StorieSpoonFuLs

Thinking about Routes

2011-08-16T10:29:00.000-07:00

I often ask myself, wouldn't it be easier if God just whispered to you what your personal legend is (borrowing a term from Coehlo) Just a teensy tiny hint. Or He can go visual, like if I'm walking outside and He lets me see a light shining on a word or phrase. Anything!

But then again, where's the challenge in that? What of free will, or objective thinking? I guess like most people, there's a struggle between following one's heart or mind. Follow your heart, what does that even mean? So I guess by dropping the personal legend-whispering, we are taught to carve our own journeys and choose our own paths? Sounds cliche but it's true.

Our lives, if we try looking ahead, is made of of forked roads. We can go this way or that. We can walk in circles, or some choose to just stop and rest altogether by not budging any more.

My take is that sometimes though, He lets us see this road map of zigs and zags so that we can decide for ourselves which is our way to "the destination".

Until then, the map is a senseless route and we'd get lost over and over.

Yes, I'm looking at my road map now and I'm getting nervous. But with faith, I know He's got it covered.

Learn Something New. That's it, pansit!

2011-04-05T10:11:00.000-07:00

Finally!!!! Can't believe I AM BLOGGING...again. It's been a while. From the start of 2011 up to the end of March, it was non-stop school and work for me. Overflowing readings and papers, classes to attend, scripts to voice, deadlines to beat, shoots to supervise, segments to write. Not that I'm complaining. He. :)

So anyway, since it's sembreak (YEEEY!) and I've been going through a withdrawal (I wake up at 4 am every morning, my body's way of saying it's not used to a, uhm, less action-packed schedule), I'm thankful for this time I'm able to think over things in my life...naks! In short, nagmuni-muni (what is this word's etymology anyway?)

Well, because I just want to let this out. And you know, something I can glance at when I'll be confused or depressed in the future (not looking forward to that though! haha). I just want to put on record that despite everything I've gone through since college and joining the real world, I am finally able to say that I am happy. Not WHOOPEE happy, or tearful BOO-HOOO happy. But just simply and wonderfully happy. I realized the best thing that I did in my adult life was going back to school. Because once you start working and you're working really hard, sometimes it gets mechanical and you kind of forget the point of everything: which is to learn something new. When do people get burned out or bored at work? It's because they forgot to be curious of the littlest things and getting something out of every experience. And school (masteral) taught me that. I'm taking up Masteral in Communication, the same thing I do for work, but I'm taking up lots of classes the likes of which I never heard in college like New Media, Organizational Communication, Media Studies, Development Comm. Some people will find this dorky, but, well...I am...essentially a dork. Proud to be one!

How did I go through a hell semester with three subjects (one of them's the toughest one Communication Research, which people normally take last and with just that one subject), and lots of projects to finish for work? I live by this principle -- Philosopher Vernon Howard (1918- 1992) said this:

"Always walk through life as if you have something new to learn and you will."

It's simple, but for me, that says a lot. I can live by this statement all my life and I know I'll be fine. I'll get through life okay :)

You know when you have that feeling, that instinct that you are where you are supposed to be? That's what I'm feeling now. All the choices, decisions, both good and bad, that I made before -- all led me to where I am now, and I'm just so thankful to Him, my good friend God, my family gosh my family who really supports me (yeah I know I'm a lucky gal), my boyfriend and bestfriend Sam and all my friends. I am just grateful. I'm not preachy religious type, but yes, everything I have now, it all belongs to Him. It is in His greatness that I live.

One time, my boyfriend, who was going through a lot at work, told me he thinks of me every time he's on the verge of exploding. He told me if I get through all the things I do, why can't he? My heart almost melted. I almost cried :(

I guess every time I hear it from him and my friends that they draw strength from me, that toughens me up. I draw strength from them as well. It's a a circle of bonding and strength that has no end.

Some people might judge me and say why I'm not getting married yet, you know having kids and all that jazz, how can I possibly explain to them all these? I am still exploring life, how can I give this up to give life to another human being? It's not that I don't want that, I just know it's not yet the time. No hurries!

Photo from: http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=&section=&q=life#/d1562bu

Baguio Booking (opopop!... i don't mean the gay term "booking"!)

2011-02-17T09:57:00.000-08:00

Went to Mt. Cloud BookShop in Baguio. I realized how much I love books, especially fiction and someday, I want to have a book shop of my own. But I like the romance and mystery behind second hand books, then perhaps, spicing up the experience with tea, coffee and pastries. Hmm.... just the thought of it makes me happy :)

Mt. Cloud was pretty small but the selection of books was interesting. I love that it had zines and graphic novels drawn and printed (xeroxed!) by local artists. Prices of regular books (meaning books with publishers) are a bit steep though, not much difference from Manila. Still, the cold weather, combined with the warm cozy feel of the store, plus coffee from a nearby Cafe made the experience definitely worth it. I could've stayed for hours in Mt. Cloud, but we had more places to visit in our itinerary. But I will definitely be back!

Mt. Cloud is located at Casa Vallejo, at Hill Station in Baguio City.

Isang Taon.

2011-01-09T07:49:00.000-08:00

Dear Tiudy,

Uy kamusta ka na? Grabe isang taon ka nang hindi nagpakita! Wish ko lang ganun lang kadali yun eh no. Parang facebook o text message lang sa isang kaibigan—“hoy isang taon ka nang hindi nagpakita sa’min!” sabay magre-reply ka, “busy lang, promise dinner tayo soon, kelan kayo puwede?”

picture 'to namin nila diaz, na naka-display sa closet ni tiuds. hanggang ngayon, ganoon pa rin ang ayos ng kuwarto niya.

Naka-ilang eksena na rin akong ganito. Nung minsan, newly renovated ang bahay, ang instinct ko agad hanapin ang pangalan mo sa phonebook ko at yayain ka. O kaya sa umaga, pagliko ko sa kanto sa may sakayan ng FX, hanapin yung babaeng maputi na naka-China Bank uniform, kumaway at sumigaw ng “Tiudy!!!” Recently, nung gumagawa ako ng listahan ng mga kaibigan kong bibigyan ko ng Christmas gift, naluha na lang ako bigla kasi ikaw agad yung naisip kong isulat. Oo, alam ko, magastos ka regaluhan kasi dapat bongga lagi gift ko sayo, pero mas pipiliin ko pang magsayang ng libo-libo, kahit milyon-milyon ngayon, mabuhay ka lang, makasama ka keysa makatipid ngayong Pasko sa mga kaibigan (kasi naman sa kuripot kong ‘to, P50-P100 lang ang budget ko sa mga friends at ang iba pa nga hindi ko niregaluhan).

Isang taon. Hindi ako makapaniwala na isang taon lang ang nakakaraan, bandang alas-kuwatro ng umaga, nag-flat yung life line at binawian ka na ng buhay. At ilang oras bago noon, mga bago mag-12 midnight, sinabi ng duktor sa magulang mo na 'yun na, wala nang pagasa. Kasi nung bago nung oras na yun, umaasa pa kaming lahat eh. Ayan tuloy naiiyak nako. Sorry na. Alam ko ayaw mo na'ko umiyak, at masaya ka na diyan. Masakit lang kasi talaga mawalan ng kaibigan at alam mo ‘to, na kaunti lang ang mga kaibigan ko. At kahit na nawalan ako ng oras sa'yo dati at nagkaroon tayo ng mga pagkakatampo, ikaw pa din at wala nang iba yung number one na kaibigan ko. Sa'yo ko lang kaya magpaka-totoo. Sayo ko lang kinuwento lahat-lahat, tungkol sa pamilya ko, sa lovelife ko, insecurities, sa mga pangarap, mga kagagahan ko. Ikaw lang yung talagang nakakaintindi sa'kin.

Minsan, pag nalulungkot ako, inaalala ko yung boses mo pag tumatawag ka sa bahay, habang may nginunguya ka pa, tas bubungangaan mo muna ko, sabay kakamustahin. O yung pang-aasar mo sa’kin ng mataba o pikon. Namimiss ko 'yun eh. Lahat yun. Pati yung pang-iisa mo sakin sa taxi fare at sa pamasahe. Tiudy, tingin ko hindi ako makaka-recover ever sa pagkawala mo. I don’t think I ever will. Minsan lang may dumating na ganoong klaseng friendship sa buhay ng tao…at hindi yun napapalitan o nahihilom ng panahon, ng tao, lugar, bagay, o ala-ala. Thankful pa din ako na nakilala kita at nakasama ng maraming taon. Okay na ‘yun. Nagpapasalamat na’ko ng sobra-sobra kay Lord nu’n.

Salamat Tiudy sa pagiging kaibigan sa akin…alam ko wala tayo masyadong common traits pero for some reason, hinatak mo’ko nung grade 3 at muli, noong 1^st year highschool, at simula noon, naging bestfriends na tayo. Dati-rati nagiisip pako, diba dapat ang magkaibigan magkapareho ng ugali, ng hilig? Pero hindi pala. Mahal mo 'yun tao despite everything, kaibigan mo siya at tinatanggap ang lahat-lahat sa kanya. 'Period. 'Yan ang natutunan ko sayo, kaya salamat talaga…Grabe isang taon na Tiuds, may konsepto ba ng taon, minuto, segundo diyan? Tingin ko wala, feeling ko endless yung oras…. Oh well malalaman ko din kapag panahon ko na, 'pag panahon na din natin magkita’t maglunch at icecream diyan sa Taas at chumika nang chumika nang walang sawa…

-Alina

Holiday Hung- Over

2011-01-04T12:02:00.000-08:00

I can't sleep. This could not be insomnia. More like a holiday hang-over. I've washed down the tequila, drained my savings out of ticking off my Christmas list and bid my Big Bang Theory late night marathons goodbye.

Instead of staring on the ceiling, imagining sheep, I decided to just go ahead and blog. Blog with no plans. Blog without thinking of a theme or a topic. Just random rambling. 'Cause thinking too much keeps away the fun in blogging right?

So what the hell am I thinking now? Well I'm kinda hyper, even in my sleepless state (drank too much coffee perhaps). I'm thinking of how I'm gonna get through a whole day of video editing later. Thinking of turning one year older this year (damn you calendars and new year) and what I'm gonna do about it. I thought about making a new year's resolution list but decided against it. I mean what's the point, what's the fun in that? That's why I never get to fill up my planners, 'cause I hate to plan.

I'm thinking about getting more freelance work to beef up my savings. Ahh! Thought of a solution, what if I get a TV job that shoots only during weekends? Like a live broadcast. Perhaps just one or two meetings on weekdays, but how do I find a raket like that? Buying a video camera and have it rented out PLUS I get to make my videos and films for free! I'm thinking of drinking a sleeping pill but I get too groggy and I almost fall down my bed. How I've got only three days to lose weight for my friend's wedding, good luck with that! My dress is aqua blue with rhinestones, real pretty. I'm excited to see my friend after....around four years I guess? I must have a pimple now, I mean it's 5 am and I'm still wide awake, blogging and Facebooking. I need to rest!

But thoughts are flowing like crazy this morning and I haven't eaten breakfast yet!

The Sweetness of Doing Nothing

2010-11-05T17:08:00.000-07:00

I'm supposed to be finishing a segment for work, but here I am, trying to delay the stress, facebooking, reading blogs, enjoying the sweetness of doing nothing before plunging into work stuff again.

It's kinda fun.

And now, I'm thinking, if I'm not here right now in my room, if I'm not obliged to work and finish graduate school to have an edge, where would I rather be? What would I rather do?

I imagine myself in a faraway place, in a beach in another country. Not the loud beach type, but a kind of tranquil, isolated one. With a nearby local village market, where everything was foreign, and food was fresh and exotic. I'd go home to a small hut by the beachfront and cook my own meals. I'd be reading books the whole day, then ride a bicycle to my graduate school a few kilometers away, where I also teach. I'd be taking up a cool course, not lucrative, but something that I've always wanted to take-- community development, perhaps women and development. At the same time, I am writing a journal about the status of women in the country and how they have managed to rise beyond being second-class citizens. People think of me as strange, but nevertheless liked me for my warmth and compassion.

On weekends, I'd be dipping my feet on the sand while reading literature-- a Murakami or Gaiman book perhaps. Or probbably, Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar or one of Isabel Allende's magic realist books.

A dark guy will approach me and hand over a letter. It will be from my Mom, wanting to know if I'm coming home for Christmas.

Oops, time's up! I'm back in my room and I'm in front of my Mac Book. Back to work. Back to my real life, which is not so bad after all.

Behind the Byline of Preview's Society Editor

2010-10-30T19:22:00.000-07:00

Friends! Don't miss the latest episode of Behind the Bylines featuring the number one fashion magazine Preview's Society Editor Raymond Gutierrez.

Yep, Raymond or "Mond" to his close friends has been the Society Editor of Preview for more than a year. A member of an elite showbiz family, Raymond is surprisingly humble, funny, down-to-earth and most of all, real.

"It makes me grounded because as I have said, it's an environment I'm not used to. I have a boss. I have an office. It's a different ball game, I have a deadline I have to rush, I have to do it now. I have no other choice. It's new and fresh and kinda makes me feel alive, cause I've been used to the whole showbiz world my whole life...."

We know Raymond as a TV host in GMA 7, formerly in Pinoy Idol and currently, in Party Pilipinas and Showbiz Central. Most of the time, he does the interviewing, but tables are turned when Behind the Bylines gets up close and personal.

See Raymond as he juggles a tight schedule shooting a society page with Maggie Wilson and hurries to go to the airport for an event coverage in Cebu. And...uh-oh, what happens when it's drizzling in an outdoor shoot? Will the picture still be fab?

Find out on November 2, Tuesday at 9 pm. Only on Star World.

***Picture courtesy of Raymond Gutierrez.

Kathrina Tiu dy appears to be offline.

2010-10-23T07:52:00.000-07:00

Kathrina Tiu Dy appears to be offline. In yahoo messenger, that is.

It's been almost 10 months since my bestfriend Kat Tiudy passed away.

I dread the day January 10th of next year comes, cause that will be the first year anniversary of her death.

Sometimes I forget she's gone. Like one good thing happens, and I immediately think, "hey I'm going to text Tiudy" or recently, when our house was newly renovated, she was the first one I thought of, who I'd love to invite. I said, "Wait 'til Tiuds sees this" then I remember. And all the memories of her death flood back.

Her facebook page is still online, with a lot of her friends and relatives posting and saying hi, tagging photos of her. I open my facebook account and there on the right side, it says "Say hi to Kathrina". I like that her facebook page is still there, it's soothing to think she's still here with us in space, even if it means cyber space. I love to see her smile on her profile picture, because I like imagining her happy in heaven and I know she is. I haven't erased her on yahoo, and her name's still on my phone book. It's not that I'm not yet over her death. I just like holding on to her face, her laugh, her jokes, her life. I don't like my Tiuds to be forgotten...ever.

For the past months, her facebook page is where we all meet -- our batchmates and her different circles of friends and we find comfort in her and in each other.

Here are some of interesting posts on her wall:

Nina Kristine Ona Dello hi tiudy.. i dreamt of you last night... please guide and pray for us. love you!! =)

Pau Perez mama kat =) malapit na christmas namimiss na nila tinitinda mong bags =) mwah love u

Dyan Cruz katchu... guide me naman o...

Kb Contreras i miss u tiuds.... I need you ngaun... Paki sbe nmn sa bossing natn jan sa taas... Alalay sakin ng konti... Thanks tiuds...

Miguel Vargas Ate Kat alam mo naman malaki natulong mo sakin, maraming salamat.. Naka Close rin ako isa ulit wit Ate April.. I hope ur doin great dyaan sa Heaven=)

Ems Gonzales ei tiudy! nakita kita sa "keep in touch" ko. musta ka naman dyan, ganda? balitaan mo ko ha. mwah!;p

Corinne Javier tiubby....akala ko ok na ko. pero kanina, nung nadaanan namin yung harbour square, soooobrang nalungkot ako at pinigil kong maiyak, tinext ko nga agad si karl. dun tayo huling nag gimik na lahat. i soooooo miss you :(

Great posts right? Tiudy is our angel in heaven and a lot of times when I pray to God, I talk to her afterwards. I've started a Dear Tiudy diary, where I tell her everything, my deepest fears, my high moments, and just make small talk. I'd like to imagine she's just listening, laughing her heart out, probably saying "Para kang tanga Alina."

Recently, I prayed and I told her 'Tiuds, miss na kita, paramdam ka naman." And she did, that same night. Again, nagpakita siya sa dreams ko. In the dream, we were wearing our St. Paul uniforms and we were shopping in a huge grocery (we always are shopping in our dreams, the last time we were in a huge accessories department store). I was talking to her and we were catching up. I don't remember exactly what we were talking about but in the dream, she told me I was the only one who could see her. So the other shoppers and grocery staff were looking at me weirdly. We bought a lot of things, mostly junkfood -- potato chips and for some reason, cereals!? I don't know why!

Today, I opened my yahoo messenger and I saw her name on my friends' list.

I sent her a message: "Miss na kita sobra."

It said:

Kathrina Tiudy appears to be offline.

He or she will receive your messages after signing in.

But of course yahoo's wrong. She doesn't have to sign in to know.

Sisters

2010-10-21T03:35:00.000-07:00

My sister and I are as different as chalk and cheese.

She's boyish and sporty, I'm kind of allergic to sports and girly.

She's a Food Technology degree holder and a resident doctor, while I'm a Film graduate taking up my masteral in communication.

One of her hobbies is teasing me about my clothes and bags and I often pester her to start wearing a dress or at least to put her legs to good use since she's long-legged.

I'm bookish, while she's not the academic type.

She's tall and morena, I'm short and fair-skinned.

I realize now we have absolutely nothing in common. But despite all these, it amazes that we are still very close.

I remember I cried when she was about to move to an apartment in QC for her studies. I missed her so much that time. I got used to talking to her every night, just pouring my heart out and updating her on tsismis and the latest about my friends.

Some people don't know that my sister has a high IQ, higher than most people. She rarely studies because she kind of absorbs everything during lectures. She graduated at the top of her class in FEU Medicine. That she's a loving daughter and sister. That when we were kids, she had always protected me. Always the big sister who looks out for her li'l sis.

I'm very proud of my Ate Mayette.

My Ultimate Crush: Paolo Soler

2010-10-19T11:35:00.000-07:00

Pre-Ondoy, I used to have this small magazine picture of Paolo Soler pasted on my cabinet. He is my ultimate Filipino celebrity crush.

I think I started fantasizing about him since his Coca-cola commercial way back in....shit, I don't remember when. I must have been in grade school. Hehe! (I wish there's a Youtube copy of this commercial, wala eh.)

He had shorter hair then. But now it's long and curly...I like! He's such a hunk, this Paolo guy. I heard he's the president of a surfing academy now, which means he has a great tan and a hot body (a long sigh...)

I've been around in showbiz circles for the past years because of my job, but sadly, I haven't met him personally yet. Kelan kaya? Friends, if you know him, introduce me please!

I'm not really into sports but for this guy, really, I'd risk drowning in the deep blue sea...:-)

Have That Sassy Solitary Style

2010-10-11T10:22:00.000-07:00

(published in wmn.ph, QTV Channel 11's online community; click on this link to read article in the site)

You’re never lonely when you can have fun alone.

By Maria Alina R. Co

Remember Bridget Jones’ Diary and the all too unforgettable scene when Bridget spends the night home and sings “All by Myself"? That scene was hilarious, right?

But given a different context (she was, after all, depressed), is it really that unpleasant to be “all by yourself?"

Why are some people agitated when they’re alone?

Alone is not the same as being lonely.

American author Henry David Thoreau said everything pretty much in a nutshell: “I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude."

Based from experience, spending alone time is actually healthy and beneficial.

Sounds cliche, but it’s the perfect time for you to get to know yourself better. Whenever I have to make that crucial decision, instead of drinking with friends, why not find some “me" time to think, reflect, refresh and rejuvenate? Especially for us female urbanites, city stress can wear us down. Spending “alone" time doesn’t have to be as expensive as globe-trotting, ala-Eat, Pray, Love.

Travel alone to a new place
Have you watched Under the Tuscan Sun? Try reading Ann Tyler’s novel Back When We Were Grownups. Both women traveled to a foreign place to find themselves. So why don’t you head of town, with that small backpack and a favorite book or two? Being a stranger in a foreign land can help you get to know yourself better.

Soul-search in a hotel
If you’re not up and ready to go out of town, book a hotel room, and bring your laptop or notebook. It’s time to relish a spic and span room and pamper your self with hotel amenities. Pick a unit that has a veranda overlooking the city. Believe me, the view works wonders. Then face your laptop or poise your pen on that blank paper and write away. You’ll be surprised at the thoughts that pour out when you’re just alone.

