Thoughts Age, Like Wine

One of the first pics I took with the 20D. Cloudy Sunset over Manila Bay.

When the SATC series hit the peak of its phenomenal impact on society, women invariably started comparing themselves to SATC.
Well, 2 years after the finale aired, here’s 4 reasons I think SATC women kada’s in Manila are few and far in between.
- Everyone loves the diff personalities on the show, but no conservative-imaged Filipina in her right mind would be caught dead being compared to Samantha. Her extremely male thinking just screams ‘playgirl’ when worn within Manila’s social walls.
- For the same reason above, most everyone will say they are like Charlotte.
- People who are like Miranda will say they are more like Carrie because, frankly, Miranda’s image of the too-ballsy woman is a red hot dress no Filipina bred in a patriarchal society would want for herself. Waaaay too much attention that only a handful (yes, only a handful) of guys can swallow.
- Everyone will want to think they are Carrie, forgetting to recognize the fact that she pursued a married man, and that her character dated more than her fair share of stupendously weird-slash-insecure-slash-immature-slash-emotionally-unavailable men.

And some people might go and say ‘Well, of course we can’t be exactly like them, because the culture’s different”, thereby giving us leeway to drop the ooh-we-have-our-own-lil-sexcapades part of their characters. Na-uh. Can’t do. The sex is central to their character. SEX and the City, remember?

Jeez, this is how much I miss my old girl friends.
***
Remember Season 1 when Big and Carrie kept bumping into each other, and when they finally decided to bump into each other on purpose. I’m having a bit of a Mr. Big dilemma myself. Dammit, why does the whole Metro seem soooo small when you need for it to be big. Must not look back. Must make it perfect.
***
It’s almost October. Christmas is a-coming. The neighbors are starting to play ‘Jingle Bells’ at ungodly hours. Holy Tinapang Bangus. Must go ahead and buy gifts before I find myself in an unwanted chaotic mad-dash for last-minute gifts.
***
With the superbly toxic nine-to-five-day-job (that has become nine to nine or even nine to eleven) these past three weeks, social highs have come few and far in between. Still, I was able to attend a few kwento-worthy affairs…
--> watched 2 movies featured in Cinema Europa at Shangri-La. ‘Kroko’ and ‘The Extra Man’ were both very insightful films.
--> went to see Rex Navarete do stand-up comedy at Megamall with co-workers-slash-friends. Hilarious in parts, but did not beat the laugh-time I had when I saw Chris Rock last year with now-defunct-ex-bf.
--> went to a party thrown by a high-school friend who passed the Medical Licensure Board. My kudos to her!
***
While meeting an agent to view a condo unit I was looking to buy, I suddenly remembered a guy from waaaaaaay back. High school, in fact. He was my sister’s friend, who, out of his boredom (I was told), hung out with me while I religiously did homework at my home’s front terrace. He was a spectacular guitarist and a funny guy with what I thought was eccentric but mature thinking. Of course I was around 14 at the time, and didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into. I found myself talking on the phone with this guy (he was around 3 years older than I was) and felt half-flattered, half-flustered that this guy found me a good enough conversationalist to sustain 4-hour long phone conversations with me. Looking back now, I think I remember me saying something to push his button again and again, and he just stopped calling. In the span of that same summer, I started realizing that boys were made to have more than friendly relations with girls.
Looking back, I realize maybe I was infatuated with the guy and his mysterious interest in a young nobody such as me. Ten years later, I found myself completely smitten by a rocker dude. He was mysterious, aloof, and intense. I didn’t know what attracted me to him and blamed the whole experience from a wide array of explanations, from both our pheromones to us both liking cerebral thinking(him more than me).
This week, I think part of the reason was THE high-school guy and the unfinished and unrecognized internal tug-o-war I had about him. I don’t know where he is now, though, and I don’t think there’s anyway I’m going to find out. Hopefully, nothing needs to be done and the recognition of a past internal conflict is enough to get me to move along and stop this weird attraction to aloof, intense, mysterious men (which in my book is synonymous with “bad boys”).
But, then again, I’m not holding my breath.
***
A forwarded email made me smile. Must share. This might enlighten some other women out there who need some reassurance at the moment. Or maybe not. Excerpts from the email below:
THIS HAS BEEN WRITTEN BY A MAN.
This is for all you girls (snip) who are turning 30, and for those who are scared of moving into their 30's...AND for guys who are scared of girls over 30!!!!

This was written by Andy Rooney from CBS 60 Minutes. Andy Rooney says:
A woman over 30 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think.
If a woman over 30 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it's usually something more interesting.
A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30 give a damn what you might think about her or what she's doing.
Women over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it.
Women over 30 couldn't care less if you're attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won't betray her.
Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk or if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.
Yes, we praise women over 30 for a multitude of reasons.
***
Hopefully, life has nice surprises in store in the coming days now that drama is decidedly being avoided. Bring it on!

Stampede for Passion

Sept 10, aside from being a day before the Sept 11 US tragedy commemoration, and aside from being a piss-me-off Saturday because I had to cancel an ill-planned Baguio trip for work, was also the playdate for Red Horse Muziklaban, the event which will not soon vanish from memory.

The three of us got there at around 8:30, listening to the third band via 107.5, and getting all psyched up to see and listen to some bangin' rock. As our car approached Roces Ave from a side street, we didn't know exactly where the entrance to the place was. All we knew was we had to follow the light in the sky (ala-Batman signal) and follow the slowly thickening throng of kids in black walking along the road. I joked to my friend and said 'Potah, daming Punks Not Dead' and proceeded to ask her why their color was black and not some other color. She jokingly replied that it was so nobody'd notice if the clothes hadn't been laundered ever. Haha. Some other 'Pahnks Naht Dead' jokes were exchanged. I even quipped that if someone threw a bomb into the stadium, the Manila population problem would be able to breathe a sigh of relief. My friend replied 'e di di na yan Pahnks Naht Ded, kundi Punks Now Ded na'. I laughed. It was good quip, I thought at the time. After a while, we parked at a side street, made arrangements with the guard to look after the car, and proceeded to what looked like a big green gate that was...(stunned silence)...CLOSED.

We tried to get as close to the gate as possible, with me trying to hold my breath for as long a time as possible because we were literally surrounded by the throng of people in black, banging on the gate, cussing and/or muttering about them having bought tickets and all and not being able to get in. The thick odor of perspiration was almost unbearable. There were a few other people who looked as average as us (read: not wearing black, and not smelling too smelly) and my friend asked one of them why the gate was closed. We found out that they closed the gate because there were too many people inside, and the bouncers didn't want a riot breaking out with the thick crowd. A few times, the gate opened to elt in ambulances, but the people nearest the gate dared not pass thru, because on the other side waited bouncers with their 'dos por dos' ready to hit anyone who crossed the line, they themselves being affected by the heat of the night and the aggression of the crowd.

After around 15 mins of standing around, my friend asked if we just wanted to go somewhere else and drink. I said we should try to wait a few more minutes, and if they still didn't let us in, we could go get drinks in some other bar. We were in QC, weren't we?

Without warning, the gate suddenly opened. After a split-second astonished crowd hush, everyone started to literally run for the gate. I instinctively held my friend's hand right as I was swept off my feet by the suddenly thick crowd of people. I saw that I was nearing the gate, but I couldn't feel my feet. I also couldn't breathe, my breath being sucked out from me a moment earlier as the throng came together to form a bullet-like shape enough to penetrate the gate. I heard people scream as though from far away, but I could see that the people beside me were squished and shouting too. As soon as it began, though, the whole thing was over. We were on the other side of the gate, and I looked back to see my 2 companions right behind me. I also saw, in that brief instant, a bouncer beating back the rest of the crowd that was now just coming through the gate. I looked in front and saw bouncers trying frantically to to stop people from going any further. I took my friend's hand and pulled her to the side, saying 'Wag tayo d'yan sa gitna maglakad, para kunyari kanina pa tayo andito. baka sapakin tayo nyan' I took one last look back at the gate, and there were still people trying to get in as the bouncers were pushing the gate back into place.

Getting into the actual stadium was another matter altogether. I breathed in and thought 'there's no turning back now'. I went to the side of the thick crowd trying to get in, and was told by a bouncer that we needed to show them our tickets. We didn't have tickets yet, though. And the ticket booths were overturned and empty (I'm guessing this was a result of an earlier stampede for tickets). We walked up the steps and were pushed forward into the waiting sticks held up by the bouncers trying to push people back. I guess my face showed both worry and panic, so the bouncer let his stick down a few inches (and thank god, because the stick was up to my chest, I couldn't breathe with the people behind me pushing me forward) and in my calmest voice, i told him we needed 3 tickets. Some guy from behind him shouted 'eto, tatlo,' and shoved 3 paper tickets into our hands. The bouncer, though, suddenly shouted 'sandali, bayad nyo', so we had to rummage for our money in our bags, while the crowd was pushing me forward, straight towards the bouncer's face. 10 seconds later, we had paid and gotten through.

As we climbed the stairs that led to the bleachers, I could feel cold sweat on my neck. This was going to be a long night. I wished for the performances to be worth this EDSA-DOS-like stampede.

While in our seats, people kept passing by to get to the other section, and the crowd seemed to thicken and thin out, depending on who was performing (when there were good performers, they crowded in our area, while with others, the crowd seemed to disappear into nowhere). Once, I heard some lady screaming from behind the bleachers. We couldn't see her, but I presumed, like us, she was now stressed out as she was being shoved around by people trying to get to the other side, or her view was being severely blocked by the other people.

My friend and I stuck it out in our part of the bleachers. We had an advantage as a bouncer was right in front of us and he warned people to not crowd in front of us as they might fall of the railing. Thanks, Manong Bouncer, you don't know how much that helped.

Only on Monday did we realize that some people died in that stampede. I was shocked, but I couldn't imagine how that happened. And then, I remembered.

I couldn't feel my feet.

Was that me? Did I kill someone? I don't think so. My conscience is clean, as far as stumbling over other people goes. I was literally dragged into the gate, and I'm sure they were too.

There's really nothing to say about the whole stampede thing, except to not be in that position the next time around.

For sure, I'm one of the few people who are willing to try anything once, but that once, I think, was enough for a lifetime of Muziklabans for me. Next time, if the gate's closed, I'll listen to that sign and move on to the next bar that's not so crowded and threatening.

Oh, the folly of youth.
PS. Rest in Peace to those poor boys. Don't worry, I'm sure heaven has no lines and the gates are always open.

***

From Wonder Falls:
"Meaninglessness is acceptable in a meaningless world, but meaninglessness in a meaningful world is just depressing" (not verbatim).
Well, I'm not depressed, but the thought IS a bit disturbing.

On a more personal note, I wish I was more insenisitive these days. I know I shouldn't care, but some things affect me more than I wish they did. Maybe a little more insensitivity and I'll start not to care if people keep expecting me to suddenly appear at a function with my Prince Charming in tow. I'm single and I kinda like it that way. Get it?

I say 'There's no such thing as a Prince Charming for me these days'. there is, however, 'Mr. Not Right' and he is already, most definitely, on my radar. ;D

Bands, SATC for Men, and the State of Things

The vocalist of Moonstar 88 (Michelle?). Holding her own.
The Haneps. The drummer's a friend.
Same girl. Diff pic. Same Passion.

***

Work's still been hell this week, but I've managed to still enjoy outside the 2 corners of my cube. Went to embassy last Friday and danced the night away with girlfriends, like old times. On Saturday, did the pop recording session, and stampeded my way into Muziklaban (yes, THAT stampede). More on that in a separate entry, though, as it was one helluvan experience. Spent most of Sunday at GBelt with a bunch of friends. It was one of those surreal days because everything just seemed so steady. We were like SATC girls gone spunky. Watched Red Eye for free too. Thanks, Cha! This week too, drank and sung our hearts out til 4 am on a weekday. And no, we didn't just sing. We danced over "Footloose" and "I want it that way" (yes, THAT song) too, and we all crooned to romantic, hopeless love songs. Of course, I just had to sing my anthem (Buses and Trains). Ah, life is good.

'They're like chocolate cake, like cigarettes, I know they're bad for me, but I just can't leave 'em alone..."

***

Have been watching SATC reruns on HBO the past few weeks, and am seriously contemplating buying DVDs of the whole thing. It reminded me of years past. Memories once-forgotten bubble to the surface, without the intangible pain of entangled emotions, and I see it with the clarity that only comes with hindsight.

Somewhere between Carrie crying over Big's minor heart surgery, and Samantha's succumbing to Smith's Define-The-Relationship-By-Letting-Me-Be-The-First-To-Hold-Your-Hand-While-Walking technique, I thought about this phenomenon that empowered women from all over. This show was not just meant for women to go and say "That's sooooo you", or "I'm so glad I'm not the only one who goes through that", or "I didn't know it was okay to do that". More importantly, and more subtly too, the show begs to be watched by men, to understand how women's complicated minds and egos work. I had the greatest pleasure (and thanks for that experience, you. It was one of those rare moments I will always remember you by) of having a boyfriend who liked SATC enough to watch it with me (or maybe he just liked being with me enough to suffer watching the show in silence haha). It was phenomenal. It gave him a new perspective on women, I think. At least, I hope so.

Anyway, on the other side of the coin, I sometimes wish there was a show like this about men. But then again, men are not overly analytical in principle, especially when it comes to women. They could go on and on about that last ball run or that stupid defense technique that lost them the game, but rarely do they brood over lost women. Yes, ladies, they will not go around calling their friends to talk about their lost loves (men like those are one in a thousand, by the way), nor will they go out and get stupidly drunk with their friends and give you that 3 am phone call that gets the both of you back together. Nah. More often than not, you've moved on before they chip that tipe of the iceberg known as their emotions. Thus, no SATC Men coming anytime soon. Sorry, girls.

However, for the gender benders, there's always The L Word and Queer as Folk. Awesome, awesome shows (although quotable quotes are much more rare). Which leads me back to my previous thought.....if only I was lez.

***

Things around me (people I talk to, books and blogs I read) seem to have a theme these days...i.e. finding the meaning of pain. What if there is none? What if you've got bumps on the road and they're there for no reason at all. A 5-year old kid falls and cries. She doesn't ask why and you don't tell her she needs to stand back up on her two feet. After she tires of crying, she just slowly stands up and resumes whatever it was she was doing. Maybe a lil wisdom can be got from these kids. Sometimes, shit just happens. And if you can't get over it, then you won't get anywhere, and after a while, people will tire of comforting you or asking you what's wrong. Life just goes on. Go with the flow, or get off the highway.

***

Sometimes, 20-20 hindsight is such a bummer. All my energy was so focused on not falling for another, and you just slowly crept under my skin. Damn you for that. It felt good and it felt sad. It felt exciting and forbidden at the same time. Because someone like you would completely annihilate me on so many levels. Again. I've been there and I've done that, and oh boy, there's no way in hell I'm gonna let another one of your kind (silent, complicated, happy) send me to hell and back. Yet, here it is. There you are.

I think I made a very convincing job of pushing you away with my words. But another, more quiet part of me just wants to be with you. Another part of me wants to meet up with you and not just buddy up. It wants to tell you to be careful, to pray for your happiness, to beg for your safety, to wish for your success.

You are nothing to me ( I need to tell myself this), yet you are most of what occupies the recesses of my mind, that part of me untouchable by sanity, these days. It scares the bejeezus out of me, but I don't think I'm ready to say 'So long, buddy, no chances this way' just yet. Maybe tomorrow, this too shall pass. Or maybe tomorrow, we'll meet up and you'll tell me exactly what I need to hear, and then.....and then...

And then maybe we'll both wake up and reality will let us know what can and cannot be.

All Boxed Up and Nowhere To Go

Another Street Angels pic that I loved.

A friend who's now with cherubs in heaven once said 'Try and learn something new everyday'. Well, some friends and I tried something new last night. Boxing.
Yes, BOXING!
Ha.
I actually didn't know what I was getting myself into. Cha pinged me late in the afternoon and asked if I wanted to try it out with them (all 4 of us were first-timers haha), and I said 'yes', an automatic reply when the mind is busy multi-tasking (chatting with kulit elder sister, kulit officemates, and trying to create a new program, all at the same time).
Lemme tell you though, it was exhilirating. I don't think I've perspired as much since I ran the half-marathon in college. And the whole thing was thankfully over in an hour and a half. Still need to think about investing in the proper gear though, as me and two other people plan to do this twice a week to bite off impending obesity due to slower metabolism (hay, pag tumatanda talaga)...
***
I must really be getting old....I used to not understand the quirky humor of Dilbert. Nowadays, I find myself laughing at every single day's comic relief (am pertaining to the pocket calendar). Yes, even alone. Pathetic, I know.
***
I am the audience that commercials are made for.
Two days ago, I got to listen, by chance, to the latest radio commercial of Jollibee. My sis and I found the singer hilarious because of the sustained pronounced 'A' at the end of the song. She sounded like her mouth was waaaaaaayyy too open when she sang that part. Then, the other night, I saw the commercial on TV. Same song in the background, different version. I laughed uncontrollably on my bed, alone (yet again...jeez, I'm seriously too weird for my own good). Then, last night, I found myself craving for Jollibee's ChickenJoy. Demmit. The friggin' commercial worked on me. The last laugh's is apparently Jollibee's. It's a conspiracy, i tell ya!
***
'You love me but you don't know who I am' --- lyrics from 'Let Me Go' by 3 Doors Down. It's rock, but somehow, the words can jar you into being sad. I guess that's why the music is acceptable the way it is (not mellow), or we'd all hate the truth if we hear it too much and listen too closely.
***
When there's something I so desperately want, the heavens conspire against me. But if there's something I desperately want to get rid of, all the angels seem to be praying for the complete opposite. Life is such a joke sometimes.
***
Being single is such a rush. But, then, sometimes, you look up at the beautiful sky, and wish there was someone who could share that quiet awesome moment between the universe and you.

***
This is a BLAH work week. Waaay too much stress and very little time for much else. Boo!

When it's Sunshiny, The Sunglasses Come Out

The Groom.

The comeback-inuman of the 'HOP' group. Meet my friends.

One of the kids at Street Angels. I took a whole lotta pics of her, but liked this the best.

I'ts been one helluva week and a half. So many things have opened up and closed back down again, it's amazing how I'm still alive, intact, and smiling, while the thoughts in my head seem to be screwing with my sanity.

Do I wanna stay? Do I wanna go?
Should I leap? or just stay put?
Must I take it on? or should I wait?
Would I swim? Or sink?
Is it a dream? Or was I awake?
Is this real? Or was it just my imagination?
Can I do it? Should I? Would I?

The more I don't talk to people about it, the more the voices scream in my head. Plus, the drama. Ooooh, hate the drama. I don't think I'm quite ready to plunge into that sea again just yet. And any huge change at this crossroads would mean a huge splash. Harumph.

On a slightly lighter note, I declare myself an officially good beer-drinking buddy. I can chug four beers and not be stupidly drunk. Ha-ha. Three hurrahs and a bottle of SML for me!

Anyway, on to more mundane things...

