Parallel Universe 2

I guess what makes The Office work is that it’s so real. I keep saying this. Not because it’s made ‘documentary’ style, but because it is founded on some very basic, palpable truths.

Every office around the world is different. But somehow, the show managed to touch on what was the same. The writers based some of their stories on their experiences working for General Electric, and right there you can be sure that they didn’t just dream up the scenarios.

We’ve always known that commonplace is often funnier than complicated plotlines. Sometimes even Friends writers forgot this, and they ended up with an exhausting 30 minutes about Ross and his stupid monkey. The Office’s premises can be outrageous and amplified sometimes, but they get away with it because they treat it so matter-of-factly.

Funny is everyday life, seen from a certain vantage point (a single camera with great zoom, perhaps?). Funny is catching people’s reactions after an officemate’s emotional outburst. Not all reactions consist of an exaggerated frozen gape while the studio audience laughs. No one does that in real life anyway especially when a furrowed brow would be sufficient.

Everyday life is sad, poignant, heartwarming, bittersweet, awkward, sincere, and so many other things. The show captures this range of emotions so beautifully in such a simple way: just by watching the characters. In the foreground, background, to the side, wherever they are. They don’t even need to speak – because in reality sometimes our words belie how we really feel. The show understands that the devil is in the detail, and that the whole weight of an emotion can be seen literally in the blink of an eye, or a quiet sigh or a pause between sentences. The show delivers these subtleties and nuances perfectly. Props also to the actors who truly understand the material they’re working with. The characters of The Office are so well developed that during shooting the actors do their own stuff in the background for hours, with the single camera catching them only once in while, and they never miss a beat.

What can I say? I love the show. If you haven’t seen it then go grab a DVD. That’s what she said.

Parallel Universe

Last weekend, my Kris KringleMommy/Daddy (Secret Santa) gave me Seasons 1-3 of The Office (US). I haven’t slept since then. Solb na ako ngayong Pasko.

There are very few TV sitcoms that catch my attention. I grew up watching Friends and Cheers, so my standards have always been high hahaha. Comedy I think is the hardest to do; the writers have to be consistently brilliant. More than that, they have to know the difference between brilliant and crazy stupid. There’s a very thin line. If you don’t see that, you start to become self-absorbed, and the show basically implodes. I stopped watching Ally McBeal when its writers crossed that line.

That said, The Office is a brilliant show. I had my doubts when it first came out, seeing that the original UK version was so widely successful. But this tiny show about a mid-sized paper company in Scranton, Pennsylvania shines all the way through, from Michael Scott’s antics, Pam and Jim’s romance, Dwight’s sucking up, and even Angela’s turtlenecks. I tried to catch as much as I could on cable, but until last weekend I hadn’t been able to watch the episodes in the right succession.

(This is going to be a long entry with at least two parts, so be prepared.)

One of the very few reasons why I go to work day in and day out is that I find highly entertaining the obvious parallelisms about my office and The Office. It amuses me no end. Sometime I catch myself smirking at the thought, only there’s no camera to look at when I do it, like Jim often does. I’m surveying my desk now and seeing Dwight’s bobble heads in the form of my miniature Cinderella statue, an elephant keychain, an Irishman magnet, a Matchbox Beetle and a stuffed Funshine Bear. My phone is a Cisco (imagine how thrilled I was when our MIS first brought the phones in. I have to say, though, it’s not the easiest thing to navigate. Pam’s a whiz at transferring calls).

I work for a branch of a multi-office company. With more than 70 offices worldwide, we’re a little bigger than Dunder Mifflin’s Northeast US-based company. But the structure is the same: regional office composed of a few local staff and headed by a local guy, once-in-a-blue-moon visits from corporate executives with whom we have conflicting views on how business is run, and very little budget. Our former receptionist had a secret office romance with one of our business development guys – I say former because they got married and left the country (wonder if that will happen to PB&J*). I have an officemate who pulls pranks on co-workers a lot, except he’s not tall and cute like Jim (hah! Sorry friend!). My cube mates and I play rock-paper-scissors, and whoever loses makes orange juice for the winner. I have become an expert OJ maker. We bet a lot over inane things like Tagalog-English translations and Harry Potter trivia. The loser usually serves the winner snacks for an entire week or buys coffee at Starbucks, except we don’t call it ‘Bucks like Michael Scott** does.

The layout of our office makes us open for attack by our boss. By attack I mean the way Michael swaggers in and makes pointless announcements to the entire staff in his booming voice. Most of the time he gets blank looks and the occasional “Uhh, okay.”

My desk faces a corner, so whenever our boss comes over, I always jump out of my skin because he surprises me from behind. I’m too lazy to swivel my chair to face him, so when we talk it’s like I’m talking to my PC monitor. Lack of respect? Possibly. He doesn’t seem to mind talking to the back of my head.

Sexism, racism, ageism and all kinds of bigotry? Check. Asshole boss who likes to crack humorless jokes, tells stripper and mistress stories at a table full of women and talks crass all the effin time? Check. The uptight accountant/admin officer who acts like a Nazi? Oh, and the boss who gets told off by bigger bosses from the head office, and takes it out on his staff like an immature, selfish, ignorant child. Or the staff who look at each other knowingly when the boss speaks nonsense, and afterward in a subtle, inside-joke way puts him in his place via a small remark and eye-rolling. Or the motivational meetings and workshops that take up the whole afternoon, and the expensive office dinners even when the entire company is in the process of downsizing.

The boss showing up at an after-office party to which he was intentionally not invited (you notice I make a lot of reference to the boss). The missent emails and careless comments about a gay officemate, emergency staff meetings about the broken printer and dirty toilet (conference room, everyone!), quitting your job and then returning, and your job being…just that. (Because right now, this is a job. If I advance any higher, this would be my career. And if this were my career, I'd have to throw myself in front of a train. - Jim Halpert)

I could go on and on and on, but it all comes down to one thing. The Office is very real. As real as the list of phone line extensions taped to your PC, and your pink and green Post-it notes. As real as carpal tunnel syndrome, extended coffee breaks and solitaire on a slow day. As real as the annoying sound of tapping computer keys when you have a headache, or your very strong urge to hurl a shoe at a certain office door. Now I see the sheer genius behind the show’s mockumentary style – no canned laughter, no background music save for a constantly ringing phone and the occasional office karaoke. No predictable puns or storylines (Did I wake up this morning thinking I’d be throwing together a bird funeral? You never can tell what your day here is gonna turn into. – Pam Beesly).

No frills. Just a regular day at The Office.

To be continued.

*PB&J aka Pam Beesly and Jim (Halpert), receptionist and sales associate, respectively. Also known as JAM (Jim+Pam). Jim hangs out at the reception desk all the time. I remember my officemate sitting by the reception desk all the time. I thought he was just bored. Well, that, too.

** Michael Scott, regional manager

THE MILLION HECTARE WALK 2008 - Haribon Foundation

The Million Hectare Walk is an event which aims to raise funds through pledges. Every lap completed by a Walker is sponsored by family and friends’ pledges. Walkers can take the long route (1.5 km) or the short route (360 meters).

You are cordially invited to walk with us on November 16 Sunday at 6:00-11:00 am to help restore our natural forests. Join the Million Hectare Walk at the Ninoy Aquino Parks and Wildlife Center in Quezon City and support ROAD* to 2020 as we walk to generate pledges to raise awareness and resources to restore one million hectares of our natural forests using native tree species by year 2020. Form a team to walk together, enlist family members and friends, and solicit pledges to support your laps to raise funds to plant more native trees.

