Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Countdown to Another Chance at Not Screwing Up

In a few hours it will be 2009, and the year we knew as 2008 will be over. Over. So what have you done with the past 525,600 minutes? No, I won't wax nostalgic about the past year, or make up some half-assed resolution which we all know I won't be doing anyway.

This New Year we're down to three. It's just my mother, baby sister and me celebrating the coming year. My brother will spend it at their house, with Abby the Cute Terrorist who once threatened me with "Don't touch my toys, bugbog kita". My sister and her family hauled their overnight things to her in-laws, all the while tearful over the fact that this will be the first time she will spend New Year away from us. I say, dude, you got married. This falls under the clause "and other things that may be requested from time to time, that if you refuse your conscience will bug you forever" in the marriage contract.

I picked up some Asti and Bailey's and told my mother and sister we're getting pissed drunk later. Hey, she will eventually discover alcohol, why not learn at home, right? Now we'll know how she is when drunk, so that in the future when she comes home sauced she won't be able to deny it.

I guess we'll just crank up the volume later while passing the champagne bottle around. Happy New Year, everybody. Don't be stupid and blow your hands off from those firecrackes.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Maligayang Pasko

(Sinabi nang wag magsusulat pag walang maisip, pero minsan kailangan talagang magsulat kahit walang laman ang utak. Yun nga lang, basura din ang lalabas. Tapos magsisisi ka, na sana, di mo na lang tinuloy. Kasi binabasa mo ulit ang sinulat mo, tapos mandidiri ka. Parang hindi sayo nanggaling.

Minsan din, nakakatamad magpanggap na may alam ka, na puro may kwenta ang sasabihin mo. Kasi minsan, wala talaga. Minsan, masarap lang tumunganga. Yung nakatingin sa malayo, pero walang nakikita at naririnig. Walang iniisip.

Minsan, naiisip ko, totoo yata yung sinasabing masarap maging ignorante. Kawawa ka nga lang, pero siguro ang ginhawa ng wala kang alam. Lolokohin ka at pagtatawanan, pero kung hindi mo naman alam kung bakit, pwede na rin.

Pero ayoko naman yatang maging engot. Oo na, ako na yung nagtatawa sa mga medyo nawawala. Pero ang pinagtatawanan ko lang, yung mga nag-aral naman eh bakit tanga pa rin. Yung mga hindi nakapag-aral, syempre di sila kasali. Kasi hindi naman talaga sila tinuruan. Pero yung kumpleto ang edukasyon mula nursery hanggang kolehiyo, tapos bobo pa rin, eh ibang usapan na yun.

Eto, eto ang basurang lumabas mula sa utak na kumuha ng sustansya sa tyan na masyadong madami ang nakain kahapon.)

Monday, December 22, 2008

Framed, the Movie

Friday, December 19, 2008

Where Was I?

I've digressed a lot and I was a lot distracted also from the STML thing, and this is another manifestation of short term memory loss, right, that I forget what I was going to say.

So anyway, that mountain trip left me with a sprained knee or knee ligament or something, that after three weeks still hurts. In the mornings when I stretch, I get an unpleasant jolt from that side of my leg. So what really happened was, we were getting down that mountain that took us 2.5 hours of heaving and climbing (after finally ditching our packs to the kids living in the area), but only took us less than 30 minutes to run down.

It was a slippery slope on the grassless parts, as it had tiny pebbles that served as mini-wheels for our shoes. I felt I was rollerblading down the hill on some parts, as the incline would force you to actually run down because of gravity. We were near the murderous cemented road, I could see the sari-sari store, and maybe I got a little too excited to finally sit down that my left foot slipped on those pebbles again and traveled quite a distance while the right stayed where it was.

I literally hugged a tree before the force throws me to the cemented road without due process. And I stayed on that position for a while, hugging the tree, while whinging about how my leg hurts. The people hanging around the store saw everything and were laughing at me. Of course. It was funny if it happened to someone else. When we got to Tagaytay for dinner I was trying not to let the little tears of pain creep up, but damn it hurt really bad.

Now I'm still taking it easy, but I'm relatively ok. I still haven't uploaded the pictures but watch out for it on my Flickr site. Come to think of it, I still have the Zoobic, Lomolove, Gulugod Baboy, and whatever on my memory card. Thanks to Columbia Sportswear for the climb.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

This and That, a.k.a. I Can't Write

While waiting for my turn at the embassy, I overheard an ongoing interview at the window nearest to me:

Consul: So why do you want to visit (first world country)?

I swear, if she said "to see snow" I would have gone there and probably smacked her.


I'm currently typing this in some godawful internet shop across the street, and people here have apparently no eardrums, hygiene, and consideration. They all shout at each other over very loud music, sneeze at the keyboards, and they read over my shoulder. Everybody is also below 15.

I am so getting Globe Visibility or Smart Bro tomorrow.


I've been sick for more than a week now, and it's not fun at all. I've been heaving my lungs and it's embarrassing, and my nose runs faster than you can say diphenhydramine. But then again, anything is faster than saying that word.


I just had a Flaming Chorizo on Piggyback for dinner, and it's not a metaphor or a name for something dirty. It was a dish from Terry Selection. It was good, but small.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Cinemalomo 2008

After much deliberation with my other personalities, we finally decided to team up with Rockstar (after deliberation with his personalities too) and came up with this. Cinemalomo 2008 on December 20, Mogwai at Cubao X. Our personalities will see you there.

EDIT: Replaced the poster because it doesn't say anything about the movie. Watch out for the Cinemalomo 2008 entries on Saturday's issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Plan B is in Motion

I held off doing it because I felt it wasn't time, and I wasn't ready. I just listened to other people's tales of crossing over - sometimes it was great, sometimes it wasn't. Truth be told, I don't have the dream. For me it was just another one of them stories I can tell when I'm back home, like how we got lost or the bakery at the corner sells the best bread ever.

I've learned that in life we should never force things our way, because even if it eventually gets done you're never really happy with the results. So I didn't, and waited for the right moment. I'm glad I did, it saved me a whole lot of energy, time, money and getting over from being rejected.

Now I have it, and frankly, the first thought that crossed my mind was what store to hit first when I get there.

Monday, December 08, 2008

Strapped Down

The Havaianas thing at Anawangin is showing at Studio 23's News Central right this moment and I'm three rides away from a TV. Dammit.

UPDATE: Ok, I wasn't anywhere in the segment. Gah.


Me pointing out the obvious.

The Pinoy Icons Pop Art Exhibit is currently ongoing at the 4th Floor of the Shangri-La Plaza. Exhibit runs until December 11 only.

Parokya Ni Edgar
Musical Artists

No other band has fervently put the quintessential Pinoy humor as a staple in the music industry than Parokya ni Edgar. Starting off their careers in the ’90s by shocking the audience with their cross-dressing acts, their chart-topping songs are bound to make fans smile or laugh, thanks to their witty lyrics, backed with music videos and live performances that prove to be anything but a bore. Parokya’s effortless ability to make music that transcends all ages and classes is reason enough to regard them as one of the most highly respected bands today.

-Diona Valdez, Writer

Thursday, December 04, 2008

STML Part One

Brain cells do not regenerate and brain cells die from one or more of the following: a) overuse; b) stagnation; c) listening to Celine Dion and Air Supply (accidental or otherwise); and d) trying to calculate the trajectory of a free-falling body leaving Station A at 140 miles per hour on a 60-degree circumference.

You know when you’re in the middle of something very, very bad and you vow never ever to be there again? And then you survive it, good things happen and you forget about it. Then after a while you find yourself right smack in the middle of it all, again. Then you ask yourself why do you willingly volunteer yourself head first in these kinds of things. I suffer from short term memory loss, or STML.

I’m not talking about relationships, although it might be that too, but it’s not. I’m talking about climbing mountains. Over the weekend Team Porter climbed Gulugod Baboy in Anilao. They said it was a beginner’s climb. Yeah, if you’ve got legs of steel and lungs up to your neck.

I packed very light, as light as I can go because I didn’t want to experience what I went through in Pulag again. Also because they didn’t have porters in Gulugod Baboy. When we got there, there was a cemented road leading up to a steep trail. Notice I used UP and STEEP in the same sentence? Dear God, I thought my smoker’s heart was going to explode right out of my ribcage.

