26 December 2013

Lima


Dahil ano pa ba ang maaari nating panghawakan
Kung hindi ang mga taon, mga tao, mga pagkakataon

Na pinagsamahan, na nakasama,
Na pinagdaanan ng sama-sama.

At sa hindi naiwasang paglisan,
Bibilangin sa kamay ang panahong magdadaan.


---
From being scraggy, scraggly high schoolers to being confused yet resolute semi-adults, we have been with each other through the years and have been so used to each other's presence that I, for myself, didn't bother to connect to new people when we separated for college... because I know I have these guys, and they have me. I therefore find it hard to wrap my mind around the idea that one of us will not be as easily reached as always, that he won't be with us during our dinners, our movie night-outs, our out-of-town trips.

Because this is what having your closest friends within one-to-two-kilometer radius of where you live makes you get used to--a sense of constancy, of dependence, of familiarity, of indifference to the changes outside. 

And yet, this is a change that takes place within, so how do we deal? Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe we don't need to. Because what's a handful of years and twelve thousand kilometers, compared to every little and big thing that held us together?

And yes, this is me wishing. This is me hoping. This is me willing the universe to make it so.

22 December 2013

Untitled [11]

"Ender, come see me. China's a beautiful country. More variety inside China than in the rest of the world." 
"I will if I can," said Ender. He didn't have the heart to point out that China was full of human beings, and that the mix of good and bad, strong and weak, courageous and fearful was bound to be about the same as in any other country or culture or civilization... or village, or house, or heart. 
—  Orson Scott Card, Ender in Exile
---
I'm really enjoying this sort-of accidental find of a series. Ender Wiggin is as good a child hero character as it gets. ASA<3!

02 December 2013

patlang

kailangan bang punuan
ang napakaraming patlang
o hayaan na lamang
na wala itong laman?

27 November 2013

Untitled [10]

<That is the tragedy of language, my friend. Those who know each other only through symbolic representations are forced to imagine each other. And because their imagination is imperfect, they are often wrong.> 

<That is the source of their misery.> 

<And some of their strength, I think.>  
—  Orson Scott Card, Xenocide

21 November 2013

Birthday Song


I am not your concern 
The world will still turn
When I'm not around
Rely on me and you'll fall
Backs up to the wall
Someone let me out 
 – The Hush Sound, Not Your Concern

15 November 2013

So much for resilience

"These things happen. We survive, and deal with the damage, with the help of the international community. Along the way, there will be chaos, and infuriating reports of corruption and ineptitude; there will be storms of blame, but we get up and collect ourselves." 
 – Jessica Zafra, When Haiyan Struck

Sometimes I wish the Filipinos aren't so relient. Sometimes I wish the Filipinos don't believe too much that we are resilient. Sometimes I wish we don't adapt to external factors so well. Sometimes I wish we aren't likened to bamboo so strongly that we live up to it unconsciously. Sometimes I wish we don't bow down so easily to powers that be. Sometimes I wish we don't feel so victimized when we become so helpless. Sometimes I wish we stop putting up with the terrible things that befall us. Sometimes I wish we'd just snap and say, "That's it. We've had enough." 

Because how fares the populace that sways as the breeze dictates? Can't we  be represented by a metaphor of a stronger tree that stands firm come winds and hail? 

I've read an opinion piece some weeks ago about how this nation venerates the heroes who died in the hands of the enemies, instead of heroes who fought and defeated the enemies. Why are we so keen on becoming martyrs? Why do we place others so high above us?

I know it's the ultimate sacrifice, to die for the motherland. ("...Ang mamatay ng dahil sa'yo.") But can't we live first? Can't we fight and put the oppressors in their right place? Remain standing, instead of bowing all the time? Can't we go, bitch, please?

It was this bitch, please mode that got me applauding Senator Santiago's questioning of the alleged Pork Barrel Scam mastermind during the Senate probe a week ago. She's like, "Stop making us look so bloody stupid. We're smarter than you're making us out to be. Frickin stop treating us like idiots and give us the truth." It was my frustration, everybody's frustration, that the Senator put into words, into un-patronizing questions, into the grilling.

I wish I could live to see the day when it's the abusers that will tremble at the prospect of doing something wrong to this nation. 

But, right now, even my eight year-old brother is already fed up. "Gusto ko na lang maging dayuhan," in that strange "malalim na Tagalog" of his.

Lo the rant of the baffled and frustrated apathetic patriot with a misplaced sense of nationalism. 

09 November 2013

I miss 2011

Recently I've been thinking about how I miss 2011, heightened the past two weeks with the frequent dinners at Maginhawa St. with friends with whom I spent most of my 2011. 

I miss how I managed to juggle a lot of things that year—org life, thesis, acads that are not thesis, thesis, my part-time job, thesis, internship, extra-curricular activities, family life, thesis, different circles of friends. 

As much as I grumbled how sleep-deprived I was during that time, I do miss the feeling of being so busy that I have to sleep sitting just so I wouldn't end up napping for too long. I miss the sense of purpose, of the excitement in being able accomplish one thing before charging head-on towards another task. I miss being with different groups of people almost everyday. I miss how I observe the friendships I have evolve through the variety of experiences we were able to share.

I miss the walks at midnight in almost-deserted streets with fellow nocturnals. I miss the they're-so-frequent-that-they-became-not-so spontaneous dinners and night-outs. I miss the variety of the things I was learning during the time—the readings, the exams, the papers, the wisdom of my professors. I miss the hint of the emotional roller coaster that almost  never was. 

Better make the coming year as jam-packed as 2011, then. \o/

08 November 2013

don't you know that's okay?


You are broken and callow
Cautious and safe
You are boundless and beauty
With fright in your face
Until someone loves you,
I'll keep you safe
But like them, I will give you away
 
And when you're gone, will they say your name?
And when you're gone, will they love you the same?
If not, that's okay. 
—  The Hush Sound, That's Okay

02 November 2013

the terrifying rarity of truth



As adults will grow and maturity shows
The terrifying rarity of truth,
As you turn to your mind
And your thoughts they rewind,
To old happenings and things that are done 
— Bastille, Haunt

---
Dan Smith, how do you words?

