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.



____________________________

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.

More movies to look out for....

This list is different from the first one I posted because these aren't big Hollywood films, but instead, amazingly written and directed passion projects. Most of which were submitted to Cannes and won at various Film festivals around the world.

ANAMORPH stars Willem Defoe as a cop investigating a serial killer who uses his victims as subjects for his Anamorphic paintings. Anamorphosis, for those of you who don't know, is a style of painting first created by the Chinese then brought to Italy during the Baroque period where images appear as 3d when viewed with a mirror or at certain angles and perspectives. If the movie stays true to the trailer, there's a new Hannibal Lecter in town. Only, he isn't really EATING his victims more than actually immortalizing them in his macabre but very artistic, gothic art.

 

DIMINISHED CAPACITY. Starring Matthew Broderick as a former Newspaper Editor downgraded to the comic strip detail after suffering a serious concussion, who goes back home to help out his almost senile uncle, played by Alan Alda, who's about to lose his home, along with the rest of his, um..."facilities". After the discovery of a very valuable baseball card amidst the junk his uncle keeps in his home, Broderick and Alda travel to Chicago to find a buyer for this "Almost Mint-Mint" card.



MISTER LONELY. Diego Luna stars as a Michael Jackson impersonator who moves to a commune where everyone is a copy of someone else. Ran by Marilyn Monroe, along with her husband Charlie Chaplin and their daughter Shirley Temple, the commune builds a world for themselves. Sounds like a comedy, sure, but the story (again, this is based on what I've seen in the trailer) seems to be beautiful and heartbreaking. Can't wait to see this one. Plus, you know...it's DIEGO LUNA!!!



CALIFORNIA DREAMING is not set in California. It isn't even set in the US. It's comedy of Shakespearean proportions set in a small Romanian village. A small group of soldiers find themselves stranded in this little, nowhere town, where they're only too happy to stay and romance the village ladies. That is, until trouble starts up.



a better trailer can be found here

MAN IN THE CHAIR. For anyone who's ever wanted to make movies. MAN IN THE CHAIR is a story about a teen misfit who enlists the help of a bitter, old Hollywood has-been to make a movie for entry into a high school competition. The movie poses the tag line "It's never too late to change your life story" so I'm guessing this movie will be funny at times, poignant all throughout. And while these days I like to veer away from the "it's never too late" genre of movies, this one looks too good to pass up. WAAAAY too good to pass up. "The man in the chair can never be a guesser."



NEAL CASSADY. Ka-chug-ka-chug-ka-chug. The trailer plays like the writing of the Beat generation. Ka-chug-ka-chug. Legend has it that Neal Cassady died from hypothermia after counting railroad ties for days on foot. He was the perfect anti-hero of the time. He not only rode the bus, he DROVE the bus. He didn't just walk on the wild side, the song was about him. He was Dean Moriarty. And if you don't know any of these references (I would faint if someone called them obscure. For shame!!!) pick up a copy of Kerouac's "On The Road". Listen to a couple of Lou Reed records. Watch this short video. Then the trailer...

This is a poem I wrote for someone who lied. Not to me, but this person's lie affected too many people. This person went too far. So, I put a lot of thought and time into this poem, and so much of my pain and soul, I think, can be glimpsed through this piece. So here's the poem....

"To the person who lied" by Margaux Hontiveros

FUCK. YOU.

I'm weaning myself off cigarettes. Here I go again...

Movies I'm excited to see....

"Vicky Christina Barcelona"

I've been a Woody Allen fan for as long as I can remember. Or at least, for as long as I could actually understand all the neurosis behind the stories. But since "Everyone Says I Love You", I haven't exactly been excited about any of his films. Until I saw the trailer to "Vicky Christian Barcelona". Allen continues with his obsession with Scarlett Johansen with a story about two American girl friends who vacay in Spain and fall for the same Painter who has a vixen for an ex-wife. The cast if made up of some awesome actors like Javier Bardem, Patricia Clarkson, Penelope Cruz (I've been waiting for her to do another comedy. Bandidas sucked.) and of course, Scarlett Johansen, and Spain as the backdrop, I cannot be more excited than I am to watch a NEW Woody Allen movie.