The cemented road was like 45 degrees inclined and every pound I was carrying seemed like ten. I would have very much liked to pass out but I don’t really have the right to, because I was with two people who had no sleep and were carrying much bigger packs than mine.

Photo by Kha

To be continued...

Monday, November 24, 2008

So This is How They Travel

Saturday morning I woke up early to catch this bus. Digiprint has so lovingly loaned us the bus used by their basketball players so we can go to Subic in style. I know it's supposed to be special, but I had no idea.

It had three lines of single seats only, so you don't have to worry about your seatmate drooling all over you. It had ample leg room (it was built for tall people) so no cramping.

At the back there was a couch and two tables, where we ate our takeout breakfasts and played card games. I didn't play because I'm stupid in card games.

The couch was very comfortable. Someone slept very soundly.

It was a like a living room, only better because we're going some place with friends. To take pictures.

This is Lomomanila before the trolls. Group picture by Eazy.

Thank you Digiprint/LBC, and Pammy for the Zoobic Adventure.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Don't Touch my Stuff

I have this weird thing about touching. While I'm all for hugging my friends and family, I can't stand being touched by a stranger (except if he's good looking). Whenever someone holds on to me at the MRT I shoot that person a take-your-hands-off-me-or-die look. My hackles stand up and I count to ten before I push the person away. I don't care if you skid down to the last car of the train, just don't use me as your anchor. They put stuff for that, use it.

Same thing with my personal stuff. When I was still living with them, my siblings get yelled at whenever they use my things without permission. I won't touch other people's things without their knowledge, so it should go both ways. Privacy should be respected. (And people who hack emails deserve to live with the rats in the sewer.)

Last night I came home to my room almost clutter-free. I wondered where Igor stuffed my kalat when I saw my trash bin. I almost fainted at the sight of my camera boxes lined up for throwing. I opened my wardrobe and she rearranged everything, with my kikay things on one side and my clothes on another. It's as if she was so disgusted with how I live that she did a favor to humanity by cleaning my room to prevent new life forms from emerging.

I didn't get angry, I know she meant well. After all, I think she wants to be an interior designer someday as I come home everyday to a different living room arrangement. She even knows how to do that knot thing for the curtains that make it look like we're domesticated. I just told her to put my things back to where they were before, so I know where I can find my broken watch from 1999.

Come Aboard!

Wednesday, November 19, 2008


Last night I sort of hung out with boys in their boys' house full of boy things. Even the dog was a boy dog.

Come to think of it, I've never really been to a house where the occupants were all male. It's surprisingly...clean. Sorry, I watch too much movies to conclude that all boys are slobs. This house also looks like a Marvel museum. The Justice League and their villains stare at me from all corners, and Doc Oc hangs perilously from a computer table. I wanted to play with them, maybe stage a full assault on the heroes, but I was afraid that if I touched them an arm would fall off and they would all beat me with their drumsticks.

Yes, I was in the midst of rockstars. I'm not even using it as a metaphor. They are literally rockstars, with albums and music videos and an adoring public. I stick out like a frog in a dollhouse. I wonder what would happen if I replaced all hero figures with a Barbie doll, and all villains with a troll. That's probably the time they would all beat me with drumsticks and guitars.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Thank You, Havaianas

The winner of the Havaianas contest (I'll find the link later) was taken back to the beach of his story, and that was Anawangin. Thank you, Havaianas, for letting us in on the fun.

Camara Island

Anawangin Beach

Coke Bolipata's Mini Theater

Havaianas on the beach

Hold my Attention

I have this ongoing "drama" that I let myself wallow in, probably because I haven't yet met my life drama quota for 2008. I always say that I have this inborn talent of being numb on command, that if it gets too touchy-feely for me I just turn my back and look for other things to wallow in.

Now I'm completely off the drugs and I just cut the drama short. It's never productive to indulge in what ifs and what could have beens, because no one can do anything about the past. If there exists someone or something that could hold my attention 100% for more than six months then I'll make sure it gets canonized or at least get a star at the Eastwood grounds.

This is the main thing that's making me lean towards singlehood forever. What if in the heat of the moment I decide to get married, then realize that I will be waking up with the same person for the rest of my life? It freaks me out, that concept of forever. Not that I'm discouraging you guys to get married or committing, but I don't know if it's for me. I didn't even last two weeks in that Project 365 thing, and I can't get a dog because I'm afraid I'll come home one day to it's cold, dead body.

NOTE: If you're Dennis Trillo, Milo Ventimiglia, Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, or The Starbucks Guy, the above is so not true. I would totally commit.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

An Ode to Friendster

In 2003 I signed up on Friendster, one of the pioneering and most popular social networking sites then. It was (I think) the first to come up with the concept of connecting people by degrees. Yeah, there was the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, but then the creators of Friendster took it up a notch and applied it to the common people.

It was the in thing back then, even celebrities and the who’s who signed up. People post pictures and add friends like crazy, and one can write “testimonials” about their friends. Testimonials are personal accounts about that person, how he/she’s so funny and smart and pretty and the works. However, people had this concept that if you don’t have testimonials, you’re a loser. So they beg for one, which in my book warrants them a bullet in the head.

Testimonials aside, it was cool to see how many degrees apart I am from say, Vinci Montaner (shut up). It was a graphical representation of how small the world really is, that the people you know now also know the people from another part of your life. Gradually, I found old friends and classmates and even teachers through Friendster.

It was a great tool for staying connected with them and being updated with their lives. Who got engaged, married, had kids, traveled to New York, or met a celebrity – it’s all there in the pictures. Eventually they added more features like bulletin boards, blogs and other applications. And eventually, I got sick of it.

First, there was the layout. It looked like that since I signed up 5 years ago. Sure, they moved things around and improved views and stuff, but in general IT’S THE SAME BORING LAYOUT SINCE IT WAS BORN. It sucked then and it still sucks now. Familiarity breeds contempt. Do the math.

Then there’s that universal law that the more people surround you, the more crap you get. It’s true. To be fair, I don’t get crap from most of the people from my friends list, but crap is crap and seriously, how many surveys can you really answer in this lifetime? And also, the bulletin board is for announcements, important stuff. Surveys and rants and raves, you put them in blogs. Like this one. You don’t force feed people with “what was the last thing you ate” and your choice between “beach or mountain” because nobody really freaking cares.

After all that’s been said, I still can’t bring myself to delete my account. It’s my umbilical cord to my sort of past, and I want to know if they give birth to mutants or marry one so I can gloat about being single. Meanwhile you can find me over at Facebook.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Not Only Zebras Have Stripes

Because I do have a lot on my legs. But I'm so pooped right now so I'm heading straight home, but maybe tomorrow I'll tell you all about the trip.

It was good to get out of the city over the weekend (and you can't crack some half-assed joke about me always being out of the city because that's not true I was here the weekend before). We saw some of the finest abs of Manila camping out at the same resort as ours. One of them was so fine I could've given him my "forever".

Ok, I stole that line from Monina.

We ate, ate, ate, visited an old house, ate, ate, ate, drank, danced, slept, ate, hiked, swam, ate, ate, ate, swam, ate, drank, slept, went home. Yep, that pretty much sums it all up. If I see the sun tomorrow then I'll upload pictures on Flickr.

Thursday, November 06, 2008

Anyone Up There?

Yesterday this girl problem took up so much of my energy that I had to take the morning off. (Digression: want to scare a man? Just tell him it's a girl thing and he's off running.) As I was getting ready for work, I watched Dave Letterman currently on his Top 10, "Stupid Things Americans Say to the British". I love Letterman, I used to watch him every night on that channel on free TV. Some days the show is boring, but most of it I like.

Turned out his next guest was Paris Hilton. It was a little disorienting to hear her speak since I mostly see her on Dlisted and PerezHilton and GFY being made fun of. She was promoting her new movie and her reality show BFF. She must be either really stupid or incredibly naive, because Dave never stopped making fun of her and she just sits there looking blank. She couldn't even banter, so I'm standing up for my belief that wit takes intelligence, and that you can never buy brain cells.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Halloween Hangover

It's been 4 days since Halloween and the pictures are online. Sometimes I think we're looking at the wrong concept for Halloween parties. Yeah, ghouls and vampires are scary, but how many of us have actually seen one? Who knows if vampires actually wear a cape? Or that witches really do ride brooms?

