Tuesday, October 31, 2006

X-Men Room

Driving through Caloocan City traffic yesterday, I saw this hilarious advert for a local motel:

Try the New X-Men Room...
Unleash the Power Within!

This goes with a picture of a bed with a circular metallic headboard inscribed with a huge X.
No wonder their logo is shown shushing people up. They're probably rolling on the floor and laughing and screaming their lungs out. Ooooh, I can just see manong driver bringing in his wife, or the cheapskate executive with his bombshell secretary... vrooom, vrooom. Unleash the power within!

Gawds sake.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way...
Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

I was just reminded by a friend that this quote exists. That sometime in the past, a man was inspired enough to dwell on the irony of life, its inconsistencies, its challenges, and thus, its beauty. How apt it is for who we are and where we are right now.

My friends and I are stuck in this age where we feel like we're being pulled in two directions --- the call of our childhood with its comfortable memories and an unknown future which could be bright, tragic or both. It's easy to feel everything, easier to feel nothing, hoping to know everything, hoping to know nothing upon realizing that sometimes ignorance is bliss...

Yet we are surrounded by Life and all its colors and we are called to participate, both compelled and attracted to the vibrancy that it promises to deliver.

So we are both living and dying slowly, gaining and losing something daily, loving and hating in equal measure, hurting and healing and hurting again, learning and unlearning, choosing and deciding and then changing our minds... Whew.

And in all the jingling and jangling, the whirling and spiraling -- we taste, we feel, we hear, we speak, we burn ever brighter and dance and sing to the maddening feverish salsa of life.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Ready, Set.... Write!

NanoWriMo's just a couple of days away and I still don't have a freakin' idea what to write about this year. Which reminds me of something --- a lot of my friends keep asking me why I gave up writing love stories.

I don't really have a concrete answer for that. I think I may have found it sappy somewhere along the way. Once, I also thought that I do not have the needed gravitas to pull of a real good romantic story. What do I know about it, right? Another popular theory is that I haven't just given up on love stories, I gave up on love altogether. :)

Dunno. Could be. Could be not. I have my doubts now, marred as my, aherm, innocence is. (or is that naivete?) But how much have I truly lost? If I just can convince myself I have gained far much more maybe I really haven't lost anything at all. Argh. What the effing heck. Di ko ma-take ang drama. Sorry, I just have stopped liking it. That's it. That's the end all and be all of it.

So, I should really get along with that We Who have Fallen Asleep anthology. At least, that has a potential of not being overly sappy.

NanoWriMo, here I come.

For Amusement's Sake

Book in Hand: Unlocking the Air by Ursula le Guin
Song in Mind: Chasing Cars


Just so I can say I still keep my friendster updated, I loaded a couple of pics and answered a few messages. It sucks though how my last testimonial was written, like, in 2004 pa. Aherm, aherm, pakisulatan naman o, nakakaawa na kasi ako. :)

Anyway, I just heard that Friendster refused Google's offer to buy the outfit for 30 million dollars back in 2003. I understand that maybe he didn't want to give in to the "Man." Oh, but man.... what mucho dinero you've passed up. You could've doubled your worth. Shux, I hope you don't regret this, Abrams. But if the business commentaries in the NY Times are any good, you already do.


Bakit ba inaaway nyo si Mo? Pakialam nyo ba kung sa may sarili siyang opinyon eh. Sure, I admit, he's fresh, caustic, tactless, impatient with dumb people, and well, basically rude. But tell me he's wrong; tell me that people still respect Lolit Solis after her involvement with that awarding scam years and years ago? Tell it straight to my face and I'd know you're kissing her ass because you probably hope to be discovered by her and become an artista. Gamitan naman sa showbiz diba? That's the only reason why Solis survived, because people can still use her to become famous.

