surfing with Surfista Travels

My mind is still a blur. So many things I want to talk about. But for now (thank goodness!) it's kinda settled on last weekend's events.

Finally got back into the water I was. And if coming up with 10 sentences about the supposed life of Ronnie 'Poks' Esquivel, the one-legged surf wonder of La Union using the clause connectors wenn, als and weil for my German assignment - cracking up those sentences while waiting in line for my ride and onboard the FX and the jeep to school two days after - and shoving up beautiful surf photos along with the sunset as my ideal bedroom view - coming up with as much respect for the beauty and that kind of life as my basic Italian could muster (yes m'dears, I cram a lot, unfortunately) - doesn't count as BEING STOKED, I don't know what is. Of course that would not be the entirety of it. I'd rather be riding waves until I could no longer stand up if only a beach was just in my backyard. No, what a weekend of surfing and being with people who love the beach and the surf did was inspire me to look up more stuff about it. And that's when I found some tributes to and a video of Poks. I've never known him nor seen him, but somehow, his zest for going on inspires you. It's just sad that he had to die so early. He's just two years older than me in fact. So all that exposure had to translate to something. Rather than make 10 sentences with different topics, I challenged myself by making all those 10 sentences tell a story about him. I managed. I hope my professor liked it, or at least appreciated the effort I put into it.

This was my fourth surfing trip and my second time in La Union. It seems there's a trend. First in Baler in January, then February in La Union, then back to Baler in May and finally November in La Union. If I could, I could've gone with the next trip to Baler. The next trip will probably have to be next year though, January I hope.

I was lucky to get a last minute slot to this La Union edition of Surfista Travels. I thought I won't be surfing this year for sure. Thank you to that person who gave up his/her slot. You made my weekend!

On email and on text, I can feel the warmth flowing from Surfista Travels owner and coordinator Elaine Abonal. I was actually amazed to find out that she only started Surfista Travels January this year. When we were in La Union in February, I saw an ad of Surfista in San Juan Resort's Surf Shop and I thought it's been existing for years. In fact, it has only been less than a month that she started operating. Amazing.

Elaine checking to see how we were doing  before our first surf lesson

After everyone's sleepiness had worn off and we've had time to warm up to each other a bit via a McDonald's breakfast and a memory game (great way to remember each of our companions!), we're ready to start our lessons. First surprise: sunscreens from VMV Hypoallergenics and rashguards from Hurley. Of course, I knew there'd be these freebies, but it's still exciting to actually receive them. Sehr kühl! Only the rashguards were just for our temporary use but hey, I finally got to wear a rashguard that had a great fit *big grin*.

Hurley rashguards and VMV's Armada

We checked out our rooms and the ladies' Family room was huge. It could house up to 12 people but there were only five of us. It was airconditioned and had two bathrooms as well. There was a TV set, but we didn't have time to check out what it had to offer. Who would, right, when you're in La Union and there are lots of interesting companions and the beach to occupy your attentions? And we had a terrace! It's really nice.

So surf's up. The waves were a bit small and CALM. That's fine by me. I'm having trouble with big waves. In fact, my first few tries on the board, I still couldn't manage to stand up. My instructor Michelle was still so very patient. And in between waves, we talked about life and surfing. She's my first female instructor. Luke finally (woke up?) came out and he was taking pictures of us. When I finally got to stand up, I almost ran into him on my board. Maybe that's why my first photo standing up in a board had that angle haha. He was also gracious enough to give me more pointers, like remembering to slide my left foot more forward, right where my arms were lying  (I'm regular-footed) and bending my knees for better balance. I didn't think I'd have this chance to talk to him, moreso him giving me pointers. It's so nice of him.

I had a number of rides then, one of them with me going all the way to the shore. There were also times when the board was turning and I couldn't control it. Hmm. The last time I did that in February, I was pretty conscious of my body doing it. This time, it was just the waves. It was still sweet being able to ride again. How I missed that feeling. Then the hour was up and before lunch, we've had an opportunity to take pictures with Luke himself.

We've had time to get to know each other, and enjoy the beach some, before our second afternoon session. First, we've got a theory lesson. Oh yeah, it's only with Surfista Travels that you can have these. Now I have a bit of an idea on what to call those waves and those breaks. Plus some surfing etiquette (I know Carla, sorry na sa drop in *smiles*) and more safety tips it wouldn't hurt to remember. And lotsa stickers! Thank you sponsors :)

stickers for Surfistas!

Unfortunately, Michelle was still teaching another student so I got Ronnie instead. First off, we jogged with Elaine leading us. 'Twas good, needed it to get the blood flowing. Then Luke himself led us in stretching. Then he told us to paddle out to where he was. This is it. Time to strain those arm muscles. The last time I paddled so hard was in May where all we did was paddle (no joke, little to no waves that time). Then when we  were all gathered, he told us to sit, then turn our boards around back to the shore (which I also did a lot of in May, haha) but it seems I still haven't gotten the hang of it. Then he told us to race to the shore or our instructors, whichever came first. Unfortunately for Miawesome and I, we were having trouble getting our boards forward so Luke kindly gave us a push to get us on our way. Now with regular instructors, you don't normally get these kinds of insights if you were a beginner. Surfista Travels is unique like this. You get a taste of the different aspects of surfing.

Ronnie was very helpful with my stance and my standing up (still can't pop up as Luke suggested) and still managed to ride a number of waves. Also found out what Hang Ten entails. Turns out there's even a Hang Five move. Wonder when I'll be able to do them too. Our hour ended soon enough, but not before I twisted something in my butt whereby I had to stretch and/or let it rest a bit, and then we had a chance to witness a magnificent sunset. I've never had many experiences seeing the sun go down, and this I think, is the biggest I've seen so far. Unfortunately, I didn't get to take a picture of it. It's really, really lovely. That's why sunsets in La Union are so special.

Elaine then shared to us what the folks at La Union used to do every Fridays. Everyone would be at the beach picking up trash. To give back for letting us experience surfing in San Juan, we did a cleanup as well. I know there are a lot of smokers but I was very surprised to find that most of the things I was picking up were cigarette butts, not plastics. Everyone oughta be more responsible, that includes the smokers. Put 'em away where they ought to be, that's in the trash bins. Loving the beach doesn't equate to leaving your trash lying around. Everyone should know better.

butts on the beach: these we picked up from just a square meter of sand o.O
photo from Surfista  Travels

We tried out a place across the road for dinner. Urbiztondo Grill was the name if my memory serves me correctly. It's a pretty big place and they've got a wide selection of items, although don't expect everything to be available. I was looking forward to inihaw na talong at maalat na itlog for dinner but sadly, the eggs were not available so I just went with laing. It was a pretty big serving of laing though so it would be good for sharing. We also had buko water, straight from the coconut itself. Then we gathered around for some games and kwentuhan afterward. We had a killer game introduced to us by cool Ghoul, unlike the killer game I knew where the killer had to blink at the person he wanted to kill. This time, there was a moderator and everytime someone was killed off, everyone would vote who they thought the killer was. It's a race to nail the killer or else everyone among the civilians dies. It was surprising to find out who the killers actually were, or who would single myself out as the killer. And I kind of had a hurrah moment when my hunch that Ghoul was the killer was correct. It was surprising to find out that Bam6 had this naughty (Vice Ganda-like) streak in him once he's a bit inebriated. Asha also had her physics notes with her for an upcoming exam, so I was equal ways disappointed and satisfied that I no longer remember/still remember some of the concepts. Ha, physics was so four years ago.

