Monday, December 14, 2009

The Waist of the Matter.

I put on my jeans which I bought last year and it fit me perfectly. I checked around the waist and it was an exact fit, as if the pants were tailor-made to my size.

I suffered from mild panic.

Rewind a year ago and I still remember my friend and colege blockmate asking me for my size. I told her I was a 28, but normally wear a 29. I'm not much of a fan of tight fits. Knowing better, blockmate insisted that I buy size 30, claiming that it would fit better. Inwardly, I suspected that she doesn't carry odd sizes, thus her insistence in stocks two sizes larger than my actual fit. I didn't bother to argue.

A year has passed since then, and I find myself filling my jeans perfectly at the waist. Living it day to day, I almost didn't realize how much I have foregone this year in terms of extra-curricular and physical activity. Strenuous and excessive amounts of overtime took its toll and has now presented me with a weakened state of physique.

I used to play volleyball regularly twice a week, and when late last year, I met a group of mountaineers, I began joining minor treks and beach outings. I was at my best form then; I felt taller, my scoliosis didn't seem to bother me anymore. I was reading faster and more varied authors, even.

Then the Circus started.

I began losing contact with most of my groups. My twice-weekly volleyabll was replaced with daily overtime. My monthly treks were replaces with weekend overtime. What's even more perplexing was that the more time I render at the Great Place, the more work seemed to pile up. My morning stretch routine was replaced with extended wallowing under the covers; my games replaced by irregular rotations of binge-eating and meal-skipping.

They say it takes at least three weeks to form a habit. I can't even comit two days straight to relearn my morning stretches. Thus, I'm stuck with a screaming spine, prolonged mornings of lethargy, and two inches gained in nine months.

Loss of self esteem doesn't even begin to describe what I'm suffering. I've become alienated from my groups and I only have myself to blame.

A few days ago, Brunswick paid me a surprise visit at the Great Place. He was at the area and decided to rescue me from my mundane existence, if even for a few minutes. Quick updates about the various people I lost contact with ensued, and I was cornered into promising to rejoin the group in the near future. I appreciate Brunswick's going out of his way to reconnect with me. I plan to repay his efforts by re-establishing with my network. My days of wallowing are long overdue, and it needs to stop, effective immediately.

I need to move once more, and in more ways than one.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Shirking Responsibilities: Villainy

The problem with being responsible is you are expected to sustain the role indefinetely. The moment you exhibit lapses in your role, you immediately become the villain.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Exchange Gifts

Every year, we have our exchange gift at the office where we draw lots to see who we will give gifts to. Four minor gifts will be given building up to the big reveal and the handing of the major gift during the Christmas party.

I'm finally done shopping for minor exchange gift items. For the major gift, I would have to wait a few days until the person I picked finally decides on a wishlist item.

For this year, the office picked a rather kinky theme to the minor gifts:

Something to make you hot, something for your dirty mind, something too sexy for your baby, and something you can keep for life.

Most officemates opted for the sex-laden connotation of the theme, picking massage oils, FHM magazines, underwear, even x-rated dvds.

Weird that I am, I opted to tweak the definitions a bit to fit my humor.

For something to keep hot, I picked a large box of matches and candles, fire, after all, can make you hot; it can even burn you. I'm giving a pack of erasers to clear off one's dirty mind, and a jar of honey as something one can keep for life, even forever, if one wishes to. For something too sexy for my baby, I wrapped a copy of Stephen Hawking's "A Brief History of Time", which I rescued from the bargain bin last year; nothing can be sexier than the mental farts of the largest brain in modern history.

I do hope my victim, err, my givee, can appreciate the humor I have injected into the gifts I prepared. If not, then she would just have to live with it, as I'm not in the mood for buying cheap underwear and pirated dvds.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Love, in Nerd-speak.

r=3(1-sin thetha)

So you see, love can be expressed as a mathematical equation after all. :-)

Thursday, November 19, 2009


I have seen one of the most entertaining films of the year! I would have to give credit to the whole production team for their efforts; I was impressed. The producers went to great lenghts to create this cinematic marvel; they pulled out all the stops.

Impressive car chase? Check.

Stunning CGI graphics? Check.

Affective soundtrack. Booming sound effects. Explosions! Check, check, check!

There was even a love angle to boot!

The dialogue was superb. Punchlines were delivered to the point and with so much pananché, cola almost shot through my nose. And I wasn't even drinking cola!

The actors' comedic timing was dead-on, they're funny without even trying to be. I am not so much a fan of physical comedy, and I immensely enjoyed this film's use of subtlety to illicit a laugh.

