DOOR #23
DOOR #23
Nostalgia is the best word to describe it.
My tremendous feeling of homesickness to the life and “home” I once had before in Naga. When things were not as complicated as now.
Life was so surreal then.
Paying the bills and rent, maintaining a few cash for everyday stomach supply and toning our voices down inside the door #23 were the only predicaments we had to take hold of. Studying was never a priority then, having fun was. It totally spelled out the laid out meaning of “college life” at its crucial peak. Rules were bound to be disputed and savings meant to be wasted. We were queens of the world. OUR world.
Being the trouble-seeker, daredevil, trying-to-be-dependent headache I was before, the whole setting was kickass! Imagine I had to live with a gay, co-lunatic soul sistah for a whole year without any laws to abide and norms to conform to, inside our own little fortress. Nobody’s a dictator. We could eat anywhere we would like to pig out at. School was just a meeting place for friends.
Door #23 was the haven every college student (coming from my species, that is) were looking for. Different kinds of personalities walked in and out of that place, each of them etching a special mark on our 4-cornered, neatly-walled sanctuary where utopia nearly existed. It was where dreams were sporadically molded, issues talked upon around a pitcher of gin-po, fights took place and wild parties were held at. It was where we planted our first college tears over mundane matters at hand, where heavy dramas were heard and where heartaches painfully experienced. Nobody would ever judge and take a snagging glance at you. Hypocrisy was a crime. It was the most ideal refuge for people searching for their individualities, seeking for answers on life and heart problems nobody would even try to hear outside our dome. And most of all, it was the most perfect place for molding friendship that nobody could ever forget until now.
We don’t want to be caught up in the whole apartment-experience for life has threw us a new setting that is much knotty and we’re meant to cope with whatever’s at present. But then, Door#23 is still a favorite word and topic we shed tears and laughter at.
And I am damn sure, it will forever stay that way.
THAT’S HOT
THAT’S HOT
By: Djai
As Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie would haughtily slur their favorite expression on their well known reality TV show…”That’s hoooot..” There’s no excuse of you not knowing Paris Hilton. It’s either you’re a hard to the core grade-grinder who reckons anything outside the book is uncool or you’re an unfortunate dame/lad cast off in a faraway village without any cable TV’s to pollute your mind. Or most likely, you’re a faculty member.
Paris Hilton, the most sought-after ramp model/product endorser/fashionista/party-goer of the season, would not care less for the dough she’s earning from her TV exposures (scandalous or not) for she’s been righteously bequeathed upon as the heiress of the entire HILTON empire for being the eldest in a brood of 3 spoiled rotten brats (that includes a chain of 5-star, super luxurious chains of hotels all throughout America, Europe and Asia). So that makes her as filthy, damn rich as Oprah ever since a fetus in Momma Hilton’s womb. Have you ever heard of anyone getting paid for thousands of dollars just for attending (much less, dropping by) a mere party? Sounds absurd alright but that’s how Paris’ been keepin’ it nowadays. It pays off to be famous you know. So without any struggles efforts , more money seem to be raining down at her doorstep like cats and dogs and whether she’s loving or hating it, at least her horde of onlookers are nevertheless appreciative.
Paris has this infectious love for fashion, beauty and style that fans could not find hard to imitate. She is infamous for her soft-flowing, knee-length dresses that are radiating with pastels of colors and flowers that often come along with multihued barrettes and diamond-studded frills. She is never greedy of her flesh that she sees to it especially during Hollywood gatherings, to strut wearing eye-catching, exuberant-colored gown (they’re more of a lingerie if you ask me) that shows off a lot of skin. And it’s like a necessity to make her belly ring as visible in sight as possible no matter how sophisticated or classy the attire is. With a simple flick of her tiny fingers as she waves to those drooling paparazzi, she made an expression of hers popular – “Tata!” A matching tilt of her head and sideway “pacute” wraps up her red carpet-projection.