Scary movies hardly ever scare me. Ok, they startle me but I don't lose sleep over it, especially those with creatures that bite/eat/nibble on people. The movie Mirrors (starring Kiefer Sutherland) almost did it if not for the screaming banshee that appeared towards the end. For me to be scared, I have to be able to relate it to what I have seen, heard and felt. That's why I find the movies Sixth Sense and The Others still scary even on repeat, it's a total mindfuck. Our imagination is what really scares us.

So what would be considered horrifying? Make-believe videos of our loved ones dying, maybe. Or announcing your vital stats, weight and BMI in a microphone during a party. Probably owning up to every lie you've ever made in your lifetime. Admitting your attraction to someone can be horrifying, especially if you went around telling people that you'd die first before you found the person attractive.

It sure beats the best costume in the room, but it doesn't make much of a party atmosphere.

Lomomanila scares:

and eats:

Monday, November 03, 2008

It's Only Funny If It's Happening to Someone Else

I shouldn't have mocked people with the silly problems with such glee, because the universe likes to play dirty tricks on mocking people. I now give you the authority to laugh at me, but I'm not getting ice cream and trooping to my friends' houses to eat my way out of this. My friends are not home and I don't really like ice cream that much. Instead, I will finally use the gym clothes I stocked here, although I think they date back to 2006.

I'm creating a playlist for the treadmill and I don't know what to put in it, probably no Rachael Yamagata and Rilo Kiley or Moonpools because that would just make me want to curl up inside my bedroom and play 7 Wonders. It's a very tempting option but I always oversleep. There are more important things to do in life than just sleep. Like read my bookpile, cleanup my files, organize my charger drawer, and contemplate joining Cinemalomo this year.

PS: I want to tell you all about Lomomanila's Halloween party but I'm too lazy to find other synonyms for "fun", "rocking", "awesome costumes" and whatnot. Joker and Batman met though. I went as a witch (with a capital B) with spiders on my head as a tribute to Dennis Trillo's new series, which I will not watch at all. Yeah yeah, I'm a bad girlfriend but seriously I think the cringe factor is high on this one. Why can't he just act on proper movies and telenovelas since he can very well do so?

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

It's Subjective

Girls don't have to be lesbians to like other girls. Women admire other women too, and not in a sleazy way. I have girl crushes, those who I find really pretty and feminine. I have my own standards of beauty, and by my standards, they're beautiful.

I like good skin, fine cheekbones, and long eyelashes. There are girls who are so strikingly, drop dead gorgeous (hello Angelina), and then there are those whose beauty grows on you. The longer you look at them, the more beautiful they get. Skin color isn't a factor for me, but I generally find the duskier tones more appealing. I don't like the idea (especially here in the Philippines) that the fairer you are, the better you look. Hey gluta bitches, lay off the MET.

I like to look at tall, slender women who can wear even a garbage bag, but I'm more amazed with "larger" women who can pull off outfits. There are also beauties who seem so average, then you take their picture and their bone structure just pops off the camera LCD. That's why some supermodels look plain when you see them in person.

The point of all this discussion is yeah, you're not one of them. So stop walking around like you're waiting for an agent to accost you, or dreaming about being in the movies because girl, hindi ka kagandahan.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Freak Out

We have a new yaya and she's freaking me out.

After I came back from my trip (yet again) I saw a big lump on the day bed downstairs, all covered up. I assumed she was the new yaya, since my roommate texted me in extreme joy that we are now employers again. She's big, obese even, but that's not the point. The next morning I slumped my way to the bathroom and she was in the kitchen, frying something. I called her name, and after a few seconds she turned around slowly to face me.

She has a big scar on her cheek, and even though it startled me, it's not what freaked me out. She looked at me with a piercing gaze, but somehow her eyes looked empty, like deep pools of blackness. They didn't catch the morning light. (Me talking to myself: Oh-kay. Stop watching Shake, Rattle and Roll on Cinema One. She is not going to cook you for her dinner.)

I went home early because I was crashing already at the office, then I made her cook dinner. Hooray, I ate at home. Get over it. I asked her to please bring up my dinner to my room since I'm a sloth that way. She looked at me for three solid beats, then in an icy tone said "Sige." When she brought the food I almost didn't want to eat it. You know, in case she's really the Evil Stepmother Incarnate or something.

It has been three days, and I think she's just unbelievably slow in the data processing department. If she was a camera she would have a shutter lag of 5 seconds per click. One time I asked her to buy tocilog and she came back with tapsilog, which is ok. But she asked me 5 times and I replied "tocilog" 5 times.

I don't know. I'm still locking my door.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Pictures Don't Tell Half the Story

Like this one. From looking at this picture you won't know that near where this sunset happened is the most delicious adobong pusit, and inihaw na tilapia and ok, the sisig was also good but I can't get the adobong pusit out of my mind.

This Masskara was the most fun I've had even if I lived in Bacolod for 7 years. For one, in my time there were only a handful of bars and they're all blech. Two, I wasn't allowed to party. Three, I didn't have my own money for partying. So this time, with a more party-inducing atmosphere, I went with friends to experience the Lacson Street party scene.

(I went to visit the grandmothers, don't look at me like that. I swear, I really did. Look:)

We were drunk every night, ate everything in sight, and partied until the sun came out. On our last night the Rockstars played to a crowd four blocks long, and the instructions to enter from the backstage was an adventure. We had to ride a pedicab and threaten the guard to let us in. (Hey you, guard man, I hate you.) Finally we got right in front of the stage, in the middle of their adoring public and the first thing we did was ask Rockstar for a beer. While he was playing onstage.

After that we proceeded to Sorento's to drink our weight in Bailey's, vodka, and beer. I wasn't really drunk but I guess 5am takes its toll on you.

Joy, I'm telling you to go home on Masskara season. I'll be there, I promise.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

You Won't Know Until I Tell You

From the desk of someone who wakes up to love songs (and proceeds to wake up her very sleepy and very cranky roommate who doesn't care about love songs):

For a million bucks you will never be able to single me out from a lineup. That's okay, really, because I won't be able to tell you anyway about how I waited, even though I was close to passing out.

And besides, someone will definitely kick my ass if I told you, to your face, how hot you look throwing that guitar in the air. I still have some dignity left.

So I'll be content writing statements I will never admit to, on temporary surfaces like this.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Because Rainbows Come Only After a Rain

I swear there was a human attached to that abomination. She walked around asking people if they're in their proper places, or whether they have a right to be sitting there. She never even looked at my direction even if I don't have a shred of paper in my person to pass for an Event Pass (wordplay not intended, just the brain malfunctioning). I stood at the city plaza for an hour under the sun without being asked for an ID, because it was supposedly an exclusive area for the coverage team. No one asked me, I didn't volunteer information. It's not lying.

I sat there on the grandstand, long lenses surrounding me, sometimes with a white stripe on it (that's an L lense for you mortals) then I get out Lex my lovely point-and-shoot sweetheart. And my Vivitar UW&S. Yes, I like it wide.

Finally I got bored, then we left and went out of the city to eat some serious seafood which was so good I didn't care if we were in Alaska or something.

More tales of the masquerade coming.

Guess who is this rockstar who, hours before their concert, was made to sit by his friends at the compartment area of a 4x4 because of space constraints. This was after he walked 16 blocks from their hotel to ours. We fed him real well afterwards anyway, so we're even.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Sleep Debt

Over the weekend I didn't get my usual 12-hour sleepfest because...I forgot what I did. For the life of me I can't remember what I did over the weekend. Oh yeah, I Photoshopped to death and my iBook G4 just up and died on me. My laptop is 4 years old, which in human years is like 65, near retirement. With a 512mb RAM, of course it can't process a 550mb file. Flattening a 30-layer image took 30 minutes of my life, 30 minutes of my life I can never get back. We imagined a small, thin and old person was in charge of cranking the integral cogs inside my computer. It's just another justification why I should get the new MacBook Pro, along with "it's so pretty" and "it would look so cool if I opened it up in the office library". The non-justifications were "I can't afford it, maybe if I sell a kidney" and "I need my money for more important things". Which of course are pretty minor reasons that I can just ignore. I'm good at ignoring, in case you don't know.

