That, among other sentiments, makes this already overcast Saturday a tad bit gloomier. The concert will be at the Smart Araneta Coliseum, this coming Tuesday, August 7.
I think my bandmate Musselli is watching. Maybe even Rico, the one who introduced me to Smashing Pumpkins' 90s hits, is too.
For those I know who get to watch, sing your hearts out for me if they do sing 1979 or Tonight, Tonight at all. Although I've heard the new tracks they have on their new album and they sound pretty awesome, too.
It kind of sucks that I haven't blogged for nearly a year and this is the first one I talk about, I know. The sentiment is an affirmation for me to really begin pursuing the higher things in life. My not being able to watch this is just the tip of the iceberg of all other things I suddenly seem to not be able to do, or cannot do, or cannot decide to do. So I'm turning to focusing on priorities. What matters most. My very purpose on Earth, what God created me for.
I hope I don't take another whole year just figuring that out.
Saturday, August 04, 2012
Friday, October 14, 2011
Stackers made me wait an hour for soup
Yes, the Stackers Auss'm Burgers restaurant in Metrowalk did this to me, just about an hour ago while having breakfast with my office teammates Karla and Lea.
To think I was the first person who told the waitress my order, and "One clam chowder" was the first thing out of my mouth, especially as the photo of the soup on their wall displays and the menu really looked yummy.
So the waitress first brought in the fries--perhaps the only surprisingly impressive thing about the place as the P60 order turned out to give you a huge serving--and then Lea's Corned Beef Brekkie, complete with coffee. Karla ordered the same thing and it was served about 15 minutes later. Time elapsed since ordering: about 20 minutes then.
And yet still no soup.
Almost an hour later, after much chat and looking over the two flat screens on the high wall showing a rugby and baseball game each, we decided to follow up on the clam chowder. The waitress looked a bit perplexed and hurried to the kitchen, and then came to our table minutes later to say, "Three minutes po for the chowder, OK lang?"
Of course it didn't take three minutes. And of course she could have been more apologetic, maybe even admitted that they forgot to prepare my order. They could have given us a complimentary soup or dish to make up for the looooong wait. Heck, even free iced tea for all I care. But all we got was a bitch face from the waitress, saying, as she served the soup finally with a steely smile, "Sorry po for the delay," and for some reason her face really didn't look sorry.
That's pretty much it. I can't remember the last time I ordered soup and having to wait an hour for it; I guess there's a first time for everything. And to that bitch-face, unapologetic waitress, wait 'til I send this to your feedback mailbox. Tsk, tsk.
To think I was the first person who told the waitress my order, and "One clam chowder" was the first thing out of my mouth, especially as the photo of the soup on their wall displays and the menu really looked yummy.
So the waitress first brought in the fries--perhaps the only surprisingly impressive thing about the place as the P60 order turned out to give you a huge serving--and then Lea's Corned Beef Brekkie, complete with coffee. Karla ordered the same thing and it was served about 15 minutes later. Time elapsed since ordering: about 20 minutes then.
And yet still no soup.
Almost an hour later, after much chat and looking over the two flat screens on the high wall showing a rugby and baseball game each, we decided to follow up on the clam chowder. The waitress looked a bit perplexed and hurried to the kitchen, and then came to our table minutes later to say, "Three minutes po for the chowder, OK lang?"
Of course it didn't take three minutes. And of course she could have been more apologetic, maybe even admitted that they forgot to prepare my order. They could have given us a complimentary soup or dish to make up for the looooong wait. Heck, even free iced tea for all I care. But all we got was a bitch face from the waitress, saying, as she served the soup finally with a steely smile, "Sorry po for the delay," and for some reason her face really didn't look sorry.
That's pretty much it. I can't remember the last time I ordered soup and having to wait an hour for it; I guess there's a first time for everything. And to that bitch-face, unapologetic waitress, wait 'til I send this to your feedback mailbox. Tsk, tsk.
Saturday, October 01, 2011
Time elapsed: one year
Today it's exactly a year since I joined the company where I'm in. And while this day posed many interesting options and a lot of crazy sh*t, I think I'll stay on longer and take to doing what I love doing most: surprise people.
Buckling up for the next speedy loop!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Never stop reading
About half an hour ago I was able to read something from one of my favorite local authors again, F. Sionil Jose (thanks to my friend Rico who sent me the link to his Philippine Star article). It's met with much delight and pondering on my part. And relief that it's circulating Facebook currently and everyone seems to "Like" it.