Of course, no movie is perfect, and you're bound to hit a snag every now and then, but these were forgivable. Some directors just cannot resist including a tear-jerker moment. I say, to each his own.

Over-all, one of the funniest films I've seen this year. You should go watch, for sure you'll enjoy it!

What do you mean, it wasn't a comedy?

Then why was I laughing so hard?


Sunday, November 8, 2009

Addictions: Book Sales

Please excuse me as I hyperventillate in anticipation.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Attention Deficit: Filmfests

September and October were a whirlwind of some of the best movies the world has to offer. With the German, European, Korean, Spanish and Italian film festivals set almost just one week apart from each other, it could only be described as a viewing frenzy for me and some friends.

Then October ended and there were no more news about any other movies to follow. I felt like an addict suffering from withdrawal symptoms.

Thankfully, I chanced upon a website announcing the Australian Film Festival held at the Greenbelt. The news was such a shining beacon of hope that I gleefully hoarded up info as to the movie dates. It seems to me that this event has been set without any fanfare that it didn't even register upon my radars until it's release. Apparently the Festival started last November 5 and will end at the 15th.

Unfortunately, the 2nd week of the Festival will be held, not at Greenbelt, but in Ayala Center Cebu, so this weekend would be my only opportunity to enjoy these movies.

So now, I'm off to the cinemas.

And wait for another bout of withdrawal symptoms after this festival is over, as this might be the absolute last for the year.

And no, the one held annually during December does not count in my books.

Great Flaws

People are remembered for only two things: their greatness; or their great weaknesses. Unfortunately, in this day and age, and highly critical as the world is right now, it is more likely that one would be immortalized because of one's flaws, rather than any acheivement one has made. Even in your moment of greatness, it may be that a flaw would be more pronounced, and possibly overpower your acheivements.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Attention Deficit: Mini Updates

It's crunchtime once again (what else is new) and I can't make my mind stop and focus on writing. I do have some posts in mind, and I'm aching to pen them, but nothing comes out the moment I face a blank sheet with pen in hand. To unburden me of my thoughts, I'm opting for this mini-post to tide me over until that time that I can produce something of significance.

Fe Comes Back

After its successful run in the Cinemalaya, Fe went to Chicago and then to New Delhi to compete in the international scene.

The Rapture of Fe now returns home for commercial screenings at Robinson's Galleria and Robinson's Place Ermita starting November 11.

You'd have to hurry, though, because Fe will disappear once more once the Vampires and Warewolves of New Moon attack.

For more info about the film, go to their webisite.


I went inside 7-Eleven to buy foostuffs when I saw this lollipop's new packaging.

Placed inside a flip-top box and with matching "warning note" on the label, the package reminds me of cigarette cases. I guess chupa chups are now marketing themselves as alternatives to smoking for those trying to quit the habit.

Whether the marketing ploy works or not, their "warning note" is hillarious! Sucking does not kill, indeed.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009


Astro Voice
I have formed the habit of using my earphones to listen to the radio while at work. I find that it soothes me, and minimizes the toxicity I feel. Also, it frees me of unnecessary distractions that would make me lose focus at my work: people tend not to ask questions when they see you have something covering your ears. It does leave me behind of the latest office mumbles and grumbles, but I tend not to delve into those anyways, so it isn’t quite a loss; merely my antisocial tendency rearing its snobbish head.

Last week, as I was listening to my lunch-hour duo run their show, something curious happened: a new listener called in time for one of their more famous contests. I didn’t give too much thought to that, except that the way the caller pronounced Makati was rather odd – it was familiar. The caller was not able to beat the best damn buzzer in fm radio, but he did give her a scare. For that – and probably for M’katy – the caller was awarded a consolation prize.

A few minutes later, I got an sms from EyviCat, inquiring if I were listening to the radio, and informing me that he won tickets to Astro Boy for almost beating Suzy.

Astro Bus
Unfortunately for EyviCat, his work schedule precludes him from being able to attend the premier screening. Fortunately for me, I was one of the first people EyviCat offered the tickets to. And so, mere minutes after 6 pm, I clocked off and set my pace to go to Mega Mall, braving the traffic along Pasong Tamo, and wishing for powers to disintegrate vehicular traffic to get to my destination faster.

I have learned, to my detriment, that taking the bus along Buendia to go to Edsa on a weekday rush hour is the surest way to get late to any appointment. More than the bottlenecks, the constant stops to wait for more passengers will eat your time more effectively than a Hoover sucks dirt. That is why I have learned to brave the MRT, sacrificing my need for personal space in exchange for speed. That is no laughing matter, considering that on its better days, the trains can get so tightly packed, it borders on achieving critical mass, thereby creating a black hole.

