Don't you know you might find a better place to play?

When all the world was a post-it and everything had a deadline, this kept me sane.

Manila, the second act/Getting through the curtain

I was supposed to have had written this post last week. But whatever. I was a wreck when I left for Manila and still was when I came back to Zamboanga a week later. February was an extremely hectic month, with deadlines, rotating power interruptions and fickle-minded bosses adding to the stress of organizing a global launching event.

We arrived in Manila on a Sunday, which is quite lovely since I get OT points travelling on weekends. And that's about the only lovely thing I can remember. Everything went downhill from there. We left a bag full of money, checks and contracts in Zamboanga Airport's departure lounge. The office was closed for fumigation and fogging. We couldn't stay there because, yes, you will die when you stay behind a fogging. The chain holding the ceremonial agong broke. I got stuck inside one of Solair's tiny bathrooms and had to destroy public property to call for help.

Hell starts here.

These series of events did not sit well with my already stretched-out nerves. But as Ms. Cuchie philosophically enthused, better to get all the bad luck out of the system now than later. And that it did. Our launch event was a success. I was tired, hungry and battered beyond functionality but I was happy, more so when my boss congratulated me for a job well done.

Things definitely started to pick up after our event. For one, I could eat again! I stuffed myself with desserts from the breakfast buffet - parfait, chocolate cake, mango crepe, ice cream. Deciding that I had to affirm my dreams of going to Japan, I dared the sushi buffet and ate my first sushi and raw salmon.

RAW.

The hotel we were staying in was pretty posh, situated right smack in busy Makati and just in front of Greenbelt 3. Not exactly shopping central for a pauper like myself. The whole place reeked of eye-candy and, for some reason, smelled of soap. I saw my fair share of stars, Greenbelt being the high-end place that it was: Heart Evangelista, Marc Nelson and Nonito Donaire. Of the three, I was most tempted to approach Donaire, but I couldn't muster the bravado. /wrist

I managed to find an SM, but it was a disappointment. No Comic Alley there. I found Power Books in Glorietta, taking care of my reading needs, but for the first time ever, no anime. Sad, sad day.

Glorietta at night.

I had finally accepted the fact that I was going to spend my last day in Makati alone, when my friend, Penny, managed to drop by despite her busy schedule at work. We made our way to Greenbelt's cinema and did the one thing I was absolutely itching to do, pestering all my classmates in the process - watch Alice in Wonderland. In its full 3D glory. Another giddy moment for me.

300 smackeroos. And worth every penny.

And just like that, everything was over and I had to go back home - not as flashy as Makati, but home nonetheless.

Anyhow, I'm all but blank this week. I've expended so much neurons and dopamine last February that until now, I still can't get my act together. Out of whack until the next trip comes along.

Pretty hotel lamp deserves a photo, yes?

All in but the kitchen sink

Packing is a lot like health insurance leads. It’s personal, customized to individual needs, certainly not a one-size-fits all thing. It’s like a discipline, packing. You get better with practice.

In all honesty, I’d draw flake for my packing skills, or lack thereof. While it’s relatively easy for some people to pack their things in an hour or less, it takes me weeks and weeks of notes and pre-plan planning to get my packing in order. Last-minute packing gets on my nerves and I snap at everyone for every little thing – for not making me dinner, for misplacing my stuff and for being annoyingly cheerful.

This week, I’ll be in Manila for one week. With everything so topsy-turvy and hectic, I barely had time to pack, with the end result of having my mom drone on endlessly about the importance of not procrastinating. But take note. I did NOT procrastinate. Endless office OTs and rotating blackouts stole my time away.

Being on the slightly heftier side of things does not help either. From my meager experience in traveling, I had to carefully plan out my clothes, making sure that they weren't too short or too tight. Unlike petite ladies. They can use anything and they'd still look adorable. Dressing rehearsals are a must in my packing agenda. I’d prefer shirts and jeans anytime, but when you have bosses and jobs, you do what you have to do, though you don’t necessarily want it.

It’s a miracle that I managed to pack all of my things for this week in one trolley. Everything’s neat, light and budgeted. I’ve even got some extra space. Either means I’m getting good at this packing thing or I left something at home. Let’s hope I did not, yes?

It’s going to be a busy week. Looking forward to getting through deadlines, going shopping, seeing Zamboanga again and finally claiming in those OT credits for a week-long vacation.

