I just finished Devout by David Archuleta, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
What struck me most isn’t just his story as an artist, but his story as a person trying to survive in a space where he felt he had to choose between faith, family, and identity. Growing up in a deeply religious environment, with so much control over his life and career, he learned early on how to silence parts of himself just to be accepted.
And that’s something many gay people know too well.
For a lot of us, the struggle isn’t just about coming out—it’s about unlearning years of fear, shame, and the belief that who we are is somehow “wrong.” It’s about sitting in that quiet tension of wanting to belong while feeling like you never fully do. That kind of internal conflict can be exhausting and deeply isolating.
David’s journey of breaking free—from control, from expectations, and from the version of himself others tried to shape—is incredibly powerful. Choosing authenticity often comes with loss, but it also creates space for something we don’t talk about enough: peace.
I related to this more than I expected. Having spent years in the closet myself, I understand that weight—the constant editing of who you are just to feel safe.
This book is raw, honest, and ultimately hopeful. It reminds me that living truthfully is not just brave—it’s necessary.
One thing I noticed when I first came to the United States is how casually people use the phrases “How are you?” and “I really appreciate it.” They’re everywhere—so common that they’ve almost lost their meaning.
When someone first asked me, “How are you?” I took the question seriously. I would pause for a moment and reflect on how I was actually feeling. Then I would answer honestly. And when I asked the same question back, I expected the other person to do the same.
But most of the time, the response was automatic: “I’m good!” And just like that, the conversation moved on. No reflection. No real answer. Just a reflex.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that here, “How are you?” often isn’t a question at all—it’s just a greeting.
That’s what puzzles me. How are you is not the same as hello. It’s a question. It asks about someone’s well-being, their state of mind, their life at that moment. Yet people say it without expecting an answer and respond to it without actually giving one.
The same thing happens with “I really appreciate it.” People say it after the smallest transactions—after receiving change from a cashier, after an Uber ride, after a quick favor on the phone. It has become a polite punctuation mark at the end of an interaction. But sometimes it feels less like gratitude and more like habit.
And it makes me wonder: do we still mean what we say? Or are we just repeating phrases because that’s what everyone else does?
In my culture, “How are you?” is a real question. When we ask it, we genuinely want to know how someone is doing. And when we say “I really appreciate it,” we mean it with intention, not as a default response.
Language should connect people, not just fill silence.
So maybe the next time we ask someone “How are you?” we should be ready to actually listen. And when we say “I really appreciate it,” we should make sure we truly do.
Because words lose their value the moment we stop meaning them.
I haven’t written in a while. Not because I had nothing to say, but because I had too much.
Yesterday began as a lazy Saturday. Coffee. Quiet. The slow comfort of routine. Then I opened the news and felt that familiar jolt — the kind that turns an ordinary morning into something charged and restless. As a five-year subscriber to the Los Angeles Times since moving to Los Angeles, I’ve made a habit of starting my day with headlines. But this time, the headlines refused to let me go.
Reports of escalating conflict involving Israel, the United States, and Iran pulled me in. What began as casual reading became an all-day immersion: live updates, analysis, commentary, history lessons on Iran’s supreme leaders, deep dives into decades of tension between Washington and Tehran. I watched, read, and rewatched. By Sunday morning, instead of preparing for church or opening my Bible, I was still glued to the steady climb of confirmed casualties — civilians, children among them.
War has a way of rearranging priorities, even from thousands of miles away.
So what is my take?
I am a Filipino living in the United States. I am not a policymaker. I am not a military strategist. I am not in any room where decisions of consequence are made. Realistically, there is little I can do to halt a conflict unfolding across oceans. Prayer may feel small to some, but for many of us, it is the only sincere offering we have.
Beyond that, there is something else we can do — something immediate and entirely within our control: we can be sensitive to one another.