I'm hoping they don't stop at just "Liking" it but actually do what it challenges: Read more.
http://www.philstar.com/Article.aspx?articleId=726155&publicationSubCategoryId=79
I'm hoping they don't stop at just "Liking" it but actually do what it challenges: Read more.
http://www.philstar.com/Article.aspx?articleId=726155&publicationSubCategoryId=79
Labels:
f. sionil jose,
shallow,
why are we shallow
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
"This new self takes no prisoners"
I just had to re-post a part of this blog entry that my friend Karla shared with me. It's from Frances Amper Sales' blog. Frances is the editor of OK! Magazine Philippines. I just love how much of an empowered mother she is.
Like her, I know motherhood has changed me. But reading this has amplified that change by a hundred-fold. And I realized what she said here is also the reason I care less what people think--even much less than how much I already cared less then.
"With a child, I have less time now so something better be worth my time. I care less for the trivial. I care even less about what people think.
At the same time, I feel I have so much power now. So much life! I feel I can take on the world and it will bow down before me because I am a mother now. My old self died the day I shed so much blood for my son and a new self was born. And this new self takes no shit. This new self takes no prisoners. This new self has the hands that rock the cradle. And so I rule the world."
Thanks, Frances, for your re-affirming me of my newfound power. Click here to read Frances' article.
Like her, I know motherhood has changed me. But reading this has amplified that change by a hundred-fold. And I realized what she said here is also the reason I care less what people think--even much less than how much I already cared less then.
"With a child, I have less time now so something better be worth my time. I care less for the trivial. I care even less about what people think.
At the same time, I feel I have so much power now. So much life! I feel I can take on the world and it will bow down before me because I am a mother now. My old self died the day I shed so much blood for my son and a new self was born. And this new self takes no shit. This new self takes no prisoners. This new self has the hands that rock the cradle. And so I rule the world."
Thanks, Frances, for your re-affirming me of my newfound power. Click here to read Frances' article.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Where am I?
Taxi driver (to a security guard on the road): Boss, 'san ang Emerald Avenue?
Security Guard: Ah, Emerald na po ito!
I overheard this walking along Emerald Avenue with colleague and friend Karla, and it made me laugh aloud. I thought the driver stupid maybe, or just thought the whole thing funny.
An hour later now and I find myself thinking back on that convo. Why was it so funny? Someone's already there and he doesn't know he was until a guy on the road told him. Pretty mundane, yes, but somehow I see myself in it. Maybe that's why it made me laugh.
Because I would constantly ask myself, unknowingly, where the heck am I? I'm always out of time, out of touch to many friends, always longing to do things I used to do. Where am I?
I'm lost in a sea of work, deadlines, bills to pay, motherhood, being a wife. I'm always everywhere but nowhere, I feel. Sometimes I do get to sneak in things I fancy but it's rare that they last enough for me to lay back, put my feet up, close my eyes and just feel good.
Where am I? I can maybe ask my husband, but he'd tell me something I probably already assume. Because we're together. We're in a family, we're in a home. We're in love. But me, the girl with wild hopes and vast ambition, the woman who once did everything and anything she set her mind on, the daredevil, the adventurer...where's that girl?
Maybe I'm somewhere I already know where, but I've no security guard on the road to tell me.
Shucks. One of those days, one of those.
Security Guard: Ah, Emerald na po ito!
I overheard this walking along Emerald Avenue with colleague and friend Karla, and it made me laugh aloud. I thought the driver stupid maybe, or just thought the whole thing funny.
An hour later now and I find myself thinking back on that convo. Why was it so funny? Someone's already there and he doesn't know he was until a guy on the road told him. Pretty mundane, yes, but somehow I see myself in it. Maybe that's why it made me laugh.
Because I would constantly ask myself, unknowingly, where the heck am I? I'm always out of time, out of touch to many friends, always longing to do things I used to do. Where am I?
I'm lost in a sea of work, deadlines, bills to pay, motherhood, being a wife. I'm always everywhere but nowhere, I feel. Sometimes I do get to sneak in things I fancy but it's rare that they last enough for me to lay back, put my feet up, close my eyes and just feel good.
Where am I? I can maybe ask my husband, but he'd tell me something I probably already assume. Because we're together. We're in a family, we're in a home. We're in love. But me, the girl with wild hopes and vast ambition, the woman who once did everything and anything she set her mind on, the daredevil, the adventurer...where's that girl?
Maybe I'm somewhere I already know where, but I've no security guard on the road to tell me.