28 October 2013

Questions of the 23 to-be

As my birth month approaches, I am forced to think about the answers to the questions people have been hurtling towards me, whether implicitly or not.

How do I want my life to be measured? A couple of months ago, a handful of employees retired from work simultaneously. Prior to their departure, I would often overhear them talking about the number of years they have worked, how much of this time would get translated to their pensions, retirement incentives, and other benefits. And I was brought to thinking, do I wish my life to be summed up with just a single number? I'm pretty sure they have accomplished things, brought up their respective families successfully, etc. It's just that I feel like that 10, 20, 30 years is such a long time to achieve nothing more than just the ability to say "I stayed this long." I wish to be rewarded for my efforts with something beyond a plaque and a check. Which brings me to the next question, the enigma of my age, my people--

What the hell am I going to do with my life? I know that most young adults are as baffled, as confused as I am now. I'm about to be 23, and yet, I haven't formulated any concrete plan yet. I know I have a not-so-bad job right now, something I considered I could do for some years to come. But every now and then, I get a tug at the back of my brain that seems to say, "You're thinking of staying because it's easy, because it's safe." How many instructional-for-the-twenty-somethings articles have I read that said, go find out what you are really passionate about? How many quotes have I read that said choose a life that is as difficult as it is fulfilling?

Speaking of age--Am I not of age to be in a relationship already? Seriously, the number of people who are insisting that I should be in a relationship is proportional to the amount of irritation I feel when they do it. I have come to call this second-hand frustration because I feel that they are frustrated because I just don't give a rat's arse about it. I think not a day will go by without anybody at the office hinting that I should go out and meet people. I just don't think it's suited for me.

Am I secretly lonely? I admit, people in relationships intrigue me. I am curious to know what it's like to be committed and feel so strongly towards another person. But then, I have an amazing family, incredibly crazy but wonderful friends, so no, I really am not lonely at all. In fact, sometimes I wish I can afford to demand solitude more often.

Where's my own brand of metaphor? I am not lonely. However, I'm more curious about the possibility of having somebody as your source of metaphors. As somebody who is always struck by the beauty of word imagery and still can not, for the life of her, make her own, I am forced to deduce that maybe I am missing out on something that will allow me to find these metaphors. Oh cripes. I don't know what I'm saying. (I am inclined to think, moreover, that saying "Be my metaphor please?" is a romantic way to say you like someone. HAHAHA. I'm sorry.)

Why am I not reading enough books lately? I know, I know. My whole lifetime probably won't be enough to read all the books I want (and need) to read. The feeling of intensely wanting to have read this and that book but not wanting to do the actual reading happened to me more often this year than I'd care to admit. Ahhhh.

Same with writing. Sigh.

27 October 2013

Oh, and Ryro's back

After years, Ryan Ross is finally back to making music. And don't he know people have been waiting for him! I was beside myself when Jon Walker posted something about it. (Jon, you are the best.) Ryan Ross is back. Ryan. Ross. Is. Back.



An excerpt of a review from EAR MILK:

Following the opening instrumental is “Where I Belong (Demo)”, with a Beatles-esque feel like the last Young Veins record. Unlike his work with The Young Veins, this has been cross-pollinated with the aforementioned French house style. Ross’ vocals have an early-McCartney feel to them, and the multi-layered live electric guitars give a richness to the track that often gets lost in modern electronic music. The real standout here isn’t just the musical styling. Lyrically, Ross presents yet another reason why he’s penned three Billboard #1 singles: this is a truly emotionally stirring song. 
Upon closer inspection, the lyrics are axiomatic of the current state of his career - painting a story of self reflection, doubt, and sadness. Despite the sing-a-long nature of the lyrics, it’s clear why Ross decided to lead his career comeback with this song: these are the honest admissions of a man searching for answers, looking back at his transgressions, and admitting he was wrong.

(Upon playing it so many times, I began asking myself in turn, where do I belong, then?)

Ah. My favorite songsmith back to stirring my emotions once more. I'm not complaining. 

26 October 2013

Hullo from the dungeons

What with getting my laptop busted and being under house arrest for a good part of the month due to a cyst that would be removed sometime next week,I wasn't able to accomplish much recently. I wasn't even able to join my friend on our one-week Ilocos tour that I became so distressed. :( (Of all the times that I could be sick,  did it really have to be during the week of the trip that I was so excited about and was meant to be the highlight of my year?)

While at home, I got a head-start on watching (and listening!) to different shows.

Elementary is a US series adaptation of Sherlock Holmes (played by Jonny Lee Miller) set in the modern era. Unlike BBC's immensely popular Sherlock, Elementary finds the world's most famous detective solving cases in New York, with the help of his companion, Joan Watson (Lucy Liu). After the 24-episode first season, I daresay I favor this version more, not only because Watson was elevated to being more than just a sidekick but because the relationship between her and Sherlock was among the most multi-layered, complex, believable, and ultimately the most enjoyable development I have seen unfold. This, and the really great twists and deconstructions of the characters (not the least of them is Miss Hudson being queer) makes Elementary a great show that dared take  the story of Sherlock Holmes to more than just crime-solving. (Gosh, I love Lucy Liu. And Natalie Dormer.)

Horrible Histories is a children's educational show based on the books by Terry Deary. Regardless of its target audience, the show is pure brilliance that can be enjoyed by all ages. As the title suggests, it features the gruesome, bizarre, and more often than not, ridiculous moments and customs from the different peoples and periods in history. With the hilarious sketches, absurdly catchy songs, and modern retelling of various historical anecdotes, it's impossible not to marvel at the genius of the actors and the production crew. I'm still catching up on the fourth season, while the fifth and final season aired this year (what's with shows that end just as I am discovering them?). There's no other way to describe the whole thing other than really awesome. Haha. 

