That Something (August 21,2007)

NOTE: Some of the paragraphs were not published on the August 21,2007 issue.

That Something
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

My eyes widened as my left foot led my right one of the yellow tracks of the escalator. It was such a sight to see, more rigidly interesting than a championship match in one of those NBA games my father use to go nuts for. The shopping haven of SM City hadn’t been so jam-packed of people since a novelty icon or some matinee idol paid a visit. But that day was an exemption, and thus my premonition blurted out to be quite reliable. When I say jam-packed I mean it to the highest extent, in grammar we use to call it as the superlative degree. Swarms of college freshmen, including myself, flooded most of the upper floor corridors, all for the very same reason. Nope, we’re not there to sit on Santa Claus’s lap and tell him what we want for Christmas (it’s not even December, yet). It’s a all for one and hardly one for all scenario, packs of my kind were there because of a simple reason, that is, to watch a movie. The flick entitled “Paraiso” (starred by Maricel Soriano, Cesar Montano, Michael V.) was shockingly a required activity for most of the universities here in Iloilo City. Now before anyone gets the wrong idea of me making a movie review, I’m not. I already did that for my Filipino project, and trust me it was quite more taxing than doing hundreds of essays in one seating.

What I had experienced that day was not a matter of popcorn buckets or the piles of tissues soaking with tears. Throughout the endless wait of lining up, the wide vicinity of the cinema’s corridors was but a convention or to the least extent a gathering of colors and variations. Every kind of teenage personality you would ever possibly imagine was but a part of this orchestra of differences. Those descriptions I read on psychology magazines about the different types of teenagers were popping out of those glossy pages and existing in the real world. There were the fashionitas, those dudes and dudettes who seem to be always blooming and getting everything within the “it” of the cool category. There were the laid-backers, with their composed and frail looks, endlessly unaware of the past nor tomorrow; all that matters to them is enjoying the present. There were the brianiacs, who still in spite of the sea of crowd continues to glue the eyes over their textbooks or mutter about equations of their last chemistry exams. Then, there were my kind, those who feel so naked within a multitude, who looks down on the flooring almost always, seeming to be counting all the tile blocks the whole shopping mall has. It’s nobly funny to think how a simple charity-oriented movie brought together such a variety of people.

The heavens had answered our prayers; the chariot of luck brought me and my classmate, Marinel inside the cinema house, fortunate among the many, who still waited in line outside to be accommodated. Agreeing to sit near the path to the restrooms, you know the reasons: the cold aura, the possible funny jerks, a filled bottle of water in my hand, and not to mention, my body not able to perspire so well. The entire place was bombarded with a rock concert of different voices, all telling distinct stories. My boyfriend cheated on me. I got a perfect 1.0 in our Algebra midterms. I got sour cream popcorn instead of barbeque. Those kinds of stories. For that moment, it became some sort of a nuisance. I pampered myself by enjoying the nerve wrecking and spine tingling game of Snakes on Marinel’s phone while the films still weren’t rolling. Sadly I never got a score higher than ten. It was harsh, The Snake game.


But you know something made me grinned that day, right there, on that very cinema. Although all of us must be some pack of jelly beans of different colors packed in one box, something in such box made us so yummy to taste. As the movie progressed, I couldn’t’ help but noticed at every particular scene in which everyone would react. I sensed that when everybody laughed, I couldn’t seem to tell which laugh came from which voice. When everybody awes I couldn’t anymore distinguish as to which tone came from which person. Alas, the variety of individualities came to a blend during a common sight, a common emotion, a common experience. I looked back towards the entire crowd, as the dim atmosphere of the cinema seem to blind my some call it perfect 20-20 vision, I realized something striking. Those fashionistas I saw earlier, those laidbackers, those braniacs and of course my kind, were all but the same silhouettes sitting in unison, seeming to be of one particular type.

It is a heartwarming experience, to see how a world of differences come to a point of commonality. Right there and then, I knew that men aren’t indeed that unalike. They may vary in the hipping of clothes; some might be more expensive or branded than others or even carry their attires like supermodels, but still every one of them still worn something. They may vary in their perceptions in life, some always blame the past for their fate, others may be afraid of the future, but still every one of them still perceived something. They may vary in the grades or degrees they acquire, some might be top of their class, others might be just passing, but still every one of them still acquired something. This something brings people together, that abstract thought of us being connected in a bond of our being human sets different pitches or timbres to a monotonous but melodic harmony.

That little experience I had told me a simple conclusion. In order to achieve the particular goal of man for unity and equality, he has to concretize and develop that something. He already has it, all it needs is some magic and fairy dust. So the next time I would feel I seem to be totally off or aloof from others, I would then be urge to think otherwise. The next time I would feel insecure of someone being on top of the pyramid than me, I would then be lured to think the opposite. All because of that something that connects us all. Connecting the cool from the uncool, the braniacs from the average, the laidbackers from the worry-freaks, the “me” to them.

What’s that something? I would like to find out.

(Many thanks to AJ, and other readers who sent in their comments, these are highly appreciated.)

(For comments and reactions please send an email to reylangarcia@yahoo.com or an SMS to 09186363090)