Shucks. One of those days, one of those.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Theater actors, time to show muscle - Anton Juan
A good friend who's also a theater actor, Rico del Rosario, sent me an article by Anton Juan, a commentary on the "Sky Flakes and catfood" issue that is slowly but surely garnering fits of outrage from theater actors especially. That newbie filmmaker Rafa Santos should feel like a total fool right now for uttering the completely idiotic on national TV.
--
Sky Flakes and Cat Food and Grace, by Anton Juan
All utterances being signs of a greater context and foreboding, it is my duty as a Filipino artist and educator to flesh out this “Skyflakesand Cat Food” phrase. Evidently it is a symptom of indifference to the construction of words – a malaise that has arisen from the vast mouth of ignorance that is eating up our society. It is a symptom of a “wala lang” (oh, nothing really] malaise in an ABS-CBN cum GMA cum AFP formula Philippine society, where words are not the sincere and true expressions of ideas and truth. Surely in this world, where the insensitive maker of words simply utters out of formulated taxonomies, equivalences to persons, objects, and things will arise resulting in the inhumanity of meaning and cynicism.
In this case, the theatre actor has been, at the origin of the statement, designated as being equal to convenient and sustainable ---and mind you, these words are so mis-used by art and cultural managers, and we must admit, even by theatre managers. But it is the attitude and the lack of insensitivity attached to the utterance that
changes the utterance into a mockery. If the utterer, Mr. Rafa Santos, had been more aware of the field of attitudes that cloak words, and if in his intent he were to make a self parody as all theatre actors do
to “ennoble” their ridiculous talent fees, then first of all he would own the utterance in defiance of the system. But he does not. First of all he is not a theatre actor. In this case he is a celluloid or digital image-maker, with the celluloid or bullet as the medium of his craft. Secondly, his intent is clearly from the “practical” and
exploitative point of view, which is the origin of his encodification of his “skyflakes and catfood utterance” in response to why he cast theatre artist. The theatre artist therefore is now like, in this case a literal image of a stuffed cat in biology labs, to which a formulation has been attached.
And the formulation of this taxonomy is: Theatre actor= skyflakes and catfood; this equivalence translates to theatre actor = sustainable production; theatre actor = sustainable product.
Ergo: use them. They’re cheap.
But this brings us to a wider context. The question by a T.V. host posed an opposition of categories regarding casting framed in a question seeking the reason for choosing the theatre artist as cast -- Santos’ reason being, the theatre artist is: 1. Never late; 2. Is content being fed skyflakes and catfood.
Clearly in these oppositions, there are other cultural interventions: the TV./film industry and how it looks down or upon theatre artists; the theatre artists themselves who would still continue to shuttle from theatre to film/TV. --- inspite of being treated in a non-equitable way by the film industry till they get to a star level
as say Eugene Domingo and other theatre people who have climbed to the top. This statement is only a symptom of the greater system of exploitation that occurs in the industry, and the Hobbesian choices theatre artists, writers, directors, are forced to make - between the mouth of Hell and starvation. Theatre artists indeed can be treated differently from the way movie artists are. While there is a reverence for their discipline, there is in fact that other condescending attitude that yes they can be fed “skyflakes and catfood.” Yet we
theatre artists must also admit there are those among us who apart from the love of art, also love the limelight and are willing to sacrifice for this. This does not mean however that the carrot stick swung before our faces of bigger roles and bigger parts, of directing serials and advertisements that lie, carries with it the care and
pandering given to the sexy pussies (who certainly are not fed cat food) and cocks (who do not peck on the crumbs of skyflakes) who strut around the animal farm, where they get propped up in the kliegs and smoke machines, fully powdered and legally blonde or dumb. For directors there will be the fear these cocks and pussies and hopefuls hold for the “direk” a fear of not being cast in the serials, and God and those who play gods on every exploitative strata and hierarchies know what body and soul they will give to get parts. For theatre artists there is no choice. You are given this month, this number of days, and there is no pandering. Also they can change their mind if they have already assigned you shooting days. Or they can always cancel a call or a shoot. Or cancel you altogether.
