NOW LOADING: Version 2.0

I haven’t written in a long while so this might be a bit rusty. Tsk, tsk… trust me to start with a disclaimer. Some things you can’t get out of your system easily.

Speaking of disclaimers, well I have to say this: IT AIN’T LOVE. It’s not that giddy feeling of suddenly finding reciprocity and all that jazz. It’s not waking up one day to see Pleasantville colour everywhere.

It’s realizing IT’S NOT WORTH IT. Not worth the pain, the agony, the waiting, the sulking, the dragging of the hours. The vicious cycle and the downward spiral.

Maybe it’s maturity. Maybe it’s mortality. Since I’ve always been morbid, I guess it’s more of the later. You realize you only have one life to live. That time is like sand you can’t hold in the palm of your hands. You realize you don’t want to be remembered as the mysterious, sulky guy who never lived. YOU DON’T WANT TO WASTE YOUR LIFE ON THINGS THAT ARE NOT WORTH IT.

It’s like having an epiphany. You pause, take stock of things and change course. You adapt a new perspective, a new life lens.

You wake up one day and realize you don’t want your old life anymore. A life ruled by expectations and disappointments. A life defined by other people. A life anchored on a past that you can’t leave behind. A life that’s grey and bleak because you are could not deal with the black and the white.

You wake up and realize you were lying in a bed of thorns you made yourself. Emphasis on “you made yourself.” Meaning it’s something you can undo, you can change, you can control.

I started young as a writer and my ink of choice was pain and angst. My best pieces were outbursts from the most difficult parts of my life. Because pain is familiar and it convinces me I’m still human. To borrow from TFIOS, “pain demands to be felt.” I believed I can only write in pain; it was therapy for me. It’s one of the truths I used to hold that now has changed. And these words are proof enough that I can write without that tortured sadness overwhelming me.

So I let go of the pain and angst and moved on. I start to chill, to be a little more passive, a little more enduring. Maybe a lot less caring. Because my excess baggage came from caring too much and not doing anything about it.

I STOPPED PLEASING MOST PEOPLE. Because cliché as it may sound, you need not please those who like you and you won’t be good enough for those who don’t like you. So why bother? This is me now. Deal with it. Love me or hate me, I’ll live. Feel free to judge, to say or think what you want. I have the real thing, the rhyme and the reason; you just have your imagination and opinion. Only a fool will believe another fool.

I STOPPED SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF. Rule of thumb is give everything your best shot. But you cannot do everything so just focus on the things that matter. That’s the concept of essentialism. Accept that not all things are perfect and ideal so you need to weigh and work the pros and cons in your favor.

I STOPPED LOOKING ON THE OTHER SIDE. It’s always greener there and that’s an optical illusion. The grass is greener where you water it. I just take care of the grass on my side and make it greener. I appreciate what I have instead of sulking about what I don’t have.  

I BECAME ANTI-DRAMA. Some see it as being anti-social but I just don’t want to be pulled into that dark circle anymore. I don’t waste my time on people who create their own problems and expect you to pull them out of it. Instead, I enjoy the company of people who share the same positive energy, the same wavelength, the same mindset. And then que sera sera. My eye-for-an-eye mentality is no longer about revenge. It’s about appreciating those who treat me right and ignoring those who don’t.

I CHOSE MY BATTLES. I don’t argue with close-minded people. I disengage myself from those who are all bark and no bite. If there is a problem, I attack it at the deep-seated root cause and stop the domino effect. I stare the hard truths in the eye and make the hard calls. I live and let live.

Bottomline, I no longer waste my energy on the negative. It doesn’t bring me anywhere but down.

Sorry if I’m not the same person to you. I no longer live for your opinion. I don’t breathe to get your attention. I don’t do things to earn your likes and double taps. I do them because I want to.

Hi, this is version 2.0. Nice to meet you. 

I'm Single And I Know It

Too many billion people in this planet and you can’t find one? That is the question. In this day and age, being single is tantamount to being a amputee, that you are walking around with a part of yourself missing.

Some people still shake their head at this destiny, or lack thereof. Some people see it as a crime; that somewhere out there a girl is having a miserable life because her “the one” chose to be alone.

