ASFD:LSAHLKHJDFS;!!1! just got real

At the screening of the Cinemalaya entry "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank" today at the UP Film Institute, my friends and I had the amazing fortune of being stuck inside the rest room with no less than the star of the movie herself, Ms. Eugene Domingo. And it wasn't just once but twice.

The first one was before the movie began, and another after the movie and the "press conference" ended. She was even with her friend, John "Sweet" Lapus, during the latter, because they were being harangued at the exit. It was quite an experience--at one moment you were chatting with your friends inside the toilet, and then the next your eyes bulging because of being in such a close proximity with one of your favorite artists. And just after seeing her movie and witnessing her intelligence during the question and answer at that!

My friends were I were actually spazzing but we couldn't flail because we don't want to embarass ourselves in front of Ms. Eugene. And none of us even had a camera! We were so unnerved that we didn't know what to do. I think Ms. Eugene and Sweet thought we wanted to go out already but couldn't because of the cameras and the people just outside the door. In truth, though, we wanted to stay and do something--take a picture with them or have their autographs. And so, probably sensing our unease, Sweet said not to worry, we could go outside already. When we opened the door, there was indeed a throng of people and cameras with their lights on. They were probably disappointed to see a group of girls instead of the star of the movie they had just seen. With our heads bowed and still not believing our luck, we hurried outside the theater.

The movie, by the way, was definitely amazing on so many levels. It was so wrought with meanings and it definitely deserves all the awards!

A great movie and encounters with Ms. Eugene (at the restroom), both shared with friends--today is definitely an awesome day.

Random re-realization

I am so blessed with my parents.


Belated happy birthday, Ama! <3
Advanced happy birthday, Ina! <3


Because their birth-dates are only ten days and two years apart. :))

'Shall we change that we can't fly and go?'

That moment when Sakurai Sho plays Hatenai Sora on the piano so beautifully and I couldn't be any prouder.

Arashi currently serves as my reprieve as I tackle this unbelievable amount of stress and work--from Macroeconomics to travel writing articles to readings and papers for Linguistic Anthro to thesis proposal, and everything else in between.

A Letter Unsent [03]: To the girl with many stories

To the girl with many stories,

Over chicken nuggets, half-assed burgers, fries and sundaes inside the fastfood joint near our workplace, I listened to your many tales as I racked my mind for some to tell you in response. It had become a weekly ritual for us. We grab a bite after our shift and catch-up on the week that was. After this midnight meal, I would sit beside you on the sidewalk and wait for you to finish smoking a stick or two. We would then head back to the quarters, and talk for a couple more hours.

I think it's pretty amazing that we have become this comfortable with one another. You seemed so aloof when I first met you, not to mention stunning and confident. In fact, I think we're kind of at the opposite ends of the personality spectrum. I am old-fashioned and conscientious as hell while you seemed to be unmindfully living in your own world and all I wanted then was to talk to you about a mutual interest.

Was it the bus ride to the first event we attended together that made us click? Or was it the Christmas drinking party held in one of our teammate's place? You know I am not the type to take the first step when it comes to talking and befriending new people, and I am so glad you were a natural story-teller.

One time you asked me to accompany you somewhere inside the university where I'm studying. We ate lunch together and I was secretly proud then that my college-mates saw me hanging around with a pretty girl with flowing auburn hair. Over pasta, you told me stories--stories I never knew I'd get to hear first-hand, stories I never knew could happen to people I actually know of.

You might not have realized it but I was and still am overwhelmed with the trust you had for me as you told me about your anime recommendations, your opinion on the vocalist of a band we both love, the tales of your troubled years, your search for independence, your deep-rooted motives to prove yourself to your relatives and to the people around you, your frustrations on the people you are constantly with, your unrequited efforts for the person of your affection, your earnest desire and plans to be the daughter your parents would be proud of...

Time and again, you have proved to me that this society's prejudices are wrong more often than not. You embody this nonconforming individuality I had a hard time getting used to. But I eventually did (I hope) and I guess it's thanks to you that I have become more open-minded about how extremely different people can be from those I normally see and interact with.

You are indeed different from anybody else I know of. You almost always have a different way of seeing things, and most of the time you catch me by surprise with your opinions and manner of handling situations. Always, I look forward to listening to your stories and even if it's just the two of us together, we never run out of things to talk about. I remember trying to understand and respond to what you were telling me even in my half-asleep state at past three in the morning. Yes, you were that loquacious. Haha.

Deeply engrossed in conversations in the office after work, in your apartment with a few other friends, over a few drinks and the smoke from your cigarettes, inside movie theaters, on the streets to a convenience store to buy ice cream and coffee or on the way home late at night, or anywhere else we find ourselves together, we barely notice time passing us by. I even get to share with you thoughts I would not normally tell my other friends, and your way of thinking prompts me to reconsider my views on people, relationships, and life in general.

