chasing poetry

It is Mother's Birthday

2009-08-09T09:19:00.003+07:00

... and I am having a terribly difficult time finding a stupid e-card to send to her.

I am really not feeling the "Happy birthday!" In fact, I do not even want to speak to her. My lame-ass online greeting card will be IT from me, and I can't even find a decent one to send.

There are a lot of cute and funny ones online, but they do not "suit" her ... They are "too much," masyado maganda. Isn't that such a weird thing to say, a mean thing to say? But it is true.

It has been years now, but still, just the thought of her (and the thought of having to deal with her) makes me tired.

Ira asked me the other night, "Don't you miss her?" "I miss the idea of having a mother, but I don't miss her."

The (sad) truth is that she is not part of my life. And she hasn't been for a long time.

Now, I congratulate myself for giving myself that awesomely effective pep-talk! Didn't I just make looking for an e-card even harder?

Squash Presents: Volver

2009-03-15T15:58:00.002+07:00

Last night, I finally was able to attend Squash Presents Night. We watched Penelope Cruz (Volver) projected on a squash court wall. And it was awesome.

We were with a few new people -- Gervacio from Argentina, Cesar and Liza of the Boat Club, and Nelson, a Cuban-American I danced some Eastcoast swing with.

The Manila Boat Club is a pearl hidden in the thick of Pandacan, beside the muck of the Pasig River. The building is charming -- bahay na bato / American -- and has not been renovated since it was built in 1832. The socio-anthropologist in me was reawakened and I want to join in a restoration effort -- even if I've no money, really.

Work has been weighing me down -- not because I've been swamped, but because I've been trying to find the meaning in what I do from day-to-day. And it's complicated.

I needed a break. And I need more breaks in between.

More coherent post later, maybe. Distracted.

Oysters

2009-02-16T22:53:00.002+07:00

Anthony Bourdain swears by them.

His first taste of them oysters was in the South of France as a petulant, thrill-seeking, attention-craving child. In Kitchen Confidential (and also in A Cook's Tour), he recalled this first with much passion, much gusto.

My first taste of oyster was memorable, too.

I must have been in first year high school. My parents -- mother and stepfather -- were such fans of it that one night, they brought fresh ones home. They tasted weird at first -- salty, slimy, but interesting. So I knocked one back, and another, and another, and another.

Post-dinner, I proceeded to watch a video I had rented out. VHSes were still all the rage then and ACA video. Promptly, I pushed in my Nirvana concert video (From the Muddy Banks of Wishkah) into the player and plunked myself on our living room floor pillow. Headbang, headbang, headache.

Yeouch. Probably the worst headache I had ever gotten in my life. It felt like a huge mallet pounding, pounding, pounding in my head; a mallet trying to find its way out from the inside of my temples. I cried in sheer pain and frustration and bargained with the Lord. "God, please stop this. If you make it stop, I will never listen to Nirvana again!" (Nirvana's music being the devil's music, of course.)

After some more pleading, I threw up my oysters into the toilet.

After having realized it was the oysters and not Kurt Cobain that was responsible for my suffering the previous morning, I resumed watching my VHS.

Yes!!!

Father Speaks or Papa says the darnest things

2009-01-24T21:00:00.002+07:00

Daughter1: "Sana may pawikan sa beach."

Papa: "They're gonna cook that?!"

Daughter1: "Nooooo! We're gonna release it into the sea!"

Papa: "Yeah, I ate pawikan before. And dolphin!"

Daughter2: "You ate dolphin? Kinakain ba yun?!"

Papa: "Dolphin is meat."

Happy Jottings

2009-01-08T21:38:00.004+07:00

The New Year is off to a good start. The return to work has been easy -- productive and at a good pace, starting out slow then picking up.

While things are not too crazy yet, one of our bosses suggested we have a get together. Lounge, cocktails. We all gussied up -- men and women! And even our friend L, whose get-up du jour was black shirts and jeans, gussied up! He looked soooo adorable and sharp at the same time!!!

All the girls were in dresses, and the boys in their dress shirts. It was awesome because everyone felt handsome as we sipped our mixed drinks in the glow of red and green lava lamps. :D

It was unfortunate that our boss, chief instigator of it all, could not join us because of a family emergency. But I'm hoping for a do over where he can actually join.

This is what I had been waiting for in all the places I've worked in -- chances for us all to just hang out, get to know each other, and be normal people. Chances for us to be friends. And NAA, I think, gets that. So am very glad.

While waiting for NAA, we played desert island -- the only game I could think of. And it was, luckily, a hit. With a little psychoanalysis twist. Hoho and I were the "hosts" and everyone would butt in with their own "readings" as well.

Am so glad.

+ + +

Rushed off to meet with my Beyotches' mums, too. And I felt loved and cared for by everyone. And beautiful, too, on top of all that. In my new evergreen dress, a loaned belt, and Steve Madden mary janes!

Mad about mary janes.

Hot About Food

2008-12-14T23:40:00.002+07:00

Can I just say? Kaiser buns are awesome!!! An' they look a little sumfin like this.

Two weekends ago, I did my grocery in Landmark, Trinoma and found me a bag o' these. I forgot the brand, but it's the same easily available bread brand that also sells bagels and tortillas. They had black and white sesame on them buns. And by golly, did they taste furkin' awesome!

They are perfect when toasted. You get that nice brown color on the inside. It's all warm and toasty. Then you put on some butter. Then it melts right on top. And gets all glidy on the bun.

Then, on the other side, I put a nice slice of cheddar cheese that gets all softy, too. Then I bite into it.

And it's like ... God, I am in loooooove, maaaan!

+ + +

And butter? Can I just tell you about butter?

Butter is awesome!

My butter of choice is Anchor butter, spreadable. It comes in a tub. And boy, the way it rolls on the butter knife ... then goes onto the bun as this little slab of butter. Then it gets all melty and soaks the bun?

That sooooo rocks!

God. I love food.

It Was a Sad Day at the Office Yesterday

2008-12-13T21:45:00.002+07:00

A good friend of mine upped and left yesterday. Just like that. He said he meant for me to be the first to know, but somehow, the news found me sooner than he did.

For a minute there, I was taken aback. But the next minute, I knew it was not only the best thing to do, but the right one, too. And that he made as quick an exit as he did made me proud of him and even prouder to be his friend.

It was a difficult day, though. Most of it was spent in a state of shock, intermingled with a force-myself-to-work attitude. There was something about seeing his name in his mailbox without that green silhouette of a head/neck thingy on LotusNotes. There was so much of him in my inbox. But I knew, he was no longer there. And as I walked past his section of his office, there was an empty space above the cubicle from which his hair used to peek.

I had heard of his leaving via text first -- from my seatmate: "Is it true...?" Then in whispers from the cubicles behind me. That morning, I was just texting him to take care on his out-of-town office trip, only to find out that he ditched it and the whole job as well.

As I took in the news, my unwashed coffee press stared back at me, along with all the mess on my desk.

+ + +

It's amazing, the speed and ease at which we became friends. Already, he is sorely missed.

+ + +

The first sign I had of his okness was at one lunch we had in the MainCon[ference room] together. It was the first lunch he ever had with our group.

In between spoonfuls, he asked us about ourselves, our lives. Our courses in college. The usual. But "what was your thesis [paper] on in college?" Not the usual question. It was then, I knew. Man, you are A-ok in my book.

After a surprised and slightly embarrased chortle, I managed to answer, "Reggae in the Philippines -- how it's received and appropriated and stuff."

He was the only one in the office who ever asked such a thing and right then and there, I had a good feeling about him. A very good one.

+ + +

And so there were more lunches to be had. And then came coffee[s] to be drank. And chats to be chatted.

Quickly this became a habit. Especially the coffee bits and chatting bits. And I feel that, with the exception of I and K, he was only person in the office who asked "How are you?" and really cared.

+ + +

People of the same wavelength are difficult enough to come by. Much more so, real friends and persons you can trust. Much much much more so, this is the truth in the PR industry.

So I guess that explains why it is hard not to take his departure hard.

+ + +

Frenz

My friends
Gonna tell you about my friends:
My friends ain't enough for one hand,
My friends ain't enough for one hand,
My friends don't amount to one hand,
One hand.

My friends don't add up to one hand,
My friends don't amount to one hand,
One hand.
Tell ya 'bout my friends. (Why do you count them?)

My friends don't count up to one hand,
My friends cannot count on one hand.
My friends don't amount to one hand.

Tell ya 'bout my friends.
My friends don't add up to one hand,
My friends don't count up to hand.
Tell ya 'bout my friends.
My friends don't amount to one hand,
My friends don't count up to one hand,
One hand.
Tell ya 'bout my friends.

(Do you count them?)

(How many are there?)

Yaaaay, Dutch!

2008-12-09T22:10:00.004+07:00

A few Christmas trees stood at the 3rd or so floor of The Podium. It was EU trees or so. The Spanish tree was in a sad state. And so was the French one. Yeheeeey, the Dutch wasn't. WIN!

Keep in touch with the Dutch. Trudat, trudat!

My Mexican Wrestler Name

2008-12-09T21:59:00.001+07:00

is El Gallo Retardo!

Hee hee. Crazy rooster. Only, I wish it was gato instead.

I am trying to dress up as a mexican wrestler for Christmas.

Things I Dig

2008-11-30T09:15:00.002+07:00

I have always liked the home section of department stores. Also hardware stores.

There's something about stuff for the house that really thrills me. I get all excited and creative when I'm in the home section/hardware store. Although getting excited about hardware sounds kinda durteh.

Yesterday, I went to the mall with my bff, Sophie. We had both been so busy that it was our first time to spend some actual relaxed time in a mall. Is that pathetic or what? It's so high school to get all giddy about going to the mall. But that was the truth.

I treated myself to some home stuff last night -- bought me a red spoonula, a nice snowflake-pattered trivet, and not one, but THREE mason jars!!! To store my tea, pasta, and other should-be-in-airtight-container stuff in! Yeaaah. Kid in a candy store. Had to restrain myself!!!

Of all my friends, I just might be the one with the most equipped kitchen -- minus an oven, which I really would like. I really miss baking and making roasts and shit. Sigh.

"When I'm big time," I told Sophie, "I will get me one of those fridges with a drawer freezer!" "What's that?" she asked. "You've never seen them????? OMG, I gotta show you sometime in an applicance store. It is awesome!!!" Gog. Fridges to me are now measures of success.

I wanna have a tricked up kitchen and a tricked out house, yo.

In other news, I dig new music. That now being "gansta soundz," kind of ... to be politically incorrect about it.

A new friend in the office, LT, lent me a (quasi) case logic of cds. I've listened to Joy Division and his "bitch slap soundz," and have now moved on to "2pac, clutch, and shit" or something to that effect. That's what it said on his cd anyway, written in his own funny but endearing chicken scrawl penmanship. :P

We now call each other variations of "homie," "nigga," and "dawg," from what used to be "dude," "buddy," and "pal." Oh boy!

/Nigga finggas!

No offense to my black and/or politically frenz!

I am currently chilling on my couch listening to rap and sit. I plan to bum and clean my house alternately ... wondering if I will ever have the energy today to drive to Bataan to visit my Pop.

Anyhoo. Peace out.

Happy Random Things

2008-11-29T14:18:00.003+07:00

1. There are perks to working in a PR agency. Like ... going around town, all-expense paid (at least for that trip), and helping out with fun events.

Last Wednesday to Friday brought me and some colleagues to Pampanga and Bataan for a school tour for one of our clients. The first stop was a logistical nightmare, to say the least. But it was better the next day.

On our way back, we picked up some local (Pampanga) dailies to find our mugs in the photo releases. Hahaha. Woot. R said, "Yay! I look good in black and white!" I opened to the sa

me page and thought the same of myself. "Yay ... My zits don't show! Hahaha. And I look Japanese."

If I get a scanned copy of it, I will showz the WORLD. Hahaha.

2. My friend PBeyotch sent me a little package from Holland. Filled with nifty things!!!! For mah kitchen!

The most interesting little thing was a garlic peeler, which at first, I thought, looked kinda stupid. BUT because it came from my friend who is NOT stupid, I thought, this must be worth a shot.

And to my delight, THE THING FRIGGIN' WORKS! It's awesome. It looks like-ah this!

Except mine's lime green. (Lime green, lime green and tangerine ...)

I am making adobo roight now! :P

3. Another unexpected good thing -- a friend (The Next "Bert Sulat") transferred me a copy of Forgetting Sarah Marshall via computer. 'Twas funneh.

A qq: "I'm doing a headstand, mothafucka!" Of course ... you just had to be there.

I Owe Doug a Beer

2008-11-27T22:56:00.002+07:00

Panic, panic, panic. Over a judging and computation that might've gone so terribly wrong.

Tsk, tsk. Details later.

But an epiphany tonight: the Internet is GOD.

Doug was an in the middle of preparing for his finals -- engineering finals. In 3 hours. But he looked at my shit. Shit being an Excel file of my tabulation/s. All the way from friggin' Barbados!

Is the Internet NOT God?! Intarwebz, I worship Thee!

I sooooo owe Doug a beerz. He says he is off to Guyana in a week or so. Muthafucka.

Movie Therapy

2008-11-02T21:57:00.003+07:00

Very good.

Wednesday Nights in the Field

2008-11-01T23:36:00.002+07:00

Meant karaoke nights. Unfortunately, not for the researchers but for our upstairs neighbors.

Tonight, I pulled out the MagicSing and came upon "Touch by Touch," by this 80s band called Joy. It was a karaoke night favorite.

Touch by touch, you're my all-time lover. Skin to skin, come under my covers.
... Do it, we still do it night and day ...

I guess you just had to be there.

/File under notes from the field.

From The Chronicle Review

2008-10-18T16:45:00.001+07:00

Because Lolita is a story about love.

Lolita at Middle Age

From the New Yorker

2008-10-18T16:15:00.003+07:00

...late blooming is simply genius under conditions of market failure.

from "Late Bloomers" by Malcolm Gladwell

Nee, ik ben niet ziek!