I awoke the next morning to hurting arms and thighs. And true enough to what everyone was saying the day before, indeed the wind has picked up and waves abound. In fact, a number of surfers were already lined up at the Point, where Elaine says the waves are very nice and which she sadly couldn't ride due to an ear infection (thus, I am reiterated with the fact that it's not so healthy to clean one's ears so often). There were also a lot of people on the beach, and probably a lot more students that we had to go in by batches because there weren't enough instructors to go around. Since a longboard (longer than the soft tops I used the previous day) was available, I decided to go with it, given the turbulence of the waves. I haven't had much success with this type of board (thus, my resolution to lose weight. Alas, pre-LU, I haven't had any chance to do so and so...) I'm not sure if it's just my weight or just getting the balance right - muscle memory and all that's needed to get me to stand up on it - but I realized later that I may have had better chance riding the waves had I chosen to go with the shorter soft top. Anyhow with Exson determined to make me ride, I persevered. Indeed, I had a hard time. Others around me were able to ride. Me needs a lot more practice. I finally managed one but it was a bit short-lived. Still, it was decent given the waves we were working with. Battered a lot we were. Ribs will definitely hurt the next day. It's part of the surfing experience after all. Then the hour was up. Oh! I couldn't bear not taking advantage of the situation. After all, I'm not sure when I'll be able to go back to the water. So I asked if we still had time. And I went in for another hour of surf lessons. The waves were bigger than ever. I've had many close shaves with the board, one of which was me feeling my leash graze my neck. I'm glad it didn't wrap itself around my neck and tumble me hard with the board. Probably lost my senses there as Exson told me I fell in front of the board. Not safe. First time that happened as well. And I was reciting mantras. That I'll ride a wave. And I was SURPRISED that I indeed rode the one that came immediately after I started reciting it. I was so amazed at the universe conspiring to let me achieve what I wanted to do. I waited for the whitewater to recede, hauled myself up, put my feet on the board and voila! I was riding. I was just amazed at the power of words. Unfortunately and surprisingly, the water hollowed out someways and I lost my balance. And that was my last ride for that day. Succeeding mantras hadn't worked. Eventually, my body succumbed to tiredness and I couldn't even haul myself up. At least I know I can actually ride a true board. I'm grateful that my instructor was patient and encouraging.

We had lunch and I was able to talk to the others and get to know them more. Found out about Nomad Manager Jen who is spearheading a site for Filipino cultural creatives promoting mindful living at Muni.ph. Then there's Xavier who's a freelance photographer and who collects film cameras. Completing the ten are Lea, Asha's older sister and also a returning Surfista, Roma who's an Elaine and Luke superfan (she got the merch before even joining any trip ^_^) and Mia and Lawin (both first timers). Hans was also there who after living in Surigao only got to experience surfing recently with Surfista Travels.

We received our certificates and after a few more pictures with Luke, Marj and Roger (*wink wink*), we finally got on our way back to Manila. But not before stopping by another McDo site in San Fernando for the traditional Surfista sundae.

That was a weekend full of great fun and stoke. Cheers to more STOKE in the new year!

ein Gedicht für dich

just because... Mesut in a Nutella ad,
if I'm not mistaken 

Waiting for the laundry to finish - and there it is, the beep before the last round. So I should be able to get to bed soon. (Lucky me, my VTO request was granted very early. Incessant coughing since last night and I dunno, weakened defenses maybe, have handed a very painful throat to me, which won't do at all in my line of work. Plus, the coughing. It's been a long time since I last got afflicted with one, and when I do, it usually only goes away months after I've contracted it. Bummer.)

Anyway, as I was saying before the very long digression, me has time. And an excess of some more daydreaming and word geekery. So I'm posting what was today's German assignment which was supposed to be about time. My classmate didn't say anything of the sort though, but with a wee bit stretching of the imagination, one can find it as still incorporating time. I've intended for it to be longer but the limit was only up to 12 lines. But yeah, I might one day strive to complete this. Inspired by recent events, its grammar is not topnotch, nor is the content. One can easily find shadows of the message in past posts. But anyway, this is me, the shamelessness sometimes outweighing good judgment. lol. This is my blog anyway. So if I want hell to break loose on here, then it shall.

And so, without further ado...

Heute nach einer sehr langen Weile
   hast du mich wieder beachtet.
Dein Lächeln hat Fröhlichkeit
   an meinem Miene beigebracht.
Deine Aufmerksamkeit erlaubte mich zu denken,
   dass es eine Hoffnung gibt
Für mich, für dich, für uns.
Bis ich finde jemanden neuen
   fortsetze ich zu traumen
Was war, was ist und was werde. 

*still having a hard time grasping German, but still I strive...

tales of the vending machine

coffee-scented stamp from Brazil /
photo from https://www.facebook.com/Nescafe

There was a girl who, when she discovered the 14-peso Cafe Mocha by the office's Nescafe Vending Machine, took to it like Bethany Hamilton to surfing or men to big boobs, sugar level at two (maximum is five). She loved to pair it with some discounted Triple Choco Boom from Country Style, available at the office building's ground floor two hours before closing. That was chocolate heaven, and the almost bitter, not-so-sweet Cafe Mocha complemented it well. There would be times when she needed some heat (the office AC was too cold) or some wake-me-up (she hadn't had enough sleep). Times like these, she was headed to the chill lounge at the other side of the office floor to have her brief fill of that delicious, hot, brown liquid. Then she'll be set for the rest of the shift.

There was a time when said girl had no coins with her, unable to foresee that she may need said delicious, hot, brown liquid before her lunch break. The machine was picky with the P20 bills (should be the old edition and then a bit worn), and well, she simply had none on her that time. So she borrowed coins from the teammate sitting beside her. Then when she finally got her money, decided to pay her. Said teammate refused; said she'll just get it when time came that she needed the money. So pocket the money the girl did.

Some days after, she was psyched up to drink a cup of said delicious, hot, brown liquid when teammate piped up, I need my money now. Of course, she had no choice but to fork over those coins - the only coins she had on her to be able to drink drink that brew at her upcoming break. So move the coffee drinking time she did to her lunch break.

Lunch break came and she was finally able to drink said sought-after brew after a trip back to her locker two floors up. While still savoring the rest of her free unpaid time, Kras Nummer drei came in and went straight to said vendo machine, by which she was seated. Said Kras inserted his P20 bill, machine promptly ate it up and coughed it out immediately. He looked to her and asked whether she had change. As it turns out, after buying various stuff for her lunch she did have. It was P1 shy of what he had though, but he said it was okay. So exchange money they did. And he got his brew, thanked her and went on his way back to the floor.

A few moments later, Kras Nummer eins came sauntering in. There were a few people by the vendo, still awaiting their own brew. Girl was looking straight ahead at the glass window to the scene in front of her, though they were only buildings. Kras Nummer eins, in his striped polo and semi-slacks, hadn't recognized her yet as her back was to him, but when he looked at the window as well, made eye contact with her and waved at her reflection; she waved back. No words exchanged. People finally vacated the vendo machine and he inserted his P20 bill, which machine promptly spat back out. It's not recorded who spoke first, but they exchanged comments about the vendo machine's caprice. She mentioned that the new edition bills weren't usually accepted; he said it usually has to be crumpled a bit first, with a bit of boasting in his part. So crumple his bill he did, to no avail. She remembered she still had another bill in her pocket, not the one Kras Nummer drei exchanged with her, and gave it to Kras Nummer eins. He apologized for the crumpled bill, took hers, and successfully had his brew. Flirting she was not, but enjoy the exchange she did, loudly replying to his thanks as he exited the lounge, while others she did not know were still inside the room.

And thus it was that the first vendo machine incident gave rise to this encounter with Kras Nummern eins und drei und sie war sehr glückich. Kras Nummer zwei she hadn't encountered at said vendo before. But she'll be fine with just having more encounters with Nummer eins at said vendo.