So I am not in any way surprised that such a statement should come from the mouth of a petty bourgeois mouth, one which is starting his career as a film director. In fact if he were aware of histories in theatre, there was a time when we actors and directors fed on “Styrofoam” as we called that left over “kropek” made from who knows rotten shrimp shells and fish ground and made into cans and cans of neither yellow nor cream colored squares of Styrofoam that you had to down with a coke. Or cracked biscuits in cans, the discards of
factories. And that was termed as “lamay” ---KUNG may kapeng ipakain sa iyo. E yung REP nga ni tubig wala. I and Bibot used to have kape at pan de sal during Lear and Our Town rehearsals courtesy of our own
remembrance and pocket. Dulaang UP has a “Bring your own mug” policy and coffee and whatever biscuits or turn-overs from departmental parties will grace the table shared. Or Beth bless her soul, and Judy Ick and Teroy at World Theatre Project rehearsals would bring Spanish bread and pasta yet! -- kung anong meron, share. But all of these are not “institutionalized” sustainability.
THESE ARE NOT “SKYFLAKES AND CATFOOD” PAMATID GUTOM OR Consuelo de Bobo. THESE SHARING IS GRACE. GRACE, BY WHICH THE THEATRE ARTIST
LIVES.
The statement this utterer of sounds made is only a sign that yes, there is a vast exploitation of theatre artists within the system of stars of the Film industry. I also believe that this statement is a result of the contagion of the inability to express oneself in words with a definite logic of framing one’s answer before speaking. This
process is lost because precisely in the media, this is the way they speak and this has now seeped into the veins and cells of these upstarts who think they are being witty, and has seeped into the cells of the people who will, wala lang, accept such statements, wala lang, accept corruption, wala lang, that a dictator or a general thief of the country should be buried as a national hero, wala lang, that Caparas should be National Artist magaling naman cya wala lang, or the woman who gets hit by the pressing iron by a drunken philandering husband should believe he really loves her and that is the way to express it wala lang. and that wala lang, pinatay ko cya kasi wala lang, at direk sige na kahit na anu gagawin ko talaga? Sige kain ka
wala lang, kain ka ng CATFOOD, tanga!
Wala lang, utter any it's okay, people won’t remember anyway. Wala lang leads to no sense of history, to the malaise of forgetting. WE then allow these horrible myths and lies to grow and become the eventual meaning of our country and our race.
Maybe we theatre artists should also start to reflect, get stronger, and say: NO WE DO NOT ALLOW.
It is time to REFLECT, seek within ourselves why this equivalent of the theatre artist has come up from the vast mouth of ignorance. TIME TO SHOW MUSCLE.
--
Sky Flakes and Cat Food and Grace, by Anton Juan
All utterances being signs of a greater context and foreboding, it is my duty as a Filipino artist and educator to flesh out this “Skyflakesand Cat Food” phrase. Evidently it is a symptom of indifference to the construction of words – a malaise that has arisen from the vast mouth of ignorance that is eating up our society. It is a symptom of a “wala lang” (oh, nothing really] malaise in an ABS-CBN cum GMA cum AFP formula Philippine society, where words are not the sincere and true expressions of ideas and truth. Surely in this world, where the insensitive maker of words simply utters out of formulated taxonomies, equivalences to persons, objects, and things will arise resulting in the inhumanity of meaning and cynicism.
In this case, the theatre actor has been, at the origin of the statement, designated as being equal to convenient and sustainable ---and mind you, these words are so mis-used by art and cultural managers, and we must admit, even by theatre managers. But it is the attitude and the lack of insensitivity attached to the utterance that
changes the utterance into a mockery. If the utterer, Mr. Rafa Santos, had been more aware of the field of attitudes that cloak words, and if in his intent he were to make a self parody as all theatre actors do
to “ennoble” their ridiculous talent fees, then first of all he would own the utterance in defiance of the system. But he does not. First of all he is not a theatre actor. In this case he is a celluloid or digital image-maker, with the celluloid or bullet as the medium of his craft. Secondly, his intent is clearly from the “practical” and
exploitative point of view, which is the origin of his encodification of his “skyflakes and catfood utterance” in response to why he cast theatre artist. The theatre artist therefore is now like, in this case a literal image of a stuffed cat in biology labs, to which a formulation has been attached.
And the formulation of this taxonomy is: Theatre actor= skyflakes and catfood; this equivalence translates to theatre actor = sustainable production; theatre actor = sustainable product.
Ergo: use them. They’re cheap.
But this brings us to a wider context. The question by a T.V. host posed an opposition of categories regarding casting framed in a question seeking the reason for choosing the theatre artist as cast -- Santos’ reason being, the theatre artist is: 1. Never late; 2. Is content being fed skyflakes and catfood.