Registration fees per walker at P250 for kids and for Haribon Members, and P300 for non-members, will cover a t-shirt and bag. Pledges start at P75. To register and/or for details, please call 4211213 or 4244642, 09228159235 or 09228151942, or email act@haribon.org.ph.

Download forms:
Registration form
Pledge form

Oh, and I might be bipolar.

another one of those nights

If you're an Aries, never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever marry another Aries. Ever.

:D

I had the best Halloween. Ever.

hay

Bourdain in Manila. Why was Juday there?

He also went to Cebu. Prolly ate lechon.

They said he got drunk on San Mig. Hahaha.

The episode will air in Asia in 2010. Anubah. Thank god for youtube!

Tony

Anthony Bourdain was in the Philippines last week.

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I cannot believe I did not know this. I learned about it today when I checked Cafe Ysabel's website for their menus, and I saw a photo of him at the restaurant.

:(

dream sequence '08

I was riding a jeepney on the SLEX service road, presumably on my way home. For some reason I was in a conversation with a stranger, and again for some unknown reason it was very clear to me that he was Atenean. Maybe a jock, not sure. He had a huge torso. Anyway, the jeep finally stopped, and I found myself at the lobby of my old school, UP Manila. It was suddenly raining, very hard. The rain looked like sheets of water falling from the dark sky. Was it nighttime? It was dark everywhere.

I wanted desperately to get a ride home. I needed to go upstairs – I don’t know why but this seemed the way out – but I was extremely afraid. Like there were ghosts waiting for me somewhere in the dark. I saw Ms Jing, one of our consultants, and asked her to come upstairs with me. We did, and again for some reason I ended up in a sort of bay area for vehicles. It was still dark and raining, A jeepney stopped by and I jumped in.

I arrived home, finally. I looked into my parents’ room and saw my brother sleeping face down on the pillows. I went into another room and saw Edward Norton, circa American History X. Muscles and tattoos and all. He looked like a live version of grayscale magazine print ad, meaning he was a glossy gray color. He was sitting on one of the two beds in the room, writing furiously in what looked like a journal. He was writing about his mentally challenged brother. I moved away from him and went to the bathroom. The toilet was full of rust, and there was no water and no tissue. I went back to Edward’s spot and saw his brother instead. He was reading Edward’s journal. I thought, yikes, busted.

At that point I think I woke up. Very physically tired, and puffy-eyed.

Obviously, my strange dreams are back.

Kainis. I don’t like these dreams of mine. They seem so senseless. The thing is they’re not. I believe they do mean something.

But I don’t have anyone to help me interpret them. So hello, internet. Yes, not very reliable, but neither are the books on dreams proliferating in stores nowadays. And I was curious and impatient. I wanted to be placated and humored.

Anyway, since there’s no way to have my dream “analyzed” without paying a fee (and I never would), I resorted to pulling out key concepts and browsing through the “dream dictionary” for available definitions (very scientific hahaha). Thus:

(from petrix.com)

Road. Achievement of something. Direction. Ask yourself about your life's path.

Stranger. Outsider. Unknown. Mystery needs to be revealed.

Dark. Mystery. The unknown and unformed. A place of fear or of potential. Difficulties ahead.

School. Discipline. Instruction. You have the skills to resolve a problem.

Rain. Release. Feelings are pouring down on you.

Stairs. Up or down. Aspirations. Looking to get to certain point against all opposition.

Fear. Unexpressed love. Self-doubts. Courage.

Ghost. Spiritual aspect of self. Memory. Past coming back. Beware of enemies.

Vehicles. Transportation. Movement. Looking for a medium to get where you want to be.

Home. Center of being. Spiritual self. Shelter. Basic need fulfilled. Happiness within the family.

Bed. Retreat from activity. Rest.

Brother. Fellowship. Expect quarrels. Masculine aspect of self.

Sleeping. Relaxation and rest. Unconsciousness. False security.

Back (because it was my brother's back I saw). Misfortune in life and will die in misery (whaaaaaat?). Unconscious.

Bedroom. Changes in own affairs. Concealment of family secrets.

Writing. Communication. Review of your feelings. Record of experience.

Reading. Learning. Information revealed. Escape from reality. Something burdens you.

Rust. Deterioration. Inactivity. Problems that need to be taken care before it's too late.

So how about that? Does it make sense now? Except for the bits on the jeepney being the specific vehicle, Ateneo, Ms Jing and Edward Norton, the explanations have frightening potential.

Also, I ran across another term and remembered I’ve had several dreams (not this particular dream, though) about making pupu.

Defecation. Elimination. Dumping, especially of garbage from the past.

It seems I do more work dealing with my “issues” in my dreams than in real life.

pm break

16.27. I go to the office pantry to take a break from doing nothing. Iced coffee sounds nice. I check, no clean glasses. Ok, normal coffee then. Black No cream, lots of sugar. I sit on a stool by the window, enjoying the warm respite from my ultra-cold spot directly under the overhead AC. I look to my right, at the condiments all lined up neatly, courtesy of our utility guy who shares my surname. I think, given time, I could really finish that entire bottle of iodized salt.

Clouds move in and cover the light streaming into the window. An officemate walks in. “May tao (anyone inside)?” he asks, pointing to the bathroom beside the sink. I shake my head and smile. He goes in, probably wondering what I’m doing in the pantry. Because no one hangs out there alone unless he or she is waiting in line for the bathroom, right?

I say to myself, no one in this office really knows me. They “know” me – my name and what I do and the general perception of me, but not much else. They don’t know that I like to drink coffee black no cream with lots of sugar, or that I can spend an hour sitting and drinking coffee alone, staring at the sky. And surely they don’t know why.

There are probably two or three people here who do know me. They’re the only ones I’d actually consider inviting to my wedding. I think weddings not because I’m having one myself, but because as one grows older you realize it’s one of those events where you really think about who you want to surround yourself with, people who share your truest, deepest joy and understand the meaning of that special glitter in your eyes. Not just anyone. Not just because you’re obligated to tack that generic wedding invitation on the office bulletin board, and then guess who will actually be attending.

Two or three people are enough, maybe. But it goes to show how, despite the fun times, the laughter and the friendly bickering, talking about work and movies and politics, that the office is still such an impersonal, almost manufactured environment.

Except that I hear my officemate pissing in the bathroom, which is such a…personal matter.

Before he opens the door and is embarrassed at the sight of me, I stand up, place my cup in the sink and make my way through our red maze known as cubicles.

Back to my cold spot.

Back to looking like everyone else and thinking how f*cking delicious it would be to break free.

Who knows, maybe that’s what they’re thinking, too.

Homecomings, Conventions

You know you’re getting old when you look forward to ballroom dancing at graduate school reunions. Which is exactly how I was at the UP-School of Urban and Regional Planning (UP-SURP) Grand Alumni Homecoming. Given that I only graduated last year and I'm *only* 26, I shouldn’t have been as excited as, say, EnP Ted Encarnacion, one of SURP’s first ever graduates (batch ’69). But I was excited. I couldn’t help it! I had a blast. It was fun seeing classmates, professors and older alumni let their hair down and get jiggy with it! From Dr Bravo’s dyosa look, Sir Mel Luna’s electric dancing, to Jed’s wavy Harry-Potter-just-fought-Voldemort hair, Cherry with San Mig in hand (classic!), and everyone else laughing and enjoying, well, it was worth the wait. Oh and let us not forget the biggest revelation that night. Edison can dance! And how! He can whip up a mean swing number, my goodness. We will never hire a DI again!

The Homecoming was such a success that when I told Sir Tomi (president of our Alumni Association), "see you next year!" he answered in his typical endearing, flamboyant way, "no, see you in December!" An Alumni Christmas party? Indeed, see you all then!

