Me, Myself and Serenity

After the hurly-burly of our Business Review week comes the delicious meltdown...joke, I mean SLOW DOWN (to the unfamiliar, our world revolves around acing the BR presentation during this week). The calmness after the storm.

I’ve been waiting for this moment. I’ve made plans...or to be more precise, I didn’t make plans. I unconsciously freed myself from any weekend getaways, family obligations or the shadows of my work. I haven’t been this “vacant” in a long time.

My weekend bag is packed. The Do-Not-Disturb mask is in mint condition.

I have downloaded the latest Keane CD so I can just soak in their tuneful lamentations and sarcastic world-weariness. I have also retrieved the OST of Garden State. Music in between dreams.

I have queued two DVDs that I have longed to watch in long time. One is a light romantic drama similar to How I Met Your Mother, which was highly recommended by a colleague. Maybe, I will definitely watch it (there goes your clue). The other is an Academy Award-winning sardonic drama revolving around a teenage pregnancy... and witty verbal intercourse.

If time will be so kind, then I will also breeze through the pages of the latest Anita Shreve novel I bought. Shreve’s sombre prose is sure to quiet what rage is inside of me.

The old me is back, the one that is wary of social encounters. It’s just me and my escapist multi-media allies, languishing in my safe, make-believe bubble.

So excuse me while I go vegetate.


***

To the “unfeeling”, don’t push me to spell it out for you. I will go where I want to and I will volunteer myself if I want to. And there are many things I don’t want anymore. Once bitten, twice shy. So I really hope you will get it.

Go practice your wretched enchantments on someone else. I have paid the price and I’m still paying for it every day.

I stand still because I have work to do. Operative word: WORK. I’m not here for anything ELSE.

I choose my own battles. Same as I choose my own perimeter. You already gave me a convincing portrayal of your beloved insignificance. Clap, clap.


***

I’ve been gifted with the gut feel to judge characters accurately. Within seconds of the initial meeting, I will know if a person is worth the trouble and the investment. Maybe I am psychic and I can read one’s character aura, if ever there is one. Believe me, there are people whose aura screams “caution,” like that ominous warnings on poison bottles.

I’ve made the mistake of stepping within striking distance of these ominous auras. I silenced that trusty voice inside and listened to the betraying voice of compassion. Yeah, shame on me.

I can look you straight in the eye (because I did you no wrong) and I just laugh inwardly at how you retreat like a shrinking violet. I have never seen GUILT so tangible and so obvious.

Cheers...to the NOTHING that you are.


***

Photo courtesy of Carminico on Flickr.

The Weight Of Water

I am one of those people who feel happy when it rains. Part of me thinks the rains will wash down the putrid taste of my blunders and make the world new again. Unconsciously, I will dangle my arms out and feel the cleansing droplets.

Water off the duck’s back. I’ve loved that expression since I was a child. A lesson in being invincible and impervious.

Sometimes I think if I play the sad song often enough, then I will be wary of the melodic sting it brings. If I tell the story often enough, then it will ease the hurt and make the words slide down my arms and away from me like rainwater.

As the heavens open, I let go of my pain and let it fall like rain from my eyes.

Bridge Over Poignant Waters

I’ve read countless books. I started reading early, during fourth grade. It was the awkward “limbo” grade, where nothing really happened. It was probably my most boring school year so I found myself one day in the dark corridors of our library.

I remember our library then was at the back of the huge stage (the Broadway-type one with heavy curtains) fronting our quadrangle. My elementary school is home to a lot of other-worldly ghost stories (kaya nga may SPIRIT sa name...joke) and being in that dark, musty library gives you the literal and figurative chills. It was like entering a huge cellar or dungeon and half the time I have to check to see if there are still people around...real people.

Being a reading neophyte, I pulled out a fairy tale compilation book (go easy on the chuckles…I was in fourth grade!). It was as huge as a one-half-size illustration board. I remember lugging it from the library to my school service. I cringe now remembering how silly I might have looked back then.

The rest as they say… is “pages and pages” of history. My love for print soon escalated to almost-addiction. By sixth grade I have ravished all the hardbound Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books in our new library (our school moved to a new location when I was in fifth grade). My name became famous for being the most-seen name on the borrower’s card pasted at the back of the books. And it became no surprise that after school, I became a regular at our now well-lit-by-sunshine library as a student-librarian (a.k.a Book Lovers Club member).

From fairy tales, I’ve moved to more mature books...the thick bestsellers. Sidney Sheldon. Stephen King. John Grisham. Nicholas Sparks. Patricia Cornwell. Anita Shreve. Yes, even Danielle Steele and Nora Roberts. You name it, chances are I’ve read it. My extra allowance was spent on books and soon I had my own private mini library. But the weird part is that I seldom read the books I buy. I read the ones I borrow.

Like people, there are books that forever change the way you see things. And there are books that pull you in its own vortex of swirling emotions. Until your heart bleeds. I am man enough to admit that there are two books that have made me cry.

This Saturday, I was wandering into a bargain bookstore. Then I saw "it". I reached for it and gingerly touched its hardbound cover. Without looking, I can still remember what the cover looks like. But seeing it again I was transported back in time, and the emotions I felt while reading it came rushing back. I stand there, sober and melancholic for some time.

The book is only 171-pages long but the poignant story transcends a lifetime. What took me aback was that the story was rather simple; it’s something you can read from a standard Mills & Boon novel. But there is a surreal power in the story that really tugs at your heartstrings. The characters were so real and their dilemma was so excruciatingly simple and deliciously tragic that you end up wishing things have been different for them. Their loss became your loss.

Call me sappy. But the love atheist in me somehow succumbed to the sentimental beauty of this novel.

The book is called The Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Waller. And yes, I did buy it... again.




***

He stood there and stared. Neither of them moved, they already had said goodbye. For thirty seconds he stood there, his photographer’s eyes missing nothing, making their own image that he would never lose.

He closed the door, ground the gears, and was crying again as he turned left on the country road toward Winterset. He looked back just before a grove of trees would block his view and saw her sitting cross-legged in the dust where the lane began, her head in her hands.


***

P.S. Because of my inner connection with this book, I refused to watch the movie version even if starred the great Meryll Streep and Clint Eastwood. I believe no one can do justice to a book this powerful.

And I tried reading other Robert James Waller novels but nothing came close. Everything paled compared to this.

In my bucket list, I want to write a book this earnest. In a world full of digital dreams and where relationships are downloaded and deleted by a mere touch of a fingertip, it’s nice to go back to a more basic tragedy: the meeting of destined souls no matter what the odds are and the search for that ever-elusive belongingness.

Superhuman

A few months back, I was “human”, in almost every sense of the word. I succumbed to unapologetic flaws… to frailty… to faultless compassion… and to nondescript sociability. I had that impeccable understanding of human nature. I became fluid where I was once impenetrable. I tried living for the moment. All in the spirit of keeping it REAL.

But I learned a little too late that REALITY is an unforgiving, backstabbing and cold-hearted bitch.

So now I am back to my semi-former self (I want to put “former self” here but TP would disagree with me). I am again a… Wall-E. The comforting barrier is again up and the person I was recently has retreated to that bittersweet place only I know and understand.

I have rediscovered my Scorpio personality, most notably that eye-for-an-eye mentality (and yes, this serves as a threat…beware the wrath of angels). I have engaged in one too many stoic, one-sided conversations. I have attended one too many Tupperware parties, if you know what I mean. THEY WANT GAME, THEN I’VE GOT GAME. Garbage in, garbage out.

Call me ruthless, call me insensitive. But I won’t be the suffering stupid anymore. With me, you get what you deserve. As simple as that. I am not playing god, I am just reflecting pieces of you.