Feel spectacular after a soup and spa
After a grueling day at work, just let loose. A full body massage at Wensha Spa only costs P680.00, inclusive of food and drinks. Their specialty is the shabu-shabu. I don’t know about you, but a cup of steaming soup instantly takes away the blues-all the time.

Try a new hobby/sport
Sometimes routine work and school can get you down. I have a lot of friends who have great jobs but suddenly find themselves burned out. But I’ve also learned that pursuing a new hobby can save your job. A friend from a multinational bank was already bent on resigning, when she found passion for running. Exercise took away the boredom of an 8-5 desk job. I myself was at the brink of resigning from a TV Network as a supervisor (without a new job replacement) when I joined a voice-acting/dubbing workshop. I met new friends and I found new joy in my otherwise ho-hum job.

There are a lot of hobbies you can pursue like blogging, photography, video editing, cooking, etc.

So despite your hectic schedule, try to find some “alone time". It’s fun and refreshing to be alone, every now and then. And you bounce back better than ever to interact and face other people and life, basically.

A Walk in the Neighborhood

2010-10-03T04:19:00.000-07:00

It's been some time since I've walked around the neighborhood and had the time and presence of mind to absorb and breathe things in.

Of course, day in and day out in an 8- 5 job, I'd walk a good 10 minute-sprint from our house to the jeep/FX terminal. But because I am always, ALWAYS, running late, I barely have time to look around and observe.

For fear of exposing where I exactly live, let's just say I live in lower grounds of Pasig, in a middle class neighborhood. Unlike private subdivisions, there are no guards that check the stream of vehicles and residents coming in. Any person is as free as a stray dog or a mother hen to stroll the streets for a leisurely walk or any other purpose.

Today, my mom and I walk towards a nearby mall for just a bit of exercise and maybe, some shopping on the side. Along the way, I keep warning my mom of the dog poo on the street, as that definitely would have ruined our chances of being allowed into the mall.

Our village's center is called a "kanto", a commercial place with a palengke, fruit stands, school supplies shop, parlors, a cloth alteration shop, some convenient stores, a bakery, an internet shop, lots of e-load stations, fish ball stands, a mobile mami tayo, selling hot noodle soup for just ten bucks -- everything a modern-day living Filipino needs to thrive and survive.

Our kanto is the perfect epitome of the backward way a Filipino lives. Cars and vehicles double-parked on all sides, sidewalks supposedly for passersby on foot like us occupied and blocked by vendors of DVDs, fish, sandals and other assortment of odds and ends. A nearby tricycle terminal with overworked (and some over-drugged) drivers causes me to be cautious and nervous, not for me but for my mom. You can be too careful, but when you're not on a side walk, a tricycle, a motor or a car can just zoom by and hurt you.

I hold my mom's hands firmly, guiding her carefully through the zig and zag of our market. For her, it's a jungle, an obstacle course with the bumps on the road, the man hole, the cracks on the floor where there is dark murky water, the smelly dirty side walks moistened by the friendly neighborhood butcher who throws a pail of reddish bloody water again and again.

Our kanto is a melting pot of Filipino masa -- the pineapple vendor rumored to be a former ex-con, three gay parloristas, with blond hair streaked with white, betraying their age, hungrily watching out for the neigborhood hunks, who are also hoodlums just fresh from a basketball game, the resident loony called Jimbo, who was a former drug addict, infamously rumored to have drugged himself to insanity. Everyone has had a chance encounter with Jimbo with his incessant, "Miss, miss, pengeng piso." And of course, the sad mothers with their swollen bellies and their little tykes wrapped around their arms and even their legs, bawling for attention and some twenty pesos to buy some tsitsiria and a bottle of coca cola.

We turn at the corner-- my mother and I-- and buy some sweet lanzones and bananas. The policeman winks at me and offers to hold the bags I was carrying so that my hand can be free to pick soft lanzones among the pile. The vendor narrates an amusing anecdote about these two elderly women who asks for two lanzones to check if they're sweet... "Sabi nung ale, isa pa nga kumuha pa ng dalawa, tapos dalawa pa 'di tig-apat na sila. Hindi pa rin nakuntento, kumuha pa ng tigalawa." The policeman exposes a toothy grin. "Naknamputa, bumili nga, one-fourth lang ang binili, sabi ko naisahan ako nitong dalawang to ha!" At this point, the policeman chuckles loudly. I smile back at them to show I was also amused.

As we step inside the mall, an air-conditioned, brightly-lit market, filled with stores, boutiques, tiangges, food booths and restaurants, I feel a mixture of relief and sadness. I don't understand why, but for some reason, looking at all that circus of a mall, with the neon signs, 50% discounts, arcades, a girl belting out a Sarah Geronimo in a videoke booth, french fries, long lines in the Lotto stand, and the song and dance show at the recreational stage area, I suddenly feel confused. It seems fake, even artificial, and the raw albeit dangerous kanto seemed more real and genuine to me.

My mom buys a cork board and a discounted paperback novel. I nudge her arm, "Ma, tara lakad tayo ulit sa labas."

More than 5 years, But Still Head over Heels

2010-09-25T11:02:00.000-07:00

I remember my Photography professor shared an amusing and a bit mushy anecdote about how he realized, "This is it, I'm not only in love, but I deeply, wholly love this girl..she's the one." For my professor, it was all thanks to onions.

He was chopping onions to cook dinner for his girlfriend, admitting he was trying to impress this girl even though he had never cooked all his life. While chopping religiously, his eyes began to water. It didn't take long for his vision to blur as one tear followed after another. My professor began to sniff. While rubbing his eyes, his girlfriend gently removed his hand and dabbed a handkerchief to wipe his tears. The girl whispered, giggling, "Tahan na." It was then, at that moment, he knew this girl was the one he'd love for the rest of his life.

I never forgot that story. More than amused, I was touched. When you realize you are truly in love, it's always not in a grandiose, obvious way. No candle-lit dinners and parading under the stars. No dancing on a rooftop and a room full of roses. Or an orchestra playing your favorite song while you dine in fancy restaurant. I've always believed in those kinds of moments -- small ones that are unexpected, understated and yet, magical. Trust me, I'm not a hopeless romantic, but a realistic, keep-my-feet-on-the-ground kind of girl.

For me, it happened one night in 2009 during the U.P. Fair. Every year, my boyfriend and I made it a point to attend the fair, even just for one day. That week, I was suffering a recurring back ache due to so much stress at work. But to hell with my back ache, nothing could stop me from going! There's the sunken garden grass to lie on anyway. But two bands into the fair, my back ached so much I could even feel the throb when I'm lying down or leaning on Sam's back. Sam wanted to go to the hospital, but I insisted just a bed rest will do.

That night, I slept over at his house that was near UP. My back ache was far from leaving me alone. It was too painful I had to stifle my cries -- "Hindi ko to kaya." Sam lied down beside me and massaged my back, using cantor oil to relieve the pain. His mouth on my ear, he shushed me, whispering over and over, "I'm just here, baby." He massaged and soothed me for hours until finally, the pain was gone and I fell asleep.

I was blinded and numbed by so much pain that night. But there was that short moment, a fraction of a minute, that I saw myself with him for the rest of my life.

Earlier today, Sam and I went to the mall to watch a movie, shop, and eat. I'm not as conscious as before of how I acted when I'm with him. But mostly, I remember feeling happy. And the details I often forget. Today, Sam said something amusing:

Sam: "Bakit ganito tayo no?"

Alina: "Paanong ganito? Pano ba tayo?"

Sam: "Wala, ang sweet pa rin natin, para tayong bagong magsyota."

I don't know for others who are in a five-year relationship, but Sam actually has a point. A good, happy point. Again, at that moment, I felt the hair at the nape of my neck tingle, and my chest filled with....I don't know, something like air, with a hundred butterfly wings flapping.

It's amazing how we've been together for more than five years, but we're still head over heels.

To the love of my life Sam (you might never read this as you never read my blog (I know how much you dislike blogs), but I just want to put on record...that I love you so much. Never doubt that.

Watch Behind the Bylines on Star World

2010-09-19T11:17:00.000-07:00

Know what goes on behind the scenes in the number one fashion magazine in the Philippines! A reality show, BTBL features a day in a life of a Preview magazine editor to give you a taste of what working on the monthly gloss is really like.

Behind the Bylines Opening Credits/OBB (this will be revised soon to include Daryl Chang, Liz Uy and Raymond Gutierrez)

Behind the Bylines is the first ever local show based in the Philippines, produced by Fox International. Catch Behind the Bylines only on Star World, Tuesdays, at 8: 50 PM, every 2nd and 4th week of the month.

Don't miss the quirky episodes airing this October featuring Manila's finest stylista Daryl Chang!

Behind the Bylines Credits:

Head of Programming:

JOON LEE

Channel Head (Star World):

Eddy Tan

Territory Director:

JUDE TURCUATO

Marketing Manager for Entertainment:

CHARO ESPEDIDO

Producers:

RAIN BALARES

ALINA CO

Director of Photography:

ADJANI ARUMPAC

Designer:

ANDRE MEDINA

Post- Production Editor:

ALAN NONES

Cameraman:

RYAN VERGEL DE DIOS

PREVIEW:

Editor-in Chief:

PAULINE SUACO-JUAN

Creative Director:

VINCE UY

Editorial Assistant, Special Projects:

ELOISE ALBA

Deputy Art Director, Special Projects:

EUGENE DAVID

THE VOICE LIFE

2010-09-05T11:39:00.000-07:00

When I started imitating commercials (especially taglines) when I was seven or maybe eight years old, my mom eagerly predicted: my daughter's going to be a news reporter or broadcaster some day.

But then, several years of acting in plays and joining declamations later, I found that speaking in public made me nervous! Never mind the plays, I was never a nervous performer (I had the knack of blocking the audience out when I performed. I also had a band in college), but addressing an audience was altogether a different thing,

So yeah, several years later, my mom found that her oracle was not the best one.

Instead of taking up Broadcasting, I got lost into and fell in love with Film and Audio-Visual Production, which is more of behind-the-scenes.

After graduation and years of working, I never knew my hobby as a child of faking accents and repeating commercial taglines would resurface. Until I found I can do voice-overs.

I guess I owe it to making plugs and observing professional VO talents during my first job. I liked imitating them for fun. Eventually, when our talent could not make it, while I did have to beat a deadline, I had no choice but to do a dummy. Kind of like a voice guide.

Until a client (a sponsor) asked our team to do a TVC. But they can't afford to pay for a VO talent. The client was a well-known motel. My co-Producer asked our superior if my voice will do. He said, well, let's see.

Fortunately, my voice-over passed. Credit it to a "bedroom voice". Hehe!

I eventually forgot about that. But my interest came back when an office mate told me of a VOICE ACTING WORKSHOP, called VoiceWorx in Creativoices Productions.

I enrolled. Though the tuition caused me almost all of my savings, I can say that it was all worth it.

I have since earned back the tuition...and more.

Today, I have gained the confidence that I need to be a good voice over for commercials. I enjoy doing voice overs so much! I feel challenged by every word, pause, every intonation, breath and every syllable.

When I voice, I'm just playing. I like expressing myself through my voice and hearing it on TV or the radio.

Without my hobby as a child, encouragement from former officemates and Creativoices, I wouldn't have done it.

But it can never be my full-time job. Voice over always has to be a part-time job, that I learned in VoiceWorx.

And yes, I guess it helps a lot that whenever I voice, I get to be an eight-year old all over again.

Maria Alina Co is currently a voice-over talent of Knowledge Channel and Star World Philippines. She also does freelance voice work for other companies.

The Invisible Sisters of Manila

2010-06-07T06:39:00.000-07:00

Word polaroids by Maria Alina Co

Blue, pink, yellow, and green splashed my eyes. The monobloc table-turned merchandising display setup at the Lopez Memorial Museum was abloom with crocheted bags and wallets of various colors and designs. Body bags were at the left side, some with striped patterns, embellished with a flower accessory or two. Two women were rearranging stacks of pouches of all shapes and sizes. A black, shiny wrist bag caught my eye. Despite the great diversity of color and style, the bags had two things in common. One, they all carried the brand “Invisible Sisters,” and two, they were all made from recovered and recycled trash.

Yes, trash, or garbage if you prefer.

Visitors and customers like me would always do a double-take after being told the exquisite bags were made of discarded palengke plastic bags. A meticulous middle-aged female customer fiddled with the crocheted bags. “You mean this is not string or yarn?” she asked incredulously.

“Opo, Ma’am, plastic po ‘yan,” Ate Rica, the leader of the group, promptly answered.

The Invisible Sisters

The plastic bags are collected and made into bags by a group of urban poor women – all mothers and grandmothers – called the Invisible Sisters.

“May nakapagsabi sa’kin, yung kumare ko, na may ganitong grupo. Marunong naman ako mag-crochet dati pa eh. Sumali ako doon sa workshop ni Ma’am Rica,” Josie Tolentino, 51 years old, said as she recalled how she became an Invisible Sister.

The Invisible Sisters is the brainchild of American environmental artist Ann Wizer.

"I began in my house in Manila in late August 2008. I wanted to create a second livelihood project that also reuses waste, while creating jobs in the process. Learning from lessons of my Jakarta XSProject, I wanted something simple and easy to replicate.”

Wizer’s recycling project in Jakarta was hugely successful. Trash-pickers from slums shredded foil packs from junk food packages. The strips of trash were used to plump up and embellish functional furniture such as sala sets and executive chairs. The project yielded income for the poor women and at the same time, reused and recycled tons of trash polluting the slums of Jakarta, Indonesia. The installation entitled High Chair currently on exhibit at the Lopez Memorial Museum is one such product of the trash-pickers, Ann Wizer, and the furniture-makers that Wizer hired.

In the Philippines, Wizer decided crocheting would be a more viable idea.

“I asked the Filipinos I knew if any one knew how to crochet. All I got were blank stares, but it didn't matter: we started in my garage with a pile of colored wires from computers, used dry cleaner bags, and the supply of old plastic bags."

With the help of her cook Rica Galgao, who eventually became the project coordinator, Wizer was able to jumpstart the project.

“Nagtanong-tanong kami ni Ma’am Ann sa mga foundation ng mga kababaihan dito sa Maynila. Nagsimula kami sa isa, hanggang sa dumami na nang dumami,” Rica recalled their start-up days.

Galgao was the first to learn how to crochet plastic bags. She invited and trained women, while Wizer helped in the designs and marketed the bags locally and abroad.

Today, the Invisible Sisters has over 200 mothers and grandmothers crocheting for income. Between them, they have over 500 children and an even more staggering number of grandchildren, most of whom have no regular income.

Empowering women

Fifty-one-year-old Josie Tolentino or Aling Josie was a Management graduate but got married at a young age. She never worked all her life, being a full-time housewife to her husband and four children, the youngest being only nine years old. She relied on her husband’s income until she became an Invisible Sister.

“Malaking tulong na din po sa amin. Lalo na kapag istambay lang kami sa bahay. Pagkatapos kong magluto at maglinis, wala na akong ginagawa. Kaya malaking bagay talaga.”

Aling Josie is one of the fastest and most skilled bag-makers in her group. On the average... ( to read the rest of the article, kindly click on this link)

Crossroads

2010-05-25T06:25:00.000-07:00

Yet again, I meet a cross road.

I don't want to actually call it a dilemma. The word sounds negative to me. I guess it's one of those times I need to think, re-think and make a sound and intelligent decision.

I'm one of those lucky ones who have a parents and a kind-hearted brother who fully support me. Those times when I was in despair and sorrow in a previous job (and tried my best to endure and keep silent, afraid to disappoint my family should I ever decide to quit), my brother literally rescued me.

We were in a plane on our way home from Boracay, when Kuya Ariel talked to me. He said he noticed how unhappy I was. And that if I resign, it was okay for him. He knew I was planning to take Post-Graduate studies ever since I started working (unfortunately, my load at work made studying impossible) so he gave me an offer I could not refuse: he will fund my Masteral studies. I knew my brother just wanted me to be happy and alive again. I thought about it and finally decided to give it a go.

But then, Ondoy destroyed our home.

The sight of our tattered house, our appliances and furniture soaked to the brim, mud water trickling from our ceiling were enough to turn my head three-hundred-sixty degrees. Those two days when our home was submerged in mud water, we wept-- my sister, my mother, my brothers and I. We couldn't believe it happened to us.

So I deferred my studies and without informing my family, I scouted for work. I was lucky I got two job interviews the week after Ondoy and both companies hired me. But I chose, of course, the one which was closer to home, located in Ortigas.

For this, I have no regrets. Even though my brother was disappointed. On my fulfillment with work, I would have to devote another blog entry. :-)

June is fast approaching and I find myself in another crossroad. My brother hoped my KCh. stint was just a summer-long deal. He brought it up again:" study full time first, you're not getting any younger."

It's a privilege that I have. As my Mommy said, any girl, any person, would grab the opportunity to study full-time, with a full allowance.

But right then, I paused. I thought it over, toyed with the idea.

I remembered my Mom. How she worked full time in radio parts factory just to finance her education, studying journalism in UST. How she nodded her head during classes, exhausted from overtime work. How she scrimped on her allowance so she can take more units in school. How she worked for 35 years in a simple office in a state university, because she was aware she needed stability to raise us -- a brood of 6.

My mom-- she has sacrificed so much in her life, just so me and my brothers and sister could live a good life. Without her, I would not have the privilege that I have now.

But would I be a brat and take it? Or would I rather be like my mother, who, forty plus years ago, rode jeepneys and broke a sweat, read piles of books and hand outs at past 12 m.n. and woke up at 6 a.m.?

I wish I can explain this to Kuya Ariel, who would surely scratch his head in confusion.

I wish there was a way to tell him what kind of woman I want to be, and am becoming.

I miss blogging!

2010-05-25T05:58:00.000-07:00

Ever since we moved out of our old house and since I've temporarily bid our wi-fi connection goodbye, it hasn't been the same between BLOGGING and me.

I guess we're undergoing a sort of cool-off. Yes, just like high school sweet hearts. So, yeah, until our house is fully renovated, I would have to make do with our mediocre Sun Cellular broadband connection. That means waiting forever to open my email, reading the newspaper or cleaning my nails while waiting for Facebook pictures and comments to load. And of course, lying low with my internet bestfriend -- www.blogspot.com.

There are so many things I've been raring to write about. I've been meaning to write about Tiu Dy, my work in the Knowledge Channel, the perks of meeting people in Masteral class, my niece Andeng and her smart, naughty ways (and oh-- how she can talk now! At less than 3 years, she can speak in complete sentences already!), about Eve Ensler's books, Sonya's Garden in Tagaytay. Bancheta in Ortigas, etcetera, etcetera.

So, baby, blogger, soon....I shall write....very, very soon!

Sweet-toothed summer: iskrambol, ice candy & other thirst busters

2010-05-13T08:35:00.000-07:00

So you placed two electric fans side by side, turned them full blast, and yet you still felt beads of sweat trickling down your face and neck. You tried to catch siesta to sleep the afternoon away, but all you succeeded at was to take cat naps as you are wakened again and again by a – gasp! – thirst that couldn’t be quenched. You end up with a headache as unrelenting as the furious sun.

You remembered the PAGASA public advisory to stock up on sun block and lots of water to get ready for the summer heat that has just registered its highest, at 36 degrees Celsius (as of April 6). But after drinking a pitcherful, water had become so blah and bland and boring you could just barf.

So you quit trying to sleep and get up to get out and go for something more exciting in summer "samalamig."

Just the thought alone of the glasses of summer coolers awaiting you just outside your home made your head a bit clearer and your soul less oppressed.

This is exactly what I did last weekend – dabbed sun block, grabbed an umbrella and rounded up the best palamig in town.

Halo-halo ni Nanay

Think summer cooler and you cannot but think of halo-halo. You and I have our own favorite halo-halo. It seems to be a toss-up between Chow King and Digman's. But there are those who would swear by Aling Taleng's halo-halo in Pagsanjan, Laguna that Metro Manilans make dayo for, because it had halo hard to find: buwa ng niyog and crisp dried kondol. Priceless!

But why go the distance and shell out more pesos when just a block away, rght in your neighborhood, there’s a halo-halo stand?

On Ilang-ilang Street, in our barangay in Pasig, Nanay Rosa yearly opens her halo-halo store soon as the schools are out. She offers a very good deal. Bring your own container, no matter what size, and she’ll fill it up. But since I forgot to bring my tall Selecta pint container, which I recycled as a glass at home, I had to make do with an ordinary plastic cup. Nanay Rosa spooned sago, gulaman, sweetened banana, langka, pinipig and melon strips into it, while her son quickly shaved ice. For just fifteen pesos, my halo-halo even had ube and leche flan. Sure, there was more ice than "halo," I guess it's par for the course with neighborhood halo-halo.