On other things, I think the toe next to the big one on my left foot (is there a fucking name for each of them because it's tiring to describe them like that) is sprained. At first I had no idea why it was hurting like hell, I swear the pain radiates to my kneecap, then I remembered over the weekend I stubbed it on a protruding part of the sidewalk and the pain was so bad I had to hold on to KFC's arm. Yes, the restaurant. I was wiping away involuntary tears and muttering every curse word I know, when my phone rang. The ensuing conversation required some hair-flipping and giggling and I forgot about my toe. Now it's reminding me of the horrible pain.

The point of the title is that my legs are shaking and I'm cold and trembling from too much caffeine from forcing myself to be awake. It's sooo hard to get up in the mornings after a four-hour sleep, sometimes I feel like throwing up. There's a very big chance that I will spend my first day on the trip sleeping in the hotel. I'll update you with Lex.

Oh yeah, it was Pampling's Red Box Jollibee birthday. Pictures by Kha and Mon.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

The Ice Cream Test

In the 1950s (or 60s, I don't want to google) several children were given the Ice Cream Test - each child was made to hold an ice cream cone, told to just hold it and they can't eat it, until the nice lady comes back. A hidden camera records the struggles of the child when the ice cream starts to melt. There were kids who started to lick the cone the moment the lady's back was turned, and there were kids who were never even tempted, they were just worried about the ice cream on their hands.

These kids were followed into adulthood by the researchers, and not surprisingly, the kids who had the self-restraint did well in life. They grew up to be successful in their chosen fields, having had the discipline early in life. The ones who didn't, well, there were exceptions but generally they were the drifters. This is not the most accurate account of that experiment, but you get the gist.

I have been handed an ice cream cone, and the lady had left the room. I am holding the chocolate pistachio with almonds (my dream ice cream flavor) and it's starting to melt. And I'm telling you, it will be over my dead body before I even think of eating it, because I will not be that person who can't focus her attention on one thing for more than two minutes at a time. Or that person who just walks away when she's bored, or when things have become routine.

I should have some semi-concrete plans of what I want to do, or where I want to be. I am an adult in a world in the brink of recession, and no one will take care of me if I keep dithering with my plans. Thankfully it's only me I am responsible to, and I don't know if I want a change in that area.

Still holding that ice cream.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

The Dirt

It's so much easier to write about what's happening to the world, instead of talking about myself, which just a year ago I was so obsessed with. Yes, I'm selfish and self-absorbed, so what. Who isn't anyway - up to a certain degree everybody thinks they're the greatest thing since sliced bread and twist-cap beer bottles. Of course, most of the time it's not true, and when I'm being egotistic the universe sees to it that I promptly fall from my not-so-high chair.

The past two weeks was like a gangbang of deadlines and obligations and learning curves, that left me with shredded dignity and zits and ugly nails. Two weeks ago I finally had the time to go inside a spa, and I was so tired from Jason's birthday overnight that I kept yanking my hand involuntary while my nails were being filed. It was embarrassing.

I am getting the hang of being without a yaya; all I have to do is take my laundry to that shop two blocks away every Sunday (if I'm home), not spill on my floor, and pretend that my room is currently undergoing renovations. One time I finally had the motivation to clean my room, and I was expecting a mountain of dust. Surprisingly, there was very minimal dust, and I moved furniture around. Maybe it's because I hardly open the windows, because duh, I'm never there during daytime.

I don't know what it's like to have a home-office-home routine, to be able to follow telenovelas, to recognize the new young things on TV, and to sleep before midnight. Maybe it's nice to do it once in a while (because right now my world is spinning due to lack of sleep) for health reasons. I haven't gone to the doctor yet but I think they would only tell me what I know - more rest. Someday, If I get the courage, I will lock up all distractions (only the non-living ones) inside a cabinet and throw away the key.

Oh yeah, I have a new one. Meet Lex.

Friday, October 10, 2008

I Don't Think We're Friends Yet

I got home relatively early last night, meaning before midnight. I was really tired for the nth day already, and I just came from an event where I realized that local free TV is ok, and periodically watching SOP or ASAP on weekends can be helpful. I recognized only one celebrity in the mob, and that was because he now looks like his 12-year old self again, with those chubby cheeks. And Marc Nelson. You should always recognize Marc Nelson.

Then after that I had to speed learn Photoshop so I can be armed for the weekend, because I don't know, the universe doesn't seem to like me a lot these days. Crap just keeps piling up until I'm unconscious and bleeding.

I was in bed already, not sure if I was awake or just dreaming. I felt the familiar creepy, heavy feeling I get when I have "visitors" in my room. There were five or six of them, one even sitting on my bed. I couldn't move, I could only watch and listen to them.

They seem to be taking a break, sitting there exchanging stories. Then the woman nearest to me noticed that I was watching them, so she looked at me pointedly, "What?" At that point all the hairs I have on my head and arms were probably standing on end, aside from the fact that I couldn't breathe properly. I said I was just listening to them, because it is my room and I have a right to listen. They tried to include me in the conversation, and I was pretending I wasn't scared at all. Then I asked the stupidest thing you could ever ask spirits: "Can you help me win the lottery?"

And they laughed. All of them laughed at me, like the laugh you could die from. Except, well, they're all dead already.

And I was "OK, so you can't, I get it. How about a MacBook?" And they laughed even harder.

I was humiliated by a bunch of ghosts, and I can't even do anything about it. I hope they don't pass my way again.

PS: I seriously think now that my room is a passageway of some kind. I never see the same spirit twice, except for that dirty old man who tried to sleep on my bed.

Thursday, October 09, 2008

There's Something Going On

I act as if my life is the same, with all the things going on, coming at me from all sides - but in fact it is not. From the surface it's all the same, but the tip of the iceberg doesn't really give much clue about what's going on under.

I'm not the same. My friends are not the same. My job is not the same. Ergo, my life had changed. I haven't even noticed anything until the shit hit the fan. Some changes were good, some were not. While the good changes trumps the bad, still it's a bit disorienting. But then again, for ADD poster children like me, any change is a welcome break from the monotony that is beginning to make me want to gouge out my eyes.

Almost half of the Alkies had left. I want to leave. How long for, I don't know yet. Sometimes the concept of a fresh start is too tempting, but when I really think about it I probably don't have the energy to make a new life from scratch. The only aspect of it that appeals to me is that I can introduce myself as Victoria, the Underwear Maker, or maybe Pandora, the Exotic Belly Dancer. I know. I cringed too.

Then there's the thing I promised myself when a relationship bombed, that I won't again discuss online the details of any relationship I will have in the future. Sometimes my hand itches to type away, you know, for therapy. But what are friends for if they're not willing to listen to every detailed analysis of a particular day. Then again I hardly ever do that because I have this mindset that only people below 25 should do that. On a bed with your BFF, eating ice cream and pizza and discussing the man of the moment. I didn't even do that when I was 25.

Last night I had dinner with my married siblings, just the three of us like we used to, without the in-laws and the babies. I miss them a lot and I don't get to see them that much because they have family duties now, and when I do see them they're usually chasing their kid around. We used to go on movie dates and just talk about anything, and of course being married and having babies changed everything. I'm not envious, no, but I hate being left behind.

I need something new, and it's not a material thing.

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

The Alpha State

It's that state between sleep and wakefulness that I dread the most. It's when the mind is most open, most sensitive to everything.

This morning I was hugging my alarm clock to my chest, having snoozed it for the third time already. My eyes were half open, and I was lying down on the bed with one foot on the floor. Then there were footsteps on the hardwood floor, footsteps so close I could have turned my head and saw who it was. But I didn't, there was no need to.

I was looking at the mirror at the foot of my bed, and there he was: a young man walking back and forth inside my room, like he was impatiently waiting for something. I couldn't see his face, only the shape of his head. My mind was telling me to check who it was, except my body was frozen solid in fright. Then my alarm sounded again, and he was gone.

