despite my emotionally-driven entry "because a blog is not a blog without some drama or emotional conflict, or so they say" (i need to come up with shorter titles next time!), i am not--as many people might think--going through anything dramatic. i'm fine, thanks. actually, i'm more than fine. hmmm. hahaha.

so don't go running after HIM with your pitchforks. :)

anyway, i was watching the video clips we had filmed for our Literature 102 project, and one of the videos got me cracking up in laughter. no matter how many times i watched it, the scene had me rolling on the floor, laughing.

with a little bit of tweaking and another fit of laughter, i bring you "CAKE: A Love Story."

I shall now put myself under Witness Protection Program. I have a feeling Jake and Claire will be hunting me down after they see this. Especially Jake (Mr. Happy Gay).

Uh oh.

One of my dear professors said in a recent discussion that PEOPLE cannot write about HAPPINESS. Rather, they write about sadness, loneliness, conflicting emotions. So...since I write about happy things (or if I am referring to my ever emo seatmate Jake, the "happy gay" moments), does that mean I am NOT a PEOPLE?!

Oh my.

Anyway, a new sort of entry for a change.

--

Someone’s gotta give. Always.

See, that’s the thing about two people—siblings, friends, lovers. Someone always has to give in. Despite how “in tune” you are with each other; despite how “compatible” you may be; despite how you “finish each other’s sentences”—you never really have the same one choice. There is always a clash of interests between the two of you—whether it is evident in your relationship or not, that depends on you.

Lucky you if you’re the one being given into—the Receiver. You get your way, you’re happy. Too happy, even, that you end up forgetting about everything else. Sometimes, you even forget to say , “Next time, it’s your turn.” Or just a simple, “Thanks.” But hey, you’re happy. And that makes the other one happy, too—at least for a little while.

Take note: for a little while.

Because that happiness on your other half’s part is but a fleeting feeling—it lasts for less than a day. It lasts, sadly, for only a moment. If, at the height of your elation, you remember your “Giver,” take the time to look at him or her. You will see Giver smiling, telling you, “I’m happy for you.” But look deeper into Giver’s eyes, and you’ll see—just at the corner, almost hidden by those thick, long lashes—a trace of the melancholy. Giver, usually, turns to look away. By this time, the tears are threatening to fall.

This is what happens to Giver. He or she swallows hard. It is not only air that Giver gulps down—there is also pain and sadness, and it flows through Giver's throat with a torturous, burning feeling. The anguish eats Giver up. Giver cannot breathe; Giver trembles. Giver keeps his or her hands to the sides and tries to remain calm, to still his or her heart. Giver blinks once, twice—as many times as he or she can—so that the tears don’t fall. Giver bites his or her tongue and watches your little victory dance with pursed lips—Giver is afraid of saying something to you, something offensive and hurtful, something that would take your bliss away. Giver would not want that, no. Giver wants you to be happy, even at the expense of his or her happiness.

Here then, we see, that there is a thin line between charity—or what people oftentimes call love—and stupidity. In the case of Receiver and Giver, there has to be a point where enough is enough. Giver cannot just give and give. Receiver cannot just take and take. The roles have to be reversed as often as possible. Because that is what makes two people work. When you give, you’re charitable. You’re loving and caring. But when you give too much, you’re stupid. Yes, you are. Because you always have to leave something for yourself. You have to.

Lest you want to live unhappily.

Lest you want to die unhappily.

Lest you want to spend eternity unhappily.

That’s the sad reality of what they call love, of what they call a relationship: Someone’s gotta give.

Always.

And someone ends up alone and crying.

Always.