Ms. Robinson

So, two days till Mraz.



Normally, I wouldn't dare consider a sentence fragment as my opening line but this is how Jason makes me feel: if I were to talk to him one-on-one, face-to-face, I wouldn't know how to act. Would I faint? Would I die? Would I be calm and dignified, impressing upon him how professional I am as a journalist, then proceed to lose it in the bathroom afterwards? The possibilities are endless.

When Mraz came here two years ago, in January 2004, he changed my life. Forced to go to his concert when I was feeling at my lowest, suddenly everything made sense while I watched him perform. His music made me see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The positivity of his songs helped me understand that life is gorgeous, no matter what, and that there is always reason to hope. It was, in the language of fiction, a turning-point.

If things go according to plan, I'll be able to attend his presscon on the 21st. Joey Dizon of PULP has promised me an exclusive with him, but I have not heard from him, so I'll assume that didn't fall through (oh my bleeding broken heart). It will be enough for me to be with him in the same room, and watch him perform (twice).

Last night in the Church of the Gesu, after work, God told me, while I was meditating: You force things too much. Just let everything fall into place. You will be fine. Just do what you need to do. Have faith.

Later, as I was walking around campus, right in front of the Gonzaga chapel, I bumped into Isabel Kenny. A documentary filmmaker based in Hong Kong and Los Angeles, she was one of the three muses I was with in Vigan over the Christmas break. We'd made plans to do a telenovela/movie about my grandmother's hometown. But I didn't hear from them after I returned to Manila, so I assumed that the project had been shelved. I was wrong: yesterday, Isabel told me that this was pushing through, and that I was definitely on board with them as a writer (and whatever else I wanted to be). To write the script, I will take her three-month scriptwriting workshop, from February to April, together with Reni Singer and Carla Pacis. We would finish the script there, she said, so that we'd have set deadlines and a proper working schedule.

If that isn't serendipity, I don't know what is. Everything does work out, as long as one believes that they will. Faith, child. Faith.

To end this, here is an entry from Jason Mraz' journal (September 2004):

Life continues to be gorgeous.

And even though the sun is setting and my view of other skyscrapers and hotels is blocking that scene, I’m quite pleased with the still life of my imagination. Everything is always on schedule and the minutes never cease to blow my mind. The other day I had one of those, “I can’t believe it’s (January)” moments and looked blindly back across the months before this one. So much has happened. As much as not much has happened. You take what you want from it, whether you hurried to get here or not. We are where we are and it’s gorgeous no matter what. No matter the state of our nation. No matter the destruction caused by extreme weather conditions. No matter the smell of our laundry. You have to admit. Life is gorgeous.