Maybe it’s better this way.

Am I happy? Well, I have always believed that happiness is a choice. You can be happy in any circumstance. I can find happiness in being this “invincible.” From human, I am now superhuman (insert cruel laughter here).

***

I’ve given up hope
Losing the faith that life
Could be mine to treasure
And now nothing’s the same
I found myself reborn
Coz the truths I used to hold
Have changed

Hodgepodge (Early October)

THINGS I AM THANKFUL FOR (LATELY)

1. Wifi – one of God’s gift to tech-whore and workaholics like me
2. the Notes option on my phone – the next best thing to Post-its (for OCs like me).
3. Weekends with nothing urgent to do...just chillax (as A would call it). I usually start weekends like this by cleaning the room that I have neglected for the week (read: empty bottles here and there) and cap it off by blogging.
4. Flavored Water (Propel and Vitwater) – I know it’s weird but I just can’t drink flat out water (especially straight from the fridge). With flavored water, I can finally meet my liquid requirement for the day.
5. Spontaneous getaway for the weekend – better than those planned ones that don’t push through because of conflicting schedules.

***

RELEASE ME

Being a self-confessed music enthusiast, I have developed the uncanny ability to decipher a potential hit from a newly released album (of course, other than the carrier single). Friends, who have asked for burned copies of the songs I am playing, are surprised that some of those songs have not even been released in commercial radio/video channels.

Here are my recent discoveries. Download them before it gets released and jolog-ized by pop radio.

1. I Stay In Love (Mariah Carey, E=MC2 album) – should have been MC’s third single instead of I’ll Be Loving U Long Time. Here’s hoping she is saving this mid-tempo jewel to create buzz in time for Grammy nominations in November.
2. Latest Mistake (Mandy Moore, Wild Hope album) – the sweetest self-deprecating heartbreak song
3. The Best You Never Had (Leona Lewis, Spirit Album) – a killer it’s-your-loss-not-mine heartbreak song
4. Lesson Learned (Alicia Keys feat. John Mayer, As I Am album) – as earnest as Goodbye, another unreleased winning track from her debut album
5. What About Now (Daughtry) – I already handpicked this track since I first listened to their debut album. Now, they have officially made this their fourth single
6. Stupid For You (Marie Digby, Unfold album)

***

REVIEW CAPSULE

Winner:

The modern dance interpretation of Bleeding Love in ASAP ’08 about two weekends ago. It was refreshing in a jaw-dropping way. It was only ruined by the occasional misstep of Toni Gonzaga.

As of presstime, this has been imitated by that trying-hard-copy-cat rival show from the other network. As per C, the results were “super pangit.” Well, what can you expect from THAT show (SOP Sucks...hahaha)

Loser:

For The First Time. I have always applauded Star Cinema for walking the fine line between substance and commercial viability. For the first time... Star Cinema made a movie that is cringing in its blandness. I almost walked out of the cinema. When the movie lost its footing (around the time when the coosome twosome failed to settle their differences in Greece), it never recovered. The disasters just kept on coming: the family dilemma was so forced (unlike in A Very Special Love), Philip Salvador’s acting is so bad and only Candy Pangilinan and her unknown partner had some acting mettle. Given that the two leads only have beautiful faces to redeem their lacklustre acting, the movie should have been saved by a good script/plot. Unfortunately, I have seen a lot of Maalaala Mo Kaya (or even Your Song) episodes that are way better than this horrendous movie.

***

Office buddy C sent me this quote some months ago, during a time when it meant the most:

“We can be fine even when others do not have a good opinion of us. After all, what matters is not what others think of us, but what we think of ourselves. And a truly intelligent person is one who can pretend to be a fool in front of a fool who pretends to be intelligent...”

Again... stone, stone in the sky.

***

Enemies make the most interesting friends

Adios, Mi Amigo Asero-je

In a weird tale of tables being turned, we bade adieu to one of the newest additional to the Marketing family. In the exact time that I should be planning my own despidida, I ended up planning for HIS.

Truth to tell, Mark became one of my silver linings. Together with his cohorts (you know who you are) they helped me forget what I’ve been through or what I’m going through. They helped restore my faith in a lot of things. Like the classic quote from one of my fave movies (sshhh...it’s OMC)...maybe the reason we lose some things...is because we can find something better.

Alas...some good things are not meant to last. Although it seemed like he just passed us by, he did leave us with the proverbial smile on our faces.

Ten Things We Will Miss About Mark

1. The booming laugh. Not to mention that he can’t stop himself from laughing at even the most trivial of things. Be warned: this is proven to be contagious.

2. The Bottomless Reservoir of Jokes and Wisecracks. Everything from the politically incorrect to the Benby-colored (read: green jokes) and the pa-simple personal attacks (mukha syang nasobrahan ng Pantene!). Whenever I feel down, I just think about his jokes (most especially the cono girl with a camote) and soon I will be laughing by myself.

3. His Colloquial Terms. He brought a lot of words to our ever-growing Marketing lexicon/jargon. Most notably: Juicekoh! (exclaimed in his own plaintive tone)... Sorry naman... Korny-kornykouva (for the low jokes)... na-Ethel (for the not-so-intelligent moments)...and who can forget... te quiero (used as thank you or for lack of something to say).

4. The High-School-Musical Moments. How he will just break into a song while we are all seriously doing our BR/presentations. And he has a great voice, mind you. The problem is that he is always at a loss for lyrics. He will then sing in his own brand of multilingual lyrics that never fails to catapult me in a laughing frenzy.

5. The Never-Ending Pop References. I seldom encounter a person who can match my brand of jologs pop references (from songs, movies, TV shows). Who can ever understand the Inay Magda look... the shower scene moments... the “lahaaaat...lahat” exasperated expression...or “Abakada...Ina” moments. As Mark would say, it’s not being jologs, it’s being in touch with popular culture (whatever, Mark, you're such a loser).

6. His bloopers. Who can forget the “5-star” moment during a very tension-filled business review and his “shitzhu massage” comment in our meeting with Fitness First. Or that one time when he memorized all the crucial data before our BR presentation...only to be thrown a question that he has not prepared for. The look on his face...priceless. And what about that fateful day when he fell from his office chair.

7. The names we call him. Hagrid...because of his huge frame. While I am “Kuya”, he is “Big Big Brother.” Siopao because of his surname. Kuya Kim or Atienza because of his get-up. And of course, Asero-je (foh-hooor the first time!)

8. The fiesta meals he will always order...especially during lunchtime.

9. The funny faces he will make during group photos. And the priceless poses (the elevator FHM shot and the STI look, to name a few). And who can forget the Mark Opao smile.

10. The car/road trip moments. There is never a dull time when you are with Mark. Either we are playing our pop trivia games or we are engaged in a cerebral conversation. While he may seem child-like in a lot of things, he can be quite mature when the situation calls for it. He has this air of empathy that never fails to connect to you.

On a serious note, I wish you all the best, my friend (said in an "SS" tone). As I said during my despidida dedication...I now know why you are named such...you always leave a MARK. I will forever cherish the five months of stress (LOL) and unending laughter. I don’t need to tell you that someone of your calibre will go places...I just hope that you find your rightful place in the sun....sometime soon.

Many happy trails until we meet again. Ahi te quiero ver, Aseroje!

Tantrums To A Secret God

I want to tell you that your words still cut deep into the recesses of my cold, black heart. But like an empty echo, it just fades into nothingness. The champagne taste of your mediocrity and hypocrisy.

I want to resuscitate you as you bleed from the truth. But every time I summon that modicum of benevolence, I remember the multiple crosses that you bestowed upon these weathered shoulders.

