Appreciation Please: The Theatre Arts Edition

We live in a country where the Theatre Arts is not exactly an ideal choice of course to take in college. We only have a few schools that offer Theatre Arts as a course. This is so because we have this culture, or rather mindset, that it is not worth it because it has little pay; unlike being a doctor or a lawyer. Doctors and lawyers are the ideal jobs that the most Filipino parents would want their kids to have. This is unfair because people do not give the appreciation to this type of Art deserves. People do not understand how hard it is to be part of the theatre and fulfilling it could be. Theatre should be more appreciated for the time and effort the people put in it.

 

Theatre Actors (or even actors in general) have as much stamina and endurance, or even more, than athletes. I remember when I was younger I was told actors are athletes. Now that I am taking AB Theatre Arts, I fully understand what that statement meant. Actors (including dancers and singers) go through an extensive training regime to be able to do at least 2-3 per day. They have not only to train physically but also mentally and emotionally. Theatre Actors have to train themselves mentally because there is a lot of thinking on your feet work. They also train themselves emotionally because of all the shoes they have to fill in when they step into another character.

 

If Theatre Actors are the athletes, I would say that the Production side of Theatre is the group of Doctors, Lawyers, Engineers, Architects, Designers and Bank Accountants. They are basically the Avengers of Theatre. I feel like this side of Theatre is not so recognized by the general public. The people see and appreciate the output, yes, but they do not take time to search or find out who created the visuals of the play. But those are the Artistic Department and Technical Department only. What about the Production Department? They are composed of the Stage Managers, Company Manager, Production Manager and the Crew. This part of the Production side of theatre is, in my opinion, the most underappreciated team. Little do people know that without them there DEFINITELY won’t be anything to put up on stage.

 

Do you see now why the people in the Theatre Industry should be appreciated more? Why we should give them the respect and awe they deserve?

 

Theatre Arts is more work than what people give it credit for. It is the art of story telling through body movements, facial expressions and dialogue. Sure, it does not pay much, but it gives you a sense of fulfillment because stories speak volumes. This kind of art’s main goal is to send a real message through a physicalized story presentation.

 

Doctors and Lawyers are overrated. Having a secure future with money in your hands is overrated. It is time for an adventure. I believe it is time to give the spotlight to the underappreciated. It is time for the underdogs to take the stage this twenty-first century.

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Students and Coffee: A Love Story

The Encounter

 

Every love story starts with the encounter, a meeting, a first impression. This is no different. It starts off with Innocence. She steps into his domain, shocked by the rush of cold air and the robust smell of coffee beans. She looks around this unknown world of Coffee. Coffee sees her, and is instantly enticed by her innocence to his world. Dressed as a barista, Coffee walked to where she was and smiled at her. Coffee offered her a cup.

 

She saw Coffee smile, and her heart started racing as he gave her a cup. She took it as delicately as she could and sipped. Her eyes widened, her hands started to shake. She felt a rush of energy go through her body. She gave the cup back and smiled her biggest smile at Coffee.

 

Coffee watched her expression as she took a sip. He had a rush as he watched her expression change from tiredness to happiness and satisfaction in an instant. He thought to himself, “This is just the mild drink. Amazing how she is so happy already with this little cup.”

 

He hasn’t said anything and her heart started to sink. She thought that her wild smile freaked him out so she tried to go back to a poker face. But the problem is she couldn’t. Her nerves are too jumpy and shaky. Her whole being was being flooded with adrenaline.

 

Coffee realized he hasn’t said anything. “Hello. Do you want another one?”

 

“Yes.” She said almost immediately.

 

And just like that, her innocence to his world was gone. And Coffee smiled at the thought of that.

 

The Honeymoon Phase

 

In every love story, the couple would always go through a honeymoon phase. This is completely normal and always temporary. In this love story, there is no difference.

 

She would visit him everyday and stay with him all night long. He keeps giving her stronger and stronger drinks because she would always ask for more. Coffee would watch, as she would shake her leg and try to write her papers. She could barely concentrate because he is always around, and his smell entices her as much as it did during the first day they met.

 

Coffee is still enticed by they way his drinks affected her. Her innocence was definitely gone. And it amused him.

 

The Real Stuff

 

After every honeymoon phase, the relationship officially starts. Fights become more than petty pillow fights. Being together tends to become boring, stagnant. And of course, Jealousy takes over the tiniest things.

 

She felt the jealousy part. Every time she would prefer a different drink from Coffee’s, he would feel abandoned and mad. She would have to sip Coffee’s drink just so he would stop screaming.