For me, the event started way before the night itself. A couple of months earlier, Prof Jimenez and, subsequently, Dr Bravo ‘commissioned’ EnPraxis to produce the souvenir program for the event. I thought it would be a snap since I’ve had long experience in layout and publication.

Well it was, kind of, it’s just that it coincided with another souvenir program we were doing -- this time for the Philippine Institute of Environmental Planners (PIEP) National Convention, which was held a week before the Homecoming. Not to mention the other pre-Convention preparations i.e. follow-up of speakers and invitations to participants; tarpaulin, ID and logo designs; convention kits; powerpoint presentations; venue checks and food-tasting; and I have to mention it’s a good thing Ma’am Liza listened when I told her to get rid of that nasty-ugly styrofoam PIEP seal! Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

Speaking of the Convention, that went down well, too. It was much better organized than the previous years' conventions (thanks in part to us hahaha), but it doesn't mean there weren't knots to be untied and kinks to be ironed out backstage. Photofinish pa rin in a way. But I'm glad the cool was kept. ;) We were happy to be there, if only to help take the load off Ma'am Liza and Ms Arlene.

I digress. So…between those two events, we were short of biting off more than we can chew. Before I knew it I was spending days in front of the computer, missing work and getting horribly sick. Not a day had passed after the Convention and we had already moved on to the next task. Two days before the Homecoming I was living off coffee and sleeping a mere 20 minutes. I also felt guilty for dragging Len, Chris, Edison, Vir and Lorenzo down this road with me hehe. Mark doesn’t count because he has no choice.

But I do think it paid off quite nicely. Like Len said, we have arrived (hmm, how many times have we arrived na ba? hahahahaha). It’s fun to be acknowledged for doing something nice. To be introduced to our peers in such a positive way. And the full-page ad in the Homecoming program sure doesn’t hurt hahaha. Ultimately, though, it feels great to have done something truly worthwhile, something you were passionate about and believed in. We do believe in our school and in our professional organization, and I’m glad we were able to contribute in some small way to the success of their much-awaited and labored-upon events.

I would do everything again in a heartbeat. But maybe not simultaneously! :o

*photos here. Len's takes on our fun "Oktoberfest" here.

random, but not really

I am tired. Simply tired. The past month has not been good to me. As the days and weeks went by, I kept feeling more and more alone. Except for Mark, reasons to push myself to the limit and be better and hopeful have becme harder to find.

Or maybe that’s the problem. I’d pushed myself so much I actually fell off.

But I don’t believe that, really. I won’t make excuses for myself or anyone and say ‘oh I worked too hard, I just need to relax.’ Everybody works hard. Everyone gets sleepless nights. Everyone forgets to eat at some point in the day and struggles to remember which of the things on his/her list has not been done yet.

No. Because I can be physically exhausted, sure. But I know how it is to be tired in a good, delicious way, like when you sink into a couch and think to yourself, it was back-breaking but hey, I did good and it was all worth it.

It doesn’t feel that way now – you know, worth it. Instead, it just feels all kinds of defeated.

The problem, I think, is the steadily creeping disappointment.

See, I’m not the person who gets angry at life. I rarely even get mad at my boyfriend, or most people, for that matter. I can debate until your tongue falls off but anger isn’t generally part of my program. I don’t get nasty either. I don’t wish other people ill. I rarely hold grudges. I don’t fire off.

But I get disappointed. Which, I believe, is far worse than any other negative emotion. Worse because it arises from expectation, from hope and faith. Worse because it fills you to the core, seeping into every crevice in your body, and leaving you not boiling in fury, but rather stoned in silent sadness. It dulls you, presses you against the earth, renders you immovable and listless.

I don’t think words are even enough to express the heaviness that I’m carrying now, this palpable weight that is just dragging me down.

***

How and where I am now can be no farther from how and where I was one year ago. And not in a good way.

Was I wrong to stick it out the way I did? To be stubborn and believe blindly that it could be done? Or was my mother right all along?

***

Why do I feel disappointed? With what, or with whom?

I can’t answer that. All I know is that a part of me wants to run far away, to disappear and rebuild myself. To see if I have something else to offer. Because to be frank I’ve given it all I’ve got, and still I came up close to empty.

***

I still believe in the things I believe in. I just don’t know who else does.

the whole problem with science

What physicists, religious critics and geeks like myself have been waiting for:

First beam in the LHC - accelerating science

A historic moment in the CERN Control Centre: the beam was successfully steered around the accelerator.

Geneva, 10 September 2008. The first beam in the Large Hadron Collider at CERN (European Organization for Nuclear Research) was successfully steered around the full 27 kilometres of the world’s most powerful particle accelerator at 10h28 this morning. This historic event marks a key moment in the transition from over two decades of preparation to a new era of scientific discovery.

“It’s a fantastic moment,” said LHC project leader Lyn Evans, “we can now look forward to a new era of understanding about the origins and evolution of the universe.”

Read the rest of the article here.

Now if you actually read the article and had a slight nosebleed, Calvin has a simpler, thoughtful take on things (click to enlarge):


More Calvin wisdom:

(Calvin is standing behind a box with “SCIENTIFIC NAMES: $1.00” written on it):

Hobbes: "Scientific names?"

Calvin: "Sure. Scientists think up all these cool, wacky theories, but then give them dull, unimaginative names. For instance, scientists think space is full of mysterious, invisible mass, so, what do they call it??? Dark matter! DUUHHHHHH!!! I tell you, there’s a fortune to be made here!"

---

Calvin: Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us.

Ah, I miss Calvin and Hobbes. Someone buy me the book collection please.


Read more about CERN and the Large Hadron Collider. Check out the video, too.

spiralling (to half a tablet, three times a day)

I want to move. Far away, like to another country. For about six months, one year, tops. To study, work part-time, just be. I’ve been wanting to do this for as long as I can remember. And I want to do it before I get any older, get married, start a family, all that. You know, just do it, get it out of my system. Experience it without worrying about feeding children.

I think my family needs me here. Mama’s not well, never has been, really, it’s just becoming more and more obvious now – even she can’t hide it. Alex just got well. I’ve started a company here. After two years it’s still an infant, but hey Rome wasn’t built in a day. I want to start another business with my mother, who needs it more than I do on an emotional and psychological level. My brother’s just basically starting his career, and might need help in some areas of it. Mark’s here.

And oh, I have less than $700 to my name. That’s after five years of working. Can’t even buy a one-way plane ticket.

So these things are pulling my head in many different directions. And I’m just about to go crazy. Again. Hello Alprazolam.

today

Surfed the net for pictures of Ellen and Portia’s exquisite wedding, and ended up at Joshua Radin’s website. He sang at the wedding a song called Today. Beautiful. So I listened to all of Joshua’s new songs and they’re all great. Mental note to search for his current and previous albums (oh my haven’t been to a music store in so long).

Anyway, now I’m a huge fan.

Pointless observation pala: All the celebrities and artists I like or whose work I admire, their names all start with J. John Cusack. Joshua Jackson. Jesse Bradford. Jude Law. And now Joshua Radin.

With the exception of Edward Norton. And Ellen. Whose names start with E. Hahaha! Told you, pointless.

Even in real life. My friends will know that the names of the people I used to like/love/hate (haha) all start with J or E. Mark’s nickname at home is Jomark by the way.

Hay walang kwenta ang post na ‘to hehe. Sakit pa ng tiyan ko huhu.

