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Sunday, February 24, 2013

Dear Sir Jonathan,

If I hadn't forced myself into CCP in order to watch Phantom of the Opera, I would have never truly appreciated the beauty of theatre once more. If I hadn't heard you sing, saw your breathtaking performance, empathized with the Phantoms pain, I wouldn't be the girl I am today. It might not seem like an entirely big or new thing, as I have repeated it to you for the past several... um, months, but for me it (whatever it could be) will always mean something. It meant something when you told me that I could just meet you anytime. It meant something whenever you'd reply to my tweets, it meant something when you hugged me and remembered me. It meant something. 

Jonathan Roxmouth and I at the CCP stagedoor.
If I sound creepy, then I'm sorry. But all I wrote was true. Sir, I'm not trying to put you on a pedastel and to adore you like a god. That wouldn't be sincere enough. Rather I'm just remembering a man -who I only ever talked to on Twitter and Facebook- who was nice to me, and made me (and tons of other PHans) feel special. Simple Tweets such as "come to the stage door!" or "thanks Ica" made me feel significant, and ultimately, helped me gain the self-esteem I had lost months before I met you. 

And I'm sure I'm not the only one who felt that way. I have met PHans, with lives that changed because of Phantom. We met PHriends over the internet, we thought of projects which involved the Phantom, we realized how we're not just the only one there who freaks out when Broadway or Jonathan Roxmouth is mentioned.

And I'm extremely happy because of that. Words will never be enough to express how much I appreciate you and your art- and I'll always remember the day you told me that I wasn't just some insignificant fan, and how I was able to actually help you (even in the smallest possible way). You, sir, serve as an inspiration- someone anyone could look up to. 

Sir Roxmouth, I hope to meet you again- maybe you'll come back again to the Philippines. Maybe I'll see you in London or New York. But sir, no matter what, I'll remain a JRoxer.

Good luck, sir! Everything's going good for you, and though I may not Tweet you as much as I used to, always remember that I'm here for you. I mean, I'll always support you.

Happy birthday, sir Jonathan.

Love,
Ica

Friday, February 22, 2013

Thoughts on MY OLDER-BUT-NOT-REALLY-SISTER GETTING INTO BATH

Modesty at its best; I swear when we meet, I'm throwing her a party
I honestly can't get enough of my sister. (Though she's not my real sister... well, yes. She sort of is- but in a very strange, distant universe. She lives in Malaysia, so I can't go there without a passport and all that.)

And here's the thing- every fiber in my being is screaming: GO GIVE HER A HUG ICA. GO GET ON THE NEXT PLANE TO MALAYSIA. YES. THAT'S RIGHT.

Whoops. Did I mention she lives in Malaysia?

Anyway, Kelly deserved the spot. I never doubted that she could get in- (girl, if you're reading this, then hi) in fact, I was ready to bet my right hand that she'd get in.

And lo and behold, I still have my right hand.

So congratulations, Miss Kelly Ng! You deserve a hug, a special snowflake award, and one plane ticket to the United Kingdom!

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Oblivion

One day, we'll all be but scattered bits of dust. I won't matter, you won't matter. None of this will matter. What you did, and what you'll do will never matter billions of years from now. 

However, what you're doing will most definitely change your life forever.

~~
The only thing we have control over is the present. It is wrong to dwell in the past- to relive memories, to feel the hurt and love again. It is wrong to dwell on the future- to spend most of your life worrying on what's going to happen a milisecond later. It is because of these things that life loses its true meaning- and where we simply forget to live.

And I don't know how I feel about that. 

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Thoughts on College


It’s funny how college is basically school with an inconsistent schedule. You’re there for your classes for about two hours, then you’re free to leave campus and go gallivanting around the immediate area for approximately four hours, then you’re almost NOT required to go back and attend the rest of your classes. Compared to the hectic schedule of my beloved student torture chamber… or STC,  it almost seems like a mini-summer vacation where you won’t get too stressed out. Almost. 