2008-10-16T20:47:00.003+07:00

Yet again, I must learn my lesson the hard way, don't I? Did I not already learn before that too much fun can be bad?

I don't think it was the beer but all those cigarettes. I don't believe I've ever smoked that much in my life!

L nor I did not have a lighter. So at each light, we had to beckon the waiter. Of course, I felt like Bette Davis as someone else lit my cigarette. But then, we had to light the next cancer stick with the last one, making us chain smokers, at least for the night.

There must be a ratio that says something like one's resistance is lowered by x percent at each cigarette, no? Unfortunately, I do not have such a number handy. But I tell you what ... I feel the effects. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Smoking does NOTHING good for you. Nope, nope, and NOPE. But why do I do it? Tsk.

+ + +

In other news, hooray for small victories.

My "favorite" real estate client was/is in crisis. Flooding woes and such.

This is perhaps the 3rd or 4th time I have prepared a crisis document for them. But last time, they really screwed me over. They are in the habit of being uber demanding, asking me to rush things. Sure, it's a crisis after all. But at the last minute, they decide to do away with my drafts and go with their sucky and barely comprehensible press statements.

Today, I stood my ground. I forwarded them strong recommendations. And I also pushed my Account Manager to push my draft to "favorite client." We had made several revisions of their crappy statement and Account Manager read it to them over the phone. But at my urging, Account Manager read them my version as well -- with points from their crappy one "assimilated" into good, clear prose.

I won.

Man. I had to fight for it. And it feels good. I am a pusher!

If only my nose and throat were not so sore from sneezing and wheezing, respectively.

It wasn't part of the plan

2008-10-15T22:25:00.002+07:00

But we did it! And I'm glad we did. :)

L, I, and I went to Cafe Agogo tonight on a whim. And I'm pretty hammered. And it's not like we don't have work tomorrow. I, especially, am at least a week behind in my writing!

Here's to being semi-functional tomorrow at the very least.

And thanks, L!!! I never took you for the vegan-all-organic-clothing-girl-lover type of guy! Tee hee hee.

We were all minding our own bee's wax when ...

2008-10-07T20:09:00.001+07:00

This guy showed up.

Everyone, remember to eat your vegetables!

A String of Birthdays, etc...

2008-10-02T20:03:00.003+07:00

Turns out today's Gabby's birthday (formerly known as L-Train). "Maligayang kaarawan, kaibigan! Meow!" This was my morning message to which someone replied, "Sorry, Lola niya to. Ito ang bago niyang number..." Hahaha. "Thank you po!" Meow.

And then, tomorrow is Office Crush's birthday, too. He said we should leave our lunch boxes and wallets at home because he was to throw a matinding pakain. Alright, man! Feedz us!

He still has my Jeff Buckley cd. It's been with him about 3 months now. Tsk, tsk ... sitting in his office drawer.

This evening, after I had wolfed down my craved-for-a-week kung pao chicken, I passed by his station to hear Jeff Buckley singing how it was "so real." I poked him in the back saying, "Ang ganda naman ng music mo!" with reverse nod and eyebrow-raising Pinoy style. "O nga e. Ang ganda, no?" "Oo, ganda!" "Gusto mo, pahiramin kita!" "Talaga? Sige! Pa-burn na rin lang!" And then we both laughed.

The lazy ass still couldn't be bothered to buy himself a coupla blank cds. "I-burn mo na kasi! Bukas na bukas din. Just think of it as your birthday gift to yourself!"

Le sigh.

+ + +

I was so lasing sa antok, K put it. She and I and her bf Jlz went to the mall to take out some dinner. I knew what I want ... last week pa. Kung pao chickeeeen! And I got it.

It took me 15 minutes to eat it all up. Or maybe less than that. And they were pretty surprised. I also got back a good amount of my old hyperness which kinda weirded K out. But she said she was more amused than weirded out. (Am I a clown? Am I here to amuse you?!) :D

+ + +

Downloaded The Very Best of Lisa Loeb. It's not bad. I love sang some of "Do you sleep?" in the office to which K says, "Angst!" :)

Good, Happy Things

2008-10-02T01:03:00.007+07:00

My dog, Doobie in a congee house.

Books.

Me and food.

Oira and wine.

Ylie and jerk waiters.

Me and ukay-ukay dresses.

Chonky Glory

2008-10-02T00:55:00.002+07:00

You shouldn't. But it's so good.

Driving down EDSA at 1 in the morning and feeling light. Feels pretty fantastic.

Happy birthdaaaaaay, J! :p

I shouldn't be affected

2008-09-27T23:14:00.002+07:00

But I am.

Office Crush has a gf.

I got an inkling the night before.

The rain poured so hard last Thursday evening that the streets around our building flooded significantly. People were stranded and it was difficult to hail or call a cab (via phone). So I decided to wait it out in the office.

I was carrying around my new "dog," Doobie. Hanging out with people, not the least of which was Office Crush. But then, suddenly, he was on the phone, speaking quietly. I didn't really hear the conversation. But it sounded like sweet nothings. I sensed it.

And last night, it was confirmed. He is NOT available.

And it annoys me. Saddens me. Maybe even pisses me off. Because for some reason, the logic of it ask me not ... I feel cheated. :(

Because I had no clue until Thursday evening. And because I felt that there were instances that the flirtation was reciprocated. But maybe that's all it was -- flirting. Or maybe, I mistook his playful attention to me as something more than it really was. And perhaps, I am nothing more than a kiddie officemate to him, because I seem to give off that vibe to most everyone else.

Perhaps what really gets my goat is that I always seem to get it wrong -- I invest my time and energies in the wrong people.

:( Fuck.

Hello. Help Me. Please.

2008-09-25T15:44:00.002+07:00

I have articles to write (for work and for family). But the past few weeks have been terribly tough.

There is a graphic artist in our office who plays too much music too loud. And he has been at it for days. This week, he is into Japanese cartoon music. Throughout our area, there are pulsating beats, the clanging of cymbals, and the screeching of guitars. All accompanied by a foreign tongue.

Now if I were just doodling all day and not struggling with ideas, perhaps I would not mind. But I don't. And I do (mind).

I am all for people doing their own thing -- fulfilling whatever rituals they need to release their creative juices. But this is a common space, a.k.a. other people work here, too. But this, I cannot say.

I would not say I am a wimp. But one must choose one's battles. I do not want to be the target of unnecessary ire should my request for silence be taken the wrong way -- which it probably would be.

So here I am, keeping quiet. Quietly unproductive. Sulking at my desk.

Nothing like a cool shower

2008-08-29T22:13:00.003+07:00

to wash off the stench of a long working day.

The week was tiring and today was just something else. Stayed FOREVER in the office and stared moron-ness in the face. I almost tore her hair out. But of course, did not.

Let us just say this was a very enlightening experience and I am in awe of her people's patience!

R and M and I departed after a group smoke and bitching session behind our building.

[Recent] History Repeats Itself

2008-08-28T22:33:00.002+07:00

Philip Morris backed out of the E'heads Reunion Concert sponsorship. But they're in China plastering themselves on kids' uniforms.

Hello, young smokers wherever you are ...

Marlboro Sponsors Children's School Uniforms

Owl-Becoming

2008-08-28T22:26:00.002+07:00

They say the older you get, the less sleep you need.

Maybe it's nature's way of saying you're time's almost up. Maybe it's the body's way of resisting death.

I am having trouble sleeping again.

Notes from Bataan

2008-08-25T13:05:00.003+07:00

For all his aversion or fear of computer technology, Papa did pretty well on his webcam pilot!

At first, he thought Ate could hear him via the webcam too -- something stupid which I should've thought of earlier, built-in mics -- so he was saying, "Hi, love! Hi, love!" "She can't hear you, Pa. But sit here and type."

He used the index finger of his right hand -- his strong one since the stroke -- and typed each letter carefully. He scanned the keyboard as fast as he could and was talking while typing. "hilveijsthadtwolargekentuckysandwhichesforlunch." No spaces, just letters and words as fast as his finger could punch.

Ate had been taking a while to respond, so he thought that was the end of the conversation. But I said, "Wait! Ate's talking to you." So we sat together at the dinner table and used our webcam for the first time.

He spoke and I typed. And boy, did those typing lessons come in handy! My dainty little fingers struggled to keep up. I wrote entire paragraphs, just as Papa spoke.

He liked it. "Ang ganda pala nito, eh!" His only complaint was that Ate and Patrick's cam was not working yet. But they'll get to it, they promised.

+ + +

It is a long weekend because of Ninoy Aquino. Unlike other weekend visits, today is quite longer -- 2 nights as opposed to the usual 1.

In Manila, I had to run some errands -- critical, like dropping off my laundry -- so I arrived here (Bataan) at around 9. "Were you sleeping na, Pa?" I asked as he lied in bed. I was taking my slippers off by the screen door. "Hindi. Hintay kita, eh," was his reply in a sweet, squeaky voice. I think part of my quirkiness -- the bubble and the squeak -- I got from him.

Today, after the appointment with the cardiologist, he said he wanted KFC for lunch. He told Tita H this. "What? KFC?" It was just in front of the hospital, we could see it as we pulled out. Oh boy. It was only 11am then, so I suggested we do the grocery first.

He was really happy we gave in to his KFC craving. He ordered not one, but two (!) Zingers! And he didn't even wait for merienda to eat the second one. Oh, no. He ate the two one after the other. That and the puttanesca tagliatelle he had requested I make him the previous night.

He really shouldn't be eating all that much. And I'd say, compared to the months immediately after the stroke, he's been more disciplined in his gastronomic ways. But today's lunch was a LOT! Goodness.

But it is very hard to refuse him. Food is one of the few comforts left to him post-stroke.

+ + +

Ate read a book, My Stroke of Insight. It is a brain scientist lady's own account of suffering a stroke, and she could not speak for nearly a decade.

She sent it through mail around the end of June. Papa has been eagerly waiting for it.

Happy Birthday, Menzi

2008-08-23T13:03:00.002+07:00

My first big thing appeared on three local broadsheets today, a tribute to Hans Menzi -- tycoon, rich dude, dead man, and erm ... political implications, I dunno.

Historical/political implications aside, I am proud of the work. Congratulations received from Big Boss and Client consisting of an invite to beer.

Am surprised I am enjoying myself at work. Here's hoping good things continue to happen.

F is for Fun

2008-07-30T09:05:00.002+07:00

Now "sick," does that have any fs? I thought not. Because S, as in sick, SUCKS!!!

This is day 5 of the flu. And do I want to get well so bad. I can't breathe, I can't move fast, I can't taste, I can't eat. So I've been wolfing down god knows what I can grab just so I can say I ate some. Paracetamol has acquired a second name, candy. And ... I just wanna be well already!!!

Being sick alone sucks extra because not only do you have to rest, you have to cook for yourself and then clean up after yourself. I am so tempted to just order take out. But two things to consider: 1) hello to high salt content! and 2) I have just about 300 pesos in my wallet. If only I could charge for some nice century egg Mongkok congee. :(

I are sad. I are sick. I don't like it!

Because I Find It Difficult to Sleep

2008-07-29T20:47:00.002+07:00

I browsed through some of my old entries and stumbled upon this.

For My Lover

The morning after you left me, a damp morning heavy with 4am-sadness, I woke and fell apart. I cried so hard -- a loud and ugly cry -- that I thought my lungs would cave in with grief.

That morning, I woke in fear, terrorized with the truth that I was finally alone. But what I feared more was the possibility of forgetting.

Even the pain was beautiful.

Oh, how this was written so long ago ... however, I don't believe I've really, truly forgotten.

Mitzie and I have been talking via email these past few days. And I think our conversations are testament to my remembering still. ... But tomorrow should promise something and someone new. So, must hold tight to that hope.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

2008-07-29T20:31:00.002+07:00

Is what they say. So I popped me a That 70s Show disc into my player and laughed away.

Then I remembered that my roomie Stan and I used to watch this on the floor of our Batangas apartment together, fieldwork days. And I suddenly missed him, and sleeping next to him on a futon on the living room floor. And sometimes we'd wake and find ants all over us, nibbling away at our poor bodies. Them ants bit painfully. But it was all good fun.

I wonder if an episode or two more of That 70s should cure me of my flu. I doubt it. Although them good belly laughs do make me feel slightly better.

+ + +

In other words, my semi-kras was playing Morrissey's Suedehead. It wasn't an obnoxiously loud playing, no, nothing like that. But it was audible to me even in my far away corner.

In any case, I loved it that he played Morrissey. AND The Sundays right after that. Is it uber pathetic that I got kilig?

I think he's polite and nice. And on occasion, he's funny. :) I also thought his shoes were cute -- in the elevator going down (he, going down for a smoke; me and a friend going to MiniStop), he complained to a friend that his sneakers were so old. He said he needed new ones, then he raised his shoes and showed us his worn out Adidas heel.

Why do I think he's cute?

+ + +

Also, L, who's always in black, helped me develop my transition paragraph. That was fun hanging out with him, too. In general, I really like the boys in the office more than the girls ... save the girls that are way on the other side of the office AND my seatmate, who I totally, totally love.

+ + +

I think I should sleep now, although I find it very difficult. Might have to pop a pill.

Wasakan!!!

2008-07-28T20:22:00.002+07:00

Friday was so much fun I got sick. Sobra sa saya. Heto ang ebidensya.

The fun cost me a day of work, and I'm still recuperating. But no matter. It was time and effort well spent. Sa uulitin.

P.S. I love you, Gabby!

Wasak na Wasak

2008-07-26T19:10:00.001+07:00

Urbandub at Gateway After Hours and Musicians Against the WTO (Rock the Round) at Mogwai.

Wasak pa ako, mehn. Pero masaya ... hope to post a significant entry later on.

Dinner at Banana Curry Leaf

2008-07-24T20:24:00.001+07:00

Dan treated me and Oira out to dinner tonight.

I was excited since morning. So excited throughout the day that I was worried, mid-afternoon, that I'd tire myself out with excitement that I would be dead by dinner time.