 

Coffee felt the stagnant part. She does not get as excited as she used to when he would give her the drink. She would even fall asleep, even if they were talking to each other. You could say she has become a Sleeping Beauty.

 

The End

 

She and Coffee never thought they would make it out of that rough patch. But eventually they did.

 

And like most love stories, this is not over. However, for him it is over. This is an infinite time loop for Coffee. Because each girl or boy always, one way or another, stops drinking and he would have to wait for another innocent one to invite in.

 

But he remembers each and every one of his loves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One in a Million

“I could hear my heart beating. “I could hear everyone’s heart. “I could hear the human noise we sat there making. “Not one of us moved. “Not even when the room went dark. ” And I think that that’s what writing is. It’s listening for that beating heart, and when we hear it, it’s our job to decipher it to the best of our abilities. – Bill Borgens, Stuck In Love.

Every person has a story. But not every person tells it. They tend to hide it in the scars and the wounds on their bodies and on their hearts. It is our job, as writers, to decipher each scar, each wound, as precisely as possible. Then we share the stories to the world, for everyone to see the beauty of reality masked as a fantasy. People think that writers play “make believe” when they write, but in reality we are the mediums of fantasy and reality. We connect them together to form a story that is acceptable to entertain the human mind. Every person has a story. And I believe that When In Manila is able to decipher everyone’s story with justice.

 

Hello, I am Cecilia “Lia” M. de Jesus. I initially studied at University of Santo Tomas (UST) as a BS Psychology Major but shifted and now I am happily taking up AB Theatre Arts at Meridian International (MINT) College. I love acting, singing and dancing – theatre in general. In theatre, I have both been on the performing side and the production side of it. I enjoy both sides equally. I also love reading and writing. I usually write spoken word poetry, but I am practicing my skills in writing short stories and theatrical scripts. I started writing almost the same time I started my love for reading. I’ve written a lot since then, some works I am proud of, some I believe I need to work on, and some that are still left unfinished. I usually write to tell the stories of my experiences and of my advocacies.

 

I am a very passionate advocate for Mental Health Awareness. I am actually the Secretary for Internal Affairs in Youth for Mental Health Coalition, Inc. To be transparent, I have been diagnosed with a Mental Illness. Going through finding out about my condition was a big obstacle for me. This is so because I wasn’t even aware that Mental Health was part of health. This is why I am an advocate for Mental Health Awareness. I do not want people to go through the difficulty of accepting and understanding the fact that there is such a thing as Mental Health. Besides Mental Health, I also advocate for SOGIE Equality (equal rights for the LGBT++ community).

 

As I said earlier, every person has a story. This is just a part of mine, one in a million stories that I can share. I know that I will not be writing my story on your website, but I would like to write my story through someone else’s. I believe When In Manila is full of people who express their story through the articles they write on their site. This is something When In Manila and I have in common. We both write our stories through other’s stories. And we would both want to share it to the world not for profit, but because it is what writers do. This is why I think I am a good fit to work for When In Manila.

My Love, The Moon

If I get a child, I would teach them how to love the moon,

As the moon loves her children

As the moon loves her guardians, the stars

If I get a child, I would teach them how to shine as the moon does,

Not as bright as the Sun but as important.

Not as dim as the stars but just as special.

If I get a child, I would teach them how to be a selenophile

Loving the moon with all their heart,

Loving the moon as I love Her.

 

If my child would ever have a rough day,

Because the kids at school are being bullies,

Or because the teachers were too unforgiving,

Or because the sun was just beating down on them too much,

I would tell them to wait until the night has come.

I would tell them not to wish on a falling star but rather the moon.

Wish to the moon all your love, and share it with her.

For as she reflects the sun’s ray,

She will reflect you love’s waves

And project upon the world that is too cruel to go unnoticed.

 

If my child would think of themselves alone,

I would tell them to wait until night has come.

I would tell them to once again look up at the moon,

For someone out there is reflecting their love upon her,

And when you feel the love radiating from her,

My child, you will never feel alone.

 

If my child were to get married one day,

And she decides to have her love pronounced by the moon.

I would tell her to go ahead, have your wedding at night.

For the moon, will walk her down the aisle with me,

Her shine will be intoxicating,

Her glow astounding,

As she was and always will be

 

If my child were to see me on my death bed,

I would want to her to know that she, the moon, is here with me.

Ready to make me a star.

And that she would never fret,

For the moon will always guide her way through the darkest of nights,

As she has always for me

Fool’s Errand

Loyalty, Love, Equality.

All of these I fight for.