It’s one, two, three, and suddenly, I see it at a glance

During our trip back to Zamboanga from Dakak last year, my boss casually asked me if I cooked. A tricky question, that. If cooking means pancit canton, noodles and fried fish, then yes, I can cook. But if you mean cooking like mix, seasoning, flavors and spices, then that’s another story.

My boss, upon learning my specialty of fried fish, insisted that I learn how to cook.

So, now I’ve got my aunt teaching me simple recipes for desserts. On my boss’ suggestion, I’m learning how to prepare the fairly simple mango float. According to my aunt, I still need to perfect my pouring skills (I poured more cream on the table rather than on the bowl I was aiming for). But she’s promised to teach me more desserts next week. We’ll be starting with the easy stuff, nothing hard. It’ll have lots of cream, sugar and overnight freezing.

I think it’s about time that I learned to cook. And let posterity note that it’s got nothing to do with that bull that the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. This one is for me.

I’ve always depended on others to prepare my meals. I’m dependent on fast food chains, instant noodles and junk foods for sustenance. To finally be able to prepare a dish would mean that I am learning the art of decisions. In cooking, it’s the conscious decision of waking up, looking at the fridge, getting the ingredients, mixing it up and serving it with a flourish. It’s really a quite selfless act, to cook for the family for a change instead of waiting for the food to be served.

And isn’t being able to make decisions, no matter how small, the mark of an adult? I’m growing up and getting ready to become an independent individual, no matter how late I already am on that department.

Despite being a total noodlehead in the culinary arts, I do make a mean sinigang. It’s my mom’s favorite dish, and I learned how to cook it when she came down with vertigo when I was in high school. My cousin finished 3 platefuls of my sinigang today, and there's not a single dollop left for tomorrow.

The secret to a great sinigang? Tomatoes. Lots of tomatoes. As in life, give and take generous helpings of anything and everything, and you've got it in the bag.

So I’m learning to cook. Who would have thunk it?

In search of glory and honor, we walk in the garden of his turbulence

Being a pessimist has its benefits – it keeps you on your toes, gives you that extra eye for details. Tomorrow at work, all hell breaks lose, with all the bosses present, and with barely a week left for preparations, before we leave for Manila for a major event.

Truth to tell, I’m catatonic with fright. I’m already steeling myself for a bloody week, where my nose will be rubbed raw from all the grinding I’m expecting to take. My apprehension is more on the fact that I can’t seem to pull myself together for work, no matter how much I try to psych myself out, no matter how many post-its I leave on my desk, no matter how long I stay on my workstation, compulsively opening and saving files.

It’s as if my system has gone into hibernation, to prepare myself from the physical backlash that awaits me in the coming days. While I wallow in the calm that is before the storm, I list, rune and muse the things that need to be done, things that I should be doing instead of wiling my time away on movies, online frivolity and general fluff. I’m trying to change, but I’m big on procrastination and cramming.

And I can’t relax unless I’m on the same wavelength of hectic-ness as everyone else. I’ve got a list of things to do, and unless I can scratch some of them out, I’m a ticking timer on a countdown to hysteria. I can’t relax if everyone is busy and I’m not. I’m a dog with a serious case of flea infestation if I finish a job earlier than everyone else because I tend to believe in the adage that if you found something easy to do, you probably did it wrong.

I wish I can just sleep and wake up to find my deadlines and tasks done and over with. I want to do without this pressure, the feeling of air being sucked out of a room, leaving you in a vacuum void of anything but woe and bleak horizons. But if that were the case, how am I supposed to splurge in Manila next week? Every cloud has a silver lining. Mine is National Bookstore and Comic Alley. Hurhur.

I’m trying not to think of what will happen tomorrow, the day after that, the week after February. After all, I can’t change anything. And as what I’ve learned in OT last Saturday, there’s nothing you can do unless people learn the courtesy of replying to emails prompt and early.

Tonight, I pray for the Lord to take this nagging feeling from me, and as the prayer goes, to give me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change. I ask for Him to ease my worries, to find joy and satisfaction in a thorough job done. I’ll ask for a good night sleep, for a sound mind and a fit body tomorrow.

I’ll run through the forest to bury the acorn and forget.

Where do you expect us to go when the bombs fall?

A month ago, a bomb exploded, followed by another, early in the morning in the city. Thankfully, there were no casualties and no injuries, except for a couple of park bouganvillas gone to flower heaven. The incident hardly caused a fuss among Zamboanguenos. It hardly made the evening news, too. Some didn’t even know what happened.