But the halo-halo to beat is our own home-made mix-mix. Time was my Mom would stock up on bottled macapuno, sweet beans, kaong, nata de coco, and halayang ube. We could ask her to put a bit more of our favorite halo into our glass. She would often oblige on condition that we shaved our own ice. The nice thing about our halo-halo was that we could put as much milk into it as we wanted. The best thing about it, we could ask for a second glass (not always granted, though). The weird thing about it: my mom would sometimes put fresh fruits into it, like cayomito, ripe mango, guyabano, and avocado. Eww!

Guinomis

At Goto King in Libis, I ordered a glass of guinomis. I guess I spoke too loudly, for the elderly woman behind me at the counter asked her son, "What’s guinomis?" and the son answered, "Hindi ko po alam."

Guinomis is in a sense a simpler version of halo-halo, still with the shaved ice on top, but with specific and fewer ingredients: sago (the tiny pearls), gulaman, and toasted pinipig. The caramelized sugar, sago and gulaman are cooked with pandan leaves. But what makes guinomis especially tasty is the gata (coconut cream) that takes the place of evaporada in halo-halo.

The first time I tasted guinomis was in my freshman year in UP Diliman. At CASAA, a stall whose specialty was sizzlers sold guinomis as well. It was so good I went back again and again. Nowadays, when I eat out, I always look for guinomis on the dessert menu.

The mother and son behind me, out of curiosity, ended up buying guinomis as well. I hope they were not as disappointed as I was: Goto King’s version had cornflakes instead of pinipig on top. And worst – that was no coconut milk they used as cream!

to read more of this article..log on to this site Philippine Online Chronicles- Buhay Pinoy

Ang Paglalaho ng Kayumangging Kaligatan

2010-03-03T03:57:00.000-08:00

Kayumangging kaligatan. 'Yan ang kulay ng mayumi at magandang dalagang Pilipina. Hindi maputi, hindi maitim. Morena. Kayumanggi si Maria Clara na minahal ni Crisostomo Ibarra at pinagnasaan ng Kastilaloy na si Padre Salvi (Noli Me Tangere).

Para sa mga banyagang puti, nakahahalina ang kayumangging Pilipina. Patok na patok ang morenang Pinay at hinahabol at pinipilahan pag dumayo sila sa Amerika at Europa. Kaya nga siguro ang mga Amerikana ay medyo kwidaw kung bibisita ang mga esposo o nobyo nila sa 'Pinas. Sila naman ang nagpupumilit na maging kayumanggi. Nagbibilad sila sa araw. Kung hindi sila makapunta sa tabing-dagat upang magpakasunog ng balat, ginagawa nila ito sa loob ng bahay. Mayroon silang tinatawag na tanning lamp at tanning lotion.

Kung bakit ang binatang Pinoy, ang hinahangaan at sinusuyo ay 'yung mga maputi ang balat. 'Tisay ang syota ko,' buong pagmamalaki nilang isisigaw upang marinig ng buong kapuluan. Marahil, nais din nilang maging maputi and kanilang magiging anak. O tingin nila ay puputi din sila sa pamamagitan ng prosesong osmosis.

Walang duda, impluwensya ito ng westernization. The Americanization of the Pinoy, wika nga. Salamat sa Hollywood, sinamba natin si Elizabeth Taylor, Ava Gardner, Rita Hayworth, Natalie Wood. Nagpatuloy ang ganitong idolatry sa henerasyon nila Drew Barrymore, Nicole Kidman, Jennifer Aniston, Scarlet Johanssen, at marami pang iba.

Dahil dito, ang naging batayan ng kagandahan ay ang nakakasilaw na balat, matarik na ilong, at bughaw o lavender o paiba-ibang kulay na mga mata. Chameleon eyes ang tawag dito. Dati-rati, hanggang buntong-hininga na lang at wishful thinking ang mga Pinay. Ngunit hindi na ngayon. Lahat 'yan magagawan ng paraan ng isang babaeng desididong magmukhang tisay at may pambili ng kaputian. May nose job dyan, blue contact lenses doon, at higit sa lahat mga skin whitening products na naglipana doon, dito, at kung saan-saan.

Napansin ninyo ba? Wala nang kayumanggi ngayon sa atin. O nababawasan na. Malapit na bang maglaho ang ganitong kulay ng balat sa ating bansa?

Mabiling-mabili ang papaya whitening soap. Hindi mo mabilang ang mga brand. Likas Papaya, Silka, Extract, Mestiza. Oo, mestiza! Maraming kompanya ang naglabas ng kanilang whitening line -- Eskinol, Godiva, Block and White, Olay, Ponds, Belo at Gluta. Hindi lang sabon -- may losyon din at krema. Mayroon pa daw skin whitening placenta -- kaya daw pumuti ang balat ng dating morenang beauty queen na si Melanie Marquez.

(to read more of my article, click on this link)

Published in wmn.ph: Vaginal Care 101

2010-02-21T10:23:00.000-08:00

Women openly exchange notes about personal grooming habits. They trade facial regimens, hair-care treatments and other secrets. But there’s one thing that’s not out in the open.

By Alina Co

Vaginal care, in blunt terms. Feminine hygiene to those fond of euphemisms. Though they still talk about it in whispers, Filipinas today are more aware of its increasing importance. According to Dr. Michelle Isip, OB-Gynecologist at St. Lukes Medical Center, good feminine hygiene prevents infections. Not only can discomfort result from less than standard feminine hygiene, sickness may occur as well. So more than feeling fresh and clean, do you think you’re healthy down there? Read on if you have doubts.
(photo by David Bernabe, model: Barbarra Lee)

Washing properly
The market offers several products that claim to get rid of germs, such as douches, feminine wipes, and feminine sprays. There are also anti-bacterial soaps that claim to do the trick. According to Dr. Isip, “It is still best to use a pH-balanced feminine wash so as not to alter one’s normal vaginal flora." Wash twice daily, when you shower in the morning and before you go to sleep, she urges."

(to read the rest of the article, log on to

http://www.wmn.ph/article/1212/vaginal-care-101)

Free Jaq! Free the 43!

2010-02-14T10:21:00.001-08:00

Just got tagged in Facebook. My friend from college Jaq is unjustly detained in AFP. Please spread the word.

27 UP is on February 23!

2010-02-07T06:07:00.000-08:00

27 UP is up! On February 23, join us as we celebrate Kathrina Tiu Dy's life in 6Underground, at 8 pm. Had she lived, Kat would have celebrated her 27th birthday here with us last February 2.

Tickets are priced at P500, as this is to raise money to pay for the whopping medical bills, still unpaid in the hospital. (The ticket entitles you to a free drink.)

So invite your friends for a night of bands and booze on February 23. Have a rockin' night and help at the same time!

27 UP Organizers would like to thank the following bands for agreeing to perform for free:Mayonnaise (Monty, thank you so much! Zarina, you're da best!), Ang Bandang Shirley, Cunejo(special mention: Pablo and Julius), Landas (thank you mareng Toni for bearing with our "kulit" and texts), Domini & Carissa, our talented batch mates in St. Paul (salamat Louise...sayang walang keyboard doon), and Nyctinasty (Kissa, Sheila's friend).

Also, thank you to Ancha, our Batch Head for her unwavering support. And all our batchmates (SPCP '01) for being there for us. Overwhelming ang support niyong lahat! To all the Paulinians who have never forgotten Tiu Dy, Vangie V., our busmates, Tiudy's friends in Assumption (Dyan, Pauline, Maris), in China Bank (April, sobrang thanks!) -- the coolest people Corinne, Dana, Kristle, KarKar, it was nice to meet you all.

Hope to see you all on Feb 23 and THANK YOU!

- Ali, Torres, Kate, Chuggs, Paz, Trisha, Ivette & Diaz

Missing Tiudypie

2010-01-16T13:30:00.000-08:00

God, I miss her so much.

How I ache for those times I should've, could've been with her. But wasn't. Because of what? What what what?

How I wish I could've listened to her more, tried more -- to understand why she did the things she did. Why she loved too much even though it hurt her.

(our pic taken at her house, back in college)

I want to be with her for one last time. Just make up for lost time.

But Lord, God, you have your ways. And I cannot question that.

How is she Lord? Is she okay, is she happy? Does she watch over us? Can you tell her I'm sorry? Can you tell her I still love her, never stopped loving her and knowing she's the best friend in the world?

Tiudy

2010-01-09T23:05:00.000-08:00

Today my best friend died. And I know nothing will ever be the same again.

My heart aches and it is broken. And it's all because she left this world too soon.

Falling for the Zohan

2010-01-08T11:10:00.000-08:00

When You Don't Mess with the Zohan premiered last 2008, comedy fans and escapists like me trooped to the cinema and almost fell off our chairs laughing. Ironic and improbable as it was, Zohan (played by Adam Sandler) is a tough Israeli Commander who fakes his death to pursue his dream of becoming a hair-stylist in New York.

Still, I always felt guilty behind my laughter because I didn't agree with the overall politics of the film. Looking at it in a critical way, given the history of the Middle East and America, Zohan was created to distantiate the American citizen from his fear of stereotypi

cal, dark-haired, bearded and terrorist Middle Eastern man. Zohan might have been an anti-terrorist go-to-guy, but he never thought twice in employing violent tactics to get ahead of his enemies. Worse, Zohan is reduced to dreaming the American dream. And this is the country that has decades of history of warfare and injustice against the Middle East, reasoning that it's counter-terrorism. In the end, the film producers conceal the truth and naturalize the wars and racism in the form of an amusing and hilarious comedy film.

But film texts and politics aside, a recent experience made me remember Zohan, the straight, sex machine hair-stylist, whose got hundreds of older women lining up for a hair cut and more. The sex part was an exaggeration and green humor device I suppose. But I guess the logic was that these women loved Zohan because here's a guy who knew how to make a woman not only look beautiful, but also feel beautiful.

Last weekend, I think I might have found my Zohan. :-)

Fate led me to a an upper-class type parlor is Metropolis, Ortigas. My Zohan (for the purposes of this article, I'll call him this way) was sporting a tight collared shirt, a hairstyle too funky and hip to be a straight guy's. A leather bag full of scissors and hairstyling what-not strapped to his bulging chest, my Zohan cleared his throat and smiled as the receptionist introduced us. My Zohan was too masculine to be gay!

There was no seductive, sizzling shampooing experience. But it was just sexy the way he said, "Ako bahala"("Leave it to me") to my "Uhm, I have no idea what to do with my hair".

Smooth and silky-- this was Zohan's motto, in the film that is.

And that is what my Zohan exactly did. He dyed my hair light brown, fit to my fair skin, he said. Then softened the the bristles and tassles with a good old warm hot oil treatment. But the best part was, the cutting of hair!

He was in control, concentrating on the task at hand. He cut, then gazed at me, lifted a pile of hair, stared then cut again. But always, always, glancing at me with an abrupt gaze. And I just knew this guy, My Zohan, is a sensitive woman's man, who knew important it was for a girl to feel beautiful. Forget those guys who laughed and hissed at their girlfriend's 30-minute powder room break! Who didn't give a damn if it's a light blue chiffon dress or a silky red ensemble. Or didn't even notice his girl's got a new hair style. Here is a guy who finally understood.

When he applied his finishing touches and unhooked the white gown, I had to stop myself from demanding more, "Pakiiklian pa nga!" I was devastated it had to end. And I knew all there was left to do was give him a hearty tip and the sweetest smile I could muster.

And now I just can't wait for my hair to grow back and find another reason to visit my Zohan for another beauty session.

I Love You, Goodbye

2010-01-05T11:14:00.000-08:00

First things first. Let me clarify that this is not a movie review.

This is what I have resolved not to write once I stepped out of the movie house, with my face furrowed with a mixture of disdain and disbelief. Besides, it's not even an hour's worth of writing!

But you are now, you say.

Again, this is not a review. I write this on behalf of my responsibility as an intelligent viewer and a graduate of Filmmaking in U.P. Diliman. I do this because I’m a concerned citizen.

Sure, just like everyone else who paid the expensive tickets, I was deceived that the film, though in its obvious commercial/mainstream value, still has a great story to tell. I also felt it was interesting to see how Angelica Panganiban's thespian skills have evolved since Santa Santita. And yeah, it didn't hurt Derek Ramsey is such a catch!

In the film, Angelica Panganiban is Leizl, a coffee shop barista living in with Dr. Adrian (played by Gabby Concepcion). Adrian is a rich man, soon to be divorced to his ex-wife, played by Angel Aquino.

Early on in the film, the all-too-familiar theme of economic status difference is revealed. Adrian's mom is the quintessential matriarch, who thinks poor Leizl is just after her son's money. Boohoo. Leizl appears to carry on, believing that Adrian's love is enough, even as Adrian's daughter Issa (Kim Chiu) apparently loathe her and did not waste any screen time to show her predictable bratty, attention-hungry portrayal.

But hang on, viewer! This is not the story altogether. Surely, there's a twist. And sweet and obedient as Leizl is (like a puppy on her sugar daddy's lap!), a poor girl like her certainly has ghosts in her closet. In a long, seemingly unending, distasteful flashback, we find out that two years ago, Leizl was madly in love with Gary (played by real-life boyfriend Derek Ramsay), a struggling, lower-class and blue-collared worker like her. They were happy and had the grandest plans for a bright future ahead. In a few days, they were off to work in a cruise ship, to earn lots of moolah. Only one test to go and they were off. Unfortunately, Leizl wasn’t able to jump off the boat out of an anxiety attack. Gary is furious and leaves for the cruise ship, without even saying goodbye. This left poor Leizl heart-broken and lonely.

Without even attempting to heal on her own, Leizl finds solace in the arms of Adrian, who, coincidentally is the doctor who treated her for her anxiety attack (note that Adrian was a heart surgeon in the film. To the writers, did you actually do some research?).

When Gary comes back to the Philippines for Leizl, our protagonist is torn between him and Adrian. It is in these parts that I find Leizl's characterization offensive. At first, she was seemingly loyal to Adrian. But when Adrian became aloof and cold-hearted to her one day, Leizl was quick to jump ship and have sex with her ex. When both men propose marriage to her, Leizl chooses Gary over Adrian.

I Love You Goodbye is portraying a Filipina heroine as someone who is subordinate to men, and relies her happiness and identity to men. Shown as weak, fickle and impulsive, Leizl is an object that men compete for. They brandish their shiny cars, riches and diamond rings to win the woman's affection and eventually, love. And yes, a woman's woes and aches can be erased when the church bells ring and a man finally marries her.

When Gary doesn't show up at their meeting place to elope, Leizl is again a mess. But, well, there's a guy waiting for me at home, Leizl thinks. I might as well marry this guy.

Just as the film was about to end with Leizl's conlusion to marry her "second choice, it is revealed that Gary died on his way to meet Leizl. And Adrian was the informant who reported his death. I guess this is the part they say the film resembled Unfaithful. Leizl confronts Adrian, who confesses that he knew for some time about Leizl's affair. That in his jealousy, he confronted Gary to walk away and leave him and his future bride alone. But in an illogical, hilarious and contrived twist of fate, Gary is ran over by a speeding car.

And for the final blow of it all, I Love You Goodbye concludes with a happy ending. A utopian world, that might as well have been a scene in twilight zone, where all is forgiven and forgotten.

And love simply conquered all, smoothing out the edges, erasing all the evil in the world.

The characters can smile all they want, but it cannot fool me and the rest of the moviegoers. Again, Star Cinema shows us how their cowardice in telling genuine stories and reflecting the realities of life.

Instead, their example and the rest of the rotten films of MMFF 2010 are constant insults to the great films produced in MMFF in the past. Remember Mike de Leon’s “Kung Mangarap Ka’t Magising” (1977) and “Kisapmata” (1981), Ishmael Bernal’s “Himala” (1982), Lino Brocka’s “Ina Ka Ng Anak Mo” (1979), and Chito Roño’s “Dekada ’70” (2002).

Wake up, movie big wigs! It's time to put your money and influence to good use. Revive Philippine Cinema's golden era now!

Christmas in Neverland

2009-12-25T08:01:00.000-08:00

I have a deadline.

To post my Christmas entry right before Christmas ends and the way it’s going on now, I feel like I’m rushing to edit a TV segment, airing live in five, four, three, to one…

Ho-hum! Just one of the things I love about blogging, though. I can write whatever the hell I want. It’s my space, my words, at my own pace and time. Yet it feels fun imposing pressure. Writing’s nature is half of that, I suppose.

Now what to write? I can jot down my 12 days of Christmas; or upload pictures of our noche buena; or will an essay entitled “My Christmas Vacation”, ala-grade-school-english-assignment do? Maybe something political, touching on the oppressive consumerist aspects of Christmas, and how capitalists use the season to make us – the common men— shop 'til we drop, buy now, buy more! (eewww...buy, such an ugly word, don't you think?)

Instead, I decided to write down the smallest, simplest things that make me happy. In Peter Pan’s world, these are “happy thoughts” that make Wendy and her brothers float and fly into Neverland. I guess I’ve come to a point when Christmas doesn’t mean festivities and gift-giving, lights and lanterns, sparkles and peace signs passed around. It’s a state of mind, a state of being, a line of thought.

This Christmas, my gift for myself is not the coveted full body massage or diamond peel, or a purple cute sandals I've been visiting in Shoe Salon for a year now, earning suspicious glances from the sales ladies. Instead, I give myself this— a list of precious, priceless memories and thoughts I can go back to, time and again, just to remind myself how blessed I am to have been created by Jesus and be surrounded by so much love.

1. The smell of my mom' dusters. I loved to sniff them when I was a kid every time mom was away for a business trip. It made bearing her absence much easier. Mom never used perfume. She has an innate scent, a combination of dough, mint, jasmine - it beats all CK and Cool Water and all those famous perfumes. I used to fall asleep, hugging her duster.

2. My sister running, throwing herself in front of me, to save me from a hearty beating from Dad. I believe I have the greatest ate in the world. I used to ruin her birthdays, snatch her gifts, bite her, scratch her, even ruin her solo pictures, by inserting my hand or foot just when the camera clicks. I've done the meanest, cruelest things to her when we were kids. But ate was just altogether a different species. I thank her for teaching me what it really means to love.

3. Back in grade 3, as we were heading home in our school service, I just couldn't keep still. I knew it was the day we were going to have our new car! I was too anxious to get home that I even shared this fact to my bus mates. Around 3 blocks from home, a run-down, dirty silver owner-type jeep passed by and honked. The owner was just halfway done. It did not even have a roof and the engine was out there, naked. My brother honked again. I swallowed a little. Then, chin up, I stepped out of our service and sat next to my kuya and beamed back to my bus mates.

4. Dancing "Ice Ice Baby" with my grade 3 buddies Tiudy and Ida.

5. Auditioning for a slot in our Drama Club and landing it with my very own rendition of Katya Santos in Ang TV. Plus I also imitated the "Flintstone" commercial, where little sister keeps pestering big sister why she's wearing a dress, putting on make-up, etc. And ate keeps answering "Because!!!!"

6. Sneaking out of school during mornings. This was a private, all-girls, nun-administered high school and we weren't allowed to leave the school's premises. That would be like cutting classes, right? But often, we snuck in a friend's car and hid at the back to have breakfast in Mc Donald's, St. Francis. I hated the pancakes, but was just in love with the thrill of getting caught! Luckily, we weren't.

7. Ranking 3^rd in a carbonara-eating contest in college, organized by the student council. Competing with THREE hungry boys, and a starbucks GC at stake, I bid poise goodbye and chomped away.

8. The first time I sang in front of a crowd. It was for a freshmen orientation and our org UP UGAT was presenting. I sang "Here's Where the Story Ends" by The Sundays (with partner Adam David). While singing, I just felt the whole auditorium listening, really listening. After the performance, a girl from the next band introduced herself and said she liked my voice. I was in bliss!

9. And hmmm....I remember Fete de la Musique in Podium. I was with K4 and some of my orgmates in UP CAST. Something was already going on between me and Sam, but we weren't official yet.

That whole night, Sam and I weren't together. But during the Cynthia Alexander gig, finally, we had time alone. It was the first time he wrapped his arms around me from the back (spooning, in short!). I felt goosebumps all over! My head was light, and my cheeks were on fire! The crowd, the heat, the sweat, the rush of people moving here and there made me feel dizzy. I held on to his arms just to keep from fainting. I also knew then that I was falling in love.

10. My pamangkin Andeng's sweet, impish, mischievous smile. Ang pinaka-pilyang bata! She totally changed me. Before, I didn't understand why people go gaga over kids. For me, they looked all the same, just...well, kids. But when Andeng came, I finally understood why.

Oops...it's past midnight already. And I'm already sleepy.... hope you're not though! My buzzer beater greetings to all, keep those happy thoughts coming, Merry Christmas! Tata, I'm off to fly fly fly in a faraway land, in the secret pockets of my dreams! Goodnight everybody!

On Christmas and Crisis: You can never be too cheap when it's about the spirit, after all!

2009-12-06T06:35:00.000-08:00

With the global crisis and skyrocketing prices of gas, vegetables, and practically everything one has to pay for, what's a girl and guy to do?

So today, Sam and I have officially said goodbye to road trips in Tagaytay, weekly splurges on foodie-fact finding missions in posh restaurants and expensive movie dates.

Hello cheap, but nonetheless fun and thrill-filled dates!

For our first stop: Greenhills Shopping Center.

Every night, from 7: 00 to 10: 40 pm, masa people troop to Greenhills to watch a Christmas show staged in a life-sized manger, while enjoying cheap, but great food and strolling the night market.

The food binger in me relished in the abundance of Philippines' best cuisine. Street food, what else? From everything inihaw (corn, squid, isaw, bangus, betamax) to

Oriental (siopao, noodles, congee and siomai) to Pinoy's favorite Christmas staples like suman, bibingka and puto-bumbong. Chairs and tables are available for those who want to eat, while watching the show.

And while you're at it, why not squeeze in a bit of shopping? The place is filled with tiangges, where cheap finds and thrills are sure to be discovered. Plus, you can ask for bargain prices with a little bit of prodding

and charm. In other words, make "TAWAD!!!!!"

The looped Christmas show might not be music to the ears once you've heard it for the nth time, but the throng of people coming in, not to mention the sights and smells, might just provide variety and ample entertainment.

For me, just imbibing the Christmas spirit is worth it. I remember feeling so much awe when I watched the show the first time in COD, Cubao, when I was six years old. They transferred the show to Greenhills around three years ago, I think. But every year, I make it a point to watch, just to remember how it feels when I was kid. When Christmas was all the magic and happiness I've known it to be.

The night ended with our stomaches bloated from too much food, and yet our wallets and budgets intact. Best of all, blue, green, red and yellow lights blinked on our faces as we kissed good night. Without words, we knew it was the best pre-Christmas date we ever had.

[BUDGET BREAKDOWN]

Commute to Greenhills: P22 (two persons)

Entrance Fee: None

Ferino's Bibingka: P95

Gulaman: P20 (two persons)

Rice with 3 pieces isaw: P69

Inihaw na Mais: P20

Fishballs: P30 (two orders)

Siomai with noodles: P25

TOTAL: P281

My Mom, The Author.

2009-11-30T09:49:00.000-08:00

I used to joke Mommy, with hurt in my voice, “why didn’t you give me your payat genes?” I was referring to her special gift of gobbling sweets and carbohydrates without gaining an inch on her waist. Whereas I, her bratty bonch, have accepted my fate of diet pills, crash diets and gym sessions just to keep insecurities away. I learned to accept eventually that I was going to be chubby all my life. Tough luck, huh?

But this doesn’t mean I didn’t inherit anything good from her. In fact, I have a lot to thank her genes for. I got her unflinching “work before play” attitude; her go-getter stamina, a zest and passion for life and...according to her, a creative flair for words.

My mom writes like she breathes and eats. She conjures words and phrases like she stirs and throws ingredients in a pot of stew.

And I’ve got to admit, growing up with a writer for a mom made my life “more interesting” in school. Hey, don’t get me wrong, she didn’t write anything for me. She wanted me to sweat it out like the rest of my classmates. That’s how great a mom she is! Well…let’s just say she edited me and edited my essays well, making masterpieces out of relatively “ho-hum” compositions.

But in college, I started attending more scriptwriting classes than creative writing ones. Perhaps, it was a conscious or subconscious effort, knowing that I could never measure up to my mom as a creative, feature and technical writer. I carved my own niche, but I realize I wouldn’t be a great TV Writer now if not for my mom’s merciless editing and bashing, her gift for finding better words and syntaxes, which still amazes me to this day.

Knowing all these all this time though, didn’t prepare me for the wealth of emotions I felt the day my mom launched her first book—IN ANOTHER DRESS last November 27 in UP, Diliman. Under the pseudonym AnnaManila, also the namesake of her blog ode2old.blogspot.com, my mom wrote mostly about retirement jitters, the pains and joys of growing old, always with a dash of humor and a relentless quirky tone that can topple any top magazine editor-in-chief.

The night before my mom’s launch, and as I read on, page after page of my mom’s stories in chapter two (Whimpering, Simpering, Blundering Youth), I realized that even though my mom and I are very close, as in girlfriends/BFF-kind-of-close, there are still so many parts of her I didn’t know.

I knew her only as my mother— the working mom, the caring mom, the worrier mom. She told me she came from Tondo, sported pigtails in high school and liked eating Horlicks. But I never saw this shy, insecure girl, who pined for her father’s approval and her sister’s recognition. I never ever saw my mom as a struggling colegiala, who wanted to gain new friends and be “ensconced in college society”. Never imagined my mom, my dear, loving mom, grieving over childish mistakes.

I never imagined what my mom went through, living in Tondo, raised in a lower middle class home, studying and working at the same time, raising a brood of 6 while balancing a career-- what my mom had to go through just to be the strong and talented woman she is now. To be my mother that she is now.

As I continued to leaf through the pages, I felt a surge of emotion overcoming me. The night before the launch, mom was in full panic mode.

What if they hate my book?

I hate my book!

I hate my hair!

What if too few people attend? What if there’s too many?

What if I stutter, what if I fall, what if--!!!!

I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself any longer, even as I planned to prepare a small speech at the launch. There was no better time than this, I thought to myself.

Tears started to well in my eyes as I told her, “Ma, this is a great book. I’m so proud of you.”

Mommy replied with a tight embrace. “Now, I don’t feel so nervous about the launch anymore. Thank you my bonch.”

Stripping myself of biases, being a book-lover and my mom’s toughest critic as well, I can honestly and with all sincerity say that AnnaManila wrote a great book. Any reader, regardless of age, class, gender and status will surely cry, laugh, sigh and daydream with AnnaManila. For in four chapters, and forty-eight stories, AnnaManila succeeds to “undress” herself, and speak from the heart. In the end, it’s “another dress” we’d fit over and over again, and never get tired of.

As for the daughter in me, I thank my mom for always being there to edit not only my words, but also the work in progress that is me.

The First Day of Christmas Project

2009-11-02T08:46:00.000-08:00

Exactly four years ago, I watched a documentary film entitled Bunso. It was about juvenile delinquents locked in jails in provinces, and it touched me so much that I was inspired to organize an outreach for them. I started out in Pasig City Jail. It was tough to do since I had to ask permission from DOJ and all the red tape I had to go through. But they were very supportive and together with my friends and orgmates in college, we gave the kids a very memorable Christmas.

Today when I received an email from Miss Jaedee regarding the First Day of Christmas Project, I felt not an ounce of hesitation. My immediately said yes.

And since I cannot explain the project better than the blog site itself, please feel free to click on this link to find out more about the project:

http://firstdayofchristmas.wordpress.com/2009/09/14/the-return-of-the-first-day-of-christmas-project/

If you're interested, kindly email me (my email is found above) or you can contact Jaedee directly at jaedeelight@yahoo.com.

Advanced Merry Christmas everyone!

Behold my mighty, shinin', spanking new planner!

2009-11-01T06:43:00.000-08:00

So there I was, walking straight to the school supplies section. My steps were small but quick. I was eager to hold and turn the cover, smell the fresh pages and dip my hands on clean texts of dates and months.

I was elated when I saw a a whole shelf of planners, brimming with colors. There were big leathery planners that were too expensive for my taste (and budget..yeah, but mostly budget!), small ones with a few pages with colorful covers to make up for its thinness, and other medium-sized ones that were either brown or black, like no-nonsense, comely secretaries with round-rimmed glasses and stiff freshly-starched skirts, ready for business and eager to organize its next master's life.

And I was the most willing, over anxious master.

But then all of the planners had one glaring defect-- it all had the year 2010 stamped on them. I felt my hope waning.

I approached a National Book store sales lady near the area and asked if there were any 2009 versions left.

"Ay, phased out na po Ma'am yung 2009!" (Translation: Hibang ka ba, magtu-2010 na! Siyempre wala na davah?)

Well, of course it is! I know because my naughty kid neighbors have been letting loose their fireworks as early as now. Yes, it's just two months before the Happy New Year of 2010 arrives. But because my 2009 planner (my 2 beautiful 2009 planners -- from Starbucks and Skin Food) floated in murky and did I mention stinky flood waters of Ondoy (which submerged our entire home last September 26, oh that ill-fated day!), and since this November, I will be taking my Masters and working as TV/NGO Writer/Producer at the same time, not to mention doing voice overs and writing for Hinge Inquirer magazines, I need, am in desperate and in dire need of a planner!

Anyway, just as I was about to turn around, my shoulders hunched, about to give up my fate to writing my life plans on my Jollibee Kids notebook (which managed to survive since I brought it with me when I was in Ateneo for the exam..hmmm...it's funny how the old things survived Ondoy, the ones we often reject and almost laugh at, like our old car that managed to be wreck and mud-free from it all), Sam (my bestfriend and my boyfriend-- yes I'm lucky to have found both in one guy)pointed out a lane of organizers, hiding in the dark part of the book store.

And there it was-- black and small and cheap. It is sensitive enough to include 2009 in its roster of years (it has until 2013 I think). It has sections for weekly, monthly and even hourly planning. I grabbed the lone organizer and squeezed it between my arms.

Today, I opened my new planner. It might just be a planner, that's all. Just an organizer, no big deal. But for me, it was so much more. After Ondoy, my plans in life suddenly changed, as if my world stopped.

But then, here I am, clutching a new planner, starting anew, taking off from where I was before Ondoy.

And I'm so excited to fill it up with my messy handwriting. And get elated over the special dates where I have to do some stunts just to get over the day.

Hello, new planner, are you ready for my schedule and my calligraphy handwriting? I'll try my best to get you dry this time! But I can't do anything about my handwriting, sorry.

In Another Dress by AnnaManila

2009-10-30T09:04:00.000-07:00

When she's not nagging me and texting me "Wtu?" (her acronym for what time uwi mo?)
she's cooking and baking, reading her favorite Anne Tyler book, shopping in the afternoon or taking short walks in the neighborhood.

Elsewhere, she's at home, updating her blog and amusing (and touching) hundreds of the readers of Ode2Old.blogspot.com -- with the tagline "the best is yet to be." She's AnnaManila, a 66-year old amazing woman. And she's my mom.

With her first book entitled IN ANOTHER DRESS, AnnaManila tells the stories of a young Anna, who pined for her father's love; how an awkward kolehiyala loses the friendship of a special girl; and about the quirks of a paranoid mother whose ways can be outlandish, but often times endearing.

But mostly, she shows how life at sixty plus can be a fresh beginning and an adventure at discovering who you really are and finding deeper and more profound love in the world.

A cross between chic flick, essay collection sans autobiography, IN ANOTHER DRESS is the first book in the Philippines to feature a blog space, centering on life at old age.

And yes, did I mention that my mom facebooks, twitters, plurks, YM chats, and plants, ploughs and harvests in FarmTown?

Can you believe she even has more Facebook friends than me?

Really, I'm one proud daughter.

In Another Dress will be launched this end of November at UPISSI, Diliman. The book is published by Extempo Publishing House.

Kate Winslet Fandom

2009-10-27T10:01:00.000-07:00

More than ten years ago (I must have been in grade school back then), I was surfing the channels (all free TV, there was no luxury of cable then) and I happened to stop by Channel 9.

Back then, Channel 9 was government-owned and believe it or not, it was a better channel than ABS and GMA that time. They had a roster of kick-ass series like Mc Gyver, Alley Mc Beal, The Simpsons, Doogie Houser and a whole lot more.

They also featured movies and that particular night, the movie caught my attention. It was called Heavenly Creatures.

The story goes like this: two adolescent girls Pauline and Juliet come from entirely different worlds. Juliet is an upper-class, spoiled girl, whose A-list mother hardly gives a damn about her. Pauline lives with her mother in a ramshackle house-- her poverty making her shy and reclusive. When Pauline and Juliet meet in class, they were magnets that formed a friendship no one can understand. When they're together, it's as if they have their own imaginary world, where no parent, no teacher, no class bully can enter.

The movie becomes weirder though, when Pauline suddenly becomes possessive of Juliet. Their relationship turns from a platonic friendship to a dangerous obsession. When their parents realize this, they try to separate the girls. But Pauline and Juliet have come too far in their imaginary world-- where fantasies are easily turned into nightmares.

They then set out to plan a perfect murder, believing it can lead to a happily-ever-after for them.

I remembered the film recently and I found out, much to my surprise, that Kate Winslet played the role of Juliet!

And what's more shocking is that Heavenly Creatures was based from a true story.

Kate Winslet is among my favorite actresses in Hollywood. Her roster of films are impressive- The Reader, Little Children, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Finding Neverland, Sense and Sensibility, among others. She has proven she's a flexible actress. And with a director for a husband (Sam Mendes), who directed her in Revolutionary Road, I believe Kate can go a long way. She can be the next Meryl Streep.

As early as now, she has wowed critics and audience with her astounding performances. And it's not surprising because at the early age of thirteen (age to be confirmed), she's been taking on challenging roles such as Juliet in Heavenly Creatures.

I'm looking forward to her films this coming 2010.

I'm nervous but I liked the film so I'm doing it!

2009-10-26T06:26:00.000-07:00

BIYAHENG LUPA
Written, Produced and Directed by Armando Lao

I know what happens next. I will feel jitters. The moment I feel my hair tingling, then I’d know I’m inches away from chickening out.

Can you blame me for being scared? After all, I’m just a student, so can you say I’m wrong for feeling this way, frightened at the thought of punching another letter in my keyboard, when I’m about to write a review, a reaction paper at the least, about my scriptwriting mentor Armando “Bing” Lao’s directorial debut?

And it doesn’t help that I have yet to finish the course, and still feeling my way around what Sir Bing calls epiphanies and trying to grasp the principles of “real time”.

For those who are not familiar with Pinoy film industry, Armando Lao is a well-respected and highly accomplished screenplay writer and creative producer. He has written numerous screenplays for mainstream cinema like Minsan Pa (2004), La Vida Rosa (2001), Tuhog (2001). Sana Pagibig Na (1998), Pila-Balde (1999), among others in a long list. But starting 2006, Armando Lao u-turned to independent cinema and his creative genius paved the way to international acclaim, with films like Kubrador (2006), Serbis (2008) and Kinatay (2009), which won the 62nd Cannes Film Festival Best Director award for Brillante Mendoza, a director who was mentored by Bing Lao himself.

Not the usual screenplay writer who finishes the script and lets the director do all the interpretation, perhaps visits the shooting a day or two, Armando Lao is in for the long overhaul—he does the research, he writes, he executive produces and sits down with the editor and director. “It’s a partnership between the writer and director,” Sir Bing stresses in class. He believes both Writer and Director are the filmmakers. But in cases when the Director and Writer is the same person, then he or she is called an Auteur Filmmaker.

And a few years shy from 2010, Sir Bing Lao decided to complete his creative process. After all, he's been a filmmaker all these years now. So when his good friend Atty. Joji Alonso read the script and told him, "You should direct this, Bing!", it was the natural thing to do--to be an auteur filmmaker himself.

The whole story of Biyaheng Lupa (English title: Soliloquy) takes place inside a bus bound from Manila to Bicol, a bus ride most of us Pinoys are familiar with. There's the boredom of a 12-hour ride-- if we're not sleeping and watching a movie, we entertain ourselves with looking at our co-passengers, curious where they're going, what kinds of person they are, etc.

And it is this curiosity that keeps the film going.

Bing Lao gathers a motley crew of passengers, each with his/her own story, destination, with his or her own quirk. And some, with deep secrets. One old woman is an ex-convict, who used to be a drug-pusher. Helen (Jaclyn Jose) is a married woman having an affair. Smitten by the bus conductor, Lillia (Angel Aquino) is a town gossip searching for true love. Alex is a thriving virgin coconut oil salesman. Then there’s Irene (Eugene Domningo), who is about to leave her son for a menial job abroad; Mickie, a handsome deaf-mute who visits his dead mother's tomb; and Obet, a young man who turns aways from filial duty to start a new life in Bicol.

All the characters form a certain chemistry, inflicting drama, suspense and even humor. Put together, these individuals are about to find out they're in for the ride of their lives, as inner demons are revealed, hearts are broken and mended, and the thin line between fate and destiny is challenged.

Unforgettable in Biyaheng Lupa is the use of the bus door device. When the door is open, real time mode is used, where we hear the passengers and even peddlers and civilians outside communicating in the normal way. But once the door is closed, I am immediately enclosed in a claustrophobic, four-cornered bus, where my mind floats from one person's thoughts to the next. In this "mode", gestures and observations are crucial to understanding the film, as well as the thoughts that we hear constantly buzzing in our ears.

Though using "poetic time" mode, the stories and the characters are realistic, each jump from one character to the next seamless. At first, the film showed an ending for each passenger that reached their destination. Thinking that this will be pursued for all of the characters, I was disappointed when some of them just disappeared like thin air, just like Eugene Domingo's role.

Technical glitches aside, Biyaheng Lupa is a bus ride I'd gladly take for the second time, perhaps with some u-turns and more screeching brakes, where characters can collide more in a jolting manner. And yes, watching the film was like being in the UFO workshop, where I point out in my head every device Sir has taught us. But to tell you what are these "devices" would not be appropriate. Why? Cause I'll be giving out confidential matters. And I wouldn't want to risk being kicked out of Sir's mentoring as if it's not enough I decided to blog about this, you know. :-)

Look Who's Talking!

2009-09-25T10:00:00.001-07:00

The Unseen Faces Behind the Mic
By Maria Alina Co

(Published in Manila Bulletin Lifestyle, September 20, 2009)

Without voices, it must be an awfully dull world. Can you imagine Naruto fighting Sasuke without dialogue, or endless static on your favorite radio station?

That would be such a bummer, right?

That’s because voice gives emotion, color, and spark to what we see on the screen. They render clarity to the story unfolding before us. However the voice-over talents in cartoons and radio are often faceless and nameless. They hide in the dark, in a manner of speaking.

That’s why we’re putting the finest voice actors in the limelight this time. And guess what, they’re not only talented and already making waves in the industry, but they’re also very young and personable.

Playing while working

At only 13 yrs. old, Kat-Kat Tolentino has voice-acted and dubbed for over nine TV programs.

She was only eight when she auditioned for the first time. “I used to tag along my Dad in ABS-CBN for his dubbing sessions. It was fun watching the shows on TV, so I told Papa I wanted to try it out.” Her father, Neil Tolentino, is a Dubbing Writer and Director for Hero TV. “My first audition, I cried. My Papa said I wasn’t good enough. I flunked.”

The next year Kat-Kat landed a lead role as Shahaku in the anime Three-Eyed One. “Among all the shows I dubbed, this is my favorite. It was my lucky project since I had more after it. Plus it was very challenging since Shahaku was a little boy.”

Sweet and girly, it’s hard to imagine Kat-Kat as a young magical boy with a third eye. But she does it by being in character. Dreaming of taking Theater Arts or Music someday, Kat-Kat manages to juggle her school and dubbing career. “It’s really fun because it’s just like playing with your friends and making voices. The best part is you get to earn money at the same time. Like me, I’m only 13 but I bought my own cell phone and I get to help out in the family budget.”

Dubbing Contest Champions

For Jill Fernandez and Ed Jaluag, it took talent and a lot of guts to join dubbing contests like Hataw Hanep Hero.

“Imagine dubbing in front of a huge crowd! It was an exhilarating experience,” quipped 18-year old Jill. Luckily, she bested 600 contestants and bagged the prize—a scholarship in Creativoices where she honed her voice-acting skills.

After graduation, Creativoices Owner and the Voice Master Pocholo Gonzales cast Jill as leads for Bokura Ga Ita and Negima, both anime series that aired on Hero TV. The rest is history. Currently, she is the voice behind Lemon Angels’ Tomo on Hero and Boys Over Flowers’ Ha Jae Gyeong on ABS-CBN. “I enjoy what I’m doing. I like the shows and the bonds I form with my fellow dubbers.”

For Ed, a 24-year old Video Editor, winning the fourth Hataw Hanep Hero saved him from resigning his job. “I was into Theater in high school. At work, I got bored not being able to express myself.”

A toy-collector and a cosplayer, Ed was naturally drawn to dubbing. After finishing the workshop, Ed landed one of the lead roles and a total of 25 minor roles in ABS-CBN’s KimPossible.

A Nice Voice

“People used to always say I had a nice voice, and so I thought I was a natural to get into the voice-acting industry.”

But it was only when Albert joined the workshop that he realized he still had so much to learn. 20-year old Albert is a student DJ in RX 93.1’s Radio1. He is also the President of the Society of Young Voice Artists of the Philippines (SYVAP), an organization that aims to promote voice acting as an art and career. Jill and Ed are among the 200 members of SYVAP.

“I continue to learn in SYVAP and realized there’s much more to voice acting-- from dubbing to DJ-ing, hosting events, reciting poetry, storytelling and radio dramas. A voice actor is anyone who expresses himself creatively through his voice.”

Founded by Pocholo Gonzales, SYVAP serves as a venue for aspiring voice artists to hone their craft through volunteerism and teamwork.

“The secret to being a good voice actor is to treat it as an art. Then if you’re good, the money will just come,” Gonzales said.

Living Their Dreams

Voice acting is a tough craft, but a lot of fun, especially when you’re passionate about it.

“When I dub, I forget all about my problems because I’m not myself but rather the character I am dubbing. I can become an anime, a super hero or a beautiful Korean, whatever the role requires,” Jill shared.

For Albert, one just has to believe in himself. “Being a voice actor really boosted my self esteem. I have become self-confident. I just love being heard and I want to share this to others.”

Ed added, “I love dubbing. I can do this every day of my life and will never feel like I’ve worked a day.”

*To know more about SYVAP, email info@syvap.org for more details.

Loving It UP!

2009-09-05T08:18:00.000-07:00

UP in the Ratings and in my Top Film Faves
Directed by: Pete Docter & Bob Peterson

Article By Maria Alina Co

I’m not much a fan of animations, never have been. I’m the type who goes for drama, suspense, horror, or light-hearted comedies or romances, shot in live action. But once in a while, when I catch an animation movie trailer with a promising storyline, I make it a point to watch it in the big screen, all the more to appreciate the colors and the 3D motion graphics.

Shrek II’s ironic parallelism between the medieval age and contemporary culture made it a cinematic gem. Coraline, a story about a girl who finds an eerily familiar world through a small door, is on my list simply because I love Neil Gaiman’s dark children’s story novel. I laud Wall-E’s director and producers for coming up with a futuristic story for the first time.

But after watching Walt Disney and Pixar’s latest feature film, for me, I would have to say UP takes home the grand prize. Hands down to the filmmakers of UP!

Like most commercial animation films, UP follows the formula—protagonist is a loser who suffer from a loss, despair or insecurity, but after protagonist meets one friend after another, most of the time reluctant of the friendship at first but eventually gains or earns the friend’s confidence, protagonist realizes his/her wrongdoings and overcomes his/her obstacles. In the end, together they fight the forces of evil and get his/her happy ending.

We all love losers, yes? For why would you root for someone who appears to be content and flawless? That would be a boring film, right?

In UP, Carl is a grumpy 78-year old widower, living in a conservative house in the middle of a commercially developing, bustling street. Lonely for the company of his love, his late wife Ellie, Carl stubbornly refuses to sell his property to the real estate giants and surrender to living in a retirement home. Instead, Carl chooses to fulfill his and Ellie’s lifelong dream—to live in a lost land called Paradise Falls.

Reminiscent of the cartoon TV series Flying House, without the time-warping effect and minus the gospel stories, Carl ties thousands of balloons to his house and flies up up and away to have the greatest adventure of his life. But he discovers all too late that his biggest nightmare accidentally hitches a ride— the chubby Wilderness Explorer boy named Russell. Together, the most unlikely pair embarks on a journey to South America, where they find truth and discover friendship in a lost world.

Like any animation film, humor plays a significant part in its success and you’d find UP not lacking in comic antics and banters. Russell’s innocent and bubbly ways would win any kid or adult’s heart. He is clumsy, awkward, but ultimately as loveable and honest as any kid we know. On the other hand, Carl is just like our wrinkled and grouchy grandpas, irritable to kids’ restless ways and yet ironically funny.

But take away all the comic banters, talking dogs, even the colorful animation fest, we are left with a simple story about an old man who takes a second wind at life. I applaud the makers of UP who, their general audience being kids, dare to tackle the aged life. Kids and young adults can certainly learn lessons from our old folks.

When he and Ellie were younger, they dreamed of being wilderness explorers, living great adventures. But as reality’s daily grind sunk in, they lost hold of that dream, like a hand letting go of a balloon, floating away, disappearing behind the mist of clouds. How many of us adults have let our dreams go? Never mind if it was intentional, or perhaps, just for the moment, keeping them like pressed flowers on scrapbooks and diaries, hiding them in dusty shelves? While we eternally hope to get back on them once we're done with our mundane duties.

Like Carl, some of us open these scrapbooks and realize it might not be too late. Take another shot. Begin a new adventure. Go for your dream.

Even if it means doing a radical and unimaginable thing such as tying balloons to a house and flying away. And it is this simple, yet honest premise that won my love for UP.

UP is reminiscent of the rainy day I went home after watching Amelie in UP Film Center. A light-hearted feeling, a renewed vigor, where I see the world in a more colorful, albeit hopeful perspective.

The Old Man and the Stolen Jar

2009-08-21T10:16:00.000-07:00

Word polaroids by Maria Alina Co

The Spark

Lolo Atoy stared straight ahead. His left hand on his chin, sitting on a tattered chair, he looked out the window overlooking the street like a painter eyeing a blank canvas. But unlike a painter who’d see a throng of kids playing kickball under a hot summer sun, Lolo Atoy saw a blanket of nothingness. He did not even notice an eight-year old kid, eyeing him curiously and was inching closer each second. He did not even hear the minutest echo of the boy’s playmates and their incessant jeering.

To most residents of Dahlia street, Lolo Atoy lived like most men his age lived. With arthritic joints and weak spirits, they pressed their backs on the most comfortable beds and chairs, thinking of the past, knowing fully well they did not belong in the present, but fearing what lied ahead. But Nica, Lolo Atoy’s twenty-five year old daughter, knew better. He saw in her father’s tired eyes a hint of a spark, a speck of luminous light that she caught sight of in shadows, in the most unexpected moments, like a sudden reflection from an unknown object that vanishes when you look for its source. She saw in his father not a senile man, but a young boy waiting to be tagged in a hide-and-seek game.

Of course he hadn’t always been this way. There was a time when life flowed in his veins, when his deep chuckles were like ripples that reverberated throughout the town. Five years ago, he won first place at Brgy. Sta. Lucia’s LaLoLa Videoke Challenge, an event organized for senior citizens. His winning piece was Till There Was You sung by the Beatles.

“There were bells on a hill…no, I never heard them at all…’till there was you…”, Lolo Atoy would readily demonstrate his singing prowess to anyone who’d care to listen to his glory days.

“Of course, everyone was surprised to hear I have a great voice all this time. I mean my speaking voice isn’t exactly smooth and you hear me talk most of the time, right?”

Truth is, Lolo Atoy’s singing voice was hoarse and out of tune. But what made him bag the prize was the way he sung the Beatles song. From the stage, he trotted his way to the audience and wooed his wife Lola Felly, a naturally shy and meek lady. It was such a lovely sight as Lola Felly was blushing from ear to ear. At least, they took home a week’s grocery as their prize. That made Lola Felly forgive her husband.

Lolo Atoy was known to have a knack for winning contests. In the toothpaste factory, where he worked for most of his life until his retirement, he was famous for being the most active and participative worker. Why, almost all their appliances at home were just prizes he won from joining contests in company parties! The bread toaster was from his winning as Employee of the Year. The blue electric fan, the washing machine and the coffee maker were from winning raffles in Christmas parties. It was neither luck nor talent. It’s just that Lolo Atoy was game for anything.

But all of that changed when Lola Felly died. Lolo wept and refused to eat for days. He laid on the bed all day, praying and staring at the ceiling. When his sons and daughters went home and tried to talk to him, Lolo Atoy assured them he was okay. But Nica was worried. At night, in his sleep, her father moaned and whimpered over and over again, “Where’s the jar? WHERE IS MY JAR? I told you to keep my jar and now you tell me you forgot where you put it!”

Some nights his voice was clearer – “I’ll just put you in my jar so I will forget. I want to forget. Oh it hurts too much! Hurts like hell!”

Nica didn’t have any idea what jar he was talking about. Rumors spread that Lolo Atoy has money--or even gold—kept at a secret place at home, but unfortunately he forgot about when he turned crazy. Nica searched every nook and cranny of the house but found nothing.

As months passed by, Lolo Atoy’s nightmares and sleep talking episodes became less frequent and eventually stopped.

The Jar of Treasures

For a moment, Kenneth thought Lolo Atoy was looking right at him. Sweating profusely, Kenneth felt his heart jump when Jon-Jon nudged his elbow.

“Hey man, relax! If you want to back out now, you can say so. Only you’ll be branded from now on as an infectious chicken!,” Jon-Jon jeered, as the other kids joined in, laughing.

“No problem, man. I can do this. You sure nobody else is there?” Kenneth wiped the sweat off his forehead, taking a step closer to the house.

“I’m very sure. Ate Nica went off to the market. She won’t be back in an hour, man. Good luck,” Jon-Jon said as he ran back the home base for another round of kickball.

Kenneth just recovered from one whole week of flu. That afternoon he was looking forward to playing kickball and was dismayed to find out that Jon-Jon, the kid bully, had banned him from playing.

He yelled, “Lame losers not allowed here!” The others teased, “Yeah, mate, can’t afford to be infected!” But then his friends Sam and Arman worked out a compromise with the bully. Just a dare, one dare and Kenneth can join.

And so, Kenneth finds himself right at that spot, sneaking his way inside Lolo Atoy’s bungalow. He finds it stupid really. A hidden treasure! What is this, Hiraya Manawari, he thought, mocking the whole idea.

The living room reminded him of his own. It was almost bare, with a pale green linoleum flooring. The sofa did not look comfortable, as it was made of sturdy wood. Newspapers lay scattered on the floor, a half empty coffee cup on the table. Lolo Atoy remained sitting on one corner. Looks like he has nothing to worry about, Kenneth thought. Then he remembered he had no idea where to start looking.

As he tiptoed to the bedrooms though, Kenneth thought he saw a firefly zoom by. But that would be impossible, wouldn’t it? It was two in the afternoon.

There were three rooms ahead. He opened the first one on his right. It was neat, the bed made up, the curtains floral. He opened the door adjacent. Bingo, he thought. The room looked just like it belonged to an old man. Crumpled, dirty white sheets with coffee stains, a cabinet and a wooden chair in front of the window. As Kenneth went straight for the cabinet, it came again—a flash of light. But this time, the strip of light was reflected on his face, like it came from a shard of a mirror. Kenneth felt his hands grow cold, his hair rise as if he had seen a ghost.

The light moved from his face, passed the cabinet, the bare wall, down to the beam where the wall and floor met, and finally, rested on a single tile. Kenneth walked slowly, staring at the tile the light was reflecting. He tugged at the tile, the puffs of ceramics making him cough. Kenneth’s hands were shaking as he moved the tile aside. As he suspected, it was hollow.

Kenneth paused. He glanced at the door, afraid the loud drumming of his heart beat would drown out the sound of Nica’s footsteps. Assured the coast was clear, Kenneth reached inside the hole. He fished out a glass jar, a large and dusty mayonnaise jar. And as he wiped the dust off the jar, Kenneth felt his jaw drop as he saw not money or gold as was the rumor, but lots and lots of trinkets. Red and yellow matchboxes, colorful marbles, greeting cards and gift labels, letters, rubber bands and texts, stones and shells. Kenneth could not believe his eyes! He could only imagine what his friends would say when they find out. But when Kenneth opened the jar’s lid, Kenneth froze as a flash of blinding light overtook him. Was it the end of the world? Did he faint? But if he did, why is he floating in space—a giant lid in his face, except it had ripples and electric sparks. Kenneth screamed as he felt himself being sucked into the lid.

They say when you reach the end, your life flashes back in front of you. But if it Kenneth was indeed dead, then why was the flashback not his? Kenneth becomes Atoy, a thin, fair-skinned boy, playing dampa on the side-walk. He drops his rubber bands when he sees a pretty girl named Felly walking on the street with her mother. Outside a red gate, young Felly accepts a card from Atoy. Outside, Atoy’s friends tease, calling on Atoy to come and play marbles with them. Play first, playboy later! A whiff of floral scent, Atoy smells the pink letter Felly wrote for him—just him! Suddenly, large drops of rain fell. Kenneth was making out the words DEAR ATOY, I AM HAPPY YOU--- but all the words became wet blurs. Was it tears in Kenneth’s eyes or was it the rain? It made no difference as Kenneth breathed deeply for a final blow—he felt a strong tug as he was pulled into a dark hole.

The Boy Waiting to be Found

Nica walked as fast as she could. Holding four full bags of grocery was no easy feat for a girl her size. As she turned the corner to the gate, she almost dropped them when she collided with a kid named Kenneth.

“What are you doing here, boy?”

“Sorry, I—we—the ball fell here, I just got the b-ball,” Kenneth nervously explained, his hands clutching an inflated volleyball.

“All right. Go play!”

“I’d like to help you with those,” Kenneth offered. Nica handed him over all the bags.

In the living room, Nica kissed his father. “Hi Pop! How are you? How’s daydreaming? Been to Neverland?”

Lolo Atoy responded by turning his head and staring. Nica was pleasantly surprised, warm at the thought of her father finally recognizing or at the least acknowledging her. But then she realized her father wasn’t looking at her—he was staring right at Kenneth.

“Oh, it’s just Kenneth, Pop. He’s one of the kids playing outside, you know, the kids you’ve been staring at all day.”

Kenneth stared back, then regained his composure. “How are you, Lolo Atoy?” Lolo Atoy merely stared back in response, but Kenneth saw the slightest, disapproving frown.

Kenneth waved goodbye and went back to play kickball. It was his turn now. Jon-jon jeered, “Hey loser, you’re not supposed to play! You lost! You didn’t get the treasure!”

Kenneth looked at Jon-Jon sharply--“I score a home run, then I can pull your shorts down!”

“No way you’re going to do that, lame ass!”

Poised on the home base, Kenneth flexed his leg. He knew he could do this. He’d always won. Goodness, he knows how to kick the ball to the next village! Kenneth’s kick was so strong the ball flew all the way to Tramo, an eskinita perpendicular to their street.

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!,” Kenneth howled as he ran back to the home base. Sam and Arman started to tease, “Shorts down, Jon-Jon! Shorts down, Jon-Jon!” But the defeated kid bully suddenly ran away.

“Yeah, go home kiddo, cry to mommy!”

Lolo Atoy has never felt this free. It’s good to be back, he thought, as Sam and Arman gave him high fives. Here’s to winning again and again and again! And living life one more time!

Lolo Atoy glanced back at his former lifeless body, staring out the window. And he knew his daughter was right all along. The old man was not a senile man. Just a young boy waiting to be found.

(Notes from the author: this is my first draft. I will revise this asap! And include better pictures! Thanks for reading!)

No Reservations

2009-08-17T21:22:00.000-07:00

Words by Maria Alina Co

What were three true-blooded Manilenas without any camping skills thinking when they decided to go to an island called Anawangin?

By word of mouth, the small, uninhabited island is fast becoming a camping Mecca for mountaineers. But for most city dwellers, they just could not resist Anawangin’s mystery. With no hotels, no electricity, no air-conditioning, no bars, no internet, novelty for them is the greatest adventure. Not knowing what to expect, three girls headed out to Zambales one Friday morning, with luggage fit for an airport’s. Will handsome Leonardo di Caprio appear and hand over a secret map to “The Beach”? Will they befriend a volleyball with eyes and mouth just like in “Castaway”? I assure you it was nothing like that. I should know, because I was one of them.

No Reservations

After four hours of dreamless sleep aboard an Iba Zambales bus, we were finally roused by the conductor’s yelling “San Antonio!” From there, we were to get a tricycle to Pundaquit, where we could rent a boat to Anawangin. Being the Boracay-going gals that we were, we felt excited, curious and nervous all at the same time. And then it hit us—all these were just improvisations. Just some instructions we got online from a blogger we don’t even know. Waves of doubt splashed our minds—come to think of it, we didn’t even have reservations!

But off we went to meet the waves and explore the sea. We were island hopping! For anyone who has taken a vacation in Pundaquit, Zambales, the locals offer island hopping in a small boat that can accommodate at least four people for only P800. The route covers three islands— Camara, Capones and Anawangin and is inclusive of a ride back to Pundaquit.

Camara, the nearest island from Pundaquit shores, is a very small isle with a rocky shore and white sand. There’s nothing much to do there but just lay down on a mattress and bask in the sun. It’s also perfect for picnic with friends and family. The next stop is Capones, where you can trek to the Spanish lighthouse. The walk is worth the sweat as the lighthouse is breathtaking. Try talking to the construction guys there and they’d lead you to the best and safest place to take pictures of the lighthouse. Plus they’d give you a healthy dose of travel tips and trivia.

The last stop, Anawangin was the biggest finale. When we arrived there at noon, the sun was high, the sand powdery white and the beach crystal clear blue. Around us were not coconut trees as was the usual, but pine trees! Lots and lots of them! The beauty of it all was too overwhelming that we didn’t notice right away that we were the only tourists there, aside from the caretakers who lived at the nearby nipa hut. After setting up our tent and stove, we ran around, explored and swam to our heart’s content! It was the most peaceful I’ve felt over the last few years. Dipping my head in the water, I told myself—this is the place to be, this island is ours.

That is, until the next day.

Anawangin Tips and Must- Haves

Mornings are pure paradisiacal, but evenings at Anawangin can be quite harsh. Especially when you’re amateur campers like us.

When the sun went down, the island was literally black, with just a speck of stars above. Our large heavy–duty flashlight might have come in handy, except that my friend found out it was on the whole time. It blinked for a second and then the charge was out. So we had to resort to scented candles my other friend brought.

Needless to say, bring lots of flashlights and batteries. Also, the mountain mosquitoes consider us a delicacy, so at nighttime, it’s a must to use a mosquito repellant.

The best about the island is the sense of peace and isolation. But Saturday morning, we woke up to the sound of around fifty people setting up their tents, some very close to ours. So I would recommend a weekday trip, instead of weekends to have the island all for your selves. You can choose between two sides of the island. They only charge entrance fees per day of your stay: on the left is P100 per head and on your right is P50 per head. All I know is that the on the P100 side, there are fewer campers and the restroom’s better.

To survive an over night stay or more in Anawangin, make sure you load up on all the essentials: food and water. For food, it’s best to bring a mini stove, a pot for rice and a pan for the dishes. The key word is canned goods: tuna, corned beef, spam, sardines, all kinds for more variety. For snacks, bring bread and spreads, biscuits and chips. In San Antonio, there are convenience stores where you can buy gallons of water and all the other needs you forgot to buy from the city.

Once you’re in the island, forget your cell phones. There’s not even half of a single signal there. So before you say goodbye to your boatman, tell him the exact date and time you plan to go home.

For you sanitary needs, water is pumped from a nearby poso. You can bring buckets of water to take a bath in a restroom made of bamboo sticks. There’s also a toilet and you can use the rooms to change clothes, if not your tent.

I’m a Survivor!

An adventure in Anawangin is not for the faint-hearted. If you plan to go there, be ready to get down and dirty.

Manilenas that we are, we’re proud to say we survived three days and two nights in a mysterious island, far away from civilization. And besides the island’s beauty, it’s the uncertainty, the journey to the unknown that made all the difference. Reservations are no good in Anawangin. Just pure guts and adventurism.

Somewhat Reddish, Rough on the Edges

2009-06-27T10:30:00.000-07:00

Somewhat Reddish, Rough on the Edges
(word polaroids by Maria Alina Co)
(aimless writing collection)

Recently, for some unknown reason, a vision of a red table popped like a bubble inside my head.

It was somewhat like looking at a familiar face beaming at you in the middle of a crowd. You squint and stare, but couldn’t quite place the face. Or if you have one of those memory jars, where all sorts of memory things are cramped inside, swimming, waiting to be fished out.

I didn’t fish the table out. It managed to pop out of the lid and reveal itself in its full form.

Days before my eighth birthday, my eldest brother Kuya Ariel was cooking something up. I didn’t know for sure, but I knew it had something to do with one of his construction workers, a carpenter, who sneaked in and out of the back of our house.