I got to the venue at around 7.15, making good time by being a few minutes earlier than the rush-hour horde. I whiled the time by walking around the mall for a better part of an hour while waiting for Gentle to arrive, knowing full well that when organizers tell you 7.30, it means that the show will start an hour hence.

Astro Boy
The movie was good and funny, though it deviated from the original story line to make for a more concise film. Thankfully, its essence was intact, and you can feel for Astro as he makes his way to find acceptance. Both boy and robot, but not belonging to either realm, Astro’s story is relatable in different levels. His yearning to belong and find his place in the world is shared by many people; much like my quest for rocket-powered red boots that would enable me to fly; it is universal in appeal.

Purists for the manga and the anime might have reason to complain about how the film was rendered, but I myself don’t mind. Though I grew up with the anime, I honestly don’t remember much about Astro’s earlier adventures. What I do remember is his unique hairstyle and his omnipresent boots, which is as much of a trademark of Astro’s as his butt machine gun.

The key to enjoying this movie, as with all other adaptations, is to forget the source material. Without something to compare to, movies like this could be experienced in its own separate light, and it frees you from feeling resentment and disappointment that the finished product is inferior to its source, because let’s face it, very few adaptations will ever surpass the awe and nostalgia that the original material brought us.

Astro Voyeur
Going out of the cinema, I suggested to Gentle that we head first to the nearest restroom to releive ourselves of the drink we downed while watching.

There is an unspoken rule when using public urinals wherein you should situate yourself one urinal apart from the next person. Seeing five empty urinals, I made a beeline for the middle urinal to do my thing. I was rather put off when a stranger moved to my left, considering that there is a perfectly usable unit further on either side, and a whole row farther inward of the restroom. Consider my shock when I saw this stranger, through my peripheral vision, start peeking over the barriers into my side of the urinal.

Having let go of control over my baldder, I had no choice but to suffer those invasive eyes until I was able to empty that well of amber liquid. To rid myself of mounting unease, I focused on myself and refused to acknowledge the stranger's existence. After I'm done, I turn to the line of sinks and see Gentle with impish glee in his eyes, having witnessed the stranger's blatant harassment; I roll my eyes at him. We exit the restroom and try to put as much distance between us and the voyeur.

Weirdness aside, it was a fun night for movies, and seeing Astro Boy once more was like seeing a long lost childhood friend. Memories become legend, and it was enjoyable stripping those myths to find out the truth hidden in the memory.

Someone commented before that everyting is cyclical, and seeing today's trends, I believe that the statement has more than just a spark a truth in it. With Transformers, G. I. Joe, Fame, and now Astro Boy, making it big, you'd think that we're all back in the 80s.

This is a good time to be young again.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009


"Patay na raw si Odie. Tumawag sa akin yung vet. :-(" So states the first message I read today.

Odie is our pet daschund whom Garfield bought four years ago. A few months after purchasing Odie, Garfiled moved out of the house, leaving him to our care. Such is the irony in life that a few months after Garfield moved back in, Odie then dies.

Of all the pets we've had over the years, I've been most aloof with Odie. Lacking the time and the motivation, I've never allowed myself to establish a good rapport with him. Having lost my favorite pet a few years back, I didn't want the emotional attachment to establish with this new dog. But Odie is such an endearing pet; always eager to please, always eager for company. He would always try to find an opportunity to lick your face if you're unaware, even if you don't want him to.

Odie is overwieght. For a dog his size, he weighs almost double than normal, thanks to my mom's knack for pampering pets too much. But when Odie developed an inability to finish a walk along the street and refused to go on any further, prompting anyone walking him around to just carry him back home, my mom relented and imposed a diet for Odie, involving only two meals during the day, instead of the three full meals he once enjoyed.

The last time I saw Odie over the weekend, he looked thin but healthy. I didn't realize that he was suffering from any sickness. His absence during the past few days didn't even register on me. I didn't know he was sick, until I recieved Garfield's message earlier.

Goodbye, Odie.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Shirking Responsibilities: Película Pelikula

An asteroid three times larger than the one that caused the extinction of dinosaurs is headed for Earth. The combined might of all world powers has amounted to scratch; not even enough to derail the asteroid from its crash course collision with the planet. You have three days before the end of the world, what would you do?