I want to tell you I wince as you feel each painful breath. But short of being the insensitive waif that you are, I am too numbed by my sub-zero disposition. The absence of the sun and the ever so bleak panorama.

If being mature means I have to be moulded by the sad cookie cutter that spawned you, then I’d rather stagnate in my self-imposed regression.

Forgiveness is something I don’t pluck from the thin air that slowly dried me after I was stupefied by your betraying rains.

I am too blessed to be the eggshells that you walk upon. I am not buying your innocence...your know-it-all grin... your nonchalance.... more so your self-serving machinations. The irony is that I am too mature to be a victim of all that. I have mastered your game. I have learned to rise above the hand I was dealt with.

My faith in you has died a thousand deaths. I refuse to dance the same tantrum to your secret god.

In this rebel darkness, I discovered who you are. AND WHAT I CAN BE.

****

I can think of a million ways
You’ve proved you are not the one
To live inside your shades of grey
And never mind the sunshine that I find

A Short Fable

An EAGLE made her nest at the top of a lofty oak. A CAT, having found a convenient hole, moved into the middle of the trunk that tree. Then, a SOW, with her young, took shelter in a hollow at its foot.

The Cat cunningly resolved to destroy this chance-made colony. To carry out her design, she climbed to the nest of the Eagle and said, "Destruction is preparing for you, and for me too, unfortunately. The Wild Sow, whom you see daily digging up the earth, wishes to uproot the oak, so she may on its fall seize our families as food for her young."

Having thus frightened the Eagle out of her senses, she crept down to the cave of the Sow, and said, "Your children are in great danger; for as soon as you go out with your litter to find food, the Eagle is prepared to pounce upon one of your little pigs."

Having instilled these fears into the Sow, she went and pretended to hide herself in the hollow of the tree. When night came she went forth on silent foot and obtained food for herself and her kittens, but pretended to be afraid; she kept a lookout all through the day.

Meanwhile, the Eagle, full of fear of the Sow, sat still on the branches and the Sow, terrified by the Eagle, did not dare to go out from her cave. And thus they both, along with their families, perished from hunger, and afforded ample provision for the Cat and her kittens.


***

Moral of the story...do not seek shelter on the oak tree where there is a cat. Ok, I am being sarcastic. As they always say...”stone, stone in the sky”...

Windburn (A Mighty Wind, Part 2)

The time between arriving
And finally leaving
Is sometimes called
LEARNING A LESSON.

***

Some say we have to let go of the past. Others say that we must hold on to it and let its lessons direct our future. I say the past made me who I am today. I am not a slave of the past...I am more of the product of the past. I live in the NOW, but the magic and the tragedy of the yesteryear remains my blueprint in life.

***

The dawning of a new light splashes the kaleidoscope with immaculate colors. Somehow, it adds sparkle to the already bruised and livid panorama. Somewhere, a promising sunshine is beginning to emerge from the dissipating clouds. And with it comes the unfolding of the proverbial silver lining.

As I float in my ethereal sea of cynicism and anarchy, I realize that though the mighty wind banished so many things, it did usher some new revelations. To push the envelope further, it was what’s FRAGILE that was swept by this mighty wind. The staggering and the deep-seated remains the same. A test of strength if you can call it.

As the tide ebbs and flows, it is nostalgic to see the remnants of the shattered past drifting in shambles. The slice of paradise that was scrutinized under an unforgiving microscope and given a different color. The bonds that brought us together and eventually teared us apart. The dual faces who made mountains out of molehills and who will soon fall from their make-shift pedestals.

There is nothing like regret, to remind you you’re alive.

Anyway, soon I will leave most of it behind. My sights are set on the promise of the horizon. And the fulfilment of a long-standing oracle.

***

The world became familiar
Like the mystery shape of your heart
But the burns on my fingers
Were all that was left of the spark

Sight. Sound. Stillness.

I see
The horrors you refuse to acknowledge
The faces that all look hauntingly the same
The price that was too high to pay
The history that was swept under the rugs
The distance that has taken me from you
The weakness that did you in and dealt me out
Your self-congratulatory pretensions
The pictures you paint in careless black
The light you held for other people
The resultant darkness that led to my temporary blindness

I hear
The sickening thud of reality crashing to the floor
The silence that resonates and speaks volumes
The disarming sound of promises that were meant to be broken
The echo of joy disappearing in the chasm of despair
The joke that was on me and your distinctive laughter
My effervescent laughter as I cherish what remains
The beckoning of a greener pasture
The silent tears from friendly eyes that recognize my surrender
The clash of your forlorn internal battle
The ticking of the clock that signals the beginning to an end

I feel
Nothing
Still

No Pressure Over Cappucino

I don’t know if it is coincidence or just plain art imitating life. Somehow I always find the right book to read at a particular point in my life. Now that I am in an unforgiving crossroad, I perused to read a book that an officemate pressured me to read (howdy, P!). How she knew that book would strike a chord in me remains fathomable. Of late, I have been drifting in my pristine sea of cynicism, and this book surprisingly made sense.

The book is called How Starbucks Saved My Life, an autobiographical novel by Michael Gates Gill. Mike talks about how he had it all: an enviable career, a passport to the higher echelons of society, a 7th Heaven-ish family life...practically the world at the palm of his hand. And then his human foibles got the better of him and he lost it all. He was fired, he got broke, his marriage dissolved and he needed a brain operation.

Forced to pick up the pieces of his shattered life, he was given an opportunity to work as a barista in Starbucks. Working on other side of the corporate fence gave him a new lease on life; a newfound respect for himself and the people around him. Consciously, he embraced the happiness that he never found in his previous life, despite having it all.

Gates’ story is an ordinary story of redemption but somehow it reads like a slap in the face for those people who are slaves of their job and their lifestyles. I am one of them.

Do not get me wrong. This book is not your Sunday service sermon but more of an eye opener and a reality check. Mike dishes the painful truth that we become ruled by our past and the what-might-have-beens, that we miss out on the beauty of the NOW. Then he gives us the way out: that this is something we CHOOSE to be. We always have the power to let go, learn, move on and actually... LIVE.

Mike also shows us how to look at the issues and non-issues. And life’s incorrigible irony that we often lose the things we take for granted, or realize their worth much too late. Maybe some of us will not have the chance, like Mike, to rediscover it all again.

Here are my choice lines from this book.
- Let go of the sadness, give up the fight. Follow your madness and take flight.
- More of the future, less of the past
- Will yourself to have a child’s positive attitude: HI and BYE are equally exciting.
- You only need a few friends who understand you and remain your friend.
- It is a gift to be able to take all that happened to you in such a lighthearted spirit, a genuine sense of humor about a mixed-up world.
- They told you that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. What they failed to tell you is what you look like isn’t important. What is important is who you are inside and the choices you are making in your life.

In this world that is defined by inclusive hatred and competitive anger; and where we communicate through damage, Mike’s story offers a method to the madness and a proof that we can rise above any adversary. His turnaround is nothing legendary or beyond the scope of the everyday man. It was as simple as getting over your spilt Venti Caramel Macchiato and discovering happiness in a Short Skim Latte.

In This Skin

And when the world is on its knees with me
It's fine
And when I come to the rescue
I get nothing but left behind


***
Some people find it hard to believe that I am a reluctant achiever. I never thought of myself as extraordinary, or special even. I know I have my share of positive attributes, but who doesn’t have one. Early in life I’ve been taught not to malign others just because you are better in one aspect. I bet you they are better than you in another aspect. Everything can sum up to equilibrium.