In times of war, something curious happens. Overnight, we all become experts. We speak with certainty that rivals seasoned analysts. We debate as though we have negotiated treaties or studied geopolitics for decades. In a democracy, yes, we have the right to speak. But having a voice does not make us authorities. And volume does not equal truth.
Social media rewards outrage. Conversations become contests. Emotions overpower evidence. We talk to win, not to understand. We declare positions as if they are doctrine. And in doing so, we forget that behind every headline are people who are grieving — families who do not have the luxury of abstract debate.
I would rather read a carefully researched column than argue in circles. I would rather listen than perform certainty. There is humility in admitting we do not fully understand the complexity of war. There is wisdom in recognizing that strong feelings are not the same as informed conclusions.
I am against war — not because it is politically fashionable to say so, but because war guarantees suffering. It ensures that civilians, especially children, will pay for decisions they never made. It drags peace-loving people into nightmares they did not choose. It forces ordinary individuals — people like me — to watch in horror, grateful only that the bombs are not falling in our own neighborhoods.
That gratitude is uncomfortable. It comes with the realization that safety, for many of us, is an accident of geography.
We cannot all be diplomats. We cannot all be activists. Not everyone is called to the streets in protest. But every one of us participates in conversations — at work, at dinner tables, online. And in those spaces, our words matter.
Be mindful. Be careful. Be compassionate.
When casualties are rising and parents are burying children, the least we can do is speak with restraint. In an age where outrage travels faster than facts, sensitivity is not weakness. It is decency.
If we cannot stop the war, let us at least refuse to add to the noise.
2025 has been a year I don’t even have the right word to describe. Fires tore through various parts of LA at the start of the year, but I’m grateful that downtown remained untouched. Then came Donald Trump being sworn in as president, sweeping new tariffs under the administration, and ICE raids across Los Angeles and other cities in California. A new American pope was elected—and that’s only scratching the surface. So much happened, all at once.
I don’t want to get too political here. I simply want to take a moment to reflect on some of the significant events that shaped my life this year.
Let me start with my health. After years of neglect—even though I was deeply into health and fitness before, and even became a fitness instructor—I’ve finally taken full charge of my well-being. Beyond committing to the gym, I’ve become much more intentional about what I eat. I’ve been starting my mornings with green smoothies for over a year now, and I’ve added juicing to my routine as well. What truly stands out in my health and fitness journey, though, is that I’m now able to run 5K to 10K races. This is incredibly meaningful to me, especially considering that I’ve been dealing with plantar fasciitis. Now I’m saying goodbye to the pain and running my way toward a healthier life.
I finally got a new car—my sixth in a lifetime. What makes this one special is the journey behind it. For someone who came to the U.S. with almost nothing, being able to own a car feels like a real achievement. Before this, I spent so much money renting cars. Eventually, I bought a secondhand sedan and drove it for nearly three years. This year, I upgraded to a brand-new SUV. It’s not a luxury—it’s a necessity, especially in Los Angeles, where car culture is real. Getting from point A to point B without owning a car is nearly impossible. For me, this isn’t about status; it’s about progress and stability.
I watched my second Mariah Carey concert in Vegas, and it was incredibly special to me. As a longtime Mariah fan—a proud Lamb—the concert centered around my favorite album of all time, The Emancipation of Mimi. I know every song on that album by heart; I can even tell you which track comes next before it starts. Experiencing it live felt like a full-circle moment. 🦋
And speaking of music, I also had the chance to watch three Broadway shows—Hamilton, Les Misérables, and Moulin Rouge. These were major productions, and I felt incredibly fortunate to experience them at the iconic Pantages Theatre in Hollywood. I also attended orchestral concerts at the stunning Walt Disney Concert Hall. After experiencing all of this, I know I want to watch even more Broadway and orchestra performances next year.