For one man, the answer is simple: Escape his 20-year incarceration and kill the man responsible for his capture, along with his progeny. What better revenge is there, after all, than to let your enemy meet his maker a few hours before everybody else does? And if you can give them a slow, torturous, hanging death, then so much the better.

For one mother, it is protecting her sons and her grandchildren from a killer's vengeance, while trying to keep the grandchildren ignorant of the impending armageddon. For her other son, staying alive long enough to die with everybody else seemed enough.

But when death comes barging in, even a man who's felt inferior and unwanted his entire life, a man who seemed to have never lived, can find the will to defend himself, and his brother's children from the all too real prospect of a violent death. When death comes knocking, how far would you go to protect something that is already lost?

3 Días (Before the Fall) and 20 other award-winning Spanish and Latin American films are featured in the 8th Spanish Film Festival at Greenbelt 3.

I've been able to see three films so far, and I'm hoping to see more. Of the three films I've seen, my favorite would have to be Los Cronocrímenes, about a man who becomes displaced in time, and the lenghts he would go in order to regain his life. The film is too good to blurb about, so I wouldn't even attempt a summary. Just watch it. Another screening is scheduled on Friday at 12mn, and I am planning to see it again.


I guess I'm back to blogging again. The past month became such a circus that it effectively wiped out my thought processes. As much as I love this medium, writing is at most, a fickle mistress. The urge and the inspiration comes and goes, and sometimes, it calls on you at the most inconvenient time. There are instances when it disappears for great lenghts of time, only to come back to give only elementary output. But there are times when it performs beyond anyone's expectations, and those are the moments, though rare, that makes me fall in love with it again.

Mediocre or spectacular, I hope this new advent in my writing urge would stay this time. Loss of writing ability sometimes feels like the loss of lucidity, and nobody wants that.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

On Talking

"We need to talk."

These has got to be one of the worst combination of words the english language has ever spawned. Nothing good comes out after these words have been uttered; nothing is ever resolved; nothing is ever repaired. As a matter of fact, "talking" is nothing but a series of monologues performed by two or more people in tandem. You don't need the other party or parties to hear you, or even understand you; you just need an audience.

Sometimes, the 'audience' is not even necessary; they distract the speaker's train of thought with their uncalled for comments and interjections, the nerve. Talking does not even convey what the speaker truly wants to express. Oddly enough, the words usually get in the way of expressing what is meant. Sadly, not everyone realizes this, so they just keep on talking to try to express what they really need to say, but all is in vain. Whatever truth they originally want to express is muddied up by their own words, and the words uttered by the other party (the victim, i suppose), until everything has woefully and inevitably worsened by this need to talk.

It's this need of people to feel connected that is the problem, I suppose. People feel the need to belong, but hardly anyone possesses the necessary tools to do just that. Sadly, they turn to words, but words are not enough; they never have been.

Originally posted on friendsterblogs September 2006.

I'm currently having difficulty gathering my thoughts lately, owing to stresses at work and other incidental events not for public scutiny. Hopefully, I will have full mastery of my vocabulary within a week or so. I'm off to Shang for the Cine Europa. I wish it would free me from this mental constipation I'm currently suffering.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

The Search for Narnia

The main allure of reading is its ability to transport the reader to different worlds. The better the author's words flow, the deeper the reader delves into dimensions at once foreign and familiar. That is why when my stress buttons are pressed, coming home to a well-written fantasy is such a boon. Such is the reason for the alarming proliferation of fiction in my room. I need more shelving.

I have a tendency to impose my tastes on others, and anyone clueless enough to ask my opinion on books would no doubt be bombarded by Anne Rice, Stephen King, Neil Gaiman and Jostein Gaarder. I lend my books (if you ask me nicely) on the condition that its conditions be preserved. I tend to become obsessive when it comes to my tomes.

My problem is, I tend to forget who borrowed which.

Among the titles missing in my collection is The Chronicles of Narnia. I found my copy at Booksale years ago, before the first movie was shown, for 150 bucks. Some months afterward, I found that same copy selling at Powerbooks for upwards of 500. I've lost track of who borrowed this book from me. I was secretly hoping that it only got lodged among the things I didn't bother unpacking from my moving from one room to the next (I'm on my third room this year), but alas, the book wasn't anywhere.

Some friends advised me to create a card catalog for my books, as they have already grown too big to commit to just memory. What they didn't comment on was my abyssmal memory to start with. Seeing as Narnia is not the only title I'm missing, I just might consider that advise, only, I wouldn't go about calling my collection a library, at least, not yet.

I'm gonna need all my OC powers for this endeavor.