Another awesome stuff that's been occupying my attention lately is the podcast Welcome to Night Vale. Created by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cannor and voiced by the amazing Cecil Baldwin, Welcome to Night Vale is a  free (!) twice-monthly independent podcast that mixes the elements of horror, science fiction, comedy, and even a touch of romance. Told in the format of a community radio show, the horrific events in the desert town of Night Vale are part hilarious in the matter-of-fact and cheeky manner the host, Cecil, tells it, and part disturbing in its existentialist pessimism meanderings. Aside from the supernatural and intriguing events and characters, the show's weather portion features awesome music as well. Seriously, I've made it a personal mission to spread the word about Night Vale so that people will join me in ordering shirts and other products to support and help finance this show. Imagined readers and fellow starers of the void, go give it a listen and learn about Carlos the Scientist, Old Woman Josie and her angels, Dana the Intern, and the awful Desert Bluffs, among others. It's utter brilliance!

I also ended up being in  my annual Hogwarts mode--re-reading the books and watching the movies, even wasting time again at Pottermore. I really have no idea when I will outgrow this. I'm not even sure if I really want to, not with the new material coming with Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the movie which will be written by J.K. herself. 

So yeah, the good lot being stuck at home makes me do. While it is fun and relaxing to stay at home for two weeks, I was almost relieved that I can finally go back to work. :))

13 September 2013

paano ang pag-ibig sa ikatlong daigdig?

[itutuloy]

[Haha]

[This is the title of a poem I've been meaning to write since this year began but I have no idea how I'd proceed. I like how the sentence sounds. Haha. I'll just edit this post once something came up and I get to actually making it a poem. :))]

10 September 2013

It's too early in the morning for this kind of crap

What if the reason I don't want to eat the thing is not because I'm worried about "my figure" and that I'm not "wondering if the opposite sex will still like me?" What if the reason why I don't want to eat the damned thing is because I don't want to eat the damned thing? How about the world not revolving around the approval of the male species? And how about, well, go fuck yourself.

01 September 2013

Betchay-san to Kaoru-kun Monogatari*



One of my favorite things about Instant Mommy, aside from the obvious brilliance of Eugene Domingo, is that it claimed the "romantic comedy" genre and made it its own. Completely and utterly, this movie directed by Leo Abaya veered away from the formula of the romantic comedy films that permeates the country's cinema for the last decade or so.

Cinemalaya should have longer screening dates. It's a good thing this movie's showing when my friend and I were stuck at the mall not knowing what to do because Kick-Ass 2 wasn't available anymore. 


* HAHAHAHAHAHA

30 August 2013

You(r words) are still at the top of my lungs.

(Here's to more.) Happy birthday.

29 August 2013

The fear of falling apart



This is gospel for the fallen ones
Locked away in permanent slumber
Assembling their philosophies
From pieces of broken memories
(This is the beat of my heart)
Their gnashing teeth and criminal tongues
Conspire against the odds
But they haven't seen the best of us yet 
— Panic! at the Disco, This is Gospel
---
Aaah. Brendon and Panic! did it again. I still can't believe it's been five years since Pretty. Odd. (I need to accept that my original Vegas quartet won't be back together anytime soon, or ever.) But I am sure as hell excited for the coming album, if Miss Jackson and This is Gospel are anything to go by. 

24 August 2013

Untitled [09]

During the dinner last night with office mates and a previous intern, it occurred to me how the Rappler article on "Birth Order Personality" proves to be true in my case even out of the family setting. One of the office mates I was with, who was older than me by a handful of years, noticed how I somehow took charge of settling us in at the table. She said that in her group of friends, she is the one being taken care of, so it came naturally to her to let other people mind things. As she noticed it, I suddenly realized that I actually do the thing almost always automatically, even if there are people who are older than me. I guess my "psychological birth order" really does hold true for me in most settings. Of course, in the rare occasion that people other than me take charge, I relish it while it lasts. It's why I always dream of having an ate or a kuya à la Lee Pace as Aaron Tyler in Wonderfalls.  Haha.

22 August 2013

Are you going to leave a path to trace?



Are you going to age with grace?
Are you going to age without mistakes?
Are you going to age with grace?
Only to wake and hide your face?
When oblivion
Is calling out your name
You always take it further
Than I ever can 
— Bastille, Oblivion

16 August 2013

Nine years

god save us every one /  will we burn inside the fires of a thousand suns?

More than once did I look at the ceiling of the Mall of Asia Arena that Tuesday night, wondering if it can handle the almost-a-decade-worth of screaming from the thousands of Linkin Park fans gathered that moment, wondering if the rafters will shake every time Mike Shinoda and Chester Bennington told the frenzied crowd to roar and make some noise

Because when they did, we obeyed, and more. (now what the hell are you waiting for?)

The whole band, Brad, Phoenix, Joe, Rob (fucking Bourdon and his killer drums), Mike and Chester, were as every bit of amazing performers as they have always been in my eyes. The way they sustained that energy for almost two hours was practically superhuman. I almost got dismayed because, wow, everything sounded record-perfect (if not better), and can't there be a little flaw just so I could prove to myself that they're humans? Because wow, that was just... motherfuckingawesome. 

When they entered the stage to being with A Place for My Head, I could already feel a sting in my eyes, because I was that happy and excited to see them perform live. I thought I was going to cry, but there was so much buzz in my body and all I wanted right then and there was scream myself raw and make Linkin Park hear that their songs have been such huge part of my life, that they are such fucking geniuses with rhythm and words, that the chaos and pent-up emotions they have translated into poetry and sound were such a force that have pulled me in right from the start. 

