The Noise of Music

Another essay brought to you by ENGLONE class...

College is sucking the life out of meeeeee...
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Hard rock, rap, metal. Rhythm ‘n blues, pop, country. Reggae, soul, jazz.

Music. Noise.

It’s the kind of thing people never tire arguing about.

In theory, it’s really very easy to compare noise and music. They’re both sounds. Noise is unpleasant to hear, while music is, well, pleasing to the ears. In application, it’s a little less easy to compare how each person plots the boundaries between noise and music.

There are the standard comparisons. Noise consists of random sounds that are grating to the ears; music has a melody, a tone, a beat. Noise lacks harmony, lacks direction, lacks rhythm. But then, is every song music to every person’s ears?

To some people, the rock genre is what defines music. All other kinds of music are considered as mere playthings, background noise. Rock is the epitome of music. But not all rock is music. Noisemakers range from bands that are unfortunate enough to have clean-cut poster boys as vocalists, to posers who do not truly know what rock is all about. What is rock all about then? Who has the right to define a genre? Is it the so-called connoisseurs and critics who have lived and breathed “rightful” rock? To them, music is the right, or more appropriately, the correct form of rock. All that deviate from this form, christen them as “noise”.

In every variety of music, not just rock, we can always find these persons. Their view of music is black-and-white. A song should follow rigid standards, “music morals”, in order to be considered music. They can hardly hear music through the din of others who have failed their harmony test.

On the other hand, there are many who like music from many genres, and who do not like other music from the same genres. The label of music or noise is then taken song by individual song. To these people, music is simply what makes them laugh, cry, ponder on, and moves them. Noise is simply those songs that blend quite well into the clamor and racket of the background.

Music is so varied nowadays, speaking generally. But music isn’t really that varied, because for every person, there is always a set of tunes that is truly music to their ears; the rest are just noise.

Will She Ever Find Her Way Back Home to Me?

Yes! :)

Flown Away From Me

" ‘Cause this angel has flown away from me
Leaving me in drunken misery
I should have clipped her wings and made her mine
For all eternity
Now this angel has flown away from me
Thought I had the strength to set her free
Did what I did because I love her so
Will she ever find her way back home to me"
- Heaven Knows [Orange and Lemons]

Here I am, insisting that I am right, that I should just stay away. Just stay away from trouble. But here I am, staying away, but only in deed. In my heart, I just can't. It's undeniably tearing me apart when I know that this is for the best that I stay away, yet I also know that somehow, it just isn't complete if I stay away.

Once again, I'm proven right. If I do nothing, you'll do nothing. It's always I who initiates, never you. But being proven right doesn't mean that my feelings of doubt go away. Sometimes, I try staying away so much that all I can think about is you.

I thought I knew what I was doing. =/

Best Friends

Here's an essay from ENGLONE about something I saw in 10 minutes of walking around the campus.
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They hold onto each other’s hands, walking amidst the crowd of students along the cobblestone path in front of St. Joseph Hall. The boy whispers something to his companion; her light laugh carries over to where I sit musing, watching the persons around me. They call themselves best friends.

The boy and the girl stroll along the shaded lane, oblivious to the hustle and bustle of a university’s busy afternoon life. Sunlight illuminates dust motes that swirl around them, illuminates the hurried outlines of people going someplace important. They have not a care for the world existing around them; each only has his attention for the other. Their banter cuts through the din of the throng, soft yet subtly powerful voices rising and falling in pitch; the boy’s deep voice complementing the girl’s mellow tones. The two best friends bask in each other’s company.

They chance upon mutual friends in their lazy meandering. They seem to be unconscious of the jokes and teases directed at them by their buddies. The best friends seem safe and secure in each other’s company. Their smiles speak of a deep connection, a tight bond between them, whose existence only they know.

They walk away from everyone else, lost again in their shared personal world. They call themselves best friends. Perhaps, deep within their hearts, they know that they are already more than that.

Snobs and I

I've become addicted to another song, this time by Vertical Horizon.

"He's everything you want 
He's everything you need 
He's everything inside of you 
That you wish you could be 
He says all the right things 
At exactly the right time 
But he means nothing to you 
And you don't know why"

-Everything You Want
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What is a snob?

Wikipedia gives the following definition: "A snob, guilty of snobbery or snobbism, is a person who imitates the manners, adopts the world-view and affects the lifestyle of a social class of people to which that person does not by right belong."

I think the snob's mindset is that although he does not "by right" belong to his chosen social class, he belongs to it "by privilege."