Note: originally started/thought about writing this am der 18. Oktober 2012.

beautiful Malèna's plight

Since my friend wasn't replying about the exact address of where we were supposed to go earlier this afternoon (net was down so I couldn't check), I had an impromptu movie day. Been watching Italian films lately. This time, I plopped down to Malèna. I first watched this film during my freshman year nine years ago at the then UP Film Center. It was unlike anything I've ever mostly seen at that time. Sure, I had the occasional trips to Video City, but then they consisted mostly of - aside from the mainstream ones - mostly Chinese films, classics, the critically-acclaimed ones which don't really sell in the box office, and an occasional wayward one like Thailand's The Beautiful Boxer. I'm not sure when my sensibilities for non-mainstream, critically-acclaimed foreign language films began, but it was probably around the time I saw this, and some other films in that same all-ratings-allowed cinema.

I had the impression then that this film had a high attendance especially among the hormonal male population of UP because of the high probability of seeing nudity and/or sex, like Y Tu Mamá También, the mention of which is almost often accompanied by a sort of dismissive 'yeah-it's-all-that' tone, or so I imagine. So watch I did, and indeed, it's true there was nothing that the UP Film Center wouldn't show, as my later viewing of Y Tu Mamá También proved (most graphic film I ever saw there). The newness of it all may have not left very distinct impressions on me. I never fully understood it then, except that here was a widow who was fancied by all, as well as this boy who was in love with her and kept tabs on her, until she finally became the whore everyone was proclaiming her to be at the beginning, and then they finally turned on her as a whore and traitor for playing with the German colonizers.

Now, I understand and empathize with Malèna Scordia better. Her beauty and body are legendary, as evidenced by the scores of men and women who would watch her as she walked the streets on one of her sojourns to her Dad's abode. She dressed differently, more beautifully than all the other women. The first time she was shown walking to her Dad's place, I marveled at the distance she covered, the fact that she's in heels and that she broke not one sweat. Talk about almost perfect haha. Do they not sweat in Italy when they walk through their coastal abodes, through the city, in the dress norm of years ago of full length dress or blouse and skirt, stockings and heels?

Her story is told through the eyes of Renato, who was finding out about her and becoming his own man as he grew up under Mussolini, and then later on, the German occupation of Italy, and their little island of Sicily. Unlike everyone who sees her as just some ass to fuck, Renato, despite his fantasies about her, feels genuinely for her - her loneliness, how the townspeople say bad things about her, everyone who used her body when she realized it was one of the tools she had to survive, her eventual departure after she was publicly tortured and defamed. It did not help Malèna's case that she was not from there, and not nine months after she was married, her husband had to be called away for the war. Then news of her husband's death came, and here she was a young widow, available for anyone who came calling. The talks about her became nastier and nastier as everyone's husband, boyfriend, father and son were entranced by her. Less than honorable men took advantage of her, one at a time. Then a change of government came, and she jumped into pleasuring men wholeheartedly. There was another local whore of course and less beautiful, but it was only Malèna who, when Sicily was liberated, bore the ire of the townswomen as they dragged her to the plaza by her hair, kicked, punched and stomped on her. Clothes ripped and bloodied, that was the only time she ever showed any emotion to the general public. Then she left her house and was never seen again, until her husband, who actually only lost one arm and was not dead, came back. It was the anonymously watching Renato who told Signor Scordia about everything that happened since he left. And one day, everyone was surprised by Signor and Signora Scordia walking together arm in arm back to their home. Later, the very same women who initiated the public defamation of Malèna were the first ones to greet her in the market, testing her.

Renato watching her as she makes this change in her life

Her plight is a very sad one. Only Renato knew how much she loved and longed for her husband while she was away. And because she was not from their town, she had no friends. Her beauty was the cause of much envy, and stories evolved into something malignant, that she had to face court, only to be betrayed by someone whom she thought reciprocated her feelings as well. She was having a hard time getting even food since it was wartime, and so had to resort to using her body. It saddens me that men and women see the woman's body as something to use for pleasure. If she was beautiful and her husband was away, for sure she's getting it on with some man. Oh, she only had to look and she'd seduce one's husband. During her father's funeral, the men lined up to express their condolence while taking the chance to touch her. Nobody had a clue to her thoughts and feelings. Weighed down by convention and the restrictions of that period, she couldn't make a living for herself, relying instead on her pension, which was eventually cut off. And then, that's when she accepted what she had to do to live.

It reminded me a bit about Easy A someways into the film. Both had heroines who were ostracized because of the illusion of their being sex symbols, and the stories that defined and destroyed their lives. Malèna had to conform to the traditional image so that she would be accepted by the community. It was only when she walked arm in arm with her husband did the townspeople form a different opinion of her. In the market later on, it was only then that someone, the very same person who hurt her, greeted her in public. When she responded, it seemed she passed a test. The vendors then started talking to her, offering their cheaper produce, one even giving her a coat she was looking at for free.

I'm glad I didn't have to live during those times. The vicious nature of women, the lack of open-mindedness, the need to know and gossip about everyone in your community - it would be so horrible once you're the object and you have no one to turn to. Even though Renato started following her as part of his fantasies, his resourcefulness to see more of her allowed him a glimpse into a private life no one knew, which shaped much of his sensibilities as he changed from a boy to a young man, though not without exasperating his parents, especially his dad.

I did feel strongly for Bellucci's character. Even though beauty can get you somehwere, it still is only skin-deep and can lead to one's downfall. I'm glad her husband still wanted her back after everything that happened.

missing Fußball and surf

Sem's just started and I have once again proclaimed that I play Fußball in my classes, when in reality, I hardly do. But I've psyched myself to get back to it sometime before this sem started. Like I did when last sem also started, wherein I managed to put in a couple of appearances at trainings, before disappearing forever. Since I keep on saying it, and still finding time to sometimes look up related news, local or foreign, before disappearing from the loop again, that would mean I actually really like the thing. And I do. It's just that with everything that's happening, it seems better to rest your mind and body at times, rather than push them all through the weekend, up until the next workday comes around.

So I've this renewed zest. I hope I can keep this up. I've had two long weekends because of leaves approved which I had filed before to do something I've missed. Well, nothing became of my original plan. And I haven't been near the water since then. Tsk. Why did I think I should be working on November 1st, eh? I should've filed a leave for it as well and join the surf and music fest up north. I should really move near the beach. And have abs like this girl who was photographed surfing San Juan.

photo from https://www.facebook.com/surfing.sanjuan

So now, I'm craving for all that water and whatnot. Hay...

Stupid, procrastinating me. :(

another weird dream

Dreamt that I was in Batangas, where I had days ago planned to be on the invitation of a friend, who however, was not in the dream, but his girlfriend and my friend was. Dreamt that my teammates in the office were with me and it's another teambuilding we're on. Dreamt that I was in another production style floor, a la my first FT related job. Dreamt about two former, or shall we say, semi-current crushes. Weird, the associations! Indeed, that's how my dreams are ever since I've started remembering them.

thoughts from the bedlam

So this is how it feels like to not have to set your phone's alarm clock, to hopefully wake up to, some four hours after you've lain down; to not have to absorb all those information, exercising your brain cells to comprehend the logic and rules of the thing three hours a day four days a week; to reread Dune leisurely without a care of what else you're supposed to be doing (except maybe answering all those letters and postcards) and be truly excited that you're finally reading again, this time for pure pleasure...

You have all these unbidden thoughts swirling in your head and one just leads right to the other...

One day, you're reveling in the fact that it was Stiles's Katarina Stratford character in one of your favorite movies that got you into this whole non-conformist semi-feminist mode you've been in since, well, probably the first time you saw that movie and that love is a bad boy but sweet character, and a non-conformist like you, a la Heath's Pat Verona, who will break your heart at first, but who will eventually find the error of his ways because, well, he realizes he does love you and that his world won't be right without you.

And no matter how much of a non-conformist and an independent gal you think you are, do you think the world sees just how shallow or deep you've gone? For that matter, does the world really care? What have you really done to further that aspect of yourself? You're proud of that self-proclaimed label, but is that how others really perceive you? You claim to know a lot of things, but really, all the things you know just skim the surface of the topic... shallow, isn't it?