From some of the concerts I've watched of them online, I gathered that LP is a no nonsense band, always straight up to giving electrifying performances non-stop. I was thinking, gods, I wish that the famously loud Philippine crowd will make a mark tonight, make the band see how fervent the Filipinos have been waiting for return since they first came here in 2004. I was waiting and waiting, and I was pleased that in the middle of the concert when probably the majority of the crowd had their ears ringing, Mike called us "a beautiful crowd" and, near the end, heeded the message of the fanproject posters and said, "Promise we'll come back soon."

we say yeah with fists flying up in the air
like we're holding onto something that's invisible there

It's such an unexplainable feeling to be there and have your first ever favorite band perform the songs that you have listened to and sang since you were young. It's equally overwhelming to hear new songs and watch it unfold its effect on the crowd gathered that night. The medley of Leave Out All the Rest, Shadow of the Day, and Iridescent certainly tugged at the heartstrings, as the arena slowly lit up with glow-lights from the people's gadgets, while Chester sang the haunting melody telling us to, "let it go." It was remarkable to be in the middle of such a profound, enchanting moment.

I truly wished I was nearer the stage. (My Stars concert experience disoriented me somehow, making me believe that in the succeeding concerts I will attend, I will always be almost close to touch the stage.) But Linkin Park is Linkin Park, and it's only this band that has made me scream with reckless abandon, not caring about anything in the world, and simply sing the words with the thousands of fellow fans who grew up and changed with the band. 

I remember, some time in college, during that time when I haven't been listening to Linkin Park for a while, I received a text from a high school friend saying, "I'm on a jeepney ride today and a Linkin Park song is playing. I thought of you." That stupid band (ergo amazingawesome) has been that significant a part of my life, despite some people putting them down and belittling my taste. 

As the band closed the adrenaline-pumping performance with Faint, Lying From You, and One Step Closer, I couldn't say if that one night was worth the nine-year wait. 

It is and it isn't.

I don't know. I think I could use another good round of screaming with Mike, Chester, and the rest of LP.

you were that foundation / never gonna be another one, no

12 August 2013

Gone haywire

Between being disgusted by the Pork Barrel Scam and the absurdity of the fact that the perpetrators and backers get away unpunished, Panic! at the Disco announcing the hiatus of its drummer, Spencer Smith, as he battles against drug addiction leaving Brendon Urie the only one in the band from the original quartet, finally being able to meet up with ghei  friends after not seeing each other for more than practically a month, watching Team Gilas Pilipinas valiantly make its way to the FIBA Asia Finals (and consequently, to the FIBA World Cup), being told that the Broadway musical Wicked: The Untold Stories of the Witches of Oz is coming to Manila after a successful online petition, learning that Bastille and Linkin Park performed at the same music festival in Japan and begging the heavens for such a thing to happen again that I can experience, celebrating the birthday of  twin friends while casually evaluating the (more than a) decade-long friendship over cakes, karaoke, and nonchalantly trying to murder each other in the pool and under the mattresses (haha, really), clutching my heart as Team Pilipinas succumb to a loss against Iran and settle for the silver, and realizing that the awaited Linkin Park concert for which I will fight tooth and nail against anybody and anything that will keep me from attending is just another night of sleep away, I am a scatterbrained heap of incredulity and giddiness and anticipation and just – nerves

08 August 2013

UPCAT Musings

I accompanied my sister last Sunday to UP for her college admission test. Needless to say, she was pressured, both from the expectation of the family and probably her own self. It felt like so much is at stake on the result of that exam and no preparation will be enough. 

I seriously can't remember much of my own UPCAT experience. I do remember that I went with a handful of my high school classmates to the campus, but we separated ways since we had different testing venues. It wasn't dawn yet when we arrived. I have no recollection of the questions either, not one, at all. I just remember eating only one of the three sandwiches I brought, and subsisting on candy and anxiety. I do know that I wanted to pass, that I wanted to study in UP.

The Gate(s) of Mordor
Would I be as anxious if I were in the same situation? Probably.

UP is not as fancy as the universities in my fiction fantasies – no scenic coastlines, no cathedral ruins, no castle chambers as classrooms, no Scottish pubs, no fancy and elaborate traditions and customs. But it's the university that is as familiar as the back of my hands. It is home.

My social ineptitude has probably hindered me from maximizing my UP experience, but I know that I am content at observing the vibrant student life take place. I have learned that I know so little, that I have a long way to go. UP life taught me patience, taught me how to look at the bigger picture. It robbed me of sleep, of my sense of self-worth when everything became so overwhelming. It taught me to fend for myself, to be able to make things work no matter how dire the situation. 

I have this image of UP reluctantly taking me in its arms. Touch move. For both ends.

I still doubt if I truly deserved being under Oble's wing, but the experience has given me so much pride, and yet has been thoroughly humbling. It's the institution that I'm still trying to fully comprehend but respect beyond words. 

It has its way of getting under one's skin, almost certainly permanently taking hold. 

06 August 2013

Untitled [08]

but
will you ever let me in?
right through the hedge,
and past the crimson
picket fence
you've etched
upon your skin?

28 July 2013

The Grand Inventory Day


I've always had a penchant for storing keepsakes, causing my red-and-blue box of memories to overflow for years now. Throughout high school, it's been filled with mementos–those craft-ish letters and cards high school students can't seem to get enough of (the more it deviates from the traditional sheet-of-paper-inside-an-envelope format, the better), flower petals, charms, puzzle pieces, scribbled-on table napkins, flyers, notes inside small bottle jars and nets, graduation pictures.

Even as I entered college, my collection of mementos grew. Class cards (before they slipped away from the computerized registration consciousness), ID's, letters I didn't think would exist in college, receipts, doodles by seatmates while waiting for professors, paper wrappers of gifts, bottle caps from night-outs I deemed must not be forgotten, personalized coaster. 

Additionally, my planners for the past few years serve dual purpose. One is to keep me on track of dates, another is to be a place where I keep my stash of seemingly pointless souvenirs–movie tickets, theater tickets, concert tickets, bus tickets, Form 5's, community tax certificates, library cards, loyalty cards, business cards, disembodied journal pages...