Magic: The Gathering

I was a fan of this card game way back in high school, although I had more fun collecting the cards rather than playing them. It was such a geeky game, much like Dungeons & Dragons, and I love it.

Back then, one of the prized cards to find was the Sengir Vampire, which is a "cheap" creature to cast considering its abilites. By cheap, it means that the manna used casting the creature was well worth its cost. Imagine my surprise when I saw this online:

You've got to love Gloria, she really stives for universal appeal. I mean, Filipinos from all walks of life hate her now, from geeks to jocks, and all the cliques in between.

Monday, August 31, 2009


Gamitin ko man sa pangaraw-araw na pakikipag-usap, hindi pa rin ako sanay sa pagtipa ng mga titik sa Tagalog. Mas sanay pa rin ako sa mga salitang sinulat sa wikang ingles. Marahil ay dahil ito sa pagkakasanay sa pagbabasa ng mga aklat sa wikang hiram. Nasanay na rin akong magisip at kausapin ang sarili sa ingles kaya't nagiging mabagal ang pagpapahayag ng sinaloobin sa sariling wika.

Damang dama sa mga lumalabas na titik ang bigat ng pagiisip gamit ang wikang ito. Hindi ko makayang paliparin ng matayog at malaya ang aking diwa at napipilitan akong tumigil panandali upang hanapin ang halaw sa tagalog ng ilang salitang natural kong ginagamit sa ingles.

Masasabi ko pa ring isa sa mga pinakamakulay na wika ang ating gamit. Gamit ang ilang kataga ay kaya nitong magpahayag ng iba't ibang kahulugan at damdamin. Isa pa, saan ka makakikita ng iba pang wika na may kakayanang bumuo ng matinong paguusap gamit lamang ang iisang kataga?

Sa isang elevator, pagbukas ng pintuan:
Man1, pasakay: bababa ba?

Man2, nakasakay: bababa.

Tiyak, walang ibang wikang may kakayanang gumawa nito.

Gayun pa man, hindi pa rin ako sanay gamitin ang wikang ito sa pagtipa ng aking saloobin. Araw-araw ko man itong gamit sa pananalita ay mas kumportable pa rin talagang gamitin ang ingles sa malayang pagpapahayag. Siyang dahilan ng aking pagbabalik sa wikang nakasanayan matapos ang dalawang linggong eksperimento sa wikang kinagisnan.

Maligayang buwan ng ating wika. Nawa'y maging makabuluhan ang paggamit natin nito.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

24 Hours

Dahil lamang sa biruang opisina ay naatasan akong pumunta sa Cebu para sa buwanang pagbibilang. Hindi ko ito hinahangad, ngunit dahil narito na rin ay tinanggap ko na. Madalas ko na ring sinasabi sa aking sarili na tatanggapin ko ano man ang ibigay sa akin dito sa opisinang ito; kung ayaw ko naman ay madali lamang tumanggi. Alam ko rin na mas mahirap papayagin ang karamihan sa mga kasamahan ko na pumunta roon.

Hindi pa ako nakararating ng Cebu. Ang biyaheng ito ang magiging unang beses na mapapadpad ako sa yaong lugar. Kung isasama ang pagpunta ko noon sa Boracay kasama ang ilang kaibigan, ang paglipad na ito ang pangalawa pa lamang na pagkakataon na mapapadpad ako ng Visayas. Masayang isipin ang pagkakaroon ng bagong karanasang katulad nito.

Trabaho pa rin ang ipinunta ko roon. Aalis ako ng Manila sa katapusan ng 12 ng tanghali, at aalis ng Cebu ng 12 ng tanghali ng susunod na araw. Kasama ang paglipad at pagtulog, nasa Cebu lamang ako ng hindi hihigit sa 24 oras. Ito ang paunang mga oras na ibinigay sa aking ng aming manager at kahit maaari ko itong baguhin ay hindi ko na rin ginawa. Kahit marami na ang nagsabi na dapat ay pinabago ko ang mga oras para magkaroon ako ng oras sa paglilibot, para sa akin ay akma na rin na wala akong masyadong maraming oras na gugugulin doon. Nangangamba ako na kahit damihan ko ang oras ko roon ay wala rin akong malibot, bagkus ay magtrabaho lamang ng mas mahabang panahon.

Sa susunod na lamang ako maglilibot sa Cebu, kapag hindi na trabaho ang sadya ko roon.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


Makalipas ang tatlong taong pagsasarili, muling nagbalik sa aming tahanan ang aking nakatatandang kapatid. Marapat nang hindi ungkatin ang siyang dahilan ng kaniyang paglisan sapagkat ito'y akmang ibaon na lamang sa limot.

Pinaghandaan ng aming ina ang napipintong pagbabalik na ito: ipinagawa niya ang ilang silid sa aming bahay, kasama ang aking lumang silid. Sa pagbabalik ng aking kapatid, kaakibat nito ang aking pagbalik sa lumang silid na ito.

Hindi ko ipagkakaila, marami akong gamit. Mapalad ako at may kakayanan akong bumili ng ilang luho, ngunit ang mga luhong ito ang siyang nagpapahirap sa akin sa aking paglisan sa silid na akin na ring nakasanayan. Salamat na lamang at nakakuha ang aming ina ng ilang tauhan upang tumulong sa aming paglilipat, kasama na rin ang paglilinis at pagbubuhat ng ilang kagamitan.

Nakapapagod ang paglilipat, lalong lalo na ang pag-imis ng mga gamit. Maselan ako sa aking gamit at sa ayos nito. Hindi ko ipagkakatiwala sa ibang tao ang pag-aayos nito, siyang dahilan ng aking matagal na pagkawala sa sapot ng blogosperyo (hindi lamang ito ang sanhi ng aking pagkawala, ngunit sa ibang talata na lamang ang pagkukuwento tungkol dito). Hanggang ngayon ay hindi pa rin tapos ang aking pag-aayos sa aking silid. Marami pa rin akong mga gamit na hindi nahahanapan ng akmang lugar sa aking bagong silid.

Masukal man ang aking lugar sa ngayon, ang mahalaga ay tapos na rin ang paglilipat, at mas lalong mahalaga ay nagbalik na ang aking kuya. Hindi na alintana na hiniram niya ang aking laptop kaya't hindi ako makapag-libot sa sapot ng ilang araw.

Madalas man kaming hindi magkasundo, at noon ay parating nag-aaway, ako ay masaya pa rin sa kaniyang pagbabalik.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

New Information on President Arroyo's Assets

MANILA, Philippines - President Arroyo is facing raps from the public sector clamoring for a probe on her Statements of Assets, Liabilities and Net Worth (SALN) amid speculations that there are irregularities in its preparation.

A report from the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism (PCIJ) said that based on her SALNs, Mrs. Arroyo’s declared net worth more than doubled from P66.8 million in 2001 to P143.54 million in 2008, or bigger than the combined growth in declared wealth of her three immediate predecessors, including former President Joseph Estrada, who was convicted for plunder.

New information, however, tells a different story. "She's bankrupt," reveals a source close to the President, who agreed to be interviewed on conditions of anonymity. "In order not to lose face in the global arena, the President has been funding various government projects using her personal assets. It was all going well until a few months ago, when the peso fell depite [President] Gloria's efforts" the source said.

The President has depleted her personal assets so much, she wasn't even able to properly celebrate her 41st wedding anniversary with First Gentleman Mike Arroyo. The First Couple had to make do with a simple dinner with close friends at restaurant in New York.

Aside from funding various government projects, the President has also commissioned profit-seeking ventures to boost the economy, "at her personal expense," reiterated the source. When asked further about these profit-seeking ventures, the source revealed that the President has ventured into treasure-hunting. "It came to the President as a blow" the source reveals further, "after she failed to find treasure in the Sierra Madre property. She was so disappointed, she immediately sold the land. Finding the Yamashita treasure would have greatly boosted our economy, she [President Arroyo] told me."

As of press time, President Arroyo was out of town for comment, apparently on another treasure hunting expedition on Ilocos Norte.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Playing Hookie

I was everywhere last weekend. Everywhere but the office, that is.

When wanderlust kicks in, you really have no choice but to comply.


Mandarin Oriental, Gateway

Belini's, Marikina Shoe Exchange

Future Bar; Marikina Shoe Exchange

The wanderlust didn't end that night, though. It continued on til Sunday:

John & Yoko's, Greenbelt 5

Gelatone, Greenbelt 3

All in all, it was a filling and fulfilling weekend. No doubt, I went over-budget, but a $20,000 dinner, it ain't.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

One of Those Days

I should be working right now. Yesterday, I have already made my plans to render overtime. I have even gone to the point of filing my overtime form, to be signed and authorized at a later date. I even arranged my desk in preparation for continuing work today, or rather, I didn't arrange it last night, so I can go on working today like I merely had a break.

But there comes a time when not even the fear of an impending deadline would rattle me into action.

This is one of those days. I would much rather lie down with a good book or two, while surfing the net and watching anime. (Yes, I multi-task my leisures.)

Right now, I feel like watching a movie, and pigging out, maybe.

But work is far from my agenda.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Love Songs

Contrary to popular notion, the best love songs are not made by crooners. They may have the melody, the voice, and the words to make your heart swoon and make you bawl buckets, but somehow, it feels contrived. The words are easily relatable, but still, there's something missing. And if you put in the fact that they make love songs for a living, it somehow diminishes their song's authenticity. Overall, it creates an impact of cheesiness, rather than the intended romantic effect.

"Cause I don't know where you are
and I don't know what to do
are you somewhere feeling lonely
or is there someone loving you..."

It just doesn't bode well on me. Even with the augmented impact of the melody, it still would not convince me of the longing and helplessness the singer wishes to evoke. Though some people would swear unflailing heart-felt audulation over pieces like these, all I can say is "Hello?!"

"Hey girl, I don't want you to cry no more inside
All the money in the world could ever add up to
all the love I have inside
I love you..."

It is a common flaw in love songs to affect the gut area: that, and nothing else. It appeals to emotion, and oftentimes with nary a thought or regard to other vital functions. What puts me off with this is it tends to demote the emotion concerned into nothing but primal instinct: nothing more or less than fear or hunger. If poets and artists regard love as the greatest and most dangerous emotion known to man, how dare the crooners allude to it with dumb disregard?

More than the words themselves, and their pull on the heartstrings, is it asking too much to expect intelligent lyrics on my love songs? Love is known to make fools of men, but it doesn't mean that songs about love should cater to mere troll-like intelligence. Any song that purports to be a love song with indescriminate spatterings of the word "love" is immediately suspect in my books. It suggests a lack of originality and hints at low vacubulary. The English language boasts of a hundred and one ways to describe food, surely, there are as much words that evoke something as wondrous and multi-faceted as one's affection towards another.

"To see you when I wake up
Is a gift I didn't think could be real
To know that you feel the same as I do
Is a three-fold utopian dream..."

The best love songs, for me, are not done by crooners nor boy bands. Surprisingly, the best songs that evoke love come from sources that make you want to headbang while listening. They may not have the vocal range to describe the physical manifestations of love: its high notes of ecstacy; its lingereing low notes of longing; the rolling hums of contentment; and its siren-wails and whistles of despair; but what they lack at vocal acrobatics, they more than make up for with sincerity. Love, as relayed to by these precious few, is unapologetic, complex, and most importantly, intelligent.

"...Who would have thought it would end up like this?
Where everything we talked about is gone
And the only chance we have of moving on
Is try to take it back before it all went wrong"

For Love, and by relation, love songs, to affect the heart is common: it is expected. The majesty of it all is when love affects not only the heart, but also the mind; when one is able to feel love in spite of one's self. Therein lies the magic; it is there where one will experience the true power of love.


For EyviCat and Gentle, who celebrates their fourth anniversary this month, for making me believe that intelligent love songs can exist.

Thursday, July 30, 2009


Midyear reporting has finally concluded, with our consolidated reports presented to the owners. After weeks of pain-staking knit-picking over all possible details of our work, finally, the report is done.

It is because of this numerical balancing act that I have been going home late for the past weeks. I never imagined that I would get to stay in the office til past 3 am. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever stop to consider such possibility. Which is quite odd, considering that my profession is known for unrivaled hours of officework. I guess I just didn't want to entertain the possibility. I can get lazy that way.

Having had very little sleep, I seem jovial enough today, which is quite weird. It's rather out of sync with my personality. It is funny sometimes, that during your time of least sleep, is the time that you are unusually awake and alert. That is exactly my case right now; wide awake and perpetually hungry, but otherwise, I feel fine. Although, I'm suspecting that my current uplifted mood has something to do with Superior's being out of the office, and with other officemates being out as well. I don't like to really dwell on the matter, but the presence of some people clearly put pressure on me.

It does put a strain on a person, the perpetual overtime. And it gets more stressful when, after all the effort and time you exerted, everything goes back to you because the format isn't right. But I don't want to dwell on specifics. The reports are done, and I want it over with. Move on to the next slew of hurdles to tackle.

Up next: Monthend reporting.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Music Mash-ups

Ever wonder how Rick Astley would sound as a rocker?

I didn't.

But someone else had, and made this mash-up of Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give You Up and Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit.

I first heard this on a local radio station, and it just made me laugh out loud. The mix was seamless, and the video was such a gas.


