We are made of everyone else.

In the end, I reveal that with all the theory in my head, I just want to be able to prove that love exists.

because i can’t seem to figure out how to respond to charm on this post (ano ba tumblr!)

Charm said: is there something in the air now that makes people reflect upon “sadnesses”? nagsisimula pa lang mag tagulan ganito na ang simoy ng panahon. Masaya tumakbo sa ulan. Nasabi ko na ba sa’yo yun?

yes, i think the gray weather makes it easier for people to indulge in their inner gloom.  but it wasn’t that necessarily. I can be sad and brooding under the sun-drenched afternoons of a beach.

 I think I was more surprised with my own response to melodrama that was this made-for-tv version of Wuthering Heights—a recognition that though I’d love to be the wry, dry and ironic interpreter of sexual frustration and relationships, at my core I am a downright sniveling romantic. 

I read Wuthering Heights a long, long time ago—young enough that it was the innocence of Little Women which made more of a mark. But seeing it onscreen at 30 and with a lit degree tucked somewhere in my cleavage (heehee,) I couldn’t help pulling it apart as a text. (I also think it’s my smarter self trying to elevate the one who was seeking Tom Hardy and that too-sharp nose over those too-thick lips)

There was so much cruelty and so much longing. Like the repression and the fact that a woman was mere property made the men so, so, so childish. That a father’s love can not be shared, that status is the only way you can be assured that you will have a paltry sense of power. 

(grabe na! what is this pseudo-reading?)

And siyempre, how things seemed to be in a strict opposition to something else. The civilized vs the heathen, man vs woman (obviously!), kindness vs cruelty etc etc etc

But for the poor unfortunate couple (so much more tragic than romeo and juliet!) these things did not make sense. These oppositions are obliterated because of their love for each other.

[i love this stylistic fact—Though they constantly spoke to each other of love (the constant punctuation of their sentences with my love even in an argument,) they are only able to truly express what the other person means when fumbling to explain it to someone else.]

Both Heathcliff and Catherine talk about how they are each other. I am Heathcliff; She is me. This means largely different things because Heathcliff loathes himself most of all it seems. But that is a kind of love that we don’t really hear about anymore because it’s too codependent, it’s too odious in the world of individuality. But that makes sense to me. Though probably not in the real world where tedium is just as weighty as so much emotion. (i obviously want to write more about the tv show. and probably about fukunaga’s jane eyre. and probably hihintayin kita sa langit.) 

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though charm, i have a feeling that that was far far from what you were saying. and to wit, i’ve always loved football in the rain. i’ve also stopped singing “im only happy when it rains,” because well, I’ve become so earnest it hurts.