But I wasn't. Instead, I laughed some hearty laughs and was noisy and merry and everything good.

I had not seen Dan in years. Two years, maybe. And I have missed him so much. When he came into the restaurant, I stood up to greet him with a kiss. And after kissing him, I still missed him that I kissed him again and hugged him. It was very nice indeed.

There is a certain warmth you cannot discount or fully describe when one is among good friends. Tonight, despite the rain, it was warm. It was cozy. And I am happy.

Work was ok today, too. I was actually working -- I didn't even finish, truthfully. But it is ok.

While the rest of the heads were holed up in the conference for some mass-flagellation formally named as ManComm meeting, the rest of us mice were playing and working in our little spinning wheels.

N and I went to claim my free tea latte in the mall and I also bought my lunch -- a sandwich, as I am starting a new diet. Ice cream sandwich, I mean. Then, CTP and I hung out some with GP -- lunch. And I had small chit chat with the MR people and even accounts. And I also had a smoke with A and N. And LdG even proofed my work, though he was all shy and tip-toey.

It was very good. I liked my day very much, thank you.

Oira, Dan and I will try to make this a monthly Thursday habit, dinners out. I would love that.

Music: The Kinks, Everybody's Gonna Be Happy

Crying for No Particular Reason

2008-07-23T22:04:00.002+07:00

Just last night, I was feeling pretty good, cheerful even. But for whatever reason, today I am singing a completely different tune. Or perhaps not singing at all.

It could be lack of sleep -- I went to bed at 1:30 am. But even that is indicative of something off -- I have been having trouble sleeping lately. And not that I've had trouble falling asleep, but it's as if I am afraid to.

This evening in the bus found me in a dark and almost sullen mood. I was trying to sing Fiona Apple's Shadowboxer in my head, but could only manage "You made me a shadowboxer, baby." And after that, no other words would follow.

Maybe there are reasons for this ...

I am running away.

I have run away. I had run away.

First from my mother.

And now, I feel, from my father.

I have not seen him in a month now, I think. And in a way, I don't think I really want to, although my head tells me I should.

I sometimes feel lonely, but I also do not want company. And sometimes, when I feel like I do, I am retarded in it.

Life is weird. Or maybe it is just I.

+ + +

I drank coffee this afternoon at four. I did not want to, but it was my last and only recourse. I would, otherwise, have fallen asleep and left my work unfinished. Now, as predicted, may be another sleepless night, this time, caffeine-aggravated.

Craving Curry

2008-07-22T21:31:00.002+07:00

Pachotje decided to go back to Ho-lland.

That's too bad because I just finished watching the Curry Lounge episode of Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares and I wish I had someone to eat curry with.

That is what I'm making tomorrow -- that is, if i can find me some cloves.

I make a mean Thai chicken curry. But I've never made Indian curry before. But I think it'll be good.

Pachotje has kinda been my culinary guinea pig. Happily, I've not made too many culinary mishaps, so she is happy as a guinea pig in fake hay. :)

I hear she is semi-chimay in de Nederland and that she misses my cooking. I miss her eating it.

So you remember me nekkid, eh?

2008-07-22T08:40:00.003+07:00

How sweet of you to remember.

But I was not nekkid. Not completely, anyway. Although would not mind being so right now.

Only, the one I could potentially get nekkid for ain't here at the moment. And I dressed so nice that even he should want to peel my clothes off. Even a gay guy said I looked, not pretty, but beautiful today.

Sucks too that I'll be gone the whole day for a client meeting. So if potentially-get-nekkid-for turns up, still no getting nekkid gonna happen, no.

Last Woman Standing

2008-07-12T08:29:00.002+07:00

Oira and I had agreed. We would only stay for a while. Our company scored some new clients and it was an excuse to throw a party.

Well, I ended up staying until 1:30 am. The last woman standing? Yeah. That would be me.

From 9 or 10 something onwards, it was just Mike, Allan, and me. We hit it off really well and well ... we just ended up hanging out 'til morning, literally. We had the conference room to ourselves, a table of assorted food and chips, and a twice-replenished cooler of beer. We also had the MagicMic to ourselves. So we sang whatever we felt like -- from Kermit the Frog renditions of Rainbow Connection and Kokomo to Wild Boys (wild boys!) to Wonderful Tonight, the lamest of Eric Clapton's songs.

By a quarter to one, the boys had fallen asleep. Allan was comfy in a wide lounge chair, hugging the song book. But Mike was slumped over a bad computer chair we had rolled into the conference room. He was hanging sideways that I was afraid he'd fall over.

I wasn't so sure what to do, so I let them sleep for maybe half an hour or so. But it was no fun just singing alone. So after Dream a Little Dream of Me, I began to shake the two boys. The first try didn't do it. I was afraid to shake them too much, who knew if they were the types who woke up angry?

I tried to seek help from the lobby where our guard and messenger were. Alas, they too were asleep!!!

So I went back and tried again on my own. Allan was the one I successfully woke up first. "Huy! Tulungan mo ako, gisingin natin si Mike. Kayo naman, tinulugan niyo na ako! Inisip ko, shocks, alis na kaya ako? Pero ang bastos ko naman." I shook Mike's shoulder and told him softly, "Uy, Mike, ok ka lang? Uwi na tayo!"

I had planned to go home at around 10, I'd say, after all three of us finished our smoke. But I had forgotten my iPod on my desk and was worried I'd lose it.

And then, I ended up staying for another song and another beer and another song and another beer more.

Well, I'd say that was a successful party. Wouldn't you?

Encule!

2008-07-10T20:41:00.002+07:00

I've met a few assholes in my life, but you are probably the worst.

Connard. Pede! Sack of shit.

+ + +

In other words, W and D had a scare over A. I was pretty alarmed to get a message from W asking if I knew how to get a hold of A. Gosh. I only had his cellphone number. And when I checked A's FB, there was hardly any information in it! Worse, his status message could be read as suicidal.

So W and D were in a panic.

But this just in, A is ok now. W told me. He and D just panicked.

Well, what a relief then! And what a lucky bastard A is to have friends who care about him that much they go in a panic.

I wish that if anything should happen to me, someone would care, let alone notice. I wish not to be like Emily in "A Rose for Emily," discovered only by neighbors days and days after she was gone.

If I were to go missing, I would hope to be "missed." In the sense that people would have a clue that I was indeed missing and would care enough to see what the matter was.

Lucky you, A. And I am glad that you are ok. Please don't make us worry like that again.

David Shrigley

2008-07-09T10:52:00.002+07:00

The lack of work again has led me to find amusement and distraction elsewhere. I returned to blog-snooping. Target, Uberdy. And it is through him that I have found this new find. David Shrigley.

Mag:Net Monday

2008-07-09T09:59:00.002+07:00

My week began with poetry.

It was just by accident that I learned about a reading session along good old Katipunan -- I was chatting with Doug over the Internet about random things. We were both getting dead bored, neither of us had real work to do. And then he said he was to go to Mag:Net in the evening for the poetry reading. And I wanted in. So I went.

And glad I was to have gone.

The place was packed. Sophie and I could not find a seat. So along the aisle we stood and each time a waiter had to serve a table, we both had to squish to the not-really-squishable side. It was cha cha with the waiters all night.

But it was all good. It was inspiring to see poetry alive, art alive.

A Fil-Am exchange student from UPenn read two pieces on farming, one about the West, and one about the East. The second one I loved. I related to more -- she spoke of being the only milk-faced girl in a farming village in Bulacan. "Look at what we do not have," read a line in the poem ... "But here, take our santol, our avocadoes, and bushels of pandan. For these, they are abundant."

Of course, that is not the way it really went. But it was beautiful.

Sophie and I really liked this Subic girl's song, too -- I think it was "Think About It." She sang to us with her guitar, "What if it is your clothes that make you naked, think about it?" It played a lot on irony and oxymorons -- I think that's what they are ... must double check my lit terms -- and it was good.

+ + +

Some friends were also there, people I had not seen in a long time -- Javie, Den, Waps, Doug. And it was just so good to hang out with them, even just for a short while over a few cigarettes on the curb. I am hopeful that I will reconnect with good humanz soon enough and hopefully too, not too often lose touch.

Is it terribly sad

2008-07-08T22:01:00.002+07:00

that I cried my eyes out over Sense and Sensibility?

I remember watching it for the first time in the theater in Shangri-La and being so moved to tears, no sobs, at the tragic end of Ms. Mary Anne and Mr. John Willoughby's love? Cry I did, too, with Ms. Eleanor Dashwood when she realized that Mr. Edward Farris was indeed, not married. Oh, how he spoke of how he came with no expectations, other than to confess, now that he had the liberty to do so that his heart is ... and always will be ... yours.

Oh, I die!!!

How would I not cry, oh how would I not indeed, when just today, I managed to fumble for words at a small, 20-year-old, handsome young ... boy at the elevator?

I had packed my things already and was waiting for the lift. When the doors slid open, S and S were there. I bid them hello, and the more pertinent S (aka Westy) inquired, "How do you do?" "Homeward bound," replied I. To which he again responded, "That is always a good sign."

So startled at this meeting, I had not thought of my lines as I normally do. So I managed to utter a foolish "He he" followed by an awkward silence. And I proceeded to cower in the lift until it descended to the ground floor.

Why should I be so nervous when he is around? And why should I be so nervous when I know that there will be no such thing as "us."

Oh, no. Of course not. For he is the nephew of my family of bosses. And though cheerful and intriguing he may be, why, not only does he reside elsewhere, but it simply cannot be.

There is a dire need for new blood in the office, and may it be the new blood of handsome, intelligent men. For people like myself need not only someone in whom to confide, but I am in most need of a life! Or a distraction at the very least.

I Was Right (... and a few other musings)

2008-07-05T00:00:00.000+07:00

Dinner was wonderful.

It was yummy and with good friends. The evening shower brought with it a calm coolness and the company of friends made the yellow lights feel like a warm, toasty fire place.

My feet hurt a little from my new favorite still-to-be-broken-in shoes -- my pinky toe is a bit squashed -- but all is good.

It's a great way to begin the weekend, the remaining of which I will spend with my father. I hope to make him apple pancakes from scratch, or cinnamon-nutmeg ones at the very least. That and a few other coumadin-safe dishes.

I look forward to tomorrow.

Talking to J about life in the office, living alone, and just plain life in general has gotten me thinking. Maybe sometimes living requires a bit more effort than just breathing. It entails asking questions -- hard or soft -- and really going out there more to figure out what it is that really makes me tick.

If it is dancing I love, or writing, or what not, then by all means I should get into those things. Join a club maybe, or keep surfing 'til I click on the right link. Whatever it is, I should be afraid not to venture deeper into whatever it is that catches my fancy.

I know I do not love my job. But I do not hate it either. I resolve to learn as much as I can while I am where I am and cross my fingers that whatever I learn will come in handy in the future. In most cases, I feel that experience makes me not only wiser, but stronger. Grueling some work, family, and life experiences have been for me since college graduation. But so far, they have all been sources of strength and confidence. So perhaps, the heartaches have not been in vain.

In my first week at my new work, I suddenly had the hunger for real books, for heartfelt literature. So I sought solace in Rilke's correspondences with a budding poet.

In between copywriting, I read the New York Times online and envy their writers of their mastery of the language. Their writing is so graceful, so thoughtful. I can only wish that my writing -- present and future -- could be the same.

I dream of writing. Really writing. About things that matter, things that people would read. But most of all, things that I could be happy writing about. I wish not to be the dumb mouthpiece of these big corporations who care about nothing really except their own image and profit. Funny to bear "writer" on my business card, but really have no voice.

I dream of asking biting questions and writing (and thinking) just as fiercely.

There is something to be said of hunger -- it drives.

I would like to be hungry. And remain so.

Happily Friday

2008-07-04T18:20:00.002+07:00

As it should be.

I am in J&A's house waiting for them to return. A is designated chauffeur or chaffeusse if there is such a word. J is being picked up from his office.

Meanwhile, I is stealing their laptopz and using their toiletz. But not at the same time. Marley's singing Lively Up Yourself quite aptly.

I am feeling quite alive.

Since moving out of the house, living on my own, and also moving jobs, life really has been quite an adjustment. There are days when I feel I am not alive at all. Weekends come to most as a breath of fresh air, even more still anticipate their arrival eagerly. But if truth be told, weekends to me are sometimes threatening -- what to do, where to go?

Couch-sitting and face-stuffing, home. Those are the usual answers.

This weekend, however, I think should be different. First off, I did not leave the office at 5:30 to go home to an empty house (although I truly do enjoy getting home in time for Oprah!). I iz at J&A's house -- although they're in a bit of a tiff right now, which I refuse to let me down anyway.

Whatever, I am just glad to be with humanz I actually like and care about.

Tomorrow, I am off to see my dad in Bataan. And I promised I'd make him some home-made pancakes. I am trying to learn good recipes for him, coumadin-safe. Dr. Gourmet (it's a site) says apple pancakes should be fine. So that is what we'll have for Sunday breakfast.

But now, I think it's salad time!

Concrete Jungle Safari

2008-07-04T10:24:00.002+07:00

Much work there is not today. But two bank errands I had to go a-running. So I switched my new pewter heels for my old but trusty falling-apart flats and went a-walking.

Into the concrete jungle went I, trying not to trip while looking up at the skyscrapers that towered above me.

It is good weather for walking -- there is sun and breeze. I walked about 10 blocks but did not break a sweat.

Perhaps I should explore deeper into this jungle at least once a week during my breaks.

/There is too much noise in this office, I cannot even blog in peace.

Meal Monotony and the Absence of Cable

2008-07-03T21:59:00.003+07:00

I have been surviving sans cable. But there are days I miss it.

I miss food channels. I miss Gordon Ramsay. And that really tall American guy who my sister says invented his own word: aromatize. He's pretty hilarious. I love the tagline for his show, "My secret recipe is ... that I don't have a recipe!"

I have high speed internet, so that's just as well -- I download torrents of shows I wish I could watch on TV. But it isn't exactly the same -- there's not much spontaneity or surprise to the things I watch because my viewing list is predetermined. I miss turning on the telly and thinking, "Ooh, that's new!"