You say you want to do this, you want to be that... but have you done anything to be one step closer to achieving those? It's been years since you've determined to set out for those things. Isn't it high time that you're seeing results now?

You've prided yourself all this time about how much information your brain has accumulated and could retrieve at any point in time, excelling in general information in quiz bee categories back in elementary. It's true: knowledge is power. However, have you done anything to capitalize on all that knowledge? Even now, when you know what things you like to focus on and how you seem to understand the inner workings of and the external influences that affect certain stuff, have you ever had any impetus to put all those to good use for your development as a person, or even as a careerwoman? Well, impetus, yes; follow up actions, no.

It's seemed that you've just been content to ride the tides, doing as little as possible to stay afloat but still exist a bit comfortably compared to many. Too comfortable in fact that, even though reality shows you that brains and some personality alone don't get a guy, but all the efforts you muster for your appearance and equal amounts wiliness, you remain resolute and somehow content to let this moment in time pass by.

Despite knowing all this, still you remain, non-girlfriend material girl (yes, you've finally realized and admitted it), a bit oblivious, a bit naive, a bit idealistic, a bit unchanging, and a bit hopeful, all in almost equal measure.

my Battalia Royale 3 experience

our access passes which I got at Moonleaf Maginhawa

BR3 bandana - comes with the
suvival kit

September has been a whopping month of plays for me. I've never watched or will watch (Phantom of the Opera in t minus 3.5 hours) so many theater performances in a month. After September 2nd's hilarious Potted Potter ('One must live and the other shall die' voiced by Dumbledore a number of times, much to the despair of Harry and the chagrin of the audience, is FTW!), I managed to find a last minute companion in my sister last night for Sipat Lawin Ensemble and friends' rerun of a loose adaptation of the Japanese novel and film of roughly the same name: Battalia Royale 3.

When I came home from work after my Thursday shift, I had even thought about rewatching the film, just to refresh myself on the details. Well, once BR3 started, I realized I didn't have to. Though many of the subplots in the film were included in the play, I find that (even though I was awed by the film), the play was so much better because everything's much more raw. I can see the conflicts going on in the characters' faces, hear the emotion in their voices, see the nuances of their body language. The details of the characters' lives are also much more real since they're set locally, and these kids' lives are akin to what modern day high school teens are doing. They even have facebook profiles to boot!

BR3 ID-style access badge

They also made out the most of the grounds of Museo Pambata by utilizing different areas, and it's the audience who have to move around to see what's happening. At the beginning, we were split into three groups, hence, different groups of people witnessed different things. Towards the end, anybody could choose whichever they wanted to watch. If you have friends with you, it's better to split up so that you can talk about what you saw afterwards and fill each other in on what happened to the other characters. My sister had to leave early and so I didn't have any eyes on the others as I stayed by Julius, June and Lakhi in the Third Man story arc. I was particularly hooked on them because the class vice president Jessica was leading one group and she seemed straightforward and righteous enough that I didn't doubt she'll lead her companions towards the path she deems right. Now Sebastian Kiriyama on the other hand was a type of person I don't really like when I watch - the spoiled, rich, user-friendly type who most often speaks English (what's happening to Filipino youngsters, really?) and has a band of girls with violent tendencies following him. I did like the nerdy guy from the film who tried to deactivate the collars that broadcasts their location and would automatically kill them if there was no winner. He was also the class president and you know there's something between him and the girl the moment she entered their lair. Plus he was so serious at the beginning, promising himself that he will do anything to survive. Since they weren't so popular at the beginning, I stayed to witness what the bouncers called "Poledance Massacre." It was not so much of a massacre since there were only the other two and there was no pole, but the song did stick to me. The Nemeses arc was also very popular as Kakai cunningly almost made it to the end, making a mortal enemy out of Victor, who easily became an audience favorite. Victor also had a major fight scene with cute but a bit deranged Kalil, as they were both skilled in martial arts. With smoke machines and a well-choreographed battle, well, what's not to like? And everybody knew who to root for right away. And guess who won? The most righteous of them all, who at the very beginning made a stand that they would not participate in the game by not fighting, by trying to get out of it alive. One just has to make that choice in that split-second or else die in the hands of someone who has decided to play the game and win.

BR3 rules - heed!

The whole time, the audience is aware that they are spectators in the game. We were even given the choice to stop or continue with the game. And the audience almost unanimously voted to have one of the students live, only for Fraser Salaman, their teacher to shoot him as soon as he was released.

It's a good thing it was not raining. Different performances have different scorers - I believe tonight Brigada will be the one providing the live score - so it's definitely worth it to watch again. I'd also wanna watch again if only to know how the others were snuffed. It would be interesting to find out the circumstances that caused the others to finally kill their classmates. Or how only the three survived for the final showdown at the end *wink wink*.

A different viewing experience as the audience ran around the place, witnessing the effects of the pressure of knowing only one of you has to live after eight hours, gore and skin - I bet there's a lot to interest every boy and girl out there. It's rated NC-17 though. So check the age and fitness or tiredness level of the person you're bringing hehe. Side note: did see Manix Abrera and Miro of Stonefree among us.

[Edit: 09.25.2012 | 5:50 AM]

Here is a picture of Alab. It's his card that was included with the survival kit I bought. The survival kit contained a flashlight, a map of the grounds, a glowstick (which I lost somewhere) and a bandana. I never did see Alab. I found out from the PR person's tweet that he's in fact good in disguise. Him and Sophia - who apparently is popular in class -  make me want to see it again. Well, besides finding out how the Lighthouse and Kiriyama famillies were decimated, Alab included. [end of edit]

And is it just me or did the performers look like they could really look like genuine high school students? Does this mean I'm old enough to get to the point that I could see them that way? Haha.

Either way, it's only until next weekend. So when you're not doing anything more important tonight, or next week on Friday, Saturdays and Sunday, go buy tickets!

Ika nga ng Nazareth...

Drawn by Sofia Falkenhem
for her friend's collection of
love/horror stories,
check out her other
drawings at
http://sofiafalkenhem.blogspot.com

Love hurts.

Written in an hour (as soon as my shift started) late in 2011, if I remember correctly, whereafter the demands of work i.e., call volume, have rendered me unable to continue the relation of events which can be seen as fundamental to the understanding of the initial outburst of emotion, the following started out as a rant and soon became an attempt to use the misfortune into something that, with hope, may prove, no matter how far-fetched the idea may be, to be a suitable first foray (like all the other ideas I've thrown into the typewritten page) into the world of romance writing.

Some parts have been re-worded or rewritten for better reading, and while the inconsistency in voice in the fourth paragraph can be immediately corrected, I chose to let that part remain unchanged to somehow highlight the strength of emotion I had while writing those lines.

Let the heartbreak begin...

***

Heto na naman siya. Nakatunganga, nakatigin sa kawalan. Hindi namamalayan ang paglipas ng oras. Or to put it more correctly, nakikita niya ang pagpalit ng oras mula alas-tres, alas-kwatro, alas-singko hanggang alas-sais na ng gabi pero hindi niya ito iniinda. Oo, nasasayang ang oras, pero hindi niya makuhang ibaling ang atensyon sa mga mas importanteng bagay - sa paksang kailangang aralin para sa pagsusulit bukas, sa paghahanda para sa bakaysong matagal na niyang inaasam-asam. Pero kahit para sa huli ay ni hindi man lang niyang makuhang maging excited.

Kasabay ng pag-eemo moment niya ngayon ay naka-loop ang tila theme song ng kanyang pag-eemo. 'Nasubukan mo na bang matulog nang bigo sa pag-ibig,' tanong ni Alicia Keys. Kasama ang mabigat na bagsak ng mga beats at ang madramang melodiya - perpekto ito para sa nararamdaman niya ngayon, na nararamdaman niya dati pa pero napagdesiyunan na niyang wag na 'to isipan pa muli; na ang pagsisimula ng bagong buhay ay ang pagkalimot sa isang pangit na karanasan.

