Reel Life

I sometimes think that watching movies has ruined me. There are mornings when I wake up and I expect the birds to rouse me from sleep, sing with me and prepare my clothes for the morning. But they don't, they continue about their business singing in bird language that I can't understand, leaving droppings on my window sill. (Cinderella never had that problem.) Then as our cook gives me breakfast, I wait for my two sunny-side up eggs and a bacon turn up into a smile. Instead I get some bread. Some sausages. And some milk.

As I drive to school and get lost in my musing and reflections, I wait for the rain to fall gently on the car window and for droplets of water to weave their patterns down the glass. But I end up forgetting them as I am constantly aware of the jeepneys that might swipe the side of the car. In school, as I sit on my desk looking at my students' foreheads furrowed in concentration at a particular activity, I half-expect one of them to break into a song and the rest of the class to perform a well-choreographed dance complete with costume changes that end in a spontaneous parade into the hall. But then one of them breaks out into a yawn. In the middle of a particularly inspiring lecture, I have to hold myself to keep from blurting out, "Are you not entertained?" and wait for the resounding reply of my coliseum/classroom: "Oh captain, my captain!" That's when the bell usually rings.

If I'm wearing a particularly lovely outfit, I wait for the background music to swell to a crescendo and for the wind to blow gently in my face. I look around for the guy who will come up to me to say any of the following : a) I complete him; b) he's just a guy asking a girl; c) I'm the woman of his dreams. But, there's nary a breeze in a mall and never any avowals of eternal love.

If there are heated discussions between two people, I wait for the customary second-rate-copycat-spiel which has to end in the water-to-the-face-routine. Sadly, there is only unbearable silence after and a tension so tangible not even a chainsaw could dent.

The first time I rode the subway, I was surprised to find that there was no thug/mafia/vampire being chased by a cop/agent/werewolf. In fact, the highlight of that ride was a man who carried one of those plastic suit-protectors that had the logo of the Beauty and the Beast broadway show. That was the closest I ever got to a broadway star and he probably only played a plate. Or a fork. I was surprised too, when I looked at phone numbers of my relatives in the States. None of them began with 555. I suppose 555 is the area code for everyone who lives in movieland.

I guess in this un-hollywooded life, I cannot skip the boring moments and fast forward to mtv montages of the more exciting parts. There are the little things to get through, the crossing of the street and the bathroom breaks, and the buttoning of the shirts. But life outside the celluloid has its moments. At least, I don't have to look over my shoulder all the time for a stalker and I am never afraid that a cough is always the portent of an incurable life-threatening disease. And in a brownout, I am certain that no evil monster-alien is out to suck my brains. In real life, I can feel the wrinkles on my grandmother's hands, smell my dad's perfume, listen to every word of a great conversation (instead of the just the witty one liners) and love someone longer than two hours. I can laugh and cry and just hang out and not be afraid that someone is waiting for me to provide anything other than my presence. My days flow in and out, some of them boring, some of them productive, some of them depressing, and some uplifting. But all of them mine. All of them unrehearsed. All of them unique. All of them real.