Somehow, the diamond-in-the-rough in me is polished by pressure and circumstances until I shone. Which is not a bad thing. But it has become a blessing and a curse. There are times when I wanted to be ordinary, a John Doe, and not be singled out. Sometimes I check if I have an ominous mark on my forehead. Yes, like Harry Potter.

Back in high school, I belonged to a “special” Saturday class composed of the “best” students from different schools. For the first few weeks, I hated it there. I felt I was outside looking in. I asked myself many times what I was doing there. It was my first taste of a dog-eat-dog world where people were trying to outdo themselves. I have enough on my plate already and I don’t need that. I came so close to quitting but my adviser told me that quitting meant giving up on our school. Pressure, pressure...and so I persevered.

One humid Saturday afternoon, during a lunch break in that special class, I found myself sharing a table with our Math mentor. He asked about my life and other personal stuff. Then in a surreal moment, like something from a movie where an oracle is about to be unveiled (complete with leaves being slowly buffeted by the tepid wind and weak sunshine), he changed his tone. He said: “I see something in you. You are destined for greatness. No matter what you do or where you go, you are sure to reap achievements.”

I thought he was just fulfilling his mentor duty and maybe he said that to each of us, considering that we are anyway, “chosen people” already.

At the end of that special class, I was given two medals: one from our Math mentor and the other for being the “over-all stand-out”. I was stupefied because I never expected to get anything out of that class (heck, I didn’t even know they gave out awards). I just wanted to get it over and done with.

Then, on a Tuesday night many years later, those words came back to haunt me again.

***

In one of those out-of-the-blue moments, a friend (A) came up with this weird theory. She said: You know what your problem is? You write such beautiful tragic masterpieces. I remember in college, during your worst heartbreak, I was crying over the heart-rending letters you wrote but never gave to the intended recipient. But on the outside, you remained unaffected and carried that devil-may-care attitude.

And then she continued: You divert anguish into something worthwhile. I don't know how you do it but you manage to find the beauty in the breakdown. Hence, you are giving the world a reason not to make you happy. Sira ulo ka talaga!

Ironically, we ended up laughing hysterically.

***

The best thing about us humans is that we are all tragically flawed. But we have the power to make our own choices and decisions based on the hand we are dealt with. We can spell our successes and our downfalls. All our choices boil down to half chances.

Spiderman said that we are the choices we make. And I say: IT IS NOT WHAT YOU DO, BUT WHO YOU ARE. Oh, tragic human nature!

***

While doing a school project for my little brother, I came upon these quotables, all mined from Aesop’s fables:

- It is easy to despise something you cannot get.
- He who has many friends, have no friends.
- Do not attempt too much at once.
- Not everything you see is what it appears to be.
- It is not only fine feathers that make a fine bird.

Oh well. If only everything was this crystal and this simple.

***

I blog for its therapeutic effects and for the fear that if I don’t use what writing prowess I posses, it would fade into nonexistence. I immortalize my thoughts and my words in cyberspace with the wild wish that someone out there can get something from it. Consider it my own personal good deed.

I read before that being a writer is like going around with your pants down. I know doing so makes me an easy target for mockery and judgment. But who cares?

Sometimes I feel sheepish when I receive a text from someone claiming that they read my blog; to be followed by some “fishing” on something cryptic I wrote.

For the record, I write stuff online but I don’t write everything. There are thoughts that are still residing in some corner of my cortex and are better left unwritten. Or unsaid for that matter.

So the next time you say “nice blog,” realize that you don’t know me completely. What you read is an abridged, watered-down version of my life. But feel free to judge me, however. After all, I used to make a living out of proving people wrong and correcting their mistakes.

***

There’s a light, a revelation
It shines with the thought of you
We made things so complicated
Now I see the simple truth

Empty

It’s easier to believe
In the glorious madness
That brings me to my knees
Let me be empty and weightless
And maybe I’ll find some peace


****

I had the chance to be with the old gang this week, after what seems like eternity. As with our past gathering, we realize that everyone has aged a bit, not in looks but in experience. Well, LIFE happened to each of us and each one has a story to tell. Dim the lights and let the pain unravel.

R, the strongest physically, is crumbling inside as he confronts his usual demons. SR wins the award for biggest turnaround, but she is still the same fondly immature baby we have loved since then. SC, my alter-ego, still spews caustic acid and his trademark cooler-than-thou lamentations.

Some things changed but somehow we remain the same. That’s the beauty of it. No matter what kind of hand we are dealt with, we know that what we have is WAY ABOVE it.

Being with these people puts my life in perspective. I’m still facing the mighty wind and since the die has been cast, I expect things will never be the same again. For some people, that is.


****


TO EACH, HIS OWN. That has always been my personal philosophy. I make it a point to respect other people’s opinions, decisions, choices, even their feelings. Especially if it does not affect my life whatsoever, or to put it ever so bluntly – especially if it is none of my business. How stupid I was to expect this from other people.

A friend (M) asked me where I find the strength to walk on. I said it is the will to tie some loose ends and consequently make it easier for a handful of people. That I would be good, even if I was overwhelmed.

Silence, indifference, nonchalance, distance. Hearts, spades, clubs, diamonds.

For the record, you did not knock the wind out of me. As difficult as it is, I can still breathe. Come on, can’t you feel it down your neck?! But the point is...WHAT’S THE POINT?

Go ahead, be my guest. Resent it just because it was the best you NEVER had.

Try as I might to fight it, it was the principle of last touch that lingered. Disenchantment has re-etched cynical clues in this weary heart. I tried holding on to the last vestige of emotions, be it smothering pain or a sliver of bliss, from some supposedly indelible memory. But even those have faded to mediocrity. There was NOTHING. I am devoid of feelings...I just feel EMPTY.

If only for the first and last time, I’ll think (mostly) of myself. The countdown begins...tick-tock…tick-tock.


*****

Funny how one can learn
To grow numb to the madness
And block it away
I left the worst unsaid
Let it all dissipate
As I tried to forget

A Mighty Wind

If you could only see
What life has made of me
Then I’ll no longer be in you mind
The different kind


There are many grey areas in life. Often, you do not choose your own hell. It is chosen for you. Where I am now could be some half-life; a mutation engineered by the need of others to preserve themselves and further complicated by rapacity. Damn human nature if it is that unscrupulous.

They say God is in the details and it was in the details that I found my reprieve. But then, details don’t matter at all when we are both paying the price. And so I was short-changed…what else is new? I know there is a world bigger than us, but you can never chastise me for living for the moment. My world does not revolve around “other” people, if you know what I mean. Anyway, that’s just me.

I can understand the lies that were borne out of hurt or the need to defend oneself. What I don’t understand are the distorted assumptions, the senseless meddling and the charades that were played just to forward one’s personal agenda. The people in glass houses who were audacious enough to cast stones.

For now I will stand still. Someday soon, when the dust has cleared and when eyes have been unclouded, maybe I will have my word. Or maybe not. Maybe I will just wait for reality to come crashing for some people.

For now this will be my official statement: If you have a certain belief about something, you can twist EVERYTHING to confirm, substantiate and re-affirm that belief of yours.

With all the muddled and deluded thoughts going around, only one thing is clear: the final nail has been placed on the coffin. Or to sound more positive...I recognize a sign when I see one.

I walk through life knowing I am man enough to face the consequences of my actions. I can and I will swallow my bitter pill. I can and I will face my necessary evils. I have played the role of the fall guy, the punching bag, the unsung hero, or what have you, many times before. With that comes a resultant resilience to self-destruction. Somebody told me before that I will never get over it, but I will get used to it. I'll let my soul be my pilot.

Forgive, maybe… but I can’t forget it. Everyday I live with it. I fake a smile and deal with the SIDE EFFECTS but I won’t let it get the best of me.