Friday, February 15, 2013

One Hell of a Paperperson: Thoughts of a John Green fanatic and a (former) Augustus Waters worshipper


“Here's what's not beautiful about it: from here, you can't see the rust or the cracked paint or whatever, but you can tell what the place really is. You can see how fake it all is. It's not even hard enough to be made out of plastic. It's a paper town. I mean, look at it, Q: look at all those culs-de-sac, those streets that turn in on themselves, all the houses that were built to fall apart. All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning things. All the things paper-thin and paper-frail. And all the people, too. I've lived here for eighteen years and I have never once in my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters.” 


~~~
               
I started PaperTowns last week and, as my reading progress has been slow the past few months (I blame the beautiful and incredibly annoying works of Maganda Pa Ang Daigdig and Noli Me Tangere), conquered roughly 200 pages of this very popular Young Adults novel. So while Q searches for his Margo, I decided to brush off the spiderwebs of my newest blog in order to start my new years resolution: to carpe diem.

So while I have neglected John Green’s masterpiece for days, I’m starting to understand how most of my friends would tell me “Papertowns > TFIOS”, when Amazon would say otherwise. And, I’m still grappling with this thought so I’m sorry if I sound like an incoherent mess, while I consider Augustus Waters an amazing boy who any girl would die to be with- especially since he wrote Hazel an epilogue (An. Epilogue. Who. Does. That.); and while I know I’m starting to go all Holden Caulfield on him, I do believe that there’s something not quite right with him. Which is why I prefer Q – yes, Quentin “I need to find that slice of hotness called Margo Spiegelman” Jacobsen over him.

Now, it’s not that Q is as amazingly perfect Augustus Waters seemingly is (we’ve already established the fact that Augustus Waters is the standards which most guys fail to meet)- actually, it’s quite the opposite. Q is a flawed, annoying, clingy, and above all, average teenage boy. His ‘I’ll find you even if you don’t want to be found because you’re wrong if you don’t want to be found’ seems fairly selfish compared to Waters’ ‘I’ll write you a goddamn epilogue, even if it means trying to formulate proper, coherent paragraphs while I’m suffering from terminal cancer’. Q is selfish- or at least, he seems like one from the reader’s point of view.  However I’d like to also point out that while his character is the personification of teenage stupidity, his character is also the synecdoche of us teenagers- especially those who consider themselves as socially inept beings. Who here has not dreamt of going to prom with the date of their dreams? Who here has not dreamt of actually being respected by his or her peers and enemies? Who here has not dreamt of a Margo Spiegelman (or in my case, an Augutus Waters)?

                Oh John Green, you awaken the hipster within me.
                 
What’s more is that Augustus Waters seems like such a Paper person compared to Q. I’ve seen Augusteses or Augutii in my real life, even liked one at some point during my first year life (dear god, do not ask about that), and they turn out to be fake Augustus Waters. The ‘I’ll write you an epilogue’ line can work in books- it worked on Hazel Grace and it certainly worked on me as well. However, I need to constantly remind myself that my life is not John Green’s next best-seller. That sometimes people as geeky and as sweet as Q can actually come through in the end; that maybe he (or you, if you relate to Q) doesn’t need to be perfect in order to be great, and that maybe being yourself can lead you to something that goes beyond that initial scale of greatness- something which only you’ll be able to see.

But wait, here's the twist in all of this. Somehow I feel as if I need to be in a PaperTown to become who I am. To become a real person- to know how to change. It doesn't make sense but being in a fake area, acting as fake as a person can be, can change a person. For the longest time, I've come to hate my fake self. I've come to hate how I disliked everything and everyone- how I tried to be a god-forbid hipster, in order to be liked. I wallowed in self-pity to become a perfect person. And frankly, that just sucks.

But without going through all the fake, I wouldn't have been the person I am today. Reading this, you may assume that I'm the real deal; that I removed that Invisibilty Cloak and prostate myself infront of all of you- if that's what you're thinking, then you are so wrong.

I'm still paper; and, while I see the road to un-papering myself as a perpetual one, I'm ready to travel and wait for the end.  Each day of being paper is another day of becoming what you really are- a masterpiece.

And that’s why right now, I’m okay with being a paper person in this PaperTown.

My life now may not be the life I’ve always dreamt of having, but it will always be that real goddamn life which I sure I will be thankful for in the future. STC may not be the place where I am able to fully spread my wings, but it sure as hell is the place that prepares my multi-colored, symmetrical butterfly wings  to sprout just in time for the real life. The Philippines may not be the place to be (well, it’s not for me), but what kind of person would I have been without it? That maybe I’m not the person I wish I am, but I’m pretty sure that I wouldn’t be anyone else in this whole world in the near future.

So, right now I’m still among the many blank bond papers, placed inside a Manila envelope- just waiting. Waiting for an FBI correspondent to use the paper for a super-secret document. Waiting for  a screenplay artist to write the first draft of his new blockbuster hit on me. Waiting for a better Ica to finally do something to me- something that will ultimately change my life. Right now, I’m a goddamn paper person- and I’m okay with that. 

~~~
Side note: The sudden burst of optimism frightens me. Please ignore the last two posts, and try to focus on this one. You won't regret it. I hope.
 

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