For me, being single is a choice, a lifestyle even. I wake up, go to work, meet with friends occasionally and come back home to an empty house. And never did I feel the sense of being incomplete. I want it that way. In the same way you want to have a girlfriend or a family, I want to be single. Fact is, there is misery in being alone in as much as there is misery in being married. There is happiness in being married so there should be happiness is being single. All’s fair in love and life, right?

There was a time when I used to be defensive about this choice. It ticks me off how some people see it as a virus or a stigma. I remember a recent high school reunion where all the single guys and gals were told to go upfront, to be interrogated and heckled at by those lucky enough to find partners (rub it in, won’t you?); short of saying that being single is a fate worse than being broke. Yes, maybe it was all for fun and in the spirit of fun, I bit my tongue from saying things like “Yes I’m single but happy. You’re married and what again?”

For the record, I am not bitter about love. People think this situation is an aftermath of trauma or giving up on love. I recognize love, I wish it for friends and colleagues who wants it. I am happy when nice people find nice partners and live happily ever after. Heck, I am one of those guys who watch and read Nicholas Sparks and have a soft spot for Gus and Hazel in A Fault In Our Stars.

It’s just that I see love as some form of religion. I understand why people hold on to their hope in love, similar to the way sinners hold on to their faith. It becomes their reason for being. And like my view on religion, I respect that. I’ll leave them with their flowers and chocolate, white laces and promises. But it’s not for me.

Not that I have not tried it. I have, but my reaction to it reminds me of when I tried smoking. I didn’t like how it taste and feels. I don’t like pinning all my hopes and happiness on one person and making them the center of my universe. I don’t like synchronizing everything with that person. I don’t like the mush. I don’t being treated like a kid (kumain ka na ba?). I don’t like complications.

What I like is this freedom and being responsible only for myself. To be able to do whatever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want with whoever I want... without compromising someone. To be able to come home at any time and not having to apologize if my clothes smells like cigarette or another girl’s perfume. To be able to bond with a girl best friend without someone going jelly. To not pretend to like her friends or her family. Just to name a few.

They say Valentines Day becomes Singles Awareness Day for the unlucky ones. No need. Everyday, I’m aware that I’m single and for me, it’s a blessing. It’s the best way to exercise my right of free will and decision making.

I know people will see this as too juvenile, too cynical, too selfish or perhaps narcissistic. Again because they give “single” a bad name. Single is not a status. It is a feat which shows you are strong enough to live and enjoy life without depending on others.

There is dignity in being alone. Being accomplished and alone, being loved and alone, being un-lonely and alone.

Being single means more time to focus on myself. It’s like when I’m driving to an unfamiliar destination. For sure I’d still get there if I’m alone (give or take one or two wrong turns). If I have company, I tend to depend on them for instructions and lookouts. Being single means I’m in better position to achieve my goals in life. Somehow when you’re with someone, your goals take a back seat, or you have to make it around the other person. In being single I learn to appreciate myself more – know my capabilities, my strengths from my weakness, and strive to make myself a better person. Because I can only depend on me.

Husband or father might not be part of my curriculum vitae. Try good son and brother, loyal friend and great colleague. Maybe I’ll get chastised when I say I don’t need a partner to go through this life. I can travel alone, eat alone, shop alone or watch a movie alone. If there’s anything that scares me, it’s not growing old alone but being too independent. I see people as complications so sometimes I’d rather be detached. I even look forward to a “me time” despite being single and living alone.

There’s more to life than being in a relationship. You just have to enjoy the life that you have. Maybe someday I’ll find my match, maybe I won’t. And I’m OK with that. I won’t look back at my life with regret because I am able to do what I want.

I’m just saying that for what it’s worth, being single doesn’t make me any less happy or less grateful. And I know I am not alone in this sentiment.

Cheers to all the happy couples and the happy singles out there!

My Fault That She's A Star

Me: Finished already "The Fault In Our Stars." Can you get me out of this fetal position?

Her: Oh my goodness! Why did you finish it on Sunday? You might as well be excused from work tomorrow.

Me: I was at it since yesterday night and couldn't stop.

Her: #hagulgol

Me: And I hate how I see sparks of Gus in me.

Her: Well...if I was given the choice, I'd still choose to be in that position. The one that loves more. The one who has more to offer. I'd always tell you: you always have a choice.