I learned a lesson from reading Archie comic books. (On a side note, Archie comic books have been important factors in shaping my heart and soul. Such is the power and wisdom of Archie comics.) Anyway, as I've said, I got an important rule-of-the-thumb from Archie.

"Everyone is a snob, in his or her own way."

I can see the truth in that. A person might be a muscle-type of snob. Another might be a snob of a brainy-type. People are snobs in their own little fields of proficiency, thus my conclusion that snobs belong by privilege.

And myself? I'm a not-studying snob. I pride myself on achieving the status of being able to not study and still get good grades, and stay with people on the same level. Okay, maybe I get lower grades than other people who are as smart as me AND study as well, but for a snob like me, that's besides the point. The point which says that, "Yes, I am better than thou because I can get away with not studying."

There is one drawback to being a not-studying snob, though.

Actually, there are two. One being that people assume that since I get high grades, I study, and thus I am industrious. Which couldn't be farther from the truth of me.

Second, and more importantly, I always think, "What if?" What if I had studied? What if I had paid attention in lectures? Could it be that my high grades obtained from not studying soar even higher just by taking down notes? Could it be that my potential to be great will only stay a potential, and not become realized?

Oh, I guess those are the pitfalls of being a glorified snob. :)

I'm Here in the Now

I'm here in the now, and it's boring.

I'm sitting across the screen in our The LaSallian office trying to do my religion report. Not much progress there. I find myself strangely drawn to friendster, mainly because I only check my friendster here in the office, as there's nothing better to do.

Anyway, I fooled around with Friendster™ blogs. Here's my firzt entry -->

http://jenoosia.blogs.friendster.com/my_first_friendster_blog/

Enjoy! :)

P.S. After reading my post... Yes, it's THAT boring here.

You Say The Words That I Can't Say

"Every time i think of you
I feel shot right through with a bolt of blue
It's no problem of mine but it's a problem I find
Living a life that I can't leave behind
There's no sense in telling me
The wisdom of a fool won't set you free
But that's the way that it goes
And it's what nobody knows
While every day my confusion grows
Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray
I'm waiting for that final moment
You'll say the words that I can't say

I feel fine and I feel good
I'm feeling like I never should
Whenever I get this way, I just don't know what to say
Why can't we be ourselves like we were yesterday
I'm not sure what this could mean
I don't think you're what you seem
I do admit to myself
That if I hurt someone else
Then I'll never see just what we're meant to be
Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray
I'm waiting for that final moment
You'll say the words that I can't say."

- Bizarre Love Triangle

Coming from a weekend (last Friday actually) I spent two of my high school friends, I'm relatively depressed. I had hoped to bring my joy at seeing Jon and Ja again after so long with me, but this week's been gloomy so far.

I was surfing through my WinAmp playlist when I stumbled onto a song entitled (you guessed it!) Bizarre Love Triangle. It really spoke out to me. I'm just a sucker for these old love songs. You know that feeling, like you're suddenly punched in the heart by some old song whose lyrics just sympathized with you? I wonder why they don't make those kinds of songs today.

Anyway, I'm here being gloomy about something that's mostly intangible and in the far far future. I think I'm being a bit silly feeling down. But there we have it.

It's just a weird feeling that I will be alone for the rest of my life. Weird, no? Yeah, but it's how I feel right now. Mostly, it's about the feeling of temporariness. Yes, I have today, probably even tomorrow. But what about tomorrow's tomorrow? Will I still have the people I hold dear? My mind's saying, "No, what you have is temporary." That's what I'm lacking right now- a sense of security.

What with recent events changing a part of my life and all, it's very hard to have security. You wake up one morning to find out that in the space of a few hours, everything has changed, or at least something has changed. You find out that in the space of a dream or a nightmare, someone has gone.

But life goes on, whether we like it or not. Or whether we have security or not.

I wonder when I'll regain my little bubble of security again.

No Such Thing

"Welcome to the real world," she said to me, condescendingly.

Life is full of imperfections. Why is this so? One simple reason.

Perfection is relative.

The ideal is relative.

What may be perfect to a person might be less than ideal to someone else. What constitutes perfection in the eyes of one may not be the case in the eyes of another. Some may argue that a perfect square is perfection, others may think that being math-less is perfect. Okay, bad example. The cheesy saying goes, "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder." In this case, perfection is in the eyes of the beholder.

My ideal mate. Would have to be female. But that's obvious. And corny, I suppose.

Since we are talking about ideal mates here, I am going to leave my second's hesitation about sounding stuck-up. After all, one can't scrimp on perfection.