I think I might have to move again soon.

Friday, September 12, 2008


A day after I got back from my most recent cash bleeder trip, I was catching up on my sleep when at about noon my roommate banged down on my door asking if I sent Yaya on some errand. Duh. I wasn’t even awake yet.

“She’s gone.” Ok, I didn’t catch that. Say what? “She’s gone and so are her things.”

Man. I went back to bed and hugged my pillow, and stared into space for probably half an hour to process things. Dammit. I just arrived and barely unpacked. My empty suitcase was still strewn about with some travel debris on the floor, and my hamper was overflowing with dirty laundry.

I was never pretentious about being a homebody, so this news was bad news. This means I would have to lug my clothes to a laundry shop two blocks away. I would subsist on instant noodles and peanut butter again, because I couldn’t even open a can of tuna using the stupid can opener we have.

And that is what exactly happened, and still happening. I have since made two trips to that godawful laundry shop, I have tried all the silog varieties at the corner store, and somehow got my friends to buy me dinner sometimes. Then there are the times when I don’t eat. Boo fucking hoo.

My room looks like a refugee center, with all the odds and ends and chargers and clothes in piles. I hate it hate it hate it, but when I get home I’m just too tired to sort it out. Whatever independent living is, this is it.

We have had several candidates for replacement, but after the nightmares we had in the past we’re a little more picky now. The single mom is out (she plans to bring her kid and that’s ehhhh), the sickly one is also out (my drugs are mine and only mine), so that leaves us with the one who texts like “Morning poh teh, muztah na poh kelan q po recib teket ko?”

I’m very reluctant to ship her over here as I’m seeing some boy trouble in future with all that text talk, but as I’m plowing through my garbage I’m desperate. Good luck to me. Who knows what adventure this new one brings to our lives.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Making History

Tomorrow I will be part of the crowd that would scream their heads off when the four people we never thought would get back together, sets aside whatever crap they have and agrees to play ONE MORE TIME.

I don't care if there's a possibility of crowds going wild, or if it would rain -- it's the freaking ERASERHEADS for crying out loud, and I don't know if there would be another chance like this. Sure I've seen one or two of them playing in their respective bands, but it's a very different show when all four of them are there dishing out Magasin or Ang Huling El Bimbo.

I'd probably cry.

Monday, August 25, 2008

NAIA 3: Judgment Day

So NAIA 3 wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. I mean yes, it's big, and there are few enough people that you can rollerblade with ramps (I didn't try it) through several check-in counters; but it was manageable. I don't know if it was because of our late flights, but we didn't experience anything horrible.

There were metered taxis outside the Arrival Area, but a little bit more expensive: P70 flag-down rate, and P4 increments. My usual cab fare from airport to home was doubled. It was fine with me, it was safe, and cheaper than the airport taxis (P850 to where I live).

For a newly-opened airport, it was fine. Not great, just fine.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Noodle Heaven

In a few hours we will be boarding a plane for MNL, and while I miss my bed, I'm very reluctant to leave this place. But my dollars are close to extinction already, and besides, this particular section of Saigon was never meant to be experienced long term.

Our hotel is right smack in the middle of the backpacking district, where turning left means bus stations and bars and travel offices, and going to the right is where the best iced coffee with milk and the best beef pho in town can found.

We've tried Pho 2000 where President Bush had a bowl when he visited, but our street pho is still better. With thinly sliced beef on noodles and broth, I treat it like a blank canvas where the only taste necessary is the beef flavor. I pile on sprouts and leaves, season it with hoisin (I'm not sure) and chili sauce, lemon, and a sprinkle of salt and pepper.

If there's one thing I'm gonna miss about Viet Nam, it's the authentic pho.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008


As I type this I am sunburned, dead tired, and aching all over. We just did Day 1 of the Angkor Wat experience, and while half the stress is waving off street peddlers offering guide books and Cambodian Silk, the rest is made up of climbing stairs.

Today, I muttered "One step at a time" and "Don't look down" at least 479,000 times. I have a mild case of acrophobia, but I only felt it's impact today. After climbing down Ta Keo Temple I had to sit down for several minutes because I was seeing stars already. To wit:

I was sweating buckets not because I was tired, it's because I was having an anxiety attack or something. I was seriously dehydrated by the time we got back to the hotel.
So now I'm going to bed.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Touchdown in Saigon


I haven't had enough sleep yet, and I'm sure in a few days some people will be fantasizing of killing me. But I don't care, we're going out in a bit for coffee and my legs are still screaming from walking all around Ho Chi Minh. I swear, we walked like 18 blocks in total. While raining.

Some pictures of the Ho Chi Minh airport, and me in Europe. Right.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

The Missing Fishbowl

Dammit and I thought I had the cleanest template in the world. The fishbowls in the banner are not consistently appearing, sometimes they're there, sometimes they're off to see the world. My new bright and shiny template is not complete without the stupid fishes.

I know they have feelings and all and I shouldn't really call them stupid, but sometimes they really are (as far as I know none of them had ever finished college). And I'm blabbering here but I'm pissed off about that missing picture.

And I'm hungry and I haven't had dinner yet, and I want a tocilog right now. I bet I can inhale it in 3 minutes flat, I'm that hungry. I'm cranky and tired and sleepy, and basically I just want to lie down even without sleeping but obviously that will not do because duh, I will be gone for a week.

Yes, I'm taking off again. Time to use my new crunchy passport.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Of Hedonism and Self-Worship

I'm now thinking this Project 365 thing was a blind leap, because aside from the commitment (that word again), how many ways really can I take a self-portrait? Yeah yeah, I don't always have to show my face but I'm usually too lazy to set up that godawful heavy tripod. Unlike Clown Boy, I don't have the time and energy to set up strobes every fuckin day for a year. I don't have strobes by the way, but you get my drift.

Today (technically, yesterday) I set up a white party. Since I got my very first iPod I've been fascinated with white gadgets and have since accumulated quite a few. Hey, look at where my money goes.

And, on another note, have you noticed something different? Like the fishbowl up there? Or that I've changed my blog name? And the text that uhm, describes me? I realized I was lazy to blog because I find my template irritating. Yes, they were right, mean as it was.

This was my Day 2, Pammy was bitten by rag doll mania so we trooped to Divisoria(!) to buy materials. As usual we got carried away but it was good, we had a rag doll making party. We're thinking our dolls should stand up for a cause, like cancer or AIDS but we got sidetracked.

Mine was a vampire doll, so I guess it's Donate Blood Regularly, It's Healthy. Sluterella (Pammy's doll) was into S&M so hers was Whip Someone Everyday. Ron's was against Elephantiasis or something. Chri's lump, I mean doll, looked like Mayor Sanchez so it's Anti-Rape. Jonas' and Gabby's doll is still undecided, so for now they're for Protect the Unborn.

Meet the Mutants.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Seeing If You're Still There

Ok, I'm trying to get back in the habit of writing just for the sake of writing. It doesn’t have to be insightful or witty or cancer-curing, I just need to write. I don’t have to impress anyone at all, I’m writing for myself.

After all, when someone buys you a domain you’re supposed to get the most out of it. So yeah, see that in the URL box, it’s my very own dot com. Thank you, generous person. I hope you’ll still be here by the time it expires so you can pay for the renewal.

I’m doing my Project 365 now, and while I have my commitment issues I hope I can make it. I have to take one self-portrait a day and post it on Flickr. Before you all accuse me of having another venue for hedonism and self-worship (and it’s true, everybody has some of it in varying degrees for self-preservation), I don’t always show my face.

I don’t know when I’ll run out of ideas for the daily thing, I’m sure one day I wouldn’t even care because I have ADD like that. I’m trying to do several things now, like finish Breaking Dawn, pack for a long trip, and finish some stuff before leaving.

I’m excited for this trip because finally I can cross two countries off my list, and I’ll be going with Giles. I think this will be our first trip together, except if you count the Enchanted Kingdom thing last year. For $13 each, our room has a balcony and wifi. How cool is that?

Friday, August 08, 2008

Hi, I'm Redjeulle, and I'm a Plurk Addict

This is your cue to say, "Hi Redjeulle".

