Hmm... Tuesday and.. nothing really set for gaming yet
And this is weird, I tell you. Weird. Once, there was a time when accomodating players was the problem. When struggling to find a way to have ten.. fifteen people play in a single game was my biggest worry. And now, I toss an offer for gaming over the Holy Week break and I get two nibbles and a wayward note. Strange how times have indeed changed.
Better than none I guess.
Still haven't seen The Passion and frankly, I feel bad that I haven't. I don't tend to be religious, but I am a faithful person with firm beliefs that I hold on to. And I have to admit that the movie touches a part of me that I usually keep private. Naughty jokes aside, I think the film is a powerful evocative achievement and I do hope to get a chance to see it without annoying cellphone creeps beside my seat. Opted for the soundtrack to tide me over and I have to admit, it has proven to be a wonderful buy. Other than being very moving and very powerful... its perfect for scoring my roleplaying games!
Also, finally got a hold of the soundtrack to the movie Nausicaa by Studio Ghibli. Not as good nor as moving as I recall, but the main theme still gets me smiling and longing for a time when having around the Ohmu was part of my dreams. I dunno... this Lenten season is making me long for my past more than anything. Maybe its some throwback moment or something.
Had a strange dream a few nights ago. Haven't really told anyone, but I guess now is a good time to post it.
I saw old friends. Old faces. Eddie. Tom. Dave. Popay. Wanggo. Chrissie. Rex. Gigi. Aileen. Charles. Mike. People from a college organization called Malate that I was formerly part of. They were laughing. They were sharing jokes and tossing comments about people they knew. And I was watching them enjoy the party and the joking and the drinks and only realised after an amount of time that none of them could see me.
And it was then I realised why.
Because I was the reason they had a gathering. I was dead.
Typically, dying in a dream is a symbolic death. A change of self. A transformation of who one once was to what one can now become. And the appearance of the Malate group suggests this meant a change in the direction or the influences of that group. Perhaps if I was a bastard in that group's mindset before, I ain't one anymore. Or vice versa. Maybe I was really an artist then. But now?
I don't really know.
Not too long ago, someone killed the romantic in me.
And just before that, someone took from me what I wasn't willing to give.
Both I have forgiven and still found myself being treated as the one at fault.
Just like before when my heart was broken by a nine-month long lie
and yet found the strength to forgive the same person that same night.
And still I was the one seen as the cruel one.
Now, I am happier. I am independent. I got my own apartment. I got a good job. I got wonderful friends.
And I got a life. One that I can be proud of. One that I can share with others. Ah I am rambling.
Enough. Back to work.
Toodles, Mr. Jim.