Me: Yeah, I get it now. We choose who hurts us. And I should just be happy with my choice. But that has always been my dilemma.

Her: There is happiness in safe pain. Lonely is healing if you make it.

Me: I want to read the book you gave me next. But it might put me in an emotional tailspin. I'd read suspense as an in-between.

Her: Don't read that after "Fault." I have another book for you with the same concept.

Me: What I don't have it Gus' bluntness. I have emotional cancer from loving too much and risking too little. Sigh.

Her: Exactly what I was telling you about last Friday. You're already there. Go high or go home! At least no regrets, right? We only waste the chances we don't take.

Me: In my stupor, I don't remember that conversation last Friday. It's just a small infinity even if I wanted it to be bigger one.

Her: There will always be bigger infinities than the ones we have but that doesn't give us the reason to belittle others' or belittle ours.

Me: {silence}

Kingdom Of Disenchantment

As a kid, I never liked carnivals and amusement parks. It’s a make-believe field of fake and short-lived emotions where you create a bubble of happiness, court danger or conquer your fear.

Or maybe as a writer, I am just overwhelmed by its metaphors and ironies.

The carousel whose sick cycle spins you thoughtless but gets you nowhere. You delight in its blur until reality snaps back into clear view.

The ferris wheel, an imposing symbol of the highs and danger of life’s up and the disappointments and fleeting hope of life’s low.

The horror train where you scream your lungs out only to find out that the real horror awaits outside and by then you can scream no more.

The clown whose smile is too wide to be true. Then you see the droopy sad eyes and the hurt from a joke that was on them.

The wishing well which gives you a stab at chance and destiny. But looking at your coin join others in its watery grave, you realize it meant things will come with a price.

The toy store that has every kid’s whim and fancy but will never be big enough to satiate their caprice. 

The game booths where your odds at winning is slightly higher than your odds at finding love.

The princess whose beauty almost hypnotizes you to take her out of her forsaken castle. But the knight in tarnished armor that you are sees the safety in captivity, away from the din and sin of the free world. You end up adoring her from a distance and she’ still hoping for that someday when her prince will come.

You exhaust your ticket to ride inside the park. Then the music stops, the colors fade to darkness and the magic dissipates.

You exit and look back.

You realize that everything was a just play of color and light. In hindsight, nothing is what it seems. 

***

This is an aftermath of finishing the book “The Fault In Our Stars.” It sent me in an emotional tailspin. This cancer from loving too much and risking too little. 

Photo credits: www.fineartamerica.com

All I Want For Christmas...is CHRISTMAS

Today is Christmas and only yesterday did I get to feel it. I’ve been sarcastically exclaiming “So this is Christmas” ever since the partridge came to the pear tree. As with everything this 2012, most of the supposed big moments turn out to be non-events or worst…eventful (in the wrong sense of the word). Suffice to say, I want to calendar to change already so I can have a fresh start.

Got this as my iPhone wallpaper. So I get to feel a little more Christmas. 

Shopping for gifts was a blur this Christmas. I have to make time for it in my ever-busy schedule. And by make time, I have to transverse my four gift shopping destination in 2 days. And mind you, they are in the opposite sides of the metro. I shopped til I dropped…very literally. Frankly, I’m not so happy with my gift choices for some people. I didn’t have the luxury of time to buy them the perfect Christmas gift. Oh well, there’s always next Christmas and rest assured they call came from the heart (naks).

And it doesn’t end there. There is gift wrapping. It takes talent to do this and sadly, it’s not in my book of tricks. This year, my personal Santa who takes it upon herself to wrap my presents, is not available. So I had to shift to Plan B and just buy colored boxes or paper bags and tie them up with ribbons to give it a festive feel. And I have to thank St. Nick and those stores kind enough to offer paper bags for each item you bought (look Ma, no gift-wrapping!). 

Christmas for me usually starts when I have time to clean my room. This is a tradition I got from my Mom. We would have a general cleaning of the entire house as soon as Christmas break starts. The house will be all neat and tidy, with halls decked with boughs and holly. After all Santa will not enter a messy abode (yeah, right).