Which goes to show how used we Zamboanguenos are to this kind of life. The worst bombing incident in this city happened when I was in high school. Bombs exploded in the middle of the commercial district, killing dozens and injuring millions. When you live in such a volatile area, you get used to walking around with eyes in your back. As time goes by, you develop a kind of bravura exclusive only to those who live in no-man’s land – a polished, sort of nonchalance, a frightening normalcy in the midst of chaos.

When the latest bombing happened, everyone went to work as usual. No holiday was declared. Just another day in Zamboanga. Doesn’t mean we weren’t scared. When things like these happen, you get scared and you think of the future. You think of things – the what-ifs, that car you wanted to buy, the book you haven’t read, the health insurance leads you were thinking of following up, your dream job. A couple of my friends have even thought of moving to another city with a more secure peace and order situation.

Whatever happens, though, we go on. The things that happen in this city do not define the people who live in it. Sure, we get scared. But we do the best we can with what we have.

And we hope for a better day tomorrow, where bombs don't fall anymore.

Do a little dance, give a little love

I have to hand it to my friends, we are really making good on our collective promise to be more socially outgoing twentysomethings. Now that we’re more open-minded about drinking, partying and stuff, we find going out for a weekend get together real easy. Being gainfully employed and experiencing a latent surge of hormones due to the late emergence of puberty are certainly contributing factors too, but I think it’s the habit of splitting the tab expenses between ourselves that makes us so willing to go out and splurge.

Take for example this month’s get together. We went for pizza and coffee, thinking that we were all full anyways, when we were really not. We ended up ordering two platefuls of pizza. On our last two slices, we learned that DJ is going to make it. It took all my willpower to leave them two pizza slices alone. I’m a considerate friend, you see. I want DJ to have something to eat when he comes. And besides, one bite and we’ll be splitting the tab fiveways instead of four. Teehee.

Total damages for the week: P 91.00.

The relatively cheap expenses for food (once split) notwithstanding, the conversations we have are always the best part of these social activities, the part that I really look forward to. Tonight, me and Toni talked quite a lot about mangas and animes. It’s nice to know that somebody shares my interest for Ouran High School Host Club and Hajime no Ippo and who isn’t completely baffled when I say things like shonen, forbidden brotherly love and Fairy Tail.

We talk about anything. We talk about work and how we want to be richer than we already are. We reminisce quite a lot, too. Reminiscing is way more fun when you had a quirky life in high school with equally quirky teachers who take offense when you laugh while they’re talking about siopaos.

And we talk some more. Of our dreams, of how we want to go to the gym to further support our blossoming social lives, of going abroad, of serving the country, of finding that someone, of being happy, of being proud of how we, in our own little ways, are successful in our fields. We gossip like old women. We make plans to travel to Boracay, Baguio and Hong Kong Disneyland. We bicker over pizza slices.

And we drink beer! Technically, they chug the beerz. I sip, make a face and order a tall glass of water.

Once, I got curious. Everybody else was drinking beer and apparently enjoying it. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against beer. I just can’t see why people enjoy it so much when it’s so bitter.

It’s like this, so they say. When you drink beer, you lose your inhibitions.

And that’s a good thing, right? I ask.

Of course. When you spend a week holed up in your room studying for biochem exams and you’ve got only one day to blow off all that steam, drinking the beers and getting wasted is the only way to go.

Interesting, I think. Justifiable. And plausible.

However, I prefer to have my inhibitions up and running. I’m anal that way. Also, when I need to blow off steam, I watch TV. Or play basketball.

And I'm struck with the realization that I’ll never finish a bottle of beer, never get wasted, never be inebriated enough to wobble clumsily down streets in my life. I think I’m missing quite an experience, yes? Note to self: try to drink more than 4 teaspoons of beer next time. I have low alcohol tolerance, so maybe inebriation is only a couple of sips away.

It’s a nice thing to have conversations over pizza and beerz. I’m not complaining. So chug away, guys.

Winter 2010: Durarara!, Katanagatari

Finally, an anime season that is worth watching! The previous anime seasons had nothing that really interested me. Lots of titles in varying degrees of suckiness. This year's Winter anime line-up may not be as epic as the 2007 season. And it will never be as epic because 2007 had Gurren Lagann, and 2010 doesn't.

But there are one or two titles that look promising. Huzzah!

Durarara!

Thinking, breathing, being bad-ass.

I initially wanted to watch Durarara! because it was from the same guys who brought us Baccano!. But after watching 4 episodes, Durarara! has got what it takes to stand on its own.

