10 Things I Love About 10 Things I Hate About You

It was Heath Ledger, not exactly him but his strikingly-handsome Aussie accent, which made me watch 10 Things I Hate About You last week. But even before that last-minute decision, there's already a few signs lurking here and there, somewhere lowkey, across my consciousness, that was telling me to go and watch it. 

The first sign was probably when I was dead scrolling through Twitter. It was a weekend afternoon and I was set to slouch in and do something unproductive. This only means that I can switch from one application to another and just keep scrolling aimlessly until I could finally feel my eyes shedding tears on its corner. But that day I was not crying when I was stopped by this retweet of a follower of mine. There was no actually a comment above the post but just pictures of that scene in 10 things I Hate About You which have captions on it. But, no, it was not that caption particularly that has me convinced to at least be curious about it. It was the eyes of Heath Ledger, I don't know, but there was something in that eyes... and on that scene which I just had a glimpse at first on that retweeted post, I felt it was not just a lame and formulaic cliché film. However, despite the telling eyes of that guy, I was not able to watch it still. I was not yet in that right mood. 

So hours passed by without notice and I was already in my bed. I was lying there hopelessly and it was night already and I haven't decided yet on how I was going to spend the remaining hours until midnight. Friday is still the best day to sleep late without pressure because Saturday means one day before the Sunday which is the day before weekdays. Damn, I loathe Monday that much!

Anyways, since I finished being bored with Instagram, I decided then to surf through YouTube. I was welcomed with bunch of videos about random stuff which I just watched without clicking it actually. I just really consume it that way now, not bothered about having it no sounds. It was not really long after when I was stopped again by a thumbnail of a familiar video. Yes, it was Heath Ledger again behind a striking text in front that says "Patrick and Kat something". I could not remember the whole exact text. And since, it was already night and I was already in the mood to finally focus on something for a longer duration, I decided to stimulate my growing curiosity by clicking the video. There, I saw few clips, one of which, was that scene I saw from that retweeted post on my Twitter feed. I have liked the scene... and Heath Ledger's eyes. So then, the next thing happened, I was already enjoying the film from the start unto its last minutes. 

Admittedly, I was not a fan of any teen romance-comedy film. I could not even name any of which that is a no-brainer for everyone. I am not sure as well if ever I already watched one and if ever I do, I could not remember anything at all. Any film that falls under that category, I find them usually smarmy and half-baked in a deliberate sense. I am guilty also to admit that the story is lacking but conscious enough to push through its same old plots which are being traded around with other films of the same genre. I guess that could be the reason why I rejected that moment three or fours years ago when I already consumed the twenty-minute run of 10 things I Hate About You but then decided to quit because I thought I would not like the show. 

To set things straight and honest, I thought it was lame and cringey. To soften the blow, I was wrong for thinking that way all these years of not trying to watch it first. Perhaps, I have already watched such films of that genre, but those might have just passed by my memory the moment I finished watching it. But with 10 Things I Hate About You, I had a different experience. I could not deny that the story was predictable but since I was watching an old school movie and it was a romantic comedy, I understood that I should not expect it to be that philosophical or complex. However, I was taken aback sometimes with their dialogues. They sounded like they were reciting lines from Shakespeare's drama, which is partially true since I learned after that this film was drawn from the story of The Taming the Shrew which I have been hearing a lot on school when I was still studying but too lazy enough to read it. 

After giving it time to grow on me, I did not expect that I was already halfway watching it and was silently enjoying it already. This film might not be the best in terms of plot-wise but for some weird reason the scenes that I thought I would flinch at were actually the scenes that I mused on. I never thought, as I watching it, that I would buy its humor and sometimes clumsy sequence. To be honest, I did not only buy it once but twice and was inclined then to do it one more if only I did not come across an American comedy series which I am currently watching as of writing.