Kuya was just a starting contractor then. He borrowed a lot of money from my Auntie Bebe, and then some from my Mother’s amigas to make his own construction company. I remember a lot of wood and metal scraps, small mounds of cement lying around our garage. I also remember hushed angry voices and painful tears echoing inside the four walls of our bungalow. It was the eighth time my daddy quit his job. And days before my birthday, when he swore he’ll never work a day again.

The day of my birthday, I had a small party. My guests were just three—Dorothy, my bus mate, Ida and Kathrina, my classroom buddies.

After I blew the birthday cake candles, Kuya took my hand and led me to my room (which I shared with mommy and ate). At the leftmost corner, leaning on a wall, was a large wooden study table, and scandalously red—thick red, with a rough texture. It’s the kind we doodled in drawing assignments in grade school. Rectangular, with four squat red legs. A red chair stood empty in front of the table, as if beckoning me to sit. Kuya’s chinky eyes were unusually large and misty. Beaming proudly, he kissed me on my forehead and said, “Ok ba Mylene?”

I sat on my new red chair and traced the edges of the table. Rough on the edges, it had wooden splinters that somehow escaped turning red. I nudged on the red drawer, which made an awful scraping sound.

“Diyan puwede ka maglagay ng books, notebooks, crayons, papel-- kasya lahat diyan,” Kuya explained.

I glanced at my three guests, who looked blankly at Kuya’s surprise. They weren’t impressed. I planted a quick kiss to Kuya’s cheek and uttered my thank you.

Over the next days, the red table stood empty, save for a picture frame my mom put there. I didn’t dare place my things inside the drawer. I was afraid the splinters would come alive and poke its spikes on my things.

Kuya checked on me almost every day. But most of the time, I was lying on our bed while doing my assignments. He’d say, “Kaya ko nga binigay sa’yo yan para diyaan ka mag-aaral.” I’d obey grudgingly.

Until one day, Kuya Ariel slammed our door open, his face red with anger. In his hand was my report card, line of sevens floating in red ink.

“Mylene, ano ‘to??? Paliwanag mo kung bakit ganito grades mo!” I blushed, but said coolly, “Bakit ka nagagalit? Si Mommy at Daddy nga hindi galit. Kuya lang naman kita ha.”

Wordlessly, Kuya grabbed all the books and notebooks on my bed and threw them on the ugliest piece of furniture in the room.

I was dazed and confused. Biting my lip, I began to weep.

When Kuya finally stormed out, I fixed the mess on the red table, muttering under my breath, “I hate you, you ugly thing!” I kicked the table with all the strength I had left, but I ended up hurting my foot instead. Besides being sore, splinters poked out of my toes. So the red table found a way to retaliate after all. I guess it hated me too.

At the end of the school year, the red table vanished. I think it must have been the middle of our fourth quarter periodical exams when one day, I went home to find our room suddenly spacious. The red table was gone.

I told you a while ago about my memory jar (which is large, glassy and transparent, like an old-fashioned mayonnaise container without the label). I put memories I’d rather forget inside this jar. I know now why I chose to forget the red table.

One day, mommy told me the truth. “Mylene, you should know, your dad no longer pays for your tuition, Si Kuya mo na nagbabayad, installments, since your daddy lost his job. So try to understand na lang why he’ s very concerned with your grades. He only wants the best for you.”

That moment, my heart must have stopped, the world must have turned dark. Guilt seeped in, wave after wave after wave. I would have placed myself inside my jar if I could, and wallowed in shame, together with my old forgotten things forever.

But there was only one thing I had to do. Repent. And so I did with all the love and kindness I could give. Every day, I thank God for blessing me such a wonderful, loving brother.

My Kuya paid for my education from grade school all the way to college. More than my school necessities, he provided my family a few luxurious things. He bought us a brand new PC, a car, a huge LCD TV. Yearly, he shopped new clothes for me. In high school, when Birkenstock was the “in” thing, he bought me an imitation in Itti (Birks was way too expensive). He bought me my very own Swatch, Sanrio things, Nike rubber shoes, my ball dress, Guess jeans, Giordano shirts, name it.

But never a rough-edged, red study table again.

I can only imagine now what happened to the red table. Perhaps, the construction worker chopped it in pieces and used it for a construction project.

Or made fire out of the table’s four legs.

Maybe Kuya gave it to a charity organization, where a kid used it to know her ABCs and 123s.

These days, its redness pales in my mind. But I can still feel it today—the rough edges of its rectangular glory. I trace it again and again, my fingers never bleeding, loving its roughness.

Maria Alina Co, 25, graduated magna cum laude and best thesis from the University of the Philippines, Diliman, with a Film and Audio-Visual Communication degree. She is now a TV Network Executive Producer and a part-time magazine writer and voice-over talent. This year, she is taking her Master’s degree in Media Studies in Ateneo.

Frank Oz and Bowfinger

2009-06-21T11:23:00.000-07:00

When Bowfinger premiered way back in 1999, I must have been asleep, too busy, or just a sore plain loser. I never got the chance to watch this comedy.

It wasn't only until 10 years later, while my boyfriend and I were burying our heads in DVD racks in Metrowalk, that I was introduced to Bowfinger.

"Napanood mo na 'yan? Maganda 'yan," Sam recommended.

I wasn't that convinced so he bought the DVD for me. Looking at the tagline "The Con is On", I thought it was one of those Mafia-type comedy films I've grown tired of. Unenthusiastically, I poised myself on the sofa, as Sam pressed play and the usual opening title cards rolled on.

But at the start of the film, at the moment when Bobby Bowfinger set up a meeting with his two actors and said, "We are making a movie!", I knew I misjudged it.

Bobby Bowfinger, a small-time, almost non-existent filmmaker nearing forty, is desperate to make his feature film. So when an accountant-turned writer Akhmid pens "Chubby Rain", a science fiction script that ends with the protagonist screaming to the aliens above, "Gotcha Suckas!", Bowfinger gathered his team of small-time actors and crew to make his dreams come true.

The first and obvious thing to do is to convince a hot shot Hollywood Producer to produce the film and get a hot shot Hollywood actor in it. Expectedly, the Producer (Robert Downey Jr.) turned him down, and the egoistic top actor Kit Ramsey kicked him out of his car.

But Bowfinger had a brilliant idea-- shooting the film, without Kit Ramsey knowing he's in it! The ultimate guerilla shooting.

That easy?

What followed are a series of hilarious puns and antics. Kit Ramsey (played by Eddie Murphy) was sort of a wacko and did have fantasies of aliens and stuff. It was fun seeing Bowfinger's crew stalking him and following him around with a hidden camera.

Bowfinger also poked fun on Hollywood stereotypes. Heather Graham's character, for example, is portrayed as the quintessential naive girl from Ohio who arrives in Los Angeles, expecting to become a star over night, a girl who sleeps her way around to get to the top.

Kit Ramsey, the hot shot actor, is the typical Hollywood male star with a big ego.

And Bowfinger? Well, I just love his character here. He's a lovable loser. He's desperate, broke, not to mention a poor taste for scripts (I mean, Chubby Rain is a senseless, B movie!) But I feel for him. He just loves what he does and will do everything to finally make his movie. He's an underdog, but anyone will root for him. Yes, he lied to his crew, but he only did that, because he did not want to disappoint them.

Bowfinger was directed by Frank Oz, whom I find out, after googling, is actually a famous voice actor and puppeteer.

He's the voice of Miss Piggy, Grover, Fozzie Bear, Animal and Sam the Eagle in the Muppet Show. In Sesame Street, he gave life to Cookie Monster and Bert-- my favorite Sesame Street characters.

In Star Wars, he's loveable and wisdom-filled Yoda. And it was Oz's idea to reverse Yoda's grammatical sentences, from verb to subject (ex. Disappointed, you were!).

Frank Oz is also the Director of Indian in the Cupboard and the remake of Stepford Wives.

Frank Oz and Bowfinger- definitely two firsts for me. This is the first time I knew of a Film Director, who's also a Puppeteer and Voice Actor. And, my first time to mark a comedy film as one of my favorites (I'm the type that usually goes for drama and dark stories)

Anyone who hasn't watched this yet? You like hilarious laughs one after another? Or perhaps, you're like me, an independent small-time filmmaker desperate to make a movie. You'll love Bowfinger!

MAIDEN

2009-06-01T11:44:00.001-07:00

word polaroids by Maria Alina Co

It was twelve midnight when Sol started kissing me.

I know I cannot be precise, with all the alcohol that swirled in my head and the smoke that clung to the ceiling last night. But it just felt like twelve o’ clock.

And when he started tugging on my blouse, I was surprised to feel…well, surprised. As if it was my first time. Of course, it wasn’t. Sol and I, we’ve done it in 1993, thirty-two years ago, and I can be precise on this.

I had met him in an elevator in one of the few buildings in Ortigas, boasting of high tech doors, shiny windows and modern elevators. He had always pressed number 9, while I stayed behind for the 10th floor. He had the crispiest suite, the tidiest lump of thick hair held by a fragrant gel. His nose was as forward as his posture. But what I found sexiest was when he cleared his throat. He did this all the time, thrusting his flexed palm above his mouth, just before stepping out of ninth floor.

And exactly 6 o’ clock in the evening yesterday, I heard that same clearing of throat. Only it was gruff, husky, the kind an old man gets when he’s either too tired to smoke, or too much smoking made him tired.

I was one step out of the mall clutching two plastic bags of grocery, just enough for my week’s needs when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the gesture. But the tight flexing wasn’t there any more. It was a weak, withered hand of a 60-year old man. Sol was one step into the mall when I shouted his name, “Solomon Cruz!”

I was happy to see him, of course. God, thirty-two years and I haven’t heard anything from him! The last time I heard he still worked in that damn advertising office, and rode that same elevator six days a week. And the last time he heard of me was that I had two new things or events in my life. I had a new boyfriend, who was a film director and a new job as Production Manager in a commercials production.

“You still look beautiful,” he told me this while I was about to drink from my cup in Willy’s coffee shop in Alimall. I was blushing terribly behind my cup--I drank a lot in one gulp. “You look good too,” I said, drinking in his now thinner and definitely whiter hair. Sol smiled, it hasn’t changed a bit. The same cute crumpling beside the edges of both eyes. He is an attractive old man, all right.

Then came the topic I always expected would be raised. I’m not irritated with it. It’s just that I’ve been through this question before, and I’m tired of saying my usual answer, which is exactly this: “Well, it just happened. Or rather, didn’t happen. I was happy with my life, skipping boyfriends as I would stones. Plus I had other things in my mind. My career, my dreams. And I was forgetting it, delaying it year after year, when suddenly I found myself like this: beautiful and single.” This statement is guaranteed to elicit light-hearted laughter from a listener. But this time, I was determined to respond differently.

“Why didn’t you,” I asked back. Sol’s eye crumples smoothed, lost in thought. Finally he answered, looking straight into my eyes, “Well, I met a woman who broke my heart. And I wasn’t able to get over.” I slapped him gently on his shoulder, “Oh Sol! The truth!”

Laughing, he said, “Ay I’m just too tired answering the truth. Well, I guess I delayed marrying one girl after another, until marriage passed me by. Sad truth noh? How about you?”

I struggled for an answer. Until finally from the farthest corner of my mind, I grabbed a line I must have gotten from a movie. “I guess it’s single-blessedness for me.” Sol smiled at this, content with my answer.

Our conversation was going well, really well. Turns out he’s still working part time in a car company as Sales Consultant. He quit his job in 9th floor shortly after I quit mine. He was surprised when I told him I just retired.

“Why? I don’t mean anything, Lucllle. It’s just that I saw you’re the type who wouldn’t stop working until you die,” he said, turning the corner to Kamias road. We were inside his car by this time after I invited him over for a decent dinner. I didn’t see any wrong in this. After all, we are already adults, and even way beyond that.

“I guess I got…tired. It was really hectic, the PM position. Before I left, the place was crawling with new graduates and young people with two years experience. Believe me, I was the oldest there!”

“So what do you do now?”

I told him I basically did what I wanted to do, what I thought I was left to do. I read all the books I didn’t read before – self-help books I never read while working, surreal, magical realist books, books about and for women, interior design books, the history books I skipped in college, even novels that I skipped in high school (I resorted to summary books). And yeah, I read and enjoy Harry Potter. When I paused, we were already sitting in my sala by this time, I looked at his expectant face. I resumed: I also write. What else? I take my time in everything, taking a bath, sipping my iced tea outside during a hot afternoon. My buying habits also changed. Like for example, in buying a new pan, it’d take me one week or more!

Sol was laughing, but it wasn’t tainted with mockery. Later, after a dinner of beef and mushroom and mashed potatoes, he confessed he laughed because he can relate with me. We were sharing a bottle when he spoke up. His tone was different, deep and smoky, as if it a strange sound bouncing on my living room’s walls.

“I know what you mean when you take time buying your pan.” I asked him how so.

“It’s like this. When we were young, we try to make things fast. We were all excited and hurrying to grow up, graduate, work, make money. We have hot asses from too much stress, too much…hurrying up. We wanted promotion, we wanted success, a new car, everything, we wanted all the pans!” Sol was gesturing with his hands, his right hand swinging, stressing words here and there. He didn’t have this gesture back in the 9th floor.

“…We hurry to have boyfriends, girlfriends. We wish to stretch the years automatically to get married. We wanted it all, successful families. But then, look at us now, suddenly things are just slow…we want them slow.”

And I couldn’t have agreed more. For a moment, he seemed as if he wanted to add something more. Instead, he searched for something in the pocket of his pants. It was a pack of cigarettes.

“Do you mind,” he asked. I said no, and asked for a stick as well.

Me and Sol, we didn’t run out of conversation. Yes, there were pauses, a second or two. But they never lasted. We always thought of something. Mostly, we talked about his and my former officemates in in 9th and 10th floors. What happened to Tina, a copywriter then, whom they secretly called Tinae for her shitty copies? Did Elaine and Bert marry? Is it true Mr. Jerome Remulla, a manager then, is a registered nurse now in the U.S.? Who are the deceased? Who “died” in the advertising industry?

By this time, I was dizzy. My eyesight was blurred both with tears from too much laughter and too much smoke. I hardly saw Sol sitting beside me, shaking with laughter. He was still in a shaking state when he posed the most serious question of the night, a question that poked me then and is still stinging me now.

“Lucille…don’t you get lonely sometimes?”

The clouds of tears blocking my view suddenly parted. I tried absorbing the question, which ended up a new version in my mind. Am I lonely?

“I am. I live alone. ‘Course I am.” Suddenly, I felt the cloud of tears forming again. My eyes hurt, and my chest welled up with a stinging pain that rose up to my throat and caused me to sob horribly. “I am, I am,” I said.

I told you before, I felt it was twelve midnight when he kissed me. It was dark in the living room, with only a single yellow lamp lighted beside me. The air tasted like twelve o’ clock. Sol planted at first a soft kiss on my cheek, then another, then another. I kissed him back, my wet face pressed into his. The pain in my chest welled. Suddenly, I thought of a house, a two-storey house, with me and Sol in the foreground. Sol kept on kissing my face, until my lips gravitated towards his. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he kissed me back. In my mind, there’s a kid on the porch, perhaps two. Two cars in the garage, three maids in uniforms. Sol’s embrace made me think of the interior of the house. It was warm, big and lonely at the same time. And perhaps old. Old. The word lingered in my mind as Sol pressed his body on top of me. He was surprisingly light, lighter than he was thirty-two years ago.

I was caressing his back as he tugged on my blouse. I felt awkward, tugging his shirt back. Instead, I touched his face. I was trying to get a grip of myself, wondering how sex at the age of fifty-eight would feel like my first time, when I felt a twisted pain on my back.

“Aaawwww….” I grimaced. Sol kept his body pressed on me, kissing my neck.

“Sol, Sol, I have a p-pain, cramps…”

Sol stopped, raised his head and looked at my face, contorted with pain. “I’m sorry, “ he muttered under his breath.

He stood up suddenly, smoothed the crumples of his shirt. His eye crumples was extra smooth as well, lost in deep thought. I massaged my aching back, whispering, “I’m sorry, Sol. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Luce. Your back okay now?”

“Umm…hurts a bit.”

Sol took me in his arms and carried me. “Where to?” he asked. I pointed to an oak door ahead.

I smiled up to him, “thank you. You don’t have to do this.” He slowly placed me on my bed. Sol looked down on my miserable mass of a body, a former sex goddess-turned-old spinster. Oh…but his eyes were sweet, caring, I knew this in the back of my mind.

“Good night, Luce. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Before stepping out of the room, I heard it. The sexiest sound—Sol’s clearing of his throat.

Now that’s taking everything slow, even in this, I thought before dozing off to sweet slumber.

#

Take the Lead the AYLC Way

2009-06-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

(This feature article was published in Hinge Inquirer's Dasmariñas Gazette for their Graduation Edition)

Take the Lead the AYLC Way
By Maria Alina Co

So you’re a year away from getting that ultimate college diploma. Inevitably, that means you’re about to embark and take on the world very very soon.

The mere thought of it gives you the jitters. Never mind that your internship keeps reminding you of that impending doom. If only you can be Hiro Nakamura for just a second and have the power to stop time, you would.

But nothing can prepare you more for the “real world” than this existing program in the Philippines, created for young college students like you. If you have what it takes, that is.

The AYLC Way

The Ayala Youth Leaders’ Congress or AYLC is a yearly summit that brings together promising students leaders from colleges and universities from all over the country. The congress proper is a three-day event involving workshops, lectures, outdoor activities designed to hone students’ leadership skills and potentials.

Shaping tomorrow’s leaders, AYLC has been honing and supporting student leaders for over a decade.

Ever heard of the phrase “It’s not what you know, but who you know”? JQ Quesada, Manager of Ayala Youth Development Unit, is convinced it’s both.

“The AYLC serves as a platform for young leaders to interact and network with fellow leaders. It opens a network to our alumni, and even to friends, the chance to find connections that will help them realize their leadership goals.”

But, better be warned, Ayala Youth is not looking for someone who’s all As and perfect attendance. More than a good academic performance, an Ayala Youth candidate is someone who has a track record of committed service and leadership involvement.

A Good Leader

So, you up for the AYLC challenge? You want to lead? First know what it takes to be a good leader.

“In our present society, there is a great need for leaders with integrity, who stand for clear values and purpose, and who is able to elicit the trust of those he/she serves…we need leaders today who stand for something—values, principles, dreams and advocacies—and who fight to make change happen.” – JQ Quesada, Manager

“A good leader is someone who can empathize with his/her people. Someone who can relate to them but knows when to draw the line between office and non-office relations.” – Dang Victor, 22, Sports Writer-Producer

“A good leader is one who isn't afraid to make the tough decisions, even the unpopular ones. The mark of a good leader is when they display strength that others can draw from” – Vitto Lazatin, Media Marketing Officer

“He/she must have the knack of making people listen to him because it's hard to take charge when the people aren't paying attention to you; He/she must be open-minded and not biased towards him/herself. That means he/she is not a tyrant, meaning hindi niya ine-expect na siya lagi masusunod.”—Krista Pedroso, 20 yrs. old

“A good leader is flexible and has balance. He can balance between reaching the goals of the team, at the same time thinking of what’s good for them. Kailangan yung may paninindigan sa tao, walang iwanan, walang laglagan.”—Armi Rae Cacanindin, 24, Film Practitioner

Conquer the World No More

So if you think you have what it takes, take the lead. One year is enough time to hone that leadership potential in you. Rather than conquering the world, try changing it for a “change”. It doesn’t have to be that big a difference.

JQ emphasizes, “Many graduates first think of flocking to Manila, to areas with more opportunities. But one thing we tell our young leaders is to give back to their communities first. Use their knowledge and skills to improve lives of their community.”

*To know more about AYLC, visit http://www.ayalayoungleaders.ph/.

ANVAYA COVE

2009-06-01T11:30:00.000-07:00

(This is one of my articles that got published in Hinqe-Inquirer Magazine)

ENDLESS SUMMERS IN ANVAYA COVE
By Maria Alina Co

We dream of endless summers—of rolling hills, of bamboo trees undulating and mango trees heavy with fruit. Beautiful sunsets, breathtaking sunrises. Picture-perfect moments with loved ones. The undiluted pleasure of lying on the sand while gazing at the mesmerizing horizon, where mountain meets the sea.
Every so often, we city dwellers take a break from the rat race, pack our bags, and take a holiday in some patch of paradise. But it is usually just a respite and we have to go back – aaarghh – to run the race again, back to the traffic and the pollution. How often do we wish the idyllic holiday would go on and on. For we can dream can’t we?

But dreams are not that impossible.