Cooking shows fit in my life with a certain rhythm -- they'd be on at a particular time, and some days, I'd even plan to be home just to catch them. But the spontaneity is from what the chefs on TV cook. And it is from them that I draw most of my inspiration.

Now, there is no chance for that surprise recipe. What's worse is that I cook only for myself -- which is fine -- but I feel that my cooking could sometimes be improved by an audience. I love feeding people. And in a sense, I guess I really am a performer. Someone must watch me, someone must dive with their forks into a plateful of something I conjured in the kitchen.

Today, I often suffer from meal monotony. For all the dishes I know how to cook -- with or without recipes -- I feel I have forgotten them all. I need a little perk-me-upper.

Tonight, however, was at least a little different. I had a craving for pasta, tomato-based. And so before going home, I dropped by the grocery and bought me something to cook.

I had a little fake italian/hungarian sausage pasta in mind, but I feared it would get too old. So I went back to the plain pork meat sauce pasta with tasteless tin mushrooms. It wasn't great. But it was pretty good. That, at least, must be taken as good news.

It's an Addiction

2008-06-27T20:57:00.003+07:00

Watching episodes back to back to back.

And it's not just A series, but mostly any series. They take weeks to download. And only days to consume.

Tonight, Extreme Makeover Home Edition, Season 5 completed downloading into Yellow Submarine, the name I've given my external hard drive. I have wept through parts 1 and 2 of the first episode. And the second episode. And I think I will be weeping through the third as well.

I love reality TV, I do. They touch me on an emotional level, especially the make-over shows that create more than pop stars or better-looking-used-to-be-fashion-drabs.

Blowing into a Kleenex, I wonder who ever thought of shows such as Extreme Makeover Home Edition, Trading Spaces and other shows of the same type that I miss watching on cable or in my sister's apartment in the US. And I wonder why the same things do not happen here.

As I crossed the pedestrian bridge to my village today, I noticed that just a few meters from my gated community was a squatter's area.

There have been some attempts, I think to do makeover shows here -- I've seen them on TV. Mostly, they are just segments of a show. Worse, I don't think they do anything at all.

There seems to be an air of artificiality in all the makeover segments I've seen on local TV -- a chance to peddle this or that company's goods. And worse still, it is a huge and unmistakable band-aid that thinks it will cover deep and gaping wounds.

Could it be because the makeovers are so superficial -- buying these fashion victims new clothes, giving them these trendy hairstyles, which frankly, they just CANNOT pull off? Or is it because when these shows give, they don't really. It's all very tight-fisted still, their giving. No "all out" to speak of.

Or could it be because when it's closer to home, these makeover things, they feel a bit odd? But when you watch it on TV, with say, Americans, you are and remain to be a foreign spectator?

In love I might be with all these reality shows and makeover series, I think I would detest them if they had Filipino rip offs. Just like how I hate Pinoy Idol.

Argue with me about appropriation. But there is a lot of it that gets lost in translation.

I'm rambling.

Travellers' Tales

2008-06-16T19:10:00.002+07:00

I took the train with GP and JC, admin people. After I had tried the train the first day going to work -- spilling into the car and hardly making it out alive -- I told myself I'd just take the bus. Today, however, officemates sweet-talked me into it.

It wasn't that bad, actually. Although I do hate being crammed like sardines in vehicles. I felt somewhat lighter, less tired tonight. Which is good, because I usually feel like I am made of lead. But I ran to the shower immediately to wash off the smell of strangers off my skin.

+ + +

At work, I watch people. I feel ever more the socio-anthro I've always had in me. I wonder if Account Person X thinks her well-made up face, manicured tips, and eyelash extensions hide her lack of substance. In a meeting -- which was a total waste of my time -- I tried not to barf in disgust.

"Ano ba ang biodegradable?" asked she. 2nd grade me could answer her in a jiffy. You have to be kidding me!

Personal Best and Panalo Moments

2008-06-12T22:58:00.002+07:00

Ask me what time I left the office today. 10.30 pm. Like, whoa. Personal best, or what? Coming from a person who leaves the office the minute the 2nd hand reaches 12 -- sometimes, earlier -- that is a HUGE deal!!!

I am actually quite dizzy now and could probably use some rest, especially since I've a pitch tomorrow (the work continues!). But I'm happy.

Maybe I can actually do this, you know? Like pull it off, and pull it off well! My account manager liked the things I did, and I thought they weren't half bad either! She liked some ideas so much that she kept saying them over and over again. And that's quite a compliment, don't you think?

For the first time in a while, I felt quite smart. Maybe brilliant, even! (Well, honestly, I've kinda been feeling smart the past few days, after talking to some of the people at work. Kasi naman ... someone didn't even know that McDonald's fries have salt. Are you kidding me?! They're like the saltiest thing on the planet!!! But she seems nice naman, kahit pap'ano, compared with other people who seem just bleeeeh. So I'll let that slide.)

Tell you what though, I love my seatmate!!!! K is winner. And Js, her bf, is not bad either! They're a cute couple pati! Aww.

- - -

Two panalo moments this week though. And there's one more opportunity to have panalo moments tomorrow, Friday!

One was yesterday -- getting a free ride from the South to Ortigas, with a good-looking, long-haired pony-tailed, moreno, nice-toothed, moreno and clear skinned, bespectacled, goateed, artsy-fartsy photographer guy, one to two years my junior. Hee hee. Winner.

And then, the "Hi. Bye," incident I had tonight. Tee hee. Talk about cheap thrills!!!

Well, ok, the vietnamese-sandwich-and-some food trip yesterday was panalo too! So, three and counting. I pray for more tomorrow!

Deprived, Depraved

2008-06-10T23:18:00.004+07:00

The longer I postpone sleeping, the less sleep I'll actualy get. But I feel like I am missing so many things in life that I cannot sleep tonight. In a few hours, I may regret this ... I need to be at work at 6am and therefore wake at around 4:30. But you know what they say about regret, it always comes at the end.

So I took on a writing job. And when people ask me what my job is, I say I write for a PR company. And they reply, "Ah, so you're a writer!" And there is something like a cringe in me ... but not a disgusted cringe. Rather a cringe that denotes one's unworthiness.

The thing is, I have a writing job, but I feel fathest away to being a writer. One does not simply apply for a writing job and become a writer overnight. The process of becoming it is more drawn out, difficult, painful.

And so, being a PR writer for a week or so now, what have a written? A press release and yet another one. Maybe 10 paragraphs all-in-all. Yay, me! What a writer indeed.

Thank heavens for my wonderful seatmate, K, who has a good sense of humor and who does not mind my sarcasm. Hers is the only humor I get in the office. The rest, I just chortle with politely. I smile politely so much that my cheeks begin to ache a bit after and I wonder if they do not see the disdain and unfunny in my eyes.

I miss reading and I miss reading hte newspaper. I miss life in general ... wondering where all the time goes and when i can have the money AND time to do things that i actually want to do.

As you can see, I wil probably regreat this tomorrow. i have just successfully shortened my sleeping time even more -- less 1 hour for me!!!

Must give in to my yawns.

Do Nice Guys Really Finish Last?

2008-05-24T11:07:00.002+07:00

Ask Oira.

I sure hope not. For all the hard work being "good" entails, I sure hope it's still worth something.

It annoys me that 8 years of friendship, apparently, do not count for much, really. Because regardless of how much time and emotions one invests in someone, there is no real guarantee. From experience, that does not necessarily prevent someone from stabbing you in the back, big time.

My prayer, though, is that there is still some justice left in the cosmos.

+ + +

I had gone missing from the field for about a week, and being pretty used to living alone now, I no longer expect anyone else to really give a rat's ass about how I am.

But Ate J, my closest friend in the field, was actually worried about me. I visited her at the first opportunity after I arrived from Bataan/Manila, and she told me that she was wondering what had happened to me already -- why had I not returned when I said that I would on Monday?

Thankfully, there are still souls who care for more than just themselves. And I was elated. Who would expect an informant -- hindi mo kaanu-ano -- to care about a researcher? I was proven wrong. And on this rare occasion, I am glad I was.

+ + +

It is my last week here, and for a second time around in my professional life, I have been busting it all out as best I can. I wonder if salvation can come any sooner. I doubt it, but when it does come, I will be so happily relieved.

Another friend of mine had been telling me, time and time again, to just drop the whole wretched thing. But for shame and indebtedness to all the kind generosity people I've met in the field have shown me, I cannot afford to leave them without knowing that I did all that I could to best represent them in my work.

The thing about field work, especially this ethnographic type, is that it changes you. It really does. And it's more than just crunching numbers or churning out words to reach a word quota for an article or what not.

I must say that these people, however fleeting their presence might be in my life, have touched it tremendously that I will never look at things the same way again. It is trite, I know. But I have seen, albeit little, their struggles. In a way, it is good to have had also taken part of that -- or that some of their struggles are also reflected in mine. It has taught me that I am not indubitably alone, though many times, I have felt that.

This may all be cryptic, I know. And I will probably need more time to process this. But I do know, that despite all the heartache I've been experiencing in the past year, and the beginning of 2008, it'll do me tremendous good in the future. I would like to believe that that "good" is already showing today.

+ + +

For comfort, I have been seeking the company of Khalil Gibran and Rainier Maria Rilke. It works.

Not Too Many Mansions

2008-05-22T10:52:00.002+07:00

I slept in my mother's house Tuesday night, in my old, old bed in my old, old room. (I've had 2 rooms in that house.)

Moving out and moving away, I realize, in an eerie way, that that was and is no longer home. In a somber sense, it was an empty shell -- none of my clothes, none of my furniture there anymore, save a few books that I will soon collect to make my transition complete.

My best friend and I sat on my sister's terrace last night, smoking, and watching cars go by in the quiet evening. And I told her, nights when there was no electricity -- Corazon Aquino's time -- Ate and I would sit out and count the cars that would drive past. I'd choose blue and she'd choose white. I lose, and the next time, I pick white.

There are many other memories I have of living and growing up in that house. And though I love it -- its spacious coziness, the beautiful high ceiling, our wrought iron window frames, our speckled marble floors -- it is just a house. Just a house. And at some point, one has to decide how much the things one owns supports one's life or hinders one from truly living it.

So I left.

I miss the spaciousness and comfort of my mother's house. But that is no longer home.

Baby Talk

2008-05-10T17:11:00.003+07:00

When I visited Ate J at her office yesterday, she asked me to be ninang of her niece. Well, it wasn't really a question per se. It's more of, I'm asking you, but do it, do it, DO IIIIIT! Oh boy. I guess there was no getting out of that one! But as a precursor to my ninang-hood, I was asked to come by her house today to be the baby girl's unang subo ... "para matalino!" What pressure to put on the child. What pressure to put on me! Apparently, I'm supposed to be one of those to be "berde ang utak." If the child don't grow up to be brilliant, no finger-pointing please!

So the unang subo. That was weird.

It's supposed to mark the child's transition from liquids to solids. Usually at 6 months, but "they" said 4 months would be ok now, too. By "they," I do not know if Ate J was referring to doctors or just people in general.

So, there I was, in no position really to refuse. Get a pingot of calamay, Ate J said, and feed it to her. Le bebe, salivating as most of them little mammals do, kept pushing the pingot out. Nom, nom, nom went the baby, forcing the pingot of calamay out. "Ipasok mo, Ah-nette! Ipasok mo!" Meaning, shove the food back in there! "Kain, Ineng! Kain!"

Boy, was I uncomfortable with all this. I felt like I was violating the poor child, shoving my finger into her toothless mouth! I wonder if she had any teeth, would she have chomped my finger off in resistance? Feeling pressured by her two aunts -- Ate J who was coaching me and Ate F who was holding the baby -- I thought I'd scrape the mole-sized calamay off my finger against her palate where tooth would soon grow. My fingers seemed HUGE for that little mouth. And I felt bad that she was gurgling at me wide-eyed.

Ah, but yes, finally, the calamay was off my finger! Oh, but go and pingot another one! Agh! Repeat steps 1, 2, and 3.

Success.

But oh, feed her some fat!

Geebus. I don't even eat that myself ... and I'm pretty sure that ain't healthy for your baby. But who am I to contest, eh?! I tore off the smallest and softest bit of fat from the sahog sa pancit and fed it to the 4-month old. And then, it was all over.

The aunts and I were chatting about this and that, playing with the baby, then alternating her milk and water bottles.

And then Ate J remembers something. "Ay, Diyos ko po! Nalimutan ko ang ostiya!" and she grabs a little plastic bag with a single wafer of the Lord's body. Good grief, I sighed inside.

Thankfully, a wafer is easier to feed a baby than sticky calamay or greasy pork fat. Ate J was so worried that she had reversed the order in which the unang subo was supposed to be. But I did my best to assure her, "Ok lang po 'yan! Magsasama-sama rin lang naman 'yan sa tiyan," when honestly, I was clueless about this strange practice.

There were some other baby practices that freaked me out as well! Like Ate J patting powder, and powder, and powder on the little one's pee pee before putting on her diaper. And how her daughter, K, would pinch the little one's pee pee, too. There was hilot and masahe ng pepe "para hindi lumaki." "Ah, gan'on po ba? E bakit niyo pinaliliit? Di ba kung ano na siya, ganun na?" They were also pinching her little boobs -- para daw maganda paglaki. And there was the bigkis around the baby's abdomen to make sure she grew up sexay -- a nice, Coca-cola bodeh, so to speak.

When I was gently squishing the child's cheeks, Ate J asked me what that was supposed to do. "Ah, dapat din bang ganyanin?" "Ay, hindi po. Ewan ko. Nilalaro ko lang." Yeeps, I didn't know I was doing anything.

As I was lifting up little MFA's shirt to peek at her belly button -- something I always do with little bebes -- I asked where her cord went. Ate J pointed to the ceiling. To a red, crocheted wallet-thing-a-majig she had sewn herself. It was hanging next to a gold pineapple with red tassles. "Para hindi layas. Yung iba pa nga, binabaon e." "At kahit kailan po, hindi niyo na 'yan itatapon?" "Hindi na." Cringe!!!

There was also a string of native garlic hanging from another corner of the ceiling, near the altar of Sto Ninos, images of Christ, statues of Mary, and a picture each of Ate J's mother and old boss -- both deceased now. What's the garlic for, Ate J? "Ah, kasi nung buntis si DT, para mawala ang ik-ik (paniki). Kasi maano daw ang buntis, diba?" Like, hot to the eye or attractive to bats or maybe other spirits.

All these rituals and beliefs aside, what perhaps freaked me out the most was how strong they swung the child in her little duyan which hung from both sides of her house. Talk about SWIIIIING! It must have shown on my face, I cannot imagine my cringe not showing.

I was afraid the child would fly out the single window of her single-room house. I had read in a magazine or heard on a TV show before that rocking babies that hard could actually hurt them -- make them dizzy or shake up their brain or something. Whatever it was, that rocking was not gentle. The baby's eyes started rolling, then shutting. "Inaantok na." "Baka nahihilo na kamo!" I whispered to myself.

I am not sure if this strategy of putting a baby to sleep would be advisable to American and Western parents (not to orientalize) when they complain of how difficult it is to put their children to bed. Hey, I have a tip for you: Rock them hard 'til they get so dizzy they have no choice but to fall asleep. That's the Filipino way.

All in all, that was a lesson in baby care. What not to do when I have children.

:O

Alam Mo Yung Huli sa Balita?

2008-05-06T20:57:00.002+07:00

Finger pointing. Direction, me.

My friend and I were talking via YM, casual, just like any night. And mid-conversation, he asked if I could him load because he couldn't find any in his town daw. Where was he? In Zimbabwe, he said. I kept pressing him, "Where are you really? And when will you pay me back? Because I WILL need to be reimbursed."

Dude! Loko lang.

Agh.

Para sa mga huli rin sa balita, heto. Prepaid load scam.

My Water Broke

2008-05-02T11:19:00.002+07:00

Late for work to begin with, I was frantic to get out of the house. Coffee! Shower! Dress up!

Well, I only got as far as the shower part. I was just a few suds away from cleanness, and I remembered I had to shave my legs -- was going to wear a pencil cut skirt to work. So I picked up my razor, raised my leg and got ready for hairless beauty. And then, SNAP!

The pipe in my shower cracked. My water broke.

Fortunately, I had already rinsed myself, save for a few soapy spots here and there. I dipped my dipper deep into the very little water I had left in my bucket. And ran out in a towel. Dripping, I searched for the switch in my bathroom -- stop the water! Stop the water! Couldn't find it, so I threw on a dress and looked for the main switch by my apartment gate. Ha. Got it. Watery mess averted.

It's one of those stupid mistakes that you just realize was so avoidable in the split-second you committed the retarded foul up. But the realization comes a split-second too late, nonetheless.

Like my dad, yesterday -- forcing a wrong pin 3 times, resulting in card capture. I asked him, "How come you didn't call me the first time the card got rejected?" "I knew it was gonna get eaten, it kept saying 'Wrong pin.' But I was getting tired standing up."

Gar.

Avoidable messes.

Now if only the plumber could come NOW.

Tomorrow, I should tell you about the Anay Man

2008-04-30T20:10:00.001+07:00

But tonight, I will simply leave you with some Nietszche.

Useful Writing Tips from Dinosaur Comics

2008-04-29T21:59:00.004+07:00

Kudos to Jam and Andy for teaching me their Intarweb-savvy ways. (Click on it to make it biggar.)

Places Internet Boredom Lead Me To

2008-04-23T20:39:00.003+07:00

Some songs in graph form ...

see more song memes

And then some ...

These hot days

2008-04-20T14:35:00.003+07:00

... call for a nice, big tub of ice cream.

Spot.ph says Magnolia has come out with new ice cream tubs. I've not seen them around. But you know I'll have one of these little tubbies for myself. That and a spoon!

Rusty as a Rusty ... Thing

2008-04-15T01:17:00.002+07:00

See? I couldn't even think of something that would seem "naturally" rusty!

I am spending an exorbitant amount of time on a stupid 700-word article on the Asian rice crisis. Agh, I'M IN CRISIS!

At one point in the writing process, I wonder, is it where I DON'T take a long time. I take forever psyching myself up to read my stuff, forever to start just playing with stuff in my head, then forever WRITING. Agh.

Sometime last year or so, an aunt invited me to watch one of the proceedings of the Nicole Rape Case. I went ... and it was very interesting. Then, her request was for me to write about it. I read all the articles on the net I could find, and I watched as much of the news as I could. I could hold a semi-intelligent conversation with you about it, but for the life of me, I could not write about it!!!

What was I to say that was not already said before, and in such eloquent ways?

When the deadline for my piece could no longer be denied, I locked myself up in the computer room and wrote. A loooot of breaks after (cigarettes and The Sugarcubes' "Birthday" on my iPod), I finally composed something quite decent. And I emailed it.

It was for Nicole's 22nd birthday, and I wrote to her as a peer. I wasn't able to attend her celebration, however, my aunt read out my open letter in my stead. She liked it. And so did "the" or some others. One "other" being Cheche Lazaro, she said.

The respected news-woman wanted to meet me, my aunt told me after. It was too bad.

If only they knew how long it took me to write what seemed, afterwards, as a simple but well-written enough open letter like that. Aagh.

One of my guilty pleasures is writing business letters. It takes me about half an hour to compose one, but I am always thrilled to read it and send it and read it again.

I am retarded.

I fixed myself some instant noodles. With egg. Woot.

¡El Intarweb es Una Cosa Mala!

2008-04-13T11:14:00.003+07:00

¡Es malo! Lo digo. Pero quiero mucho. ¡Mucho, mucho!

Tengo muchas cosas para hacer, como dos composiciones sobre de crisis de arroz y los movimentos sociales. Pero me miran Estoy aqui -- toca mi gitara, veo Manu Chao por el Intarweb. It's a lot of fan!!!

Es mucha diversión. Y es la verdad. Trato de enseñarme español. Y francés tambien. Enseñarme los dos y canto en ésos lenguas. Aún holandés a veces. ... Hay mucha confusion. Pero no importa!

Vincero, vinceroooooooooooooo!!!

+ + +

For breakfast, I nuked some noodles but made the silly mistake of covering it with its little lid. Thus, they were undercooked. But too late, I had already mixed the sauce into it before realizing they were a bit under. And so, despite my very good cup of freshly brewed coffee (beans ground just before brewing), my breakfast was not satisfactory.

I have not done the grocery in a week, and so I've no edible bread. And the left over food in my fridge are at least a week old. So unless I don't mind getting a weird belly, that is a no go. I am tired of the Yellow Cab Pizza I ordered, now only 2 slices remaining of my 10" purchase. But I don't have anything delectable to cook -- and I don't want to go out.

Hmm ... what to call for delivery? No more pizza, that's for sure!!!

Ok ... Am I ready now? Procrastination over?

Must have some lunch, get in the zone and WRITE my article!!! At least 1 of 2 that I must submit in the next 2 days.

Toodles.

La Vida es Una Tombola ...

2008-04-12T11:42:00.003+07:00

Y'arriba, y'arriba.

Last song syndrome. Manu Chao.

+ + +

I ordered take out/delivery for the very first time today. To be sent to my new apartment where I have been living alone for the past 2 months or so now. And I must say, there was an excitement in me.

Looking at the Yellow Cab Pizza menu on clickthecity, I felt pretty grown up. And as I placed my order over the phone, boy did I feel like Sandra Bullock in Two Weeks' Notice. I am a retard, aren't I?

Now, I wonder if there's any Chinese delivery nearby. I hope they serve food in paper boxes! And then, I'll order one of No. 8, whatever that is. And maybe two of No. 12. Yes, that's for one.

... I wonder too if I'll bump into Hugh Grant somewhere, and then we'll eat tofu cheesecake on the rooftop after he walks around my tiny pad quite, measuring my floor area with his big, manly steps.

This lady is lost in space, obviously.

Now, where's my pizzaaaah?

Quite Fantastic -- On Free Meals, A Good Day, and Doggehs

2008-04-10T22:50:00.003+07:00

Ahhhhhh, what a wonderfully fantastic day to break my string of iffy, if not bad, days.

I scored not one but TWO free meals today! Lunch care of S -- sana, araw-araw, may 12.5 G cash advance!!! Dinner care of K who I've not seen in months!

At Tiendesitas, my first time there mind you, K and I drooled over doggehs. I was infatuated with one particular little doggeh there, a white/cream French bulldog. I was speaking to it in French, but it didn't respond in the same tongue! ... well, I guess mas marunong 'ata siyang mag-Chinese kasi sabi nung pet store guy, sa Taiwan daw siya galing. Eh, hindi naman ako marunong mag-Chinese, ano? Yun talaga ang lost in translation. But boy, was he A-dorable, B-so beautiful and C-full of charm!!!

I've never really had a "How much is the doggy in the window" thing. But this was it. Dizwaziiiiiiit! I swearz ... I don't think I've ever been more enamored by an expensive little alive thing. Oh, the purchase that keeps on charging!!!!! Just think of pet-food, doctor's visits, shampoo, and of course the little bed and leash and toys that I'll want to buy for him. But you see, just to get him out of that little window and into my warm, caring arms would be a whopping 40Gs in damage!

I wonder if getting my light, Internet, and water cut off is worth getting a dog. And then, after I claim him, we will be both on the street!!! No more money for rent, my lovely little puppy. We will be evicted, fo sho!!!

I wonder if PBeyotch will let us crash in her pad. ... We will keep Leon and now-pretty-dead Rocky good company, won't we?

Oh ... desire. Desire for things one cannot possibly have ... yet.

New goal-setting, dear folks. I will buy me a doggeh.

But while I am ill-equipped for that, I think I'll check up on my Nintendogs who I've not fed in months. Hahaha.

*** Hi, PBeyotch! Leon and I miss you!!! When you get back, let's go to Tiendesitas (maybe with Leon) and meet my future doggeh.

Big day tomorrow. Wish me luck!

I Didn't Steal the Bitch's Dye!

2008-04-09T23:46:00.004+07:00

S and I burned the telephone line tonight. It was very fun ... Phones are fun. I must say, I have always lamented the death of the landline. But perhaps, tonight shows some hope!

My cellphone signal on the ground floor of the apartment sucks. I'd be lucky to have one bar ... which I'm often not. So my phone must be put at its maximum alert volume, then perched outside our downstairs window sill, or on the railing of our 2nd floor landing. It is highly inconvenient to text when I'm hanging out downstairs watching TV or surfing my most-loved toy as of late: they Intarweb.

+ + +

I had been starving myself since last Thursday. Feeling half-numb and half-dejected, I wanted to feel something real. So, I resorted to hunger ... to remind me that I was still alive.

I had been beating myself up for something un-worth-it. But tonight, the hunger was irresistible and it needed to be quenched. And boy, was I happy I did ...

I dug into my 5-day old or so rice that had been sitting in the fridge, and reheated my chicken-corn-and-pechay concoction. I was satisfied. And I felt better.

Clarity is coming slowly, after the blow that was dealt me last Thursday.

Abangan ang susunod na kabanata.

Nasty Little Buggers!

2008-04-07T22:38:00.002+07:00

They weren't there when I left for Bataan yesterday. But now, they've made burrows/hills in my cupboards! Termites!!!!

I was so freaked out. Am calling the landlady tomorrow morning, first thing!

/Shudder.

Conan O'Brien's Commencement Speech 2006 - Stuyvesant High

2008-04-05T21:04:00.002+07:00

Well, here's to life without cable tv. Am surprised I've lasted this long. ... I shall persevere!

As such, the Internet has really been my source of entertainment. And my hundred plus or so dibidis. Surfing and keying in various things on Youtube, I came across this. I do miss cable tv, and Late Night with Conan. But thank goodness, there are other channels to see him.

Also feeling a bit down these past few days, this was a much welcomed Internet find. Apologies for not knowing how to use lj cuts -- or, blogspot cuts, if there are any.

Alright, yeeaaaah! I said yeeaaaah! Thank you. Thank you graduating seniors, faculty, parents....(several girls shout "we love you Conan!") I love you too sir. Thank you graduating seniors, faculty, parents, SAT tutors, college placement coaches, jealous siblings, grandparents who have no idea who I am... (applause) "Who is this horrible man?" and people who wandered in accidentally because they have season tickets to Lincoln center.
Before I begin, I'd like to thank you for inviting me today. Over the years, I have been asked to give commencement speeches at many prestigious institutions. Just last year, I was offered fifty thousand dollars to speak at a graduation. But I said, "you go to hell, Bronx Science!" (applause) Then they said "sixty thousand!" And I took it but I never showed up! Man, those guys are idiots.

Hang on, grandma. "What's happening?" I am truly honored to be here today. Of course when I first got the call no one mentioned I'd have to show up at 8:45 in the morning and wear a dress. By the way, true story, I am wearing a ceremonial robe decorated in the colors of my Alma Mater, Harvard University. (applause) But I choose to wear it because it's the fastest way to let everyone know I'm a pompous, self-important jackass. (applause) I'll go to Starbucks later, "I'll have a mocha latte, BUT DON'T STAIN MY ROBE!" By the way, if you're curious, yes, under this thing I am going commando. (students "woo"-ing) I call it "Conando." That was dumb.

I'm especially honored because I was told it was the students who wanted me to be here today. It's very flattering to know I was up there with your other first choices, skateboarder Tony Hawk and Bow Wow. This is a sentimental occasion for me, because I remember my own high school graduation so very well. Just like you, I sat in a large auditorium, daydreaming about experiences yet to come -- college, my first job, puberty... thirty eight.

