Ephemeral Bliss

Not all endings are sad.

I count graduation as one of the “happy ending” moments. A time in one’s life when it feels so good to have reached the finish line and to look back and realize that something valuable has been accomplished. Something hard earned has been received and a well deserved success was bestowed upon.

Today, my two baby sisters received their graduate degrees in Architecture and Education. Everyone inside Rio and Men’s home is celebrating
We do thank the Kamaganaks Inc. for all the support (financial, spritual and moral). We will not be who we are now if not for them.

I am never prouder of my family as much as today.

P.S. We just received news that bunso is a cum laude holder.
Mommy this is all for you.

I re - read the comments on my friendster profile and I discovered that I’ve changed a great deal since I graduated from UP and joined the Philippine work force. In these comments, I was almost always described with the following words: quiet, mabait and patient, simple and contented.

I feel that after five years I’m a far cry from the girl they knew back in school.

I’m not quiet anymore. I’ve learned the need to punctuate myself as much as possible. It’s my way to hold my ground and only by expressing myself audibly do I get the satisfaction of feeling the importance of my ideas and views. I used to be painfully quiet because I was shy and/or I simply did not feel the need to verbalize myself, I was completely happy hiding behind the shadows of my friends and family. all this changed when I went through higher education and realized that I need to speak, if only just to be able to feel that I am alive and I matter somehow.

Spoken words became my means to be felt by the people around me and for them to feel what I feel towards them. Yet, during my speaking days I still longed for the silence I used to have, I miss that girl who would just sit in the corner and though she’s alone she’s not lonely. I was independent that way, just give me a book and I can leave the cares of the world behind.

I’m not mabait and patient anymore. At least not the way I was known for. Makati’s fast phased lifestyle, my work’s by the minute measurement of my worth and the million things I wished I’d be able to do before I hit 30 have all caught up with me. It made me restless and anxious, I had little patience over everything and I snap at everyone. I don’t even have patience with miniscule things like opening the box of cereal or falling in line in a restaurant where the waiters/waitresses seem to be in slow motion (they are in fact in just the right speed). Patience was my virtue before, not it’s a prehistoric artifact in my life.

I’m not simple and contented anymore. After five years of working and consequently earning, I’ve forgotten one very important lesson my parents taught me: simplicity and contentment.  Ten years ago I was happy and plain, I had no material possessions and I had no money in my pockets. I go through my daily life with just enough and I didn’t bitch about it. I was fine penniless but peaceful. Some friends even called me the vagabond because there was a point in my life when I was extremely detached from worldly stuff. I was free and I would love to feel that detachment and freedom again. Sadly though after five years I was beaten by the system of wants, and after another five years I was finally eaten whole by it. Contentment is a very tricky virtue to master, it takes a lot of guts to make do with just the things that are necessary and let go of the things that are wanted.

It will take an awfully long time to undo the mistakes of the past ten years. I can blame the system, the environment, even the people around me on why I lost who I was, but in the end there’s really no one else to blame but myself. I let go of my virtues in exchange for this life of pleasure and gains. I was the one who embraced the faulty philosophy of hedonistic lifestyle. I wasn’t beaten by the system, I surrendered… I wasn’t eaten, I jumped right inside it’s mouth.

I need to retreat and retrace my steps, maybe I might find myself along the way.

I haven’t spoken with my ex for three years or so now save for one phone call months ago when he informed me that he passed his licensure exam. I was happy for him, I’ve always been supportive of his dreams even though we didn’t land on the right foot after having obviously started on the wrong one in our relationship. Our was fleeting but I should say from my part, it was a memorable one.

A few days ago I attended an event for the french speaking community in Makati and lo and behold! there he was in white polo and black pants, carrying a sling bag and speaking french fluently! I was surprised beyond belief! It was really him, sporting clean cut and parted side ways hair with specs on.

I stared at him for a few more minutes before I noticed that there was something off, something wasn’t fitting right. I stared, prodded and scrutinized and then that’s when I realized that it wasn’t him but his cosmic twin. It seemed like cold water was poured down my back, I was both relieved and stirred all at the same time. I smiled and thought, the gods of destiny must be playing one big ass of a joke at me.

It happened that cosmic twin was from UP as well and was in slight speaking terms with a friend who was from the faculty. One thing led to another and I ended up in a conversation with him. He was an outstanding guy, has perfect command of his communication skills and judging by how he spoke, he seemed the determined and focused type, a similarity he had with my ex. He told me he had plans of getting french as a second degree after he had finished his Engineering degree this April. I was amused and at the same time engaged, In my eyes he was ex in upgraded version.

Funny how this sort of thing just popped right into my life from nowhere to break my mundane existence. It reminded me that down the road, something better will come along, like a better version of an ex. The trick is to know when to let go and when to settle. I did not settle in third year college and until now I feel that my life is exactly the way I wanted it to be.

Going back to ex’s cosmic twin, the event ended and we went our own ways back to our lives, not knowing each other’s name and with little to no certainty that we’ll have a chance encounter again.

Then again, I don’t have periods, I only have commas.

Note: Ex turned 26 today.

10. I Hate that Filipino men think being a man gives them a free pass on household chores.

Maybe it’s because of how these men were raised by parents that adhere to the obsolete notion that men should find food while women should make food for the family, but being stuck in this idea is unacceptable in the 21st century. A family helps each other in whichever way possible, and that includes household chores.

9. I hate that Filipino men think that it’s “manly” to have a mistress on the side.

Filipino men are still filled in their heads with the idea that they are “lalaking - lalaki” if they have many girlfriends and/or wives. Like that makes their d**ks bigger. I got news for you, it makes YOU a D**K HEAD. Also, I don’t want to sound like a prude or a judgmental human being but I can’t understand how this country would rather tolerate a man with mistresses than let divorce be legal. I’d rather call it out black if it’s black, or in this case, I’d rather have divorce than keep a family in the dark and blinded with false realities.

8. I hate Filipino men who idolize the crooked Robin Padilla of the 90’s.

Even Robin Padilla himself eventually grew out of this leather jacket wearing, slurring like a stupid drunk, pretentious gentleman Robin of the 90’s. So if you still think it’s cool to be a drugged and eternally drunk guy who looks for trouble to prove that he’s a man should start getting your act straight, and to girls who still think it makes them cool to be with this kind of man should wake up and smell the reeking alcohol off of their man’s breath.

7. I hate that Filipino men piss at the nearest wall they can find.

Someone once told me that men have smaller bladders than women that’s why they can’t hold it in longer. I don’t know if this is true but it doesn’t give men the right to urinate everywhere.

6. I hate that Filipino men would find a way to dodge the marriage bullet or prove that it’s not theirs when they get a woman pregnant, but will coerce into a shot gun marriage anyone who knocked up their daughter or sister.

If you don’t want your daughter or sister to be treated that way, then don’t go planting your seeds if you can’t handle the responsibilities.

5. I hate that Filipino men still think that the man of the family has the last word.

A relationship is a partnership, therefore both persons should make the decision.

4. I hate that Filipino men think that they own their woman.

I’ve encountered some female friends who let their boyfriends tell them what to wear, where to go and who to hang out with. If ever you are in a loving relationship with a narcissistic guy who thinks you’re his possession, bail as early as possible. Remember Silence of the Lambs? the serial killer “objectified” his victim so he won’t feel remorse for her. If you let your man objectify you, it won’t be long for him to start using you as just another one of his stuff.

3. I hate Filipino men who are homophobic pigs who find satisfaction in ridiculing and degrading homosexuals.

How many times have I heard a guy ridicule one of his friends by calling him bakla? or how Filipino men still give threatening looks at gays when they happen to use the urinals at the same time? or how when they find out your gay they automatically avoid you because they think you’re gay and you might start sexually harrassing them. Newsflash! They’re gay but it doesn’t mean they have no taste, they won’t want you just because you’re a guy, they still choose you know?!

2. I hate how Filipino men display deceiving and false chivalry.

What irks me the most when I’m in a PUV is when a guy offers to me his seat instead of giving it to the old woman standing right beside me, and this has happened numerous times. I’ve also fallen victim to the nice guy offering his seat but slightly “accidentally” rubs his arms or hands on your boobs. Other guys would open a space for you in a crowded jeep so you can sit beside them, but you’d soon find out that the reason they keep moving was because it makes your skirt hike up. I’ve also noticed how men would offer their seats to a pretty woman but would ignore a plain jane standing for three hours inside a bus. I also abhor the fact that Filipino men claim that they have the utmost respect for Filipinas but would see everyday how these guys treat bar girls and prostitutes. Nobody should be denied of self respect, not even a bar girl, and even though they have that line of work, they’re still Filipinas.

1. I hate how Filipino men stare, ogle and make inappropriate and sometimes downright bastos remarks when they see a woman in a sexy outfit.

I love to dress up because it makes me feel beautiful and I feel good when I feel beautiful, I’m just angry with the fact that I can’t wear shorts or skirts without eliciting bastos remarks. Filipino men are backward thinkers who can’t ride the wagon of 21st century where appreciation is not expressed in such a boisterous and demeaning way. A woman wearing something revealing doesn’t give anyone access to remark or act inappropriately. Learn to show your appreciation with respect. And Please, for the love of God, DON’T STARE OR WHISTLE LOSERS.

*Note: Of course the author knows that not all Filipino men are like these. In reality, there are a lot of Filipino men who are respectable, kind and dignified…. but sadly they are a shrinking breed.

(Keleidoscope World intro inaudibly playing in the background)

Sad day for the entertainment industry.

The Master Rapper has finally succumbed to the big C yesterday noon at the age of 44. Francis Magalona has indeed left an indelible mark in the Philippine musical landscape when he broke into mainstream with the very first rap album entitled Yo!. Not only did he introduce hiphop to the then predominantly ballad and rock band based Philippine music scene, he also “Philippinized” rap, mixing the sounds of indigenous instruments with the western form of narrative singing. Indeed, he was the man from Manila, a proud kayumanggi and pinoy.

An icon and a legend, Francis M. will always be remembered as the man who instilled the love for Philippines in the hearts of the Filipinos through his music.

I’m gonna tag along a couple of friends and chill in some sun baked isla. 

I just wanna be on the beach. 

When will I get time off from work?

I’ll let this out of me before it’s too late.

As much as I love you both, the monstrous proportion of confusion I always have to deal with when speaking of us in chorus has caused me nothing but pure grief. My heart goes out to the “we” and not the “I” and in my humble ways I’ve tried my best to stand in common ground so no ill is spoken of anyone. Winter chill has passed years ago and it’s time to let summer kiss our cheeks and leave us with nothing but warm thoughts of juvenile roads best left to memory.

I began 2009 by queuing on theaters to catch Siege of Baler and TheCurious Case of Benjamin Button. While both ironically dealt with anachronisms, each ended tasting differently in this movie junkie’s palate.

Siege of Baler, a 2008 MMFF entry, caught my attention due to its historical context and scenic depiction of Quezon’s landscape. Set during the time of Spanish occupation during the 17^th century, the film revolves around the untimely love affair Between Feliza, the filipina daughter of a revolutionary leader and Celso, a filipino- mestizo soldier who chose to serve the Spanish army in the hopes of finding his father. The 337 days of resistance put up by the remaining Spanish contingent against the Filipino soldiers in the town of Baler served as backdrop to the unfolding and consequently tragic end of a love born in the time of war.

I entered the cinema with high hopes that this film might actually be able to live up to my expectations as a movie junkie. I’ve seen many remarkable period films like Dekada 70’, Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos and Jose Rizal and I was rooting for this film to join the ranks of the classics. Sadly though, the film fell short of rising above the usual melodrama and misdirection that Filipino movies suffer from.

Off beam casting of Anne Curtis (Feliza) was evident as soon as the camera started to roll, her very pale complexion stood out in the sea of brown skinned supporting casts that populated the town of Baler. She was also too tall to play a filipina of unadulterated lineage and her tongue twisted with a twang that displayed unnatural tagalog speaking skills. Nikki Bacolod (Luming) also did not fall far from the tree of miscasting, her rolling r’s and foreign features made it all the more unbelievable that their characters were tagalogs from the low lands.