Now tell me…how do I redefine something that never had a name?


****


All around me are familiar places, worn-out faces
Bright and early for the daily races, going nowhere
The tears are filling up their glasses, no expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very, very mad world.


****


With this, I would like to immortalize my immense appreciation for FIVE PEOPLE (you know who you are) who kept their candles burning as I face this mighty wind. As you made me promise, I will never stop believing... so long as there are people like you who give me enough reasons to still believe. Sometimes, I don't understand the logic of your kind of trust. But all the strength that I need is your FAITH.

Celebrating 33 Years..."J"-Style

He wanted to make it something special and rightfully so. It has been 33 years since one of the finest people to ever walk this planet (naks) was born. Then, after everything is said and done, he has sped past his one year mark at our beloved company. Double the reason, double the fun.


May 26 Going 27

Sidebar: Until now, I cannot fathom that it was only a year ago since he became part of the “family.” With the many things that have happened, it does feel like centuries already.

It has been the tradition in our inner circle to come up with a birthday surprise. J’s actual birthday fell on a Tuesday and since we are usually together Monday nights, it was quite easy gathering the flock. The challenge is how to keep the surprise a secret.

Knowing J’s gift for prognostication, he knew what was coming and at the back of my mind, I knew he knows… and he was making it easy for us. First is the extension of our game so that we will finish near midnight already. Then he wanted me to drive (so I have control of our destination after the game and he never questioned where we were going). Then he would try to distance himself when I would try to talk to TA for the next steps of our plan. (Later, he would show me a text he composed as proof that he knew “my plan”).

Since I was with him most of Monday night, the birthday “paraphernalia” are with the others. My task was to bring him to MK where his birthday surprise awaits. To cut a long story short, we were enjoying Persian food when he turned a year older. Then we dished out the requisite card, the cake and the dessert. We only held off the gift giving since his official celebration is not until the weekend

Footnote: TA made a funny dedication on J’s card: You are 33 now…remember what happened to Jesus Christ and Alexander the Great when they turned 33. Bwahaha!

Celebrating One’s Birthday…J-Style

It was months in the making and it was a feat in itself that we did not have (the usual) photo finish for this. After meticulous online research and one rewarding ocular inspection, the venue was secured a month before. (J, from the start, wanted an overnight stay at a private resort. That way, people will have fun just drinking the night away and not worry on driving home later.)

The invitation and guest list was finalized 2 weeks prior. The Committee on Food (also know as his former sales group) was set-up a week before. It was only the booze that we have to procure during the 11th hour. The carpool assignment was nailed down earlier as well.

The invitation drew “wows” from the recipients. It was proof that J meant business when it comes to having fun.

The timing was near-perfect: it was the end of the month. But we still have some last-minute work to do so it was quite late when we started our journey to Pansol. J and I have to make three stops before we were truly south-bound. The other carpools have to wait and have dinner at Petron SlEx so we were able to catch-up and were actually the second to arrive at the venue. But we were so famished that we bought some roasted chicken along the way and immediately pounced on it, san utensils, upon arriving at the venue.

The venue is a private resort at Miramonte Village. It boasts of a swimming pool, three air-conditioned bedrooms with two queen size beds, a big kitchen with gas stove and ref, a barbeque grill and a 3-car garage. And of course, the staple in every gig we plan: a videoke machine. The venue can accommodate 30 people but we only expected around 18. But then some people have to bail out on the last minute because of personal alibis (hehe) so the final count was 13.

The others soon arrived and we immediately unloaded the food and started making late dinner-cum-booze matches (ano ba ang English ng pulutan?). The rollicking celebration for J’s birthday was swinging in no time. Here are the highlights of the event:

1.The videoke-fest. It started with the so-called personal anthems (ok, mine was Pain In My Heart). Then the signature hits (TP with Barry Manilow, birthday boy with Kalapana). We even competed on whose rendition of Half Crazy will score the highest (the winner was C and surprisingly, I was second). We were so addicted with videoke singing that we had to bring the mike and song booklist near the edge of the pool so we can sing while swimming. The song of the day was Broken Vow (I think we sang it 246 times). But the best performance of the night was MM who brought the house down with his wacky (to say the least) rendition of Superman and Tubthumping. It has been immortalized on video for blackmail purposes. It will soon appear on YouTube with the caption: MM After Just One Shot of Tequila.




2.The Survivor Pansol Moments. Though we planned everything meticulously, sometimes you tend to forget some things…important things at that. I packed a knife and can opener just to be sure. We also reminded the grocery people to buy plastic utensils. But what we forgot were the tongs for grilling and pots and pans for cooking. So we were grilling food using just barbeque sticks to turn the meat and the coals around. Then we had to fry hotdogs using the casserole from the rice cooker. When B (the expert in grilling) left early, T, J and I struggled at first with making a decent coal fire but soon lunch was happily grilling.





3.The booze session. MM and I went out to get some ice and mineral water. The group was already gearing up for the tequila shots when we left and when we came back, we have to catch up on four rounds. MC was quite efficient in serving the tequila that we finished one bottle in less than an hour. Beers and vodka were also served so we were wasting away in no time. However, we consumed only half of the all the booze J prepared.




4.The swimming. To clear our heads of the booze, we decided to make good use of the pool. The water was so deliciously warm that we didn’t mind if we were already turning into prunes. Our pool games include getting the thrown coin from the bottom of the pool. This will lead to teaching B (the weakest link…hmmm…sino kaya to?) some lessons in diving. It was frustrating at first since his body refuse to sink but after birthday boy taught the proper technique (he is a Lozada, after all, haha), he was retrieving the coin like a pro...professional golden retriever, haha. We also made good use of C’s underwater camera gear and tried to take underwater photos of each other. It was difficult to multitask underwater: you have to sink, breathe, swim, project and smile for the camera and take the photo.





5.The UFO (Unidentified Floating Object). One of the girls (name withheld to protect her identity….bwahaha) had a Cosmo Confession moment. The three of us were in one corner of the pool when J noticed a floating object and jokingly shouted “Jellyfish!” I countered the joke and said it was a condom. Then to push the joke further, I said that it was one of those silicon implants girls place on their bras. Turned out it was indeed THAT and the horrified expression of “her” face was priceless (pasalamat ka kami lang ang nakakita, haha).

6. The Kuya Germs Moments. With all the fun we were having, it was inevitable that we might not catch some sleep at all. But I think it was MM and TP who first crawled into the beds. Then the girls who did not swim. Birthday boy took a shower near dawn and I said I’ll be next. When I realized it was taking him forever, I went upstairs only to find out that he has dozed off. I decided to catch my forty winks as well and we were only awakened when some people have to leave by early morning. I think we only slept for less than 2 hours. The Kuya Germs Award goes to C. She barely slept and still managed to a have a videoke concert by mid-day. She tried to sleep at the boy’s room but there would be three little tykes (J, B and TP...in that order) who will disturb her sleep (minutes apart) because they have to get something from the room.

7. The Pool Side Gossip. I will keep mum about this. After all, what’s an overnight bonding session without the token gossip and drama? Good thing the drama did not get in the way of the fun.


We had a total three sets of swimming sessions and innumerable turns at the videoke. Too bad some people had to leave early because of work or personal matters they have to attend to. The rest of us wrapped up before 5pm.

With the lack of sleep, the impact of the booze and with bodies battered from swimming, it was a huge effort just to drive home. J and I failed to keep each other awake while driving that we decided to stop at gas station, meet TP and have some sort of night cap and chase the clouds of sleep away.