I have this thing (read: fetish) about long hair. My perfect girl has long, shiny hair, for me to play with when we're cuddling. She has the kind of eyes that can speak volumes in one look. Her eyes are never cold, though. She has a well-formed nose and full, red lips. She has a beautiful face, which becomes even more beautiful because she always has on a radiant smile.

My perfect girl is fair in complexion. She is slightly smaller than me, and she carries herself with dignity. Her body is just right, slim, but not too skinny, well-formed, but not fat. I never liked girls with chopstick-thin limbs. Of course, being a full-blooded male, my perfect girl has curves in all the right places. I'm never really particular with measurements, but the sight of her would send shivers down my spine.

My perfect girl is loyal and thoughtful. She knows that I may sometimes feel insecure about her, because she is just so beautiful. She loves me because of my being me. She always reminds me that she is always there for me. She does little things, thoughtful touches that always makes me feel better.

My perfect girl is open. Whenever she has a problem, she always tells me, and I try to help her work it out. Whenever she feels down, or whenever she worries about something, she never hides it from me. I never feel that my help is unwanted. Our relationship is mutual; we both understand that. Both of us have to help each other.


My perfect girl, most of all, is considerate. She understands that even though I sometimes appear to be lazy, that is just my way of handling things. She knows and understands the little things that constitute me. When we are talking, she gives me her full attention. She never makes me feel ignored. She understands that sometimes, I need some time alone to ponder on the mysteries of life. She understands that I will always be corny, and she accepts me for who I am.

She knows my little faults, and my not-so-little faults, and she accepts that though she might be perfect, I am far from being ideal.

She knows how deeply I feel about certain things. She knows that I give my trust freely, that I believe in the kindness of strangers. She knows that I am most afraid, ironically, of being betrayed and ignored by someone I have grown to trust. She knows that I am most afraid of being hurt by those close to me, and she will never do that.

When I am with my perfect girl, I can dispense with pretensions.

When I am with my perfect girl, I can be me.

[Note: this post is our English One homework. The topic is not of my own choosing. Although it turns out that I have a lot to say this time.]

Thinking Out Loud

Here's a thought:

Has any of my friends ever noticed the fact that I have very strong and emphatic views (bordering on cheesy) on loyalty, trust, and being considerate of people I am with?

I guess I am a Romantic at heart.

I Hope Hell Freezes Over

October 31, 2005.

Halloween, and the end of my Week from the Bowels of Hell.

Monday to Saturday last week was not fun, neither was it relaxing. But it sure as heck was satisfying after finally tasting the cup of comfort yesterday.

Here's what I had to do the past week:

Monday:
Nothing much. Just a boring day, but I was already being pressured by 3 things. My Sociology report, my Menagerie article and my RELSONE poster. Darn. The pressure was getting to me.

Tuesday:
Oh yeah. After a hectic 2 hours of dance P.E., we proceeded to make our socio report, which was due that same afternoon. How very pulse-pounding. We got through it by the skin of my teeth. (WTF was THAT idiom?!) My head was pounding with the yet unfinished poster and article. After our presentation, we found out that we HAD TO MAKE ANOTHER REPORT ON THURSDAY! About another topic! $^#^%#$%$^!

That night, at around 10:30 pm, I started our RELSONE poster.

Wednesday:
Morning of the 3rd day from hell. We rushed our RELSONE poster, which was really quite decent. That morning left me with a slight headache. Still no report, and no article.

Thursday:
From 8:00 to around 12:00, I toiled on Omar's laptop, making a Word Doc about our report on Socio that my gifted blockmate could transport to powerpoint. I ended up not attending COMPRO2, then finding out that my toil was for nothing. We didn't need to report that day after all. ARG!

At least Omar let me bring the laptop home. I dropped some hints about wanting one. Hehehehe.. Then my editor messaged me in YM. Uh oh.. I had to do my article.. So I started. Then my internet connection went haywire. Sigh. Oh well. I started my article, but around 11:00pm, I started fooling with the laptop. I ended up playing Halo 'til 2:00 am.

Friday:
From 9:00 am to 2:30, I did my article. Those were some of the hardest hours of my life. But I finished it on time, right before my next class, and my head was pounding from the exertion.

When I finally went home, guess what? I had to make another report for Community Service the following day. >_<

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And so on. Sigh.

Not only that, but my emotions were in turmoil too. Sheesh.. If this is what college feels like...

It's hard enough to concentrate on your studies, but when some people you consider friends seem to care nothing at all about you, it becomes a recipe for disaster. But anyways, I'm still young. My college life is still starting. In a few years, this will all be forgotten.

But in the meantime, I hope that hell freezes over.