Thursday, February 14, 2008
my funny valentine
* Note, author was dead tired while writing this but has decided that the day cannot end without this entry being written.
So there I was walking down Circular Quay towards the Opera Bar with friends Carl, and Cat. It was 6 pm, after-work hours, and everyone was out for Valentines. Everywhere there were couples, couples, couples. Elderly couples in comfy old sweaters holding hands in the park, young couples in their tight, sexy dresses, and black suits, yuppies starting a an after-work romance over a few cocktails.
Right past the Gelatissimo stand, I saw a more unusual-looking couple walking towards us. They stood out not only because they were same-sex, but because they looked so hip. They were dressed so relaxed-cool, and the one on the right had a nice, lean frame, and walked with a certain, off-beat swagger that just drew attention. He was wearing big black shades even though the sun had that late afternoon soft light.
How sweet, I thought, a hip, young same-sex couple out on Valentine's day. Or so I thought.
As we drew closer to each other, both groups walking at a slow, leisurely pace, I couldn't help but notice swagger-boy's hair. It was bleached blond so exquisitely. And that goatee, that jawline, I had seen it before. Something about him was compelling, and strangely attractive, the green cardigan, the camera around his neck, the black shades, the metrosexual-ness.
As we passed each other, I said to my friend Carl in a voice that was too loud to not have been heard, "That guy looks like Daniel Johns".
Two steps later, Carl says to me, "Dude... that is Daniel Johns".
And immediately, I turned around. I could feel my jaw hanging open and my eyes bugging out, and I remember seeing the green clad figure walking away from me, now about 15-20 feet away and slowly growing even more distant. Was it really him? Beside him, the guy he was with (long brown hair, brown jacket... his bandmate?) was looking at me and laughing at the petrified, starstruck, fangirl who thought he was just a guy who looked like Daniel Johms.
This was it, the moment I had been dreaming of for years. Effing destiny! Yes, there was a reason why I ran into him after he divorced Natalie Imbruglia! And he was walking away! I knew I couldn't let this moment pass. I knew that after he disappeared around the corner, I might never cross paths with him again. So before I lost him forever, I decided to let him know how I really felt. And on a total whim, on pure gut instinct, I called out- no!- screamed out, "I LOVE YOU!!!"
Yes, I did it. In public, too. I am not ashamed.
And in the most magical moment of my life, he turned around smiling and waved at me before walking onwards. He waved at me! Me! And he was laughing! I could see his teeth!
Why I didn't run after him for a photo, I don't know. It would have been awkward. To tell you personally, I've never liked having my photo taken with celebs. It's always awkward and embarrassing, and I feel like I don't ever want to see them again afterwards. I liked how I had my moment, and some friends as witnesses to vouch for it, nothing more. I think I like it better that way.
Anyway, I just about hyper-ventilated after and made 3 long-distance phone calls just to tell people back home I saw Daniel Johns. Happy Valentines Day to me!!!
* P.S. I said "I love you" to Daniel Johns before Nin today. But Nin totally understood. Recalling our phone conversation:
N: Hello?
A: Nin, Nin, ohmygodohmygodohmygoooood guess what, guess who I just saw!!!
N: Daniel Johns?
*P.P.S. In my life, I have had the pleasure of screaming "I love you!", to two men in rock that I adore, the other being Dave Matthews.
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Sunday, February 03, 2008
love on paper
I've been reading a book called "Four Letter Word", which is a compilation of fictional love letters written by 40 or so different authors, each with their own renown (though the only one I know among them is Neil Gaiman). The aim of the book is to resurrect the dying art of the love letter. It never occurred to me to treat the art of love-letter writing as a genre in itself, and I've been casually enjoying the book as a good bedtime read. I love all the different shades of love the authors experiment with, blissful love, stalker-love, bitter love, heartbreak love, quiet, happy love, etc.
Do you keep love letters? I've gotten a few of my own in my lifetime. I remember clearly the very first one I got. I was 12 years old. It was from a tall, pudgy, bespectacled Kostkan, written in pencil, on a shred of intermediate pad.
At that age, I lived by the belief that boys had cooties, while secretly wondering on the inside whether I was desirable to the opposite sex.
But alas, I had not interest in this poor, awkward Kostkan. At that age, I don't think any guy would have had a chance. The letter embarrassed me, and I snubbed him, and eventually threw the sad scrap of paper away.
I regret it now.
My first boyfriend, who was 15 years old, used to write me love letters, on even sorrier scraps of notebook paper. These scraps were not even torn away evenly from the rest of the sheet, and his spelling and handwriting were atrocious. Also, he liked to use too many dots............ like that.
I didn't get the chance to keep them because somebody in school stole my file-o-fax one tearful day, and the letters were in there neatly tucked away. (I heard he has kept my letters to this day, though. I am embarrassed to think of what I possibly could have written him on those sheets of intermediate pad).
My first love wrote me a song called "Angel", and it is to my deepest regret that I threw the only copy of the lyrics away after a horrible break-up.
I also regret not filing away poetry from a handful of admirers. Bad poetry, I must say, but written in a moment of true, sincere, inspiration. (At least for a couple of times in my life, I experienced what it was like to be someone's creative muse).
Love letters are a dying art in this tech-savvy world. My ancestors left behind piles of hand-written confessions of love for their grandchildren to read through long after they're gone. What will my grandchildren leaf through after I'm gone? E-mail? If the technology is not outdated by that time, that is (and only if any of them even know my password- ha!)
I learned my lesson a few years ago about love letters, and that is to never throw them away, or at least not all of them. Always keep one or two from each relationship. Years from now, long after the relationship is gone, you'll read through them and remember that somebody loved you for who you were at that singular moment in time. It also reminds you of what a loving and loveable person you can be. Even if the relationship may have ended messily, reading an old love letter reminds you that at one point in time, somebody looked at you and saw pure gold. It is also a written record of a soul laid bare, exposed and vulnerable, reminding you of the pure gold in the writer that you once saw and may have forgotten about since then. It is a pure, genuine moment documented on paper.
Can you really read an old love-letter without it eliciting some sort of emotional response from you, be it a giggle, a tear, or your gag reflex? Even reading love letters intended for someone else can produce an "aaawww" from any reader. I have kept love-letters that, to this day, make me cry when I read them.
One of my favorite remnants of the love-affair between my lolo and lola is an old sepia photograph of my lola. Her hair is set, her lips are painted, and she is wearing a pearl necklace and a gorgeous smile. She is not staring directly at the lens, but a bit off-center, as if she is focusing on something magical and far-away. On the bottom corner is written in delicate, fountain-pen handwriting: "To my dearest Romy, I will love you forever, Love, Alice."
I also remember going to see a museum display on Ancient Egypt, and getting the shivers after reading an English translation of a shred of tattered, yellowing scroll on display in a glass case. In thousand year-old handwriting, it read: "Greetings brother, I hope that you are well. You know that I love you, so why do you not love me?". It was written so long ago yet I could still feel his pain, the very same pain of unrequited love that all of us humans still suffer from.
I refrain from reading the few love-letters I've kept too often lest I become desensitized to their message. I hide them away in some place where I can I forget about them, but also make sure there's a chance of me stumbling upon them in the future.
And with that, I have already composed a short, sweet, love-letter that is already on its way across the ocean on the back of a postcard to get to its intended recipient by Valentine's Day. I hope the Philippine postal service does not fail me.
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