You have been always eager to share bits and pieces about the day you had or your thoughts on various things. I know you're smart but you sometimes make me worry that you could let your emotions get the better of you. Sometimes, you're like the wise old hermit I listen to and learn from. On other times, I wish I could just hit you on the head and make you realize things. Either way, we never fail to share stories whenever we can and it amazes me how much we have become a part of each others' lives.

I actually did not expect to be so engrossed in a stranger's life until I knew you. It's just a little over a year since we've been introduced and only months since we really became friends in the word's deeper sense. The thought of you leaving scares me even if I know you are bound to. (Well, we both are, actually.) You know I hate mushy stuff, and I just couldn't put it straight to the point that I don't want you to go as you plan. That's why I keep suggesting things you could possibly do here even if they're harder to accomplish instead of going back to where you're from which is more feasible and ultimately practical. I fervently hope it's not yet anytime soon and that your refusal to tell us exactly when is a sign that you're also having second thoughts.

We still do meet inside and outside work but a change of schedule and rules had disabled us to have our weekly ritual. Your shift now ends a couple of hours earlier so you usually go straight back to your apartment, while I go out and eat with a handful of our other teammates whose shifts end at the same time as mine.

However, no matter how fun and comfortable the others are to be with, I always prefer the relatively sedate midnight conversations we used to have as we traversed the utterly familiar street, leading us to our weekly dose of chicken nuggets, half-assed burgers, fries and hot fudge sundaes.

A Potterhead reflects, laments, rejoices

Last week, I decided to start re-watching all of the seven Harry Potter movies. In a month, the second part of the final installment will be released, and it would mean the ultimate end of the phenomenal series. There would be no more books nor films to look forward to anymore.

I don't think I am the only one in this kind of pinch--wanting to relieve and cling onto the past decade of magic, bravery and kindness, and at the same time dying to see the glorious end of the fantastic story we have followed since we were kids.

 I can not call myself the biggest Potter fan, but J.K Rowling's masterpiece had affected me in more ways than one. The series had rekindled my love for books, made me stay up until the wee hours of the early morning, created a venue for conversation with my friends. I clung on to each and every word, to every peculiar British expression, to every archaic- (and Latin-) sounding magical spell, to the excitingly different renditions of different familiar fictional creatures, to the fascinating characters as they made me care about their losses, triumphs, their (sometimes feeble attempts at) jokes, their peculiarities.

The adventures at and beyond Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry showed me just how boundless true friendships really are, how kindness comes in different sizes and appearances, how love can conquer the most difficult of odds, even death, how to accept tragic losses and keep level-headed in times of triumph, how to stand up against the powers that be, how to ward off nargles, among so many others.

 I am a part of the Potter generation and there's no use denying it. I was 11 when the first movie came out, and I could say that I have stuck with Harry until the very end, just as Ron and Hermione were constantly there for him even in the face of death. We are the generation that grew up looking up to the wisdom of Professor Dumbledore and cracking jokes along the lines of Fred and George Weasley. We have seen Luna not as a crazy teenage girl but as a dependable friend with a firm set of beliefs. Like the rest of the Wizarding World, we were scared of and awed with the power Voldemort held in his hands. We are taught to be in constance vigilance by Mad-Eye Moody, always on guard for surreptitious malevolence, and always prepared to do what's right.

 The books are a wonder to read. Rowling made it possible to turn everything we in the Muggle world deem as ordinary to magical. I have had my dose of laughter from her witty remarks and snides. My eyes welled up as she painted touching and heartbreaking scenes. I adore how she alluded to the real-world issues by way of characterizations and plot archs--Oh, Rita Skeeter! Oh, Dolores Umbridge! Oh, Ministry of Magic! And as an aspirant writer, I believe one of Rowling's greatest achievements from the series is her creation of fantastic settings--a world so different from our own, a world we want to be a part of, yet so familiar, so easy to understand.

This wondrous alternative world we got to see in the films, as the words and pages become cinematic elements combined to produce complete audio-visual experiences. As separate works of art, the film adaptations and the novels are different and comparing them is pointless. For me personally, the movies and the books are co-existent. It is hard for me to read the books and not imagine the Gryffindor common room as seen in the movies, or dissociate Rupert Grint from the character of Ron Weasley.

 Come July, Potter fans all over the world will prolly think so, too. We might have read about the end of the series already, for the first time almost four years ago. But within those four years, there were still the movies we go to the theaters for. It would would be a lot different this time. This will be the last time the cast, which we have come to associate with the characters we felt strongly about, would come together in the amazing world of wizards and Muggles alike.

I therefore think the screening of the second part Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is an event of a generation. We will hop on to platform nine and three quarters for the last time (and in my case, with a heavy heart). Along with the billowing smoke and the scarlet blur of the Hogwarts Express train speeding away, we shall send off the magical experiences of our childhood, waiting to be rediscovered.

And in between bouts of nostalgia, we live the lives outside the safe and guarded walls of the castle we know we could always go home to.