Yes, I'm even reminded of something my dad said to me at my graduation. He put his hand on my shoulder, looked me right in the eye and said, "I'm not your father." Then he wrapped me in his strong, Samoan arms and said "don't ever call me." Yes, graduation is a day you'll never forget. Many of you have been signing notes in each other's yearbooks that you will read years from now. Things like "best friends forever" or "keep in touch," and that's fine. But you might want to do what I did. I wrote incredibly specific, untrue memories, just to confuse my friends when they look in their yearbooks twenty years from now. Greatest thing I ever did. I wrote things like "I'll never forget the time you stole those mothballs, you shoe-sniffin' wild man!" or "keep head butting alligators, señor Cinnamon Shorts!" They call me twenty years later, "what does it mean?!"

Yes, you should cherish this day because this morning is one of the most important experiences of your life. Then, afterwards, it's off to brunch with your parents. Starts off well, but halfway through they mention dinner plans with your grandparents and aunt Rose who hasn't seen you in ages. "But I made plans," you say. "I'm going out with Kirsten and Dylan, there's a party at Galapagos and JR has rented the VIP room." "But aunt Rose came all the way from Garden City," they say. "And who's this JR?" Suddenly you jump up from the table, "OH MY GOD, IT'S JASON RUBENSTEIN, I TOLD YOU THIS LIKE TWENTY TIMES, I TOLD YOU TWENTY TIMES, YOU DON'T LISTEN!" So enjoy that.

Because this ceremony is so important I have thoroughly compared and researched yours school. According to wikipedia which I visited... (applause) ... not five minutes ago on my blackberry, your school is named after Peter Stuyvesant, head of the Dutch West India Trading Company. This explains, by the way, why your teachers are still paid in grain and bags of salt. Stuyvesant, as you know, true story, is not your typical high school. In 1950, this really happened, in 1950, students in Stuyvesant tried to build a particle accelerator. By way of comparison, that's the same year my public high school discovered fire. (Conan makes a caveman noise) In 1969, girls were admitted to Stuyvesant for the first time (applause). This started a new trend among the boys called showering. You didn't want to be here pre-1969.

Today Stuyvesant has a remarkably diverse and varied student body, ranging from math geeks to science nerds. Yes, you're a glorious beautiful rainbow of brainiacs. And that can be very intimidating, let's face it, most of you are smarter than me. it's a proven fact that as you get older, your brain shrinks and you get dumber. This is why you have to explain to your parents how a TIVO works and they have to explain to your grandparents how a cat works. Even I've gotten a lot dumber, I graduated from Harvard 20 years ago, and I am currently reading at the 6th grade level. If anyone here spoils the ending of Charlotte's Web, I am so going to freak.

So what can I tell you this morning? What advice can I give you? Well, I'll tell you what I won't do -- I won't sprout a lot of meaningless clichés, you know the ones, the trite phrases that pollute most commencement speeches -- "reach for the stars," "follow your dreams," "keep your eyes on the prize." No, you guys are too smart for clichés, so I'm going to give you real concrete advice that will get you through the next four years of college.

Number one: most of you are going to competitive schools, so psych-out the competition right away. It's simple, here's how you do it -- show up at freshman orientation with a copy of Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time and a black magic marker. Sit in the dining hall and start crossing out whole paragraphs of the book while yelling "WRONG, IDIOT!" "TRY AGAIN HAWKING!" "This guy's an ass!"

Number two: rip out a picture in a magazine of a hot guy or girl and frame it. Tell people its your boy or girlfriend who goes to Ohio-Wesleyan and that your relationship is purely physical. When people ask you why she looks suspiciously like Jessica Alba throw a hot tray in their face and run away.

Three: be warned, everyone has a weird roommate. If you don't have a weird roommate, then you're the weird room mate. (applause)

Four: if you want to get out of a test, don't say you have a family emergency. Everyone says they have a family emergency in college and it never works. Say you have diarrhea. No one ever says they have diarrhea unless they do.

Five -- write these down, these work. Five: some of you guys will be tempted to grow a goatee. Do not grow a goatee. A goatee is just a beard with low self esteem. On the same note, some of you girls will be tempted to get a lower back tattoo. I just want to say -- that's totally awesome. (applause, principal shakes his head) My message is a little different than your message. You won't invite me back.

Number six: people will tell you that your future depends on what major you choose. This is not true. Einstein majored in hotel management. Dick Cheney majored in modern dance, and Britney Spears wrote a thesis on socialist labor relationships in post-glasnost Poland.

Alright, those are silly and a complete waste of time. But believe it or not, I actually do have some real advice for you. I don't want to freak you guys out, but twenty five years ago, I could have been any one of you. I went to a public high school, and I was a bright, ambitious, hard working kid who wanted more than anything to go to a good college. The only problem is, I was much more interested in succeeding than in really learning. When you're a smart kid in a competitive school, it's an easy trap to fall into. So I did a lot of things in high school not because I enjoyed them but because I thought they look good on an application. I think you know what I'm talking about. I was on a debate team -- hated it. I ran track -- I was terrible, I got so bored running the two mile that I tried to talk with my opponents during the race. "what are you gonna do later, I mean you gonna be doing something later?" I joined school government -- hated it. Of course, like many of you I worried obsessively about my GPA and my SAT scores. And of course, it worked. I got into the college of my choice and to this day I'm proud of the work I did in high school.

But old habits die hard. Once I got into college, I had every intention of joylessly grinding away again. I was gonna turn college into just another step on the road to being successful, whatever that meant. I told people my plan was to go to graduate school in law or government, just because I thought that's what smart people were supposed to do. And then something really weird happened. My roommate -- by the way, he was the weird roommate -- my roommate was going to an orientation meeting at the Harvard Lampoon, the school humor magazine, and I decided for some reason to tag along. I wrote one piece, then I wrote another piece, then another. Before long, I was running the place. The only difference was, I was joyously happy. I was succeeding at something because I loved the process, not because I was trying to get anywhere. I had found the thing I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and I honestly didn't care where it took me or what it paid.

So when I graduated form college in 1985 I told my parents "thanks for the amazing Ivy League education, now I want to be a comedian." Later, in the emergency room after they woke up, they said they were fine with my decision, and I was on my way. I've had a lot of highs, I've had my share of lows, but if I hadn't allowed myself to experiment and risk doing something without a clear career payoff, I might have missed out on so much. I never would have written for Saturday night live. I wouldn't have preformed in stage in Chicago in a diaper in 1988. I never would have spent hours crafting the Homer Simpson line, "the bee bit my bottom and now my bottom is big." I never would have jumped out of a window in the South Park movie. I never would have danced with the masturbating bear or been pooped on by Triumph the insult Comic Dog. I never would have swam naked in Arctic water with the Finnish Ministry of Defense. Yes, it's been a wasted life. But I honestly believe that I found the best use for Conan O' Brien. Don't get me wrong, I've worked extremely hard at being an ass, and yes I've made some sweet, sweet coin. I do very well. (applause)

What I'm asking you to consider is that the next four years don't have to be just a stepping stone. You are very bright, impressive young people. But for the last four years, your GPA has been calculated to two decimal points and you've pushed yourselves very hard. Many of you have succeeded because you have stuck to a very rigid and linear path and that is fine, that's fine, all I'm asking you to do in college is to take a moment every now and then, breathe, look around you. If something intrigues you, take a small chance. You might just find your entire life you've been planning on. It could be bio-physics, it could be medicine, could be puppetry, could be ultimate fighting, beekeeping, government, or whatever the hell it is Ryan Seacrest does. Don't really know what that is.

The point is, at this moment, many of you have ideas of what you want to do with your life, but for many of you those ideas will change. And that's because you think you know who you are right now, but you really don't. Trust me, when I look back at 18 year old Conan it's a ridiculous sight -- six feet four inches of pale skin and bone, scared of girls, squeaky voice -- I'm sorry, that's 43 year old Conan. But life and the choices I made have changed me in a thousand ways. None of it would have happened if I had rigidly kept my eyes on the prize and decided with great determination to follow my dream, because I didn't have the slightest idea what my dream was when I was 18. It had to find me. So enjoy the next phase of your life, make sure you enjoy today as well. You've all achieved something pretty remarkable today and you should be infinitely proud.

Before I go, let me leave you with one last message. Tonight, many of you will party -- it could get pretty rockin'. All I ask is that you remember to stop for a moment, take out your cell phone, and invite me along. My home number is 212-664-3737, seriously, I have no plans. Thank you and congratulations.

I Love Music[als]

2008-03-26T23:36:00.003+07:00

I saw Lea Salonga's commercial on TV, the liquid powder thingy, with her daughter Nicole. What initially started out as a chismis hunt on the net for pictures and info of her daughter (because celebrity news and not so news gets me off) progressed into a reminiscing of the musicals that I grew to love as a kid.

Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, Sunset Boulevard. I didn't realize how huge a privilege that was to have watched all those plays at a very young age. And I think my parents truly instilled in me a value for and interest in culture.

The musical I ever watched, I believe, was Cats. But as I was so young, I had forgotten about most of this. What I do remember seeing was Phantom of the Opera. I remember my sister putting her hand over my eyes when the Phantom was about to tear off his mask. I was 5, maybe, in the States. But the second time I saw it, in CCP, I was old enough not to cover my eyes and cry in fright. The music still gave me the chills because some of them were really eerie. But I loved it!

Have to say though, Les Mis is my favorite. I also watched that at least two times. Once in the States, once here.

My newer addition was Sunset Boulevard which my sister and I watched in London in 1995/1996. It was just a sister-sister date thing, and a new play for both of us. (My parents and tito and tita were out on the streets participating in some peace rally thing in London while were vacationing there, and so my sister and I split from them.) And lucky we were to have caught Petula Clark as Norma Desmond. Sigh!

Now that I'm making my own money; no matter how little of it I actually make, and how I don't have disposable income, strictly speaking; I realize what a lucky bastard I was to have watched all the plays that I had as a young child. I didn't realize how "different" that was and uncommon for most kids here my age.

I am saddened by the fact that I can't really afford to watch plays here ... in fact, I'm not in the right circle to really know if there's any good theater stuff going on. And I guess I'm quite the broadway type, so the other stuff doesn't get to my radar.

I dunno ... Oh, the good things in the past. They seem so far away.

O Hai, I'm in PBeyotch's Crib ...

2008-03-26T19:46:00.002+07:00

... stealin' her TV.

American Idol is boring me to death tonight. And Project Runway's taking so long to air. So in a bored daze, I took this test. And yay me ... because cilantro IS my favorite herb. Yay, cilantro!

You Are Cilantro

The bad news is that there are some people who can't stand you.

The good news is that most people love you more than anything else in the world.

You are distinct, unusual, fresh, and very controversial. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

What Spice Are You?

Hate Late?

2008-03-25T11:55:00.002+07:00

I do.

I don't mind a little late. But 2 hours is not a little. And I wouldn't even be surprised if they were more than 2 hours late.

My officemates and I had, what seemed to me, a pretty solid agreement yesterday that we'd come in early today -- 8am. Rc had to be somewhere at 9 or so -- the internet guys were installing at his new place today. I, in turn, had a 10am errand to do -- settle my phone bill with the poorly efficient Bayantel (they've been giving me a headache for weeks!)

But theses guys took forever to friggin' come! I mean, I slept at one last night but woke up about 6am so I could get here at 8. I was actually nervous that I wouldn't make it on time and make Rc late that I considered taking a cab. But no empty ones passed, so I took the first jeepneys I could hop onto (3 rides worth). Thankfully, when I got here, even though it was about 20 minutes later than my goal time, I still made it as the first one.

Well, Rc couldn't wait for the two either and left me a list of tasks. I waited some more. But I needed to do my errand. Basically, I waited 'til I was pissed off. And that is not good.

I don't friggin' care if you live in the boondocks. When we say 8, we mean 8. Or maybe a little later, sure. But not fucking 2 hours later. I hate it when other people's crap messes up my schedule.

We are all at the round table and I am in no mood for talking.

Not the Finest of Mornings

2008-03-24T08:23:00.003+07:00

It's the Monday after the long weekend. And for most people, I would assume, it ain't that easy getting back into the groove.

I try though. I hauled myself out of bed at 7am and heated bath water while brewing myself some coffee, the usual. I even had a bowl of cereal with dried cherries on top, which is a bonus since I don't usually eat breakfast. I really wanted some bacon and eggs. But I didn't have enough time to boil rice and defrost my 3-week old bacon. So maybe I'll just do that tomorrow.

With much effort, I made it out of the house. Lucky me, my stepdad drove me to the village gate and saved me a laborious hike up about a 5 hilly blocks. Took public transpo to work today ... and it was my first time to do that, too. (No, I'm not one of those sheltered middle class brats who do not know how to commute! I moved into a new place and am still familiarizing myself with the area, including the jeepney routes.)

Anyway, Jeebus Chroist! I live so much nearer to work now, but I had to take 4 rides pa! It really annoyed me. I had to take 3 jeeps and a trike (the last being sort of an accident since I overshot my stop.) Man, I might as well have lived in my old house na lang where it takes me 4 rides to get to work; at least, mas mahaba ang rides, so I'm unlikely to miss my stop.

Ewan ko ba. Hassle lang talaga itong umagang ito. I hope tomorrow will be better.

What's worse is that I have Enya's "Orinoco? whatever Flow" in my head. E, hello? I haven't heard that in forever. And I don't even like Enya? I think she sucks. So now, I must find some Beatles music on my iTunes to drown her out.

Ok ... should really be working now.

Holy Week Wednesday

2008-03-19T08:56:00.002+07:00

I am supposed to be doing bank errands today, and accounting -- house management stuff. But it is lazy times once again, my friends -- but isn't that everyday?

I moved out of my mom's house and into an apartment almost a month ago. It's been pretty sweet -- own space, own time, own appliances, all that. But also my own bills, yeah?

I've no problem with the Internet bill. Am more than willing to pay for that, as without cable, the Intarweb is one of the few available sources of amusement for me. (And boy, the Intarweb is addictive! I had never known anything like this ... but with broadband, oh, the world is my oyster. Hahar.) In general, I don't mind paying for electricity and water either ... what I hate is having to tabulate these expenses into a spreadsheet.