Then I'll talk about how I got addicted to Plurk and I was supposed to get help for the addiction, but dammit I fall off the wagon too many times and there are days when it's just too tiring to fight it.

Then I will talk about how Plurk helped silence the annoying voices in my mind, that sometimes the voices don't really have that much to say, and that one-liners are often the name of the game. I will talk about how Plurk seemingly became the answer to those one-liners that were just dying to be expressed in one way or another. I'll talk about how my officemates have had enough of it they look away when I draw breath for another brilliant one.

And yeah, then I'll admit that I really don't open this blog that much not because of Plurk, but because it's getting old already. That blogging had helped me in so many ways, I appreciate that, hell it prevented me from gouging my own eyes out whenever I fall into a pit of depression. But I"ll also talk about how I expressed myself in other ways, aside from Plurking.

I'll talk to you about my Project 365, how I am awfully scared of starting it, the commitment problems I have, and the things I do subconsciously just because I didn't want to commit. This is a test of my resolve and self-discipline.

I'll even talk to you about how I considered our Peter Pan Year over, a year of fun and roller-coaster rides and amazing things happening all at once. Neverland was not a dream, nor was it a made up place -- it's just that we grew up. Someday we'll visit it again, but right now I'm staring at my filing.

I'll talk to you about how certain people confuse me, but I refuse to be confused. I want to keep my head above water this time, and to not voluntarily drown just because someone pretty told me to inhale underwater. Or maybe I will not talk about that.

I'll talk about how I was scared to open this blog and dare to write, because I don't know what would I write about, if I can still write at all. Obviously I can, as you can still see my byline on print. But blogging is much more intimate for me; I pimp my personal life for blog material. Whatever's inside me will come out in some form -- a joke, a vignette, or a sarcastic remark sharp enough to cut through.

Obviously I've kept so much inside that I'm having verbal diarrhea now. But it just feels so gooood (you have no idea) to talk and talk and talk (or write and write and write) even though no one's listening (or reading). It just feels so damn good.

Big changes are coming, I can feel it. Both in this blog, and in my life. The one I live on the physical plane, because I also exist aside from all the virtual space I staked claim on.

Friday, July 18, 2008

So Sorry

You would think I have died. You would be wrong.

Actually, this blog is a kind of indicator how busy my life my is. If I'm blogging everyday (or God help me, twice a day) that either means I'm a loser who doesn't have a life, or I'm warming up for some real writing. Lately things had piled up right up to my nostrils that I could barely breathe. But I committed to those things so I had to do them.

Last week we finally went live with LoFi 3, and it was a success. I couldn't have done it without my Sensual People on Call who wrote great articles and took amazing pictures. Although, I have to say, the layout was a major factor. Thank you Scarecrow for being your artsy self. We can now all breathe. (Email me for the username and password, because it's R-18.)

Now what else? I know a lot had happened but I can't remember all of them. Oh yeah, the voices inside my head were temporarily silenced by my senseless one-liners over at Plurk, that orange box you see at my sidebar, which I know some people totally hate. Well, I don't care. But I agree with them about my template though, this is indeed boring and old. I'm on it.

About the writing, when I started blogging I never aimed to win any writing awards with this. It was an outlet, a sort of therapy when my brain goes on overload. It was also practice for real writing, a warm-up bench before they give me the 100 lb. barbell. I can put in as many fillers and fluff as I want; I'm saving the real writing for print. And I have come to accept that I'll never be truly and fully passionate about politics, religion, the environment, or the knee-deep shit the country is in right now. My talent lies elsewhere.

I'm not apologizing for any of it, but fuckit I will not write about pancit.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

The Lamest Meme Ever

NOTE to Cler: This is so lame, but because we're friends, I'll do it.

1. What is your favorite word?

2. What is your least favorite word?
Idol, Ser, or Broke. Probably Goodbye.

3. What turns you on, spiritually or emotionally?
Seriously? Ok, uhm, fuck I can't think of anything. I didn't know you can be turned on or off spiritually and emotionally.

4. What turns you off, spiritually or emotionally?
Nope, still can't think of anything.

5. What sound or noise do you love?
Generally, music. Babies' laughter.

6. What sound or noise do you hate?
Door slamming.

7. What is your favorite curse word?

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Travel writer?

9. What profession would you not like to do?
Customer service. I just don't have the patience.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
I don't know, but I hope not "Nyeeeee.. bakit nandito ka?" I'll accept a big sigh and a "That was close but you made it."

Wishing and Hoping

Dear beach gods,

Please let me see this in real life, on this weekend preferably, because my horoscope said I will find love if I take trips near bodies of water.

It's kinda urgent because Fifi's horoscope said she's getting engaged this month and mine just says I'll find my true love, and while I'm all for true love that lasts forever, a wedding is still way up there, so I'm hoping you will also send Dennis Trillo to the same place on the same weekend. Dennis Trillo trumps Clown Boy, anytime.

Thank you.

Monday, June 30, 2008

It's Not the Same Anymore

I am home before midnight on a Saturday. When Chri pulled up at my favorite taxi stand to drop me off, there were no lines of empty cabs with drivers sleeping at the wheel. The drugstore is actually open, and there were lots of vehicles on the busy intersection. I had to stand there for a while before an empty cab stopped for me. I looked at my watch: 11:48 pm. No way.

The usual scene on a Saturday night is nothing like that. For one, it’s not Saturday anymore. The first 3 hours of Sundays are spent doing whatever. Chri and Fifi drops me off in front of a closed drugstore, and I have to wake up the cab driver. The intersection is deserted, and I never experience traffic along Rizal Avenue on the way home.

To be fair, we’ve been together since 4pm. We ate at Bellini’s (pizza, pasta, and focaccia bread, so there was a lot of carb crashing later on), did some stuff for LoFi, some half-hearted portrait shots, speed-drank frappuccinos, pigged out on free popcorn at the Platinum Lounge while waiting for the power to come back, and sprawled on Lazy Boys while watching Angelina Jolie curve the bullet.

Digression: She was so cool in that movie Wanted – she’d bring out a sandwich while people were trying to kill each other in front of her. She made her cars drift and flip midair while holding a gun in each hand. She still had smoky eyes and matte foundation even if the train plunged 300 feet down a cliff, and only suffered a bleeding brow. I want to marry her even if I’m straight.

Anyway. By half past midnight I was ready for bed and ready to write. Then that evil PSP called me, “Hey bitch, pick me up!” so I did and spent 2 hours playing Patapon, which you should try playing too. There’s nothing like walking eyeballs with spears and a battle song to perk you up. That pata-pata-pata-pon song is still looping in my head.

Friday, June 27, 2008


Because I feel that I'm not doing enough, a few months ago I volunteered to head the third issue of LoFi, the official online magazine of Lomomanila. Before the first meeting for the issue, I was regretting my decision to do something that's already been done before. Duh, we're third.

But when ideas went flying and people's minds hit the high gears I was glad I'm part of this issue. Most of the people behind this issue are writers and artists. The articles are at best excellent and at the least, funny. Of course, this is mainly a photography magazine. Most of the pictures were especially shot for the issue, and I promise it will rock your world. We got lucky with our models, I guess.

We're on the last leg of the dirty work, and we're layouting next week, hopefully. Watch out for it.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Get Out, Get Out, Get Out

To those people who keep on pestering me about my civil status, my God, don't you have anything better to do? Tell you what, would you be insulted if I told you that I will never ever ever exchange lives with you in a million years, for a million dollars, or in exchange for a million other things? No.

Pesterer No. 1: You're a single mom whose boyfriend left you the moment the line went pink, and by the way, didn't he owe you a lot of money? Now you look 10 years older, you don't have a life, and you derive joy from teleseryes. No, thank you.

Pesterer No. 2: You're married with a 19-year old daughter who is now living with her boyfriend, also a student. Of course you don't know this, because when you come visit everything is in order. Yuh-uh. We know where she keeps the condoms, so shut up. I don't want your problems.

Pesterer No. 3: You're a silly old spinster whose joy in life is to cross-stitch cats and angels. I really don't care much about your opinion but when you try to scare me with what your life is like now, I only have more drive to really live my life now.