"Sixty Six"

From the makers of "Billy Elliot" and "About A Boy" comes another coming of age story set in the UK. This one's kinda different though. It's still got the subtle hilarity factor that I loved from both aforementioned movies. But this one's a story about a Jewish boy in the 50s who's always the last to get picked. When it comes time for his Bar Mitzvah, he thinks, wow, finally, his time to be the center of attention. Only problem is...the day that he's scheduled for his big shebang into Manhood is also the day of the World Cup Final. What's a boy to do? "That's the thing about being Jewish - You haven't got foreskin, you seen a lot of BALLS to make up for it!"

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"Burn After Reading"

Directed by the Coen Brothers and starring Brad Pitt, George Cloony, Tilda Swinton and John Effing Malcovich. And it's a comedy. Written by the Coen Brothers. I have nothing else to write about this. I have no words.

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"Wanted"

Angelina looks soooo hot in this new movie. I hear it's an adaptation of a comic book, but whatever. Like I'm into comic books anyway. Oh, sorry! Graphic Novels. In any case, the movie looks like it's gonna kick some serious ass. Is it wrong that I like Angelina Jolie holding a gun? The movie also stars rapper Common, James McAvoy(love 'em Glasgow boys) and Morgan Freeman. McAvoy plays a loser nobody who's recruited into "fraternity of assassins". But the good guy assassins. And they can all bend bullets like Beckham bends balls. Yep, it's definitely a Graphic Novel adaptation. I'm just really thankful they went with McAvoy instead of that dork who played Spiderman or that Hobbit.

"Righteous Kill"

Pacino, De Niro and lines like "Most people respect the badge. Everybody respects the gun." Need I say more? PACINO AND DE NIRO!!!!



"Choke"

Based on the book of the same title by Chuck Palahniuk (THE writer of "Fight Club"), Sam Rockwell (who played an awesome psycho in "Confessions Of A Dangerous Mind") is a sex addict who pretends to choke on his food in restaurants. As a con. Apparently he plays psychos really well. They say don't judge a book by its cover, so it should follow that you shouldn't judge a movie by its poster. But the poster for choke is just so awesome! It's like a kick back to old 70's movie posters, and strangely enough it does have a Palahniuk feel to it too.

"Mamma Mia"

In the spirit of "Across The Universe", this musical is a tribute of sorts to ABBA. Admit it, you love ABBA! Singing "Dancing Queen" at the Videoke place, humming "Fernando" on a starlit night, secretly wishing you and three other friends could do the "Take a chance, take a chance" bit. Starring the FAHbulous Meryl Streep (nice to see her softer side again) and Amanda Seyfried aka Lilly Kane (how many people are gonna get that reference?), Pierce Brosnan and Colin Firth. The story is set in beautiful Greece (at least that's what it looks like) and Amanda Seyfried is getting married, and what girl wouldn't want her Father to walk her down the aisle. Only thing is, her mother (Streep, who is another underrated Comedic actress) hasn't told her who her father is. Sneaking a peek in to her mother's diary, Seyfried invites three men from her mothers past and by her powers of deduction (and dance numbers), proceeds to find out which one is her father.

"The Wackness"

It's 1994. It's the days of hoop earrings, crimped hair in a high half pony tail, Beverly Hills 90210 and seriously FRESH hip-hop. It's summer in New York and Shapiro, a small time Marijuana dealer and virgin is about to go to college in the fall. In the mean time, he spends his summer dealing to his Shrink and falling in love with his shrink's step daughter. Starring Ben Kingsley, Method Man and the once fat but now skinny Josh Peck(Drake and Josh), the trailer with the music, slang, grafitti and pop culture references ("You look like Jason Priestley") make me so nostalgic. I am so excited to see this movie.

I am so excited about this movie. The freakiest children's book I've read since Grimm's.

