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