Liv in a Life Well-Lived

I chanced upon an interesting e-book today. It’s a number of novels written by Laurell Hamilton, the Anita Blake series. Anita is an animator (read: necromancer) and a vampire slayer. And we’re not talking about Buffy here. She’s not blond and she’s not cutesy. She works on retainer as vampire slayer for the St. Louis police force because in their reality, the US has just legalized vampirism (Bush is just a few years ahead of his time then). So instead of being able to kill them on sight, they need to get warrants of arrest. As an animator, she gets paid to raise the dead so that they could perform convenient functions such as relay lost pieces of information or give last messages. It also comes in very handy if there’s a dispute over a will. All people have to do is pay (dearly, if I might add) an animator to perform the rites and they could ask the person involved to clarify things up in the flesh, which is sometimes rotting and smelly to boot. Nifty, eh? I’m already reading the thir

I finally got to watch Dark Knight with Ella last night. The movie was great. The movie house wasn’t. We made the mistake of watching it in MOA (not IMX, a regular cinema) and it would’ve been fabulous if there weren’t so many kids under 13 playing marching band games up and down the stairs while the movie was progressing. How the hell did they get in anyway? Wasn’t Batman a PG13 movie? Those kids were barely 6! I actually shushed a boy who was shouting for his sister. I told him not to play in the dark and to be quiet. He had the audacity to poke his tongue out at me. It took all my will power not to stand up and growl like an ogre at him. That’ll send him running and let’s see if he doesn’t bite his tongue off in fright. I mean, really. What kind of parents will let their kids play in pitch darkness? Oh wait -- I guess the kind of parents who will shout “Sino gusto ng ketsap!” in the middle of the movie. Yes. Screw those ill-bred half-wits. Then there was that man who did not just fo

Sigh. Haven't watched it yet. I was supposed to, pero nailang ako ng konti sa set-up. I came from a training and long day sa DLSU tomorrow. It's not the best time. Buti na lang hindi rin pwede yung ibang kasama ko. I would love to watch it, but right now, I'd rather be sleeping. Maybe I'll get to catch Heath Ledger over the weekend. -====-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-====- P.S> Ikaw: I am so irritated with you right now. Sulk much? I don't care about you THAT much to put up with your moods or immaturity.

Weird. Ang bait talaga ni Lord. Just when I was flaming the Urban Poor for being hopeless, He sends me a little candle of hope. The day after I ranted against STEP-UP, we held a field trip where we visited our old areas to observe how our program has helped the community. I have been to all the areas, but I haven't met all the people. Sa unang community pa lang, when we asked them to share what they value the most about the program, halos paulit-ulit nilang sabihin ang training. Palagi daw may training, puro training, pero they claim it helped them become a better organization. Hmmm... hindi naman masyadong timing diba? Just when I'm ready to believe they are the untrainables, they now say they got much from it. I'm not saying I have made a complete turnaround... that I now love them again to bits... but it does lend me a better perspective. I cannot measure the impact of trainings immediately. It's something to be appreciated during crunch time andin hindsight. Well. I

I don't know if I'm just immature, but everytime I'm asked to work on STEP-UP, I'm as inspired as a dead frog. Financial trainings, investment management, housing loan, livelihood, drone, drone, drone, blah, blah, blah....That's all I hear. So naturally, I can contribute naught to the discussions. I can't even bring myself to like it one iota. I honestly think the urban poor are hopeless. They are stubborn people to start with. They wanted to be there. And if they do want to progress, they will find ways on their own. With the countless opportunities being provided to them, they just suck on it until all blood's gone. Then they move on. Sometimes, it's not about the priorities anymore, it's their whole culture. And training, which I'm supposed to be doing, is SUPPOSED to help them. But one could teach them until their hair turns white, but if they don't want to do it, don't care to see it through, learn to find their own personal volition

I am now ready to admit that I am missing half of the world's imaginative genius because I don't read enough comic books! I have heard the latest Batman movie is amazing, but I have very little to work on about Two-Face and the Joker because I never really read the comic books. I know absolutely nothing about Ironman before the movie and would've thought he was a construction worker. I mean, that is some major gap in my education right there. I cannot rightfully call myself a genius if these little things are beyond my grasp. I watched Wanted today and I was blown away by the story. Half the time I was muttering "Astig!" to myself and the other half I spend wondering how come I'm not spewing something about begging too much for suspension of disbelief. After the movie, I realized it's because the story was tightly held together. It wasn't some half-baked glory shot of a violent fraternity; it has a kick-ass origin story that wouldn't let a microbe

Unphotographed I used to play this game a couple of years ago. I try to paint a scene I witnessed with words, usually because I had no camera to take a picture with. The other day while commuting from work, I saw something I really wou'dve like to have captured on film. But it would take more than one shot, so my title might be more aptly renamed as Unfilmed. From the back of the FX I was riding, I saw a young couple in a red Honda Civic cruising Commonwealth Avenue. The roads were jammed and this gave me more time to play voyeur into their private world. (I am bad, but I am also compulsively observant). I couldn't see the girl's face, but she was thin and had long hair that she wore down. What captured my attention was this: she was leaning sideways and resting her head on the guy's shoulders. Awwww shucks, sweet, right? I know this is some feat to be accomplished. I personally think a girl would have to lean sideways so far just so to reach the driver's shoulder.

Thanks to Sem's innumerable resources, we got to watch a special screening of the latest version of the Journey to the Center of the Earth. When she invited me to grab one of her free tix, I got so hyped cos you know Josh Hutcherson? He's my boy! I have loved him since his stint in Little Manhattan. He is the darnest, most adorable kiddo on the planet. Brendan Frazer is, to me, a kind of blaaah --- never liked him, except maybe only for one shot in the Mummy (1). But Josh... he's the kid I want to have. I will even go as far a wait for him to legally cross his jailbait status unto the realm of legal age and marry him so we can make a lot more tiny Joshes for the benefit of human kind. The movie was, of course, a no-brainer. But fun. And I'm not saying that cos Josh is in it. If I was a five-year-old kid wanting to be introduced to the world of fantastic cinema, this movie ain't a bad introductory film. I will totally bring Gabe to watch this. Even though I did qu

The gay, the fat, and the ugly... These are the new addition to the socially-marginalized sectors. I, at least, can vouch for the fat one part. I grew up fat. I was, am, probably will be huge for the rest of my life. I have come to accept my peace with this, and I'm not even going to say some lame excuse about faulty genes or hereditary bullshit. I AM FAT, and I can turn you into a pancake any hot minute I damn want. We're looked upon as pathetic & undisciplined porkers who ought to pay double everytime we ride public transportation. We can be just as large and looming as any basketball player, but no, they will probably get free rides in comparison. And the verbal harassment --- my god. What kicks do they get from saying "Balyena" or Tambok" out loud? They can just be riding past me on a bicycle and as if some godforsaken force eats them inside and they won't be able to pedal one inch more if they don't spit out "Bigatin!" And public transp

Superheroes based on comic book characters are the in-thing nowadays in Hollywood. See the umpteenth version of the Incredible Hulk, as well as the upcoming Dark Knight movie. Realistically though, Incredible Hulk was only cool because Liv Tyler's there, but guys I know expressed their disappointment they didn't get to see much rack or pursed lips as they wanted. The Dark Knight will be a blockbuster because a LOT of people will get a kick out of seeing Heath Ledger's last, last movie. I'm sure because I'm one of them. It'll be creepy good. But --- as the tag line of the movie says, there are heroes, there are superheroes, and then there's Hancock. I wanted to watch the film. As in I really, really was waiting for it. That's why I didn't mind falling in line for the ticket, and it was quite a long line. IMagine, barely 3 days into its showing, people were lining up for it! I can't imagine the weekend polls, it might go through the roof. It was go