While misrepresentations of these two actors are forgivable, physical anachronisms such as Anne’s shiny brown mane with streaks of light brown highlights and french tip manicured nails were errors of abysmal proportions in a period film. It very much demonstrated the lack of attention to detail and careless work of production and the poor direction of Mark Meily. I was horrified to no end by the obvious absence of character – empathy from Anne’s acting, she was unfeeling in delivering lines and was so detached through out the whole movie that she stuck out like a sore thumb. She did not elicit joy nor love in her romantic moments with Jericho and she failed to make me sympathize with her in her pain and anguish when her father cursed her child. Even her so – called “best actress moment” at the end of the movie was humdrum for me. Her efforts to bring to life Feliza’s loving, innocent and patient manner remained futile until the theater curtains closed.

However, despite Baler’s many faults, the laudable performances of male lead Jericho Rosales and supporting roles Philip Salvador and Rio Locsin saved this film from the brink of total film flop.

Jericho Rosales was surprisingly impressive in his portrayal of subservient half -Spanish soldier Celso. He effectively encompassed the commitment his character gave to the woman he loved, the dream he wished to fulfill and the duty he vowed to accomplish. His subdued bearing and expressive eyes conveyed the depth of love Celso bore for Feliza. He displayed docility and obedience in front of his commandant, bravery and composed disposition in front of the filipino soldiers, and grief in the face of his imminent fate. Jericho’s fine acting in Baler elevated him to one of the more serious actors of this generation.

On the other hand, Philip Salvador’s exaggerated acting from the school of hysteria successfully embodied Nanding’s vengeful persona and his outrage over Feliza’s insubordination, while Rio Locsin’s subtle attack on the role of a dutiful mother and loving wife facilitated the affection that the audience needed to balance Philip’s temper. The juxtaposition of these colliding personalities provided solid ground for Feliza’s delicate but daring character.

Siege of Baler might have failed to claim its stake as a credible and beautifully made historical film but it did celebrate in its bold move to create a movie that is more than the usual no – brainer – feel - good genre.

Next post: What this movie junkie has to say about Brad Pitt’s uncommon role.

You know what love is?

I never bothered asking myself this question long enough to actually gain an answer. I am not really a big fan of emo shit and I tend to just rationalize everything, including that four letter word. Fact is if I were in a beauty pageant quiz show and this happened to be the winning question, I’d probabably give a dictionary based definition (according to merriam - webster blah blah blah) or I’d just say it’s a score of nothing since I also play badminton. I won’t be able to give anyone a sentimental, all from this mushy place called heart type of answer. I think that love, like hate or that pain one feels after losing a loved one, cannot simply be encapsulated through a series of words. It has to be felt to be fully understood.

Or in this one very rare occasion capture it in one shot.

Three faces of love

That in the left is my dad. He’s the rigid type of dad, he does not display affection and is not open with his emotions. We grew up a bit scared of him because he’s the bad cop in the family. The girl at the background is my sister and the little man she’s carrying is my nephew, Jullian. My dad is extremely fond of him, there’s even this running joke in the household that he’d rather kick us all out of the house than my nephew. Whenever I look at this picture, all I feel is love. It pours right out of my dad’s puppy eyes looking at his grandchild, out of nephew’s hand touching his face and my sister’s face smiling like an idiot in the background.

Now, I’ve taken photos of many places and faces, and I’ve seen beautiful photos of places, people and events but nothing has touched me as much as this candid family protrait.

Love is all around you, just wait and see

2008 was a year of subtle disillusionment for me. For the most part, I failed to accomplish the things that I’ve planned like taking the spanish certification exam and acquiring one of my “dream purchases before hitting my quarter life”. I gained a lot of weight and I took less care of myself than I normally do. I spent so much on useless unnecessary stuff and the worst of it all was I stayed exactly as I was the year before (except for my curly hair).

So this year, I dare myself to improve, grow and be better. Enough of slacking and waiting for someone or something to push me.

I owe it to myself to live to the fullest.