Durarara! channels a lot of Baccano! goodness, which is good and has me all nostalgic again, and it's unfolding to be a great story. It has a huge cast, interesting characters, a fair amount of gore and supernatural and fast-paced action. One would likely get lost within the frenzy of activities in Durarara!, especially if you haven't watch Baccano! yet (which is, trust me, even more frenzied than Durarara!). It's important to note that the story proceeds in a non-linear structure. Think one major event, different viewpoints.

This has the potential to be absolutely kick-ass. Or it can spontaneously combust. But 4 episodes in and so far, it has been great. Now I have to wait another week or so before the next episode comes out.

Damn, I miss Baccano! so much. I wasn't able to save a copy of the series from my laptop from my previous job. Ach, dang it, I miss you Ferio!!!

Katanagatari

Kawai, neh? *blink, blink, blink*

Interesting premise, solid cast, simple animation and clean lines. I just finished the first episode over lunch. It has all the right stuff in the right places. I appreciate the quirky comedy too. I lolled quite a bit while chewing on a particularly hard piece of meat. Here's the OP credits.

Katanagatari will only air one, 50-minute episode each month (!). Not good news for someone who's already hook and interested to see how things turn out. However, since it'll take a month to produce each episode, I prolly can expect great stuff to come, since the studios will have more time to do things right. One thing I'd like to see more are fight scenes because them fight animation rocks.

For now, these 2 are the only titles that have piqued my interest. I'm planning to give Ookami Kakushi a whirl because I need something dark to tide me until the next season. Will also catch up on Fall 2009 titles, especially Kimi ni Todoke. I need the fluffy romance factor too, now that February is here.

Everyday is a faded sign I get a little bit closer to feeling fine

Last 2009, I got the chance to visit Dakak, not once but twice. My first trip, a team-building activity, had me all wide-eyed and giddy all over the place. I was giddy enough to wake up at 5 AM to take self-timed pictures of myself, for posterity's sake and for bragging purposes. On my second trip, a business plan workshop, I was more restrained and less giddy. I also went easy with the shutter button, preferring landscapes over me posing on some rock.

Sunsets are awesome.

Dakak is 8 hours from Zamboanga City by bus, and it's pretty isolated. To make sure you get there in one piece, eat and drink sparingly. Eating while traveling on torturous and winding roads is not recommended.

In Dakak, I preferred walking down the park's paths at nights, while everybody was either swimming, pigging out or watching the cultural show. Nothing beats solitary walks through abandoned pathways, listening to the silence and feeling the world disappear.

We also had the chance to pass by Dapitan, and visit the place where Jose Rizal first landed. According to Sir Ric, the old marker had more history to it.

Dapitan has its own theme park too! It's not anything like Enchanted Kingdom, but it's a great start. In my excitement, I ended up leaving my tickets with the front desk reception. Thankfully, we had extras.

Caution: Hot

I didn't go gaga over the beach, though. We have plenty of those here.

I've got my eyes only on you

And this time, I got my eyes on you Osamu Mukai. Oh yeah, the fangirl is back and she is rabid!

My concept of beauty has been blighted by my adolescent exposure to good-looking anime men. I remember a conversation that I had with my teacher back in high school:

Teacher: What do you look for in a man?
Me: (Pause). That’s a hard question.
Teacher: We’ll start with what you look for physically in man.
Me: As long as he looks like Rukawa, I’m good.

I wasn’t trying to be cheeky here. Rukawa was honestly the one guy that I wanted. I still want him, but I don’t think I can handle a relationship with a guy who is perpetually 15 years old. Anyway, Mukai here has some things which the objects of my previous fangirl rages did not have: He’s on the same level of 3D existence as me, a breathing, living and aging (!) person who I can actually meet – once I muster enough concentration and will to plan and save for a trip to Japan. He has a smile that makes you want to glomp him senseless.

He’s starred in a couple of interesting shows. He’s in Honey and Clover, where he plays Mayama. He plays Okura Sho in the ongoing Japanese series Atashinchi no Danshi, and he’ll play Yoshiyuki Taira in the movie adaptation of Beck: The Mongolian Chop Squad. After seeing him protray Mayama real well, I’m definitely going to check out Atashinchi and Beck.

Rabid, rabid, rabid.

I am the one who chose a summer that was unchanging

It's the second day that I have sat through 8 hours without doing any actual work. Never mind that I have a set of guidelines to complete or a newsletter to prepare. Having been at this kind of job for half a year now, my brain's configured to function best when the deadline monster is breathing down my neck. The only way, really, to get work done is to cut my ties with the intarnetz. But then, half my work is tied to the internet, so cutting it off is really rendering me next to useless.