Also, I'm sure hindi lahat ng showbiz talk show hosts are bobo. I mean, Boy Abunda, surely, has a good head on his shoulders although he had to hide it well so as not to overwhelm Cristy Fermin and touch-my-tummy-it's-lucky-deal or-no-deal Kris Aquino. But showbiz talkies have a way of encouraging mindless gossiping amongst the masses, and giving focus to the things that are not important. Networks claim that it's merely for amusement's sake, but man! That kind of amusement dissolves useful brain cells, leaving none for actual day-to-day functioning. No wonder so many people are becoming pains in the arse.

Now, Mo does not come across as a nice guy. But getting back at him by calling the radio station he works for as not so popular, or saying he's trying to hog the limelight after whatever failed relationships --- that is so freakin' weak, man. It's so juvenile.

If I could tell Mo one thing though (which I'm sure I'd never be able to do since I'm his complete anti-thesis), I'd start by telling him he's a role model to a lot of young kids and he'd be well-served if he tones down a bit. But heck, I'll just get flack, I'm sure and in the end, he'd still do what he does best --- amuse us all with his acerbic wit.


Good jupiter in pluto, it's 1:00 a.m.! Somebody hit my head with a club so I could sleep! Got work to do tomorrow and I'm sure it'll not be amusing at all. Tell me how 12 geriatric women engaged in a verbal merry-go-round inside a cramped room could ever be fun and I'd treat you to lunch for a month. No bluff.

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Automatic Random Musings (ARM)

The brain, if taken out of context from the person, is a thing. Not living without a heart. So in effect, it's a machine. Once plugged into a life source, it makes everything operate and sometimes can be mistaken as a life source itself. But it isn't.

Sometimes, this tiny but amazing machine backfires. Yes, there are mental illnesses. But to a lesser degree, there is this uncontrolled random musings better known as Memory and Thinking. No, nothing has to be logical. Things just pops up once in a while and if you are armed with a word processor you have every means to type it down.


I am frustrated at my new job. I had the idea that it was this wonderful change of pacing and a step nearer to my dream of being a writer. So far, my output had been a couple of media advisories and meeting with gnarly old ladies about an event that propagates the tradition of cutting down trees for decorations.

I keep saying myself, to write I must need tools. I don't even have my own computer there. I just squat on my other workmate's computers. Thing is, I can't give my all when I'm on my toes trying to see if they'd be needing their computers already. I can't write without a computer. I have lost the patience to jot on paper. It's frustrating.

Now, I haven't done anything significant yet. Given that I am barely a month old in the position, okay, I shouldn't expect much. But I don't feel productive. The only way I can feel useful is if I churn out the articles sometime soon. But without a computer, how am I supposed to do this? Work at home? That'll screw up my attendance. Steal a laptop? Use computers in LRO, when they are also experiencing a shortage (and I admit, hirap kaya umakyat-panaog)?

I know I must deal and force myself to write on paper. But I am critically disadvantaged everytime I try. I think too fast and I write too slow. My hands hurt easily.

I am screwed.


The other night, my guy best friend texted me asking if I was awake. I wasn't. I read his text the next day and I felt guilty. He rarely texts that late. Our history shows, I'm more likely to do that. When I txt him, he responds; now that he txted me, I was snoring in lala-land. Call it intuition, but I knew he didn't contact me to ask my favorite ice cream flavor.

It turned out he was angry and frustrated about something. I think it's guy-troubles, because he ended his text with: Love is hard.

Well, what do you know. Welcome to the planet, darling.

I'm a bit unsure how to help him. Half a decade ago, he was the one who taught me love was hard --- when I was still holding a candle for him. Now that the tinderbox has been annihilated, I'm free. But then, I don't know if I can start giving him advice on boys since I obviously have no talent for getting one. Or distinguishing one, for that matter. Not even if I scry for them, I think.

Or more importantly, I have no understanding of love since it also still eludes me. Speaking of which, I am...


I'm tired of waiting. But I can't stop hoping. I'm tired of being alone (aka John Mayer), but I'd rather not do anything about it. When it comes to finding love, I'd really rather let it find me. The times when I tried to forge my way to and through a relationship, results had been disastrous. Or tepid. Sometimes both.

Last week, a friend asked me why I'm so scared to let a boy know I like him. My only answer was, Because.