Not only is this habit limited to tangible things. Often, I even plan my online presence (and the posts I make) with the goal of making sure that I will be able to look back at it, sometime in the future.

It this this as yet undefined time of finally unearthing the contents of the chock-full containers that prompts me to stash away fragments of evidences of a life in progress–evidences proving to myself that this present time happened, that I've been in this place with these people, that I heard this with my own ears, that I witnessed this happen, that at one point, I felt and underwent things I wouldn't have had I not stepped up, had I not dared. 

It's not so much as clinging to the past as assuring myself that my future self will be reminded that I filled up my years with good company and good (and not-always-good) experiences. I know an absurd amount of keepsakes doesn't determine a good life lived, but for now, it is my assurance. 

Until that day that I find the time to sit down and go over each bit of memory I've collected, or until I find the confidence that I am enough a proof of a fulfilled existence, I will count on the little things I tuck away that remind me of what was and will be. 

10 July 2013

The Adventures of the Pie-Maker and His Friends

Pushing Daisies (Season 1, 2007)
© 2007/ ABC / The Jinks/ Cohen Company/ Living Dead Guy Productions/ Pushing Daisies Show Partners

I have been meaning to watch Pushing Daisies because I've learned that it was written and created by Bryan Fuller, the writer whose genius is manifested in the recently concluded first season of NBC's Hannibal. What prompted it to jump up to the top of my priority list is learning that Lee Pace is the lead of the show, where he plays Ned the Pie-Maker.

The series revolves around Ned's ability to bring dead things back to life for a minute without any repercussions. Any second longer than that, something or someone else has to die. His first touch brings life, and the second touch brings death again, permanently. With an affinity for baking that he got from his mother, Ned grows up to become the owner of The Pie Hole, with the help of his waitress who harbors affection for him, Olive Snook (Kristin Chenoweth). Accidentally learning of Ned's ability to bring the dead back to life, private investigator Emerson Cod (Chi McBride) suggests a partnership where Cod finds murder victims whose deaths Ned will solve using his special gift, and the reward money split between the two of them. Things have fallen into a routine when one day Ned learns of the murder of his childhood sweetheart, Charlotte "Chuck" Charles (Anna Friel). Remembering the young girl he used to know from his hometown of "Couer d'Couers," Ned makes a choice concerning Chuck's life and death, the consequences of which will turn his and his friend's worlds upside down.

Quirky, funny, exciting and heartwarming when it wants to, Pushing Daisies is an enjoyable series disarming viewers with its colorful visual style, snappy dialogues, clever wordplay, likable characters, and intriguing overall scheme of "forensic fairy tale." Indeed, this show is a refreshing kind of comedy, with drama and romance on the side, and the amazing cast managed to capture the larger than life premise of the show as well as the endearing personal connections between the characters. Ned and Chuck are a delight to watch, especially when facing the unusual nuances of their relationship. I also like how Olive and Chuck were not put against each other as typical vicious rivals over a man, and that their characters, especially Olive's, did not fall into shallow stereotypes. 

I've yet to see the whole of the second season but I'm saddened all over that it got cancelled so abruptly. I really wish the Pushing Daisies Movie Bryan Fuller talks about will come into fruition soon. It will be amazing to see Ned, Chuck, Emerson, Olive, as well as Aunts Lily and Vivian again, and wrap the story up as splendidly as it had begun.

Besides, Ned the Pie-Maker gives me life right now. (See what I did there. Haha.)

03 July 2013

Strange Pair

The Fall (2006)

Like Alexandria, played by Catinca Untaru, I stumbled upon The Fall by curiosity, and ended up being captivated by and emotionally-invested on it, so easily and so deeply. Just as Alexandria became awed with Roy Walker's storytelling, played by Lee Pace, I became drawn by this 2006 epic adventure concocted by Tarsem Singh. 

Set in the 1920s in a hospital somewhere in Los Angeles, Alexandria, a highly-spirited five year-old, meets Roy Walker, a stunt man injured from his first foray in the movies. Wanting nothing more than hearing an interesting tale to feed her imagination during her stay while her arm mends, Alexandria befriends Roy. Listening to Roy, Alexandria dreams up a fantasy of revenge, courage, sacrifice, and ultimately, love. The characters they create travel through the world, braving dangers, and motivated by a common goal: to defeat the villain, Governor Odious. With dazzling landscapes as backdrop and elaborate costumes, the world of the Masked Bandit and his companions is indeed like every child's dream.

© 2006 Googly Films / TARSEM/ The Fall Film Partners

And like every child's dream, the film is ambitious, biased, disjointed, sentimental, and charming. Although it was Roy who is telling the story, it is Alexandria's utter fascination that propels the story forward, and it is evident in the way the plot unfolded and showed. With its expansive scenery shot in around 20 countries, its stunning cinematography and musical score, the film is a visual spectacle. 

But for all of The Fall's grandiosity, the most tender and beautiful moments took place in the confines of the hospital, between Alexandria and Roy. The biggest draw for me was the relationship of the two leads. Pace and Untaru connected and it simply showed. Six year-old Untaru's endearing innocence paired with Pace's stellar portrayal of Roy Walker's shattering resolve in life makes for the most personal and heartwarming scenes I've watched in ages, especially after learning that practically all of Catinca's hospital lines were as real and unscripted as can be.

Virtually every frame in The Fall is mesmerizing, and Tarsem is indeed an auteur for not allowing any aspect to be compromised for a film as big this. The film's one defining trait is its telling of two intertwined stories, one so incredibly fantastic that pushed the possibilities of film-making, the other so deeply human and personal, and would never have worked had Pace and Untaru failed to establish that special authentic connection. 

Tarsem managed to capture these and translate them into the screen. Indeed, The Fall is an apt tribute to the flickers that Roy made and Alexandria loved.  