This week, I'm interested to see how fast I can get through the 12, 1-hour episodes of the Japanese live-action adaptation of Honey and Clover.

The live-action cast and the anime cast. Both pastel-y.

I'm a fan of the anime version. Honey and Clover was the first anime series that I bought during my first trip to Manila back in college. My mom thought I was crazy for coming home with CDs instead of tshirts and donuts. Anyway, here's a link to a review of the anime version.

I knew that the anime had a live-action version of sorts (Japanese and Taiwanese adaptations and at least one movie) but it wasn't until I learned that Studio 23 will be airing the live-action version on February that I got interested. I think Studio 23 is going to air the Taiwanese version. I found the Japanese one online and I'm sticking with it for the meantime.

Usually, I'm everything but eager to see live-action adaptations of anime and manga. Think Meteor Garden for Hana Yori Dango and you get my drift. After all, live-action adaptations have a lot of things to consider: visual presentation (no super chibis here), budget, character likeness and plot accuracy. Most important? How to take a 26-episode anime and compress it into 12 episodes. Then there's measuring up to the anime/manga version. Online debates on which is better, and the comparison never ends. In live-action adaptations, many things can, and probably will, go wrong.

Thankfully, the Honey and Clover live-action adaptation is a good one. It does not follow the same story line as the anime, but it does capture its gist. Osamu Mukai is a dead ringer for Mayama sans the red hair and Hiroki Narimiya is impressive as Morita. Toma Ikuta, Riko Narumi and Natsuki Harada all do a great job as Takemoto, Hagumi and Ayumi. Natsuki Harada, especially, looks gorgeous while delivering high kicks. Wiki on the cast here.

On the other hand, I don't think Mayama was that mischevious in the anime. I don't remember Mayama ever teaming up with Morita to pull a prank of Takemoto, though when it does happen in the live-action, its really quite funny and fresh. So nothing majorly disastrous there for me.

Buffering the second episode now. Pretty slow, but I'm still trying to get the hang of these 1-hour dramas anyhow.

Have jacket, will go places

I live the simple life. I lounge around all day and only get up when my matey, a silly and clumsy girl I share an office table with, needs me. As long as I'm left to my own devices, I'm good.

Today, though, something happened. I was walking around the office with my matey, doing our usual errands, when we got called in by one of our supers. Lazy bum that I was, I tuned out of the conversation. After all, the girl I was with could handle the conversation baggage just fine.

Yada, yada, yada, Japan. Yada, yada, yada, 6 weeks. Yada, yada, yada, can I bring you with me. And more yada, yada, yada.

Wait, what?

At that point, everyone got excited. Above the ruckus that ensued, I mentally pieced the fragments of the conversation. "I'm going to Japan for six weeks. Can I bring her with me?"

Me. Getting invited to go to Japan for six weeks. In the winter season. Snow. Japan.

I waited for my mate's reaction. Though we've only been together for a couple of months, I knew that she had this great passion for anything Japanese. She reeks of Japan love. I mean, I spend my time in useful lassitude. She spends her time in front of a computer screen, sifting through anything that has a connection with Japan - anime, bento boxes, magazines, manga, sushi maker, tofu strains. She even sneaks a peek at those hentai stuff when she gets the chance. No wonder her computer is so slow these days. Probably some illicit virus found its way to her PC's drives or something.

Anyhow, I was surprised to see her so cool about it. She was even smiling and being helpful and all that. Prolly hiding all that disappointment inside. Beh.

The trip is not until next week, so we went back to our table. She was pretty silent. I wondered what was going through that weird little head of hers. Of course, she'd be thinking of all the Japan stuff she would be asking for as omiyage. Personally, I know she'd be wanting some of these stuff. I just hope she has enough hidden moolah to get them all.

Gurren Lagann's Viral figurine. Rawr.

Oodles, piles and columns of these...

...And even more oodles, piles and columns of these..

Something traditional like this kimono...

An inkstone would be nice too...

Still, it's not as if she's picky. I can bring back a stone and she would suck out all the Japan essence from the darned thing in no time.

Too bad, matey. You'd like it there, I know. I'm sure you'll go there someday and drool all you want. You may be the 'most promising' employee and all that, but this time, it's me they need there. It's winter, and everybody'll need a jacket or two. Don't worry, I'll give Japan your hellos.