My two nieces came to visit me, and what made it especially meaningful was that they traveled all on their own—enduring a 14–15 hour flight from the Philippines. That alone was a reminder that they’ve truly grown up… and that I’m not getting any younger either.In time, they’ll make their own choices and navigate life on their own terms, but I’ll always be their supportive uncle, cheering them on from wherever I am. I’m already looking forward to seeing more of my family next year, as they’re planning a visit to the U.S. in the third quarter of 2026.
And last—but certainly not least—I’ve started reading the Bible again. I was once a Catholic seminarian, studying theology and philosophy, and at one point I probably thought that experience made me better than others. Somewhere along the way, though, I stopped reading the Bible altogether.
Returning to it now is a very personal decision. I’ve set a goal to read the entire Bible before the end of 2026. If I can commit to reading all kinds of books, why not this one as well? I truly believe it holds countless lessons—about life, faith, humanity, and history. There’s a reason it remains the best-selling book of all time. I plan to come back to this blog a year from now and reflect on what has changed in me after reading the Bible from cover to cover.
When I look back on my life in 2025, it was actually quite simple. I don’t have major achievements to boast about to the world. I’m neither a celebrity nor a political figure—I’m just someone navigating life on my own terms.
I’ve even chosen to narrow down my circle on social media. Not because the people I no longer follow are “nonsense,” but because I want less noise. Life is already complicated, and I don’t want to add unnecessary distractions. A smaller circle brings more clarity and peace.
Much of my life still revolves around work, but I’m learning not to let it overwhelm me. Life is too short to be consumed by stress, and I’m doing my best to find balance where I can.
As we close the chapter on 2025, may we leave behind its worries and challenges and step into 2026 with positivity, purpose, and renewed energy.
The book BLACK AF HISTORY The unwhitewashed history of America by Michael Harriot has taught me so much about American history from a different and eye-opening perspective. I’m not American. I wasn’t born and raised here, which is why I’ve been making an effort to truly understand the history of the country I live in. I don’t want to be here and know nothing about how this place came to be.
Below is what I’ve learned about Thanksgiving.
🌽 What Actually Happened at the First Thanksgiving (1621)
1. It wasn’t called “Thanksgiving”
The Pilgrims in Plymouth never called the 1621 gathering “Thanksgiving.”
A Thanksgiving back then was a religious day of prayer and fasting, not feasting.
The 1621 event was more like a harvest celebration.
🦃 2. It was a 3-day feast
The event lasted three days, sometime between late September and early November of 1621.
It was held after the Pilgrims’ first successful harvest in the New World.
🤝 3. About 90 Wampanoag people attended
The Wampanoag were not “invited” in the way we think today.
The settlers fired guns and cannons to celebrate their harvest. The noise alerted the nearby Wampanoag. About 90 Wampanoag men, led by Ousamequin (Massasoit), showed up—partly out of diplomacy, partly to investigate, and partly because they had a peace treaty with the settlers.
Despite the tense circumstances, they ended up sharing food and participating.
🍁 4. The foods were nothing like today
There was no turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, or cranberry sauce.
Foods likely included:
Venison (deer)—provided by the Wampanoag Wild fowl (possibly duck or goose) Cornmeal porridge Eel and seafood Pumpkin and squash Nuts, beans, wild onions
Potatoes and sugar were not available.
⚔️ 5. The Wampanoag had already been devastated
Before meeting the Pilgrims, the Wampanoag had suffered a deadly epidemic (likely leptospirosis) from 1616–1619 that killed up to ⅔ of their population.
This weakened them and made forming an alliance with the English a strategic necessity against rival tribes.
🤫 6. Peace didn’t last long
Although the 1621 feast was peaceful:
Tensions grew in the following decades. Land disputes, colonial expansion, and cultural conflict eventually led to King Philip’s War (1675)—one of the deadliest conflicts in American history. Many Native people were killed, enslaved, or displaced.
So the idyllic “cooperation” story taught in schools leaves out the long-term consequences.
🌟 So what’s the real truth?