Hands down, J raised the bar for birthday celebrations (pressure on C...who’s next on the list). And he has added another feather to his cap: event planner and consultant. Trust J to know how to have a good time. This is another one for the books.

Songs In The Key of J

Dark is the night, I can weather the storm
Never say die, I’ve been down this road before
I’ll never quit, I’ll never lay down
See I promised myself that I’ll never let me down


Looking back, it was a sports-driven invitation that started it all. He was a welcome addition and how he seamlessly flowed into our newfound ensemble is not surprising at all. He brought his own brand of wisecracks and humor. Not to mention the remarkable stories that brought new meaning to “sharing of experiences”. His childhood stories alone can trump the Adventures of Tom Sawyer by a mile.

What followed was a roller-coaster ride (literally and figuratively) and the subsequent beautiful disasters that changed the color of our world. In such times when egotism, immaturity and misconceptions played a mitigating role, we were forced to define the proper meaning of sincerity, sensibility and reciprocal alliance.

And if I fall, I’ll never fail
I’ll just get up and try again
I’ll never quit, I’ll never go down
I’ll make sure they remember my name
A hundred years from now

Some fondly call him lolo or manong because he is older than most of us (and he would rebut this by proving that his age doesn’t show). His magnetic charm comes from his ready metallic smile, the expressive eyes and the way he makes you comfortable in his presence. He has a hatful of talents: from singing, to performing magic tricks…to perfecting the art of prognostication (a direct result of his ka-praningan). Another J stamp: for sure you will know if he has arrived (how?…use your nose).

Like a true-blue Gemini, he can have a split personality: one time he will be all ruckus and hilarity, and the next breath he will be coy and serious (pag meeting para yang studious Grade 3 student). Be warned because like a reluctant lawyer, he can be argumentative at times and he will go to the ends of the earth to prove that he is correct (ok, I will concede that he is correct most of the time…birthday nya kasi). Kidding aside, he often knows the right words to say. Forget the stutter, he is great storyteller and verbal chronicler of events. If my blogs are ever to be made into audiofiles, I’ll get him as narrator.

Please don’t worry about me, I’m fine
Only gonna play the fool one time

On a serious note, it was the challenging moments that drew our inner circle. I witnessed how life dealt him some blows and how he rolled with the punches. I’ve seen him shake off the stigma that clings to him like an unforgiving omen. To some people he may seem happy-go-lucky with his child-like zest for fun. But that is not to say that he is not tainted and bruised, for I have seen his life wounds. And this makes him more real, as a person. He exemplifies how you cannot put a good man down.


While I am mentor to him on “occupational hazards”, he plays big brother to me on the personal level. He is the Pacey to my Dawson, the Ryan to my Seth. We have more than the fair share of common philosophy and the way of looking at things. Wavelength, if you may call it. Like a language of our own, we can communicate through non-verbal clues or even in riddles. Plus, he has a seer-like ability of knowing what I am thinking or finishing off my sentences.

In a world that if often rocked by changes, it is the unexplainable “balancing act” that works for us. While I am stringent and staid, he would blur the edges with his trademark banter and exuberance.

I’m not scared to fly, I’m not that naïve
I’m just out to find the better part of me

I’ve been told many times before that I have to work hard and play harder. But it was only he who showed me how. His infectious inner child and inner smile made me reconnect with own and consequently, I learned how to enjoy the experience. He is patient enough to give me directions (both literally and figuratively) or point out my mistakes, that I am more confident now with my personal roadmap.

I’ve said that I am not a fan of grandiose displays of appreciation. For me, it’s the little things and consistency that matters the most. And he has transcended this time and again. He has done more and impacted me more that some of the people that have walked in my life longer (but never understood the meaning of reciprocity). I can never appreciate him enough for it.

Happy birthday, J! For someone who torments me for not blogging enough, I hope this blog was worth the wait. I don’t have to say what my wishes are for you. I will just be there when they do come true.

It may sound absurd but won’t you concede
Even heroes have the right to bleed
And it’s not easy to be me


***
Ten Things You Might Not Know About J
(subtitle: I Hope He Does Not Kill Me For This)

1. He has acrophobia and a bit of insomnia.
2. He calls his car PNV – Paa Ni Voltes V.
3. He can be dorky…he knows a lot of trivia stuff and likes answering trivia/mind games.
4. Once he gets to like a particular song, he will put it on repeat mode until he learns all the lyrics (currently memorizing Neyo’s Go On Girl).
5. His shaking can get so bad and his gulat expressions are so cinematic.
6. He likes to scare himself…tapos mandadamay pa!
7. He has a killer falsetto but his trademark videoke songs are the Kalapana hits.
8. He has three alarm clocks that sound off minutes apart (so he knows he has to get up when the third alarm sounds).
9. He sweats profusely when eating spicy foods and loves to dare people into eating the sili.
10. He misplaces stuff (one time, he lost the car key seconds after opening the trunk!). Warning: this virus of his can be contagious.

Dreams and Despondency

Mood: Harassed (so much to do, so little time)
Music on Repeat: Something Pretty (Patrick Park)


The Wind Cries Hurry


For the past two weeks, I’ve been braving the sun and heat to provide my fair share of trade check reports. Admittedly, it did open my eyes on a lot of things that were going on at the store level. But it left me feeling more spent and disoriented than ever. It puts my multi-tasking talent to an extreme test. After all, who will do my reports and paperwork while I am out getting sales orders or playing undercover photographer for supermarket displays? I am the opposite of The King Of Nothing To Do.

And the elements are working against me as well.

First to break down was the power charger of my office laptop (which is perpetually plugged-in coz the battery already died ages ago). It could not have come at a better time because I was already in Naga City for a presentation when I realized that I cannot use my laptop. Thanks to wifi (one of God’s best gift to the modern man), I asked our Manila office to email the files I need and used the laptop of my colleague. (This feels like a freaking Mentos commercial).

Still, I was left with no laptop for a couple of days. Good thing E has a compatible power chord so I was able to sneak into my office laptop and save the recent files and migrate it to my personal laptop.

Then, after my days of field work, I was ecstatic to report back to the office and deal with my paperwork overload. Only to find out that the electric power on the entire third floor conked out because of some wiring trouble. So we had to do all our work in the small conference table in the second floor.

Plus points: after not seeing my fellow PM for days (yeah, I missed them), we were literally rubbing shoulders and exchanging stories. Minus points: nine of us were sharing the conference table so our things were getting mixed up and you somehow cannot work well and concentrate because it is not your “normal” office space. Bottomline: I did more field work and finished my officework elsewhere.

We were already forewarned that will be like this for the next two weeks .


***

Dreaming The Dream

Late one Saturday afternoon, we traveled South for an ocular inspection. We were gearing up for a celebration towards the end of May (sorry but everything is “secret” for now). As with any of our road trips, the conversation was peppered with nostalgic pop references, the usual sleaziness and…dreams.

J narrated that he had the weirdest and scariest “dream” the previous night. We went home late that night so you would expect a grand snoozefest. However, he woke up around 3AM (enter images of The Exorcism of Emily Rose) and felt an inexplicably unfathomable presence in his room. The presence was so palpable that he refused to open his eyes. And this was not a dream state because he was already conscious of his earthly body movements. It was only when he started praying that the baffling presence slowly dissipated. Then he was able to open his eyes, turn on the light and TV (to sleep mode) and returned to sleep.

T’s dream is more mystical than horrifying, but a tad scary nonetheless. For the past weeks, he has been dreaming of his relatives that have long passed away. He sees them in his dream as a “future” image, not as they were before they died. Like they aged in some cosmic parallel universe. And every time they are about to acknowledge each other’s presence, he would wake up. Also there is a tantalizing well-lighted room but T would wake up before he can peek at what’s inside the room.