You might have seen Atenean babes making a run while passing the well-secured front gate to avoid those guards who ban them from entering (ehem…Marj?) for wearing those low-waists, girly-girly flowing skirt (usually pink in color) that is way above the knee and can be mistakenly identified as a majorette’s under-uniform. Those are definitely so Paris Hilton’s hit trademark – “Tinkerbelle” skirts. Her love for diamonds, teeny-mini skirts, flower-scented perfumes and sky high heels never got away from the spectator’s eyes which are being apparently transmitted to majority of fashionistaz around the world. And her deep obsession for color PINK contagiously spread out like a virus as well that the next thing I knew, pink became the number one color of the season.
Her flair for own-styled garbs and superfluities were evidently revealed in “Simple Life,” a well-branded and top-rating reality show in NBC (adopted by ETC in local TV) starring
Paris and her best friend, Nicole Richie. It’s pretty hilarious watching them stride along those dusty roads during hot Texan Days in their Tinkerbelle skirts. Or riding a grubby buffalo in a thousand of dollars-worth spaghetti strap. One may think that the main purpose of their show is to endorse what’s inside the closet (and wallet, I must add) of the two well-off, bratty stars, for they never cease to showcase remarkable outfits and accessories despite the challenges they need to fulfill (which is, to experience the commoners’ lifestyle on some faraway American places). Amidst the dirt, extreme sunlight, ignorance of bystanders and conservative daily means of their foster homes in “Simple Life,” they remain well-groomed and feverishly in style. That is the trademark of Paris Hilton that was infectiously passed on and now dwells on her flock of admirers – Always be in style despite nasty circumstances because scruffiness ought to be punishable by law.
And I say, that’s HOT.
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By: Djai
(warning: this article is believed to be trivial…but NOT to me, honey!)
For the sentiment of all those Harry Potter fanatics out there, here’s one for all of you…
There is no point of arguing with me if I say that Harry Potter’s long been a goner without HIM at bay. How many times have I encountered in real life the blatant fact that when you put people to pedestals, they’re bound to fall off. And never did it occur to me that fictional novels, akin to Harry Potter, would even adopt the same…dilemma. Or is it just this side of me who still cannot accept the lucid reality that Dumbledore is indeed, dead (God save his soul…or does wizards have one?).
JK Rowling (the author of Harry Potter, hmp!) is such a bitch for ending Dumbledore’s role in her 7-volume book. In whatever attempt you put it, Dumbledore’s the real hero (do I see eyebrows raised?). Harry Potter ain’t Harry Potter without the silver-haired wizard as his mentor. Why does she have to make Snape kill him?! Just a flick of Severus’ stupid wand and all my bursting anticipation would be actually proven flounder. Nobody can deny that it’s a great relief and perspicuity we feel whenever Harry finds his way at Dumbledore’s feet. A gentle wave of his hand and simple nod or wink can iron out Harry’s turbid thoughts and youthful probing. Dumbledore owns the page that we turn back to whenever clarifications about a vague scene or dialogues were encountered. Nobody will recognize Harry Potter without Dumbledore!
So why the hell would Rowling ever came to the idea of killing our old hero?! And to make things worse, the trust he openhandedly preserved for Snape was otherwise proven a futile effort. A Not-so Dumbledore kinda death she bestowed the readers. Rowling made a hit alright but at Dumbledore’s cheap death expense and the least she should have done was to make a great prophecy out of it. But NO, she left the readers hanging with the thought of Dumbledore making his own deathbed because of trusting Snape utterly. He ought not to be finished as dumb and mistaken. Come to think of it, JK might just have made it up so to make readers anxious for the 7th book. Nice trick she got up her sleeves ei?
Harry shed tears for Dumbledore and why the hell can’t I? God, I miss him a lot(sniff).
Tip off: the writer of this article was believed to have gone mad almost after reading the newly-released HP Volume #6 (The Hallf-Blood Prince). And her sincere apology to those people who haven’t came across with the book for revealing the tragic ending of it already. Hehe. She couldn’t help it.
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