10 Things I Hate About You was a 1999 film, a year older than me. It felt weird watching movies older than me because one of the things I could think about is: I haven't born yet when it was released. And enjoying it despite the gap and whatever it entails with is very cool for me. Of course, I did not come to like it for no obvious reasons. This film might not be different to a myriad of rom-com films but it is an all-era appropriate. It can stand the test of time and can still be as effective to youngsters of each coming generation perhaps. 

The actors are all likeable. 

I like it that they did not make the character of Patrick overtly a bad boy. He is mischievous but not to a fault. It was great seeing such characters that are not forced to embody excessively what they are supposed to embody. With Patrick, he dresses up like a bad boy but he is not exactly rude and someone who beats up people for the sake of his image. I apologize right now if I will mention again his Aussie accent because I really have to, it's flawless!

Initially, it was Heath Ledger who invited me to watch this film. However, it was Julia Stiles who made me stay until the last minute. She has a conviction to her role and does justify the character she has to play. I like her snotty expression and even the way she delivers her sarcasm. She knows herself and is aware of her capabilities. But more than that, I even like her more on her progression towards the latter parts of the story. It was her, that moment when she was reciting her poem, that significantly hold the film more steady. She was the game changer and she was Kat Stratford. 

Can I say how cute was the young Gordon-Levitt? However, I could say he was kind of as characterless as his other half Oleynik. How I wish their characters were explored more especially Gordon-Levitt's because he is more than beyond his romantic pursuit to Bianca Stratford. While with Bianca, I wish she was explained as the girl who is dressed strategically in a summer dress and not only displayed like that. She is young and cute but whenever I try to recall her in the film, I see more of her wanting to be involved for the sake of normalcy as a teenager. I also want the idea that like Kat, audience will also be informed of her dreams and her inner struggles which were not showed sadly until the ending. 

Overall, I was really taken aback by how effective this film was for me. Since 10 Things I Hate About You is an old film, there are already films with the same cliched storytelling which I watched first before it and did not like. I felt those lack vital sparks which I have surprisingly seen in this film. There are scenes that I would have flinched and cringed at but it was bought because the characters were likeable to me. They had the energy that I like and despite that it was predictable it still worked on me. This is the kind of film that would not exhaust you to think of the impossibilities but would like to settle you in a fun and lively ride where you would just watch it comfortably.

This film is loveable. You don't have and can't think about 10 things to hate it. Instead, all I could think about is the 10 things I love about this film.

1. 

One of the first appearances in the film was her. She was looking in all seriousness at her screen and I thought she was a stern woman. And I was right, I just thought. 

2.

Look at that smile! This was the moment I was convinced that he...

3. 

When Patrick spotted Kat in the crowd-- dancing and feeling herself, I agreed with him when the music paused and everyone heard him realized that she was sexy.

4. 

I laughed here when Cameron and his friend told him the bad news that Kat Stratford was into pretty guys. The pause, his thinking, and his serious question to them, "Are you telling me I'm not a pretty guy?" that probably hurt his pride. 

5.

Uhm?

6. 

When Heath Ledger appeared on this scene with his hair tied, I was impressed by how pretty he was there.

7. 

I was surprised here. After Kat wildly danced her way on the table and everyone was bewildered, Cameron asked Patrick to chat for seconds. While still cautious to Kat who's then dizzy, Patrick talked to Cameron for the first time with a serious tone. It was I think the first time also he showed that glimpse of himself. 

8. 

I like this scene, also the ones prior to this very moment. He was silently tracing her way while there's music playing in the background. But in here, I like the exchanges of their mockery and sarcasm. Kat obviously won here. 

9.  

This is the game changer I was talking about. The feels!!! This scene was the first time I saw her cry and realized that she was hurt but then still sincerely inlove with Patrick. I love the poem!!!

10. 

That's on periodt, periodism, periodicity, periodically, periodic table. 

 

The War of Translation: Colonial Education, American English and Tagalog Slang in the Philippines

The War of Translation: Colonial Education, American English and Tagalog Slang in the Philippines by Vicente Rafael

A Once Written Report

Let's say, I have two friends; However, the years that I have known them separately varies in span of years. For example, this Friend Number One, has been my friend for three years already; Whereupon, this Friend Number Two is my "childhood" friend.