In my head though, I completed the sentence. Because he'd run away screaming bloody murder, that's why. Because he'd have to be insane to like me back. Because he'd be disgusted. Or worse, he'd be patronizing and start pitying me all the way from here to the moon.

I've got a lot of baggage for someone who'd never been in a relationship ever. I'm sure people left and right would be telling me to lose the baggage then. Yes, sure, just chuck it out after years and years of being molded by it. Easy peasy right?

Not in this lifetime. Maybe lessen it, but to completely abandon it is implausible. I'm just being honest. (And stubborn as well)

I suppose all I ask for is (as they say it in that NY musical) someone whose baggage goes with mine. Doesn't have to be Louis freakin Vuittons. Me, I've always been the Gap kinda luggage. A matching set isn't really too much to ask, is it?

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Luck Ducky

I am a lucky, lucky girl.

The Press Conference for the Festival of Trees was held today and no major mishaps occured. To think it was my very first (!) event in my new job, it actually went pretty okay. Of course there were things we forgot: like pipe-in music while the guests are milling around, to double and triple check the menu to make sure there would be at least softdrinks available to guests(!!), and stuff similar to these. But all in all, it wasn't bad.

I say I'm lucky because I had extreme help from all corners of our little universe. Press invites were handled by a PR firm who worked with us for free and 24 media people came (!!!). It seems this is something good becuase we usually get around 2 or 3 in our other events. The Makati Garden Club ladies did a lot of fiddling and fixing so there was real shared responsibility between them and the foundation. I don't know how it would've went if it was just left up to me. I woud've gone insane.

Hope the FOT kicks off. Heck, if we're gonna be selling plates for P 10,000 per set, this better kick off. If not, I should consider my arse kicked out instead. :)

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Tantric, Manic, Panic

Floundering about what to talk about today. I just couldn’t allow another day to pass by without my fingers doing a bit of typing. Writers write, don’t they say? And one must write everyday to get the juices flowing.

What they don’t say is how there are days that you just couldn’t manage to dot an i. Not that I don’t feel inspired. I may have a couple of good ideas in my head, and now that I’m pining over love still unrequited, this may be the opportune time for me to mold it into words that sting.

But when I stare into the monitor, I just couldn’t muster enough energy.

I was mulling over this the other day and I told myself that instead of writing, I’ll just go and make some beaded jewelries. Then I said, No, I’ll just do a bit of water color art. Better yet, I should just practice my lessons in Spanish and conjugate some verbs. Although, I really ought to go and build myself a new book case for my overflowing books.

I ended up cataloguing my books for disposal instead.

Argh! Where’s my brain? I’m sure it’s around wosshere but I can’t find it. I can’t find my passion either. What do I pursue ba talaga?

If choosing wears me out already, how would I ever get to actual doing? I’m better off muttering to myself ala-Gollum. At least if I have multiple personalities, I’ll have an excuse for wanting so many things done.

Maybe I can also grow six heads to accommodate my mania.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Stop Wishing. Let's Begin.


I wish I spoke.

Here was this really cute guy who reminds me of someone I recently met. It could've been simple to just ask if he's related to the person I know. Who knows where the conversation may have led?

Why didn't I just ask? Darn insecurities keep me at bay. He was really cute. He seemed interesting. Good English diction, witty and all. Dar it, darn it, darn it.

I wish I spoke. Why didn't I? Why didn't? Why didn't I?

Idiot savant extraordinaire. That I am.


Why can't I stop thinking of that boy?


Especially if the guy broke up with you. I feel so much for my friend who had to cancel a planned wedding. The guy just called it quits with no reasonable explanation at all. Now all of us in the high school barkada are single.

The curse of the High School Virgin holds true.


I drank two large glasses of iced coffee today. Maybe that's why my heart's beating so fast and my hands are shaking as I type. Nope. There'd be no sleep in sight yet.

I should start chasing cars in my head.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

They Came Tumbling Down

With Friday the 13the just around the corner, I know of 2 people who wouldn’t be feeling invincible.