We told T not to enter the well-lighted room and, if possible, visit his relatives’ tombs. And maybe he should stop watching Manigno on primetime TV and concentrate on mastering The Singing Bee, instead.

As for me, my dreams were haunted by a beautiful apparition we saw in BKTM that Friday night.

***

Something Wistful This Way Comes

I’m holding on tight in the midst of this wind
Trying so hard to stand still
But I’m swept away
Like a storm that gets lost in the tide
Yet I’m trying to stay on your side

Like some recurring omen, it is again that time of the year. The winds of change are blowing this way once more. It brings with it some fresh faces then it sends some of the old ones away. Or sometimes it changes the trajectory of the others. Just the same, everything will never be the same again.

Change is like a game of chance. We will never know, until much later, what the consequences are. If it spells fortune or doom. Everything boils down to half-chances.

Some things you’ll never know until you’ve tried it. Some lessons you have to learn the hard way. I am again in an unforgiving crossroad. Sooner of later, I will have to make that life-changing choice.

Will the promise of the horizon be enough for me to let go of the shore?


***

She’s Justified (A Birthday Greeting)


If this place was heaven, then she was my first angel. Who can forget that life-changing phone call, 6 years ago that brought me here? Back then, she was already a tad too insistent that I had the sneaky suspicion that she has the hots for me.

Joking aside, she became one of my most indispensable allies at work, up to this very moment. How we clicked instantly is a no brainer. We share a lot of things in common…from the addiction to pop music and MTV to wasting time at the mall. And yes, she can be a great writer if only she will put her mind to it.

I have seen her at her worst and at her best. I have seen her beaten by our so-called “true friends” and how her spirit shone through the hurtful tears. I have watched her suffer in silence, especially in the midst of her medical dilemma. I watched how she stood ground when I gave her the “unexpected space”, knowing that later she would understand that it was a space for her to grow. And grow, she did. From the sidelines, I was there when she received the recognition she long deserved. For what it’s worth, she made us proud. That crowning moment was something I have long wished for her because I know she had it in her.

Of course, we had our share of misunderstanding but what we have can stand the test of time, pressure and malicious intrigues. She is one of the few people who can tolerate the lethal combination of my mood swings, sarcasm and indifference, especially when I am so stressed out with work. She understands me better than the people I spend more time with. I am forever indebted to her because she is one of the few people who championed me and brought me to where I am now.

Though we have moved in different circles, there is no question of each other’s distant presence. Once in a great while, there will be the midnight phone calls and she will bleed her new challenging story. On the other hand, she is one of the few people who knows what I’m going through. She is also a big fan of what I enjoy doing... be it writing blogs, singing or making fun of RV.

This birthday blog is overdue (and that won’t be a surprise for her because she is so used to my “delays”). Happy birthday, K! This blog will not be enough to describe how great you are as a person. I wish you more happiness…in places now one will find (haha…admit you miss me saying this). Continue your quest for understanding this cruel life. As “your” C would say, there is a blue sky waiting tomorrow.

The Spanish Travelogue - The Journey To Madrid

Wow, this is surreal...but nice. Who would have thought that I'd be blogging halfway around the world...in Madrid!

It's 4:36 AM here and we just arrived about half an hour ago. Manila time is 6 hours ahead. What's cooler than the temperature here is that I am writing this blog using the Philips LCD screen and wireless keyboard in my hotel room. I am saving saving my laptop's battery because we forgot that Europe has a different electric power socket. Hopefully we can buy an adaptor later.

Whoever said that we will be having an easy time conversing with people here must have lived in the colonial era. Their brand of Spanish here is different. They talk quickly and in urgent bursts. Yes, we do catch a few words but it would be better if they were also at least half-fluent n English. Even the friendly front desk guy explained to me in Spanish how to connect to the internet and use the wireless keyboard. Thankfully, he knew the words "mouse" and "black cable" so I just took it from there.

THE LONGEST JOURNEY EVER

After spending Sunday doing some packing and last-minute work instructions and turnover, I was at the airport before 8AM Monday morning. I was reminded again why you have to be at the airport 2 hours before your flight. Their check-in lines are so inefficient and we even have to spend more than 20 minutes queueing for immigration. By the time we got through, we just have time for a pee break before we boarded our 10:45 KNL flight to Amsterdam.

Blooper #1: I forgot my hair wax in the car! Knowing me, hair wax ranks as one of my 5 must-haves in every trip (right after phone, wallet, iPod and before breath mints).


What do you do when you have 10 hours to burn inside the plane.

1. Have a sincere talk with your buddy, about life updates since you have not had a personal talk in ages. Be reminded that the workplace you abandoned for just a few days is getting more colorful by the day.
2. Sleep.
3. Eat.
4. Watch episodes of Entourage and Two And A Half Men.
5. Feed your premature homesickness by watching Alvin and the Chipmunks.
6. Sleep.
7. Eat. Do you know that they serve Nissin Cup Boodles in international flights? And red wine.
8. Sleep with drool.
9. Watch Superbad.
10. Forget your iPod and listen to the extensive CD selection on-board.
11. Sleep.
12. Eat.


Bryan was amazed at how I can lasts 10 hours with no bathroom breaks and how I was almost immobile while he was so restless in his seat. It's called survival in a cramped space.

Ocassionally, I would check the view of the terrain below. Imagine Google Earth, only more defined. Often it would be endless mountains or fields. I think we passed through most of what used to be USSR and Central Europe. The topograhy of this area is really postcard-perfect. It was my first time to see snow-capped mountains and their fields which are so geometrically perfect.

Finally, after 10 looooong hours we were in Amsterdam for the connecting flight to Madrid. We arrived there at 6 PM (12 MN in Manila). After locating our boarding gate, I did what I have to do... immediately buy hair wax at the Duty Free shop. My forgetfullness costs me 5 Euros for a tube of Loreal Hair Wax. The guy at the counter looked at my hair (ruffled from sleeping) and asked it I was to use the hair wax that very moment. I said no, my hair is fine, thank you very much.

The immigration lady asked us how long we are staying in Spain. I said two day tops. She made a funny face and asked if we were nuts for staying for only two days. I just said that we have work to do back home. As she handed our passports, she rolled her eyes again and said "Two days?!?" Like it was one of mankind's greatest sins.

The flight from Amsterdam to Madrid will be another 2 hours.

Blooper #2: Our plane seats were 30C and 30D, both aisle seats at the very back. The other two occupants on the both sides were couples with squealing babies in tow. While we already succumbed to our fate that we would hears creams and bawling throughout the flight, the stewardess asked us if we can transfer to another seat so that the babies will be more comfortable. With a sigh of relief, gladly moved to much better seats.

We arrived in Madrid at 2AM (8AM in Manila). There are only a few people in the airport and since we did not see anyone carrying the event signage, we called up the contact person and we were told to proceed to Exit 6. There we met the othe rep from the Philippines and eventually we were fetched by an old man who resembled Heidi's grandfather (Heidi from the cartoon adaptation of the children's classic).

We boarded the bus with the other event participants. Since it was past midnight, my first view of Madrid was in its deserted, sleepy glory. It was very quaint and neat. Very promising. I can't wait to explore it tomorrow.

The bus ride to the hotel took us almost two hours and I slept through half of it. When I awoke and realized the elapsed time, I joked to Bryan that we were already in Barcelona.

Anyway, I need to catch a few more ZZZZZZZs since we have a full day ahead. Sorry, no pictures for now as I am only using the uber-cool TV screen as computer. Meaning I can't upload the photos.

Hasta la vista for now.

