*Larita Kutsarita - n. see THE AUTHOR
*Spoonfuls - n. articles/dispatches/scribbles by Larita Kutsarita
(Background photo by Aiess Alonso)

Thursday, July 16, 2009

The Baket List

Warning! Below is nothing but whining. This piece is strictly for whiners, those who are used to whiners, those who appreciate whining, those who can tolerate whining, and those who do not mind pausing for a moment from pretending that they are invincible and are willing to whine along. If you are not any of the aforementioned, I suggest that you immediately leave this page and go to a site that has more positive vibes like, say, Hallmark, or somewhere that has that fluffy life-is-perfect-if-only-you-wish-hard-enough kind of feel like Disney for instance. And if you happen to be a pro-whining person, then I also suggest that you check out Jessica Zafra’s site (jessicarulestheuniverse.com): she does it best.
“Ga-gradweyt ako, ga-gradweyt ako, ga-gradweyt ako...” I mumble in the midst of heavy breathing in my little treks from building to building, corridor to corridor, classroom to classroom. They all look the same to me. Even the sea of faces do not seem any different from one another unless somebody familiar calls my name and reminds me that I still live, or that I still have friends (or acquaintances), or that I am recognized and remembered when all I want is to be Casper at the moment, minus the “friendly ghost” part. I recite my mantra for this year over and over—“Ga-gradweyt ako, ga-gradweyt ako, ga-gradweyt ako...”—either in my head or in the form of loud thoughts. In spite of that, each repetition, for some strange f**king reason, makes the objective even more distant, the prospect of the work even more arduous. What’s sicker is that I have barely begun and yet the frustration.... The frustration is. Most unbearable. Beyond that of which was caused by my shattered dreams of being a novelist at 18, by my inability to swim or dance or be good at any kind of sport aside from my imaginings of Quidditch, by the deaths of Hedwig and Dumbledore!
Speaking of, I have been wanting to know when the sixth Harry Potter movie will come out on IMAX in SM North since last week and so I went to see the screening time literally handwritten in a ten-ish font size on a small piece of paper in front of the ticket lady (this was to be found in the allegedly “Third Biggest Mall in the World”). And then I noticed this particular phrase which I assume is the SM Cinema’s tagline: “Your Life as a Movie.” Pakshet. Another one of Henry Sy’s capitalist lies. In movies, the director gets to choose his/her actors. Even the actors can refuse a script. The writers get to choose their kind of adventure. The audience gets to pick between a Sharon Cuneta or a Megan Fox flick (this is, by the way, a no-brainer). After the film, there’s a lot of fanfare and publicity and if your film doesn’t suck like Gigli or Glitter or Crossroads even, then it might have a shot at being an immortalized classic like, say, Gone With the Wind or Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Oh but then, life is anything but Scarlett O’Hara’s waist or Holly Golightly’s happy-go-lucky-free-as-a-bird-elegant-sort-of-whore kind of lifestyle. Nah. Life is nothing like the movies. Maybe the silver screen has been trying to imitate life but it’s never the other way around. Otherwise, we’d all have credits rolling in the end. In real life, we only have epitaphs or urns for a conclusion (if we get lucky enough to have others give us decent funerals, anyway). My thinking that life is like a Meg Ryan chick flick—or a Nicholas Sparks romance, or a Coca-cola billboard, or a Jollibee commercial—has since been over for me. Not when happiness ceases to be a worthy enough pursuit and remains a mere word, a noun of nine letters with double P’s and S’s and three vowels. This is when I ask that horrible question that Rick Warren has tried to answer in vain (at least for me): What do I live for?
The following are even more questions that currently drive me nuts enough to kick the bucket. Hopefully, they will have their final answers and leave me in peace (and alive) or just vanish from the realms of my overworked and yet questioning brain without being answered but leave me in peace just the same (well and alive, too).
1) Bakit lagi na lang akong pagod kahit ‘di naman ako nagpapagod?
2) Bakit minsan, ‘di naman umuulan pero panay ang shower mula sa taas? Umiiyak din kaya ang mga puno?
3) Bakit kung kelan ga-graduate na, mas tinatamad ka nang mag-aral? Parang ‘di ka na apektado ng pressure at gusto mo na lang maglaho dahil wala kang makitang point sa paggawa ng thesis na hindi naman malilimbag sa isang international journal (balita ko maraming pera rito) at magsasayang pa ng sangkatutak na papel na galing sa libo-libong puno (hence, your own contribution to the murder of Mother Nature). Hypothesis: The Revision and Repetitive Editing and Printing for the Sake of a Decent Thesis That Will Only Satisfy a Select Few of the Judging Faculty are Harmful to the Environment.
4) Bakit merong mga kaibigang talagang panandalian lang? Parang ‘yung mga murang payong na nabibili sa tabi-tabi at mapapakinabangan lamang sa loob ng isang linggo (kung maswerte ka).
5) Bakit ako nagtitiis at nagtitiyaga pa kung ang pinakamadali ay ang tumakas (san naman kaya ‘ko pupunta?), magpakamatay (‘di pa naman ata ‘ko ganun kayabang), mamundok (the only way to fix a society is to be an active part of it), o maglaho na lang (‘di pa ‘ko marunong mag-teleport...besides, energy can never be destroyed, only transformed)? (wild guess: nagtatapang-tapangan pa kasi e)
6) Bakit ‘pag ikaw nagmamahal, handa kang isigaw sa buong mundong mahal mo siya kahit ‘di siya willing gawin ang bagay na ‘yun? ‘Pag mas expressive ba, ibig ba sabihin, mas marunong ka magmahal o madaldal ka lang talaga?
7) Bakit ‘pag me problema, mas napapansin niya? Pero ‘pag wala, indifferent siya? Mas masaya’t makulit siya sa ibang tao pero pagdatingg sa’yo, puro hinanakit at problema lang ang maririnig mo.
8) Bakit ‘pag nagkakasakit, saka lang nagiging mahalaga ang buhay para sa isang tao? Dahil kung nagkakasakit man, parang ibang tao nang nagpapatakbo ng buhay mo maliban sa mga gamot at duktor na pilit pahahabain ang buhay na hindi naman iyo.
9) Bakit buong buhay mo, tuturuan ka nilang maging isang “mapagmahal na nilalang ng Diyos” pero sa oras na nagmamahal ka na, sasabihin nilang unahin mo muna ang sarili mo?
10) Bakit kelangang “bakit?” Bakit hindi “bakit hindi?” Bakit “bakit?”
And yet, the mumbling continues: “Ga-gradweyt ako, ga-gradweyt ako, ga-gradweyt ako....”

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