Two days ago I cleaned my small condo room. I realized I amassed a lot of stuff which just cluttered my already tiny space. I purged my closet (“cold climate” clothes will go home for a more permanent storage; work polos I haven’t used in the last 6 months to be passed-on to brothers and friends) and the make-shift pantry (I don’t need 4 plates and 4 mugs!). I plan to take out more and vow to live a minimalist life for the new year. Now if only there is a way to store magazines (I only started e-mags this year and only for selected titles since they don’t sell the back-issues for only 50 pesos).

Then for our Bulacan house, I bought shelves to organize the stuff in our garage and living room. Then only yesterday did we put up most of the Christmas decors. Here’s our cute arrangements for this year (thanks to a dear friend for these Christmas trinkets).

This Christmas I had to work until there is work, as compared to just going to the office to deliver gifts and clean-up my desk (yes, Christmas = clean ups) after the Christmas party. I had to do a recon and a telecon on the 22^nd (cue in Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas) And I have to send an urgent email on Christmas eve! Oh well. Moving on.

I have three simple wishes this Christmas:

1)   To be able to sleep for 8 hours, minimum. (which I did yesterday but in increments of 5.5 hours and 2.5 hours. I can live with that).

2)   To finish a good book. I wanted something Christmas-y but picked “The Fault In Our Stars.” I know it’s a sob story but Christmas is also about feeling and being alive. I need this since I’ve been a mundane robot the entire year.

3)   To have a better year for my all my love-ones and dear friends.

Dropping this quick blog to spread some cheers and joy this season. May this atmosphere of peace and warmth stay with us the entire year.

T’is the season to remember…

***

Dear Santa,

You know how I have been good this year. So thank you for all the blessings not just this Christmas but for the entire year. It has been a year full of Grinch-y moments but I still feel blessed. See, I’ve been good.

Just so you know, some people have been naughty. Please check your list twice. Your friend Karma often forgets them. I was hoping you will, also.

Sincerely,

The Little Barnieboi (pa ram pa pam pam)

***

Kidding…Merry Christmas y’all! :)

Mortality And The Infinite Lifetime

“Every day is one more step towards your grave.”

 I can’t remember where I read that but somehow it stuck. At the back of my mind, each day can be the last. I acquired this morbid perspective early in life. Blame it on my short dalliance with Anne Rice in college (for the uninformed: Anne Rice predates all the bloody vampire series of today. Before Kirsten Stewart’s lamb fell in love with the lion, there was Kristen Dunst who wants some more).

 Not that I am fascinated with death. I just see it as something tangible, inevitable and yes, accessible. Looking at the tombstone on my dad’s grave, I see that the name is just two letters different from my name. That’s how close I am to having my name on that tombstone.

Digging deeper, my morbid persona could be an aftershock of seeing my Mom fight for her life before I even turned 7. Or maybe it has to do with my high probability of dying from sudden unknown death syndrome (bangungot in vernacular, hemorrhagic pancreatitis in medical terms). They say only male Asians has this curse. I’m not kidding when I say I’ve experienced it countless times, to the point that I know what to do when it happens. So I’m familiar with the feeling of fighting for your life. How your mind screams for your body to not succumb. One time , I was too tired to fight it and conceded that that was it. So I just relaxed and just let it take me. Then it stopped and I woke up. And the rest is history in the making.

Growing up, I didn’t see myself as an adult in his twenties. I just don’t see the older version of me. Since I don’t have that vision, I honestly thought that I would die at a young age. Now, I’m in my early 30s and, as the Joni Mitchell song goes, I’ve seen life from both sides now. If I die tomorrow, it will be OK. I’ve seen beauty in as much as I’ve seen horrors in this world. I’ve seen some of my dreams come true and I’ve even been blessed with some not-in-my-wildest-dream moments that just blew me away. If my journey ends, then I’m happy with how far I’ve travelled. Maybe I took some wrong turns and some paths of thorns, but I always found my way back. And a better person at that.

 Our time in this world is finite. We are just a speck in this vast universe; we are just a blink in this great history of time. Some say procreation will guarantee survival. Hence, people think having a family and lineage is their only shot at immortality. I won’t argue with that, it makes sense.