Pesterer No. 4: You were 38 when you finally got married (to your great joy), and you flaunt it to the world, especially to those who are still single. You freak, your husband looks like a tumor and last I heard he was pilfering your inheritance. So, no. Yuck, no.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008


I have lost all will to move. All I want to do is lie down on my three pillows with my PSP and render my fingers numb from playing too much (I have something like 30 PSP games on my hard drive). But then again real life hardly ever let me do that, not even on a rainy and typhoon-infested weekend.

I like my bed too much but who was it again that said "Early to bed and early to rise makes one a loser"? If that's the only condition then I'm very very far from being one. While getting dressed in the morning I gaze longingly at my beautifully rumpled bed, like it's calling me back telling me to spend more time with it. I'd love to, really really, but life as I know it would have to cease.

I haven't even turned on the TV and DVD player for the past two weeks. I have too many things vying for my short attention span. I shouldn't have bought all those gadgets, because recently whenever I'm alone in my room I want total silence. Then I think of the money I spent on those things so I have to justify the needless spending by using them. At one point on my way to Baguio I was listening to my iPod while popping bubbles on the PSP.

It's stimuli overload, and my brain is screaming. Strangely, I like my life the way it is now.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Minus One

Fifi had left the Alkies temporarily. She promised she’d be back for the Halloween ball, and she’d better because she’ll miss seeing Giff as the Horizon Perfekt.

So what happened during all those times I haven’t blogged? Let’s see. I finally met Dennis Trillo. It was planned but it happened so fast until now I’m not sure it actually took place, if not for the evidence. (I’m crossing my fingers they have corrected the credits for that article.)

The shoot was originally to be a part of a series but by the time I found the right people to call, summer was over. So a new series was created and he was the first to be in it.

I was nervous because the angle would be his musician side, and he’d be playing the drums (thanks F for the idea), and naturally the interview would center on music. I admit my choices are mostly limited to the music of the bands we usually go to see, and some others I find out through friends.

Dennis, however, likes the heavy metal and classic rock stuff and I’m an idiot when it comes to those things. I had to Google most of the bands he mentioned – the first thing that came to mind (it stayed in my mind) when he mentioned Eyehategod is “why do you hate God”? He had to spell it out.

Finally, I can cross it out my list. Next in line would be Brad Pitt, but world peace might be achieved first before I can ever go near him.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

We'll See You in September

Fifi has left the building.

We will miss you Fi. Remember your first task: buy a ticket to Manila.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Wait, Wait, Wait

I apologize for not being able to update much this past week. It's just that Fifi is leaving for the States tomorrow(!), so when the Alkies are not with Fifi we're trying to keep our brains from exploding. I guess we're just not used to seeing an Alkie canoodling with a boyfriend.

I'll write more in the next few days, I'll even tell you about Dennis Trillo.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Hello Freddy Krueger

It's Friday the 13th, and keeping in tradition with the reputation of this day, I have three articles to write before noon tomorrow. But before that, to make it more difficult to meet the deadlines, Mozzie has a gig tonight for RockEd. That means going home at dawn and of course I can't write just like that.

And I just wasted how many minutes writing this shit.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Some I Don't Knows

There are a lot of things on my mind, things that aren't really real or tangible, but in my mind they're ever-present and on constant heart-tug alert. When I finally get a break I confront these thoughts, and when I do they don't seem that important anymore.

You know the feeling when you finally lock the door behind you and you remember something you didn't do (but not something like leaving the stove on or the flat iron plugged), and it stays with you the whole day. Then you get home, finally do the thing, and it dawns on you that it wasn't that urgent anyway.

Things like forgetting to water the plant again, for the third day already. Or throwing out expired lotions and creams, or filling the ice trays. Those kind of things.

I don't water my plant everyday because it's a cactus, and I don't have expired lotion and cream (I use them all), and I don't care about the ice trays. It's something else. Like finally writing that thesis. Or saving up for the Big Trip. Or Taking the Big Leap.

It's not urgent nor important, because in my book Urgent and Important carries with them 3 kinds of consequences if not done:

1. Someone will die, either me or someone else.
2. Losing a substantial amount of money, or equivalent in kind.
3. Will endanger my personal relationship with people I care about.

Obviously, those things I mentioned are even trivial for some people. But there are those nights when I lie awake in bed seriously thinking if I need to start getting my hands dirty again.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

What a Wonderful World

It's good to live in a world where, when asked who am I waiting for, I would reply "Dennis Trillo" and I would totally be telling the truth.

Dreams do come true.

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

Baguio, Continued

The next day the Alkies woke up at noon since our post-party fare of lechon kawali and liempo at 3am made us catatonic. We headed to Sizzling Steaks to eat meat the size of our faces, because we were vegged out the previous day.

Chri chose to wander among used clothing while the rest of us went to Camp John Hay for a round of mini golf. I don't know who won (it's probably Fifi), but I still have the score sheet and the images of the ugly, ugly animal sculptures imprinted in my subconcious.

We got hungry so we bought supplies from Starbucks and House of Waffles to eat at the picnic tables near the gate. We had fun camwhoring and shooting the music video for Oliver with a Twist.

I have a bone to pick with House of Waffles though: THAT WAS NOT GRILLED CHEESE. It's not, it's not, it's not. You charge your unsuspecting customers 160 bucks plus tax for that crapola sandwich? For that price you could have piled ham and bacon and mushrooms between the two slices of generic white bread and it still wouldn't cost 160.

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

Lomo North Pole

Lomomanila opened it's first official out-of-town exhibit Lomo Elemento last May 31 at the Victor Oteyza Cultural Artspace (VOCAS) in Baguio. VOCAS is owned by the legendary Kidlat Tahimik, and it's awesome. If you've ever been there you will know what I'm talking about - located in the top floor of the La Azotea Building along Session Road, the space was done like a fantasy movie set.

Mozzie, Top Junk, and the SpaceFlower Show played, and as usual it was a rockin' night for everybody. Even Kawayan and Kabunyan were jumping and dancing around.

Many thanks to Tuesday for organizing the successful event and the de Guia family for having Lomomanila.

Credits: Panography by Kitkat, Lomowall by Olie, and group photo by Kha.

Monday, June 02, 2008

In Bed With

So I never got to ask him those questions, except for whether he's single, period. And where he goes to watch movies. His favorite place. And a lot more things that never saw print.

I asked, and he talked. With the Alkies listening at the next table.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Cross My Fingers

Good things come to those who wait.
Good things come to those who wait.
Good things come to those who wait.
Good things come to those who wait.
Good things come to those who wait.
Good things come to those who wait.
Good things come to those who wait.
Good things come to those who wait.

Now don't jinx it, whoever does I will slice from throat to navel.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Death is Just a Five Letter Word With Something Wonderful in the Middle

Things to do before I let Death give me a makeover:

1. Travel to Europe and the Mediterranean - specifically, the south of France, Florence, Egypt, Greece, and Hungary.
2. Become a travel writer.
3. Bungee jump.
4. Live in Manhattan for a year.
5. Live in Paris for a year.
6. Get out of the corporate life and spend my days flitting from one country to another. How, I have no idea.
7. Travel with Greenpeace or Doulos for a month
8. Learn to prepare a five-course meal on my own, from buying the ingredients to washing the pots and pans.
9. Learn to appreciate wine
10. Finally understand stock trading
11. Find someone interesting enough that I won't get tired of him for the rest of my life. Children optional.

A Learning Experience

I'll see you later, bitchessss.

Seats are reserved for the Alkies, and God was it hard to get.

Monday, May 26, 2008

I am so DEAD

I'm about to get creamed, I don't have anything left to do about it anymore but just suffer all the screaming I will surely get. When I think about it I want to flee town, but really it's not that big a deal except that I'm not exactly his best friend.

To console myself I just think of more deep shit I've been in in the past. Like that time in my previous job that I was so tired already of the monitoring chart I was doing for a big workshop we had, so I put "Martian" in one participant's nationality (I was too tired to ask around). I forgot all about it, then that chart was mistakenly sent to the country office.

Or that subject of the email ("the stupid book") that I sent my boss (I do that because I can joke around with him, then he forwarded the same email without changing the subject to all the contacts we had. We had to apologize left and right but fortunately they just had a good laugh.