When we become friends to someone, in a way, we acquire the way they talk, their gestures, mannerism, even the way they look at things in perspective. So, basically, it is more natural to assume that between these two friends I have, I am much closer to Friend Number Two. From a stranger's perspective, they would possibly connect the fact that, since she is my childhood friend, I have a longer history of friendship with her compared to the former. That’s, most of the time, how it is: The longer you know the person, the bigger the chance for anyone to jump into conclusion that we are much closer. Thus, we have a stronger bond, and might have a bigger tendency to be alike. In conclusion, I am assumed to be much closer to the one whom I have a long history with.

BUT in the case of American and Spanish occupation here in the Philippines, it’s the opposite. We have been hearing it a lot as we were growing up. The Americans ruled our country for 41-year span of time. It was long, but not that much with the Spaniard's, whose occupation here lasted for 333 years. (And goodness, if it rather extended double its years, Judas must have been over the moon once the Spaniards are prepping already for their 666th day in the Philippines.) With these years of domination, no one could have actually thought that it was ironically the Americans who successfully invaded our country. Looking at their numbers, Spaniards won obviously, however, Filipinos might have some kind of allergy to any kind that reminds them of Mathematics, that's why, it was the American's fist that was seen balled up towards the air. With the analogy above, we could say, it's not always about the long years but also the effectivity of one's influence over something. And one easy example that was already mentioned is the America's long-standing domination--even up to now --particularly their "master stroke" of colonial education here in the Philippines. The article that I am using for this blogpost is Vicente Rafael’s The War of Translation: Colonial Education, American English and Tagalog Slang in the Philippines. 

Vicente Rafael is a professor of Southeast Asian history at the University of Washington, Seattle. He was trained in Southeast Asian History of which much of his writings were concentrated on the colonial and post-colonial state of the Philippines and the United States. Before I graduated in college, there was once a written report that we were asked to do for our final requirement on this subject. Initially, I wanted to simply talked about Pinoy slangs, however, there were few among us who already used the topic and I wanted to take a detour from that commonality. While browsing, and I remember that exhaustion I had that day, I finally came across this article which I could not recall where I saw it. It was long but I kept reading it hoping that at least I could just find ideas that could help me decide for my topic. In the article of The War of Translation: Colonial Education, American English and Tagalog Slang in the Philippines, I stumbled upon this word "Filipinization" from its subtopics. When I heard it, I searched it online immediately. 

Upon learning what Filipinization was, a recent memory from my freshman year popped out of my mind. It brought me back to that book entitled "Komunikasyon sa Wikang Filipino" which we had to purchase since our Filipino professor was one of the authors of that book. From our early exercises, I was caught off by this strange Filipino word that was not really not a Filipino word to begin with. They are actually English words, however, it is spelled in the way we, Filipinos, pronounce it.

Let me provide few examples:

"Computer" is the word, but in the book, it is spelled as Kompyuter;

"Science" as Sayans; "Picture" as Piktyur and etc. 

At first, it was strange reading it. I even questioned why the authors write those words that way as if those words don't have their respective equivalent Tagalog words. I am not sure about computer, but I know "science" is translated into "Agham" and "Picture" is "Larawan". So, what's the motive or intention of the book?

I even sneered at my professor for thinking that she was teaching us something weird and thus wrong. But then I also realized while I was doing this that they were not the one who invented that process of spelling out English words and this deliberation has a significant telling to us. And with the article I used, Mr. Rafael termed it as Filipinization of English.

According to the article itself, created as a counterinsurgent response to the Philippine-American War, colonial education seeks to train colonized subjects in a different sort of war and we might think of this as the war of translation.