01 July 2013

Words are all we have



You lean towards despair
Any given opportunity you're there
But what is there to gain?
When you're always falling off the fence that way.
— Bastille, Overjoyed 

28 June 2013

What do I do when I get lonely? What do I do?



The world wont listen to this song
And the radio wont play it
But if you like it sing along
Sing 'cause you don't know how to say it  
— Stars, Hold On When You Get Love And Let Go When You Give It 

18 June 2013

Sometimes, I'd ask the empty air,

"Oble, are you proud of me now? Or will I make you proud at all, ever?"

Happy birthday, UP.

17 June 2013

Retail Therapy

My latest hoard

I was supposed to buy books to give to the interns but I ended up buying them for myself. Their presence on my shelf makes me feel a little less shitty these days.

Yes, I still buy Sidney Sheldon books when I can, if only to tick them off my bucket list. I won't say I don't like him anymore, claim that "it was just a phase." I owe the man quite a lot, and I did enjoy his books for what they're worth. Back when I was still in high school and trying out new things to read, my highly-impressionable teen self looked up to his heroines.

And yes, I am (still) a sucker for YA books.

14 June 2013

Untitled [07]

Perhaps it is indeed time I began to look at this whole matter of bantering more enthusiastically. After all, when one thinks about it, it is not such a foolish thing to indulge in--particularly if it is the case that in bantering lies the key to human warmth.  
-- Kazuo Ishiguro, The Remains of the Day

07 June 2013

I'm too emo for my own good

You know that feeling of just being plain tired of doing everything in your capacity to help and be useful to everyone and all the time, tired from all the burden heaped on you that you just want to sleep and sleep until somebody else decides to take over because nofuckingone ever thought of helping you while you're doing your best to take everything in stride, until you suddenly can't.

Or that feeling of heaviness of not being to tell anybody about the cause of your sullenness underneath the facade of being perfectly just fine, that you think it's just too cumbersome to explain things even to the closest of your friends and they probably wouldn't get it anyway, and no one probably will, that feeling of wanting to drag out the proper words--straight, direct, unapologetic--out from your throat and out of your lips, and you'd realize it just doesn't matter, it's simply not enough for them to care or understand, not enough for you to bother explaining, and then you don't.

Or maybe of that sense of feeling terrible because you feel like you've been too full of yourself, that you're just making a fuss out of the littlest of things (no matter how many of them have been heaped upon you over time), of feeling that your negative thoughts are being channeled to the people around you because you're such a (silent) bitchy (internally) whiny person, no matter how quiet and expressionless you try to be when you feel overwhelmed by everything, and you want to even out your emotions and reasoning, but you can't, not anymore.

Or that feeling of being just empty, like you've been stretched yourself thin and far, that you always have to be the one to give, understand, compromise, be the dependable one, that you have to be somebody stronger and more capable than you are, that feeling of giving everything you have to be the image of you constructed by everybody else that you almost feel you have nothing left of you for yourself.

And you want things to be better, to demand less (nothing) from people while you give everything you can, to feel that you're actually allocating your efforts for things that will make you be what you needed and wanted to be, to go beyond yourself.

But you can't. And you're just tired and empty that you've given in to tears. And you hate yourself for being so weak.

28 May 2013

Untitled [06]

J: So if Garamond and Georgia are like Rustan's and other high-end department stores, then Calibri is like...
Me: SM?
J: Yeah. Something like that. Garamond and Georgia are okay.
Me: I like Georgia. A lot.
J: And Cambria, too.
Me: My blog's in Cambria.
J: It's like a modified Georgia.
Me: Like a flowy Georgia. Or Georgia and Garamond combined.
J: Yeah.
Me:
J:
Me:
J:
Me: That was geeky.
J: It is geeky. Namiss mo 'ko, no? 

18 May 2013

Cure For the Itch*

The topic of speaking in the next graduation ceremony of my high school was brought up again at dinner last night. Apparently, one of the school officials was insistent on having me as guest of honor after learning that I have actually graduated from college last year with some sort of sprinkles. The first time I heard it, I vehemently refused and referred another batch-mate who, by all intents and purposes, is more appropriate and respectable for such an honor. Aside from the fact that it will be my sister's graduation ceremony I'll be making awkward by my presence, I really do not think I deserve that privilege to give unsolicited advice to a bunch of still highly-impressionable young adults.

Because aside from managing to obtain a degree from the University, I really do not have anything I could be proud of for the past year. Really, introducing a speaker with a litany of achievements is some sort of a requirement for a successful speech. Meanwhile, here I am, drifting here and there, without a clear goal in mind yet. No impressive credentials to add to my name at all. That kind of poses a disappointment for the graduates on their special day, methinks.

But I can't help but imagine what I could tell those kids, who are in varying degrees of confusion and excitement. Maybe if I stand there at the podium, I will look at the faces staring at me and see the reflection of own self from seven years ago, and tell them, "It's all uphill from here. Go back and hide under your mothers' skirts if you don't plan on tackling it head-on." Maybe I will tell them that it's okay to feel conflicted between what is practical and what is ideal, it is how they act on their choice that will determine whether they're making progress or not.

Right. Maybe I will tell them that earning an occasional singko is not so bad, it might actually be the catalyst they've been needing from the start. Maybe, pursuing a "pwede na" field is just as good as taking the road to the career you've been dreaming of since you were seven. The thing is, get your ass out there and do something. Inspiration doesn't strike the idle, I've been told. It comes to people who, despite failing, continue being hard at work. JK Rowling said (maybe I'll reward the first person to tell me who JK Rowling is), “It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all--in which case, you fail by default.”

I'll tell them adulthood is not what they've imagined when they were still in the safe confines of school. Maybe I still don't know much about it but I'm pretty sure it's not falling in love into perfect relationships and driving fancy cars and earning loads of bucks in a jiffy. It's taking over the responsibilities you have been blissfully unaware of when you were young; it's taking your place in the society where you struggle against yourself and the people around you. 