Pero sa emosyon, madalas talo ka. Natuklasan niya ito sa ilang ulit nang pag-betray sa kanya ng mga emosyon kahit ano pa man ang sabihin ng kanyag utak. Kapag nagsimula nang mamuo ang mga punla ng depresyon, tuluy-tuloy na yan. Hindi na niya mapipigilan ang pulso ng damdamin. At kadalasan ngayon, simula ng mga pangyayaring ngayo'y gumugulo na naman sa kanya, ang kanyang pagkalungkot ay umiikot sa kawalan ng iniibig. Kung bakit ba naman kasi kinailangan pa niyang pumasok sa buhay niya nang ganun diba? Wala siyang ganitong problema dati, kasi nga nbsb nga naman. Wala ring nanliligaw. Kaya ayos lang, masaya ang buhay. Kapag na-depress ay sarili lang ang kailangang sisihin. Tungkol lang naman dati sa purpose niya sa buhay ang ikinadi-depress niya. Ngayon, iba nang anggulo. May iba nang dimensyon ang kanyang pagkalungkot. Pumapalibot na rin sa isa pang tao. Nakakainis lang. Sa ilang buwan nang nakalipas, di pa rin niya maiwaksi ang mga nangyari at ang mga damdaming itinago lang niya. Pathetic, iniisip niya, to pine over one guy when there are so many others around. Ano bang meron sa kanya?

it's just ... taking me over

I knew. The moment I saw that flash of black in my peripheral vision, I knew - like how I knew I'll be safe everytime I go home at ungodly hours. I was that sure. I had half a mind to turn to you just to ascertain as you walked past, but I stopped myself, because I already knew. And because... well, just because. So the first time we talked in weeks, the few times in which we do are nowadays limited to work, my mind was saying ha! that one sentence, that brief touch on your shoulder and the smell of his cologne, ha! you said you were done with him? now look who's talking.

I did say I was finally over with the whole brouhaha over you some posts ago, but those few seconds of attention directed at me, with the slightest of personal touches - all the non-interaction, almost-cold-shoulder brush-offs of weeks past are relegated to the smallest compartment in the back of my mind to hide it all away, allowing me to revel once more in the feelings you used to incite, and it seems, still continue to incite, with not much effort on your part.

Gaah...Who'd have thought you're as ingrained in me as my propensity to follow rules or procrastinate endlessly?  It was only when I got home that I realized its implications. In the old place where it all began, I could see you, albeit not full body and most times just the back of your head, and even with that limitation, there were telltale signs I've learned through the months for me to be sure it was you. Every passing head looking like yours - I'd lock in on that spot and I'd know as soon as I gaze at it whether it's you or not.  Now, there's not much opportunity for looking. And yet, you passing the aisle, or even through our bay with my back to you - am I really that conditioned and tuned in? Forget conditioned. How could I, without seeing, be certain?

Mind-boggling. Though I've long ago done away with all the thoughts that used to accompany you, this one encounter brought back the lovely feelings of the past. One-sided and self-propagated they may have been, they are the incentive by which I believe people pursue love, a feeling everyone is entitled to, that everyone deserves to experience at least once and that someday, I will also find one who will let me feel those permanently or if not, for a long, long time.

sunsets and nostalgia

Finally had the time to just sit by the Sunken Garden and do nothing yesterday - after coming in late to my Italian class and just generally disappointing myself all over again with the way I've been handling it, and then followed by a particularly entertaining "Was bin ich von Beruf?" (What am I as a Job?) game in our German class (Herr Lehrer was in his element as Quizmeister, even providing the needed sound effects woot!) where my teammates BJ, Jam and I came out tied for 2nd, this after being comfortably nestled on top for a while during the earlier part of the game.

I didn't want to stay at the shop where I used to work at and where I'm still welcome, since it's another air-conditioned environment with computers - which is where I am for forty-something hours a week, all the while dedicating some more hours to the laptop when I'm at home. So when I'm at the PC shop, I can't help but be drawn to the net-connected PC so I decided to just stay by the Sunken to do some review of notes and/or the finals I just received. I did start out by noticing the hurried way I answered my and then later on went over my answers to the exam. It was evident in the lack of needed verbs and misspelling a certain pronoun because I've confused it with another noun. And then I read through a list of Italian verbs that require certain prepositions. This still didn't help me with my predicament though. All the while, I was listening to Jam since it's Friday Slide (my favorite radio program) and learned that a woman has successfully ended her life in the LRT Line 1 EDSA Station. She is the 24th attemptee I believe and, I was surprised to find out, the 10th who successfully did. I was immediately reminded by the remade Wall Street where Shia LeBouf's mentor does exactly that - reading the papers in a cafe on a seemingly ordinary day and then setting off for the subway, meandering through the throng of people and stepping into the train's path as soon as he got there - when everything he worked for suddenly failed. This happened at 5:50 AM the other day. All I'm left is wonder at would drive someone to end her life in such a manner. Last snippet I heard from the radio is that she hasn't been identified yet.


The Sunken Garden was actually a bit to my right. I was sitting in one of the benches in front of PHAN  (Palma Hall Annex) so my view was actually that of the huge tree obstructing one's view of the Bulwagan ng Dangal, which was in front of (or depending on one's perspective, to the side of) the Main Library. And I just let myself look at that tree - some of its leaves on its left side, and some a bit more in front, illuminated by the fading sun. You know all the leaves are the same color, but with the vantage point and light direction you're given, it's like some of it is more alive, and some are duller. Joyce (who arrived a bit later on) was right in pointing out that it looked like a forest. I agreed, I've been thinking the same thing, like it was a tree in the forest in the Lord of the Rings. That's how majestic the whole scene came to me then. I wanted to take a picture of it, but I knew the gadget I use for a camera wouldn't capture the interplay of light and colors, so I just let myself gaze at it, somehow committing it to memory.

I just sat there all through the rest of the afternoon, until the sun finally faded and all I'm seeing is the dark green of the trees. And somehow, a sense of my younger years in the university was coming over me.


There was a time when I was still somehow fresh out of UP (as late as last year in fact) that the image that comes to my mind when I think back to my college days is of wide open verdant spaces. In all my years in and out of buildings, classrooms and laboratories, the impressions that seem to have stuck to me are the times I was out of my classes. And of these, the, let's say, memorable ones were those I spent under the hot sun, rainy skies and the newly-cut, though many times unkempt, grasses of the Sunken Garden, with people I somehow considered as family, doing the thing we all love, staying together until after everything's done with and coming together to do that three or four times a week. Yes, we did and we were all somehow addicted, coming and yearning for it all throughout those times when we had exams and what-nots which hindered us from going.

Yesterday, as the day wound down and people were jogging around the Oval (like what I had planned on doing), the impressions were a bit different. For one, it was only then that I was able to witness once again the turning of day into night. These days, I'm inside the four walls of the production floor when the sun finally gives way to the moon. The fact that I was in UP while I was witnessing this brought me back to my first undergrad days (yes m'dears, I'm on my so-called second undergrad/college days at the moment). At first, it seemed like the times back in my first year when I'd go to my then, only, org's tambayan after classes and we'd just sit and talk, and later on, we'd go somewhere to drink or watch gigs - cramming all of these in time for curfew (which I had for five years!). I guess it was about that as well, since when I get home, there's nothing to do since I wasn't overly friendly with my landlady's family, only had my space in the room, didn't have a computer at that time, and it was either I read, talk to my roommates or sleep. My college days were in fact, the only time that I've stayed out of my sleeping space long after the sun has set for in our house back home, I didn't grow up doing that. Even when I was in highschool, I was usually making my way home immediately when there were no org or practices or meetings that needed to be done when classes ended. And my stepping into UP gave me that one big dose of freedom. One helluva huge dose indeed. Then I realized later on that this whole feeling was also probably connected to the days spent in that space called the Sunken Garden, once my most favorite spot in the whole of UP. I've recounted what we used to do then; it may be connected to what I was feeling.