This has been a topic between two of my guy workmates (J and Ian) and it started when Ian asked if it was better to watch Mamma Mia than the High School Musical 2 on Ice. Given that we left high school 9 years ago (and for J even longer), we didn't have a choice but to recommend Mamma Mia instead. But J did emphasize that it sounds so ---- kabadingan was the term, I think. He didn't mean it as a cruel remark. He just meant, healthy males with proto-type straightness would generally find it --- too gay. We also agreed that only gays and uber chick-flick desperadoes will willingly watch the movie. And I am fairly sure that Ian is not gay, as much as he is sure of himself. But Ian's tickets were for free and he is the conscripted family driver, so he went with his younger sisters anyway. He was forced to, right? He texted me last night, after the showing and his texts say: "Damn! This is the gayest movie I ever watched.... Tangna talaga sobrang daming kanta and I thought

Here's the first part of a novella I'm writing about --- you guessed it ---- a girl who knew she was going to die. It's not gonna be so dreary promise! Once upon a time, a little way off from the land made of asphalt streets and concrete palaces, lived a girl named Skylar. She dwells in a house at the foot of a small hill surrounded by trees and bugs. Shelves and shelves of books surround the walls of her home. Day and night, she pours over them carefully, making notes, and memorizing facts. She gathers knowledge like rose petals, like june bugs --- the more the lovelier. She believes she knows almost everything, and she is almost right. She knows so much that she knows even the event of her impending death. She knows it is soon, and she does not have a lot of time. Skylar knew affairs had to be in order --- wills should be written, people properly said goodbye to, and places seen before she does pass on. It was quite a task and she knew she needed help setting it all up. T

I have been dreaming of it for so long... I've always thought that one of these future Christmases, I'd like to surprise my friends with a copy of my book as their Christmas gift. Which book this is has of course changed over the course of 5 years. YES! I've been planning to do it for the last 5 years already, but even until now, I haven't finished a single story in the freakin' anthology. This makes me feel really lousy. Loser kind of lousy, just so to be clear. But then, I read a book today called Jacob's Ladder by Colin McKay and it scared me to death. The book isn't a work of fiction. He wrote it nine weeks before he committed suicide. He just sent it to an editor and then killed himself right after. And throughout his whole prose, he was describing how writing affects him so much. How not being able to publish a single book has made him feel like a complete failure. That's just the start of it. His religion revolves around books and film (if he wasn

In a flash of sudden enlightenment, it hit me: No, Liv. YOU grow up.

You confuse me soooooooo much. I don’t understand how you can get from being hair’s breadth kind of close to Grand Canyon kind of being apart. If you were anybody else, my reaction would be something to the tune of “Go screw yourself,” and it would be well said (or sung). But it’s you, and all I find myself doing is being utterly confused. You’d go days on end without communicating, and I let you because I’ve learned my lesson about “soliciting” communications. You consciously avoid me (believe me, I noticed) and act like if you could go through the whole thing without me, you’d be happier. But then suddenly, you’d go all puppy-dog hang-about again and throw me out of the loop. What I feel hasn’t changed but I can deal with it. Grow up and deal with yours. Let’s do away with this dreary middle stance weirdness. Let’s just deal.

Ever noticed that people stop asking embarrassing questions once they grow up? Of course, the common standards of etiquette demand it; society calls for maturity and civilized behavior from its individuals. Don’t ask anything that will make other people frown, squirm or sweat (in short don’t make them feel any emotion except joy --- the spectrum of feeling has been relegated to just one acceptable form). But I’ve observed that the more we stop asking honest questions, the more confusing life becomes. How many families break because of questions left unasked and answers left unsaid? How many missed opportunities have we lost because we never dared to forward a query? In celebration of the child who wants to know, I am listing down the things I would ask and do if I was only as courageous as a five-year-old. THINGS I WOULD ASK: Do you love me? Can you? Why are we friends? Am I beautiful? Will you share your pasta with me? Am I needy? Do you think I have what it takes to really succeed in

I have been beastly today. Snarled at my workmates, threw stuff around (including tantrums). I am not proud of it. But it felt ---- uncontrollable. Like a beast that tore away at my chest, roaring to get out, and I needed to let it out or else it will devour me from the inside. Horrendous Olivia came out and slew everyone in its path. The pain in my back MAY be the cause of it. I feel like a grandmother whose spine is about to break into two. SNAP! Just like that, and there'll be 2 Olivias lying useless on the ground. Ugh. All over me, there's just PAIN. Hate it, hate it, hate it.