No shit, I'm really about to get screamed at.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Can't Put It Off Anymore

I really really have to stop stuffing my mouth and I really really have to start braving the gym again. Sometimes it's just too difficult - an Alkie mentions keema with buttered rice at Behrouz and I melt.

A friend advised me to keep a food diary (and be honest about it), just to keep track of what's going in. I don't want to, because I'm scared to see what it would look like at the end of one week. Speaking of living healthy, someone forwarded me this email:

Reasons for sleeping and waking up early
Evening at 9 - 11pm: is the time for eliminating unnecessary/toxic chemicals (detoxification) from the antibody system (lymph nodes). This time duration should be spent by relaxing or listening to music.
Evening at 11pm - 1am: is the detoxification process in the liver, and ideally should be done in a deep sleep state.
Early morning 1 - 3am: detoxification process in the gall, also ideally done in a deep sleep state.
Early morning 3 - 5am: detoxification in the lungs.
Morning 5 - 7am: detoxification in the colon, you should empty your bowel.
Morning 7 - 9am: absorption of nutrients in the small intestine, you should be having breakfast at this time.

Pammy retaliated with this:

Evening at 9 - 11 pm: is the time for drinking beer and eating sisig. This time duration should be spent by relaxing or listening to music.
Early morning 1 - 3 am: is the time to try counting how many bottles of beer you've drank. If you can't count anymore, you've had enough.
Early morning 3 - 5 am: is the time to stop by Behrouz for some keema. With rice. Buttered rice.
Early morning 5 - 7 am: Sleep.
Early morning 7 - 9 am: Sleep.

Although I would add "Sleep until noon." Healthy living talk makes me uncomfortable, like them healthy eaters are eyeing me with pity, counting down the moment of my death. I'm pretty sure I'll die from cancer, or maybe I'll get hit by a falling building. I just can't imagine going to bed at 9pm and eating low-fat and tofu and alfalfa sprouts.

Healthy ka nga, wala ka namang friends.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Potential Questions for A

Are you single? If yes, would you date me?

Were you always this good looking?

You must have worked really hard to get those abs. Can I touch it?

What is your cellphone and landline number? How about email and YM id?

Do you live alone? Can I visit?

How many kids do you want?
(Followed by "Oh my gosh, me too!")

Will you marry me?

The One that Ended Up in the Newspaper

The party was so fun, it just had to be shared to everyone. Pam kinda feels selfish for keeping it to ourselves.

Go and have your own theme party.

Monday, May 19, 2008

I Hope He Chokes on his Trekkie Pin

I was once at a dinner party, where at coffee time I found myself alone with a man who was actually cleaning his laptop right there at the party.

I'm not Ms. Congeniality, but I made an effort after two minutes of him looking at the space beside my right ear. "So, what do you do?"

He looked at me suspiciously, then asked "Why?"

Geez, I don't know freakazoid, maybe to fill the awkward silence? It's called small talk and people do it to be polite, and in an ideal world you will give an interesting answer and we would banter back and forth and I would conclude that I did not waste my time on a misanthrope. Freak.

I got up and found other people.

Take Away the Rockstar Factor and They're All the Same

It doesn't matter really.

How they dress, what they do, how much they make -- men are men and sometimes they are pigs. Not always, of course, but nature made them to be so. They have this gene inside them in varying degrees.

It's not even intentional, they just do their thing without being evil about it. They don't stop and think whether they will hurt you in the process. Stay away from those who intentionally makes you cry though, before you snap and kill them.

I've met them young and I've met them old, and what can I say, they will always be little boys who need constant care and attention. They can make the dog drink vodka and they will wonder what will happen if they spit from the highest point at Shangri-la Mall's escalators.

They still drool over toys, and it just gets more and more expensive over time. Toys are defined here as "things that look pretty but have no actual use, or things that are overloaded with features but they don't use it anyway, so it's there to look pretty".

This is not a hate post, rather I'm trying to put it in perspective. Maybe in time I will understand them, but sometimes it just gets too tiring.

Thursday, May 15, 2008


I have never lusted for any of those designer shoes, until now:

Manolo Blahnik's Rottura, $635 at Barney's NY. Also available in purple, black and teal.


I have one assignment I can't seem to begin to write about. It's like there's a huge rock in that part of my brain where my memories of that event are stored, so if I try to access them I get pounded in the head. From inside.

It's not that I don't remember it, it's just that what I remember of it is not for public consumption. Who will care if I ate choriburger in the pouring rain, or that I got sloshed for two nights in a row? Wait, I didn't have the choriburger, I got the hotdog. See?

I do remember that Chivas killing all the bacteria in my throat, and that after 10 speed rounds of that with five other people in their hotel room I thought my face was lopsided. I remember the conversation at the balcony, while we chain-smoked.

I remember a lot of things. You just don't want to be reading them, trust me.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

We're All the Same

There were slambooks (remember them?) in 1959, I swear.

Inside my sister's room, I found a white hardbound notebook with a picture of Amalia Fuentes in the cover, back when she was the ultimate dyosa of the Philippine movies, rivaled only by Susan Roces. They were using it to prevent the door from slamming. I picked it up and began to read, it was like reading a 1959 version of Sweet Valley High.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

You're Not Dreaming

Yes, I'm cooking in the picture. I took cooking classes. And baking too. At the Center of Culinary Arts, nonetheless.

More about it in the near future.

Boni High in Lomo

A few weeks ago, Lomomanila was commissioned by the Bonifacio Global City to take lomographs of the area for a Lomowall.
This is the result of all those roaming around in Serendra, Boni High Street, and Market! Market! for several days.

If you happen to be in the area, check out the lomowalls near TGI Friday's. And because we like to party:

Friday, May 09, 2008

Love Letter to Big Bird, She Who's Going Away Soon

Dear Big Bird,

We’ve known each other for 10 years and we have seen you grow up (if you can be any taller) and gain weight (you were just bones then), get crushes and fall in love, and now you’re married and moving to a faraway place called Middle Earth to be with Mr. Big Bird.

I remember when you used to go to my room (that glorified bodega where they set up a computer and phone and gave me the key), and tell me about your latest heartaches. We’d analyze conversations, pick it apart, then declare that the subject is a major jerk who is totally not worthy of your time.

So many things have changed since then, you found Troy and he found you and now you’re Mrs. Mariano. Soon you’ll be reproducing, and I find it sad that we won’t get to see you bloated with your ankles all swollen. Seriously, send us pictures so we can still mock you from far away.

If you consider us friends, you will name one your chicks after me.

Thank you for sharing your life with the Gels. Even if we don’t always get to be together often in the office, we all know each other’s secrets (and we will kill you if ratted us out). I wish you all the best life has to offer, and if Troy is ever mean to you call us right away so we can use our visa.

Ok, that’s all because I’m gonna cry now.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Am I the Same Girl?

The only thing constant in this world is change. Having said that, I don't know how to react when a friend told me that I'm not the person he used to know. I write differently, I hang out with different people, and looking at my Friendster pictures, wondered where do I get the time and money to go to those places.

I admit it, I did change. Two years ago I didn't have a life, at least the life I was used to. My routine was home-office-home. I didn't go out with friends, my social life was basically zero, and my social circle was limited to a chosen few. I thought I was fine with it.

Then I got zapped back into full consciousness without anything clouding how I see the world. It was, as if for the first time in a very long time, I got to see what it all really was -- a big joke. It just stopped being funny.

I had to make up for lost time. I met up with people I barely know (now they're a permanent fixture in my life), and gotten back in touch with old friends. I was trying to regain what remained of my old life, but the universe presented me with a new one. The result was better than I had hoped for.

Yes, I write differently. I think I'm less angry and more grounded now. (And of course I can't be all sarcastic and angsty when I write for the paper.) And yeah, I hang out with different people now, not because of anything but for the only reason that they are good persons and have now become good friends.

Besides, my old friends have different lives now. Marriage and children takes so much of their time it would seem so selfish if I suggested we go out for Mojitos. I still love them to bits but our priorities are not the same anymore.

People change. I did, and I like who I've become.

As for all the traveling, I have no explanation for that. That's why I'm poor.