By Joshua Radin:

Vegetable Car

baby, you don't even know me but one day i'll get up the courage as you pass by you'll see baby, one look just might save me i need you to slow by the corner stop right in front of me till then i'll see you hopefully through i do, wish that you'd ask me to ride along it wouldn't be wrong to tell me more than i know about you she drives a vegetable car diesel mercedes green two-door i barely know who you are lisa loeb glasses i'd sure like to ask you to stay baby, i need you to save me the one thing that my heart requires is that you admire me till then i'll see you hopefully through i do, wish that you'd ask me to ride along it wouldn't be wrong to tell me more than i know about you she drives a vegetable car diesel mercedes green two-door i barely know who you are lisa loeb glasses i'd sure like to ask you to stay how do i know why the sight of you makes me weak each time i see you turn on to my street your hair is always up in a bun this girl's the one she drives a vegetable car diesel mercedes green two-door i barely know who you are lisa loeb glasses i'd sure like to ask you to stay don't go

walang aalis

Found a comment on a recent article/post about the Eheads:

"we love the eraserheads. kahit ilan beses kayo bumalik at magdisband, may manonood pa rin sa inyo.

take your time. andito lang kaming lahat."

Aww.

083008 photos

concert photos

waiting to exhale

What do you do when you're extremely happy and at the same time heartbroken? I don't know. Don't know.

The much-awaited Eraserheads reunion concert ended for me, and I think for most of us, on such a strange note. Quite hard to explain. To say that the Eraserheads reunion concert was a rollercoaster ride is an understatement. The gamut of emotions felt last night cannot be fully expressed here.

I first got wind of the concert from my brother's friend Jaemark, whose blog I usually stalk. Apparently the rumors took a life of their own, mostly through the net, and the build-up was the most intense I have ever seen for any concert. More than talk and speculation, there was just so much emotion invested in this event. Simply because we're talking about the Eraserheads. The single most loved phenomenon in the local music industry of this generation. I was about 13 years old when the Eheads were peaking. I've never actually owned an Eheads CD, and until last night I had never been to any of their concerts. But I, like any other sane Pinoy of my age group, absolutely loved them. They are so much a part of contemporary culture , and their songs brought and continue to bring to life what we mortals only thought and felt. They truly are the soundtrack to our lives.

So there it was, for the past month this great big sleeping giant was slowly waking up. And after all that hoopla with Philip Morris, we learned that it was truly pushing through. I bought my tickets at Greenbelt 1 as soon as I could last Thursday. Psyched myself up (as if we could surpass the already immense excitement) by playing Eheads songs at work. Texted people I thought would be coming. I myself was going with Mark, Camille and Len, but I was hoping to meet others there as well (stretching my luck was more like it).

By Saturday we were all pumped up and ready to go. I went to SURP, after which I went back home to get the car, and fetched Camille who was at a fieldtrip in Manila. By this time Mark, Len and I had found ourselves stuck in traffic, under pouring rain, and constantly checking the radiator in fear of overheating.

"What else could go wrong?" was what we kept asking ourselves and each other. Which really meant, what could possibly go wrong during the concert? I mean, this was an Eheads concert, and an extraordinary one at that. Anything could happen. We were almost sure there would be a stampede. Or that the rains would transfer to Makati and drench us all.

But none of those happened. Instead, we were, as if by magic, given SVIP passes. Yessss! I never even thought there was something better than VIP. I said goodbye to my Patron tickets, and proceeded to grab free "pa-demure" sandwiches served on trays by waiters, plus drinks. SVIP - whatever it means - definitely rocks. Too bad I couldn't get Shiva in. Sowi. :(

When the band (are they still a band? they most definitely were tonight) came out after a riveting countdown, it was just...stunning. They looked so sharp, so present, so alive. They were together. Onstage. Singing songs as a band once again. For everyone there, this was a dream come true. This was history.

Len noticed Buddy taking several deep breaths right before they sang the first song, and we knew that they wanted this to work out perfectly. We all did.

It was perfect, really (they sang With A Smile, which basically made my night). It was going so well. Then Ely took a pause after Lightyears (tama ba?) and sat down on the floor. After that they went to intermission for more than thirty minutes, and never came back as a complete group. Instead, Ely's sister read a message saying his brother had been rushed to the hospital.

And then, just silence. Palpable silence, silence in our minds and hearts. It was as if reality had been yanked from underneath us and we were all suspended.

Like I said, anything could happen. Something was bound to happen, and we suspect everyone in the audience felt it right from the beginning. We sensed something was very wrong when Quark and Mich Dulce and everyone else in their, hmm, posse, started to leave. After that, the crew started packing the instruments.

We just didn't want to entertain the thought, I guess. Long after the announcement, we were still in various states of denial. We lingered at the venue for nearly an hour.

Later that night Len pointed out how this concert was, for her, supposed to bring closure to the Eheads saga, a definitive event that would tell us all where they stand, wherever that is.

But we didn't get that ending. That's how it felt for me, unfinished. Just like when they broke up. It was as if someone/something is telling us that there isn't any period to the story yet; wala pa ring tuldok, gustuhin man nating lahat para na rin sa kapanatagan ng loob. Pero wala eh. It's like we've been inhaling for such a long time, and we haven't let the air out yet.

Which is not to say we weren't content. The fact that they were standing onstage together was amazing already, and the 15 songs were more than enough. We didn't even expect them to perform for more than 45 minutes. First song pa lang, sulit na.

And that's the strange thing, this mixture of emotion. The highs and lows in a single blow.

More than anything, we pray for Ely's recovery. Last time I checked he was stable. Thank God. I heard they were set to do 30 songs, and according to Manong Railing (the burly male staff by the railing separating us from the stage) they were supposed to take breaks every 10th song, but Ely pushed it. His health finally gave in after the 15th song. Was thinking maybe he felt he had to push as far as he could, because the moment he stopped to rest, that would be the end of his night (but this is just me overanalyzing).

There's been a growing buzz (yep, this early) about a Part 2. But the producers and promoters haven't said whether or not this is possible. It would depend on a lot things, most of all Ely's health.

A continuation would be great, but that's in the future. Right now, all I know is that the Eheads have made history, and we're all still holding our breath.

083008

'Nuff said.

Evan's A.R.K.

I saw Evan Almighty this weekend, on HBO. I found Bruce Almighty just okay, so I wasn’t too excited about this.

I ended up watching Evan three times wehehe.

Sure, the movie reviews were almost all bad. And I didn’t like Lauren Graham at all (too bad because I’m a Gilmore Girls fan). But I loved it anyway. First of all, Steve Carell is absolutely hilarious. He has a humor that is totally irreverent and yet totally vulnerable. I love him. The fact that I haven’t found a DVD of The Office’s first season is driving me nuts.

Also, I like the movie’s themes, however scattered they may be at times. Congressman Evan Baxter wants to change the world (according to his winning campaign slogan). Who doesn’t? Even for marketing purposes, everyone wants to change the world.

Sometimes (most of the time?) we complain about not being given enough chances to do so. We make excuses for not doing the right things by saying we’re not given enough time, we’re not allowed to, we never had the opportunity. It’s easier that way. Easier to turn our backs and blame the world for not being nice enough.

We have to look further to see that opportunities abound, but not always given to us on a silver platter. God (Morgan Freeman) said, “If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?”

In the movie, Evan, like all of us, is given the opportunity to change the world. And what an opportunity it is. It isn't easy. It’s not like volunteering for Gawad Kalinga. God is making Evan do something crazy and unbelievable and stupid by today’s standards. Crazy and unbelievable because God doesn’t appear to people and send boxes of gopherwood (okay, maple and pine) and ancient tools to make an Ark!? And how the hell could anyone build it by himself? Stupid because granted the above were true, who would anyone even want to? Oh, but God does send the materials – and detailed instructions. And it takes all of Evan’s faith to follow Him, but he does.