But where does that leave me? I don’t plan on having a family of my own; I am happy with the family I have. Every time I would go thru that bangungot and still wake up, there’s no feeling of victory over the Grim Reaper. There’s only renewed hope and a small voice asking Why?. I know there has to be a reason. Maybe someone needs me, there’s still a purpose I have not served or there are still some dreams to be fulfilled.

So here I am at the prime of life. Or maybe just BEGINNING the prime of my life. I still don’t see myself as growing very old, like 50s old (but now I fear I have a Peter Pan complex). For now, I’m doing what I can to live that long. I take care of my body more than ever. Even if I have no bad vices that takes its toll on my body (except the occasional alcohol), I was not active before so my physical well-being was not ideal. The shift from sedentary to active lifestyle was quite hard (I had near-fainting spells when I was starting) but I now crave for that endorphin high. I go to the gym, I run, I eat right, I create my downtime. In terms of perspective, I’ve matured and have gone through endless paradigm shifts which led to an over-all optimistic view on life. I’ve somehow learned to ignore trivial things but I have yet to master dealing with Dementors. And if only I can manage my stress some more.

I realize as well that experience is not the best teacher. You’d think that you’d be wiser as you grow older. But the expectations are different. And the world is transforming right before our eyes so we have to catch up. Funny how I stared reading early but only recently did I discover the wonder of self-help and non-fiction books. I realize they are needed to feed the mind and expand the horizon. Currently I’m reading Delivering Happiness (by Tony Hsieh, CEO of Zappos) alongside No Time For Goodbye (whodunit thriller by Lincoln Barclay).

 Speaking of novels and dreams unrealized, I still want to pursue certain passions. Writing has always been my first love and I have this inkling for investigative writing. But after being relegated to the back burner, my prose and poetry has become rusty. I still would like to work on a book (fiction or a compilation of essays) or be part of an investigative team a la Rappler. This will be my shot at immortality and with this gift, my chance to make this world a better place. Likewise, I’ve had growing interest in photography and design so those are options as well.

Lots to do, and I want to believe I still have time. Life is indeed short. But never too short to not be able make the most of it. Life will kill you anyway, so just attack it.

***

"Dark angels follow me
Over a godless sea
Mountains of endless falling
For all my days remaining"
- Why Should I Cry For You? / Sting

***

 The title of this blog is actually a twist on The Smashing Pumpkins album Mellon Collie and The Infinite Sadness which spawned a personal favorite hit called 1979. I was born before that. :)

The Evolution Of My Shopping Cart

You know you have reached middle age when the contents of your shopping basket (or cart, for the online-savvy) has changed and you now find it filled with more practical and more “investment” items as compared to flights of fancy and hobby-driven items of yore. My current shopping cart has items that will help me either with work or the house (home, to be emotionally correct).

I remember for the most part of my early pubescent years, my extra allowance was spent on books. If there was 4Square back then, you will see how I frequent a lot of Booksale branches. I amassed enough books to build a small library and a lot of these books I didn’t even read. I read first those I borrowed. Then soon life got in the way. College life.

The discovery of teenage angst and the psychological shock that is UP Diliman set the symphony for my small-scale love for music that eventually came to a raging crescendo. My bookshelf was replaced by a CD rack. I’d be honest to admit I bought mostly pirated CDs back then. Those were the days of Referendum when pirated CDs weren’t cheap and they came with proper CD sleeves (with lyrics and all). I amassed a lot of CDs (oh and DVDs as well), enough to put up my own radio station. Unlike the aforementioned books, at least I enjoyed most of these CDs until they skipped from constant play. But again life got in the way. Work life. The CDs became background music and I was obsessed with numbers, powerpoints and people.

Fast forward to ten years later. Downloaded MP3 killed the CD buyer. Looking at my personal expense summary, the money remaining after utilities, rent, financial obligations now goes to clothes and home improvement stuff. People close to me know that when I’m stressed out, I usually resort retail therapy and clothes and home stuff are my weakness and strength. Clothes are more of tools of the trade, e.g. you have to look sharp at work. I’m partial to Euro-Brit style which is casual but rightly put up (layered without being overdressed). Laid back but classic. As offshoot of this layering, jacket and outers became my collection of sorts. But I make sure I only have one per type (hoodie, sporty-vintage, casual-leathery…you get it). I even stick to classic and neutral colors so I don’t have to buy a lot. Same goes for shoes. One per type (formal, loafer, sneakers) and stick with neutrals. Red boat shoes look nice but too risqué for me. And difficult to match without looking like you got lost on your way to a magazine photoshoot. For a guy, I have amassed quite a number of jackets, shoes and uhmmm...bags.