The Perfect Home
Avaya Cove, Ayala Land’s first venture in leisure development, is the fulfillment of that dream. It is a residential community at Morong Bataan amidst a resort setting just two and a half hours drive from Manila. Only 20 minutes away from Subic Bay Freeport, Anvaya Cove is an accessible escape from the polluted metropolis.
And a breath-taking escape it is, being both a mountain retreat and a seaside resort. Living there, one can savor nature as its most majestic and its most pristine while enjoying modern amenities and yes, almost endless summers.
As everyone looks forward to a great summer, Anvaya Cove gives the season an extra spice with its latest offering—The Beach and Nature Club.

Amenities and More
The Beach and Nature Club gives its members unlimited access to the Main Pavilion boasting of a bamboo café, a wine room, a sambali lounge, function rooms and game rooms.

For ultimate soothing and relaxation, city-dwellers can ease their worries away with Veda Spa and Beach Massage Salas.
Sports-minded individuals can while their time away in the Recreational Beach Area, which offers various water sports. For the more adventurous, the Nature Camp has zip lines, rope courses, ecological trails, and camping and picnic grounds.
Kids can frolic in the Sea Horse Kiddie Village, with a Kiddie Pool, and a Children’s Arts and Activity Play Center.

But for those who just want to hang out and have a classy good time, the Beach Cabanas, Pawikan Bar and Grille, the Lagoon, the Tower and Tower Bar are among their choices.

Perfect Fusion
With its vast terrain and breath-taking view, Anvaya promises to be the perfect fusion—a leisure club, a beach house and a dream haven all combined.
And yes, summer can go on and on in Anvaya…

(Visit www.anvayacove.com.ph for more details)

The Big Dilemma

2009-05-20T10:41:00.000-07:00

The Big Dilemma

There are times, I am firm and sure I will resign, I am leaving my work in Premium at the soonest possible time. As in I cannot wait! Now na! But there are times I want to stay, I feel I am compelled to stay. I have to stay.

This will be the first time in my kuwentotkuwenta blog to talk about work directly. I believed it’s senseless to rant about work— I mean, it’s something that you do 90 % of the time. Blogging is like a release where you can explore another world, be a different person, at least sounding like one on random pages in cyberspace. But this time, I’ll let it go.

Despite me endlessly ranting about hating the Job order system, saying that satisfying clients’ happiness is not at all fulfilling, I would be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t enjoy Premium. Why? I got the best of both worlds – both Sports and Entertainment. In Solar, it’s either you’re in one. But me, I’m in both and have learned the systems, the ins and outs of both worlds.

In Premium, I got to meet everyone, as in EVERYONE! Every day, I get to interact with various colleagues from ALMOST ALL DEPARTMENTS in Solar. Whether it be interacting with the EPs in Antipolo (saan mang channel ‘yan), coordinating with Sales, Marketing and Programming people (Sports o Entertainment), the ETC, BTV, 2nd ave, Jack TV, Solar Sports, CS Origin, CS 9, Sci Fi switchers, TOC staff for the NBA/boxing feed, Traffic teams in Antipolo (Kuya Tolayts, naingest po ba lahat) and Makati (Kuya Nap, Tita Mel, pareho ba tayo ng asset code), Graphics Artists in Antipolo, Library (Ed-Gur! Sige na, pa-pull out na ng tapes!), the Requisition department (Ms Malou, Sir Ramir!), Ms Marivic/Kuya Edmund for the tapes, all the loving crew in Antipolo, and of course, the crazy people in Premium department—the largest, most diverse production team in Solar!

Haaaay…..it’s one hell of a roller coaster ride every day. Parang nakaka-hyper na ewan. And believe me, there are times I get the high out of all the kangaragan. And though I sometimes feel my mind doesn’t stop ticking all the time, as long as things are smooth, I feel very content and happy. And I feel happier when one of my staff does a job well done, (Uy ang ganda ng plug! Uy, ang galing, natuwa client! Uy umabot ang premiums sa Live NBA kanina! Walang sabit!)it’s as if I’ve received manna straight from heaven!

These are the reasons why it’s hard for me to let go. ‘Cause there are still these moments, these beautiful moments that sometimes are enough for me to stay—even if I am overworked and underpaid, I don’t mind. I was never the type to value money over fulfillment.

But there are times I just want to drop dead and make the run to the fire exit and disappear- A.S.A.P.!

Sometimes, I think the work in Premium’s as impossible as running from Makati uphill to Antipolo in just 30 minutes! As if fulfillment and perfection are miles and miles away, lost in a misty fog on a rainy afternoon in Antipolo.

There are times I feel so frustrated with people and why can’t they just have done right. Or why can’t they be the best?

For a time, I refused to give up on some people in Premium. I thought, if I can just push them an inch or two, or push them harder, perhaps even hurting them in the process, they will change for the better. But when I wasn’t giving up, I was so unhappy. I end up going home every day, defeated, disappointed. And when I finally gave up, I ended up not caring. But that was not the right thing to do, I know. Funny thing is, when I didn’t care, I was in a state of bliss. Ignorance or blindness is bliss, they say. So until now, I still care.

But God is good. There are people who kept me going. Yung mga sobrang sipag, sobrang dedicated sa work. Na napabilib ako even for a short time. Yung mga hindi ko inakala, pero ang gagaling pala. These are the people –the reasons why I find it hard to leave.

Every time I made a decision to finally resign, I think of them and I suddenly hesitate. Worst of all, change my mind.

Cause these are the people worth fighting for. The very same people I will fight for until the end. Kahit pa-hitman pa ko ng mga nagje-JO….hehehhe… I wouldn’t even care. If I’d have to wait for years to have their salaries increased (and mine too), I wouldn’t care…. Because I would have known, this is my team. Walang bibitaw, sabay-sabay tayong aangat. Kahit bumagyo ng JOs, we will stand still kasi magagaling tayo, kaya natin ‘yan.

Sadly, though, there are only a few of these people.

So, yeah, for the record, I’m straightening it out. I wanted and have been planning to resign not because Premium curtails my creative freedom (this is just one of my rants pero ito nilagay ko sa resignation letter ko), but because of these people not worth fighting for…yung mga pinapabayaang nangangarag na mga kateammates nila, tapos sila they’re just chilling, hanging, pulling the team down… and because of the people (outside our department) who, up to now, do not understand the workings of Production , who has the impression pumepetiks ang ibang tao sa Premium, when in fact eh namamatay na nga sa kakatrabaho….yung hindi marurunong umintindi…

Again, I hold no grudges to anyone. I regret nothing. In being chosen as EP of Premium , I am forever grateful and honored. No job could have given me the most extreme experiences in my working life. In a short time, ang dami kong natutunan….

So, there, my BIG DILEMMA.

Should I stay or should I go?

Should I wait for my replacement? Sinong papalit sa akin? (sana yung taga-Production at hindi marketing/sales side kasi kawawa ang premium kung ganun) Should I wait na ma-assure ako may maayos ako na kapalit bago ako umalis?

When I re-apply in my previous department (CS 9), will things change? Will I be happier, more fulfilled? Am I really cut out to be an EP yet? Or am I much too passionate? Too young? Too naïve?

After weighing all the factors, do I still have a reason to stay?

Have I given up?

Do I still have a reason to stay?

Is it time to give up?

The ONLY and not the RIGHT Person

2009-03-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

I re-read one of my favorite books-- PATCHWORK PLANET by Anne Tyler.

I really love this particular novel of hers. Besides being well-written, this simple tale about the life of black sheep and average guy Barnaby really gets to me. Barnaby's like a neighbor I know, or a brother I was supposed to have.

I'd like to share a good passage from the novel.

Short background: Barnaby's a former village trouble-maker for stealing precious things and whatnot from affluent neighbors. What's ironic is that he comes from a rich family himself, whose father is a well-known charitable man of the Gaitlin Foundation. He married Natalie at a young age and didn't finish college. They have kid named Opal, but they eventually divorce. The novel picks up from when Barnaby was already 30 years old, with a new girlfriend Sophia. He's working as a hired help for Rent-a-Back.

(Patchwork Planet, page 218- 219)

Oh, once upon a time I'd had all I could ask for: a home, a loving wife, a little family of my own. A place in the world. How could I have thrown that away?

At Rent-a-back, I knew couples who'd been married almost forever-- forty, fifty, sixty years. Seventy-two, on one case. They'd be tending each other's illnesses, filling in each other's faulty memories, dealing with the money troubles or the daughter's suicide, or the grandson's drug addiction. And I was beginning to suspect that it made no difference whether they'd married the right person. Finally, you're just with who you're with. You've signed on with her, put in half a century with her, grown to know her as well as you know yourself or even better, and she's become the right person. Or the only person, might be more to the point.

I wish someone had told me that earlier. I'd have hung on then; I swear I would. I never would have driven Natalie to leave me.

--

This is a new point-of-view to me. How many people tell us "darating din ang tamang tao para sa'yo"?

When the truth is, there is no right person. Even if you're the most incompatible couple, it doesn't matter.

What matters is the journey you spend together and how somewhere, along the way, he/she hecomes the ONLY PERSON.

Wala lang. Ang ganda. Nakatuwa. :-D

SlumDog Millionaire

2009-03-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

SlumDog Millionaire was nominated for 10 Academy Awards and won 8, including Best Picture and Best Director. This, despite being a seeming underdog, in a Hollywood world of big stars.

How did they do it?

A. It's another one of those poverty stories. Thus, there's the human interest element in it.
B. America wanted to look like it's actually caring for the Third World.
C. Danny Boyle is a great director.
D. It is the best.

The movie started with a similar question: how did Jamal Malik, a street kid from the slums managed to be one question away from winning 20,000,000 rupees in Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Did he cheat? Was he lucky, a genius? Or because it is written.

That simple, yet stark question transports us to the sullied, rough streets of Mumbai, made more brutal with its desolate parallelism with the bright lights of the television studio.

Jamal and older brother Salim are far from having a charmed life. When their mother dies during a Hindu versus Islam attack, Jamal and Salim had no choice but to fend for themselves, adding to the already big statistic of homeless, street kids in India. Together with the "third musketeer" Latika, they face the harsh realities of being orphans in Mumbai.

And Slum Dog millionaire serves the harshness hot, fresh and guileless. From falling into the hands of gangsters to beg for money-- to working, peddling and stealing in trains, and working as tour guides in Taj Mahal, Jamal and Salim eventually grow up. Salim is a hardened dangerous deviant while Jamal is his exact opposite. But the one thing that drives him to go on in life is his great love for Latika.

Even after several years of parting ways with Latika (she is left behind when the brothers run away from the gangsters), Jamal convinces his brother to go back and search for her. Little did they know, far more dangerous ordeals await them in the Mumbai underground scene.

Touching on sensitive and serious themes, SlumDog succeeded in inserting humor here and there, in places you will not expect. This device is irony at its finest. The best example? Let me say Danny Boyle's depiction of the dirtiest restroom in Trainspotting is nothing close to this!

But what made SlumDog easy on the eyes and lovable to watch was its central theme of Jamal and Latika's love story. It's bittersweet, most times frustrating and heart-aching. It just made me want to shout and root for them. Or even to yell at the top of my voice on the scene when Jamal is meeting up with Latika to escape, "Look out,the villain's coming!"

A. It's another one of those poverty stories.
C. Danny Boyle is a great director.

Based on the novel Q and A by Vikas Swarup, SlumDog Millionaire is indeed a poverty story. There are already existing documentaries and films touching on this topic. But SlumDog brings home the award with an exceptional backbone of the poverty-- a striking contrast with a quiz show promising instant fortune. And sure, it helps that it's timely, with this period being the era of reality and quiz shows. In fact, the SlumDog can be in Wowowee in our country (Hep! Hep! Hooray!) Another definite plus is the fact that Director Danny Boyle and his team actually got real-life slum kids to act in the film.

British Danny Boyle, director of Trainspotting and Sunshine, did more than doing his homework by not only immersing in the Mumbai slums, but also by paying homage to Hindu commercial cinema. The opening chase scene in the movie was actually based on the "12-minute police chase through the crowded Dharavi slum" in Black Friday (adapted from S. Hussein Zaidi's book of the same name about the 1993 Bombay bombings). The autograph whose Jamal sought at the start of the film was actually Bollywood Star Amihtab's, who is kind of like our "FPJ" here.

And the result is a thorough well-researched take on poverty in India.

B. America wanted to look like it's actually caring for the Third World.

The Oscars has actually been a credible award-giving body (pretty much the opposite here in the Philippines), with its history track of awarding notable stand outs, more recently Crash in 2006 and No Country For Old Men in 2007. I have to give it to them for not going for Benjamin Button. So, no, definitely SlumDog won not because it's a "third world" story.

My answer?
D. It is the best.

And yes, perhaps, IT IS WRITTEN. Slumdog captured the hearts of millions worldwide.

WATCHMEN

2009-03-07T05:48:00.000-08:00

A superhero known as "The Comedian" is far from being funny and humorous. A cynical and flawed man, he is a maniac and a killer. It's all a joke, he says.

But when one of the superheroes, Rorschach, finds a smiley pin with a blood stains on a gutter, his investigation of The Comedian's murder leads him and the other superheroes to something even bigger than themselves.

I haven't even glimpsed the graphic novel. But the hype and the visual effects I saw on the trailer was enough to make me watch the movie twice in the big screen.

Zach Snyder, Director of "300" did not disappoint. The movie started with a stunning credits, shot live action, but as if they were still pictures with one or two elements moving. The credits narrated the rise and fall of super heroes. How eventually, most of them were forced to retirement or silence.

Until the murder.

Besides a great soundtrack and ironic fight scenes, I liked the way the movie characterized each super hero. Watchmen deviated from the usual super hero movie. Superman as an alien who landed on earth, with bionic powers. Spider Man, a quintissential geek who gets bitten by a genetically enhanced spider. The death of his uncle taught him moral idealism with his last words, "With great power comes great responsibility."

In Watchmen, Rorschach is a psychotic, masked vigilante man. "A comic book villain," Ozymandias aka Adrian Veidt said. Nite Owl, known as Dan, is a weak, confused guy with "a school boy super hero act." Dr. Manhattan, the only super hero with real powers is god-like (not to mention being well-endowed, I can't forget its blueness!). He can kill and destroy with a flick of his hand, can see the past and future, but is slowly retreating from humanity, and ironically has emotional problems of his own. Laurie/Silk Spectre is caught between two heroes-- Nite Owl and Dr. Manhattan and is finally coming to terms with the truth of her identity.

No one is super hero-like. They are real people, with real problems, only they have masks, costumes and heightened physical skills to distinguish themselves from the rest of us.

No doubt the material of the film is rich and by the story itself, is unique, something new-- a radical take on the concept of super heroes. Who's watching over them? Is it God? What are they saving mankind for?

"Are you kidding? We're protecting them from themselves," The Comedian said.

"Why should I save the world I no longer have any stake in?", Dr. Manhattan asked.

An in-depth analysis of the super heroes led to deconstructing of human nature itself. Man is created selfish and imperfect.

In the end, Dr. Manhattan's sacrifice, almost Jesus-like, led to the further extinction of super heroes. And the only one who was real and uncompromising ended up committing suicide. And mankind? Who knows if they will ever change?

Unfortunately, though Watchmen was rich with a unique story and has powerful effects and imagery, I couldn't help but think the good material was enclosed in a typical narrative, caught within the pressures of formulaic Hollywood.

It was supposed to be character driven, sadly the plot drove the characters instead. There were scenes that were "cheeky", especially towards the end.

I couldn't help but think that at the start up to the middle of the film, the director had a certain movement or treatment he wanted. But from the middle to the ending, he reverted to contenting himself with a typical story-telling.

Too bad for the heroes, who weren't trite and typical at all.

When I left the movie house the second time around, I wondered if super heroes will ever rise again after all that happened.

And if they do, what kind of super heroes will they be? Say in 2020?

My only hope is that a new Watchmen story is in the works. And if I'm still alive when the movie version is shown, I wouldn't miss it for the world.

10 Pounds

2009-02-27T08:46:00.000-08:00

Errr..I vowed the next time I post here, it'll be a new story.

Unfortunately,I haven't had time to make a new prose. Ideas came up though. But I just didn't manage to sit and write everything down, and spend 3-4 hours writing. Or maybe I'm just plain tamad. Haha.

--

Instead,I decided to write something about how I decided to finally lose weight. It's been a touchy topic for me, I admit. Since for about 4 years now (since I graduated actually), it's been a downhill ride from a normal body figure to my chubby bordering on obese exterior at present.

In GMA 7, stress was high and contiguous I reverted to eating as my soothing tool, my massage therapy, my stress-reliever. And when people started telling me, "Uy tumataba ka na...", I didn't believe them.

Why? Because I thought I was chubby my whole life! At home, my brothers call me "baboy" or tabaching (but now I realize, they did that just to piss me off, kahit na I wasn't really fat that time). In college, some of my block mates teased me for being chubby. So I thought my colleagues in GMA were just echoing my brothers and college friends' teasing.

Come the job at Solar Entertainment, Antipolo. As I commuted to uphill Sumulong day after day, as if the ride had an effect on my body mass, my appetite grew and my weight came up-- gradually. Again, when office mates teased me, I didn't pay attention at all! I thought being chubby and being teased was normally me.

What made me even think or consider that I was actually getting fatter and fatter was when I had a severe back ache I couldn't even get up from bed. My office mate told me it must be my body's way of telling me it can't handle my heaviness any longer.

To add, my mom told me how my Auntie Bebe suffered because of her obesity. She was suffering from diabetes, heart ailment, high blood, and weak legs just before she died. And she didn't want me to experience that.

I remember my boyfriend often told me, "baby, diet not because of me, or because your friends are teasing you. Do it for you."

And he's right. When you decide to diet for other people, more often than not it doesn't work. You end up going back to zero. I know, because I've been there.

But when you decide you're going to do it for yourself, because you love yourself. Then that does the trick. From that conviction alone, there's no going back to eating non-stop and saying no to exercise.

For me, it came more visually, though.

My boyfriend and I were at the mall when I saw this cute girl window-shopping in a V-neck lined white and green dress. She wasn't slim, in fact, she has shapely voluptuous body, but she looked so sexy, so free and so happy in her fresh sun dress. I like dresses, I would love to wear a dress but never dared not because I didn't have the guts, but I didn't have the confidence. If I wear one, I know I want to be comfy and as happy as the window-shopping girl.

I told myself, "My gosh, I want to look good and feel good in that dress too..."

And that was then that I decided for myself-- Alina, it's time to D-I-E-T or to D-I-E.

Now, I don't claim to be an expert.

I started dieting last Christmas Vacation, December 29. And it's been down to 10 pounds since then. More disciplined and determined people could've beaten that. But still and all, I'm very proud.

It's a day until March, the brink of summer. God knows I may never wear a bikini. But I look forward to a smaller weight and a better, healthier body in the coming months.

(after and before.haha,parang print ad lang for lesofat or xenical. lol. yung 2nd pic was taken at solar Antipolo Xmas Party)

Vicky Cristina Barcelona

2009-02-21T22:55:00.000-08:00

A film review by Maria Alina Co

Watching this film is one of those rare times I succumb to watching a movie I don’t know anything about. With the prices of tickets these days, I research the film’s synopsis beforehand so I’d be assuaged I’ll be spending good money for it. But since I won free passes at the recent Cinexpo, I thought what the hell, a movie for free, why not?

Besides, it’s not as if Vicky (let’s call it Vicky to save up on words) is lacking on film credit bankability. For one, it’s written and directed by Woody Allen. And seeing the movie’s poster in Megamall, I thought if Javier Bardem (No Country for Old Men), Penelope Cruz and Scarlett Johansson’s not enough to spur a film buff’s curiosity, then I don’t know what else.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona is not a whole name of a person. Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina (Scarlett Johansson) are best friends who decide to stay in Barcelona for the summer. At the start of the film, the narrator disclosed that both girls are complete opposites of each other. Serious, practical, finishing her masters on “Catalan identity” and engaged to be married to no-nonsense Doug, Vicky is bordering on being uptight and traditional. Cristina is your typical hopelessly lost girl. She is impulsive and spontaneous and currently recovering from a bad break-up and the embarrassment of writing, directing and starring in a 12-minute love story short film she hates.
But when they meet artistic and charming Antonio, rumored to have had a violent relationship with his ex-wife, the fun and seduction begins. And both girls find themselves in a most unlikely love triangle.

What follows are a series of twists and turns, guaranteed to tickle and to tease. With Juan Antonio, their lives change completely, whether for good or for bad.

The comedy takes a notch higher, when Juan Antonio receives a call from Maria Elena, his ex-wife, asking for help as she tried to commit suicide. Cristina, despite her hesitation, is forced to live with Juan Antonio and Maria Elena under the same roof. Penelope Cruz is a surprising revelation. Her role as a crazy, bordering on demented artist is both convincing and entertaining. In fact, even for a supporting role, her presence in the film is more powerful and memorable that Scarlett’s or Rebecca’s. Which is perhaps why she won the BAFTA Award for Best Actress in a Supporting Role, among other awards.