The first Thanksgiving was:
A harvest celebration, Shared between two very different groups, During a short moment of cooperation, That was followed by decades of conflict and tragedy for Native people.
It wasn’t the perfect, friendly dinner often portrayed—but it was a real moment of coexistence in a much more complicated and painful history.
I’m not a movie critic, but—just like you—I can tell when a film resonates with me. And Wicked resonated deeply.
So why do I love Wicked?
Part 1 made me fall in love with Elphaba. Cynthia Erivo is incredible. I actually didn’t realize she could sing; I first saw her in Harriet, where she was phenomenal. In Wicked, though, she completely broke me—in the best way. I cried so much during the scene where Elphaba is finally accepted, not just by Glinda, but by everyone at the school dance. It made me think of my own life—growing up gay, afraid of being mocked or isolated. You learn to act tough just to survive. You pretend the cruelty doesn’t bother you, even when it does. And still, you keep going. It’s hard, but you keep living.
The movie also reflects how society—especially those with power—shapes the way people perceive others. When you’re powerless, you’re often forced to shrink, to take up as little space as possible, to accept that your worth won’t be recognized. And under that kind of pressure, you can lose sight of who you really are. Sometimes, even if you’re a good person, society pushes you into the role it expects: the outsider, the villain, the “wicked” one.
Because I loved the movie so much, I immediately bought the Elphaba Barbie, the book, and the digital version the moment it was released on Prime—just so I could watch it over and over again. Honestly, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen it.
We waited an entire year for Part 2, and yesterday, November 21, I finally watched it—Wicked: For Good. Like with most sequels, I knew it wouldn’t replicate the magic of Part 1, so I refused to compare them. I saw Part 2 as the redemption of Elphaba’s character and the sealing of her bond with Glinda. And as I’m writing this, I still tear up thinking about the scene where they face each other from opposite sides of a door, saying “I love you.” It reminded me of my best friend Jill. There’s something powerful about a friendship where, even without being related by blood, you feel connected like family. For me, that moment was the highlight of the whole movie.
I’ve seen people online saying they didn’t like Part 2—that it didn’t live up to the first, or that they expected Elphaba to show off more powers, like some kind of mutant. And I’m just sitting here thinking, “Hello? That’s not what Wicked is about.” It’s pretty clear some of them haven’t seen the musical—or any musical at all.
Elphaba wanted to be seen for who she really was — a good person, someone worthy of love and acceptance. Glinda, on the other hand, was already a star in her own right. She longed to feel important and to actually help others. At first, I didn’t really like her — she seemed like a rich girl used to getting everything she wanted. But Part 2 changed that for me. It deepened her character, made me understand her more, and I ended up loving her. That’s why I finally bought a Glinda Barbie — now she and Elphaba are inseparable in my collection.
And, of course, all the other characters are magnificent too — the Wizard, Madame Morrible, Fiyero, Nessarose, Boq … everyone brings something special. I’m actually re-watching the movie because my experience last night was ruined by a noisy couple sitting next to me. I want to really feel it again.
If you want to watch Wicked, I’d suggest going in without expecting flashy magical battles or superpowers. The movie is more about human experience — how we navigate life, how we form deep connections, how we crave to be seen, accepted, and loved… and how someone can change for good.
So, today is my 45th birthday, and it’s my fifth time celebrating it here in Los Angeles. To be honest, I’m not always excited about birthdays—they bring up a lot of emotion for me. I’m so used to celebrating with my sister, whose birthday is just a day after mine. I always think of my mom making us spaghetti, with ice cream, cake, and all the other foods that made the day special.
So this year, I’m choosing to keep my birthday simple, private, special, and stress-free. I’m taking my time today, and in my own way, I’m celebrating it the best I can.
Nov 13 – 9PM: I started things off the night before my birthday by watching one of my favorite movies—Wicked—with my favorite character, the Elphaba Barbie, by my side. It’s such a feel-good movie, filled with amazing songs and incredible singers. There’s so much about Elphaba’s character that resonates with me, and I honestly can’t wait to watch Wicked: Part 2.