Maybe I'll ask them who reads. And maybe I'll refuse to go on if nobody raises a hand, and they will be glad to see me go. Haha. Continuing, maybe I'll encourage them to read, not because they can become kings and knights and presidents and princesses and pirates and rockstars and dragonriders, but because when the dreary reality of life made of routines and bills and frustration and cheap food and obnoxious people, they will have something to fall back on. I will not tell them to completely detest reality. Hell, the world is so full of exciting things, nobody has the right to say he's bored. There are really just times when you need a detached reprieve.

Maybe I will tell them what I wish I have heard when I was 16 and jittery about taking the next step in my life. Maybe I'll confess to them that I am as lost as most of them are. But we'll get by. We'll deal. 

I really couldn't imagine myself advising high school graduates about life, not by 2014. Maybe by 2015 I'd have made so many blunders I could share an anecdote or two. Who knows.


*Apologies to Linkin Park

13 May 2013

Getting Comic

A couple of months ago, I saw the first issue of Kwentillion in a bookstore, a magazine featuring young adult literature pieces and an anthology of original short comic stories. Featuring familiar names of comic artists I have come to respect, I immediately bought my copy. It was a milestone in the publication industry, and I truly hope this first issue will not be the last. Also last week, I finally saw the premiere issue of Trese, the detective/horror/crime comic series I have always meant to begin reading but couldn't find the first issue in the bookstores I usually visit. Maybe I haven't been looking well enough, but needless to say, it was an important buy and just in time for the coming convention I will attend this June.

These recent buys made me remember the feature I wrote two years ago during my internship. I just did a man on the street interview with the comic artists present during the Comic-con last May 2011 and got fortunate that I got to talk to some of the biggest names in the industry.

---
Artists share their two cents on the local comics scene
May 2011

What many popular culture historians dubbed as the Philippine comics industry’s Golden Age has been since decades ago. However, the local comics scene is gaining momentum once more due in part to the recognition of the craft of Pinoy artists abroad working for popular international publishers, but more so due to the rich pool of talent of our local artists.

Despite competition from their foreign (and immensely more prevalent) counterparts, as well as from other forms of entertainment, our komikeros continue to create comic stories that are closer to home. They continue to tell stories about our culture, about our own dreams, about ourselves.

Three of these Pinoy comic writers and artists gave a few words about their craft and their advice to the hopefuls.

Going for it

Photo by Alea Gomez
Budjette Tan describes himself as a “copywriter by day, comic book writer by night.” He is the writer behind the comic series Alamat, Batch 72, and Underpass.

Collecting comic books since grade school, Tan has always dreamed to be in the comics industry. His latest project is Trese, a horror/crime comic series, with Kajo Baldisimo (Alamat, Defuser, Starwars) as the artist. Trese, according to Tan, is his most favorite work so far. “People seem to be happy with it, and I am, too,” he said.

As a writer, Tan would like to work with artists like Carlo Vergara (Zsazsa Zaturnnah), Gerry Alanguilan (Wasted, ELMER), and all the many Pinoy artists here and in the United States. He dreams of writing more stories “that can reach more people here in the country and the world.”

The Filipino talent in comics is undeniable. For Tan, aspiring artists should not be discouraged. “Whether writing or drawing, nothing should stop them. We're in the best time now to create comics. You can self-publish them online as webcomics, or have them photocopied. There are no excuses,” he advised.

For more of Budjette Tan’s work, visit tresekomix.blogspot.com.

Keeping it humble

Photo by Alea Gomez
Gilbert Monsanto is an illustrator noted for his work in Hazard, Hellcop, and the 2003 revival of Darna, among others.

Monsanto’s latest endeavor is the comic series Bayan Knights. For him, it is the most remarkable work in his career as a comic artist, both in its goal of pioneering the superhero comic scene in the country and of helping fellow Filipino artists.

Bayan Knights is a comic book project featuring the superheroes created by artists from an online art community. By publishing these characters, the artists’ works become copyrighted and protected.

Despite already being an accomplished artist, Monsanto strives to be better by creating more memorable characters “at makatulong sa bagong mga comic artists tulad ng ginagawa ko ngayon sa Bayan Knights (and helping new comic artists like what I’ve been doing in Bayan Knights).”

Monsanto has been inspired by the comics since childhood, and has worked his way up to become a top caliber artist of the country. He advised aspiring illustrators to go out and discover the art as well as people. “(Dapat silang) makakilala ng mga taong makakatulong sa kanila. (They should get to know people who can help them.) Go for people they can work with, at hindi lang sarili (and not work by themselves alone),” Monsanto said.

For more of Gilbert Monsanto’s work, visit bayanknights.com

Taking it to greater heights

Gerry Alanguilan is another prolific Pinoy comic artist who created Wasted, Johnny Balbona, Humanis Rex!, and ELMER, among others. He also worked in DC Comics and Marvel in the United States.

Unlike the two previous artists, Alanguilan did not consider being a comic artist when he was still a kid. According to him, he had many various dreams, but “drawing comics was a hobby for a long time. Hindi ako naniwala na pwede akong maging comic artist. (I did not believe that I could be a comic artist.)” He held the profession in high regard since childhood and believed that “magagaling na tao lang ang pwedeng maging comic artist. (Only outstanding people can become comic artists.)”

As proven by his numerous accomplishments in the field, he has become an outstanding artist himself and has made a name as one of the top Pinoy comic artists of this generation. This may be attributed to his relentless drive to create better works.

 Even with a lot of achievements to his credit, Alanguilan says, “Hindi pa ‘ko masaya. Hindi pa ako kuntento. (I’m not yet happy. I’m not yet satisfied.) Even if I’m happy with my previous works, gusto kong gumawa ng mas maganda pa (I want to create something better). I keep moving on.”