Just witnessed an actual accident on my way to work this morning. This speeding bus bumped a motorcycle with 2 passengers. To make it worse, the bus did not stop running until his rear wheels went over the motorcycle. I think the man on the motorcycle would be having broken bones in his right foot. Meanwhile, the woman (his wife, I assume) behind him banged her head hard on the pavement. Good thing they were both wearing helmets.

I do believe I screamed and covered my eyes. I didn’t know I could shriek like that. The bus driver ran away. As in, he scampered off the bus and sped away on foot to God knows where. The passengers went down and just stared. Good thing the guy driving the car in front of us went down and started directing people how to act. I wish I went down to help as well.

Why didn’t I ?

Wednesday, October 11, 2006


How’s this for a freak accident?

The Manila Skyway is the favorite fly-over shortcut of most of the upper-crust-living people from Manila to southern Metro Manila. Yesterday, amidst the heavy rains, a Fortuner was speeding through the skyway, braked hard and spun 360 degrees. It hit an Isuzu Trooper that swerved so extremely that it flew of the fly-over and landed on its back ---- atop a passenger jeepney.

The driver of the Trooper was alive. I didn’t catch the news about the driver of the Fortuner, but I assume he/she’s alive. The passengers of the jeepney weren’t so lucky. A few of them were severely injured, but most of them were dead.

I wonder how it felt for the Trooper driver to see himself flying off the skyway? How did it look like going down? Worse, I wonder about the surprise the passengers felt when the vehicle landed on them. Was there even time to feel surprised? Did they even manage to have last loving thoughts about their family, their work, the things they love?

Weird, kamikaze world.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Instant Jollibee

When toddlers start pinching you while riding the FX and when they appear hurtling towards you from out of nowhere only to use you as a human trampoline, you just have to ask why.

I know I love kids. They seem to like me too. Have no idea if that's enough to make them congregate around me though. It's a pleasure to spend a whole day playing with them; I swear that nothing beats the sparkle in their eyes when they're having a really good time. But I just have to ask : What do they see?

A walking and talking giant stuffed toy? Jollibee? Hetty Spaghetti?

In church, even babies would inadvertently focus their eyes on me. Then they'd start making those cute little eye batting movements and start extending their little chubby hands and I'm a goner.

I would've thought my being huge is a detrimental factor to dealing with kids --- i read that somewhere. Adults seem to be too tall and this intimidates them too much. Well, I'm larger than most adults (lengthwise, widthwise and edgewise) but kids swarm to me like bees to a honey pot. I guess my pillow-like arms are just to darn irresistable for kids four years old and below.

Wala lang. Just wondering aloud.

Friday, October 06, 2006

My Heritage

Site of the Day Alert!

I found the MyHeritage website through another blog. And it proved to be really fun. You register for free and you could upload a photo for yourself. They have face recognition technology and meta-data (whatever) which allows them to sift through countless photos of celebrities around the world and compare your face with. So far, this is who they say I look like:

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

Try it out... :)

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Speed Dating

Book in Hand: To Weave a Web of Magic

A friend (let's call her N) came up to me the other day and said she's now into speed dating. No consequence then that she believes attraction is instantaneous-- its either you do or you don't. She believes its a glimmer of pure shine which you catch a sight of for just a single second then it's up to you to grab it or to let it fade away.

Huh. Wow. Love just like instant noodles --- Lucky Me!

Walk me through it, I said. How's it done?

With all the colors of the rainbow in her eyes, she gave me the lowdown. In her Minnie Mouse voice she said:

N: First, you find a speed dating venue. A lot of hip cool new places do this. Often, it'll be connected to a bar you frequent or a radio station promoting new stuff

O: Like I visit bars (she did not see me cringe -- she barely heard me).

N: Then you register, get numbers or code names, all girls go sit and the men do the round-about (or vice-versa). I like it when the girls just sit. Then you speak and you charm and you wait for the glimmer.

O: I snort.

N: You have one to five minutes (it varies) with each guy. After the whole carousel thing is over (ergh... what a description), you hook up with the person you felt most connected with.