Just spent the afternoon fixing the living room, cleaning out boxes and containers and basically moved everything around so that it looks like a whole new house. After last weeks revamp of my room, I'm on a freakin' roll!!! All the cleaning and rearranging felt good, until it came time to move out some of the stuff in my room and move my desk in here. It looks different. My room even FEELS different. Well, atleast I can work on a table again. I have this weird habit of rearranging stuff when I know I won't be going anywhere the following day. Gives me time to get used to my new surroundings. I'm a creature of habit, I guess.

At this very moment, my father is in a plane, en route to the city of Male in the Maldives. Tomorrow will be the first Father's Day I spend without my father. 27 years old and I'm still a Daddy's girl. But I'm trying something new, as suggested by my Dad, and that is trying to make the most out of any situation and find the joy in simple things.

So I've come home early on a saturday night, cranked up the AC in my room, snuggled under my favorite feather down comforter covered in my new sheets, popped in a comedy in the DVD player and turned off all lights, save for my side table lamp. I'm all comfy cozy in my bed with my Mac on my lap and a small tub of fresh cherrys. I'm so relaxed and content, I may even go to bed early.

This isn't so bad. Actually, it's pretty cool. I'm so relaxed, even content, that I may actually go to sleep early. I guess Father really does know best.

So to all the fathers, Happy Father's day.

To my Dad, thanks. All this comfort and relaxation I'm enjoying right now is all because of you. Not just because you work hard enough to give me a comfortable life, but because you taught me that it's moments like this that make life worthit: A quiet night alone when you know that the world outside is going on without you, and it's alright.

Contrary to what my Dad believes, it doesn't take much to make me happy.

For example, a sunny day at the beach? Makes me happy.

A brand new shirt that's whiter than Michael Jackson? Makes me happy.

Finding a ten peso coin in my pocket or bag that I wasn't looking for? Makes me happy....

Finding out that I can buy Royce chocolates right here in Manila? RAPTURE!!!!

KONBINI STORE
#57 Connecticut St., Northeast Greenhills
San Juan City
Tel. No. 722-4263

When Little Girls No Longer Believe In Fairy Tales.

In the Mommytracked blog (please don't ask what I'm doing reading a blog for MOMMIES. It's not what you think!) there is an "Anti-Princess" Reading List.

Mommytracked says: "Snow White and Cinderella certainly have their place in all children's hearts. But if you want your kids to grow up believing that girls should dream of more than just kissing the prince, check out these books.
Each of them features strong, smart, spunky girl protagonists that want to eat bugs, get first place in the science fair and grow up to be a teacher, a doctor, a firefighter or even a diva."

The list consists of titles like "Grace for President", "Pirate Girl" and "Kate and the Beanstalk".

I grew up surrounded by strong women. I was influenced by strong women. Even the floozies my dad used to date were intellectuals, athletes, business and civic minded women with strong passions and convictions. I was taught that if you had no ambition, no drive, then you were a waste of air.

BEING a housewife wasn't looked down on, but WANTING to be a housewife raised eyebrows. Beauty Pageants and the like were laughed at and trophy wives were made fun of. Which is weird since the women in my family (and the women my Dad dated) are all exceptionally beautiful. Even as a child I was programmed to roll my eyes at Snow White as she lay comatose inside a glass coffin guarded by little men, and feel an affinity to Alice with her spunk and fighting spirit.

I've been breaking my back for almost three decades now to be an ANTI-PRINCESS. I know nothing else but that. I know I'm supposed to care more about Shakespeare and Bauelaire than Cosmo and Vogue. That I'm supposed to be moved by the aesthetics of a Philippe Stark colander more than a Manolo Blahnik mule. That knowing the trials and sins of Lightnin' Hopkins than the sins of Britney Spears. That it's more valuable to know how to make a paella than a chocolate cake. That's all I know, it's what I grew up knowing, it's what I live, it's what I preach.

But when I came across the reading list, I couldn't help but think how different my life would have been all these years if only I'd have been more interested in boys than books, in clothes than computers, in making myself pretty rather than making things pretty. In baking cookies and cakes rather than alcohol drenched entrees. If I had been more of a PRINCESS would I be conflicted about Marriage? About children? About work?