But before I could fully bring back the impressions from the past, I had to move. With that, the fleeting sense that it's about to reveal itself was gone. I could've held on to the feeling a bit more, and subsequently basked in its full memory, if I stayed still a bit longer, but somehow, everything is not in sync. So I'm writing this to commemorate that afternoon when I somehow went back to the nostalgic feeling of my youth.

+++

Joyce told me yesterday as well about Sir MonRa and RA Rivera's Tales from the Friend Zone project. Friend zone is a term I've been reading almost everywhere just recently. Is it because of this project and a few others like it? Anyhow, the second video was what I could relate to the most.

Takeaways which ring true:

- why one becomes expectant, i.e. bakit umaasa (girl's POV): girl may not be used to having kind, sweet and/or handsome boys who befriend her so that the first one who comes along and is just that, she starts to think there's something. So yes, as girls have observed, when he doesn't say anything, it's nothing. Don't overthink.

- lower one's expectations because as MonRa explains, that "0.0001 na pag-asa na yan, or otherwise known as malisya, ay nagiging germ at lumalaki nang lumalaki dahil sa imahinasyon natin at sa pagnanasa na maging tunay na pag-ibig yan..." WELL SAID.


So...

Happy -ber months! Potted Potter is on in a little while. Tschuß!

*Ambivalent, like.

Many hours before this morning, I was completely confident, sure in what I was about to embark on. There was none of the self-consciousness or self-doubt that have crept up as I allowed myself to think of other possibilities. Well, one's gotta react to the issue at hand. So that with a wee bit of disappointment, I've managed to screw my views once again.

Damaging, like. It's something you can't help thinking, especially when you're on the verge of giving yourself completely to another. You'd think the other was as willing as you are in accepting another person... and with a little of this and a little of that, you start thinking that that may well not be the case. Once again, you've read too much into your interactions, the other's actions, to satisfy the fantasy world you've built.

Or...

You may just simply be overthinking things again. Isn't it better to just give in to the moment? Live it while it's happening and stop anymore of this senseless analysis when you can't really get to the root of your conflict unless you confront the person yourself.

As I've written in my previous blog's sidebar:

Contemplation often makes life miserable. We should act more, think less and stop watching ourselves live. -- Nicolas de Chamfort

Too true, in my case. If only it was that easy.


*Inspired by Ewan McGregor and his crew in Trainspotting

here we go again

I believe that you can do whatever it is you want once you set your mind to it. All the disappointments and challenges in the world can be overcome by just thinking that they don't affect you much, that you'd still have a chance to remedy things; you don't have to pander on and on about how much of a waste your efforts were, or what you could've done with the time lost. No amount of sulking or sourgraping will change what happened. So the best thing would be to change how you think about it, move on and start doing what's needed. Indeed, being happy is all in the mind. And I have that written down in my profile.

I'm inclined to believe that I have the strength of mind to do this everytime I encounter something that's not up to my expectations. But I've come to realize lately that indeed, some things are far stronger than what I imagine them to be. Foremost among these is my emotions towards a certain... hmm, something.

It's the same pattern. Despite telling myself that I should stop imagining scenarios in my head, my brain just goes ahead and does it. I'd be thinking what to do next, and then soon enough, there'd be scenes playing in my head and it's on a roll and I'm in situations that are way too deep for me to actually expect them to happen. Or there'd be another development and immediately, my brain answers it with scenes up to a satisfactory ending. The thing with me fixating on this is that I expect... when I know I shouldn't be. Because the last time I did, I was disappointed big time. A heartbreak indeed. And it was a  while before I got over the whole thing. And while I was trying to get over the thing, I'd be in an emotional slide, high one time, then slowly slipping downwards until I'm rock bottom. And there are very few things in the world that could make me right again.

So I'm observing the same patterns again. I've tried to distance myself from the events, thinking that I can eventually master my emotions. And indeed I do, then I realize that going on with that line of thinking will end up with me no longer caring about what's happening. And it would be a sad thing. I'd be immune to whatever is happening, that I can no longer respond appropriately. It would be a shame if that were to happen. I wouldn't want that to happen.

So I try not to overthink, to overimagine events. But then, this thing that I'm expecting has been inexplicably tied to whatever pleasant emotions I'm feeling for the day, or for a certain stretch of time. Previously, it was only work that was causing me this emotional rollercoaster (just like last time), but now, another factor has added to it. And it's got a greater weight than work (again, like last time).

This is not good, because when I'm in the pits, I lose the drive to do anything at all. I'd be like this until I force myself to interact with other people hoping they could cheer me back up (which happens most of the time when I'm not too closed off to the world). But when I'm by myself again, I find that I have not recovered. I have simply put away the gloomy feelings for awhile before unlocking them again. Now is not a good time to be having those phases because besides working, I have school as well. I'm behind assignments. I realized the full brunt of being behind in my lessons yesterday and being helpless got me so scared. I don't want to waste the opportunity for studies I have right now.

I want to end this, like get to the bottom of this if I only knew the other's side. Walking this tightrope is a little frustrating because of what it does to my motivation towards other things. One moment I'm unsure, then I'd have a little hope with the help of a little positive imagination, only for me to squash it  some more with further analysis. Then I'd try to be neutral again to assuage the disappointment I'm having. Then I'd have some news and I'd be feeling light and a bit happy, like now. It's the down times that I hate because that translates to having little or no motivation for the other aspects of my life. And I'm sure I'd be going through this cycle again. I wouldn't want to stop at this right now, because who knows what might happen? I might find happiness, or at least something worth feeling all bonkers over when I weather this whole thing. And here I am being hopeful again...

I have to make the most of this chance because I've already missed out on this during my high school and college years. I no longer have the luxury of experiencing some innocent high school romance or even a simple college romance. Now as I'm older, things are more complicated because the world is bigger and the stakes are higher, and interests and priorities have changed.

I do believe that I can move on if this pans out to nothing. I wonder how long it'll take again though.

the in between days

It's been raining on and off for the past week. At times, it's just mild. And then later on, it'll shift into full strength with accompanying strong winds. Pants, shoes - everything becomes wet when you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. I hope this doesn't last until Friday, so as not to disrupt futsal practice. After last week's low strength and low moments, I don't wanna miss playing this week again.

...

After having no German last week, I'm glad we're back to regular programming this week. And the pressure is on again. We're gonna be doing some dialogues this afternoon. And a bit of newscasting next week. And here I am, reading anything but the news. I hope my partner and I can pull off the spontaneity our professor is looking for in our dialogs. I can understand the grammar, and can usually apply it while writing, but when you have to speak impromptu, you're just forced to let the ideas come out that the grammar gets left behind. My other problem is that when I'm answering questions during recitations, like when my prof is asking follow up questions, I am hardly able to string together a complete sentence, saying a noun, a preposition, some verb that may pass. But otherwise when I'm not answering in class, I believe I can say it completely and with sense. This is the part that is kinda frustrating. I should have been able to speak a bit by now. The thing is, I don't remember that many expressions or that many usage patterns nowadays. And with German verbs, they may have the same roots, but you just change the prefix a bit and the whole thing means something entirely different. This is what I still have to get my head around on, besides prepositions. I believe English language learners are also having difficulties regarding the correct prepositions to use. That is what I am experiencing as well in learning German.

...

I discovered this video of Razorback's Kevin Roy doing an acoustic version of Sinead O'Connor's Nothing Compares 2 U. It seems that the video comes from a performance series he does called Guilty Acoustic Pleasures, so-called probably because of the genres of the songs he's covering; Razorback's music is nowhere near those. Kevin Roy's got an amazing vocal range. And with the emotions he's projecting, I've come to realize the power of the song. Sinead's voice is soft, and probably a tad short of whiny. Absolutely in love with this performance (though the guitarist kinda spoils it with some of his comments).