That’s something. For me, that’s what movie is about. Faith despite our own doubts, despite fear of ridicule, despite abandonment. As God told Evan, “You fought me every step of the way, but you still did it.”

I found that line very striking. Maybe because I’ve had my own whopping share of doubts – about religion, God, doing things in God’s name, etc. My growing up years were a mishmash of internal tug-of-war and philosophical debates about religion and faith, religion vs. faith, blah blah blah. I feel like I’ve traveled through the ages in search of that truth, and I’m thankful that where I am now is truly a comfortable place, where I am at peace with the things I believe in, and the things that I do because of those beliefs. I still yawn whenever I’m inside our Church (old habits die hard I guess hehe) but I still like being a Catholic, however flawed I or my Church is. I incorporate my Catholicism into my multitude of beliefs about this universe and that higher power, which comes in many different forms and incarnations that are not altogether Catholic. This entry would not be enough to explain how I feel about my faith, which transcends religion, but I can relate to Evan because I also fought, every step of the way. And hey, like Evan, I’m still here.

Since the film is about changing the world, it’s also about, well, the world. Why it needs changing in the first place. The “a-ha” angle was of course, the environment: the impacts of market-oriented, corporation-backed onerous land use laws; encroaching on national parks for the sake of “development”; the simple act of ignorantly choosing endangered Amazonian cherry wood over plain maple. God showed Evan a lush natural landscape, then superimposed the high-end housing enclave he was living in to indicate what had been lost because of humans' ambitions. The Great Flood came, of course, from the poorly built man-made lake and dam above the suburb. Some of those touches of environmental awareness and sustainable development wisdom were a little too obvious, but they nonetheless made the little environmental planner in me do a little Evan dance.

I also like the fact the production itself was “environmentally-minded”, offsetting their carbon emissions by planting more than 2000 trees (one for each cast and crew member) near the site and using bikes instead of cars as transportation around the production site. Every little act counts, yes?

In fact, that’s also one of the film’s lessons. How do we change the world? One single Act of Random Kindness at a time.

No excuses, people. Because opportunities to Act are everywhere, for everyone. Asked why he thought God chose him, Evan answered honestly and correctly: “He chose all of us.”

---

Quotes:

Evan Baxter: [Looks into rearview, sees God who just appeared out of nowhere] AAGGGHHHHH! AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!
God: [smiling] Let it out, son. It's the beginning of wisdom.

---

Joan Baxter: Honey, maybe God didn't mean a literal flood. Maybe he meant a flood of knowledge, or emotion, or awareness.
Evan Baxter: If that's true, I am going to be *so pissed*.

---

Evan Baxter: [on the ark, addressing a big crowd] People! The flood is imminent!
[everyone looks around, bewildered, and up at the sunny sky. Evan addresses the heavens]
Evan Baxter: Is it too much to ask for a LITTLE PRECIPITATION?

---

Ark Reporter: What makes you think God chose you?
Evan Baxter: He chose all of us.

---

God: Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?

---

God: How do we change the world?
Evan Baxter: One single act of random kindness at a time.
God: [spoken while writing A-R-K on ground with a stick] One Act, of, Random, Kindness.

---

[Rita voices her disbelieve in Evan's ark]
Rita: Look, I go to church every Sunday.
[Evan doesn't believe her]
Rita: Every "other" Sunday.
[Evan still doesn't believe her]
Rita: I've been to church!

---

Evan Baxter: Do I know you?
God: Not as much as I'd like.

---

God: One nation, under Me, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
[looks over at Evan]
God: How long you wanna do this son? I've got all eternity.
Evan Baxter: [faints dead away]

---

Rita: The way things are going, if he gets any crazier, we might end up in the White House.

---

Ark Reporter: It's September 22nd and we're all still here...awkwarrrd!

mindcrap

I recently looked around my room, surveying the mess that had accumulated over the past year. I began counting the bags that I saw.

When I reached 50, I stopped.

Fifty! More than that actually, because I lost count after 50. And that doesn't include the bags my mother and I share (sosyo).

Egads. How could a person own so many redundant things? This morning I resolutely pulled down several bags from the racks and threw them into a large paper bag. Time for some mid-year cleaning.

I retired a beat-up cotton bag from college, a flaking faux leather bag from 168, a very stained black bag from mama's friend, and some others I mustered enough strength to say goodbye to. I started to feel good after about 10 bags. Tomorrow I'll get back to the lot. Maybe I can manage to clean up my entire room, too (cross your fingers).

They say your room is a reflection of your state of mind. If this is so, then my head must be a complete and utter mess.

Here's the thing: I don't disagree. Which is somehow ironic because I pretty much have everything in life at the moment. Life's a blast. Things are going great.

Yet there's a queasy feeling I just can't let go of. Something at the pit of my stomach that just doesn't feel...right. I can't pinpoint what it is, what causes it and where it leads to. All I know is that it travels through my body and settles in my head, trumping my otherwise brilliant logic. It contradicts what could be a perfectly happy condition. It completely messes things up.

God, what is that? What is this illness, this...syndrome? I need to know because my head is this roomful of beautiful junk, and I think I may need to throw some stuff away. But what?

The Office: Bioman

(warning: not very nice. may even be politically incorrect.)

Last week I was at the office quite early (coz I wanted to leave early haha). It was a nice morning, and I was feeling good. Because I was feeling good I turned on my PC and played my usual morning music.

"Excuse me."

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard the voice. I looked behind me and saw one of our consultants, a thin-framed Brit with balding white hair and a light liver spots.

"Could you turn the music down?" he said, followed by "it sounds whiny" or some other indistinct mumbling.

Well hey there. Hey hey HEY. David Archuleta hadn't even gotten through his first verse yet. Okay granted, he's Archie and he does sound a bit whiny, but how could have thin-framed Brit possibly known that when he was sitting all the way on the other side of the office?? And the volume on my PC was at the lowest level. The lowest, because I hate loud music. Especially on such a nice morning.

I wanted to huff and puff, but instead I smiled through gritted teeth and took out my earphones. He should be lucky all he heard was Archie, because up next was Cookie belting out Billie Jean, and I'm sure ol' Brit would be tumbling his way to my cubicle to shush me if he heard that. Hmp. Stupid consultants.

A couple of days later I learned that he was shushing people from all corners of the office, people who not only were on the other end of the floor, but were also separated from him by actual, thick walls, and whose music was just as low as mine! Now, I'm all for some peace and quiet and respecting other people's peculiar working conditions, but man, he would come knocking and pointing out noise that no else hears. It's completely baffling. How does he do that?! Bionic ears, I tell you. I think he can hear a pin drop, literally. Must be excruciating. I imagine his entire body vibrating violently whenever he talks.

Hmm, maybe that's why he kept looking at us, everytime we gathered and discussed things at our common area. I thought he merely wanted "to belong". Now I think he wanted to kill us, but restrained himself and simply stared.

Or maybe his superhuman ears were internally bleeding. Must. Not. Smirk.

Shoutout from Paranakyu and its lovely environs

Finally. Southerners represent!

http://southbound.ph

The Office

Seeing that I, despite my declarations of freedom, won’t be leaving my day job anytime soon, I thought I’d take out the misery by writing about the daily happenings in my immediate 9am-6 pm environs, to be filed under ‘the office’ of course. Because sometimes life really is like a sitcom/mockumentary, and when you have your very own Michael Scott, you just can’t resist. I’m still looking for my Dwight Schrute.