Q&A: I Come Undone

I stumbled upon this questions/survey and decided to answer it just for fun…or maybe to mock the people who only sees me as a two-dimensional workaholic hotshot yuppie.

Name: I’ve been called different names during the course of my existence. Elementary friends call me by my legal name. College friends uses just two letters to address me. To present colleagues, I am like a purple dinosaur. Don’t ask my household name…it’s too far off that I don’t know even know where it came from.

Age: Like wine, it gets better with time.

Religion: Devout agnostic

What are you passionate about: Music, writing, fitness

Favorite movie this year: None yet. From last year, it has to be One More Chance (ha ha).

Most played songs on iPod: That would be my World-Weary playlist: Breakdown (Mariah Carey), Drops of Jupiter (Train), Back To Good (Matchbox Twenty), Fire and Rain (James Taylor), Can U Help Me (Usher), Blind (Lifehouse), Taken (Plumb), What Might Have Been (Lou Pardini), Far Away (Kevyn Lettau)

Best quality about me: My understanding of human nature

The worst: My sarcasm… or so they say

Last semi-sensible purchase: A heavier dumb bell. Back issues of Entrepreneur Magazine.

If you could buy one thing right now it would be: iPod speakers and a new iPod-ready car stereo

Beach or mountains: Any, as long as I am in good company. But beach would be better.

Sport: Badminton. Although I’ve tried some bowling and billiards way back. Oh…Wii Tennis!

Movie that makes me cry: Ok, the last was December Boys. I am a sucker for buddy-forever movies. And before that, The Pursuit of Happyness. Why am I admitting this!

Apart from what you're doing now, what would be your dream job: A newspaper columnist (paging Young Star). A DJ.

Temptation you have successfully avoided thus far: Smoking

Temptation you have succumbed to recently: Drinking….hic! And lottery.

The one thing you can never be: A third party.

The one thing you strive to be: A BLESSING to other people

The one thing you struggle with the most: Driving in unfamiliar streets. Wondering “what might have been.”

The most beautiful woman you've ever seen: I want Moore.

The best thing your mom taught you: Smiling through your worries.

The best thing your dad taught you: Responsibility.

The thing you surprisingly enjoy doing: Cleaning anything (car, house, computer files).

Last time you kissed someone: I don't kiss and tell.

What turns you on: Smarts, compassion, some attitude

What turns you off: Whore-ish demeanor (malandi, in vernacular). Wrong grammar. Trying hard to speak in English. Insensitivity. Close-mindedness.

Most pointless thing a girl can buy: Tons of accessories, bags, shoes (more than they can use).

Best thing a girl can buy: Consistency. Mindset. (ok, I’m being sarcastic).

Favorite sound: Keyboard clicking. The Cuppycake Song.

Worst sound: For some reason, The Papaya Song makes me tense. The alarm clock after only 2 hours of sleep. The sound of reality crashing to the floor.

Favorite swear word: Fuck, shit

When no one's looking I like to: Smell the leather of my watch. Oh my!

What would the movie of your life be called: Shades of Grey

What is the most ironic thing about yourself: that I’m always running but I seem to be going nowhere. I’m once-bitten-twice-shy but somehow I suffer the same downfall.

What do you like most about yourself: How I understand human nature, hence I tend to get along with most types of people. I’m quite sensitive but too cool to care. I can do what I nwat if I put my mind to it.

What do you hate most about yourself: I can be paranoid (trust only a few). I have a certain eye-for-an-eye mentality. I’m a bit jaded and world-weary.

Issue most important to you: Future stability. The environment. How to be a blessing to people I care for.

What is the bravest thing you've done: conquered my fear of extreme carnival rides. Be a man and stay true to my words. Stand up for what is true and what fair, even if means hurting some people you care for.

What is the one brave thing you've still yet to do: Get into another serious relationship. Let go and look for greener pastures.

What's food for your soul? Reading and writing blogs.

If you were to enter heaven, what would you like to hear at the pearly gates: "So you’re Bernard… welcome… they’ve all been waiting for you.”

CD Review: The Second Emancipation Is Sheer Genius

Hands down, The Emancipation of Mimi was one of the most satisfying pop/R&B album in recent pop history. The challenge now is how to follow up that massive success. E=MC2 (released April 15 under Island/Def Jam) was pitted as a follow-up of sorts to Emancipation, hence the title. The verdict is in: emancipation is better the second time around.

Yes, in some parts E=MC2 follows the formula of its predecessor, but expect Carey to push it a notch higher. Like some exact science, the new album meticulously combines hip-hop-tinged club ditties and slick mid-tempo ballads (first mastered in Emancipation) to sum up to another explosive pop/rnb masterpiece.

The album opens with “Migrate”, a bob-your-head club anthem featuring T-Pain. Then it smoothly flows into “Touch My Body”, the carrier single. As with the past Carey albums, the carrier single is a sexy and flirty tune (think “Dreamlover”, “Fantasy” and “Honey”). Though the lyrics to “Touch” can make some eyes roll, you can never resist its slinky hooks and licks and the charming reference to cameras and youTube.

That song has already touched the #1 spot twice and has broken two records. It was the 18th number one for Carey, putting her in pole position as the solo artist with the most #1 hits, leaving Elvis Priestly behind and putting Carey within striking distance of the all-time record (held by the Beatles with twenty #1 songs). It also broke the record for the most downloads (previously held by Rihanna’s “Umbrella”).

The personal drama you expect from Carey is delivered via the second single “Bye Bye,” a tribute to her father who recently passed away but has a universal appeal with its sentiment of longing and missing someone (remember “One Sweet Day?”). Those who knew Carey’s rise and fall will get tugs at the heart when she sings the lines “And you never got a chance to see how good I've done/And you never got to see me back at number one.” This early, I am writing this as her 19th #1 song.

Another gem is “I Stay In Love”, (a likely 3rd single) which rehashes “We Belong Together” but is still as engaging. Meanwhile, “I’m That Chick” employs a smart sampling of Michael Jackson’s “Off The Wall”, setting a vibe that evokes disco balls, roller skates and multi-colored dresses.

More drama is offered in “Side Effects,” a song that describes the aftershocks of an abusive relationship, with latent references to ex-hubby Tommy Motolla. Amidst a darkly sinister background beat courtesy of Scott Storch and Young Jeezy, Carey spews pent-up vehemence in lyrics such as "Sleeping with the enemy/ Aware that he was smothering every last part of me"” and “Keepin' me there, under your thumb/Cause you were scared that I'd become much/More than you could handle.”

Carey proves she is chameleon extraordinaire when she allows her vocals to complement her guest artist’s style. For instance, in “Migrate,” she mimics T-Pains auto-tuned vocalization. Then later in “Cruise Control,” Carey pleases when she intones some Jamaican vibe in harmony with Damien Marley. Think “Shake It Off” given a Marley makeover.

The album closes with “I Wish You Well”, a ballad that brings Carey to her gospel roots and showcases the 8-octave vocal range that is downplayed to soft whispers in the other songs.

Even the less-glittery songs (“Love Story”, “Last Kiss”) sounds better than the carrier singes of other established artist. And this is the beauty of E=MC2: each song plays like a potential hit and the over-all aural feel is so consistent that you can listen to the album through and through.

I predict that this album will spawn at least 3 number one songs (making Carey match the Beatles’ record), bring home at least two Grammys (best contemporary R&B album and best R&B or pop vocals) and amass the aplomb and accolades of Emancipation of Mimi.

E=MC2 plays on Einstein’s infamous formula and rightfully so. Carey and Einstein’s works are sheer genius.

-Reviewed by: Bernard Crisostomo, Philippines