And with the title alone... I wonder why I never remembered this song during those times.

...

Prior to discovering the previous video, my brother and I were laughing along to Basti Artadi's cover of Hot and Cold. He's with Razorback's Tirso Ripoll and the performance is part of their podcast called Tropical Banter, of which I haven't watched a full single episode. Anyhow, we were laughing really hard particularly to his cover of this song because he's managed to infuse his typical singing style. Like he was just singing Atomica and he was lengthening the vowels at the end of the last line of the verse or chorus.

They also have a cover of Call Me Maybe, with Basti rewriting the lyrics to suit his sensibilities - and what good it's done!

...

It's 5:25 AM and it's raining hard again... two panes of my window are already busted, that I had to put some plastic to prevent the onslaught of rain and wind on my bed and on my cabinet. In a few hours, it'll be a new schoolday and workday already - like I haven't just come from some 15 hours or so of the same, but yeah, that's my life right now... so I'll leave this be.

summat better and brighter,
TomatoAndCheese signing off from another kung-fu session ;D

colors and the Italian football clubs

Learning languages is such an eye-opener. Like last week, after we did an exercise on adjectives in my basic Italian class, it dawned on me that the nicknames for the Italian football clubs were so simple - they were based on the club's colors! Like Bianconeri are for Juventus' black (neri) and white (bianco) stripes. And AC Milan are called the Rossoneri because they're black and red (rossi). I realized this when I saw one of my teammates wearing the Italian national team's jersey with the words gli azzurri on the collar in training that aftenoon. So yes, it's an articoli determinativi check and now I know they are called like how the other national teams call themselves: the French are called Les Blues, the Spaniards are La Furia Roja, the Dutch are the Oranje and even my school UP are called the Fighting Maroons.

It used to be that when I'm reading Italian club football news, I get confused as to which team the article was  talking about because of all those nicknames. I did get a bit of a handle on them, but soon forgot them. Now, I know what they would be talking about as long as I know the team's jersey colors. Now, the next hurdle would be getting to know their home stadiums. They also like talking about San Siro (this is Juventus' home stadium, right?) and the others, like how iconic the Bernabeu and Camp Nou are in Spain and all over the world.

Calcio. Miss playing and watching it.

Yes we got AC Milan's rossoneri stripes but the ones in white and black are from Udinese Calcio

edit: 7/29/2012:

I'm wondering what celeste  means now. Is it something similar to skyblue? The Uruguayan and Argentinian national teams both have the words in their nicknames, one only known as Celeste while the other one is known as Albiceleste. To the Spanish-English dictionary then...

a most enlightening Friday with friends

Friday,
a prelude to better things to come - 
namely a weekend
of sport or adventure,
catching up with friends, 
eating out,
meeting new people, 
historical and photogrpahy delights - 
before plunging into another week of work and school.

So it was futsal Friday, and then it became Friuli Friday, so that in its entirety, it was friendship Friday.

It's been awhile since I hit the courts of Maginhawa with FC Sikad members, and the other day was a good time as any to make it into a regular habit. My accuracy in passing was off, I made defensive mistakes and didn't overlap enough to make the most of the attacks instigated by our talented midfielder Atet; but I wasn't as out of breath as I thought I'd be, and I've made some lucky saves when I was on goal. That's enough for now, after maybe a year of non-practice or any other physical activity that involves running. I did leave an hour earlier because I'm due to meet with friends. But I hope to see the guys and gals again next week.

I've been craving for pizza for a few days now, and had my first taste of it before I went to futsal practice. It was just a slice; and I've already agreed with Fati and Joyce that we're going to Friuli that day - Fati misses their pasta, and I've been craving for some pizza for a few days now and the price at Friuli never hurts even if you order both and more. There were only three of us and about five plates of food laid out on our wee table.

Pizza Marinara at Friuli Trattoria

Joyce had Spaghetti al Pesto and the Buono Verdure pizza (both for vegetarians) while between Fati and I, we shared a Marinara pizza, Spaghetti a la Puttanesca and ravioli. Suffice it to say that we were already quite filled up even when only half of the stuff was gone. Everything was a good choice, except maybe for the ravioli. This was also my second time trying out their Marinara, and it's still as good as ever. I love the combination of saltiness and sweetness - nothing overpowering the other. And at P195 for eight slices, it's a steal. I also like their pesto sauce better than most of the others I've tried in malls. True pesto sauce is made from olive oil, and I don't appreciate my pesto being too dry. It was over these that we've taken turns regaling tales about yes, the male species that are coloring our lives at the moment. It's a good thing they're open until 2 am. It has only been about two weeks since we last saw each other, and then there were all these things happening. It's a good thing we didn't need to hurry and we had all the time to finish our stories.


We were walking back to Philcoa to catch our respective rides home, when the conversation turned to stuff about relationships - which is more important, dedication or passion, and the like, and when Fati invited us to have a round or two of beer at Sarah's, we obliged. After all, we've never drunk together before, so in the spirit of spontaneity, we made a go at it. And I did remark earlier in the evening that kwentuhans become better with alcohol involved. That's what happened the last time I was at Sarah's. And I guess it works the other way around as well; kuwentuhan makes downing beer a lot easier. Or maybe it's because I've developed some tolerance for the bitter taste through the years (which is a bit improbable given that I've rarely had beer when I used to go out regularly with another trio of people).

I decided to try something new, and had the Super Dry with Fati. And we asked questions about ourselves, and what we want to have in our relationships (two of us are so-called NBSBs), and Joyce had inputs from a spiritual and communal mindset while Fati had inputs from an anthrological perspective. It was all so enlightening.

stripped the label off my bottle of Super Dry

It's a good thing when you realize certain things about yourself during the course of the conversations. I did bring up my dream lifestyle in a previous post. I'll be living with my little one in a house by the surf. And I just realized and/or proclaimed with finality on the13th of a July Friday night that my ultimate dream is becoming a mom. Since that post, I've had this image in my mind of me holding a toddler looking out our window to the sea. It's something that I'm sure of, but I never really knew where it came from. It started out as a concept. And it evolved into that image. And that's my ultimate dream, because by then, I'm thinking I've done all the other things I want to do.

And so with some more banter (i.e. them telling me that a guy (married and with a kid at that) doesn't text you from afternoon till midnight for nothing) and other revelations over a second bottle and Joyce's first, we ended the Friday night knowing more about each other. Just like the last time, we were one of the last ones to leave - the caretakers have already cleaned up the other tables. 

Joyce's light and my first time trying out the 'Tatay Beer' with Fati

It's a good thing I have these two ladies to have these kinds of talks with. I just realized now where Joyce got the name Ladies' Talk which is what she calls our regular meetups. 

I do hope to make some advances on the relationship front, if I may be so bold to declare. 

But what counts more is having these ladies to share stories with until we grow old and have achieved what we set out to do. 

last day of June

It's the last day of the first month of my being an official student once again, and I have only one post to show for it (this!). It's been awhile since I last wrote, although I've had many ideas coming and going in between days - I even have two semi-written pieces sitting on my drafts right now, but I never did get around to finishing them. Nothing to show also in my handwritten diary, and even my planner is barely written on (which often acts as a record of things that have happened instead of things that are supposed to happen).

I'm enjoying the internet during the wee hours of Saturday morning because finally, it's a weekend, it's two days' break both from work and school and I'm not jaunting elsewhere this early (which I did last weekend and the weekend before last which were fun, but I never did get around to writing about them, though I had planned on it).