In the past, a woman was EXPECTED to marry and have children. And if school or work got in the way of that, there was no question which would be thrown out the window with the bath water. And sometimes, there was no choice either. A woman would wait for her Prince Charming to rescue her. A woman in those days went from her father's house to her husband's house.

I'm thankful to the whole Women's lib movement, Virginia Slims ads and burning of the bras. Really, I am. Because of all that, I have a choice. Be a PRINCESS or and ANTI-PRINCESS. But sometimes having choices just means that there's a RIGHT choice and a WRONG choice. And you all have to admit that you want your daughter to be more Oprah and less Martha (without the Prison time, duh! You know what I mean!).

We're bombarded with reminders everyday, every minute about having to be the best. You're either number one or you're a zero. Ambition and drive and excellence, these are the things that matter, that make you a person worthy of praise. Even our fairy tales have taken on weird angles to suit the Independent Woman culture of today. Little Red Riding Hood wasn't rescued by the Woodsman, she killed the Wolf herself with her kung-fu skills. We think that we have a choice between being the Princess or the Anti-Princess, but really, aren't we pressured enough to be the ANTI that it almost seems as if there's no other choice?

Why change the stories? Why discourage fairy tales? Because we've grown suspicious of happily ever after, we're teaching little girls that there's no such thing. What's wrong with believing that a handsome man will care for you and rescue you in your time of need? What's wrong with believing that a kiss can be so amazing that it can wake you up to a whole new world? What's wrong with wishing that a Fairy Godmother could make your dreams come true? What's wrong with believing in a little magic?

We've been so jaded by history that we think we're doing the new breed of little girls a favor by replacing dreams with ambition. That a girl's duty is be a PERSON, not JUST a woman.

When a woman with incredible achievements gets interviewed, she's always asked the question, "What's your greatest achievement" and her answer is always the same: "My children." Don't we all gag and throw up a little in our mouths? When a SINGLE woman with achievements is interviewed and she's asked the love life question, her answer is "I don't have time for all that". Don't we nod our heads in agreement and give her a mental pat on the back for a job well done?

"Fairy tales aren't real" is the cliche of the era. And as I said earlier, I know nothing else but being an ANTI-PRINCESS. But sometimes I wish I could honestly believe in Fairy Tales.

My dad's off to the Maldives in a few days. He'll be living on the flat atolls for the next six months, at least.

I thought I had a lot to say about this, but apparently I don't.

THE AFTERMATH

How attached are you to your things?

Two weeks ago, when I arrived back home from spending three weeks in Singapore, I went straight to my room, my sanctuary. My room is normally a mess, with clothes strewn all over the place and books and papers littered. But it's my room, my mess. It's the way I like it. But as I entered my room I felt an eerie tingle, knowing that something was wrong but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Flash! My feather down comforter was gone. Flash! I was missing my two favorite pillows. Flash! My blue murano plate that I saved up for and bought in Venice was missing. And my BOSE speakers no where to be found. Calm down, I told myself. I'd barely been home for five minutes. I was tired and lacking sleep. I still had some time before having to meet Trish. So I prepared to take an afternoon nap, and the way I do my afternoon naps is by turning on the tv, playing a dvd of some light Sitcom and laying in my dark, cold room. Only thing is, my TV won't work and my DVD player isn't in its normal place but on the freaking bed. What the fuck is going on! I blow my top and find out that my comforter has been HAND WASHED because it was peed on (don't ask!), my blue plate broken since it was used as an ashtray in the bathroom, my tv broken and my speakers in someone else's room. The people responsible have not apologized, nor have they even acknowledged that they did anything wrong. I felt violated and disrespected.

But just as I started to come to terms with what happened in my room, the ceiling in my office collapses and drenches my most prized possessions: 27 years of journals, photographs, negatives, Data CD's, scrapbooks, keepsakes and books I've collected over the years. Everything I own fits into two tiny rooms. And most of it gone. Pages are stuck together, papers yellowing, boxes ruined from water logging, glass shattered and wood covered in ooze from God knows what.