Sincerely, your jacket

It goes on and on and on

The boss was out today, and I had the lullz at work. But still, it wasn’t enough to kick start my brain, rusty as it is from the holiday break. I reek and creak of rustiness. Rawr and a double rawr! So, shake it off and let’s get a-cracking.

I couldn’t complete any of the things I had set out to do today. Partly, it was rusty engines and partly this (the darned thing won't embed itself, boo).

I’ve heard of Glee before but never really paid attention to it. I figured I was too old for musicals and singing anyway. Which goes to show how much I know and that we’re never really too old for anything. Anyway, instead of doing work, I spent the afternoon hunting down online episodes. The ports of the office connection are all closed, it seems. I don’t know what that means, really. All I know is that it won’t allow me to torrent and it’s making my life just a tad bit difficult.

I’ve been meaning to write about the stuff that had happened since 2009 ended. For a self-confessed social retard, the year-end and the year-start were pretty hectic, what with friends and old classmates coming over for vacation, a last-minute office trip to Dakak, my grandfather’s 86th birthday and my aunt giving birth to my latest niece. With everything such a blur, I don’t think I gave my 2009 a proper send off. I don’t remember much of it, which is good because then I’d be nostalgic and depressed and it’s not really a great way of starting the new year.

2009 was the year I finished my stint as a volunteer nurse at the Zamboanga City Medical Center. In 3 months, I learned more than I did from the 4 years I spent in college. Volunteering gave me the confidence to admit that I was a competent nurse, and that I was a pretty darned good one at that. I gained back my confidence and realized that I did not need anybody to make a name for myself. I could do it on my own. I was working punishing hours, received no pay but I was blissfully happy. Now I know. I am meant for the medical profession, and I’d never be as happy elsewhere.

My three months ended and I needed another job. All hospitals in the city needed volunteers, but I wanted, needed, compensation too. Obviously, you can’t be a rich nurse in this country anymore. The family urged me to go abroad and I refused. I want to work here, on my own land, my own city. For God and country. It took me a while, but I finally understood it.

For two and a half months, I worked as a researcher for a military-affiliated agency, and I’ll always be grateful for the experience. I worked with nice people, met a fine mentor, mad friends and had the finest boss of all time. We only had a short time together, but I’m happy to have met such people. I want to make them proud of me, which is why I’m working really hard at my current job. I’m six months in and counting. I think I’ll be staying for six months more and then I’m probably off to another job. By that time, I hope I’d have the guts to go back to nursing and start a career. I’m 23 year old, undecided and career-less. Tch.

I’ve worked the hardest this year. I’ve also travelled the most. I went to Cebu, visited Pampanga and went to Manila and Dakak, twice. It’s an exercise which I hope I can continue this year, travelling. I encountered the dreaded pimple this year, after 22 pimple-less years.

I discovered that coffee hates me and I it. I discovered new anime and fell in love with old ones as well. I saw terrific sunsets. I saw the sun set behind great mountains, settle on drifting clouds and sink behind the calm waters of the ocean.

This year, I want to start things right. I will work harder. I will be of use. Go out more. Do crafts. Take up a new hobby. Write more, draw again. Save money and splurge! I will be better. I want to be awesome, but yeah, I’ll settle for better for now.

Goodbye, 2009. You were great.

Just because I can

I'm used to posting lengthy entries. So on the occasions that I can only post, say, a sentence, it makes me dang uncomfortable.

...

The effort in being human

This is why I’m not that into the whole household help concept. I’m a Chavacano and I’ve got pride inherited from the Spaniards, my cultural godfathers. This and a bunch of other factors, exaggerates the whole master-servant system to epic, soap opera-ish proportions. Centuries of tradition, acquired beliefs and prejudices are hard to break.

True, it’s nice have a cleaner and tidier home, have your meals cooked for you, have the dishes washed, the dogs fed…but if having a hired help in my house would bring out the worse of my attitudes and biases, then I’d rather live with the mess.

When nerds go out (or the I am out of practice post)

If I had a phone that would’ve allowed me to blog on the go, I would have done so. But since all I got is my trusty 1202, my 5th phone after losing my 7610 to thieves and my n70 to hardware complications, I had to make do with making hastily typed messages and saving them in the drafts folder. Needless to say, I’m reconstructing my experience from messages that have little coherence and lots of typos.