Because right now, this is a job. If I advance any higher, this would be my career. And if this were my career, I'd have to throw myself in front of a train. - Jim Halpert

FINALLY!!!

No longer just a theory, dizizit:

http://www.philstar.com/archives.php?aid=2008071263&type=2

See you all there!

lilypad

http://vincent.callebaut.org/page1-img-lilypad.html

There are things that make you really wonder about what life is about. I mean, really think. There is a moment, for example, when all the cliché, romanticized scenarios about suffering suddenly fall by the wayside, to reveal a blunt, ugly truth that cannot be shaken or fashioned to suit your current fascinations.

You see other people with a debilitating disease, or learn of someone’s sudden, tragic death, and you feel sorry for them while thanking the stars for how lucky you are. Then you move on. You never really get the full grasp of what it means until it hits close to home, to you or a close relative or a very dear friend. Then and only then will you be able to comprehend the incomprehensible. And it’s something that can hardly be explained, only felt and known.

You realize that things happen for no apparent reason other than the one you invent for yourself, in an attempt to fill the blackest void. You learn that pain can, in fact, be abysmal, endless, enduring.

And so can love.

Just when they thought he was out...

...he pulls himself back in.

Ladies and gentlemen, Robert Downey Jr. is Iron Man.

Watch it.

Acknowledgement

Wanted to post my 'thank yous' last October, but it seemed less momentous than doing it during graduation time. I also tried looking for my old blog where I posted my undergrad thesis acknowledgement but can't find it, the blog host no longer exists! :( I do seem to remember that I tweaked the text in that blog entry - I was coming out of a bad breakup so I deleted the line that had me thanking my ex, hahaha! If he's reading this, sorry. I think I did put it back in the actual thesis. Or maybe it was the other way around? Oh well, bygones. :p.

So, fast forward. Thank You, 2007/8 edition. No edits, promise. :)


My heartfelt thanks to:

My adviser, EnP Rosario Jimenez, whose enthusiasm, wisdom and kindness have given me the confidence to push forward and be a true advocate; my critic, Prof. Nic Del Castillo, for his insightful comments and suggestions; and my reader, Ms. Remy Amores, for her openness and encouragement.

Mr. Noel Cadorna, Ms. Whang Pacifico and the staff of Muntinlupa City’s Urban Poor Affairs Office; the residents of Esporlas Itaas and Hillsview, especially Mang Lope and Aling Aida; and all the people I spoke, worked and coordinated with during the course of my thesis.

All our professors at UP-SURP, whose individual and collective contributions to the planning field serve both as an inspiration and a challenge; indeed, my contemporaries and I are standing on the shoulders of giants.

Ate Luz Rivera, Ate Me-ann Esporas, Kuya Robbie Rodriguez and all the administrative and library staff of UP-SURP, whose tireless effort and patience keep students afloat.

UP-SURP as a whole, for opening my eyes and being the compelling, living, breathing environment that it is. It has been a witness to our yearnings and bold imaginings, we hope to return to it triumphant.

Dear friends Len and Edison, all my partners at EnPraxis and other co-SURPees with whom I now share common dreams and lasting friendships. From baby steps to giant leaps…onward to a genuine praxis of environmental planning!

Mark, my toughest critic and my most fervent cheerleader. Thanks for helping me keep my sanity – and for letting me be crazy when I need to be. Thanks for believing in me even when I refused to believe in myself. Thank you most of all for your love and commitment.

My family – my touchstone, my measure of goodness and integrity. I live and work by their example. Thanks to my brother Ivan, whose sheer genius inspired me throughout this work.

Last but not least, the Almighty, who makes everything possible.

Mabuhay and pag-asa ng bayan (2x)

I made it a point to finish my graduate studies before 2008. I officially graduated last October. Actually it should have been much sooner than that, but as Life would rather have it, I didn’t. My friends and I experienced delays (what would grad school be without them?): thesis roadblocks – except Mark who finished his thesis in a record “less than” one year! and Vir who took the comprehensive exam instead of the thesis path – extra subjects, office work, plain procrastination (of which I am the queen), and other such reasons. It so happened then that the four of us – Len, Mark, Vir and I – would find ourselves marching together, among 4000+ other Centennial graduates of the University of the Philippines.

I should probably say that I’m too old for this. After all, I already attended my undergrad commencement exercises five years ago, how would this be any different? Truth be told it did feel a little bit silly, sitting beside 20-year-olds who were laughing at the guest speaker, repeating the words he was mispronouncing as if it made them feel better to know they could pronounce the word “privilege” better. It took all of my patience not to scold them for showing disrespect to the man on the stage, who is infinitely more distinguished and respectable than they are. I realized that the five-year difference between me and those kids does matter – maybe I’m more uptight now? Hahaha.

Then again I’m not yet too old. Not too old to feel happy and giddy and proud, standing beside my friends and colleagues and marking another milestone in our lives, on UP's 100th year no less. Not too old to appreciate the immense support of our professors and mentors/”surrogate parents” who guided us and showed us by example how we could help society as environmental planners. Not too old to feel the love of family and friends who saw our professional lives unfold. Not too old to express our gratitude and honor by actually finishing what we started. And definitely not yet too old to be running across the road in high heels and formal wear because we were late for our own graduation! Yes, the tunganga brigade strikes again! Much too much merrymaking – not to mention long speeches – at the UP School of Urban and Regional Planning Recognition Program (which ended 10 minutes before the university graduation), and our insistence on walking from UP-SURP to the UP Ampitheater (most sustainable form of transport eh hehe) meant that thousands of other graduates were already seated when we arrived huffing and puffing, trying to hide behind students we didn’t know and melting under the unbearable heat of the summer sun. It didn’t help that those around us were nicely made up and calmly fanning themselves. Not a strand of carefully curled hair out of place!

But all’s well that ends well. We had a blast throughout. I fumbled only a little (hehe) with my sablay, we didn’t forget to take photos of the UP@100 sign, and I felt great singing UP Naming Mahal once again – fist in the air and singing the last two lines as loudly as I could. Never too old for that. :)

photos at http://larababeh.multiply.com/photos

Special thanks to Edison, EnPraxis partner and official photographer/PA. Di bale, when your time comes to graduate, there'll be a minimum of four cameras pointed at you ;)

Life is nothing but the occasional burst of laughter rising above the interminable wail of grief

The film Dedication is "about Henry, a misogynistic children's book author who is forced to work closely with a female illustrator instead of his long-time collaborator and only friend."

It was surprisingly pleasant. Hmm, it just now reminds me of Music and Lyrics in that girl broken by her teacher/lover meets a guy and works with him kind of way. Except 1) I honestly wasn't crazy about Music and Lyrics, 2) this is isn't all Drew Barrymore-y and it really isn't about the girl, and 3) Henry Roth isn't a washed out 80s bloke. He's just this neurotic guy who needs to pile up books on his chest while laying on the floor to keep himself sane. I guess I can relate better haha. Plus, Henry's got a cool, dead friend.

___________________

Henry: She deserves better than him.
Rudy Holt: Now you're talking.
Henry: Better than me, too.
Rudy Holt: Yeah, but she doesn't know that yet.

