a short trip to my short stories

short blah blahs if you prefer...

Excuse My Ignorance

I just did the most stupid thing anybody can imagine, I have mistaken Metallica for Wolfgang. It was actually an honest mistake. When they started playing the first part of the song I don't-even-know-the-title, what popped out was Wolfgang's music. This is the problem with my generation. Because of the diverse music already existing, everything gets mixed up. Of course, Metallica is a lot, like, A LOT better and greater than Wolfgang yet due to overload, I tend to interchange one from the other.

I have been undergoing a so-called Gen-X whatever dilemna. I think that the generations who came before us have already exhausted all possible creativity man can think of. There is nothing left for our generation to do but imitate or improve what they did. It seems as if there is no more room for us.

Do not blame me for my ignorance. I am too tired of listening to music people repeat over and over again. I am too busy thinking about my game, I am too dumb to notice the difference. But I am sure, people who came before me also went through this phase.

-march 31, 1998 6:52 pm

Dreams

I believe that every one dreams of becoming a performer. It is either we achieve it or we eventually die with this dream in our mind. Every body wants to be seen and admired in some way. Secretly, we dream of becoming musicians, rock stars, actors, singers, dancers, magicians and many, many other more performance-related careers. But no matter how vast are the choices, not everybody can perform. Many remain as dreamers.
I have always dreamt of becoming a rock star, maybe a guitarist or a vocalist of a rock band. But not all of us are gifted with powerful voices like Courtney Love or Gwen Stefani. And definitely, not a single one of us is Elvis. Some may dream of becoming the next Cindy Crawford or Naomi Campbell. Many want to be like Jodie Foster or Leonardo di Caprio. We may either succeed or fail.
Because of this, people are inclined to become impersonators... imitators. All over the world, crossing races and gender, there are Elvis impersonators. I saw Chinese, Japanese, Indonesian, American and Mexican Elvises on MTV. There is some kind of a festival in Hollywood or so where people imitate the appearance of Marilyn Monroe, Sylvester Stallone and other more public figures. Just look around you and you can see teen-agers dressed-up like the Spice Girls. Even you might be unconsciously growing your hair long just like Alicia Silverstone, if you are a girl or like the guys from Metallica if you are a guy. No matter what we do, we are slaves of our idols. I think that the reason why people have dreams of becoming performers is because we don't want to be impersonators forever. That at least, even only in our dreams, we can hear people clapping, applauding, we can see ourselves doing a unique performance in front of many people also wishing to be like us. We enjoy dreaming so much to the point that we fail to wake-up. Some die in their sleep, and they die with their dreams. I prefer to die while I am awake... so I can hear the applause and cheers while I slowly lose my breath.

-march 30, 1998 9:05 PM

Knock that bike off?

Girls my age, I mean twenty or so, would brag about their boyfriends' cars. Boys are remembered because of the cars they drive. Most young ladies consider going out with a guy only if he owns a car. Not just a car, it has to be a new model of car, not a KIA, and definitely, nothing that has been manufactured before the 1990's. Unless it is a styling 1969 mustang or perhaps a 1959 ducati diana.
In a kind of culture like this, how can a growing girl survive the dilemna? But this is not a problem for me. I do not care about the glamour of cruising around in my boyfriend's gorgeous car. I am happy riding at the back of my boyfriend's bike.
The first time I showed up in school riding my boyfriend's motorcycle was not a good experience. Almost everybody were curious to know why I ride in a delivery bike, especially now that he decided to attach a baggage box at the back. But who would exchange a fast, roller coaster-like ride with a slow, always-stuck-in- traffic ride? Not me. Riding in a motorcycle is the most fun and easy thing to do if you live here in Metro Manila. Driving from Quezon City to Makati will only take an hour or less, at any time while it takes at least two hours for any four-wheeled vehicle to reach the same destination. Every time we go for a ride, familiar places look unfamiliar to me because my boyfriend keeps on looking for new shorter and narrower routes with his motorcycle, that your boyfriend's car can't do! And at night, I look up the sky and enjoy the million stars above me. Feeling the wind blow my long hair makes me feel so free and alive. Sometimes, I can feel the mysteries of the night while we drive along the Balete Drive. I still can hear the flapping wings of bats along that street that I sometimes imagine as aswang. And with the motorcycle, we, the riders interact actively with the people around us, from our fellow riders to the traffic enforcers to the gasoline boys. Riding a motorcycle is simply real.
Before I forget, the delivery bike is not the only bike my boyfriend owns. He also owns a flashing red Honda GT 647. The kind of thing that makes everybody stare anywhere you go. Since I went to school riding at the back of this bike, I heard no more comment from any of my schoolmates.

-march 30, 1998

E-mail me at

Sign my Guest book Read my Guest book

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page