During one of our karaoke sessions, me and my friends came to the conclusion that we had absolutely no social lives whatsoever. With the exception of a few, none of my friends are really that into parties or socializing. Personally, I am a nerd, through and through. Parties make me feel weird. People make me insecure. I never learned to drink or to smoke because I never saw the logic behind it.

But thankfully, things and perspectives change, ours included. So, me and my fellow high school nerds decided to eventually become full-fledged party animals, beginning with monthly get together and dinners. This, we concluded, was a highly plausible plan: we were employed, we were bored, we had nothing better to do and we all wanted a social life. Badly.

Last Friday, we went out to eat, only this time, I was a wee bit too early and in the case of my friends, being early is never good. I should have known that something was wrong when my numerous texts of “Asan na kayo?” went unanswered.

I almost ended up proclaiming my pathetic-ness to the whole city of Zamboanga that night when I spent an hour alone at a particularly well-lighted table that only served too well to highlight the fact that I was alone and friendless.

It didn’t help that the restaurant messed up my orders. I got my dessert (a knickerbocker glory), my iced tea and my glass of water before I got my tuna sandwich. Heartless restaurant, making me go on a premature liquid diet. I slurped and slugged through my orders with the enthusiasm of a snail.

Finally, Sherillyn arrived and I did a little jig. She’s always good company. Barely a few minutes in, I have completely forgotten that I was supposed to give her the woe-is-me guilt trip.

Me: We should try our luck in England.
She: I don’t like Inland. We’d be better off in Woodland. (Inland and Woodland are local resorts in Zamboanga City)

DJ came a little later. He claims to have stopped by his house to freshen up a bit, but the overly fresh persona, plus the fact he looked and smelled better than me and She made me think otherwise.

Despite the fact that Sherillyn came only because she’s as desperate as me to get out of the house and DJ was only there because he felt really sorry that I got stood up by the people who said they would come but never came, I had fun. We could have ordered a feast if everyone came, but the Mongolian rice and buttered chicken wasn’t so bad either.

The experience, though, made us re-evaluate our invitation priorities. We would hereby limit our invitations to social gatherings to people who are the most desperate for companionship thus ensuring a decent turn-out rate.

Basically those people would be me, Sherillyn and DJ.

IDK is such an inadequate expression

I just really needed to get this off my chest. I can't think right now. I can't make a decision. Why is making a decision so hard? Or rather, why am I making this so hard for myself.

Dammit, woman. Wake up early, get yer ass to where it has to go, pay the effing fees and just get it over with.

Because deep inside you know, that someday, you'll regret not taking that risk.

So, here I go.

I dunno.

I. REALLY. DON'T. KNOW.

Last stock at size 35

Today, I was supposed to register for an exam, a part of a great plan to give my life a little nudge and direction. For the first time in years, I went back to the Ateneo and still felt like the outsider on campus. I went to the Center for Testing office, pretended to be more confident than I really was and found out that they ran out of registration forms and could I please just come back on Monday when they would probably have another batch of it. And oh, that the Php 500 was just my registration fee and the actual testing fee was actually Php 1,400.

I was pretty depressed when I left campus so I decided to wile my time away in town. I’m a certified couch potato, so I don’t usually roam the city streets. But my spirit was at such a low point that being home and watching the local Saturday noontime shows was not going to do my mood any good.

It didn’t take me long to explore the market goods and to realize what a commercial void Zamboanga City is. One block of stores and you’ve seen them all.

While I love Zamboanga City with all my heart, it depresses me to know that I have to import the stuff I want from other cities. Our one big mall does not have variety; all other department stores look and smell the same. We’ve got tons of small Asian-ish stores that sell second-hand apparel, factory-reject toys and trinkets. And in all those things I see the faces of the Boys over Flowers cast winking/pouting/brooding/making a cutesy peace sign at me. Not that I don’t appreciate the fact Filipinos are embracing our Asian neighbors, and in the process, our Asian heritage, for that matter. It’s just so Meteor Garden all over again.

On top of that, we have no decent bookstore to speak of at all. I deplore the non-existence of an SM in my city, the existence of which will automatically bring the National Bookstore in its wake. That, and a variety of novelty shops that will satisfy my anime and DVD vices.

The thing is, with such limited shopping choices and opportunities, people get boxed in with the conventional and we get boring and rusty and dumb and retarded. There’s nothing in our stores that would wake up a weary 23-year-old mind, like say, a good book, a creative nook to hang out in or a store that encourages expression and artistry with their wares. Stores are not just there to bring merchandise: they’re supposed to bring ideas, create a vibrant environment teeming with movement and chances.