Yeah, some may call me OC about this. I do have OC tendencies anyway. However, I am actually being (well, trying would be more accurate) practical and careful with my resources. Am essentially managing 3 accounts, you see? 2 households, but 3 persons' money. Mine, my dad's and my stepdad's.

When Papa had a stroke last November, the change in our lives was seismic. In a matter of two weeks, my sister and I (with the help of a few close friends/family members) had to whip up a plan of how to take care of Papa -- hospital expenses, 24h nursing, post-stroke and maintenance meds, apartment rental, doctor's visits, everyday expenses. It was all very sudden, but quite remarkably, my sister and I (and her boyfriend who I loff, loff, LOFF) figured things out. We are still streamlining our "production," but I think we're reaching equilibrium. Oh, please, let us reach equilibrium soon because sometimes, I feel like my head's just going to explode.

So that's one big money thing. Then my stepdad's money -- "my" new apartment is actually his, which is barely lived in. He pays for the rent and pops in maybe once in a blue moon, while I stay here and keep it nice and functional, and basically, just live in it. I scare the bugs away.

Then, mine, of course.

I emailed my sister's boyfriend that, lame as it may sound, paying bills and having my name on them envelopes/bills makes me feel quite the mighty adult. Especially my Internet bill ... am weirdly proud of that. "If paying bills make you feel more responsible, I can send you MY Internet bill." Ahay ... saka na lang! I loff him.

So, it's Holy Week Wednesday. I cannot remember the right term for that. And I'm nothing doing. My ass is too heavy to lift from the sofa ... better yet, I can only manage to lug it around the floor area of my apartment. What is everyone else up to these days?

One thing I will haul my ass for today though is "Across the Universe." Am seeing it with friends tonight and I'm so excited. Yay!

Yay, Intarweb!

2008-03-06T22:25:00.002+07:00

I have finally gotten on to the W.W.W! I got connected last Sunday. Broadband, baby! And my friend Rc set it up for me so I could go wireless. Yay, router!

I am happy after having watched Dan in Real Life tonight, and a bowl of instant noodles right next to me. (I had been craving for this since last night!)

I am hoping to get back to journal writing, given my new "utility."

I have nothing to say really. I just wanted to smile online. Or something.

Kitchen Longing

2007-12-15T00:14:00.000+07:00

I am watching cooking shows back-to-back and was hungry to begin with.

Now, I miss my kitchen oh-ever-so-badly. Even more than yesterday!

I usually am able to do something about my cravings -- there's always something to fix up in the kitchen. I hardly ever let our pantry get bare. But here ....... sigh!!!! There are no cupboards of which to speak.

I am sad as a puppy.

A Photo

2007-12-12T21:20:00.000+07:00

This is my sister and her boyfriend picking shells on a Batangas shore.

Cravings

2007-12-12T17:50:00.000+07:00

Sometime just this past November, we had dinner at my cousin's house.

Everything was good, as usual. And I contributed some by grilling salmon. But for dessert was the piece de resistance! My cousin's bread pudding.

All the way in the boondocks, I am feeling quite homesick. I really would like some of that pudding! It was a no-nonsense dessert -- none of the frills like bananas or raisins or nothing. Just soft, sweet, and warm custard topped with soft-ish but crunchy-outside bread, drizzled with chocolate sauce. Mmm, mmm, mmm. 'Twas so good, I had to have a second serving.

I texted her that I was craving it. She said I'd have it at our Christmas party. Oh ... how long a wait?! She sent me a virtual kiss and I promised to sit still, or at least try.

+ + +

I lament this distance from my beloved kitchen.

Truly, for the past years, it has become a place of comfort for me.

After graduation, I had all this time I did not know what to do with. And so, I began to experiment in the kitchen. Some people start in the kitchen early. My sister said she started late, say, at like 12 or 14. I said I started even later! At the age of what, 22? But Patrick, my sister's bf and a "recovering chef," said "But you threw yourself into it." That, I did.

Each day, I would flip through my cookbooks, marking each interesting recipe with a post-it flag. I would also watch cooking shows back to back. In the morning, I'd watch something, then head to the market to cook that very same thing or something else inspired by it. In the evening, I'd watch Rachael Ray, then cook whatever she cooked the day after. Or Bobby Flay!

Sundays, I would only cook after watching Iron Chef! And Papa would be the lucky person to sample all this.

Even after taking on a part-time job, I still had loads of time. So Pachot and I, a family friend who lived with us for a good while, would bake. Lord knows how many cookie recipes we've tried out!!!

But today, I am sooooo far away from my kitchen! I truly miss my stainless steel bowls and my whisk. I would like to have the smell of cookies in the oven envelope the whole house! Alas, there is none of the sort here. No oven. No stainless steel bowls. Nada.

Oh ...

The Martha in me is blue. Very blue, indeed.

Turning Twenty-Four

2007-12-12T10:06:00.000+07:00

Am turning a year older on the 21st, but will still be out of town on the day itself. So I am postponing my celebration for the 23rd.

Am trying not to get my hopes up too high, but I am getting excited! This is the first time I'll be celebrating my birthday as a lunch party AND potluck! So far, I've pledges for
1. chicken parmigiana
2. a gallon of vanilla ice cream
3. soda
4. a bottle of wine
5. hard drinks

I wonder what other stuff I should ask pledges for.

Arner just told me he'd also bring his DVD of Kamikaze Girls ... that should be fun!

I've missed my friends really bad, and I am particularly touched that a few have really promised to be there. They didn't even know the plan yet, but they just blocked off the date anyway and waited for what I'd come up with. That is really sweet.

I love December and I love that my birthday comes at the end of the year, too. Sometimes, I feel mopey towards my birthday and have second thoughts of actually celebrating it. But I know myself enough that I get tired of moping easily and that I hate being lonely on birthdays.

This year will be a small birthday party -- really only the closest are coming. (Unfortunately, there are some that I did not even invite because I knew they wouldn't be able to make it, e.g. Ant who will be in Cebu. But he knows ... and we both said we'd find another time to meet up.)

It is really important for me to see my loved ones this season -- for Christmas and for my birthday. I am glad that there are still a good number who care for me. It is wonderful to be loved back.

My Poor Mother

2007-12-10T14:39:00.001+07:00

She rubs everyone the wrong way now.

And here I am, throwing around my dirty laundry like confetti.

She's to visit my dad in the province this Thursday, she says. And although I wish she would not bother, I gave her directions there, anyway. What will she do there? What will they talk about? What havoc will she wreak?

I feel as if I should protect everything I love from her. And pray that she does not read this.

A Good Lunch

2007-12-10T12:42:00.001+07:00

The research team is complete. All four of us ate take out from Red Ribbon. All full with food and laughter.

Stan serenaded us with his crazy (s)exploits. He was so funny, I had to pee.

Now, it's back to work.

Present for Me!

2007-12-08T19:22:00.000+07:00

I bought me a 160 GB external hard drive today. As a gift for meeee! Yay!

It set me back 4 grand. So I am now poor. Tsk.

I had a scare with all my work files a few weeks back, you see? They became inaccessible, though I did nothing out of the ordinary with them. They just wouldn't open! But good thing I had the computer technician in Bataan fiddle with it, and he got them back.

That my computer is getting slow and acted up last week are signs that it is about to die, my friends say. So before I DIE of a heart attack because of lost files, am backing them up now.

Merry Christmas to me.

Now I'd like to get some shut eye. Oh, so sleep deprived!

And the Wind Cries ... Merry?

2007-12-07T10:45:00.000+07:00

The breeze says it's Christmastime.

Am out in the dirty kitchen, my laptop perched on the equally dirty and banged up kitchen table, surrounded by an assortment of junk: a container with kitchen utensils sticking out, a pack of half-eaten graham crackers (brunch) and a mug of half-drank coffee. Two cigarette butts (one for today, one for yesterday) lie in their own ashes in a makeshift ashtray (our landlady's chipped mug).

Why does December always bring with it a sense of somberness? Maybe it's the cool. Maybe it's the distance of family (tied to me by blood or friendship) -- only now to I feel that I have been away from home for so long.

Recent events have made me realize the weight of my research work. And in a sense, I am glad. I can see my respondents with much more sympathy now, I think. The distance, loneliness, and struggle to keep close to loved ones despite the wide expanse between them is just more real to me now.

+ + +

On the bus here, I woke up crying. I missed my sister and family in general. We are all so far apart: Ate in the States, Papa in Bataan, WB flying around (he just got back from Canada and Bangkok, and off to Bali today), and my mom (who's here, but distant from me in another way).

I am trying hard to remember what family was like in better days. And what it means to have family. And how it is to try to be family now.

+ + +

When Papa had a stroke last Nov. 16, my sister and I rushed to see him (I from Batangas, and she from the States). My Titas also rushed from Laguna and Bicol to see him.

It was bittersweet because we hardly spend time with our father's side of the family. But this holiday season will be different. For the first time (I dunno if that's first time ever, or first time in a long time), us Ferrers will be together in Papa's new apartment in Bataan to celebrate Christmas and New Year's.

I will be there, hopefully with the usual bunch Papa and I spend Christmas Day with, on the 25th. While my cousin and Tita from Bicol will follow on the 26th thru to Jan 31.

I will be happy to be with family.

My Sister Would be So Proud ...

2007-12-06T19:42:00.000+07:00

That I've been eating healthy the past two days I've been back in Batangas.

Sausage-egg McMuffin for breakfast, McDonald's longanisa meal for lunch, and Greenwich pizza for dinner two nights in a row.

Come to think of it, Greenwich pizza isn't that bad, really. The crust is actually quite yummy, as long as you eat it warm.

There you go.

False Alarm

2007-11-08T21:09:00.000+07:00

We're staying longer.

We all had a feeling. If we were to really to pull out on the 15th, why hasn't there been a panic or severe whip-cracking?

RSC is here tonight and has delivered the news. "We're extended! Half a month, but not more than a month. End of November, probably. ... and FVA's coming in two weeks' time."

The pressure is on now to start summarizing the [emerging] patterns and to write an abstract. Well, that's one tangible thing that should have been harped on! For some reason, the writing part [that I'd do myself] has not been really in my consciousness. Where are my narratives? And where are the patterns? I have only just begun. So I'd better keep my eyes and ears peeled. Gotta have something to write about.

"Is anyone taking a weekend off?" RSC asks. Erm, no.

I'll make a quick trip to the city soon though ... I need clean clothes!

And mother is back. May have to make a courtesy call.

Pretty Psyched

2007-11-05T17:09:00.000+07:00

That, I am.

The moping of last night and the past few weeks has turned to excitement. We are going home.

Today was a good day in the field, one that felt like the first in a long time. I realized that crunch time is quite fun. And that maybe I don't totally suck.

I began reflecting on what things I've seen and learned in the field, who I've met, and how I've changed. And I am glad about the things I realized ... like, I can live a bit more simply now. I can survive with just one towel instead of two (for my hair and for my bodeh). I can also kind of not make such a big fuss about the mess in the house and be pissed about dirty dishes. I am not a slob yet, but I have learned to let some things go. Furthermore, I have been privileged to meet other people and be introduced to their families and let into their homes. My time here may be fleeting. Soon, they might not be able to remember me, nor I them ... but I am not going home empty handed.

For a while, I felt like an outsider in many ways ... the two major ones: 1) Batangas culture then 2) family culture -- I have not felt like I've had a family in a long time. But things are changing, I think and I hope ... My sister forwarded an email to me today. Our mother emailed her a sane message and we are taking steps to mend our brokenness.

Ate is coming home with Patrick and this has been something I've been looking forward to for months. January is just around the corner now, and I can't wait to be with family I actually like.

Things are happening, things are happening. Only that much can I say right now.

I hope this good mood persists. Today is the first time I've gotten dancy over new sounds. I likes Timbaland, indeed.

It's the Final Countdown

2007-11-04T21:11:00.000+07:00

By tomorrow, it will be only 10 more days in the field, if things go according to plan.

Since the last few days of October, I've been stressing out ... How can we leave the field when my data is so bare? True, true, the data I'm expected to gather is not as thick as in our rural site. But still, for the most part, I do not understand where all the time went and what I have been doing with it.

So since we got back yesterday after the Undas break, I have been trying to do interviews. It's like thesis. Cramming. The difference is, this is the real world and the repercussions is not a failing grade but the possible loss of job. Seriously, I had been thinking of what to do next in my life. Had I blown it? Will I be known as the honor student who was nothing but disappointed. I was wondering this morning how I could run off to the US instead and make a career shift there. Or something.

But tonight at Starbucks, my team mate S and team leader RSC were comforting. Complete the census, and we will be able to generate data from that. Plus, I do have a few interviews, don't I?

Ok. Well, what can we do now, right? Will just do my best given the little remaining time. "So, I am not losing my job yet?" "No," team leader says. Good.

I am not totally moved by the words of consolation and encouragement. With a little more self-pushing, I might have been able to accomplish more. But what's the use of crying over spilt milk?

So, we'll see how the next few days go.

Talking to Myself

2007-10-20T19:50:00.000+07:00

The kids are sleeping in the bukid tonight so it's just me here. Should be writing journal entries, especially since today was pretty eventful. But I just feel like vegging. I bought myself Hello Panda (which I've already started on), some Nagaraya, and a Snickers bar.

+ + +

Joined this new web thing called Facebook. Some of my friends have been trying to get me into it for months, but I kept resisting as I didn't want another internet thing to manage. However, 'tis fun!!! It is. I am wondering how long it'll be until I wear it out, though.

+ + +

Watching Jessica Soho reports on the Glorietta 2 bombing. Kakilabot.

A Huffin' and A Puffin'

2007-10-17T06:26:00.000+07:00

Wow. I am so tired. I am a zombie.

Slept at about 1am last night and was tossing and turning around 630 this morning. I finally pulled my lazy ass outta bed to make some coffee at 7.20, which is now. My back hurts and I'm just heavy as lead, but there's a deadline and around 16 things on my checklist, only one of which has been ticked off.

I will be happy to have a weekend this week. I feel I've really been pushing.