O: If this is gonna be the new thing these days, then I'm a dinosaur.

N: Do you wanna try it?

O: Saints, preserve me!

N: It's not bad!

O: Are you going to the next speed dating thingie?

N: Yes, you'd never know.

O: What happened to the guy you met the last time?

N: We didn't really hit it off after all. But I'm still hopeful. Hey, if you're interested, text me, I'll get you in.

O: (mumble, mumble)

N: What??

O: I said cookies crumble. And I am not despite what I ate.

N: looks at me as if I've just landed from Pluto --- which isn't a planet anymore, actually.

Look, N, your good intentions haven't been overlooked. But you see, when it comes to finding love, I believe it's each to her/his own. Speed dating ain't my kind of cookie. I agree with you that most people like me instantaneously, as you've said, it might be because I look kind and happy -- adorable and huggable to boot. But see, so does Winnie the Pooh. And no one in his right mind would want to date Winnie the Pooh. No one even knows for sure if Winnie is a boy or a girl or both -- with what his infatuation with Christopher Robin making him/her/it inscrutinable. I don't have gender issues, but I'm not easily espied as actual girlfriend material.

I cannot make a boy fall in love with me in sixty seconds flat. I'm the kind who grows on people. My illusion is that -- someday, half of the men I've met would fall down flat on their face in the knee-weakening realization that they were actually fond of me that way. But by then, I'm married, living in Ireland or the mountains, and fawning over my little David standing beside the man who didn't take a quarter of a century to realize I'm prime stuff. Someone I must absolutely respect and admire and love.

Good luck, N. May you find your glimmering. And I --- would wait until the next comet comes which would instantaneously wipe me and my species off the face of planet Earth.



Not quite finished yet.

After Speed Dating, N and I began to talk about Drinking. Not water, mind you. Wine, beer, all those alcoholic stuff.

When I told her I haven't come across speed dating because I haven't been exactly making rounds of the bars in Metro Manila, her eyes completely bugged out.

N: Well, where do you and your drinking buddies go?

O: Which drinking buddies?

N: Anyone you go have "inuman sessions" with. (She may actually believe I am dumb enough not to know -- not for a moment realizing that I may be being sarcastic) ((or, she may not have "sarcastic" in her vocabulary, I now realize).

O: I don't drink alcohol, eh.

N: OMG (expletive), are you a teetotaler? (ah, but she knows this! her range of motion reveals itself)

O: Would that be so bad?

N: That is like, so stuck up, you know. Only control freaks don't drink.

O: What you've just said is quite similar to what brought gay and lesbians to such angry stupor over rights. They are human too.

N: But not drink? I can't see why.


N, let me try to explain.

It tastes bad. I indulge in every heavenly food in the universe -- completely debasing the theory of me being a champion for Temperance. But beer tastes like piss to me. Wine tastes like piss to me --- classier piss but piss nonetheless.

Cigarettes --- you may ask next. Tastes like acrid smoke. I'd sooner suck a tambutso.

Drugs --- you ask next. Completely unnecessary since I create my own hallucinogens. My Imagination can forge a rip in time big enough to suck me to another dimension and allow me to stay there for a month, if I want to.

Sex --- you slyly ask next, you fox, you vixen, you. This is the only thing which I have an actual vow of abstinence for; a promise uttered and intimated to the BVM at the tender age of 11 years old --- eons before I had an idea what sex was. None before marriage, no playing with fire. So far, no regrets, and if you would kindly refer to my Winnie the Pooh complications, you would also know why it's not so hard to keep the promise. Besides, sex isn't a vice, I think. It's an extension of love. Only without the latter does it become grimy.

So you see, I am not an utterly complete Teetotaler. And even if I am, I deserve to exist the way I believe I must. Angels preserve me like sweet apricots which I just hope would not rot forever in the cupboard of some decripit basement for all time.

Now, N. Can we move on to talk about something interesting this time? Like how floor tiles are manufactured and why tennis balls are fuzzy? With the life I've been living, I can promise you I actually know. :)