I guess what I want to say is that stores, and for that matter, shopping, be it actual or plain window-shopping, should be fun. Today’s shopping experience was far from fun. It was really kind of dreary.

For some reason, holistically keeps popping in my head. Now that is a word positively drenched in Atenean philosophy. If I shop, I need to shop not just for food and clothes, but for things that will make me holistically whole.

So please, let’s see some progress here. I love this city too much to leave it for the greener pastures of Cebu and Manila. To our local officials, please do your thing and work, like you’re supposed to. We hope to see you working, not hanging around in city events, hoping to get a bit of free airtime on tv. Please, Chinese Chambers of Commerce, stop being such a pushover. Don’t be afraid to go out and tussle in a little healthy competition. Start wrasslin’ your way to profits in this great democratic market that we have. Before I lose my mind window-shopping my weekends away.

HSPDA, WCDMA and other whatnots

The first thing I did upon getting connected on my new Globe Tattoo was this: bombard my cousin with YM messages in various degrees of elation and euphoria. In other words, I spammed. Big time.

I am such a noob.

And I can't help myself. The last time I was connected to the internet from my home was in high school - the days of dial-ups, busy lines and double-your-hours-during-midnight internet prepaid cards. So, pardon the excessive zealousness.

Anyhow, I'm still at the stage where I pretty much don't care if I empty my internet prepaid account in one sitting. Besides, the first few session go's are an exercise in real estate: location, location, location.

A few things on connections via connectivity devices: For optimal connection speed, corners work best. I don't know what it is about corners, but for some reason, the network gods like it there. Also, pillows. Lotsa them. Think signal strength = PC altitude. The higher you are the better.

I can already see the possibilities. Plurk Nirvana. Kumby online. Mafia Wars promotion. Onemanga. Blog. Downloads.

Geekery at its finest.

I'm too giddy to think straight.

On being a 3rd and twenty years

Today, I turn 23 and it is such an ordinary day. In the passing seconds, I realize, I’m no longer part of the “younger generation”. I am becoming the “old” that I once wasn’t 24 hours ago.

While turning 18 is considered a milestone (at least, to girls), nobody ever told me that getting past your second decade in life was an even bigger deal, though in less epic proportions than the said overrated debut year.

It’s a bigger deal, because it is at this point in your young adult life that you realize that it’s not easy finding your place in society. It’s not easy, finding yourself in the middle of the road, with no way to go back and with no way to go forward. See, nobody left behind a map.

It is at this point that you realize that the people who told you said that you will be a successful somebody in the future played a cruel joke on you. When I was young, my mom told me that I would become a Ms. Universe one day, and that I would win all those great stuff and get to travel with my crown, sash and scepter. And with each passing Ms. Universe year, I waited for the time when I would turn into this tall, leggy and flawless blond with the bouncy walk and great smile. Adolescence came and I remained short, ordinary and as un-glamorous as I could possibly be. I got my pearly whites in college, when I got my braces, and I’ve been told that I walk like a dinosaur.

In my elementary school yearbook, I wrote that I was going to be a neurosurgeon when I grew up. If truth be told, I just wanted to impress everyone with my vocabulary. And as it is, I am not a neurosurgeon. I am not even in med school.

Instead, I am 3 and twenty years, single, a disappointment to some, gainfully employed and getting wider rather than taller. I have ceased to dream dreams because I realized that it hurts when they won’t come true.

On my 3rd and twentieth year, I realize a lot of things. I realize that my life ended after college. I realize that anybody can learn new maths. I realize that I could learn new maths. I realize that I wasted a lot of opportunities and friendships. I realize that I should have been a great many things.

But, it’s my birthday, and in my country, it’s a default reason for me to be happy. (Crosses out an entire paragraph of negative stuff).

Revised realizations:

So, I also realize that I am blessed to have a job that pays reasonably well. I am blessed because I have my weekends unlike my friends who are nurses and call center agents. I am happy because I get to work with a person who once taught me how to write.

I am happy because I finally got the Watchmen comic that I have been wanting for years. I am happy because despite my insecurities and failings as a person, I still have my family, my friends and my dog, and I am learning new maths.

I am happy because college taught me that I could pass my exams without cheating. I am happy because I am learning that it is not too late to do what I want to do in life (though at this time, I am not entirely sure what it is I want to do in life).

I am being too melodramatic. I just wanted to greet myself a happy birthday.

It tends to happen a lot when you grow older.