The pursuit of this war aimed at the conquest and colonization of languages, both the vernaculars and English.  So the cycle started with the Thomasites who would train the Filipino teachers to speak English so they could pass it on to their students. Contrary to this cycle, only practically half percent of the population learned English and could also read and write using this language. The destruction that came caused by the wrath of war has changed many things which destroyed also the cycle that the Americans initially wanted to pursue.

Most of the native English teachers and non-native English teachers died during the war. Some of them lost their professions because they did not return to their classrooms when the war came to an end. Since the spoken language is learned through imitation by native speakers of the language, the lack of native speaker models has affected certain sounds as enunciated by English-speaking Filipinos today. Our English now is becoming vernacularized which we are now called the Filipinization of English. 

The very attempt to teach English simply in-flamed the resistance of native languages. Hearing the teacher's English, students followed. And doing so, they were misled, perhaps according to the sensitive ears of the Americans-- that instead of ending up on the road to phonetically correct American English, they were misdirecting to the "strange" and "unintelligible" zone of its Filipinized version. 

So, "Filipinized English" is like dressing English in the clothes of "Malay" sound pattern. They see the in foreign the recurrence of vernacular, not its demise. To translate in this case required not the suppression of the first (our language) for the second language (English language), but an alertness to the sound of the first retracing itself around the appearance of the second.  Thus, the mother language insinuated itself into the foreign one. 

I know that one important linguistic phenomenon in Filipino is the rule: Kung ano ang bigkas, siyang sulat. And I think it is a lot easier to write a word the exact way we pronounce it. I mean, no sweat at all. However, there are some exceptions that we have to consider. 

So, why the authors of that book I mentioned used “sayans”, “piktyur” and other Filipinized words if they can be translated in the first place.

After some deliberation. I came up with possible but not really strong reason behind their usage of Filipinization on English words.

Is it because of the so-called “resistance”? That despite, according to the article, in the hands and on the mouths of Filipino, English can be a language for accommodating, or at least, signaling the insistent presence of what is supposed to be excluded and overcome.

Is it because we are physically attuned and mentally habituated to our mother tongue's intonations, referents, and rhythm?

Conserving the foreignness of English also meant making room for the recurring traces of the vernacular.  For an example, there are some Filipinos who are great in English however they still struggling with pronunciations. Of course, people who was raised and grew up in an English-speaking household or abroad are excluded. The people I have in my mind are those whose English command is just introduced in an educational setting with minimal exposure from the language. You can notice how one can really be good in the nature of English but will struggle at first with the pronunciation of the words. Instead of speaking it like the Natives, even with years already of exposure, they pronounce it like how they do in their vernacular. It is like they are wearing an English clothing in a Filipinized material. (Am I making sense?)

If we see it on a deeper sense, perhaps this could be a silent revolt of the dominating English language. They could dress our language with theirs, but our nativeness will remain on itself and it will not be just changed because of some ornaments and foreign weavings of strangers' hands. Its essence remain as it is.

Or because Filipinos believe that there is never an end in creativity especially in the use and structure of language?

Or is it because we have a symptom of the dismal limits of colonial policy and evidence of the racial incapabilities? Which, I would definitely disagree with.

PS

To be honest, I was lucky to came across this kind of topic. It was unfortunate that I was not able to discuss this with my classmates in my best form (I think I had a fever that time but due to lack of reporters, I volunteered.) It was hard spouting your ideas in front of people while you were fighting off that dusty feeling in your throat. Anyways, it was already done.

This blogpost sounds unfinished and I admit it. I just don't know at this moment what I should write more, which ideas qualified enough to be inserted after that last paragraph. I could not think of any decent conclusion. Maybe, I just wanted this to sound like it is meant to be re-write or at least to expand more. But not today, I guess, I am feeling like that I should post this now so I don't have to screech my brain anymore.

In chaos, that's where...

He's on the stage

and they can feel the magic. 
His silhouette against the
frisky tight arc of lights
in the centre of his musical space
dimmed by the smoky-colored
of passionate breaths. 