I Love Letters

2007-10-16T14:10:00.000+07:00

I love getting stuff in the mail. Snail mail cards are fun, and because they come in so rare now, they just have such an old-world charm.

But I don't mind electronic mail either.

Today, I just got a quick response from one of my favoritest people in IPC, the institute where I used to work; the same place that stressed me out so much I my face was having a zit fest which, until now, is slow to go away. But just the same, I must say, there are things I miss about it.

Anyway, yeah, one of my favoritest people at IPC replied a quick one to my email. He's in Davao daw, having a water workshop with other people from Southeast Asia. That man is such a charmer -- I do not believe I've met anyone who could say a bad thing about him.

I will always remember him as the guy who gave me Ghirardelli dark chocolate, 60% cacao, when I felt that my office walls were caving in on me. Looking back at it, I don't know if it was really worth all the drama -- Jeebus knows how much I cried in those last weeks at work because I felt like I had a whole dying institution on my 23-year-old shoulders. But back then, it was serious. I think I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

You can only imagine how much that scarlet red bar of chocolate meant to me. To someone who worked all day for barely anything or any recognition, stress levels forcing her to cry while filing or typing because no one else was going to do the work for her, that chocolate bar was just so symbolic. It meant that someone actually cared.

So, yes, he is such a dear soul and though we hardly get to talk at all now, and neither did we really get to spend hours and hours together in IPC, the little coffee mornings we had or chats before I went home vis a vis his evening jogs around the campus were opportunities enough for me to see how sweet and charming and oh, why he is so favorite-worthy to me and to everyone who knows him.

Aww. :)

Requiem for Mari Mar

2007-10-15T20:07:00.001+07:00

I loved, loved, loved Mari Mar growing up. RPN 9 pa yun noon. I didn't get to watch the very beginning of it, but I do believe that when I started on the 5th episode or something, I was hooked! My sister, Little Miss Elitist, was converted into a Mari Mar watcher as well, thanks to my cute littler sister prowess!

I loved Mari Mar so much that when it re-aired on Channel 2, I think, I watched again.

But now that there's Filipino version ... I ... I am so mad! They are bastardizing Mari Mar!

What's with all the sluts? Angelica, in the original series was such a classy lady, who you'd hate at times, but also feel for. What's with Katrina Halili's butt-like cleavage that can barely squish into her teeny tops?

And who are these shitload of other slutty characters? Who the fuck is Kim Chan?! Excuse me?!

Why had GMA bothered to remake Mari Mar if they were not to stay true to the spirit of the series? The only up I can give the Philippine version is the hot and non-chest-hairy-the-curly-type Sergio Santibanez played by oh-yes-former-schoolmate Dingdong Dantes. But still, he's too pretty for the part.

Do Filipinos know nothing about versimilitude? Probably not. Everyone in showbiz just has to be pretty here, eh? What a bore. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I want to kill the new writers of Mari Mar. They super suck.

Thalia, I love you! Foreverrrrrr.

Blech.

2007-10-15T12:21:00.000+07:00

I was sick for a whole week, so now I'm swamped.

I've been up since 630, and been working since 7ish. I'm tired and I'd really like a nap in an airconditioned room.

It scares me sometimes that I might not be as good as I thought I was, or as others thought I was. I mean, work-wise. I had so many expectations of myself. But this work is tough, too. Some days, I do not feel adequately trained for the job, but I'm in it. I'm scared to death that my employers will regret ever hiring me -- that I'm all fluff, with no substance, really.

I feel that time is running out so, so fast. And I cannot keep up.

I don't know why I feel so tired in the afternoons, but when I look at my accomplishments, they seem so few and far between. Why?

Gotta get back to work.

Another Phone Bites the Dust

2007-10-06T19:21:00.000+07:00

Well, ok, it's not like super dead. It's temporarily dead though. My newest phone, a pink and white Nokia flippy, conked out last night, just as I was waiting for a friend to come home from the office so we could go get lattes at Starbucks -- my only refuge in this godforsakentown.

At first, the display was getting all warpy. Then, the colors inverted (which was kinda cool). And then when I reset my phone, it would display only white. Sound the trombone. Another phone dead.

There is a host of other complications with this stupid phone thing like: I lost my atm card last Sunday and its replacement is still in Manila (by now, it should be ready) and my spare phone is also in the city. So I'm really living on the money that my boss left me, ehem, reimbursed me. But after that, that's it.

So I soooo didn't want to shell out about 5 grand for yet another phone. I went to Globe instead and checked out their subscription deals. And so, I'm getting a line now.

I don't know how exactly the fuck I'm gonna pay for it ... 800 a month. But I guess I'll just have to, yeah? Well, cussing aside, I'm excited. Here's what my phones gonna be:

Yeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!

+ + +

In other news. I'm totaaaaally addicted to Animal Crossing on DS. It is soooo funny.

I mean, I'm stuck in the field right? (Well, I didn't work all week because I got sick, and I'm still pretty weak. It sucks, for realz. But anyway ...) I get to hang out in my town named Guarana. And I have all these really fun neighbors.

We write to each other, we catch bugs and shits ... It is heeeeeelarious.

I almost died of a heart attack thinking I lost my DS tonight. But I had just put it in the cubby hole underneath the glass dining table. Thank goodness. Phew. I coulda cried!

+ + +

I don't know if I'm iron deficient now or something. But my headache just keeps coming back. Like when my ibuprofen wears off. It sucks man. Because it's like I'm woozy, without the privilege of having had the booze.

+ + +

Time for Animal Crossing!

Bitchin'

2007-10-05T13:51:00.000+07:00

Am really beginning to miss home really bad.

I was sick yesterday: dreadful headache as if someone threw hollow blocks at me. Am better now, but still a bit weak.

Normally, if I were sick, someone would take care of me: get me fruits, cook me some soup, buy me some ice cream. Papa would always get me ice cream if I felt bad. Yaya would cook random somethings to help me feel better. But yesterday, I was left alone at home curled up in bed, my stomach churning but without any appetite. I opened a pack of biscuits, didn't even get to finish that. Felt so bad.

In the evening though, I felt better after taking a pill. I had postponed taking this because they said I should eat something first. Pero di naman pala kailangang masyado marami ang kainin. I felt my appetite come back. So that was good.

+ + +

I really miss home. My bed, my house, my friends. The kitchen, having food in the fridge and in the cupboards whilst not having to battle it out with the ants.

I miss my stereo and I miss my books. I miss a clean bathroom.

Life here is becoming uncomfortable. We're like slobs -- the dishes never seem to be done fast enough. The fridge hasn't been cleaned in 2 months.

There are power outtages which means no water.

Sometimes, it just downright sucks here. I wanna go home.

Is It Time to Go Already?

2007-10-03T07:12:00.001+07:00

It's 8.13 in the morning. I'm the only one up at P's. Oh, well, now it's me and G, her yaya. She just got up from her corner next to the door. In a while, I shall be packing up and driving back. While there's no rain and no traffic. Although I hope it's not "no breakfast" for me! I'm hungry.

P's place is swinging. I like it a lot. She just got her landline and Intarnet connection and she was so excited about it, she emailed me about it.

She's also got some new furniture: a study desk and a sectional sofa (the exact style I bought for WB's pad when I was dressing it up). Must say, this lady has taste. Am glad that it's a shared one.

I've realized, and more importantly, admitted to myself this weekend that I don't like one of my roomies. And I don't really have to, do I?

I mean, it's been two months since I moved in into our Project-sponsored teeny apartment and she still hasn't changed her lazy-ass ways. It's somewhat tolerable I guess if her lazy-ass ways only affected herself. But her lazy ass is connected with our living conditions.

The first week I got there, I cleaned the bathroom because it was so fugging gross! There was mildew all over the fugging place: in between the tiles on the wall and floor, and the shower curtain wasn't spared either. I was appalled how people could live in such a place. Slobs.

Back then, I had just arrived and was careful NOT to verbalize (some of my disgust). I just kept on doing as much housework as I could and not telling people to do this and that. I mean, kakarating ko lang, mayordoma na ang drama ko? Instead, I was hoping they'd follow my example on how to do housework right. It was a time when the ants were still uber agressive on our food that any crumb you'd leave behind for a minute would, in the next minute, have a batallion of those little fuckers on it. I can't tell you the stress and agony those little bastards put me through!!!

So anyway ... well, she wouldn't be mindful of her crumbs. So first thing in the morning, I'd be wiping down the kitchen counter or the dining table because of them pests!!!

Two months after my move, T's laziness with the house chores and some other few of her little habits are really getting under my skin, man. I realize now what is second nature to some (e.g. me, S, and RSC) is not second nature to others!

I can't tell you my gratefulness and relief that S knows, and more importantly, is diligent about doing house chores. I feel that it's really just me and him who do a lot of that shit and that leaves me wondering where our odd-woman-out's time and effort go to. I mean, wtf does she do? She sleeps a lot: like first one in, last one out. Then she doesn't do the dishes, doesn't clean the bathroom, sure as hell doesn't cook (she "reheats"), doesn't do the market ... what does she do?

Thank goodness that when RSC's around, she has some sort of initiative. Like drawing water from our deep well when there was a water shortage. By her account, RSC had been busy cooking and doing random stuff in the kitchen already so she took the initiative to help him out in some other way. Wow!!! May kusa ka rin pala! Wow, I didn't know you had it in you to be embarrassed.

So yeah, she fugging annoys me. Why don't you pull your own fugging weight in the house, woman?!

I didn't realize that not all people are like my friends in terms of manners and tastes. I guess I took it for granted that all my roomies (well, that wouldn't be too many though) were cool to live with. P stayed with us for a good coupla months and she didn't give me any trouble. In fact, it was great to have her around that we still crash at each other's places. She cleans up after herself, keeps most stuff clean ... she's cool.

I am not a neat freak, mind you. I can be a slob too. But I am never sloppy when it comes to food and the bathroom man. That is just gross. Unhygenic (erm, spell?).

Gar. Apparently, I think I might have it in me to rant about this all day, huh?

Well, I resolve to have a good breakfast and have a good drive back. The whole pad's awake now. And I will not drive out too early because I know I don't want to see T at the house when I get there.

Boy, do I only realize now how much she peeves me.

Well, Hello!

2007-10-02T23:19:00.000+07:00

So, like, I'm at my friend P's house. It's pretty cool. Her pad's swinging. Just like mine, but with different benefits. Such as Intarnet.

It's 12.25 am already, but we're still not sleepy. You wanna know why? Because we're fucking loons: we sat through a whole season of Hell's Kitchen in one night. We started watching about 8.30 pm afterwhich, we had a little break to bring my best friend Z home. Then, we watched Simpsons: The Movie which bored me to sleep. But after that, I started again with Hell's Kitchen ... and didn't stop ... until about 6.30 am.

Yeah, good job me! Good job, P! She had a 10 am class and I had initially planned to head back south after bringing her to school. But guess what, we said, at about 6.30 or 7 in the morning, FUCK SCHOOL! FUCK WORK! Screw it.

We had a quick breakfast at 4 am, right before the last episode of Hell's Kitchen, Season 1. I made a banana flambe for the very first time. And it was pretty fucking good. Then, after finishing that whole season, we finally laid down to rest -- after I put on dark shawls and scarves over my cheesecloth curtains.

We woke up at 2.30 pm. It still felt like morning (because it was cool and wet after the rain). So we headed out for one of my favorite breakfasts: hot wheat pandesal and spanish sardines. Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm.

So that was fucking cool.

Then we had really good coffee with the dregs settling at the bottom (This was homemade coffee, by the way brewed in my lovely, lovely Italian coffee percolator gifted to me by an Australian friend) while watching the pilot for That 70's Show and smoking a cigarette. It was almost as good as weed, man! Mmm.

So I WAS supposed to drive back south and crawl under my provincial rock. But it was raining too hard and it was a challenge to even get out of my own neighborhood. Oh, the floods we had to avoid in my mother's little car.

I decided that I'd just crash at her place instead. I am here right now. And so is her mum who just treated us out to a fantastic dinner in Eastwood. The salad was so good, I jotted down the ingredients on a napkin. Mmm.

So yeah, fucking awesome weekend.

I am slightly dreading going back to the province. Not because I don't want to work, but because I wish there was something else to do there to amuse myself after I accomplish a day's work. Oh, and I also am peeved by a roomie. Still figuring out how to give roomie the news while not being aggressive-confrontational. It's hard when you share the same fucking small apartment, how much more that we share the same fucking bed?

For now though, lemme just enjoy this last leg of my kewl weekend. I've a cup of sweet lemon tea right beside me. It is begging to be sipped.

I'm Excited to Go Home

2007-09-29T19:22:00.000+07:00

That's really all I wanted to say.

There will be cooking and there will be Quiapo. Yay.

Halp.

2007-09-28T20:34:00.000+07:00

I'm bored.
Bored.
Bored.

I don't have anything new to say. No new friends. No places gone to.

Non-variety kills me. Halp. I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm living under a rock.

Hala!

2007-09-27T21:32:00.000+07:00

Our team leader just emailed us to come up with a 300-word abstract for possible papers we'd like to present at a conference.

Erm, I've never written a paper for a conference before!!! And although I've been doing interviews for nearly a month now, I feel insecure about my data. I do not feel that there is coherence with/in it.

My roomies are in a panic. I should be as well, but I'm not really. This is good. Pressure is good. Will force me to sit down and look at my data then plan my next steps. What angle do I want indeed?

Ok, workee time.

Still Shaky, But Standing

2007-09-26T09:47:00.000+07:00

I think I had a week or so of emo. During my weekend, I strove to relax and regroup. So I came back with a resolve: that I'd work again and make it good.

It is scary. I feel that for the most part, I am on my own. But it should be good training.

Agh.

2007-09-20T20:30:00.000+07:00

I've been out of sorts for days! I don't know what it's about really. I'm just bored, uninspired, unmoved.

I don't like it.

Oh please, let this pass.

I think I need a new crisis.

O Hai

2007-09-11T19:14:00.000+07:00

I has Internets. Iz bad. See?

I been looking at lolcats for hours now. Bads.

Will get fired from work.