"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.

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.

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.

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).

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

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!

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!

Sierra Madre/Boston Celtics Almost-Victory

I loved looking at Mt. Sierra Madre - one of the longest mountain ranges in the Philippines - up close, and for the first time too! I got a breathtaking view even if it was only from the car, as my friends and I together with my husband Raffy made our way from Lingayen, Pangasinan (for a beach getaway weekend, which turned out to be so much fun!) down to Tarlac to go to my friend Sheen's house.

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!

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.

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!

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. :)

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

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.

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

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.

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

One for the Books: Ricky Lee

(This article originally appears in Talk Talk Tilaok April 2010 issue)

“Hindi naman totoong walang nagbabasa na Pilipino.” – Ricky Lee

It was a breezy Sunday morning when I walked up the familiar green gate of Ricky Lee’s house in Xavierville, Quezon City. Matagal-tagal na rin simula ng huli akong pumunta sa bahay na ‘yon, na laging bukas sa lahat ng kaibigan, estudyante, workshopper o kahit sino pang gustong bumisita o matuto mula kay Ricardo Lee, the multi-awarded film and TV scriptwriter, fictionist, journalist and playwright. As for me, once an attendee in his 2004 scriptwriting workshop, I’d always have fond memories of learning and simply having a good time in that house.

I couldn’t help but feel giddy to be back in the home of possibly the best storyteller in the Philippines; the mind behind many of the Filipino film classics, from Himala, recently recognized by CNN as The Best Film of All Time in Asia-Pacific, to Moral, Salome and Karnal. Springing in an era considered to have been Philippine film’s golden years, Ricky Lee did not stop churning out thought-provoking stories that captured the Filipino soul: you got Anak, Rizal and Tatarin among his latter works to prove that.

With 150 film scripts since 1979 under his belt, many of them award-winning, on top of his works as a journalist, fiction writer, TV consultant and in the past few years, as a novelist, he continues to write with a childlike openness that only thinks outside of the box.

Sir Ricky greeted me with a warm embrace right off the staircase, akap ng guro at kaibigang matagal nang di nakita. The interview he granted me, while shedding light to his current activities driven by a newfound passion, was also the chance I’ve long been waiting for to rekindle ties with a respected mentor, with everybody’s “Tatang.”

Revived fictionist
Since 2004, Ricky Lee has been ABS-CBN’s drama division creative manager, and on exclusive terms. During this onslaught of TV work, however, the fictionist in him was being brought back to life. He confessed, “Hindi ako nakapagsulat ng pelikula outside. Puro telenovela ang hinandle ko, from Lobo to Maging Sino Ka Man, Lovers in Paris, hanggang Dahil May Isang Ikaw.”

“During those years, dahil buhos na buhos ako sa TV, dun ako nakapagisip isip na matagal kong nabitiwan ang pagsusulat ng fiction, kaya nagkaroon ako ng craving for creative work. On the side, nagsulat ako ng mga nobela. Three years ago nang nasulat ko yung draft ng tatlong nobela,” he added.

On Para Kay B and his new advocacy
His work bore fruit, and on November 30, 2008, his first novel “Para Kay B (O Kung Paano Dinevastate ng Pag-ibig ang 4 out of 5 Sa Atin)” was launched at the UP Bahay ng Alumni. The book tells of five unconventional yet touching tales of love built on the ‘statistic’ bannered by the title of the novel. Although he has aready previously released books Trip To Quiapo, a scriptwriting manual, and Si Tatang at mga Himala ng Ating Panahon, a collection of his short stories and articles plus the screenplay of Himala, Para Kay B is close to his heart for it was a dream come true.

Bulto-bultong kaibigan, tagahanga, dating estudyante at kilalang celebrities ang dumalo, not only as spectators but also as helpers in mounting the event. Heartwarming, lalo na dahil sa ginawang reading ng mga excerpts mula sa nobela nina Piolo Pascual, Lorna Tolentino, Gina Alajar at iba pang artista.

Lee explained that writing his first novel, along with the launch and the mall tour efforts that followed, propelled his advocacy, na buhayin ang pagbabasa ng mga Pilipino ng literature na sariling atin. He told me of his observations. “Napansin ko, ‘pag pumunta ka sa mga library at sa mga bookstores, usually 10 o 20 percent lang ang Filipiniana.

“Naisip ko, mas exciting yatang pumasok sa field na ‘to at patunayang pwede akong magsulat ng nobela sa Pilipino na maraming magbabasa. Para dumating yung time na pupunuin ko kasama ng iba bang Filipino writers ang mga bookstores natin hanggang maging 80 percent Filipiniana naman.”

“Ginawa kong madaling basahin, para masabi nung mga nakabasa sa iba na ‘Uy mababasa mo ‘to,’ kahit na nobela,” he added. And he was right, for after Para Kay B was released, he was pleased with the response he got from the readers.

“Napatunayan ko na hindi naman totoo na walang nagbabasa na Pilipino. Hahanapin mo lang sila, tutuntunin, kasi nawala na sila sa habit ng pagbabasa, o natabunan na ng TV, pelikula at kung ano ano pa.”

Which is why, he said, instead of simply waiting for people to read published novels, a Filipino book author must go out of his way to reach out to them, and that he did. “Talagang pinagpaguran ko. And then nagba-blog ako, nagfe-Facebook, sinasagot ko lahat ng nagbabasa, nagfi-feedback tungkol sa libro. Kumonekta ako sa readers ko, hanggang nakikilala ko sila lalo,” Lee added.

On being encouraged by OFW readers
Ricky Lee went on to tell me about OFW readers’ response to Para kay B, and how this further encouraged him to write more books, specifically his second novel in the works, “Aswang.”

“Si Ricky Lo, na madalas ipagkamali sa akin, bumili sya ng 20 copies at nagregalo sa mga kaibigan nya abroad. May mga tumawag na daw sa kanya kaagad, saying ‘Uy nabasa na namin in one sitting! Ano pa bang mga gawa ni Ricky dyan?’

“So lalo akong na-encourage na ituloy itong advocacy, at ituloy ko itong Aswang at iba pang mga libro. Hindi ko magagawang magbasa sila lahat pero may malaking number ng mga Pilipino na nagbabasa na enough para mabuhay ka bilang isang nobelista.

Joan: Is there a difference in terms of fulfillment between finishing a screenplay and a novel?
Ricky Lee: Oo, ibang-iba, ang sarap sa nobela! Kasi sa pelikula, from step 1 hanggang final draft ng script, hanggang matapos ang shooting, may nakasawsaw at mas may kapangyarihan pa kaysa sa’yo. Pagkatapos ng lahat, madalas hindi mo na ma-recognize yung trabaho mo.

Sa nobela, marami akong kinonsulta. Nagfocus group ako, nag-survey, nakinig ako sa lahat ng tao. But in the end, ako pa rin ang nasunod. Sa pelikula, pag pinanonood na, natutukso akong sabihin sa katabi kong nanonood na ‘yung part na yan, hindi akin yan. Pero sa nobela, aking-akin.

Joan: So, more books from Ricky Lee in the future?
Ricky Lee: Oo, maglilibro ako ng maglilibro. Importante ang libro e. Importante rin ang pelikula at TV, magkakapatid lahat yan. Pero libro ang kailangan itulak, so gusto ko doon.

Joan: How about your writing workshops?
Ricky Lee: Hindi naman ako tumigil sa pagwoworkshop ko ng libre sa mga gustong magsulat, simula pa noong 1982, at hindi pa rin ako titigil. Magpapaworkshop pa rin ako, under ABS-CBN or kahit ako lang, sa film and TV, maybe even fiction writing.

Iba rin ang kasi ang nakakapag-share ka ng talent. Kung i-co-consider ko ang sarili ko as mahusay, malaking dahilan doon ay dahil hindi ako tumigil sa pagwo-workshop. Kung may naituturo man ako sa kanila, natuturuan din nila ako. Kaya naman nagiging mas bukas ako, mas flexible and in the end naging mas imaginative.


Joan: You’ve been talking of Ricky Lee as a writer. Sino naman si Ricky Lee bilang isang tao?
Ricky Lee: Hindi ko hinihiwalay ang pagiging writer ko sa pagiging tao ko. Parang ang isang doktor, nanggagamot siya may bayad man o wala, dahil doktor siya. Ako writer, parang part ng breathing ko na iyon, magsusulat ako hanggang sa mamatay dahil writer ako.

Kalahati ng writing ko ang pagtuturo. Ang paniniwala ko kasi, an artist has to share always. Di ka huhusay kung di ka nagsi-share. Mabubulok ang talent mo. And finally, music. Music ang passion ko. Maski anong klaseng music---rock, ballads, broadway, jazz, rap, hiphop. Nagpapatugtog ako habang nagsusulat.

Joan: What is your message to OFWs who also want to write?
Ricky Lee: Isa sa mga topics closest to my heart ay ang buhay ng mga OFWs. Ang first and second plays ko, Pitik Bulag sa Buwan ng Pebrero at DH with Nora Aunor ay parehong tungkol sa mga OFW. Marami rin akong pelikulang nagawa tungkol sa kanila, Miss x, Flor Contemplacion, Anak at Dubai.

Pero gaano man ako kainteresado o karami ang maisulat ko tungkol sa mga OFWs, in the end ang pinakamakakapagkuwento pa rin ng buhay nila ay sila rin. Napakarami nilang mayayamang karanasan doon na sana ay marinig natin sa sarili nilang boses.

He needed to go to Regal Films for a meeting he said, and was sorry he had to rush; it was already past lunch time. Habang nililigpit ko ang laptop at siniguradong na-record ang aming interview, nakangiti akong napaisip sa mga susunod kong gustong gawin: basahin ulit ang Para Kay B, iba pang akda ni Ricky Lee at ng iba pang Pilipinong manunulat, at patuloy pang magsulat at mamuhay nang bukas ang isip. Thanks to ever-generous, tireless artists like Ricky Lee, people like me can prove that yes, Filipino books can flourish; and that yes, life itself can be much fuller and more meaningful.

Catapult

I’m an addict,
never could see
when my urges take over
and beat up one of my three
little selves,

High-strung with life’s speedy
Joyrides and
Miscalculations I ask question after question
To your ire
and to my needy
addiction, feeding
And here I thought I was done with
Pointless questioning

Oh how I lose myself too much in the puddle,
and I hate that my spouse and
child settle for my watered-down self on most days.

I miss aimlessness
And hours of un-thinking
And just living.

And so on a catapult I prop my feet
ready to be swung away
to only my Creator knows where –
should be an alright addiction,
free and sweet,
I’ll see you in mid-air.

Amazing!

Amazing!

As I spent time with the Lord just now reading His word, I’ve come to realize something amazing: Jesus remembered to pray for me, and for all of us who believe in Him, even before He died. Even before He gave Himself up to be crucified. Don’t believe it?

In John 17, Jesus prayed for Himself as He knew the time of His crucifixion was nearing. He asked God the Father to glorify Him that He also may glorify the Father. And then right after that, He goes on to pray for His disciples then, as He would leave them behind for the world to persecute and experience all kinds of tribulation. John 17:14-19 says, as Jesus went on to pray for His disciples:

“I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them, by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified.”

...in the earlier verses, John 17:10-11, He says this, still praying for His disciples:

“All I have is yours, and all you have is mine. And glory has come to me through them. I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of Your name—the name you gave me—so that they may be one as we are one.”

As I was reading that I thought, wow, what a true friend Jesus was to them. He prayed for His 12 disciples! In the earlier passages He even remembered Judas, who at that point in time was just about to betray Jesus by giving Him up to the soldiers to make the arrest and bring Him to trial. And aren’t we taught that when we pray for someone, we really allow God to work in that person’s life? It’s amazing what happens when God’s people pray for each other, and yet Jesus prayed for his friends, His disciples! Imagine the blessing they would receive, and boy did they receive blessing – the Holy Spirit to begin with, to protect them from the evil one, plus anointing to heal the sick, to speak in tongues.

And as if that wasn’t enough reassurance, John 17:20-21 goes on to show the rest of Jesus’ prayer – this is really the point I’m driving at: He prayed for you and me:

“My prayer is not for them alone. I also pray for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world will believe you have sent me...”

And then verse 24 goes, “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.”

You may ask why this is important to me, why I should blog about it. I guess because this makes even more real to me the concept of HOPE, more so, hoping in the Lord. I now know more than ever that to hope in the Lord for better days is never in vain, because Jesus Himself already thought of me, even prayed for me, right before He died on the cross for me and my sins. He prayed for you, and all else who believe His word to be true, and accepted Him as his Lord and Savior. So whenever we pray and ask in His name, we know it shall never be in vain. We know we will receive His blessing, at His perfect time. Because He prayed for us first! He prayed for all of us even before we started praying for our own concerns. Think about it. Jesus loves us that much. I say this because I know how hard it is for some to spend time in earnest prayer, what with the busy lives we all lead – I myself find it hard to give God quality time in prayer. But now knowing that Jesus prayed for me brings me joy and encouragement to pray for myself and others. It’s no phony realization whatsoever – you can ask me, even here, to pray for you. What is it in your life do you want me to pray for? Post a comment and I will pray for you.

Hope in the Lord. It will never be too old a truth. And never get tired of praying. Just my two cents.

It's a mistaken world

always trying to turn you into someone else
or trying to be something else
when it was just fine otherwise
always on its feet
shuffling the Cha-cha
when the tempo's
set for Tango

and a funny one, too
with enough jokes and gags, wrong turns and crashes
to get you laughing lightyears
though ironically
and if you're lucky
or charmed or blessed
however you call it
you can make it through
a tad smarter,
a genius even,
that's affably affected
by years of mistakes
mistaking you
for a big mistake.

Layoff Psychology – Or At Least How It Happened To Me

It wasn’t the perfect job, but when I got a callback from the online-selling promotional products company back in October 2007 hiring me to be their newest copywriter, I thought just that. Not that my copy editing job prior was that bad—in fact it’s still one of the companies that I’m proud to have been associated with to this day—it just that, well, I felt underpaid and undermined. Thus my eagerness to get into this new company that promised an exciting new work environment, and a host of benefits you can’t find elsewhere!

November 1st was my starting date, basically because the company wanted me to begin right away. Now I’ve never been a superstitious person, though I’m occasionally curious of eerie events, but now when I look back I sometimes find myself thinking, maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to start then.

Working there wasn’t quite as I imagined it would be, but it was okay. I was treated decently, I gave them what I was asked of—copy for all new merchandise to be uploaded in company website’s online catalogue, pretty much. The team I got assigned to wasn’t necessarily my idea of friends, but then I’ve always been complimented to have the talent of making friends anywhere. What I looked forward to everyday were the coffee breaks and lunch hour, where I would get together with two of my colleagues whom I’ve become friends with during my previous employment – actually we resigned from there at around the same time, too, and got jobs in this new company. To that end I guess it was almost the perfect job, working with friends.

Three months into the job, and things started getting shaky. The company was US-owned, and with the economical recession then in the advent of burgeoning into the gaping hole it is today, the execs were all on their toes, panicky. Soon talk of “cutting costs,” “making ends meet,” and eventually, “company-wide layoff” became everyone’s daily gossip.

It was funny, because I didn’t feel that much affected – not that I had zero fears of getting fired, after all I was one of the newest ones onboard – but somehow, for some weird reason, I was indifferent about the whole thing. Sure, I engaged in talk of so-where-do-we-go-next-if-ever among close friends, but not every two seconds like the others.

A week passed, and indeed, the layoff happened. First two, then four, sometimes even almost a dozen people at a time, one department after another. Accounting. Sales. Art. Marketing. Still not feeling the tension.

Then that evening came. I got to work pleased that traffic wasn’t half-bad when it was in fact Friday night, ergo congested EDSA night. I ran into my supervisor on my way up the building, talking in a hushed tone with two of my other colleagues. I thought nothing of it and went straight to the elevators.

Mindless hours later and into my coffee/cigarette break, I went out and there’s my supervisor again, this time she told me, “Joan, they’re asking me to pick three people.”
I honestly thought my heart sank, but it didn’t, although I pretended to be devastated. It was really funny, this feeling of distance from all the panic. She went on about assessing performance, tenure and all that, but I could really care less, I thought then. Maybe it was an instant defense mechanism? I didn’t know. But I remember just thinking then, if it’s going to happen to me, then let it. I’ll manage. Or maybe, I was really convinced at the back of my head that I was going to stay. I mean, I did a kickass job at copywriting, why would they want to kick me out?

Conference call, everyone in the team was in the room. The VP from offshore rambled on and on from the loudspeaker about how she didn’t see this whole thing coming, how she thought each one of us was valuable and indispensable. It was all white noise to me. And then finally, the names. Three people.

She said my name last.

I swear, I did not expect to be the least bit stirred. But I was actually floored to the hilt! I realized then that the reason why I was indifferent all the while was because I really did not expect to get fired, and I really did not want to be, no matter the countless times I’ve said the words “there are so many other jobs out there, anyway.” And just about then, when everyone was consoling me, even telling me the company made a bad call kicking me out and that I deserved to stay, the reality of being “jobless” started to hit me like one thick hardbound thumping on my head after another. I thought about my baby girl just about to turn one that year, my mom and my two brothers still studying who depended on me, especially since my dad had just died two months prior. My husband had a decent job, sure, but his salary alone would not be enough.

I kept cool going through the paperwork that very same day. No more coming to work Monday, they said, but I’ll be paid for a whole month on top of my last paycheck.

It wouldn’t be until two months after that I’d find another job. Not the same benefits, what with all other companies tightening belts as well I guess, but decent enough pay, not to mention more challenging. But the days that followed the layoff were grueling, I must admit. It wasn’t easy to find a new job with the description and salary you want, and start from scratch again when you’ve just settled in. I found myself busying with other things besides applications, like my mother’s small business that sadly didn’t do well, and taking a work-from-home stint that ended up not so well either. I had to brave myself to face everyday knowing I did not have the security I used to have, reassure myself that I was worth a company’s trust and investment. And I had to learn to fully, even blindly, trust God to take care of things for me.

I turned out okay, and it’s been over a year. I’ve put the experience behind me, and I look back to it with a smile now and a lot of gratitude – I still have that same job and it paid the bills. Getting laid off and being able to go through it and survive has permanently reshaped my character, I must say. I’ve learned to adapt better, to hold on, to value what I have. It taught me to be prepared for any jab and that sometimes it can be an uppercut from nowhere, and how to cope when it does hit hard on the nose. And now that recession continues to happen and affect many others – would you believe, my husband got laid off just last week! – I know better than to care less and rather, prepare for the worst. Prayer has never failed me too, I learned, and so I continue to trust Him and let Him be God. Yes, never mind if my next job come another year or so signs me up to start November 1st again.