Brutality of the Goddess

a few days ago when the freakish weather took a toll on me right after our political science 51 report, i felt fugly.  days after that, i still felt fugly.  do you know what fugly is?  i first heard of that word in the lindsay lohan flick, mean girls, and i never truly knew what that word meant until after monday of last week.

fugly is actually a contraction of f****ng ugly.  it’s more than just feeling ugly, alright.  it’s feeling, yeah, you got that right:  F****ng Ugly.  and i hated that feeling.  i was burning with fever and i was struggling to breathe.  i didn’t want to get out of the house because my lips were chapped and i could virtually see my collar bones sticking out of my body. 

i was too lazy to get properly dressed so, whenever i had to get my butt out of the house, i was left with no choice but to grab a tshirt done with poor taste, ull up a pair of ill-fitting pants and hastily comb my hair.  i’d get out of the house without putting on lipgloss, never mind if i look as deathly as morticia adams (you know who she is, right?).

what can i say?  I was feeling FUGLY.  and it really sucked.  FUGLY.  uggh….i even hate that word.  it’s like having to wake up on the wrong wrong side of the bed, waking up to realize that you don’t have any money in your pocket, waking up to realize that you still have so many things to do, that the online game won’t download pronto, that you’re not inspired to write a story or a decent essay, FUGLY is when you suddenly realize that the person you’ve been eyeing for months is not only gay but has a boyfriend as well.  FUGY is when you find someone else only to find out that although he’s not gay with a boyfriend, but that he has a witch of a girlfriend.  FUGLY.  that’s really FUGLY.  it’s fugly when you go to school and realize that there’s no class since sembreak started days ago.

FUGLY.  eww…

i was shocked, actually, that my final examination in filipino 13 was something i could very well consider a piece of cake.  honestly.  during the past week when i spent most of my waking hours just trying to grasp the answer to the question ‘anu-ano ang mga kasanayan sa pakikipagtalastasan na kailangan nating linangin?’ i found myself at a loss.

i must have read that book more than a hundred times and yet everytime i shut it to take a cat nap, i found myself unable to recall whatever i had read about in the first place–that, i considered tragic.  but the Lord God always manages to come up with little surprises, and yes, i guess he was merciful enough to have allowed our teacher to come up with an elementary-easy test.

but more than that, i guess i’m just so glad that the first semester is officially done and over with.  finally, i can catch up on a lot of good movies that i’ve missed because of the mountains of schoolwork that i had to surmount.  finally, i can drown myself in the pages of novels that i’ve borrowed from my friends, some of them being the da vinci code, inkheart, memoirs of a geisha, and the roman mysteries.

my friends and i share a common view on the first semester: tiring, boring, all messed up.  i believe i’ve heard this line a gazillion times now–we’ll do better in the next semester–only to find out that the promise of oneself has been broken yet again.

the first semester storm did hit me and it left me with a mountains of debris to clean up.  when i browsed through my notes, i found that my notes on the composition of the legislative government were all hastily scribbled in my filipino 13 filler.  when i searched for the family tree of terah, i found it in my political science filler.

be it as it may, i’m so glad that i made it through one of the stormiest seasons in school–literally, and figuratively.

in a few more days, the first semester of my sophomore year will come to close and i thank the lord dearly for that.  I can’t quite find the right words to capture the essence of the first semester.  but suffice to say that this sem has been a weird brew of being boring, problematic, thrilling, exhausting, and uplifting.  so many things have been happening–things that have jolted me out of my comfort zones and have forced me to ditch the pacifiers and face the world.  that, i used to think really sucks.

but then i’m proud to say that i’ve learned so many things from the experiences i’ve gained.  i’ve learned that there are certain circumstances that bring out the best and the worst in people.  i’ve learned that when you’re in the position to make decisions that could make or break you, you could never please everyone.  all you’ve got to do is to hang on and do what you believe is right.  i’ve learned that there are people–friends–who really think that you’re worth the world; they, in turn, are worth more than the universe.  i’ve also learned that cooking pancit canton for two minutes in the microwave oven can yeild disastrous albeit appalling results.

this semester has also allowed me to experience things that i’ve only heard from the tales that my classmates and blockmates relish to tell: sleeping in the classroom.  i don’t know why, but it seems as if the sandman has been hanging around in most of my classes lately–most especially in my religion class where i get hit by his sandstorm.  for the first few minutes of our teacher’s discussion, everything seems to be a-okay.  i’m still up and about, eager, or trying to be eager, to listen to my teacher’s discussion on why the israelites had to get the ark of the covenant from shiloh to their military base somewhere close by.  after say, fifteen minutes, that’s when the sandstorm starts to blow in my direction, wiping all interest, all eagerness, all zeal away from me.  it seemed as if a couple of elephants were dangling by my eyelids, trying to pull them down and shut out everything.  for a moment, i begin seeing things in doubles and my head starts to float.  the teacher’s words become indistinguishable drones while my spirit yearns to take the first ride to dreamland, nevermind Joshua and the israelites.

first sem has also crystallized the belief that cooking will never love me.  i was asked to cook rice but, as what i would wish to say in the dialect, kung dili man murag lugaw, dukot pud!  next, i was asked to cook pancit canton for my brother.  the result was horrible.  not only were the noodles overheated in the microwave, they came out like long, curly little caterpillars submerged in boiling water.  when my father asked me to fix him some coffee, God, you should have seen his face.  turns out i put too much coffee in the cup making the concoction more bitter than a steaming cup of panama and black rose combined.  that, i swore to myself would have to be my last attempt into the culinary arts.

i’m hoping this semester would end really, really soon.  i can’t stand it anymore and i do wish to start anew.  it’s true that you can’t always expect to get the best things in life.  it’s true that you’ll have to make do with what life gives you.  Life gave me buko, crushed ice, kaong, nata de coco, condensed milk, corn, ube, leche flan, and sugar to i made a huge cup of halo-halo.

in an era where blunt practicality has caused the stagnation of the arts and sciences, in an era where men have started to evolve into the opposit sex, where Adam and Eve have succumbed to the forces of Adam and Steve; in an era where students have fallen into the quagmires of apathy, where school spirit has become nothing more but a sprite, where men and women would die in the name of freedom, love, equality, and peace, i’ve lost a bet that i’ve made–sealed and signed–with a friend.

now, i owe her a caramel frappe–all 65 pesos of it–from Cafe Antonio.  I can’t believe it.  I thought my evidence was strong enough to stand.  but then, like a true renaissance lady born in the postmodern period, i will have to concede–bitterly, in fact–that i have fairly lost against someone whose research skills have exceeded mine.

To my 130 pesos, i bid you a fond farewell.  May you find a new home in the cashier’s box.

To my friend, this event will leave an indelible mark in my being, i assure you.  However, all is not lost for i still have the remainder of the deal to keep.  ‘Tis your time to prepare your payment.  I can see the crisp, bluish bill already and goodness knows what i could buy with that.  Hehehe…

i know it’s far from valentine’s day but for some reason, a friend of mine had this sudden inclination to talk about the most overused word and the most misunderstood one at that: love.

i was minding my own business and reading the latest issue of Time Magazine.  after all the hullaballoo during the founders’ week celebration and all the childishness that went with it, i was relieved to be back to my old self: all alone under the shade of the acacia tree, sitting back and reading all about Shinzo Abe, the next big thing in Japan.  just as i was about to turn the page to read an article done on the Afghan prime minister, Hamid Karzai, this friend of mine emerged from out of nowhere, gushing about her latest romantic encounter and how she was absolutely swept off her feet because finally, the man she liked had given her a proposal she simply could not refuse.

‘oh, that’s nice,’ i said with a smile, clueless really, as to how i would react.  ‘ but don’t you think it’s too early for that?  we’re still in school and you, my dear, are in a very demanding course.  are you sure you have the time for that?’

she stared back at me for a few moments, apparently taken aback at my reaction.

‘ you know what, you don’t know how to have fun.  you don’t know how to live for the moment.  what if he’s actually my soulmate?  this is the perfect chance.  it may never come again,’ she said in defense.

soulmate or not, i was critical about the whole arrangement.  i knew the guy had a reputation that was as battered as both lebanon and afghanistan combined.  he was a slacker, a goofball, and he always had this inclination to break the rules whenever he could.  when he told a girl that he’d be with her forever, his definition of ‘forever’ seemed to last for only a couple of days.  i didn’t want this guy for my friend but she seriously wanted him no matter what.

i’m sorry to say this but unlike the eagles’ song, love alone will not keep us alive.  love can’t buy clothes, can’t pay for water, electricity, restaurant, or credit card bills.  love can’t buy you a car or send your children to school.  love can’t get you a round trip ticket from Egypt to Costa Rica.  love can’t upgrade your computer or get you a master’s degree.  tell me point blank, when you’re hungry, do you eat love for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even merienda?  i don’t think so.

today, practicality rules over everything else–most especially that we have an economy that’s near ruins.  we need to make the right choices–ones that will guarantee us survival for the next fifty years or so.  people today can’t simply live for the moment, although fun is integral and we can have that once in a while, but realistically speaking, we also need to set our priorities and make sacrifices.

how many families today have gone hungry because of making hasty decisions?  i’ve seen several brilliant young minds who, instead of accepting greater job opportunities or undergoing the most daring endeavors have settled for less than the better things in life.  some have refused the enter doors that were especially opened for them in favor of some very short-term things.  many of them, it is sad to say, have slowly been regretting the choices that they have made.

love is important because it can drive us to do things and attempt to transcend the boundaries of expectation.  however, it can wait and it can be suppressed for all the right reasons.

dalawang araw nalang bago ako magla-labinwalong taong gulang.  di na ata ako makakapaghintay dahil sa wakas, magsisimula na naman ako ng bagong kapitulo ng buhay ako.  ito’y magiging isang pagkakataong maiwasto ko ang lahat ng pagkakamaling nagawa ko mula sa pagsagot ko ng Beijing bilang punong lungsod ng Albania noong ako’y nasa unang baitan pa hanggang sa sakit na naidulot ko sa aking mga kaibigan noong hindi ko sila pinakopya ng sagot ko sa aming pasulit sa Spanish12. hehe…

bago ang lahat, gusto ko lang ipaalam sa aking mga kagiliw-giliw na tagapagbasa na isa lang ang dahilan kung bakit nagsusulat ako ngayon ng isang sanaysay gamit ang kinakalbaryo kong wikang filipino: ipinangako ko kasi sa isang matalik na kaibigang nagngangalang metmet na susulat ako ng isang piyesa sa filipino.

kaya heto na met, para sa iyo ‘to.  magugustuhan mo man o hindi, gusto ko lang sabihin sa iyo na wala akong katabing makapal at maalikabok na diskyunaryo sa filipino.  ako lang at ang aking kawawang computer ang magkasama sa isang sulok ng aming bahay.  ako lang at ang computer.  wala nang iba.  kung andito ka ngayon sa tabi ko, ang maririnig mo lang ay ang tagoktok ng keyboard habang ako’y nag-e-encode sa karumaldumal na sanaysay na ito.

alam naman talaga ng lahat maliban kay Gng. Yape na hindi talaga ako magaling mag-filipino.  alam ko, kakahiya talaga sapagkat ito pa naman ang ating pambansang wika.  ibig sabihin, hindi ito wikang banyaga tulad ng ingles, kastila, o kaya’y aleman.  ngunit gustuhin ko man o hindi, di ko talaga mapapantayan si Balagtas tuwing sinusubukan kong magsalita o sumulat man sa filipino.  marami ata ang nagtataka kung bakit ako pa ang nagkakaroon ng pinakamataas na marka sa aming klase sa filipino.  siguro akong sa gabi-gabi kong pagdarasal, tinulungan talaga ako ng Diyos at ng lahat ng mga santo at anghel sa langit sa paghaharap sa isa sa mga pinaka-ayaw kong mga asignatura sa buong buhay ko.

pero hindi lang isang asignatura ang nagpapahirap sa buhay ko dito sa kolehiyo.  merong isang tao na itago nalang natin sa pangalang Bangkay dahil parang ganun naman talaga siya, e.  di ko talaga siya nakitang nakangiti.  kahit tawa man lang, di ko naririnig mula sa kanya.  kahit sabihin man niya na ‘enjoy and have fun,’ naku!  daig pa ang isang taong araw-araw ay namatayan ng kamag-anak.  para siyang nalulung sa pagluluksa at sa pmatinding pighati. kung ngingiti man ako sa kanya, tititigan lang niya ako.  kung meron akong sasabihin, tiyak na may sasabihin din siya laban dun. parang ang tanging layunin niya ay mapatunayan sa lahat na kahit anong gawin ko, mali talaga ako.

meron ding isang nilalang na tanging ang misyon sa buhay ay pahihirapan lang ako.  wala naman ata akong ginawang masama sa kanya, heto naman ang mokong, palaging pinasasakit yung ulo ko.  akala niya kung sino siya.  sana pagtutuunan niya ng pansin ang mga mas-importanteng bagay tulad ng paano siya makapagtapos ng pag-aaral.  kaya lang, masgugustuhin pa niyang guguluhin ang mundo ko.  haaay…

at heto rin, term paper writing.  anak ng notecards!  paano na ‘to?  kailangan na talagang ipasa namin ang 1st draft sa pagsapit ng ika-22 ng setyembre.  nasa notecards pa lang ako.  hindi pa nga ako tapos sa pagbabasa ng ibang sources ko at heto na, ilang tulog nalang ipapasa ko na ang aking termpaper.  di ko ata ito nararanasan noong high school pa ako.  masyadong simple pa ang buhay noon.  di masyadong maraming komplikasyon.  di gaya ng kolehiyo na walang tulugan.

huwag nating kalimutan ang talumpati.  naku!  magtatalumpati na pala ako ngayong ika-25 ng setyembre.  kinakabahan na ako.  hindi ko pa naisasaulo ang aking napakaikling piyesa na kayhirap talagang isasaulo.  paano na ‘to?

pero wala talagang makakatalo sa major ko na kinakailangan naming pumasa ng walong balita bago sumapit and oktubre.  haaay nako……saan ba ako puwedeng pumulot ng mga balita na wala naman talagang masyadong nagaganap sa loob ng silliman.  siguro may babayaran nalang akong tumalon mula sa pinakamataas na tuktok ng a/s para magkakaroon ako ng balitang maipasa ko sa aking guro.

dalawang araw nalang bago ako maglalabinwalo.  pitong araw nalang bago kailangan kong ipasa ang aking personality profile.  siyam na araw bago ko kailangang ipasa ang aking first draft sa term paper at labindalawang araw nalang bago ako magtatalumpati sa harap ng aking mga kaklase sa fil13.

sana nga magkakaroon ng isang milagro…;p

I can’t help but notice how some people just want to kill other people.  I mean, what happened to the Black Eyed Peas’ song ‘Where’s the Love?’  All of a sudden, some people are starting to emulate the infamous Palparan by thinking of outrageous ways of making the friendly neighborhood classmate happy in the afterlife.

To the people who have been there with me through good times and bad, you have my UNDYING gratitude–undying that is, if my friendly neighborhood assasin will not kill me faster than one can say ‘crab’!

However, since my troop master in the Girl Scouts taught me to always be prepared, i decided to come up with my Last Will and Testament, you know, just in case he/she-who-plots-evil will decide that the world’s too crowded for istaki doll.

Read carefully.  I might just leave you something.

I, Stacy Danika Sia Alcantara, sophomore student of the School of Communication, Speaker of the House of the Student Government Assembly, computer geek and super nerd, do make and declare my last will and testament as follows:

To my lovable parents of the cottage across Edith Carson Hall, I give and devise all the lands I hold or have a right to, in the vast area of my backyard, all contained in cracked clay pots which my biological mother purchased from Daro.  Take the pots and everything contained therein, too.

To Ate Joey, the daughter of the dean (who is also in the hit list) and his wife (ditto), I give unto my torn and tattered textbook on the Philippine Constitution by Hector de Leon and everything inserted between the pages of such.  May you enjoy dozing off as you leaf through the pages of one of my most beloved, battered books in Political Science.

To Ate Babes, the youngest daughter of the dean and his wife, I gladly hand you down Trixie, my vicious mini-pincher, Shakespeare and Alfonso Quijana, my chinese turtles, and Lorraine my uncle’s reticulated python, now in my possession.  I request Ate Babes to take good care of my adorable animal friends–all of which i find more adorable and attractive behind safe, steel cages and wonderfully crafted containers.  in the event that any of my dumplings will die, please offer them a decent burial.

To my sister, Lycar Flores, I give and devise my bicycle, training wheels included, my roller skates and the knee and shoulder pads that go with it that these may facilitate her a more convenient and faster way of transporting herself from the SG office to the gym and back again. 

All my lip glosses namely : my Penshoppe Lip Sheers in the shade of Ballerina Pink, Penshoppe LIp Glitter in the shade of Honey, Body Shop Born Lippy in the shade of strawberry, Nivea Lip Balm, NIvea Pink Care gloss and Shine, and Maybelline Water Shine, i give and devise to my good friend Bob Derick Young.  I also hand down to him the make-up kits in Sun dome and the Lancome eye shadow pallete that my auntie had bought me.

To Naddie May Orillana, my lovely dancer/singer friend, I give and devise all my trinkets, necklaces, bangles, and dangling earrings.  may they find a place in your jewelry box.

To Methuselah Ramos, another very good friend, I give and devise all my photographs from the day I was born to the last one which is in her possession, requesting also that she does not part with these nor sell these even if the circumstance must call for it.

To Jan Paulo Bastreche, our class treasurer and my fairy goth mother, I hand down P264.75 from my Kaban ng Cash to pay for all my remaining debts in the form of fines and unpaid dues.

All my bags, purses, totes, backpacks, numbering 67 all in all, i hand give and devise to my gap pals from high school namely Ranzel Ondangan, Karen Torres, Gia Lim, Rea Yap, and Karlyle Siao.  Divide the bags equally among yourselves and take good care of them as I have.

All my pumps, flats, wedges, stilletoes, 46 pairs in all, some of which unused and unworn, I will leave to my biological mother with hopes that she will preserve every last pair and that she will not part with these under any circumstance.

I give to Ayesha Galanido all my manuscripts, books, and published works, including those that I have not finished writing as of the moment.  i also expressly desire that she will not have any of the books that i have written become published lest i shall haunt with such vengeance for pursuing something without my permission.

Lastly, to my friend, Bryce Tenorio, i hand down my cellular phone, all my musical CDs, my personal computer, and the fax machine where we engage in intelligent conversations over the most unintelligent things.

Should any of my heirs and devisees fail to survive the impending doom of the "mind-stitching, blood-spilling" monster with such "visioncast" for "stardome" and crew of assassins, whoever they may be, it it my expressed will to donate all my belongings to the survivors of his/hers/its version of ethnic cleansing.

In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and Seal this eleventh day of September, Anno Domini two thousand and six.

S. Alcantara

I sit beneath the moonlight, one peaceful eleven o’clock, a soft breeze brushing lightly past me, blades of grass prickling my nimble fingers.  i love moments like these: when you’re all by yourself in the middle of the vast lawn just between villareal hall and the portal west construction, soaked in your own thoughts, basked in blissful reverie. 

i loved the sky.  it was one of the most beautiful since the last time i really looked into it.  it was a deep, deep violet, flecked with stars and wearing a crescent moon pendant across its celestial chest.  peace.  paz.  i never thought i’d get a slice of it after all that’s been happening.  and i loved it.  it was the greatest reward i got after working my butt off and getting scores of scolding in return.

the past months had been very hard for me and i hated everyone–myself included for everything that had transpired.  i hated to world and the unvierse for conspiring against me and i hated myself for allowing these things to happen.  i hated the people for not understanding and i hated those who had deserted me when i needed them the most.

but that’s over and done with.  nothing, no matter what, no matter how hard i would try, could change what ever it was that sent my world topsy turvy. 

as i sat beside myself in deep contemplation, i shut my eyes really tight and wished as hard as i could that somehow someday, i could do better.  i always try my best to give out the best but sometimes, i fall short of myself.  and sometimes, i hate myself for that, for not doing my best and for hurting people who don’t deserve such a treatment in the first place.  i hate myself for letting a lot of people down, for breaking my promises, and for being really selfish with my ambitions.

sometimes, i hate myself for always acing my tests in school but failing in a handful of tests in the school of life.  i hate the times when i take my friends for granted, when i take the people who really matter to me for granted.  i hate it when i feel embarrassed to let people read what i’ve wrote, for being such a scaredy cat, and for being someone who has simply let allowed life to drift by over violin lessons and self-study spanish lessons.

i gazed at the stars unblinkingly and soaked in the blanket of peace that lay over me.  and then i wished, like a child would upon spotting a falling star, that that moment would be forever frozen in time.

it’s 12.30 in the morning.  i don’t usually stay up this late but i can’t seem to lull myself to sleep.  not when i have so many things to worry about.  not when there are still ten section of article 3 of the Philippine Consititution to cram into my battered mind.

two days later and fragments of what had happened during the talumpati ng taon still lie in waste in the bowels of my mind.  that was my first time to host in a language that i consider more foreign than english.  that was perhaps one of the few hosting experiences i’ll never forget partly because i had so little to say, partly because first times are always hard to forget.  to stand in front of a huge crowd with hundreds of pairs of eyes staring back at you amidst the incessant glare of the spotlight can be damning.  and i still feel damned.  and a bit embarrassed.  but it was fun to wear a filipiniana.  i should have asked my mom to get me a new one from kultura

four days ago, was one of the most interesting days of my life.  it seemed almost like an offshoot from a badly written cartoon.  i had a pile of things to accomplish for miss silliman and moutnains more for my bc25 class.  it was the day that i had been dreading since the time i took up the course.  it was the day that i had to pass my first set of requirements: 20 notecards stapled to photocopied sources.  i dropped by steds and grabbed a long-sized manila envelope, slipped it between my arm and my side and dashed off towards the arts and sciences building.  my room was four floors away and i was heavily burdened with two bags, a maong jacket, and an umbrella.  just as i stepped into the highest flor int he building, i noticed that one of my shoe laces was left untied.  settling my things down, i took my manila envelope and placed it hastily on top of the ledge before bending down to fix my shoes lace.  just as i got up, a gust of wind blew away my manila envelope.  it drifted off, away from my reach and onto the small outcropping close to where the pillar stood.  i took my umbrella and reached for the envelope, poking it towards me and hoping against hope that i’d be able to get my hands on the blasted thing.  alas, my efforts were useless and i was left without a choice but to push the envelope off the outcropping and pick it up downstairs.  the envelope drifted downwards.  i leaned over the ledge to see where it settle only to find out that it landed in the hands of some burly-haired passer-by who must have been in need of it for one of his classes.  i was broken hearted.  i had to dash back down and run towards steds to get another envelope.

that’s life, i guess.  quite unexpected, frustrating at times, strange, and interesting.  nothing beats playing the lead role in the stories that we weave.

it’s 12.45 and i’m still not sleepy.  maybe another round of  fine arts music would do the trick.  in the mean time, it’s back to article three, the bill of rights: one right i’d like to exercise at this very moment is the right to sleep.

this is a parody of anna’s top ten hotties.  i’m making my list because there is absolutely nothing better to do besides wait for my uncle to finish refilling our blasted printer.  these guys may not be your typical hunks.  they may not resemble brad pitt in any way, in any angle but, i assure you, they are hot. so here goes.  i advise you to respect my choice.  hehe…

10. sigmund freud

this guy is hot.  not only did he found the school of psychoanalysis, but a bunch of bc25 students also think he’s a great composer.  what could beat that?

9.juan luna

he whipped up spolarium with a brush and a few tubes of oil paint.  if there’s anyone who can best capture life on a canvass, it’s no other than this hot pinoy painter.  too bad he’s dead.

8. albert einstein

ah albert.  theory of relativity.  time space continuum.  who ever thought that this math dunce could come up with e=mc^2?

7. igor stravinsky

the mean man who can set the piano on fire.  now i wouldn’t mind sitting in the luce auditorium for hours if this guy’s on the keyboard.

6. king bhumibol adulyadej

he’s the man who settled that whole fiasco with thaksin shinawatra and brought back peace to thailand after a scandal that rocked one of asia’s most beautiful countries.  and yes, he even proved that even those who rule need to go to school.

5. francisco balagtas

no one can write better than kiko balagtas.  think drama.  think romance.  think adventure.  then you’ve got a great piece from no other than the master of the art himself.

4. pablo picasso

he shocked the art world with his abstract canvass confections.  he captured the unexplainable in full color.  one word for pablo picasso’s art: hermosisima!

3. isaac newton

if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t know that an object at rest would remain at rest until being acted upon by an external force.

2. anatoly karpov

if your type is someone who’s smart and sporty, you must’ve had anatoly karpov in mind.  he’s the king of chess out looking for a queen.

1. william shakespeare

he’s the best writer, poet, playwright of all time.  he swept women off their feet with mere words.  this is will shakespeare, the real romeo.