Vicky is a refreshing, memorable film worth to watch, simply because it’s a complete deviation from the usual rom-com flicks in Hollywood. In my opinion, these formula romantic comedies are getting tiresome and predictable.

For once, a love story revolves around the quirks and ironies of the characters in it, without the usual reactions and card-board portrayals Hollywood flicks give.

Besides, the sizzling scene between Penelope Cruz and Scarlett Johansson is worth the time.

Balentayms!

2009-02-15T09:31:00.000-08:00

I thought it proper to write a Valentine's entry. Since I'm hurrying to sleep cause I have a long day tomorrow, I'll make this short and sweet.

---

No flowers.
No chocolates.
No violins, or sunsets.

Just your hands massaging my tummy and backbone-- soothing the unbearable aches away. I whimpered, crying "Hindi ko 'to kaya...". You just kissed my tears, and whispered "I'm just here, by". I remembered the way my mom would painstakingly rub my body with a hot towel just to keep the fever chills away.

You kept at it for hours and lied by my side until I finally fell asleep.

I was blinded by so much pain that night, but there was that short moment, a fraction of a minute -- I saw myself with you for the rest of my life.

LILA'S WORST FEAR: a flash fiction

2009-02-05T07:39:00.000-08:00

LILA’S WORST FEAR

When friends begin to talk of fears, Lila immediately squirms. It’s either “I’m afraid of the dark”, or claustrophobia, or fear of riding ferriswheels or roller-coasters.

When it’s Lila’s turn, her face becomes white. She ponders telling them about that day in the grocery, but decides to tell them her number two fear instead—clowns, but this is altogether another story.

Right now, she drinks cold water with the hope of washing away the jitters.

--

The first thing she remembers is the grocery cart. Her right foot on the cart, pushing her way forward. It was like a scooter, plus the groceries. She pushed and pedaled, pushed and pedaled, and heard nothing but the soft scrape of wheels, echoing inside rows and rows of foodstuff.
--

Lila woke up that day and as early as twelve years, she had already developed a ritual. With her pajamas on, she posed in front of a full length mirror, breathed in, tucked her stomach in and her chest out. She touched her breasts softly, imagined them getting bigger by the second. Imagined wearing prettier dresses with her soft curves, just like her Ate Linda, whom she thought the whole world of. She just has to be patient, her Ate Linda said, soon you’re going to be pretty, very pretty, maybe prettier than me. Lila smiled, her dimples showing.

But frowned when her mother barged in her room and nagged her to take a bath and dress up. “Lila, honey, stop fiddling with your chest. We’re going to the grocery.” Lila was irritated that moment and then excited the next. After all, she can wear her favorite red frock, laced with white ruffles. It fit her perfectly, plus the round cut highlighted her breasts. She cheered up, thinking of the possibility of her mom buying Lila her first bra.
--

She pushed and pedaled, pushed and pedaled. As usual, Lila had her own cart, a small one. Her mom’s was filled with the usual stuff- meat, vegetables, toiletries and whatnot. But Lila’s was the cart with the real goods—junk food, sweets, cereals.

The wheels scraping echoed again and again in her mind. It echoed inside the dingy warehouse grocery. It bounced through the large boxes near the ceiling, then hit the cold, gray floor. Lila remembers now, it was a week day and the grocery was almost empty, except for one old couple, a few retirees and a few moms here and there. She was a strange little, bright light inside the sad warehouse. She was flushed with too much exercise from playing with her cart.

“Lila, dear, I’m almost finished here. We forgot your favorite. Go get yourself your Fruit Loops. Just the small one ha. Since you’re the only one eating that,” Lila’s mother said, while comparing prizes of two detergent bars.

Lila pushed and pedaled and passed rows and rows of groceries. She knew which row the cereal was. But just for fun, she took a joy ride. She sped her way into the canned goods and noodles section, circled to the bread and eggs row, zoomed past the Frozen Delights, and finally took the right turn and stopped in the Cereals and Milk section.

Lila grabbed her usual- Fruit Loops and threw the box in her cart. Lila stared closely at the other brands and flavors. Perhaps, she ought to try something new, she thought. Honey Stars, Chocolate Crispies—her eyes stopped to look at the strawberry puffs. Lila swallowed, suddenly very hungry. LIla looked to her left and right. She thought she saw a flash of red at the fronting row, but shrugged the thought away and began to tear at the cereal’s silver bag. She tasted one puff, then grabbed more and chewed hungrily.

Lila jumped suddenly as a hand came from nowhere and pulled her blouse. Strawberry puffs strewed the floor. A tall, thin man with reddish eyes and a red shirt stared at her angrily—“Bata, anong ginagawa mo? Isusumbong kita! Makukulong ka! Putangina kang bata ka!” Lila immediately began to weep—“huwag po, please, huwag niyo kong sumbong.” Her tears streamed down her cheeks, down to her lips, gleaming with the strawberry puff’s crumbs.

Suddenly, the man grabbed Lila’s breasts and squeezed whatever life or juice he can get from it. Lila froze, the man froze and closed his eyes. Touched his penis with his right hand, getting harder by the second. Lila’s world was suddenly silent. She was unaware of her cries, just heard the soft whirring of the store’s air-conditioning. She stared at the man with the reddish eyes, opening and closing them, biting his lips and looking happy in a way she couldn’t understand. Lila closed her eyes just then, hoping it was just a stupid dream. But it wasn’t darkness she saw, like most nightmares you came from, but a glaring red light, red eyes, red shirt, red dress, red puffs.

When he was finished, he leaned closely and whispered—“Huwag kang magsusumbong, papatayin kita, pati magulang mo.”
--

Two weeks after, Lila’s mother brought her a plastic bag from a department store. Inside was a white, small baby bra.

“O, honey, why aren’t you happy,” Lila’s mother said, puzzled at her daughter’s glum expression.

That night Lila tucked the bra inside the deepest outskirts of her cabinet.

She breathed in, breathed out and touched the seemingly flat breasts on her shirt. Realizing she couldn’t breathe well, Lila undressed her shirt, undressed a long piece of white cloth on her chest, until she could breathe easy. It’s too tight, she thought. Then rolled the cloth back on her chest again.

That night, she dreamt of grocery carts wheeling around on their own inside a dark, empty warehouse. She hugged her chest tight for comfort.

*End*

HOTEL STORIES

2009-02-01T06:18:00.000-08:00

THE SHINING (2007)

One of my most favorite films is Stanley Kubrick’s THE SHINING. Sam lent it to me when we were in 4th year college.

By far, it’s the best horror film I’ve seen.

The film is about a family – Jack (Jack Nicholson), his wife and son Danny, who stays at an isolated hotel to become winter caretakers. Gradually, the story reveals Danny has psychic powers and sees ghosts, who were former guests in the hotel. Jack, a close-minded asshole, insists on staying for the money. Eventually, vulnerable Jack loses his mind.

There are two unforgettable shots/scenes. The first one was when Danny was playing around the hotel, riding his three-wheeled bike, with the basket in front and all. Consisted of mostly long shots, with the bike on the foreground and the hotel hallway at the back. Momentarily, shot shifts to perspective of the boy. The long take goes on and on and on. The hallway stretched wide ahead. Until a little girl, with blood on her face appears at the end of the hallway. The wheels screeched into a halt.

The second one’s when Jack was mad as hell and trying to break in her wife’s room to kill her. The shot was very very high angle/worm’s eye view, shooting Jack as he knocks furiously on the door. It was a risky, but very effective shot. You could feel Jack’s insanity pulsing from the skewed angle.

The hotel is cold, dreary and very scary.

One thing I love about it is its subtlety—it starts out quiet, taking its time. Making the viewer a screaming, squirming guest in the hotel—whether you like it or not!

1408 (2007)

When I watched 1408’s trailer last year, I was blown away. It was, after all, another Stephen King adaptation. Plus the story was very interesting.

It’s about the cynical Mike Enslin who writes books evaluating supernatural phenomena in hotels, graveyards and other haunted places, usually debunking the mystery. He came across an urban legend about room 1408 in Dauphin Hotel, a room rumored to be evil and have killed more than 50 guests. He checks himself in and sets out to unlock and mock the mystery behind it. But deep into the night, Mike discovers he can never check out alive.

The movie turned out more than I expected. Set in a single hotel room, the story succeeded in throwing one scare after another, making viewers jump in their seats. Who knew digital clocks, chairs, tables and windows can give you the ultimate chills?

One of my favorite scenes was when Mike looked at the window and saw a version of himself in a parallel window.

BIRTH-DATE @ Discovery Suites (2009)

Sadly, I have no horror story to tell. Hehehe.

We didn’t go to a hotel in busy Ortigas to make money or to debunk mysteries.

We did it to celebrate Sam’s birthday.

With a complimentary massage and a buffet breakfast, the 4800 bucks was a winner. Not to mention a beautiful room, a bath tub, the amenities (yeah, I got all the lotions, soaps, bath salts, slippers, the works!). The staff was very accommodating and friendly. There were also complimentary fruits and water. I thought may bayad nga, but a staff assured me they were free!

The location was perfect, near megamall and podium so it was hassle-free when we ate out (of course we weren’t going to eat inside,,,mahal eh!)

Word of warning, though, for those planning to check in a hotel soon and are first timers like we were, besides paying the full amount before you check in, you will also be required to pay a ”guarantee” worth half of what you’re paying. But they’ll give it back once you check out. My advice, just have extra money or a credit card handy.

Sam and I had such a grand time. Definitely, we’ll be back.

But for the meantime, I’m praying a hotel GC will appear from the heavens and land on my feet. Or maybe I’ll win a raffle in one of our shoots or events. Hehehe!

Short Walks From Masscom to Palma Hall.

2009-01-29T12:57:00.000-08:00

When I entered UP, one of the things I looked forward to were the boys. I thought, thank God, after meeting stupid boys in High school, I'll finally meet substantial ones in college and who knows, I might fall in love.

(Long Pause)

(the fan whirs, the floorboards creak, the sun sets)

Okay, so no one came. So a year before graduation, I have already resigned and accepted maybe I'll meet HIM at the work place.

But I guess God is such a good dramatist and story-teller. 'Cause for some unexplainable reason, YOU came into my life.

And because God mastered that in literature, the protagonist has to work his/her butt off, to get his/her happy ending, he decided....well, Alina, I won't make this easy for you.

So at first, as in all love stories, we meet. You were a Philosophy Major, a 'tambay' in AS/Palma Hall-- a heart throb, as cool as ice. I was a Film Major in Mass Com-- student council leader, running for honors, a real stuck-up.

I was domineering and had a strong personality.
You were passive, almost shy.

You were a bassist and a member of a band.
I was a singer and a member of a band/duo called AlinaNaiba.

You thought Paola Peralejo (my classmate then in Mandarin 100) was over-rated and bitchy.
I blushed when you said I'm prettier than her.

We were JUST ORGMATES. But it was a real blessing we were under the same committee. Cause otherwise, what could be our excuse for talking on the phone late at night? We were discussing layouts and copies of publicity materials, but deep inside, we wanted to know how many siblings we have, our birth dates, our interests, our crushes...

I remember now, vividly, our shorts walks from Masscom to Palma Hall. I remember deliberately trying to walker slower just to spend more time with you. I don't know if you noticed I often tied my shoe laces.

I waved a shy goodbye every time I was about to go to the third floor for my Chinese class. You said "ingat!" as you went back to your tambayan on the 2nd floor.

January 2005-- God decided it was time for the REAL DEAL. Sitting on a new sofa in Masscom, we confessed what we felt for each other. Then again, the Lord said liking each other wasn't enough for love. In the end, you told me we met too late 'cause your heart already belonged to someone else.

My heart bled.

That night, we walked together to the IKOT jeep terminal near Masscom. You bid a silent goodbye as I got inside the jeepney. You turned and walked away, as the jeep drove ahead. Please look, I muttered, please...just glance so I know I still have a chance...WE still have a chance.

But you walked straight ahead. I blinked back tears. It was the longest ikot jeep in my life.

Depression came. That included crying to five different people in a day. Staring off into space during thesis shoots. Writing poems, writing a song about you (which became a famous song by the way- Eyeliner sung by Armi Millare)

And just when I was already moving on, God made the unexpected happen. He let us meet again and made us feel something. That maybe, we can work it out. He might be the one. She might be the one. God gave our love story another chance.

I held my own, passed the test and got my happy ending.

Now, we're four years and counting, baby.

Up to now, I feel mesmerized by you. As if we just confessed to our crushes, as though we had our first kiss.

But it hasn't been a smooth-sailing ride. We've been through a lot. But the important thing is....we made it. There are more challenges to come. I'm sure we're all the more stronger for them.

From being strangers, to romantic partners, we've become the best of friends.

Alina and Sam. Sam and Alina. I can't imagine life without you.

Thank you so much for your unconditional love.

Happy 27th birthday!

Battling Insomnia

2009-01-27T13:29:00.000-08:00

In my eyes,silhouettes
Bathing in the moonlight
My soul wandering
Battling imaginary fireflies...
Outside, I hear a siren's song
and two cat-lovers moaning, sighing,
Scratching at walls they cannot see...
I squint, suddenly,
at the sun's first wink.

*** Hayyyy..insomnia, insomnia....I need to sleep...:(

PILIKMATA

2009-01-25T09:25:00.000-08:00

This is one of the poems I wrote last 2005, dedicated to by "sungkiki"...heehee. He liked it so much he made a layout for it. :-)

Flashes of Red: a semi-short story

2009-01-23T01:22:00.000-08:00

When Cara woke up, she saw red flashes.
The same bits of red you see when you look at the sun
So sudden, you get rashes
She dragged herself to the school fair that day
With nothing to look forward to.
At the kissing booth, someone dragged her
Her face red, acne-infested, the guy looked at her disgusted.
Paid a hundred bucks to escape being busted.
All around her, strips of red paper hanged
She picked some of them with her hand
Then walked by her lonesome to the place of the damned.
At the girls’ bathroom, it was her release
She cried in the toilet, streaks of confusion and grief.
When finally, she calmed, she washed her face
Washed her hands thoroughly with the paper strips
Then a thought came as fast as light—
As Cara stared at the red ink-stained sink.

SIGANGSUITOR: maikling kuwento

2009-01-23T01:02:00.001-08:00

SIGANGSUITOR

Ang Sampaguita Street dito sa amin sa Pasig ay pugad ng mga retiradong lola’t lolo, mga apo nilang may mga asawa na, mga sales lady, mga tambay na tanghali pa lang tumotoma na, mga land-ladies ng nabubulok na mga apartments, at ang mga tenants nilang live-in status, mga estudyanteng makikita mong naka-puting blusa at polo, naglalakad papuntang Sta. Lucia Elementary School. At higit sa lahat, ito ang pugad ni Mac-Mac.

Maliit si Mac-Mac, maitim ang balat, makapal ang buhok at sarat ang ilong. Walang mag-aakalang siya ang numero unang siga dito sa Sampaguita.

Taong 1991 nang lumipat ang pamilyang Nograles sa Sampaguita – si Mac-Mac, ang Tiya Melissa niya at si Mang Dolfo, isang pulis na na-destino sa Pasig. Isang linggo pa lang ang nakakalipas nang kumalat sa kalye naming ang bali-balitang patay na ang tatay ni Mac-Mac, samantalang nagtra-trabaho bilang domestic helper ang nanay niya sa Italy.

Noong ika-labingisang kaarawan niya, nagimbita si Tiya Melissa ng mga bata sa Sampaguita Street. Dumalo ako sa isang simpleng handaan ng spaghetti, fried chicken at puto. Nakalaro ko pa ng siya ng Mario Brothers. Siya si Luigi at ako naman si Mario. Unang impresyon ko kay Mac-Mac, mukha namang mabait, pero parating nakakunot ang noo. Para tuloy siyang laging galit sa mundo.

Hindi si Mac-Mac ang orihinal na siga sa Sampaguita. Yung pinaka-kinakatakutan ng lahat – si Toto. Labing-tatlong taong gulang pa lamang, mukha na siyang mama. Kaya laking gulat na lang namin nung minsang nabalitaang napatumba ni Mac-Mac si Toto sa isang no-holds-barred na sapakan. Agad-agad, nawala sa trono si Toto. Duguan ang ulo, nailipat ang korona ng pagka-siga kay Mac-Mac.

Doon nagsimula ang Golden Age ni Mac- Mac. Tiningala siya ng mga siga ng Dame de Noche, Dalia at Ilang-ilang street. ‘Di nagtagal, nabuo ang barkada ni Mac-Mac, mga tinaguriang “untouchables” sa baranggay namin. Isang tropa ng lalaking tulog sa umaga, at gising sa gabi. Tumatambay sa isang warehouse sa Dama de Noche, umiinom ng alak, nagsisgarilyo, at marahil, patikim-tikim ng bawal na gamot.

Naalala ko, isang gabi, bago ako matulog, may narinig akong kalampag sa labas. Basagan ng bote, kaskas ng tsinelas sa kalye, at sigawan. Kinaumagahan, nabalitaang naming nagkaroon ng rambol. Tropa laban sa tropa.

Mga panahong itong labing-tatlong gulang na ako, pinagbawalan na ako ng magulang kong lumabas-labas. Natatakot siguro silang matulad ako sa mga kabataan ng Sampaguita.

Isang araw, lumapit sa akin yung isang tropa ni Mac- Mac. May inabot na sulat. Isang berdeng stationary na amoy cologne. Nakangisi yung barkada niyang umalis. Sa loob ay nakasulat: Dear You, hope you won’t get offend, but crush na crush kita. Can I get your phone number? I love you. Love, Mac-Mac. Naramdaman ko na lang na namula yung pisngi ko. Tinago ko ang sulat, at wala akong sinabihan tungkol dito.

Isang linggo ang lumipas, nang tinawag ako ni Tiya Melissa habang bumibili ako ng dirty ice cream. Nagyayang mag-merienda ako sa bahay nila. Pumayag naman ako. Nandoon si Mac-Mac sa loob ng bahay. Patingin-tingin sa akin. Nung iniwan ako ni Tiya sa hapag-kainan, ni hindi man lang siya lumapit sa akin para sumabay kumain. Pero nung nagpapaalam na ako kay Tiya Melissa, bigla na lang siyang sumulpot sa pinto. Hindi pa rin nakatingin sa akin, kinuha niya ang kamay ko, at inilapag ang isang kuwintas. Simpleng itim na tela ang kuwerdas. Pero ang hindi ko malilimutan, yung pendant. Plastic na puso, na may kulay pula na tubig sa loob.

Noong ika-labingapat na kaarawan niya, nagpadala si Mac-Mac ng tatlong ice candy, isang slice ng cake na may tatlong bulaklak na icing at tatlong white roses. Nalaman ng Mama at Papa ko kasi sila ang tumanggap ng mga regalo. Humalakhak si Mama, umasim ang mukha ni Papa. Agad agad kong sinabi kina Mama na wala akong balak sagutin si Mac-Mac. Una, bata pa kami. Pangalawa, bakit ko naman sasagutin ang isang siga?

Lumipas ang mga taon. Naging abala ako sa pag-aaral. Wala mang kaibigan sa Sampaguita, may mga naging kabarkada sa pribadong paaralan kung saan ako lumipat. May sumunod na rin akong manliligaw. Isang estudyate sa isang pribadong paaralan sa Pasig. Malayo man sa asal ni Mac-Mac, ay hindi ko pa rin sinagot.

Paminsan, makakasalubong ko lang si Mac- Mac. Pauwi ng bahay mula paaralan, makikita ko siyang nakatambay sa kanto, naninigarilyo. Iba na ang itsura niya. Tumangkad, pumayat, tumangos ang dating sarat na ilong. Madungis, at may manipis na bigote. Bali-balita, napatalsik siya sa paaralan, dahil sa pagkalulong sa droga. Anim na taon na ang nakakalipas, pero siya pa rin ang numero unong siga sa Sampaguita.

Prologue:

Ngayon, 25 taong gulang na ako, parehong edad ni Mac-Mac ngayon. Matagal na silang lumipat ng bahay at umalis ng Sampaguita. Ang huling rinig ko, nasa rehab si Mac-Mac.

Minsan, sumagi na sa isip ko, paano kaya kung sinagot ko siya noon? Ano kayang buhay niya ngayon? Ano kayang buhay ko?

Paano nga kaya kung naging kami ng numero unong siga? Dadaplis ang isip ko dito, tapos mapupunta na sa ibang bagay.