A cacophony of defeaning sounds break off:
stereo living in their ears, 
the impassioned gusto of instrumentals
tolerating their temporary incapability,
the jarring voices of people,
the commotion of thoughts in their head 

(They've consistently been forcing back into some semblance of order)

But they have always been there-- (comfortably or maybe because they have already used with the feeling)
In chaos, that's where,
where the smell of sweats and collective urban gasps of depressed people are suspended in the air. 
The melody of his voice echoes their experiences:
the brokenness, 
confinement, 
and mental exhaustion. 
And when he touches the air and looks somewhere in between the depth of the void and the ocean of people's burden-filled eyes, 
they feel

escaped. 

He whispers his song;

they breathe their agony. 

This is the art of solitude.

They are lost in the crowd... not apart but individually. 
They defy the world.
They fixate somewhere in the space. 
Their hearts skip along with the pulsing beat of the stereo.

He bangs his head and they dance theirs spritely. 
He jumps higher, and their spirits lifted. 
The music reaches the deafening crescendo, and their lungs encumbered with euphoria. 
The lights blink, and their weightless eyes get blinded momentarily. 
That moment felt like in a thin line, they were in between emptiness and depth. 

As if they were living up two different worlds at the same time-- 

in the slap of reality and in the kicked-in of fantasy.

08|07|19

PS: One OK Rock, especially Taka, I am a fan. 

See you soon. 

The Hymn of Death: A Not-So Review

Whenever I get the feeling of watching something again, there's always a tinge of uncertainty that comes along the same moment. Like last month, I felt like I had been a bum for wandering up aimlessly on Netflix for almost some time. I was literally doing nothing but scrolling here and there on the platform and always ended up lost in the long run of searching. I was not exactly planning to consume another Korean drama series since I already did it with One Spring Night which I never intended but just so happened that it was followed not long after then by Once in a Summer. I actually considered the thought of exploring some other Asian films especially a Taiwanese film, however, I could not find any among the bunch that could match my mood well at that time of drought. 

Basically, I was like on a trial-and-error phase for days. This could also mean that for days I was sleeping my worries away for hardly settling on something to watch. I was not sure if I was just extra picky at that time and was delusional for expecting that the film I wanted to watch will unfold a spectacular scene the very moment it starts. Thus, I decided to just maybe stretch my patience out and give the film that I would watch more time to roll by without the constant pauses of hesitation.   

After scrolling with the hopes of stumbling upon something, I came across this Korean period drama which I had seen already before but had never actually been interested to see. However, at that time, I clicked it without much conscious thought. The preview automatically played but I decided to further watch some of its clips on YouTube just to know something a little more of this drama. So, after some little exposure from it, I finally decided to watch The Hymn of Death. 

Hymn of Death Official Trailer

The moment the series started, there's no really such an exaggerated feeling of discovery, but just a slight nod of acknowledgement. As of writing, I could still recall flashes of image on its pilot episode. Within few seconds already rolling by, I could say I was open still on the possibility that I might back out if ever it will not stir even a slightest interest in me. And surprisingly enough, it actually did.

The film has a bleak image. It opened in a moving ship swaying across the calmness of the ocean. There was a patrol guard on duty, checking each pole of the vessel through the reach of his flashlight. On the top of that scene, the opening credits vaguely flashing by whenever the camera passed by a wall while still following the guard who was then being pulled by the distinct humming lullabies from a phonograph. I should not forget to note how I initially hooked by the camera movement specially when it zoomed out from the back of the patrol guard. From that scene, I was slowly and already getting the groove of the drama just like how the ship was sailing stilly in the course of night without probably anticipating what would unfold thereafter. 

The patrol guard stopped by an open room. The vinyl playing was the only thing there with life, the rest seemed undisturbed. After turning to another direction, the guard spotted a note beside the suitcase.

 

There, I already felt a heightened sense of foreboding. The note was not a plain apology but a foreshadowing of what has already happened by the time it dawned on him what was the note telling him. With enlarged eyes, he stormed out the room and went straight to that part of ship wherein he was stopped by the still-like image of two pairs of shoes both aligned to the direction of the comely ocean. 