Monday, July 20, 2009

Addictions: Movies & Cinemalaya

Cinemalaya Cinco is underway. Due to the very timely rains we've experienced this weekend, I wasn't able to watch as much as I wanted. A whole weekend has passed, and I was only able to view only one movie. I'm planning to get to see more.

In competition this year are ten full-length films and ten shorts exhibited at six major venues of the CCP Complex. The finalists in the full length feature category are:

24K by Ana Agabin,
Ang Nerseri (The Nursery) by Vic Acedillo, Jr.;
Ang Panggagahasa kay Fe by Alvin B. Yapan;
Astig (Mga Batang Kalye) by GB Sampedro;
Colorum by Jon Steffan Ballesteros;
Dinig Sana Kita by Mike E. Sandejas;
Engkwentro by Pepe Diokno;
Last Supper No. 3 by Veronica Velasco and Jinky Laurel;
Mangatyanan (The Blood Trail) by Jerrold Tarog and
Sanglaan by Milo Sogueco.

Of these ten, I was lucky enough to get a ticket to Engkwentro, probably because the ticket seller though I was part of a group of students she sold tickets to outside of the queue. Haha! Unfortunately, I no longer have a student ID to show anyone, which is too bad, for I might have enjoyed a 50% discount had I been a student (wishful thinking, I know, but there it is).

Engkwentro is about Richard (played by Felix Roco) and his woes with his family, his gang and its rivals, and the vigilante group that wants him dead. Tiring of his life as a petty criminal, he plans to elope with his girlfriend and try their luck in Manila. The movie was good, although the camerawork was a bit dizzying, at times whitewashed with solar glare, and at other times completely veiled in shadows, but I guess that was intentional. It sets the mood, somehow, and communicates the idea of the audience as voyeurs to the protagonists' life.

Expect to be shocked with this film's conclusion, which is, I guess, the director's intention.

Another film I'm itching to watch in this year's Cinemalaya is Alvin Yapan's "Ang Panggagahasa kay Fe" (The Rapture of Fe), about an OFW who was forced to return home due to the financial crisis to be met with an abusive husband and the attentions of other men, paranormal or otherwise.

It was unfortunate that the film had already sold out when I was about to purchase a ticket for the 9pm showing. Thankfully, there is still another weekend viewing for the film set for next Saturday. I have already contracted Eyvicat to accompany me with this one, and possibly to another film or two, if schedules (and funds) permit. Come to think of it, maybe a day pass for that day might be a good idea. :-)

For ticket information, please call the CCP Marketing Department at 551-7930 or 832-1125 local 1800 to 1808 and the CCP Box Office at 832-3704 or 832-1125 local 1409.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Depression's Downpour

I just hate the rain
Especially in the morning.

Monday, July 13, 2009

The Doom of Omega

For all my intelligence, I am the dumbest person in the world.

I've tried so hard to forget how I feel, I've even vowed to myself to once and for all bury that emotion, but for all my cranial bindings, this stupid heart just won’t give up. It just refuses to give up on you; on us. But unfortunately, there is no "us". There never have been. Even during the time when there was a semblance of that, it was never true, never realized, never admitted.

I was the third party, and I was content at that. At least then, I felt some affection coming from you. It felt that, though you love V-- more, you also love me; and that was enough. You are my secret; and I was yours. And we were blissfully unmindful of the world around us. Let them float in their speculations, but wade in murky ignorance. They will never have the confirmation that they desire.

That was then.

This year, I've felt you drift away. Gradually at first, but then, over time, the gap seemed insurmountable. I did try to patch it, but to no avail.

I waited for you to return. Still I wait.

Last night, I was given license to visit you. A very rare treat, as you always seem to have reasons to quell my advances. Finally, I get to see you. I was hopeful.

I shouldn't’ve hoped; I realize now. The first few minutes of that meet was enough to tell me how you felt. You've dashed my hopes, and set my place. Without saying anything to me, without even addressing me, you've told me much. We are no longer paramours, and there is little doubt that what happened before will never happen again.

Lightning never strikes the same place twice, I should have known. And we were just like that, lightning -- radiant, random, fiery; but ultimately short-lived and unrepeatable.

I know all these. I’ve been telling it to myself all these past months, berating myself for not resigning to that fact and for keeping that flame alive after you’ve left. But I am stupid and stubborn and sincerely in love with you; of the idea of you; the feel of you; the warmth of you; and I don’t think I can stop that. The tiger will not change its stripes just because it is hindered, and my heart won’t either.

Thus I am doomed.


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