Clearly in these oppositions, there are other cultural interventions: the TV./film industry and how it looks down or upon theatre artists; the theatre artists themselves who would still continue to shuttle from theatre to film/TV. --- inspite of being treated in a non-equitable way by the film industry till they get to a star level
as say Eugene Domingo and other theatre people who have climbed to the top. This statement is only a symptom of the greater system of exploitation that occurs in the industry, and the Hobbesian choices theatre artists, writers, directors, are forced to make - between the mouth of Hell and starvation. Theatre artists indeed can be treated differently from the way movie artists are. While there is a reverence for their discipline, there is in fact that other condescending attitude that yes they can be fed “skyflakes and catfood.” Yet we
theatre artists must also admit there are those among us who apart from the love of art, also love the limelight and are willing to sacrifice for this. This does not mean however that the carrot stick swung before our faces of bigger roles and bigger parts, of directing serials and advertisements that lie, carries with it the care and
pandering given to the sexy pussies (who certainly are not fed cat food) and cocks (who do not peck on the crumbs of skyflakes) who strut around the animal farm, where they get propped up in the kliegs and smoke machines, fully powdered and legally blonde or dumb. For directors there will be the fear these cocks and pussies and hopefuls hold for the “direk” a fear of not being cast in the serials, and God and those who play gods on every exploitative strata and hierarchies know what body and soul they will give to get parts. For theatre artists there is no choice. You are given this month, this number of days, and there is no pandering. Also they can change their mind if they have already assigned you shooting days. Or they can always cancel a call or a shoot. Or cancel you altogether.
So I am not in any way surprised that such a statement should come from the mouth of a petty bourgeois mouth, one which is starting his career as a film director. In fact if he were aware of histories in theatre, there was a time when we actors and directors fed on “Styrofoam” as we called that left over “kropek” made from who knows rotten shrimp shells and fish ground and made into cans and cans of neither yellow nor cream colored squares of Styrofoam that you had to down with a coke. Or cracked biscuits in cans, the discards of
factories. And that was termed as “lamay” ---KUNG may kapeng ipakain sa iyo. E yung REP nga ni tubig wala. I and Bibot used to have kape at pan de sal during Lear and Our Town rehearsals courtesy of our own
remembrance and pocket. Dulaang UP has a “Bring your own mug” policy and coffee and whatever biscuits or turn-overs from departmental parties will grace the table shared. Or Beth bless her soul, and Judy Ick and Teroy at World Theatre Project rehearsals would bring Spanish bread and pasta yet! -- kung anong meron, share. But all of these are not “institutionalized” sustainability.
THESE ARE NOT “SKYFLAKES AND CATFOOD” PAMATID GUTOM OR Consuelo de Bobo. THESE SHARING IS GRACE. GRACE, BY WHICH THE THEATRE ARTIST
LIVES.
The statement this utterer of sounds made is only a sign that yes, there is a vast exploitation of theatre artists within the system of stars of the Film industry. I also believe that this statement is a result of the contagion of the inability to express oneself in words with a definite logic of framing one’s answer before speaking. This
process is lost because precisely in the media, this is the way they speak and this has now seeped into the veins and cells of these upstarts who think they are being witty, and has seeped into the cells of the people who will, wala lang, accept such statements, wala lang, accept corruption, wala lang, that a dictator or a general thief of the country should be buried as a national hero, wala lang, that Caparas should be National Artist magaling naman cya wala lang, or the woman who gets hit by the pressing iron by a drunken philandering husband should believe he really loves her and that is the way to express it wala lang. and that wala lang, pinatay ko cya kasi wala lang, at direk sige na kahit na anu gagawin ko talaga? Sige kain ka
wala lang, kain ka ng CATFOOD, tanga!
Wala lang, utter any it's okay, people won’t remember anyway. Wala lang leads to no sense of history, to the malaise of forgetting. WE then allow these horrible myths and lies to grow and become the eventual meaning of our country and our race.
Maybe we theatre artists should also start to reflect, get stronger, and say: NO WE DO NOT ALLOW.
It is time to REFLECT, seek within ourselves why this equivalent of the theatre artist has come up from the vast mouth of ignorance. TIME TO SHOW MUSCLE.
Labels:
Anton Juan,
catfood,
Sky flakes,
theater,
theater actors
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Finally, a screenplay after eons
Yes, one by me, and a friend, Hans Estialbo, is finished after ages and ages. This screenplay for a short had been two years in the making in fact. I still hope it sees film production any time soon--somewhere in between working night and day, being a first-time Kinder mom and a five-year-and-counting wife and housemate.
I don't even know what came over me that day, I just had that urge to again do something I badly wanted to do, create something again. And then maybe that Usana energy pill helped. Or maybe it's the Cannes fever all about. Whatever it was, suddenly the screenplay vein in me popped alive again.