And all of these makes me a think I’m doing a Fool’s Errand.

For these three are the epitome of foolishness once made into action.

Loyalty. Once done, Ten times stabbed in the back.

Love. Once done, Blood shed.

Equality. The one thing that will never be achieved.

Yet I fight for all of these to be not a Fool’s Errand anymore.

As to why,

Ask my heart.

 

(This might be edited later)

Dick Move

Writing poetry is a dick move.

It decorates its stanzas with heaven’s perfume.

It uses flowery words to hide the author’s pain when all they need is to let it out

Sure the author is letting it out in a discrete way but he or she needs to let it out in its truest and most raw form.

But I ask myself why I still put make up on my words

My lips stop moving.

I am all talk but no action here.

Because in truth. I use these flowered words to cower behind.

Because we authors are cowards

We rather decorate our world with mystery and fantasy rather than face our fears in its raw form.

Oh, you went through a break up? Say it like this:

“I was the glass mirror she shattered with her fist”

You have a mental illness? Say it like this:

“These are not demons. These are sirens. Calling out to me to find them.”

You are in love? Say it like this:

“Cupid must have shot his arrow through my heart once more today.”

 

This is how we hide.

This is the truth behind poetry.

Poetry is the only way authors can hide without really hiding.

And this is why it is a sort of drug.

Some sort of heavenly outlet

It must be heavenly because it’s better than suicide.

…Right?

 

So we will not stop.

Because this is the only way we know how to bring up our feelings.

This is the only way we know how to relate to people like you.

Our audience.

 

Poetry is a haven for dicks like me.

Poetry protects me,

Gives me sanity.

And I am sure,

If you try it

It will give you sanity too.

 

Love

You would think that Love would make you happy all the time.

Love would shower you with faith, trust and pixie dust and help you fly up

Up

Up into the sky.

You would think Love is all fun and games.

You would think Love is someone so totally expected when in truth…

Love is not.

Love is not expected at all.

Love is not that person with a charming aura and fancy cars.

Love is that person with a not so prominent aura there at the backseat of your car on a road trip with friends and friends’ friends.

Love is not fun, it could be. But not all the time.

Love is a game of truth or dare.

Because you always have to say the truth to Love and make yourself a dare for Love

Love is not tinkerbell.

Nor is Love Peter Pan.

Love is the Stars; you don’t see them but you know they are there.

You trust them not to fall on you.

And stardust, as we all know, doesn’t make you fly.

 

However, Love is real.

And reality is better than Neverland

In Neverland, nothing grows.

Not the people, Not the Trees, Not the Mountains, Not the sea.

In reality, everything grows.

The trees, The ocean, The People,

Even Love itself, grows.

Love grows more and more in love with you each day.

 

Yes, Love makes mistakes,

Yes, Love is unstable,

Yes, You may be hurt by Love and You will hurt Love back.

But.

Love wont leave. Love won’t give up.

And You won’t give up too.

 

Love is worth it.

Make sure Love knows that.

Because sometimes Love forgets its meaning.

So it is our job to make sure Love knows.

Love knows that it is worth it.

Love is worth anything.

Worth going to jail,

Worth sneaking around,

Worth all the pain

Worth all the waiting

Love is worth it.

 

 

 

To My Best Friend in High School

I understand why you had to go.
We were toxic to one another already.
We couldnt stand each other,
We were just breaking each other.
But what i dont understand is why you thought i was drama.
Why am i drama?
Because i am a burden?
Do you know how many times a day im reminded by how much of a burden i am?
The sirens of my mind have already done that.
But you.
You tried to silence them once before.
Telling me im not a burden, that i never will be.
Then when you said you didnt need drama in your life so we called it quits is just pure bullshit.
Tell me.
What made you change your mind?
My neediness?
My sensitivity?
My clinginess?
My absolute longing for someone to reassure me that there are still good things in the world?
My constant deppressive and anxiety attacks?
Tell me.
Is it the latter?
Because i will not fucking say sorry for having attacks.
I will not say sorry for what i have and what i have to deal with.
I will not say sorry for my demons and how much they inconvienced you.

You never loved me.
Im sure of that now.
You never loved me.
Never.
Dont you dare say that you did.
Because you’ll be bulshitting yourself and me.
Not that you care about me.

Dont use the “i changed” card too.
Fuck you i changed and i still love you.
Yes. Until now.
Until now even if i am cursing you.
I still love you.
And you left me broken.
While you go frolick with the friends you used to tell me were plastic.
“I remember that it hurt. Looking at her hurt”
Never did i even think that this line from my favorite movie would be about you.