Being a proud bachelor, I managed to be very territorial and obsessive about my space. Lately, my new “hobby” has been home improvement stuff. At this age, I like going home to a comfy, organized and stress-free abode. I’m a fan of minimalist look and I want to make my room worthy of an Ikea catalogue feature. I don’t know where I got my penchant for Ikea. I just like their simple and uncluttered look and multi-purpose and space-saving ideas. Over the past year, I have collected a lot of Ikea items; mostly bought and some given by dear friends as gifts or hand-me-downs. During my last trip to Malaysia, my luggage back was half-filled with Ikea items. It was a feat to squeeze them into 2 luggage.

From browsing at home improvement magazines, I have learned that you have to unify the look of your room by limiting the colors. The theme of my small room is black-white-soft brown. Makes it bigger and less cluttered. I am now in search of a dual-purpose bedside drawer. With a lot of retailers opening in Manila, I do hope Ikea will be here soon. The Ikea stuff I buy here are from handlers and price are quite absurd. But again, they are my guilty pleasures. Yes, I know these are but perks of being single. Call me names and push your pro-family agenda on me and I’ll just smile. I like it this way and I see these as more reasons to stay unattached. Oh well, that would be another blog entry. For now, I need my bedside drawer. And a tapered casual pants in light khaki. *** Found this related photo that just made me smile:

New North

Watches and compasses. Two things that have fascinated me as a kid. It amazes me how something I can place in the palm of my hand can measure a concept as intangible and infinite as time and direction. I feel conflicting emotions in watching the arrow or the dial move. Like watching the seconds of my life pass me by. In slow motion.

I’ve always had this morbid view of life. I never thought I’d grow up to be in my late twenties. Let alone early thirties. So early on, I developed this habit of making the most out of everything. Taking each moment like it’s the last. But soon real life got in the way and I got overruled by deadlines and schedules. It became most of me.

Until I found a renewed drive.

Drive. Passion. Motivation. The things that keep you going despite the odds that are stacked against you. Those memories or small voices that push you to go the extra mile even if your physical self has abandoned you some miles back.

Some would call it good vibes or positive energy. Well, they all result to one thing: the achievement of set goals.

Yesterday I met someone who is at the prime of his life. Fame, fortune, to-die-for girlfriend…you name it, he has it. But the thing that made my jaw drop is how he was able to do all of it: a Mon-Sat day job and being able to pursue his passions (food blogging and triathlon, to name a few). Plus a social life that is the toast of tinsel town. Part of me is convinced he is a vampire and I even dared ask if he sleeps. He claims to be an OC in anything he does and just balances and find time to do everything. That simple? There must be an algorithm to that which is only apparent to the chosen few. And he is the leader of the pack. He should place multimasker in his multi-hypenate curriculum vitae.

If he can do it, maybe I can too. Let me rephrase that. If he can do it, so can I. How’s that for starters.

No more excuses. No more downtime mulling over what could have been and what’s not there. It’s time to make it happen. It’s never too late to abandon the sick cycle carousel and be somewhere off the beaten track. The path where dreams come true. It may be more difficult but if I’m passing by greener pastures, no doubt it will be worth it.

I have found my new North and I am re-aligning my compass.

100 Days Of Summer

Actually it’s only 90+ days but that is still way too long for me. There was a time when I loved summer. Back in HS, it meant days of not doing anything but summer reading and hanging out with friends. But come college, summer meant attending subjects you flunked or had to catch up on since you transferred courses (I had a taste of both). Some years back, summer meant a hot blabbermouth who’s being chased by a cool geek.

Now I hate it even more because of the heat! It just antagonizes my cold, cold heart (#emo).

At least there’s the Holy Week. Not that I’m deeply spiritual (far from it, actually). For me summer officially starts with this week when the entire country pauses and repents (why we are still Third World despite the abundance of resources). It’s the only season when you are allowed to not do anything (vs Christmas and the holi-daze it brings).