Basti, Bahista tells the story of a slob of a bass player who succumbs to drug addiction, battles with the challenges of unemployment, loses the only precious possession he has in life and then tries desperately to get it back. In doing so, he finds what just might be the true meaning of his life, too.(Not sure if this synopsis actually gives you a picture of anything, but I don't want to spoil it, you know. I mean, if you plan on reading the whole thing at all).
Holler at me if you want a read at it. Or if you want to produce it with me (and Hans if he's still interested).
I don't even know what came over me that day, I just had that urge to again do something I badly wanted to do, create something again. And then maybe that Usana energy pill helped. Or maybe it's the Cannes fever all about. Whatever it was, suddenly the screenplay vein in me popped alive again.
Basti, Bahista tells the story of a slob of a bass player who succumbs to drug addiction, battles with the challenges of unemployment, loses the only precious possession he has in life and then tries desperately to get it back. In doing so, he finds what just might be the true meaning of his life, too.(Not sure if this synopsis actually gives you a picture of anything, but I don't want to spoil it, you know. I mean, if you plan on reading the whole thing at all).
Holler at me if you want a read at it. Or if you want to produce it with me (and Hans if he's still interested).
Labels:
bass guitar,
bass player,
films,
short play
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Juggler
I never ever thought
I'd become a juggler by profession
but today I have been very good at it.
Not quite perfect a trajectory and rhythm
as I had hoped to achieve
but I did it
only the balls were rolling
lazily around my feet
sooner than I hoped.
September 17, 2010
6:30pm, Figaro, Tomas Morato
I'd become a juggler by profession
but today I have been very good at it.
Not quite perfect a trajectory and rhythm
as I had hoped to achieve
but I did it
only the balls were rolling
lazily around my feet
sooner than I hoped.
September 17, 2010
6:30pm, Figaro, Tomas Morato
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
After a promising SONA, P.Noy takes on ManilArt
Only a day after finding out that Noynoy's SONA seemed very promising and inspired the Filipino people to "dream again," I find out about something else about him that's actually laudable on another count. The new Philippine President, barely a month into office, is gracing the 2nd ManilArt - his "first formal engagement together with the art community.
It's refreshing that after instilling hope that something can still be done about the government and our burgeoning budget deficits, President Noynoy is also making efforts to revive art in the country, and in so doing might actually draw more people to support the industry. May this be the start of a renewed art revolution in the country!
The ManilArt exhibit led by distinguished artist Jonathan Sy will officially open on July 29 at the SMX Convention Center, and run up to August 1, 2010. Will try my best to be there. Hoep you do, too!
It's refreshing that after instilling hope that something can still be done about the government and our burgeoning budget deficits, President Noynoy is also making efforts to revive art in the country, and in so doing might actually draw more people to support the industry. May this be the start of a renewed art revolution in the country!
The ManilArt exhibit led by distinguished artist Jonathan Sy will officially open on July 29 at the SMX Convention Center, and run up to August 1, 2010. Will try my best to be there. Hoep you do, too!
Monday, July 12, 2010
Strength in Weakness
“God told me ‘My grace is enough, it’s all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness.’ Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen…Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size – abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.” – Paul, in 2 Corinthians 12:8-10
Today it seems I have a million things to do, and in so little time. My own brain is in itself a microcosm that does not stop buzzing and humming with a jumble of thoughts, words, desires, chores, deadlines.
Weakness right now to me is directly proportional to a perpetual massive headache and sloshing right in the middle of the pond of Not Knowing What To Do First…all while I get anxiety attacks of how to send my daughter to school with the little that we have. Or should I home-school her? See how question after question pours in?
If God’s strength is made perfect in weakness, then let the headaches and sloshing roll in! I am letting Christ take over. Let His name be glorified once I get through!
Today it seems I have a million things to do, and in so little time. My own brain is in itself a microcosm that does not stop buzzing and humming with a jumble of thoughts, words, desires, chores, deadlines.
Weakness right now to me is directly proportional to a perpetual massive headache and sloshing right in the middle of the pond of Not Knowing What To Do First…all while I get anxiety attacks of how to send my daughter to school with the little that we have. Or should I home-school her? See how question after question pours in?
If God’s strength is made perfect in weakness, then let the headaches and sloshing roll in! I am letting Christ take over. Let His name be glorified once I get through!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Sierra Madre/Boston Celtics Almost-Victory

The canopy on the road, too, was just beautiful. All green and refreshing. I took several photos and here are a few of the good ones I think.