Tracing the phonograph, the note, and the shoes, I thought about the possibility that they both wanted it. 

The phonograph was playing invitingly, like it was left there playing on its own to draw anyone to the direction of the open room where it was at. Without it, probably, the guard would not locate the note left beside the suitcase. It was placed in a perfect spot to glance upon, as if it was there to be discovered because it had to. Also, it was not even wrinkled, but on the paper, it had there an inky stamp of someone's fingerprint. The way it was written was so casual and composed. It did not evoke even a sense of remorse nor regret, but just a casual apology for leaving such kind of inconvenience to a stranger. 

And when the patrol guard spotted the pairs of shoes, it was unnaturally aligned. One could have thought that no one attempted to jump off the vessel, however, it was an ocean, and the chance of getting out of their alive was improbable. In addition, no one would definitely jumped into there, unless, they wanted to end their life.   

Despite his fright, the patrol guard collected his grip and still managed to blow his whistle which then echoed throughout the silence of the night. Perhaps, on their sleep, no one thought that in the midst of it, there were two lovers who were wakeful. And only the pretentiously calmed ocean witnessed their freedom.

After I finished the few episodes of The Hymn of Death, I was left unfinished. I was bombarded a lot with my own wonderings, that's why, for days I had been pondering about their story and the many things that could have happened if only this and that did not happen. What added up more is the fact that I was not aware that the episode I finished watching was already its finale. And although I know everything on its last minute until its ending made sense, I felt like I was still gasping for another queue of episodes, and I was not ready yet to finish their story because the drama had already put me at the peak of anticipation, only to find out that I was still hanging even it was already ended.  

I also found out that The Hymn of Death was inspired by true-to-life events although I was not sure if it has been accurately depicted in the drama. Since it was hard to trace the life of both Kim u-Jin and Yun Sim-Deok due to the limited resources, I will just then set my focus on the drama itself.

There were a lot of striking scenes throughout the course of my watching experience, however, what caught hold of me, was the very few mentions of name of this Japanese novelist. The first time I heard of him, which I failed then to recall immediately (so, I had to re-watch that scene), was when Yun Sim-Deok stepped in the room carefully. As she walked further, there revealed the sightly view of a man who's front onto the sunlit window. He was immersed, and his conviction in every read word, was calm. As soon as he finished reciting the poem, he was caught by the unwelcome voice of a stranger who then mentioned the man behind the poem he was reading: Takeo Arishima. 

I did not take note of his name. I thought he would just passed by. Not until when I was on the middle of the second episode, that's before the eventual exchange of their unwanted goodbyes, when Kim U-Jin and Yun Sim-Deok were stopped, in the bustling road, by the toss of newspapers in the air. Takeo Arishima was said, committed suicide with his lover who, later I found out, was a married woman. 

When I learned about Takeo Arishima's life, I could not dismiss the idea that both him and Kim U-Jin were kind of similar in a way especially of their circumstances. 

How coincidental their lives were? 

I was also particularly intrigued by their similarities. Takeo Arishima was, like Kim U-Jin, a son of a wealthy family. However, due to their circumstances, they were grounded by their filial duties and were restricted then to pursue the life they wanted. Both of them sought refuge in the cavern of literariness-- Arishima, with his poems and novels; U-Jin, with his playwrights. In the world where they lived strictly, both of them respectively found their peace through their lovers. In the drama, Yun Sim-Deok became his assurance, the lullaby who calmed his mental cacophonies, the woman he loved but should never loved because...he was already married. Takeo Arishima met Akiko Hatano when he was already widowed. However, the case was, Hatano was the one who's married. Despite the reality, Arishima continued to be her illicit paramour just like Sim-Deok to u-Jin. 