So many things going on and which I've wanted to share, or at least keep a record of. Like the changes at the office and hmm... towards whom my attention has been riveted for the past weeks now (and may I just say that these past three specimens I've liked come from the same sort of complication that I wouldn't want to be in if I could help it);  the sights and sounds along Aurora Boulevard in Cubao at 3 AM; getting home and then eating or reading one moment then the next, finding myself groggy with the sun already up and I wouldn't know when I transitioned from being awake to sleeping and everything is just a matter of four hours;  scuba diving one weekend and still not getting the knack of mask clearing and equalizing - going back to Anilao for the first time in eight years and sleeping under the stars, then two weekends after finally getting to see the Hundred Islands in daylight and enjoying it and who says you can't enjoy the beach in June; despedidas and New York;  meeting new and younger people in class once again (one who graduated from the same high school I did and is part of my old org) and saying hello to old friends from German class and yes, finally having a definite direction as a European Language student (after the second try) and all the other choices and non-choices that came along with that decision;  pleasantly finding out all about our language major professor;  Germany fumbling again in the last four of a major tournament (why, oh why?);  hurdling the first major thing that is the Italian articles (why do you need four? why?).

A lot. Somehow, I've managed to outline them but time won't be enough to talk about them. I have other ideas as well and tasks to do. Weekends aren't enough I know. But oh well, cheers! This is life. I chose this. I wouldn't have it any other way right now, but if I can, I'd like to be able to add a few more things... just a few like futbol/futsal, fitness training, and more time to write - letters, postcards, diary entries and this blog while planning and saving up for Brazil 2014 :)

As the Italians say, ce la fai!

Everything in the name of all things wonderful...

An image from the abandoned resort beside Scubabro, where I experienced the underwater again after some oh, 8 years

on ... love

From the description of a self-portrait of one of my workmates:

If you find yourself in love with a person who does not love you, be gentle with yourself. There is nothing wrong with you. 

Love just didn't choose to rest in the other person's heart. 

True.

+ + +

And a little over one year after the incident, it's finally over. One day, I thought about my feelings (after one particularly scary view into my emotions - scary because of how intense it was but without the rationale to back it) and questioned my motives. And then I realized I've seen the last of writing lovelorn entries... at least about the particular person who occupied my mind for some months.

That quote was a good way of looking at that one year.

Now, I am looking forward to the time when I can say something like this lovely anecdote from Antoinette Jadaone:

“I used to think I love you more than I loved him, but now I’m not so sure,” I said, then he said, “Why?”, then I said, “The way I love you now, I don’t think I loved him at all.”

<3

a surfer lifestyle

I long for this. Eventually, I'd like to live with something as basic as these two:

I'd be living by the coast, only a bike to get me to places. When there's no surf, I'd be at home writing, reading, playing with my kid, building up my collection of photos and memories, cooking and/or baking, listening to and playing with music, running in the mornings, an occasional game of (beach) football, spending afternoons in my garden, under the trees, occasionally hanging out with friends. Work consists of writing or translation work all done from the home.

I've got the surfer's bug alright. Have I said that surfing is one of the most sublime things in the world? I've dreamt of it for so long and am only now taking baby steps towards making the dream a reality. And until now, there's nothing more I would wish than what I have just written above. Isn't it wonderful that the greatest joy in life is just that, doing something so sublime in the simplest of ways?

kids with the pumped up kicks...

Finally had a clue to this song's title last week. Though I heard it wrongly, I still managed to find it... weee!

The first time I heard this, I loved it mainly because of the beat. So with what itty bitty clue that I had, I scoured the net (without much difficulty) and voila!

I am loving this live performance - besides sounding like the studio version, the pirate style trance beat they did before they ended the song was awesome. Love the energy, makes me wanna dance too.

/ All the other kids with the pumped up kicks / you better run better run outrun my gun / all the other kids with the pumped up kicks / you better run better run faster than my bullet / (repeat)

 

Code Red at Teahupoo = Fantabulous Surf

This is scary... but it's the stuff of my dreams :D

source: http://www.theinertia.com/surf/code-red-teahupoo/




And out of the blue, one surfer friend invites us all to go surf this weekend in Baler where we met, and just like that, I'm gonna experience it again. I hope there are waves, and this time, friendlier than last time. Surf's up!


For more inspiration (mine mostly), I'm sharing this photo by Moonshine and Saltwater who's based in La Union but shoots wherever there's surf:

Another pic by M&S. We were staying at Lola Nanny's resort last February, but I've not been to this vantage point. This capture is just awwwesome!

view of LU sunset from Lola Nanny's

of requests and remembrances

You approach me with a twinkle in your eye, smile on the ready. First time in a while you've talked to me. Lately, it's just been 'What's up?' or an eyebrow raise (or eyebrow raises) when we happen to pass each other or when I happen to be looking while you're passing through. Tough luck. We can't just go on doing that everytime you pass through and I see you because you are such a life of the party that you would be doing that ten or more times within an 8-hour duration.

Much as I'd like to strike up a conversation, I don't belong to your crowd and I don't make small talk with you when you're in your crazy/funny kind of mood, which I'm finding out lately is almost every hour of every shift. I don't know how to deal with you when you're that way. I am a serious gal with a serious outlook in life. I take things that happen seriously and respond to them with an earnestness reminiscent of law-abiders of old. (Of course, an exception to everything is when I'm with my closest friends.) And the times that we've talked when I sort of initiated the topics, you level yourself with my degree of seriousness which I've realized lately is not your usual. So yes, I don't really know you. And yes, you're kinda leagues away.

So why the sudden cheeriness? A favor. I see. Of course, I would use the same tactics when I need to do that same thing. But with your maturity and probably more pessimist view of life, you think everything can be manipulated. You were even surprised at my agreeing to your request without so much as a bribe. I don't operate on those grounds. I do things out of my innate goodness. And with you continuing to be incredulous that I would consent almost readily, I came up with something then in exchange for what you were asking - something only I would be interested in - but I opted to voice another thought instead. No shit. It would have been the perfect opportunity to gauge how I feel towards you. But no, it was a crazy thought. Will never voice it, at least not to you.

Much as I would like to say that I made this decision because I'm overall a good person, I can't help thinking that had it been someone else making the request, I might not have given in so easily. I may even have thought of something to render me incapable of acquiescing to the request. But even then when I was processing a call, I had half a mind to think about what you were asking and proposing so that not five minutes later, you've secured my agreement. (It helped that I convinced myself that I'm doing this for my own activities too this coming weekend. And that this will be a springboard for a favor I might ask of you in the near future when I would need a backup plan.) Hooray for you.

I thought afterwards that my doing this (heck, I did need a lot of convincing) would be in return for a favor you did for me back in March last year when I was going to watch the Stone Temple Pilots concert and they were having it on a Wednesday. Convenient for me  that you periodically swap to have weekend rest days. And that's how I was able to match a name to your person, which had in fact intrigued me for a while already. For in anticipation of the approval of the other swap requested of me, I was periodically checking the announcements (the darn thing never appeared!) and so I've come to memorize your name, it with the very Christian bent attached to a personality less more so. Of course, you wouldn't remember it. I've somehow realized that guys don't remember the things that girls attach sentimental values to, like the clothes one wore that day, the date something  significant (to her) happened or the circumstances that brought about certain situations. I had to remind you that first day we officially  made acquaintance that I knew your nickname by way of that incident. And after that telling acquaintance, it gave a bigger reason to my having the means to find out something about you on the world's favorite website which was your name. Good thing your TL was already my contact then (he who I'd forever like not least for his suave voice and accomodating nature but also for continuing to call me by my full second given name even if it's been everywhere shortened to just the last two syllables).

Woah was the word. It was like something struck me deep in my soul when I saw those pictures. Like something became electrifyingly clear. It was you.



I was just randomly queuing songs from the 90s on my playlist to accompany me as I type this, and then this played. And it was like, I was hearing it for the very first time. And THIS. FREAKING. NAILED. THE. SHIT. I don't try to use words I don't really claim I understand in the empirical sense, but then this...

The video is itself formulaic and lacking the earnestness in Brendan's whiny voice but the words are pretty spot on.




And so for one little while on a Thursday night, in the 22nd floor of a busy office, I once again felt what it was like to be the object of your attention.

Snared as I ever am, I wonder again how long am I gonna be writing these stories of mine...