How attached am I to these things? Well, they're worth nothing in terms of currency, but I kept them all. Every letter received, every moment, even mundane, caught on film, books read and spent my father's hard earned money on, gifts received. I have a ceramic sun and moon mask that I bought in Venice. It's been spared from the storm in my office. It sits on the beam behind what used to be a gorgeous dark wood desk, now scratched up and stained. It hangs smiling over a truly depressing, dank and smelly box of filth. That's what almost 3 decades of memories have been amounted to.

They're just things, right? But are they really JUST things? I have a very weird memory. I can remember minute details like, what I or someone was wearing on a certain day, but big things, like what was said, what was done, those things I need triggers for. And now I find I'm left without anymore ammo.

What normal, happy people don't know is that, for the rest of us, some days you just feel like everything is about to crash around you. Depression never goes away. It just lays latent like a tumor. So patient and calm as it waits for you to notice it. Then once you even give a bit of attention, it rears its ugly head.

Some days, you just know that there are worse things than dying.

Congrats to four people who tied the knot. Not all four to each other.

My Bradah and my new Sistah D, who got married the second time around (to each other) last December
and my manong King and Gert who got married last Feb 8.

_________________

Next is Pia and Q in May and Dawa and Jay in September.

I finally got to watch JUNO after the mishap with the faulty DVD player in Matuod. I'm loving the movie to bits. Diablo Cody is a genius, I can't wait to see more of her writing on the big screen. I've been limiting myself to Blockbuster movies as of late (Cloverfield was sick, in a good way, 27 Dresses was cute and although I liked it, I expected more from Bucket List) mostly because I really don't have the energy at the moment to immerse myself in a film as I like to do, so Juno was like watching Maria Callas perform in a Venetian opera house after watching Britney Spears in a strip club.

Not since "Saved" have I seen an actual FILM for the thinking teenager (no, I am not calling myself a teenager.) And Juno was not just a movie, it was a FILM. Anything that gets made with less than 10 million dollars and is THAT good deserves to be called a film. I learned that from watching Entourage.

The chemistry between Ellen Page and Jason Bateman was electric. I was almost rooting for them to get together. Yes, I am sick. And I have always loved Allison Janney since seeing her in The Ice Storm (another excellent film, a bit on the heavy side though). I have to say though, I'm not really fond of Michael Cena, except when watching him alongside Bateman in Arrested Development. I always thought that he played the same character in everything he did, but I'm really loving the subtlety he brings to the film.

The soundtrack. Always an important thing for me. Sometimes I can love a movie, knowing that deep down I really hate it, but the soundtrack is just good. Juno's soundtrack is phenomenal. It's subtle, just like everything else about the film. It's just there in the background, you don't even realize that you're listening to it til the song stops and you start to miss it. "All The Young Dudes" is my favorite song of the moment. 

I can't stop gushing about this film. The art used in it was fabulous too. I especially like the art on the walls in Juno's room and the OBB. It left me with a funny nostalgic feeling. I don't know about the rest of you, but I felt like I've seen the movie before. It's like a combination of "Almost Famous" and "The Royal Tenenbaums" and "Weeds". Strange. But wonderful.

Definitely a must see. Over and over again.

Lolo Pari...we all know you're resting in peace. That's a given. Is there music in heaven? Are they playing your songs?

We miss you. We don't know what to do without you. But we'll keep going.



This was taken the last time we saw you smiling. I'll always remember you like this.

My biggest pet-peeve: S-es where they shouldn't be.

Case in point: FOOTAGE-s
STUFF-s
TRASH-es

ok, so the last one is an -es, but still, you get my point. Come on, people! The words are already plural! NO NEED FOR THE DAMN S!!!!

And one more thing that pisses me off? People don't know the difference between YOU'RE and YOUR! As Ross said on an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (Yes, that's how the show is spelled, smart asses!) "YOU'RE means YOU ARE, YOUR just means YOUR!"