***
Sometimes, you see a mirror image of yourself in someone, and, for a split second, you wish you could just fall in love with them. If all the stars aligned and you weren't you, it would be perfect. But you are who you are now for a reason. Even if all the moons stood in a line, the sliding doors of life still wouldn't all conspire to get you that perfect someone in that perfect moment of complete and unwanting love.
***
People sometimes use their cellphones not for communication, but to hide from something or hide something. Needless to say, it's a little creepy to find a friend just browsing his/her inbox while you talk. Either they're getting nothing from your exchange, or they are simply too shallow for your company. Move on.
***
I know it takes a lote more muscles to frown, but sometimes, the frown comes to me in the most inopportune instance. Just watched some folks perform last night, and this girl was frowning while she was singing a nice Disney song during soundcheck. I mean, I understand she's probably nervous, but something's wrong with your self-confidence if you more easily frown than laugh at yourself. I know I frown when things turn slightly awry, but at least I know me well enough to be able to laugh at myself before other people do.
***
I don't like drama. But, dammit, awkward moments give you this weird high feeling of making someone else uncomfortable. I recommend people to try it out. And then, when the other person ahs almost recovered from the awkwardness, giggle and say 'ooh, was that awkward for you too?'. If your smile was fake, the laugh that follows that sentence will be one of your night's highlights.
***
Something is growing in the "photography department" in my brain. I don't like clean pictures like I used to. I like pictures constructed with weird detail that only an observant eye can see. The obvious is, well, too obvious. I think it takes away from the power of the camera like inconsequential words take away from the potency of a powerful poem.
***
If you take pictures of people in groups, and one of them asks you if the picture was good, look at the viewfinder and review how that person looked like. Because more often than not, when people ask you if the picture is good, they usually mean 'Did I look good in the picture?' Right, Mads? hehehe.
***
Some landmarks in the month that was:
- It rained a hell of a lot of nights, and it made it so sleeping without the airconditioner on was actually very comfy.
- Me and some friends were able to shoot a wedding, and an office event (and it'll be my first time to shoot in a studio setting this Sat too. I'm psyched!).
- Actually developed a sincere and all-too-real crush on someone. Haven't had that in a really long time. Of course, nothing's gonna come out of it. But it was pretty refreshing knowing that I could still feel all warm and fuzzy....and that there are still people who can take my breath away.
- Instantly became buddies with the fairly-recent ex. It's quite an achievement. I'm either getting mellow as the years wear on, or the attachment wasn't as strong as I thought it was. I'm sticking with reason number one. Ha-ha.
- My laptop was murdered. By mis sister's earrings, no less. Oh well. I reckon as long as I can still get the files backed up, it's not worth killing my sister over. Besides, I think she knows the gravity of the situation precisely because of the lack of audible rage.
- Work gave me a boost in salary, title, and morale. Was it enough? I dare not even try to answer that question. Waaaay too complicated and overly real for this blog.
- "The house always wins," said a friend, pertaining to men and relationships. I'm telling ya, if I could change gender, I would have been male a long time ago. Sucks for women, but makes it a lot easier if you're a woman giving advice to boys(...err, men) when it comes to their relationship disasters.
- Footwork in badminton is improving, but I'm sure that fact is making you yawn right about now. Blah.
- INXS has been keeping me up nights, if not the books that I have been reading. I like Mig Ayesa, not because he's somwehat-Filipino, but because he has the talent to win, and he's a very, very cool, balanced 'artist', aside from the fact that one could fall in love with his rendition of 'Baby, I love your way'.
- The band, after a 2-week break, will be starting practice next week again. And the first order of business is changing the band's name. Hah. I'll let you know if we come up with a more suitable name.

Okay, okay, I know. Waaaaay too much information. Getting back to being quiet and alone now.

PS. Alanis' new acoustic album (she redid all her originals in Jagged Little Pill) is wonderfully stimulating. Makes me wanna go swimming...