This attitude is what he wants to share to young hopeful artists. “You can’t afford to be half-hearted. Either bigay na bigay or wag na lang. (Either you give it your all or none at all),” Alanguilan added.

For more of Gerry Alanguilan’s work, visit komikero.com.

---
I wish I could write a more in-depth piece on this topic, if circumstances permit. Anyhow, I'm excited for the coming con!

12 May 2013

Naglahong lugami at hapo

It's pretty absurd how I felt so tired and let down this past couple of days, the past week even. But it was amazing how a dinner and a catch-up with a friend you haven't seen for the past half year would make all the sore feelings, physical and emotional, go away.

I had been feeling tired having begun my day early in the morning last Saturday, spending the afternoon trying to accommodate people's demands and whims. Disappointment and fatigue just took me over by turns that I felt so damn frustrated and angry towards the people I know I'm supposed to be caring and forgiving towards. But that day, I just felt so irrationally sad. I think I'm being overly sensitive now because I have been too compromising for so long.

Satisfying the craving for fries and ice cream didn't even help. Luckily, a couple of friends had that night free when I asked them. When I try to wrap my head around the time we have been friends, I am amazed to realize that we've known each other for barely three years, and one of them I haven't seen for the last six months. But that night, we had steaks and salmon at this new diner we tried, and over tea, we took our sweet time of catching-up with each other's lives. That day went from being so thoroughly draining and frustrating to being immensely nostalgic and gratifying.

08 May 2013

The thing about firsts


The thing about first obsession love is that nothing could ever take its place of being the very thing that introduced you to that realm where it belongs. Despite the countless other fascinations that succeeded it, when it decides to sucker punch you again right in the kokoro, these others will have to give way just so you can get back together with that un amour de jeunesse.

Basically this post is just me haplessly squealing because I had just learned that Linkin Park is definitely coming back to Manila nine years after I hadn't been able to watch them when they came here for their Meteora Tour. (I can't believe I missed it either. I was 13 and lost. Meteora, self, really? )

ANYHOO

OHMYGOD. I really just... I'm so overwhelmed. Haha. I almost burst into tears when this status appeared on my newsfeed, wow. Thank you, heavens, for this. 

AUGUST 13 IT IS, THEN. See you, motherfuckers.

01 May 2013

2013 April 20


Kids these days don't seem to take much interest in books. I myself am in the middle of a crusade to make my little brother discover the joy of reading. I don't know if this is going well. It's therefore really rare and special to me to see this kid slumped on the floor between shelves in a bookstore, perusing books all by himself.

26 April 2013

How do you words?



I recently discovered this wondrous side of the Internet that has spoken word poetry videos. It's so novel to me (yeah, I know, I'm so late to the party)  how huge the difference of the impact is when words on the page get translated and interpreted on stage. As Sarah Kay had said, there are really some poetry that cry out to be performed with voice, and the distinct energy of the theater/stage does give so much more life and meaning and perspective to these pieces.

I've always known I'm never cut up for the performing arts, really. I can't say I've really tried giving it my all, but being in front of people takes me at my wits' end. But maybe, just maybe, I could get to crafting pieces as moving and as inspiring as Sarah's, and her partner-in-crime, Phil Kaye's. Or maybe, just enough to make me feel less unsure about myself and the things around me. 

If that didn't blow you away, I don't know what will.

One thing watching these brilliant young minds did is stir some fervent desire in me to just keep writing. Most of the time these days, I feel so unresolved and unmotivated. Even until today, I don't know what it is that I ultimately want to do, whether for a lifelong career or personal craft. I'm just sure that it has something to do with stringing words together. I just had this sudden comforting thought that I could always look up to spoken word poets and be amazed at their sheer passion for the art as well as for provoking thought and discussion. Until then, perhaps I could just keep scribbling away into my notebook, willing the right words to free themselves from my messy head.

19 April 2013

So, please tell me, descendants of the babaylan,

... when a woman has decided for herself to choose somebody else over someone she had been with, is that a fault? Does anybody outside the relationship have the right to judge her for her decision? 

I really do not usually care about celebrities and the petty issues about them that gets blown up in the media, but this recent flak a beauty queen, a woman, receives is so representative of the double standards of this society, that I had to pull my thoughts about it together. Even the supposed thinking public over at the social media sites, where discussion is paramount, has ganged up on a woman because she frickin chose someone else she thinks is better for her. Even if the replacement is going to prove to be a poor choice, I firmly believe that's entirely for her to decide.

This brings back to mind something I read some months ago about the "sympathetic friendzoned guy" figure. When he gets rejected and/or left by the woman, she is wrong and her decision needs to be justified. Because, how dare you reject someone who likes you just because you don't like him back, right? But when a woman gets rejected, the general consensus towards her will be she's simply not good enough, she just has to deal with it.

What if it's the guy who caught the attention of a famous international female personality, some gorgeous and coveted Hollywood leading lady? Will he be receiving this obnoxious treatment over the cyberspace? Is he going to be considered a slut? What if he chose this new woman over her former partner? Will the society find the fault in him? Of course not. Instead, he'd be the hero. Yeah, bro, leave her behind, she's not that pretty anyway. Go for the gold, man! 

Misogyny makes my skin crawl. Too much hypocrisy for a society priding itself for having a high regard for women. 

And in the first place, I ask again, does anybody outside the relationship have the right to judge her for her decision? Get your ass out there and mind your own frickin business, people. Yes, I am angry. :\

17 April 2013

I pretend I can take cosplay pictures :))

14 April 2013
Kuu as Susanna Hopkins from Genshiken 


Yes, she likes reading. :))


Hi, Kuu. I dunno what just happened. XD

16 April 2013

Philippine Veterans Week 2013

Araw ng Kagitingan, Mt. Samat Shrine
Pilar, Bataan, 09 April 2013








Paggunita sa Capas, Capas National Shrine
Capas, Tarlac, 10 April 2013