Because of the piled-up misery, pain and heartaches, they got overwhelmed by the surge of adversities. Both of them were held in their throats and their hands were tied and their voice were silenced, and they could not breathe anymore. By the last episode, U-Jin and Sim-Deok finally met and sailed together to Joseon. This was their whereabouts before the patrol guard heard the phonograph on the first episode. It was connected. 

I was thinking so hard about their composure. They were heavy hearted for sure but they looked strangely relaxed and carefree. Although, I had already had my assumptions with me throughout the series because of what happened in the pilot episode, I was still made to believe that probably they did not do it. They might just took off their shoes and walked around the ship late at night in barefoot. 

But who I was kidding?

When they swayed their bodies along with the gloomy whisper of the wind, their eyes were in between melancholy and bliss. But more than anything, as they finally kissed for the first time, I felt they wanted it, they really did. They wanted their happiness, and the only choice left for them by the world...was to calm their souls. The splash of the water slightly changed the tempo of the nightly lullabies, but despite of it, it was certain enough, that it was their melody hitting the calmness of the ocean and one silent night, there were two lovers who finally found their peace.  

What if Takeo Arishima did not commit suicide with his lover? 

The more I think of it, it seems that Kim U-Jin was a great admirer of Takeo Arishima. And of all the Japanese novelist at their time, why it seems U-Jin had this intersection, although not on a personal level with the novelist, but they really had almost identical happenings especially on their respective later years. Arishima was born ahead of U-Jin, they had almost 19 years gap, but their lives together were still extended over to one another. Arishima might not know or heard about this young playwriter but U-Jin had seemed to have a particular regard to the novelist. And after learning the death of Arishima with his lover, it had almost made me beleive that U-Jin was somewhat religiously following the track of Arishima even in the aspect of death.

After being widowed for 7 years, Arishima met Hatano, a married woman and an editor. Like in the story of U-Jim and Sim-Deok, their forbidden love was discovered by Hatano's husband himself. This unfortunately led them to commit suicide by hanging themselves together. It reminded me then on the death of U-Jin and Sim-Deok who, together also, killed themselves by jumping off from the sailing vessel. It was also said that due to isolated location, people struggled to find the bodies of Arishima and Hatano, if it weren't for the notes they left behind probably they wouldn't be discovered. This made me linked to the note which, in the series, was left and placed easily near the phonograph. 

Was it a coincidence?

Or was it U-Jin's obsession to Arishima that made him do the same and almost the exact thing?

I could not help but think about what was going on in the mind of U-Jin. Throughout the series, aside from that emotional outburst he had with his father and few crying scenes, the dominant face I could see through his personality was reservation. Definitely, there was sadness and agony evident in his eyes, the longing and resistance towards Sim-Deok, and anger towards the harsh society, but more than anything else, he was calm and reserved. I could not even hear his thoughts and I could not feel his warmth. Was it because, all through his life, he was restrained by all those unspoken rules? 

I was wondering how he learned about Takeo Arishima. And out of all the Japanese writers, why it seemed U-Jin has this special inclination not only through his works but even on the personal life of Arishima?

What if, there was no Takeo Arishima?

What if, he had another person whom he had a particular admiration to, and not him?

What if, Arishima did not commit suicide with his lover?

These were the few weighty what ifs I had after days of pondering about The Hymn of Death. I was deeply curious about Kim U-Jin really, that I could not dismiss the possibility that he might be obsessed with Arishima.

And if ever, my what ifs happened actually, I felt like the ending would still be tragic. They might not end up together and forever, separately and apart, they will be living in a sad life. They would not have still the freedom they wanted. Or maybe I am thinking too much?

Yun Sim-Deok would have a chance still to be much more well-known as a soprano singer. And Kim U-Jin might have left his filial duties and continuously produced many literary works especially playwrights. But they would be unhappy without each other.

While writing this, I could not help but breathe sighs. It was, indeed, a tragic life story. 

In the end, whatever I tried to change with my what ifs, they might not still find their peace. For their peace was with each other, and the only possible way to find it was to be together in the another world where there was a freedom to be just them.