The RANTS of a BUSTED BULB

7. What’s your strangest talent?

This is prolly going to sound stupid, but here goes… I can alter the sound of my laughter—but only once I’ve started laughing. (Why do I feel as dumb as Karen Smith from Mean Girls?)

Let me try to word this better. Once you get me to crack up—which isn’t too hard to do—I can pretty much manipulate the personality and the voice of my laughter into just about anyone or anything. Yes, laughter has personality. I can turn the regular hahahas into booming hwahwahwas, creepy hihhihis, dorky hehehes, and wild hunghoasnaldhahasadakjnha.

Okay. That doesn’t make sense in writing, but I swear! You’ll just have to trust me on this one. Better yet, make me laugh and ask me to do it.

Actually, I can even imitate laughs. Meaning if there’s some hapless loser beside me who just so happens to have a conspicuously weird laugh, kawawa siya sa akin. [He’s dead meat.] I’ll impersonate it down to the inflections and the pitch.

(I must add though, it’s become an interest of mine to copy people’s voices. Sometimes I’d just stand there and start listening to a person’s tone, pitch and accent. I am weird that way.)

Oh! And it gets even better. I can extend the laughter for minutes—even if nothing’s funny anymore. Chances are, though, you’re still laughing with me. It’s just that strange.

Sentence count: 21
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56. In a relationship?

Oh. You.

Best. Choice. Of. Question. Ever. As in. Ever.
Really. Like really. Totally. 

Um. Say what? Like. Uh.

So… like. 

NO. Hahahaha.
*tear

Sentence count: 20-ish.

ASK!

Ahehehehe….

I feel both embarrassed and flattered. Thank you. :)

On your first question: your expectation shall, unfortunately, not be met. I’m joining the Junior Term Abroad program and heading for Korea this August. And I’ll be there until the end of the year. So unless the fates move the audition dates, I won’t be performing this school year. (If you know me and you know what our season ender is, then you know I’m depressed.)

However… I won’t be graduating from this school without returning to the stage. So you can watch out for that. Promise!

On your second question: Nothing beats confidence and passion.
Don’t hold yourself back from being who you are. When you have the confidence, you’ll just glow, and that’s an x-factor you’ll need in the org and on the stage. (Trust me, the x-factor is important. :>)

And of course, nothing’s impossible if you have passion. If you just love something, you’ll do everything it takes to make it greater. Just give it your all. All the way, man.

If there’s something I absolutely abhor seeing on stage, it’s when the performers are half-assed. You need to be focused. Kailangang bigay talaga. There’s a really big difference in quality.

blueREPPER newbie tip: I randomly choose newbies to bully. So if you happen to be one of them, don’t take it personally. You’re probably just too nice.

Although I only bully guys, which I am guessing you are not? Am I right?
I think I know you. Haha!

68. What do you think is Satan’s last name?

You know how you call people by their last name? And I don’t mean in that friendly tone where said person makes use of trendy last-name nicknames. I’m talking about when you would call someone by their last name when everybody else calls him/her by another, more familiar name.

I mean, there are a number of reasons you do that. There’s the unfamiliarity. There’s the coldness. There’s the distance. There’s that awkwardness that you don’t dare enter by calling that person by his/her given name.

Dragging this along, you could call them by their last name simply to show rebellion. You want to extend your lack of respect for them (and vice-versa). You just feel utter contempt and hate that, rather than build some kind of first name-basis kind of relationship, you decide to keep things insultingly formal.

I mean, calling someone by a term of endearment shows how comfortable you are with each other. Calling someone by their nickname means there’s a relationship or a friendship. First names keep things formal and settled without too much stiffness.

But last names alone are just sad. Without the accompanying mister or miss or other, it’s like you’ve made the person a generic pill. It’s like you’ve  put that person on the top shelf, hoping you’ll never have to call him/her ever again. It’s as if you’ve dug a canal and let the water flow between the two of you. “Keep as far away from me as possible, loser.”

So in other words, I babbled through a meadow of flowery words just to say: I think Satan is itself his last name. It’s as simple as that.

Sentence count: 21.
Ask! 

76. In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Shit. That question. *composes self*
Okay…

I’m a romantic. Always have been. And even if I haven’t exactly been there to make some kind of answer to this question, there’s just something in me that knows in some way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be hoping for it.

Gahd. I’m having a hard time putting this into words, so forgive the verbal diarrhea.

In my hopeful opinion, what makes a great relationship has got to be that unspoken connection—that state of just being, being together at that. It’s that oneness past all the worrisome tangibles and idiotic occurrences of living. Am I making sense?

Sure, we can all make our statements, proclaiming we’re in love. But those cold, loud words could just be empty. Aren’t we just reassuring ourselves that we’re not lonely? I’d like believe a great relationship goes beyond those words. It moves through heartbeats and into hormones, minds and hearts. It’s feeling the other person, being that other person and still knowing who you are.

It’s looking into that person’s eyes and, without hesitation, knowing that what your feeling is real. It’s that state where you’ve gone past caring—the state where all you’re doing is being.

It’s saying a thousand words without so much as making a single sound. And feeling those words envelope your existence. It’s being in that still, singular moment and have all of time pass by.

To reach that stage in a relationship, for me, would define it as great.

Truth be told: I’ve yet to experience “it,” but somehow, I know—or at least, I’m hopeful—it will be there.

Post-rereading comment: Damn, I don’t remember taking any weed.

Sentence count: 20-ish.
Ask!