So today is Maundy Thursday (declared a holiday because of the confusion whether it’s Monday or a Thursday…so corny I know but I am a sucker for puns). I chose to be on house arrest/staycation and it has been quite satisfying and productive.

I’ve finished the Hunger Games book (tick one off the Summer Break checklist). It now holds the record for the book I finished fastest: only 2 weekends. It’s PBB meets Survivor so I devoured it like a famished tribute from District 12. Haha. I’ll admit I can relate to Peeta and though expected, it saddened me when Rue had to go.

Cleaned my room. Not yet the general cleaning that I want but it’s refreshing to see that I have a floor and no used mugs or clothes in sight. I believe that you don’t know what you got until... you clean your room.

Downloaded and read the latest issue of Esquire. Kudos to the local team for another great issue (Bianca is hot and that she is smart is like icing on a body part). I am getting a hang at reading e-mags. I can take it anywhere (long as I have Bokbok) and less clutter. I realized lately that I have tons of magazines that have taken over my room.

Slept. Though I woke up at an ungodly hour, the afternoon nap is a luxury in itself.

Did some work. I can never relax when a deadline or unanswered email is ticking somewhere.

Perhaps this is the only lazy day I can afford from this long vacation. I have lot of tasks at hand. My only consolation is that I can tackle them at my own sweet time.

Or can I?


*Originally posted at www.barnieboi.tumblr.com

The Script Experience

They had me at “I’m not moving.”

I first came across them in 2008 when their first single We Cry was shown every hour on MTV; as they were then the featured new artist of the month. Frankly, I wasn’t that impressed. I mean I didn’t hate it but I didn’t dig it either. Then one afternoon, I stumbled upon a song that aptly described my emotional well-being (or lack thereof) at that moment. Only to discover that it was from the same folks that spawned We Cry.

I bought their debut album by virtue of that song which will eventually be their biggest hit here: The Man Who Can’t Be Moved. And to say that I was wowed with every song thereafter was an understatement. I am not exaggerating when I say their debut CD never left my player all these years; it was one of the few CDs I could listen to in its entirety. I even got to like We Cry because at some point I got its message.



So what’s with The Script? First and foremost, their songs speak the universal language of love and heartbreak. Ergo, everyone that’s ever been in love and had their heart broken can relate to their songs. Cheesy, I know. But try it. As a friend pointed out there is always a couple of lines in their songs that would scrape at your tortured heart until their pain is your pain. Aside from the heartfelt lyrics, their melodies are ear- and radio-friendly. Yes, their sound is more mainstream pop than other bands out there but it’s the kind of pop that you never outgrow. And did I mention that their songs are irresistibly sing-along as well?

So imagine my elation when I learned that they will come to Manila for a concert this April. To think that I almost gave in to a friend’s suggestion to catch them live in Hong Kong. Wanting a music fix, I planned to watch The Script and Switchfoot but my cousin had a brilliant plan to just get higher priced tickets to The Script. Unfortunately and as expected, the tickets sold out fast and we have no choice but to get a higher-than-planned tickets. First time that I would spend this much for two hours of aural pleasure and emo-ness. But I know it will be worth it. I was counting down the days to April 16.



Hats off to the organizers for staging it in Araneta. I missed a lot of good acts just because I hate the chosen venues (MOA concert grounds and The Fort being the ultimate turnoffs). That includes Lifehouse, Daughtry and Mandy Moore...yes, THE Mandy Moore during her Wild Hope tour! So you can see how picky I am when it comes to venue.

Weeks before they came, a friend asked out of the blue: Do you know The Script? It’s like you wrote their songs. Ok, I don’t know if that was a testament to my writing skills or a diss at my tendency to be emo. I’d take that as a complimentary barb.

I was practically invincible the week leading to April 16; it was the proverbial light at the end of the dark tunnel that was my work week. Days before, I had to listen to Science and Faith, their sophomore set. I’ve had it since it was released but my busy schedule prevented me from soaking in it. But if lead singles For The First Time and Nothing were any indication, this CD is far from the dreaded sophomore jinx; it was nothing short of brilliant.