Nov 14 — 8:30 AM: I woke up around this time. I didn’t go to work—because why not? It’s my birthday. As much as I wanted to sleep in, I had to get up because I was already hungry, and my body clock is so used to waking up early in the morning.
Usually, I make a green smoothie for breakfast—but not today! It’s my special day, so I made a proper Filipino breakfast: rice, fried eggs, and longganisa. Food has a way of grounding me and making me feel at home again. LA is home now, but where you come from is a different kind of home.
There’s a storm today and in the coming days, so it felt extra cozy eating my Filipino breakfast, sipping coffee, and watching the rain through the window.
10:00 AM:Wicked still isn’t over. Today, it turned into a full-on Wicked sing-along. LOL. I was belting my heart out to the songs, and honestly, I didn’t care if my neighbors heard me.
11:30 PM: By this time, the rain had slowed down bit. As much as I wanted to just become lazy and stay at home I decided to go to the gym.
I planned to sweat on my birthday, and not even a full-on storm can stop me. I’m going to the gym regardless. It’s my birthday—nature can try, but it’s not raining on my parade.
1:30 PM: As a Barbie collector, I’ve been wanting to visit the Mattel headquarters in El Segundo. I heard they have a small store there, and I figured I might find some bargain Barbies. So off I went.
Well, they definitely had plenty of Barbies—and other brands too. But honestly, I was a little disappointed. Their selection of Signature Barbies, you know, the collector’s edition ones, was pretty limited. It’s funny because it’s actually easier to find them online than at Mattel’s own store. Still, I was glad I went—it satisfied my curiosity.
3:30 PM: While waiting to head to Hollywood to watch Moulin Rouge! The Musical, I decided to make some beet juice. I’ve been drinking it for months now, and it’s become part of my routine. I’ll definitely write another blog entry soon about the benefits of juicing and green smoothies.
5:00 PM: Off I drove to Hollywood. I braved the storm and the night driving (my night vision is really bad), and one thing immediately stood out: the streetlights along Crenshaw Blvd all the way to Hollywood were practically nonexistent. I didn’t take the freeway, and I rarely drive in that area since I live in the south of LA now—but wow, it was wild. No streetlights at all! Honestly, LA, if you want people to get into accidents, this is exactly how to make it happen. Turning off streetlights during a heavy downpour? Unreal.
8:00 PM:Moulin Rouge! was my third musical of the year—I’d already seen Hamilton and Les Misérables, both huge Broadway productions. With Moulin Rouge!, though, I just wasn’t feeling it. The production quality was outstanding, and the singers were absolutely amazing, but something just didn’t click for me. I found myself getting bored halfway through. Still, since this was my birthday treat to myself—and I’d braved the weather and night driving to get there—I sat through the full 2+ hour performance and really tried to enjoy it. But honestly? I still didn’t.
So there you have it—this was how I spent my birthday. It wasn’t really a celebration; it was more of a much-needed me time. For once, I didn’t think about work, bills, or the future. I just allowed myself to enjoy the day, completely pressure-free. I’m officially 45, and after everything I’ve been through, I’m still here, “dancing through life,” as the song from Wicked says. I’m looking forward to more birthdays, more growth, and many productive years ahead—God willing.
Last night, I joined the 2025 West Hollywood Halloween Parade — my first time ever participating in something like that! I’d never really done anything like it before, especially dressing up for Halloween. Growing up in the Philippines, Halloween wasn’t really a big deal—well, at least not back in my day. Of course, Filipinos love to pick up Western traditions, so I guess it’s becoming more popular there now. But when I was growing up, our version of “Halloween” was visiting cemeteries, cleaning tombs, spending a couple of days praying, and catching up with family and friends. Anyway, back to West Hollywood — last night, I went all out and dressed up as KAREN!
I really wanted to stay in character the whole night, but I realized if I did, I’d probably miss out on all the fun. Plus, let’s be honest—I was a little scared people might actually hate me for acting like a real Karen! 😂 To be honest, I kind of hated my costume halfway through the night anyway. Everywhere I looked, there were people in jaw-dropping, creative outfits—movie characters, pop icons, spooky creatures, you name it. The whole street felt like a living, breathing runway of imagination. The party itself was massive! The crowd stretched for blocks, and they said there were nearly half a million people out there. It was chaotic, colorful, and absolutely unforgettable.
By around 10 p.m., I started to feel the exhaustion kicking in. The street party was scheduled to wrap up by 11 because of noise complaints, but of course, the bars in WeHo kept the celebration going until around 2 a.m. I honestly had no intention of staying out that late. Don’t get me wrong—I really enjoyed the festivities, the people-watching, and all the wild creativity—but deep down, I knew this kind of massive crowd just wasn’t my scene. I didn’t feel completely comfortable being surrounded by that many people; part of me couldn’t shake off the uneasiness. Still, I’m glad I went—it was something worth experiencing at least once. In fact, I think I enjoyed chatting with my partner’s friends more than being out in the middle of the chaos! It gave me a different kind of fun, more relaxed and genuine. I told myself I probably wouldn’t do this again… but then again, never say never. Maybe if I come up with a really good costume next year, I’ll find myself back out there, ready to give it another shot. 🎭
I started running this year — well, technically, I began easing into it back in November 2024. I started with slow jogs on the treadmill, just 5 minutes at a time. Little by little, I worked my way up to 10 minutes, then 20, until eventually I was able to run a full 30 minutes without stopping.
To stay motivated, I began signing up for virtual runs. By accident, I ended up registering for six of them — but I completed each one successfully. After that, I felt ready for something more. That’s when I decided to try an in-person race. So in February 2025, I signed up for my first 5K at Griffith Park.
Griffith Park – February 2025Griffith Park – February 2025Griffith Park – February 2025
This race was really meaningful to me. It was my first official 5K, and I was genuinely proud of myself. Not too long ago, even walking for five minutes was painful because of my plantar fasciitis — so being able to run an entire race felt like a big personal victory.
I went alone that morning. The race started around 7am, and I didn’t have anyone there cheering me on. My friends were probably still asleep — it was a Saturday, after all — and I didn’t expect anyone to rearrange their day just to watch me run. It was just me, showing up for myself. And honestly, that made it even more special.
After that race, I knew I wanted to keep going. I started signing up for more events — the LA 5K in March, the Venice Beach Half Marathon & 5K in May (I did the 5K), and the Santa Monica 10K in September. I had also registered for the Thrive Half Marathon in San Diego on November 1, but I decided to hold off on that one for now. I wasn’t quite ready yet, and I wanted to honor where my body is at instead of pushing myself too soon.
LA 5K – March 2025LA 5K – March 2025Venice Beach Half Marathon & 5K – May 2025Venice Beach Half Marathon & 5K – May 2025Santa Monica Classic 10K – September 2025Santa Monica Classic 10K – September 2025
A lot of people assume running is an easy sport. And in some ways, it is — you just put one foot in front of the other. But if you’re training for races like a 5K, a half marathon, or even a full marathon, there’s a lot more to it. You have to prepare, be consistent, and take care of your body. It’s definitely not as effortless as it looks.
It can also get surprisingly expensive if you want to avoid injuries. One of the biggest things is investing in good shoes. I didn’t realize how important that was until I found myself with 5 pairs — each for a different purpose. I’ve always been loyal to Nike, so I have one pair for casual walks, another pair for daily training, one for trail runs, and my Vomero 18s for race day. They’re not elite shoes or anything, but they’re really comfortable for me, and that matters.
Comfortable running clothes are also really important. I haven’t splurged on high-end gear like Lululemon or Nike Elite yet — I don’t think expensive clothing automatically makes you run faster. For now, I stick to Spyder and a few generic brands, which work just fine. That said, I’m thinking of treating myself to some Lululemon gear soon.
Nutrition is also a big part of my running routine. For breakfast, I usually have green smoothies, and I also make beet juice and ginger shots. I always have salad. On top of that, I include protein drinks to help with recovery and keep my energy up.
The most important lesson I’ve learned from running is to enjoy it. I don’t want to force myself or pretend to be an elite athlete, posting photos on Instagram or Facebook to show the world what I’m doing. This journey is very personal to me — not long ago, I could barely manage long walks, and now I’m running 5K and 10K races.
I may not be as young or as strong as I once was, but at 45, I feel proud of what I’ve accomplished — especially compared to many of my peers. That said, I still have to be careful and listen to my body. If something feels off, I don’t push it. For me, running should always remain fun, personal, and noncompetitive.
Last night, I went out to see Les Misérables at the Pantages Theatre in Hollywood. It was my second time watching a musical at that magnificent venue, and it never fails to impress. The show started at 8 PM, but I arrived two hours early so I could take a stroll along Hollywood Boulevard.
The Pantages is located right on the world-famous Walk of Fame, so there’s always plenty to take in—tourists bustling about, food vendors, souvenir shops, bars, and all kinds of quirky stores. With time to kill, I grabbed an overpriced burger from Shake Shack (because, why not?).
Afterward, I made a quick stop at Amoeba Music, just to soak in that nostalgic atmosphere. There’s something timeless about flipping through CD racks—it takes me back to the days when music wasn’t just streamed, but held in your hands. Don’t get me wrong—I still buy CDs and tapes even now, and I have a reliable player for these almost-forgotten gems.
Photo: LA TimesPhoto: VarietyPhoto: californiathroughmylens.com
After leaving Amoeba, I decided to head into the Pantages Theatre. I still had about 45 minutes before the show started, but figured it was better to go in early—mainly because walking along the Walk of Fame felt like it could get me high. The smell of weed was everywhere, thick in the air. Honestly, just breathing in all that secondhand smoke felt like it could alter your state of mind.
Besides, I’ve always loved taking in the theater’s stunning interior. It’s like stepping into another era. I couldn’t help but imagine what it must’ve been like back in the day, when people dressed to the nines for a night at the theater—surrounded by all that grandeur and old Hollywood opulence.
Of course, I’d been listening to the Les Misérables soundtrack nonstop for the past two weeks. That’s something I always do before seeing a musical. Personally, I find it hard to catch all the lyrics when they’re being sung live. So, getting familiar with the songs ahead of time really helps me follow the story and fully appreciate the performance.
Okay, I’m not about to write a full review of the musical—that’s a bit too much work. But overall, Les Misérables is absolutely a must-watch. One character, in particular, really struck me and moved me to tears: Éponine. I was literally crying the entire time during her death scene. Her story, her voice, her longing—it just hit me hard.
Of course, the actress who played Éponine was incredible—but what really got to me was the character herself. Éponine is the third wheel in the love story between Cosette and Marius. She’s madly in love with Marius, her friend, but keeps it all to herself. Her love is quiet, unreciprocated, and unwavering. She even follows him into battle, just to be near him. And in the end, she confesses her love as she dies in his arms.
Les Misérables is filled with injustice, and one of the most painful ones is about love. I cried because I’ve been there—more than once. Falling in love with a friend, holding it in, or worse, having them know but still only seeing you as “just a friend”—it’s a kind of heartbreak that cuts deep. Éponine’s story hit far too close to home.
So that’s how I spent my Saturday night, October 18—and I have to say, it was time well spent. Next month, on November 14, I’ll be treating myself to Moulin Rouge as a birthday gift. Can’t wait!
Angelino AF (Asian Flavor) 