---

Henry: I've spent my whole life... wanting something... and doing my very best not to find it. Never even going near the places it might be... And suddenly, I've got the goddamn thing practically chained around my neck.
Lucy: What are you talking about?
Henry: You. You. You're the, you're the... You're, you're- you're the goddamn thing. Ahhh, uh. I mean... You're, you're. I can't describe you... uhh, I don't, I don't write that kind of shit, I write... You know, the people who write, who write the real books, the love books, and the poems, and even those stupid little fucking novels with the hunky assholes on the cover...
Lucy: Stop...
Henry: You know it? You know what I'm talking about? You know - you're like Princess shit! You know? Fairytales. You know what I'm saying? The million guys are after you and are blinded by your beauty kind of shit. Real big stuff. You know, that just - even, we got the dick that kidnaps you and sticks you in a cave and you're guarded by a five-headed dragon, you know and the tales of your plight are spread throughout the land and all the guys go and put on their shoes so they can see what's up and none of them have the balls to save her except for me. I would go through anything... for you. And still, there I was looking for a way not to see it. Anything. Money...
Lucy: You stupid idiot.
Henry: Yeah.

---

Lucy: Do you just genuinely dislike me, Henry?
Henry: A week ago, I didn't give a rat's ass about nebulas and now I can't get enough of them. Ok?
Lucy: Nebulae.
Henry: What?
Lucy: It's nebulae... not nebulas.
Henry: Ok, fine. I don't care about nebulas. You know accuse me of whatever you want, I'm probably guilty of it... contributing to global warming, and killing a squirrel once, and using the word retarded, and occasionally misinterpreted bigotry, but don't, don't... don't don't don't don't don't accuse me of not liking you. Ok?
Lucy: I understand.

---

Henry: I've never been good at finding things, I'm really good at losing things.

---

Henry: You'll be fine. We'll both be fine Rudy.
Rudy Holt: That's life Henry.
Henry: Yep.
Rudy Holt: You know what life is?
Henry: Life is a horrible little giggle in the midst of a forced death march towards hell.
Rudy Holt: No it isn't.
Henry: An interminable wail of grief...
Rudy Holt: No. Life is a single skip for joy.
Henry: I know.

summer song

Eternity
Robbie Williams


Close your eyes so you don't feel them
They don't need to see you cry
I can't promise I will heal you
But if you want to I will try

Sing this summer serenade
The past is done, we've been betrayed
It's true
Some might say the truth will out
But I believe without a doubt
In you

You were there for summer dreaming
And you gave me what I need
And I hope you find your freedom
For eternity
For eternity

Yesterday when we were walking
You talked about your mom and dad
What they did that made you happy
What they did that made you sad

We sat and watched the sun go down
Then picked a star before we lost
The moon
Youth is wasted on the young
Before you know it's come and gone
Too soon

You were there for summer dreaming
And you gave me what I need
And I hope you find your freedom
For eternity
For eternity
For eternity

Sing this summer serenade
The past is done, we've been betrayed
It's true
Youth is wasted on the young
Before you know it's come and gone
Too soon

You were there for summer dreaming

Can’t believe I’m blogging about this, seeing that there are so many more relevant things to talk about and I’m so busy.

I haven’t seen the episode yet and I’ve only read the reviews on the net (a lot of them not good), but I’ve got to say: Ramiele, why, why, WHY did you choose to sing the song that sealed Carrie Underwood’s fate as American Idol? Are you digging your own grave??

See, you DO NOT sing Heart’s Alone when even now people still remember it as Carrie’s most powerful, goosebump-worthy, true American Idol performance. No, no, no. Not even if you can do it better. Some people just have a stamp on certain songs, and Alone has Carrie’s name all over it.

Foolish, Ramiele.

You

Because Of You
Kelly Clarkson

I will not make the same mistakes that you did
I will not let myself
Cause my heart so much misery
I will not break the way you did,
You fell so hard
I've learned the hard way
To never let it get that far

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid

I lose my way
And it's not too long before you point it out
I cannot cry
Because I know that's weakness in your eyes
I'm forced to fake
A smile, a laugh everyday of my life
My heart can't possibly break
When it wasn't even whole to start with

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid

I watched you die
I heard you cry every night in your sleep
I was so young
You should have known better than to lean on me
You never thought of anyone else
You just saw your pain
And now I cry in the middle of the night
For the same damn thing

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I try my hardest just to forget everything
Because of you
I don't know how to let anyone else in
Because of you
I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty
Because of you
I am afraid

Because of you
Because of you

That said, I do know that the solution lies within me.

who's the devil?

I like hearing Mass at our church in the subdivision. Sure, the choir makes you want to scream in pain, and it can be very hot outside (always outside, because we're always late). The priest, Father Jun, is this flamboyant, motor-mouth man with gray hair and accents to rival Britney Spears' or a call center agent's. I swear. We used to wonder where he grew up. London? France? Texas? Then he spoke in his now famous sing-song Tagalog. Oh..kay. One Sunday he casually mentioned that he had studied all over Europe. A silent collective "aaaah" filled the church.

Father Jun is a fairly entertaining guy, albeit very talkative. He can speak so fast he says "bras and sisters" all the time (we've gotten tired of snickering). But then he mellows down when he wants to emphasize a point, and his voice reverberates throughout the halls in a shocking "LISTEN TO ME" way. His homilies are notoriously long.

But I like it. I like his homilies. I like Father Jun because, despite his semi-Liberace ways, he does a good job of explaining the Bible. He never takes the stories literally, and always takes time to let us digest the words and understand the context of the passages. He gives historical data, the times and places that made the events significant to the people back then, and discusses how they can be relevant to us today, if at all.

(Too often we assume and define things as they are without knowing their root. Believing in Jesus is not simple. The Christian religion rests on the Scripture. Words. Just words! But words that describe a life, a place and a time. I think it is crucial, in order to understand Jesus - or any person for that matter - to study the context within which his words were spoken, his actions taken. I tend to think the work of priests, ministers and masters of the Scriptures is quite tedious. They can’t just quote the Bible and say “it is so, so be it.” No, that would be completely irresponsible. The best theologians are the linguists, the historians, the ones who dig deep to understand the context, the environment. And if the rest of us are content that they do and we don’t, then we really are the blind followers that non-believers accuse us of being.)

About three weeks ago, Father Jun was talking about Jesus being tempted by the devil. He asked for a simple, “tagalog" (aka Espanol) translation of the word devil.

Demonyo? No.

Diablo?

Yes. He then explained where the word came from:

Devil = from the Latin diabolos.
Dia = through and through; across, from one end to the other (as in diameter).
Bolos = to throw across (root word of bola, ball).

(There you go, now we know where diabolical comes from.)

The devil then is one who throws across or apart. Causes a divide. Wreaks havoc by creating distance or, in a way, misunderstanding. Whoever or whatever disrupts peace and causes chaos is the devil’s work. And no, don’t think that the devil is a creature from your worst nightmare. I think “devil” is more of a concept rather than a horned fellow with bad teeth and a spiked tail. Devil, simply, is the opposite of peace: discord.

The priest also said the devil is the mother of all lies (or something like that). And it’s easy to be deceived by these lies. So beware of the messes created out of seeming righteousness or its defense. Be discerning.

---

I thought of that particular homily when I heard what Sec. Neri supposedly told Jun Lozada, that the president is "evil." Diabolical, indeed. Hahaha. Apologies if I have to place her in the same breath as Jesus.

---

Another etymological bit from that homily. The word repent is often associated with feeling or being sorry, remorseful, or even guilty because of some wrongdoing. And this is where, in the Bible as in our lives, we get lost in translation. The word rendered from the original text as the repent in English form is: metanoia (Greek) or Shuwb (Hebrew).

Meta = to change, to transcend, to move beyond
Noia = mind

Metanoia then means to change one’s mind. It is an act within oneself – decisive, definitive and empowering, rather than sorry, guilt-ridden, or embarrassed.