I don't know if my posting these was meant to be delayed. Because just today, over at Staples Center in LA where the NBA Finals are, the Boston Celtics - the winning "green team" of the NBA - lost to the LA Lakers in an action-packed game 7. *Wail* Being a fan and bullying the Lakers fans in the office backfired on me!
Here's to the Celtics' almost victory, and to the Sierra Madre that I've seen up close finally for the first time!
Labels:
boston celtics,
pangasinan,
sierra madre
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Whatever You Think, Think the Opposite
It's actually a book that my Creative Director recommends, basically for creative people to become more edgy, think out of the box. Check out Whatever You Think, Think The Opposite here. The phrase also constitutes...well, the mantra that I'm trying to imbibe for myself right this moment.
To be a well of ideas that never runs out, I think this mental state will do me a lot of good. Although it runs a bit contrary to that philosophy in another book on thinking and making decisions, entitled Blink. I've yet to read it, though.
Author Paul Arden, who also wrote other books on advertising and creativity such as It's Not How Good You Are, It's How Good You Want to Be, was the Executive Creative Director of advertising agency Saatchi & Saatchi during its hey days. His British Airways campaign is always regarded as one of the best advertising campaigns of all time.
A year before he died, he wrote a book entitled God Explained in a Taxi Ride, which (according to Wikipedia) "attempted to explain the meaning of life in 125 pages."
Take-home for me: Artists or writers like me always strive to find the best, most out-of-the-box, wowing ideas everyday...but at the end of the day always turn to God for life's true meaning I guess.
To be a well of ideas that never runs out, I think this mental state will do me a lot of good. Although it runs a bit contrary to that philosophy in another book on thinking and making decisions, entitled Blink. I've yet to read it, though.
Author Paul Arden, who also wrote other books on advertising and creativity such as It's Not How Good You Are, It's How Good You Want to Be, was the Executive Creative Director of advertising agency Saatchi & Saatchi during its hey days. His British Airways campaign is always regarded as one of the best advertising campaigns of all time.
A year before he died, he wrote a book entitled God Explained in a Taxi Ride, which (according to Wikipedia) "attempted to explain the meaning of life in 125 pages."
Take-home for me: Artists or writers like me always strive to find the best, most out-of-the-box, wowing ideas everyday...but at the end of the day always turn to God for life's true meaning I guess.
Labels:
advertising,
Creative,
think the opposite,
whatever you think
Thursday, May 20, 2010
The Million Dollar Idea List
It's exactly what it is, according to the book Caffeine for the Creative Mind: 250 Exercises to Wake Up Your Brain. A list of ideas that if ever produced or invented, will make you richer by a million dollars.

First on my list is a battery-operated microwave oven.
I was going to write my second one but I was reminded I need to produce copy for an event invite for one of our banking corporation clients (which I’m sure has more than a million dollars’ worth of assets). They need it this morning, or else.
Hmm. Interesting how I’m doing something giving me a teeny fraction of a million dollars when the one I’m doing it for is probably getting millions more by the second.
Back to work so I can get back to my million dollar list soon!

First on my list is a battery-operated microwave oven.
I was going to write my second one but I was reminded I need to produce copy for an event invite for one of our banking corporation clients (which I’m sure has more than a million dollars’ worth of assets). They need it this morning, or else.
Hmm. Interesting how I’m doing something giving me a teeny fraction of a million dollars when the one I’m doing it for is probably getting millions more by the second.
Back to work so I can get back to my million dollar list soon!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Afterparty
After about a month of fussing over our daughter Jaira's 3rd birthday party (that was Dora-themed, by the way) and laboring over it the whole day of the party done at Garden Ville subdivision in Calumpit, Bulacan, we took to drinking. It was Margaritas and Dry Martinis for me, my sister-in-law and a friend and cold light beer for my husband and the boys, at a place called Umbrella at The Cabanas in Malolos - pretty nice place actually, too bad I didn't take photos of the whole strip, will do soon.
Here's a nice photo of my husband and I. Hooray, and yes we didn't look as dead-tired as we really were.

As I write this, I'm trying to ignore a splitting headache, probably caused by too much thinking and writing for work since last week. I'm behind deadlines and I've a big zit sitting right beside my right eyebrow and I really want to sleep for about two days straight.
This is reminding me that marriage is still swingin' hot for me I guess - a good thing! - since things done with Raffy no matter how hard always come through on a high note, like cocktails.
That, or headaches is a way of life for me, less felt when happy things like Raffy or my dear daughter Jaira are around. :)
Monday, May 17, 2010
Two kinds of people in the world
"There are two types of people in the world. Those who come in the room and say, "Well, here I am!" and those who come into a room and say, "Ah, there you are."
- Frederick L. Collins, Writer
- Frederick L. Collins, Writer
Got this from the book Ideaspotting: How to Find Your Next Great Idea by Sam Harrison.
And just like that I've learned that I'm neither kind. I come into a room and just simply...do my thing.
Or maybe I'm realizing I really want to be the latter and not the first kind.
Which one are you?
Go ahead, I'm listening.
Labels:
Ideaspotting,
listening,
people,
Sam Harris
Friday, May 14, 2010
Behind the supposed Noynoy victory...

...is a whole lot of hoopla still, and burgeoning uncertainty for the Philippines by the day.
I am a self-confessed Noynoy doubter. My bet was actually either Dick Gordon or Gibo for president, though I know it's highly unlikely that any of them would make it. If you ask me, I'd say whatever comes out of the elections now is the government Filipinos deserve. Why? The majority of us just NEVER learn. I mean, come on. Erap on 2nd place? It's bewildering for me.
So anyway, back to Noynoy, who is supposedly a shoo-in for the win, at least as of the May 13 Comelec tally. I can say I am not happy he's going to be president, although I am relieved that it's not going to be a Villar presidency. But for sure I'm not looking forward to the political circus, which I'm sensing is just around the corner, since Gloria is (wow! diba?) congresswoman and a Marcos-trio is going to walk all over our laws and what-not, too.
Add that to the Kris Aquino madness. I read about this happening on Facebook, which was even reported by GMA News, where Kris allegedly declared she's willing to fly out if if she causes any distress in her brother Noynoy's presidency. Some clever Facebook-er had the grand idea of making a "Kris Aquino Despedida" fanpage out of this. Read about the rest of the circus on the news sites and all together let's say "Oh boy" with a dead fish face.
Oh well. What can I say. Good luck, Noynoy.
Photo courtesy of Philnews.com
Labels:
current events,
elections,
Kris Aquino,
Noynoy,
Philippine President,
politics
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Whad'ya know, Willy Wonka's flavor-changing gum has come to life!

Just read an NY Times article on gum ads particularly the ones by Stride, the gum company that also happened to bring to life the rather interesting piece of candy from the 1971 Willy Wonka (starring Gene Wilder) film: gum that changes flavor while being chewed, replicating a three-course meal by tasting first like tomato soup, then roast beef, then blueberry pie. Which by the way I always found cool since having seen the movie when I was 10!
Only Stride's gum creation was not really a three-course meal gum, but a gum that changes fruity flavors as you chew it - going from, say melon to berry, to citrous to mint (check out NY Times for details). But hey, it's almost the same idea!
(Aside: Don't you think though that this original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is way better than the Johnny Depp remake that focuses on Charlie's story? Plus, I really do believe that people who’ve seen the first Willy Wonka have more interesting personalities than those who haven’t. I’m convinced that it does things to your brain: the whole lot of the orange-faced Oompa Loompas that are throngs of real midgets and not CGI, the perpetually eerie expression on Gene Wilder’s face, the works. And aren’t you amazed at how vivid the imagery is, still, even after years and years since first seeing it?)
I just find it amusing that inventions that might have been unheard of many years ago are now mushrooming any given day. Childhood fantasies come true (and heck, who would have thought the Philippine elections a couple of days ago will be successfully automated despite booboos on the sidelines!)...and now I can’t wait for the day I Michael J. Fox’s flying skateboard-trolley-like bike in Back to the Future roaming EDSA’s sky space.
...well, that is of course if God allows it and the end days don’t happen soon.
Now I've two things to look forward to: the day Jesus comes again, or being as cool as Michael J. Fox. I'm okay with whichever comes first. Feel free to ask why.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
SHE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED

Call me the fire beneath the waves,
the stillness in the storm
I am the claw of the crow,
the glide of the swallow
Call me Jesus for I love Him,
Call me the Fallen One
for I succumb to stumbling
Call me a flower,
Call me beautiful,
Call me a woman for I cherish my womb,
Call me an abomination
for my balls command
I saw heaven as I gazed upward
while my feet are in hell
I am an abomination,
I am a curse--
They call me poet,
they call me Woman.
Photo: "Woman In the Waves," a painting by Paul Gauguin, taken from www.1st-art-gallery.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)