My Tune: The Blues by Switchfoot
[Impermissible fragments are ahead due to a severely subdued symphonic aura.]
After almost like a lifetime of being in a seemingly unending bliss, I am, in irony, announcing that I right now choose to be sad.
The reasons for this fact are too vague to even be thought of for quite a while. I’m not even sure if I really have reasons to be sad… or if I even need reasons to be sad on the first place.
Whatever. I choose to wear a long face, a crooked smile and cheeks that signal agony— at least that’s what I choose to do lately.
Yeah. Things have been smooth for me. Things have always been smooth for me. But you see, I feel like wanting to grieve over something; to worry about something; to cry endlessly and yes, even EMOtionally over some things.
Just 48 hours ago, I told Pango about one of my weirdest dreams— one kind of dream I believe doesn’t visit me in my sleep that often. I’ll tell you my dream…
So I woke up. It was already like seven thirty in the morning (it seemed like so).
Apparently, it was a beautiful sunny morning. There were chirping birds, dancing trees, swirling winds and a bunch of happy people.
I was at school, of course.
I decided to open my bag to scan my notes but just as I opened it,
I found one of my notebooks wet like a tsunami just hit it right through its innocent pages.
Yeah. Right. This kind of misadventure happens. Everything happens especially in dreams. There are no boundaries. But wait ’til I tell you what’s worse…
THE WET NOTEBOOK WAS MY ENGLISH NOTEBOOK.
Another shallow fact? No. Not in my case. Of all my school notebooks, it’s the one with the most-filled pages. It’s the one that never disappears inside my bag— the one which I never bother to keep inside my locker even just for a day; it’s one of the things I read not for academic purposes, but simply for a priceless pleasure and a dose of knowledge at ease. It’s the only notebook which I have been concealing within my bag since day one.
…. and now it’s wet.
The ending of this dream of mine? I cried over the notebook for like a hundred times and I even went to the guidance office for counseling.
Now, isn’t that just hilarious? Of course, it’s NOT.
I consequently consulted my classmates who have a knack in psychological matters, and I asked them, for the first time in my life, to interpret this dream which I unexpectedly had. The interpretation? Well, to put it simply…
I am about to lose one thing which I value the most in the near future. When this time comes, I will weep over it like there’s no tomorrow.
How’s that for a threat? Quite convincing? More like depressing.
What’s worse is that I think I have an idea of what I am about to lose.
I guess all I can do right now is to keep surfing the waves that keep me afloat right now. The melancholic waves, that is.
Again, I remain steadfast in an abstract grief.
To seal this confession up, here’s a part of the lines of one of the songs which make me want to just look down and be… sad.
Is this the New Year or just another night?
Is this the new fear or just another fright?
Is this the new tear or just another desperation?
Is this the finger or just another fist?
Is this the kingdom or just a hit n’ miss?
I miss direction, most in all this desperation.
Is this what they call freedom?
Is this what you call pain?
Is this what they call discontented fame?
You push until you’re shoving
You bend until you break
Do you stand on the broken fields where your fathers lay?
It’ll be a day like this one when the world caves in.
Is nothing here worth saving?
Is no one here at all?
Is there any net left that could break our fall?
It’ll be a day like this one
When the sky falls down and the hungry and poor and deserted are found.
Are you discontented? Have you been pushing hard?
Have you been throwing down this broken house of cards?
Does justice never find you? Do the wicked never lose?
Is there any honest song to sing besides these blues?
By the way, I am right now really convinced that there’s no point hanging up when the line is dead; that sometimes, we can never really get what we really want; that though one man’s junk’s another’s treasure, one’s treasure may also be another man’s junk; that it’s not everyday that we have to be happy. There’s always a time for grief; that sometimes, it’s relieving to grieve. That way, we gradually throw our worries away in a natural manner; that no matter how preoccupied we may be, at the end of the day, we still go back to this place we always desperately run away from; that if you take a look at the big picture, life is already wonderful just the way it is. There are no extra credits needed— no extra futile efforts— just us, and Him.
Wow. I learned a lot the past two weeks. I really learned a lot.