---

If there is anyone who I think has undergone metanoia, it might be Mr. Lozada. For all his tears and broken voice, I daresay he has made that transformation. I wonder when others will be as decisive or empowered as to truly repent. Because, as we realized long ago in this country of sinners, "I am sorry" just doesn't cut it.

financial freedom and such

The key is not to live within or below your means, but to expand your means and live fully as you wish.

booster shot

I was being a little vain and searched my name on Google (we all do that, admit it).

I found an article of mine, written almost a decade ago:

www.upm.edu.ph/manilakule/Webby_2k2/opinion/SMall_Price.htm

I can't help but smile. Young as I was, I actually had...opinions. Sometimes spot on, other times misplaced. But correctness doesn't matter much in retrospect - my Kule friends and I often laugh when we recall the things we'd written way back when. But I'm glad I had thoughts like these. Happy knowing I could believe with all my heart that my thoughts, the complex jumble in my head, actually had relevance. Happier that I had an avenue to express them.

There are moments when you feel truly, truly alive. Like you've been suddenly injected with with a potent dosage of life. Writing used to be that for me.

comfort in strangeness

A man spoke to me out of the blue at the coffee shop this morning.

Yes it is strange, at least for me, in this city. In other countries this isn’t so unusual, strangers talk to me all the time at coffee shops and restaurants…but in Manila, the only strangers who approach me are those looking for directions or wanting charity. I am a magnet for those I tell you. But strangers queuing for coffee? Unlikely.

I was peering at the food display; the server had just told me they didn’t serve cream cheese anymore and I can’t eat bagel without cream cheese! I haven’t been here for some time and I guess things have changed. Anyway, I stood there for a few minutes feeling lost.

“Try the bacon twist,” said a voice behind me, “it’s very light.” It was a guy in an orange shirt. I told him what was taking me so long, and a short conversation about bread ensued. He asked if I minded him ordering first. I said I didn’t, so he called Rian the server and ordered his usual drink. I finally ordered a croissant and coffee to go, then we both went our separate ways.

I was about to cross the street, but stopped. I backtracked and re-entered Starbucks. I asked for a plate and sat at one of the tables outside.

For some reason that short, meaningless conversation made me want to stay. Not for anything else, but just to sit with these strangers who, like me, were simply minding their own business.

I love these moments. Moments when I am in my own world, thinking, observing, noticing the minute details of everyday life. Mornings when the air is not so stale, and people are still smiling, Me in my own little bubble of thought, but sitting among others with whom I feel some strange affinity with. Like the man three tables down, holding a cigarette in one hand and a pen in the other, looking around one minute and scribbling something on his notebook the next (just like me, except I don’t smoke). Or the lady with the nice makeup, just sitting, staring out, sipping drip coffee. Or the guy in the orange shirt, texting and waiting for his officemates. Or the middle-aged expat who always sits near the door and reads business news. We share glances sometimes, then go back to what we were doing.

Being alone together. It's a comfortable feeling. For thirty minutes or so, we, complete strangers, share this space. For thirty minutes or so, we are kindred.

I was shaken out of my reverie by a woman in a halter dress and flowing hair. Then I remembered. The last time she was here, I heard her cursing loudly and thought she was in a heated argument with someone. When I looked up, there was no one with her, no one at all, but she was screaming anyway. For a moment I thought she would lash out and throw paper cups at me.

Here she was again. She took a used cup, faced the guard and shouted curses at him. “Ayan ka naman…” says the exasperated guard, as she continued to throw expletives.

I stood up, feeling my morning bubble bursting.

Off to work then. See you tomorrow.

Fin

And so it ends.

The final scene finds three friends talking to each other, ecstatic about a dream coming true, and bathed in the happy glow of love – both romantic and innocent, with the tiniest tinge of bittersweet.

That’s Dawson’s Creek for you. I remember the time I watched the finale on primetime tv. I hadn’t realized that it was actually the last episode; I had been spending the previous months ignoring the show because I thought it was going nowhere.

Watching entire series again on DVD, I knew I was right. The show didn’t seem to be going anywhere in its final season. The love triangle was still there, but wrung dry after almost six years. Some characters had stagnated, particularly Dawson. Kevin Williamson must have been tearing his hair out at how Dawson was progressively deteriorating. I mean the show was semi-autobiographical, after all. If he had stayed on instead of leaving after Season 2, would that have made any difference? Or is Kevin simply as boring as Dawson? Ah well, as Pacey always said, the issue is moot.

And Eddie…what a cardboard cutout. Bland to the point of puking.

The last two seasons really made no sense in terms of character and story development, except maybe for the sporadic sparks between Pacey and Joey - too few and far between to really keep us riveted for more than two episodes at a time - and Michelle Williams’ noteworthy performance. I like that girl. The rest was just fluff, fillers for the finale, which would have been more beautiful if the show actually ran until the year when the ending was set. I guess the producers had to settle for a fast forward, due mainly to the plummeting ratings. Too bad. DC could have done a “Friends” and lasted a decade. Friends had that sustainability factor that not a lot of shows have. I guess because they also dealt with stories that did not completely revolve around the characters or one single running theme all the time? They just went the flow, kind of the same way Seinfeld (the ultimate “sitcom about nothing”) did.

This was difficult to do with DC. DC was originally very focused; expansion meant veering away from the essence of the show: the coming of age of a boy and a girl sharing a bed in a small town, and the best friend who burst their bubble. Making it more complicated than it already would spell disaster, if done improperly. And that’s exactly what happened in Seasons 5 and 6. Too many new senseless subplots and secondary characters that had no real impact on the main cast. Audrey would have been enough, but no, they had to throw in Charlie and Eddie and CJ and other forgettables who ended up sleeping with half the cast. And yeah, their “it’s a small world after all” bit was getting too bizarre. Boston is way too big for 10 people to be playing sexual musical chairs all the time. Get a life, people.

It was so inconsistent, too. One episode it was Eddie, the next it was Pacey, the next it was Eddie again. Where was the protracted tension that made us fall in love, where was the sincerity? And why was Pacey making out with a chick barely three months after his devastating split with Joey? After two years of “True Love”, how can the writers tease us with anything less? Everyone was so out of character, it was as if the show had a mass layoff and the old writers were replaced by overexcited interns.

On the other hand, not deviating meant that DC would be trapped in its own story. So I guess they were just trying to evolve. But the attempts to add more layers to that story proved hugely unsuccessful, largely because the writers seemed to get lost and forget what they were writing about in the first place.

The only way out was to search through all the muck that had piled up, and go back to the heart of it all, the very reason Kevin Williamson created the show. It had to take Kevin himself to do that, too. Glad he went back to write the final two episodes.

That said, I love Dawson's Creek, flaws and all. I'm happy for all of them (sure, even Dawson). When I finally turned off my DVD player at 3am the other night, I was still crying. The following day I felt an unexpected void. Like something had been snatched away so suddenly. All over again I had that "it's finally ended, what now?" feeling. Even though I knew the end was coming and what exactly happened - down to the last spoken words - there I was the morning after, feeling somewhat lost, but also relieved. Glad it was over, but wanting it to continue. The answer was there, but so were questions. Wondering, but ultimately at peace.

But I guess that’s what stories do. No matter how many times you see, read or hear them, the experience never fully wears out. It takes you somewhere, every time. It brings you something new every time. An added meaning, a new realization, another snippet of life relived in memory.

That feeling stays, sometimes filling you up, other times receding to the subconscious. But it’s always there.

And thanks to bootleg DVDs, it can always be revisited. ;)

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Speaking of Michelle Williams...may Heath Ledger rest in peace. So sad. :( Parang kelan lang yung 10 Things...hay.