me back then, and I can say that (like a lot of things in life) I hear them now in ways that I’ve never heard before – just as I feel certain now about some things I couldn’t bring myself to believe then. This is a new chapter and a new story, and I’d be damned if I’ll make the same mistakes again. Because if I do, then I really don’t deserve her and what she’s done for me.

If YOU’RE reading this, if you actually took the time to cut through all my convoluted prose, then I’d like to say thanks for being an audience, but you really should’ve just spent the time studying instead. :p If it sucked, well, I don’t know, I really can’t apologize since it all came from there, and like you said, that’s all that matters. What I do regret is that it turned out more like an album review that a post about this. Well, I did warn you that I’m illiterate.

But if even remotely, I made you smile and believe what I told you I feel for you, then I’m glad. It really all is too immense for me at this point. But I know it’s real, and I’ll take the chance to prove that it’s also right. I’d like you to know that you’re more than someone I write about (who am I kidding? Me, dare to write about you?), because you’re sort of a co-author to this post - it being mostly about what I’ve learned about life and about you during the short time we’ve gotten to know each other.

Blame it on the moment you picked your name out of my hat.

Bleh. :p