Finally, April 16. We were in Araneta Center with some minutes to burn for dinner and revel in the excitement that is in the air. Last time I was here was 7 years ago I think. To watch Mandy Moore during her Cry and A Walk To Remember heyday.

Araneta, minutes before the concert, was already stoked. I swear the crowd went berserk when they started testing the lights and sounds. And then they went over-the-top when The Script finally took to the stage! Everyone was on their feet.

They started with You Won’t Feel A Thing, the opening track to their second album. Good choice since this U2-esque song is upbeat, uplifting and one of their more romantic songs (as opposed to their slew of tragic hits). Then it was one hit song after the other, interspersed with equally awesome unreleased tracks. The crowd was singing along to every song, but more loudly on their chartbusters.



For me these are their best five concert moments:

The Man Who Can’t Be Moved – of course, this was a given. What surprised us was that we were expecting this for the encore. But we were damn wrong. I thought Araneta would collapse when we heard the all-too-familiar opening strums. Danny challenged the crowd to sing...which we did of course. The experience was magical; like you were really a part of one big thing. Then Danny started over again to nail the song. At the end of it, he said it makes the hairs at the back of his neck rise when the audience sings back “I’m not moving.”

Science And Faith – One of their more affirmative love anthems. I listened to this song only recently and I saw its huge chart potential. I swear this song is even better sung live. And I had a geekgasm when their backdrop showed flying chemical symbols and math formulas a la 3D. I love this song so much this is now my new ringtone.

Nothing – they narrated a story on how this song came to be. Apparently this was written by Danny (a.k.a Master of Drunken Songwriting) in one of his alcohol-laced stupors (or breakdowns, for that matter). They swore that nothing gets their creative juices flowing like alcohol. So I guess I’m on the write track...I mean RIGHT track. Haha!

The unnamed song – of course I know the title of this song. I just can’t say it because it is way too personal...like bulls-eye personal (so please allow me to keep this a mystery). I was pleasantly surprised when they actually sang this as this was unreleased. Yes, I almost died when I heard the first lines.

Breakeven – In likely concert drama, they said their goodbye but it was obvious that they will have an encore... they haven’t performed two big hits! This and For The First Time. We were all chanting Breakeven! Breakeven! Hence, this became their final act and an excellent way to end the already awesome night.

Bonus: In Talk You Down, it was rather charming when Danny changed London to Manila in the lyrics. Also, as expected the audience roared every time Danny will say something in Tagalog. Yes, the token Mabuhay and Mahal ko kayo in that unmistakable Irish twang.



While the audience were captivated by The Script’s performance, trust it to the Manila crowd to turn the tables. The band, too, were overwhelmed by the audience’s response. At one point I saw Danny cover his mouth agape in awe when he heard the audience singing. Also many times he would exclaim “Oh, you should see what I am seeing right now.”

Overall, it was a show that was everything I wished it will be. Props to The Script for the no-frill, no-nonsense performance. They let the sheer power of their music wash over the audience. I was on my feet the entire time and I was singing along at the start of every song but I have to stop myself so I can hear them sing. My body can’t decide if it will jump and sing or be still and take a video. So most of the videos I took ended up shaky and blurred. I won’t post them here as I know there are better videos posted on YouTube.

The stage backdrop was also simply enchanting; the lighting was downplayed but dramatic and the background videos would subtly complement the songs. I totally loved the street corner video shown as they were singing The Man Who Can’t Be Moved and the numbers on Talk You Down.



It was a short two hours but they sang everything you want them to sing...and more. They have 10 songs each in their two albums and judging from the songs I didn’t hear, I think they sang 16 of the 20 songs. If I had one complaint, it will be that they didn’t sing Live Like We’re Dying, their B-side song that was popularized by AI winner Kris Allen.

The Script promised to come back and though the energy and magic of this night will last me a lifetime, I will defy science and faith just to catch them again.

P.S. To cap off this splendid night, I saw my biggest local celebrity crush when we were exiting Araneta. This is the third time I’ve seen her up close but I’m still spellbound. She is just so simple and elegant. Sigh.

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These are some of The Scripts tweets. You can tell they were equally pleased with their Manila visit.



As their Twitter follower, I know they always take a photo of their concert audience. This was their Manila money shot: