On sunshiny days like this I always remember what it was like when I was a kid. I'm reminded of coming home from school, where I was pretty much an outcast for most of my grade school life since I was considered as the weird kid in class. I was reading big books with no pictures and a lot of big words, I had weird clothes and things because my Dad's a hippie and I had no mom and no one believed that I spent my weekends in a beach house, or they believed me and thought I was a snob. But at 2.30 in the afternoon, none of that would matter anymore because I would be home. The helpers would have a merienda of TJ with scrambled eggs and garlic french bread waiting for me while I changed out of my school uniform and into my bathing suit and I'd spend the rest of the afternoon playing with Bear or swimming in the pool until my skin was so wrinkled and blistering from being in the water for too long.
My dad was usually at the job site or with his friends, and when he was home he was working furiously on his drawings. But at that age I never begrudged him the time he didn't spend with me because when he did have time for me it was always fun. And I liked being alone most of the time. It gave me time to retreat into my imagination. I was never lonely. Even when I would eventually become bored, I would just look for the next thing I could do, not for someone to play with.
Lolo's house was always the perfect place for imagining being in different worlds. The garden by the garage became part of the Hundred Acre wood. The pool and the kamias tree was a magical forest and Bear was the well, the bear that would be my protector against giant Rats and freaky birds in the forest.
I don't miss the innocence of that time because I don't think I was ever really innocent. Ignorant maybe, but never innocent. I just miss being Ok with being alone.

We've arrived in Baguio and finally settled in to our room at PNKY House and I am so overwhelmed by the enormous amount of changes this formerly little mountain town went through. I totally missed the turn into Bakakeng where our old house used to be, and I couldn't even find my way to Brent Road! There are new buildings, roads, FLY OVERS!!!! WTF DUDE!!!

I know I keep telling people that living here wasn't so great, but I always loved the town. Baguio is special to me and that's maybe why it took me so long to come back here. 5 years. It's like the town grew into a city without stretching out its boundaries.

Right now I'm just waiting for Glenn to finish the monster crap he's taking so we can go have lunch and hopefully I can get reacquainted with my surroundings.

I feel like I'm having de ja vu amnesia. Like I've forgotten this all before. I don't like the feeling.

A lot to write about. Dawa's wedding is finally over and done with, and it was amazing. After weeks of cramming, rushing, fighting and stressing, the event itself was a true labor of love, and if you permit me to be mushy for a bit, it was a true testament of the relationship between my best friend Dawa and my "kuya" Jay. We were all tired and happy that it was over, but it brought us all closer to each other and I myself am so thankful to have played a part in it. I'm so thankful to Dawa for sharing her family with me, I truly love them all like my own family. And Kix provided so much comfort and laughs aside from doing a lot of leg work himself for the wedding.

The beach trips, the shower, the late nights spent in Dawa's office, the marathon shopping sessions and eventually, the big day, it was all so overwhelming and I will never forget any part of it. The guys over at threelogy did an awesome job with the on-site AVP (except for the close-up of me crying - thanks alot Bong! >:[ ) and I hope they're available for my Dad's wedding next year (Pretty, pretty please!!!)

After the wedding, Eric, Rachel, Kuya Den, the kids and the newlyweds all trekked it over to Bora for a couple of days and Jay wowed us with his dance skills! I don't think I've ever had that much fun in Bora. Ever!

Post wedding, things have quieted down substantially, so I was able to kick it with Glenn and Bianca at the beach for a quiet weekend with Tito Ed, Tita Bunny and the kids. I was so relaxed, one night was all I needed! I am so glad that I'm seeing a lot of Bianca and talking with her lately. I couldn't ask for better friends than the ones I have now.

Speaking of my girls, Bianca and I actually managed to haul Suki out of obscurity on friday night! As usual, hilarity ensued and trips down memory lane. All I can say is, thank God we're able to laugh at ourselves now, because we've been through some funky shit together.

I love how my life goes through stages of hanging with new people but then I always ultimately return to the ones that can tell me I'm a shit to my face. I may not like it, but I think we all need a sharp kick in the ass every now and then to reset our egos. But what's more special is that these same people who keep me grounded are also the ones who make me feel good about myself. 

I've decided to spend as much time in the Beach House while I still can. Pre-mature I know, being as there's no definite date as to when I'm moving to Sing except "sometime in 2008", but I just don't want to find myself some time down the line in crowded, dirty water East Coast Park thinking to myself "I wish I had spent more time in Matuod". So after last weekend's Shaniqua adventure (a separate post on that later on), next weekend it's off to the beach again with the usual Matuod group. We missed our September trip because of the wedding, so we're all pretty much itching to go already. It was supposed to be a trip for all the October celebrants, but too bad it looks like some "classmates" can't make it this time. There's always November, guys! And December and January and whenever we can manage to get there because seriously, I need to clock in more Matuod time.

I haven't been watching a lot of TV these past few months, except for a couple of shows on the Discovery Channel and TLC, so imagine my surprise when my little HBO widget says that the 1989 movie K-9 would be showing at 9pm tonight. This movie is so special to me for so many reasons. First of course is that I love late 80s and early 90s comedy cop movies with odd pairings. Tango and Cash, Lethal Weapon, etc. Then there's the awesome, totally 80s instrumental soundtrack (bum bum oooohh yyyeeeaaahhh). Next is that I watched K-9 over and over with my Dad as a kid. I remember that he would laugh so hard that he would snort.

But I love this movie mainly because of Jerry Lee. Watching it even now reminds me so much of my first dog, Bear. I miss that dog so much. My dad got him for me when I was about 7 or 8 years old and he stayed with us until I was 15. My Dad couldn't give me a brother to play with, and my cousins were all either irritating, older, younger or lived too far, so he gave me Bear. And even though I've had other dogs after him, and they were all great, none of them could ever compare to Bear.

When my Dad had a project in Zambales, my Dad took Bear with him. And when his project stretched until the summer vacation, he took me along too. My Dad liked staying as close a proximity to his job sites and since the house he was building in Zambales faces a beach and a huge sandbar, we would camp out on the beach and build a campfire and everything. In the morning, when my Dad would go over to work, he would leave me in the camp site with only Bear standing guard outside the tent. He would sit and wait there, no chains, and he wouldn't move until either I woke up or my Dad would come back to cook me breakfast.

I dressed up Bear like a doll in clothes, rode on his back like horse, made him pick up stuff for me from across the room. I even talked to him about my problems. I was a lonely kid, at home alone most of the time, and the other kids in school weren't so nice to me. But Bear, he would just sit there while I poured my heart out, just staring at me. Of course I have no delusions that he understood anything I said. But to him, the sun rose and set out of my ass, so when I would call, he would come. When I would talk to him, he paid attention.

Bear kept me company and watched over me. I wasn't the only one attached to Bear. My Dad spoiled him so much. Wherever we went, Bear came along with us. Big, big German Shepherd riding along in whatever small car we had at the time in a 2 hour or more car ride. My Dad would feed him huge, thick pieces of grade A steak. He was so smart, he figured out how to pierce a raw egg with one tooth and suck out the insides while keeping the rest of the shell intact.

He was such a hotshot! He also had a substance abuse problem: Livestock. At one point, my Dad had paid thousands of pesos to the farmers in Matuod because Bear was slowly depleting the chicken population of the area. One day, a random chicken flew into the house. Big mistake. Because he was in Bear's territory now. Bear chased the chicken into the middle bathroom and I chased after him. But I was too late. By the time I caught up with Bear, the chicken was dead in his mouth. I let out a loud gasp and Bear quickly dropped the chicken, and I swear to God, he had the guiltiest look on his face.

Bear was loyal and funny. He was a dog, but he was totally human to me. He was a tough, scary dog, but he was always like a puppy. And no offense to the friends I do have, but Bear is truly the bestest friend I've ever had, and I miss him so much.

Airports bring out the worst in me. I'm all at once defensive and self-deprecating. All the waiting around and laying out every aspect of your life and luggage for inspection just gets to me and makes me think of all the things that I hate about people in general. You're pretty much left to find ways to entertain yourself in between lining up just so you can wait around again to wait in another line. I love to travel, I just hate to TRAVEL.

And I hate flying.

Best commercial I've seen in a while. Look out for Stephen Hawking's cameo appearance.

No one's perfect. Some people appear to be perfect, but me, you can tell right away that I'm not perfect. It's in the way I look, the way I present myself and the way people perceive perfection, they just know: I am definitely not perfect or anywhere even near the vicinity of perfect. But I don't pretend to be, I never have.

I am flawed and I could apologize til kingdom come for my flaws, but I don't have the energy. I'm not doing anything to pursue perfection, and why should I? I'm never going to BE perfect, so why aim to be perfect?

This is the way I am. I am abrasive and defensive. I am attached to my things and to people and to memories. I want so much but do so little to get what I want because I lose interest pretty quickly. I run hot and cold at a snap of a finger, I lie, I get angry and I am so disgusted by perfection.

Why should I have to try to be perfect? I don't see it written anywhere that perfection is the path to happiness.

I'm not jaded, I know that imperfection is not an excuse for certain mistakes. But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm not saying my imperfection is a reason for forgiving me for things I've done wrong. I'm saying that if my imperfections don't affect you directly, then leave me the fuck alone! Because you're not perfect either, are you? And sure, maybe you LOOK like you've got it more together than I do that YOU look like you're closer to perfection than I am, but then there's this: While you're busying yourself with trying so hard to be perfect, I am fine being just the way I am. Which makes self-improvement so much easier, because if I fail or hit a road bump, I don't have to hate myself.

When you go running around and doing all this stuff trying to be the perfect boss, the perfect employee, the perfect adult, the perfect child and the perfect parent, the perfect example of a model citizen and the perfect person that could be the messiah of us all, do you like yourself as much as I like me?

Didn't think so.

Went to Yoga tonight with Dawa, Rache and Sayster. This is the second time I tried Bikram Yoga, and even though I've done Ashtanga on and off for the past four years (bad habit, I know!!!) this totally kicked my butt! The heat is overwhelming and my shirt makes a splat sound when I drop it on the floor after class because of all the sweating. It feels like hell doing it but feels awesome when it's over. I just wish it weren't so freakin' expensive! We prepaid for 3 classes which amounts to P1,000.00 as a special package for first timers. I want to continue with this but the cost is just too much, especially with Dawa's wedding coming up, then Bora after, as well as Juana's wedding in Thailand, Lolo's 88th, Tita Maan's 60th and and all these other events happening within the coming year (more on that next time when I can finally shout it from the rooftops!). I need to work!!!!

Speaking of work, I'm sooo behind on my end of the bargain for mine, Michelle's, Lara's and Anna's project. Drafting this proposal document just isn't in me right now, but since I'm currently in "act like an adult" mode, I just have to do it. Painful, but I need the money and I really miss working with the girls. Speaking of work, I'm back on the Ballet Philippines roster for this next show as designer for their Souvenir Program.

I need to find me a money person who'll tell me exactly what to do with my money every minute of every second of the day. Wishing for a million dollars is so elementary, now I'm just wishing for someone to walk behind me at all hours of the day telling me "I don't think so!" or "Yep, that's the one!" and most especially, "That's too much for a tip!".

I hate money.

My New Obsession

Poetry has always been important to me. It keeps me within the right side of the line between sanity and insanity. When they say "misery loves company", there's no better company for your misery than a poet's ode to their own pain. And when something amazing happens, you think to yourself "There are no words", but maybe YOU have no words, but a poet would have ten different ways to say "There are no words."

For words to be constructed so that they have rhyme* AND reason is just nothing short of magic. The way some poems are made, you would think that these words were invented eons ago just for that moment when a poet would put them together. And for the rest of us who read them or hear them, it's like, "wow. now i understand."

I've been obsessed with watching Def Poetry clips on YouTube. Some people can't stand slam, saying that it's just rap without the DJ and samples, but fuck 'em, they're just uncultured fogies living in the Middle Ages. Shakespeare was awesome, but what I love about Slam is that beneath the flashy beats and the syncopation of just the DELIVERY itself, it's all mostly simple words just put together in a way that no one else every thought of.

Gemini "Poetic Bloodline"




*I realize, of course, that words don't have to rhyme in order to become a poem, but whatever, I'm writing this, you can write your own shit.

Finally! The trailer for the 2009 movie adaptation of WATCHMEN. The pairing up of Zack Snyder's direction with graphic novels seem to be an awesome combination so far, so it's difficult to not be excited about this movie. Add to that the fact that ""WATCHMEN" is the only graphic novel to be on TIME's 100 best books EVER, the killer website and the almost elitist marketing treatment (there hasn't really been much bruhaha about this movie so far. It's all very "If yah know about it then you must be special") I can almost forgive them for not including Gerard Butler in the cast as was originally planned.



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I can't speak in great lengths about "The Dark Knight" yet because so many people still have yet to watch it. What I can say is that I've seen a lot of movies Heath Ledger made in his short life, and I have said a few times that he was cute and I did think that he delivered well enough performances in the past so much so that I don't feel a need to comment on it, but after watching "Batman", well, all I can say is, now I am truly mourning the loss of such a great talent. The man didn't just act in this movie, he brought an element of danger to the character of the Joker that was so ominous and so... Eerie. Like his presence alone meant that the end was near. Maybe it's the fact that he's deceased in real life and that all played out so suddenly and yet so publicly, I don't know and I'll never know. The last thing I'll say is that after seeing Heath Ledger's final performance in Batman, knowing that we'll never see a follow up to that performance makes me almost want to cry.