It's been a hard day's night

Earlier, while a friend and I were seated together and were humming/singing along a Beatles song that came up on his phone, another remarked, "Kapanahunan mo yan, no," with a smug face that suggested that the age of our choice of music makes it, and us, inferior.

Oh please, I wanted to scream at her, what I won't give to have lived in that era to experience the Beatlemania firsthand, when the world isn't perfect but still good and hopeful, when people (and the society) weren't as superficial as you are.

What is up with people?

Dju vui vay~

Miss Saigon, in all its forms and interpretations, will always hold a dear place in my heart.

Earlier today, my friend and I went to watch UST Mediartrix's presentation of this special musical, upon the invitation of another friend who was one of the lead choreographers. Saving the date almost a month ahead, I was determined not to miss seeing it done by a legitimate theater/performance group.

I am proud that, almost six hears since we had it in our junior year in high school,  I still know the words to almost all the songs. This time, I was also impressed by the performances of the actors of this adaptation--from the bargirls of Dreamland to the jaded American troop soldiers, to the over-the-top but sly Engineer. The amazing actress playing Kim possesses a voice that reminded me so much of Lea's--it's almost the same timbre, the same quality. She was so effective, and I can't help but applaud at her performance of the heart-wrenching song "I Still Believe" vis-a-vis the equally-amazing Ellen. The actor playing Thuy gave such an... electric, goosebumps-worthy performance as the malevolent cousin-lover of Kim.

Inside the Albertus Magnus Auditorium, I was feeling like a little kid giddy in my anticipation and excitement. I don't care if this musical is ethno-centric, cliché-ish, or has a lot of feminist issues. If I hear the familiar sound of the army chopper descending on the American Embassy in Vietnam sometime in the 1970's, followed by the quiet tinkling sound ascending to a heart-racing boom from the orchestra, I am bound to sing along: The Heat is On.

At the office building's rooftop,

And atop the urban landscape, I find solace amid the city lights.

Roy Mustang and Ryan Ross are giving me all sorts of funny fuzzy feels lately.

 The former does not even exist and the latter is a bitch.

(My) All-nighters are overrated

If there's one defining trait I am conscious of knowing I have, it's my tendency to get to the real action only when the buzzer's near to beating. College has deeply ingrained in me the inclination of having a particular sense of crisis to motivate me. I know it's not a trait to be proud of, but despite years of being such a buzzer beater, I get results and has never failed to accomplish the tasks I have set out to do. And perhaps, as a journalist-in-training, it's the deadlines that pump the blood in my veins. I am conscious of the importance of abiding by my timeframes and proper planning but it's the thought of conquering deadlines that give me the adrenaline rush to work and get the job the done.

Besides, it's probably second nature of the life in the University to forego sleep on the eve of the deadline. I also see myself working more efficiently when the rest of the world around me are already asleep, lost in their respective dreamlands. I prefer solitude more than I'd care to admit, and it's in the nighttime that I get to embrace this choice and set to work on my own pace.

Or maybe I'm just justifying my lack of desire to accomplish things earlier than I had to.

Such as this thesis.