One, I appreciate topical humor more than anything else. Only now did I realize the impact of my interests as a child. I've been reading newspapers for as long as I can remember, and my interest in anything that blasts out of the radio's speakers or on the monochromatic television screen meant I was following the news on both media. I took up Communication Arts with the intention of becoming a writer, but my past easily caught up with me, and I come out more confused than ever before.
But, if anything pretty notable has come out of it, it's my interest in current events. I'm still not the news geek people presume me to be, but make me watch the news and expect me to argue with the anchor in ten minutes. Don't expect me to go to the streets and protest - some people argue it's the only way to make democracy work, which is either them being stupid, or me being ignorant - but expect me to discuss and argue with someone who'll probably agree with me, or at the very least, not shout back at me in dismissal. And, expect me to be the only one among the people you know - now that's a seriously tall order, so refute me - to understand what Jon Stewart was referring to when he finally gave kudos to George W. Bush.
I don't really know why, but my interest in satire is rooted in two things: I'm probably the only one in the house who gets it, and it makes me look smart. And, the popularly irreverent people do these things well, and I secret aspire to become like them, if only to get the attention I still think I deserve. Then again, it's better to laugh at Tina Fey becoming Sarah Palin than at yourself becoming a slave to your unattainable dreams. And, even if things do change, nothing will come out of it anyway, and quite simply so.
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12/31/2008
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12/30/2008
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Like last year, I spent Christmas at my cousin's house, partly because it's a big enough venue to hold four couples and their rowdy children. Obviously bored - and sleepy, thanks to the noche buena earlier, and the fact that I spent roughly ten hours in the office the day before - I was drifting particularly nowhere, until I spotted a familiar piece of paper on the computer table.
Yellow, blue, campaign-on face? It was an invite to Mon's after-graduation party.
By now this should make sense. Of course, I'm with my cousins at Merville, and demonstrated so many times already, they're close the way we're close. So it wasn't a surprise to see that invitation, printed on photo paper, lying around the house. And it wasn't a surprise that I remembered the after-dinner drinks, the tequila spill on my shirt, and Mon's failed attempts to get me drunk. What I remembered was, well, something way before that.
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Yellow, blue, campaign-on face? It was an invite to Mon's after-graduation party.
By now this should make sense. Of course, I'm with my cousins at Merville, and demonstrated so many times already, they're close the way we're close. So it wasn't a surprise to see that invitation, printed on photo paper, lying around the house. And it wasn't a surprise that I remembered the after-dinner drinks, the tequila spill on my shirt, and Mon's failed attempts to get me drunk. What I remembered was, well, something way before that.
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12/28/2008
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It's just a text message. It normally happens. It gets sent when you have to say something, and right now, you have something to say. And it doesn't hurt to let your intentions known. And your intentions is to show that you're concerned.
But that's the problem. You're concerned. You know very well what you really feel, but what will this text message tell her? It won't be the same old run-of-the-mill messages that you send. You're bound to put something in between the lines. You're going to hope that she gets it. You're going to wish to the stars above that she answers favorably, and then it'll lead to something considerably better.
But you're also wishing that nothing else comes out, that everything that crossed your head for the past eleven months will never leak out, and that this will all remain something that you and your friend-who-knows-everything know. What difference does a text message bring? It's everything, apparently, because not everybody will do it, and not everybody will let their intentions known, because they don't have to. And you suddenly think that you have to. Besides, it's just a cold, and nobody dies from a cold.
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But that's the problem. You're concerned. You know very well what you really feel, but what will this text message tell her? It won't be the same old run-of-the-mill messages that you send. You're bound to put something in between the lines. You're going to hope that she gets it. You're going to wish to the stars above that she answers favorably, and then it'll lead to something considerably better.
But you're also wishing that nothing else comes out, that everything that crossed your head for the past eleven months will never leak out, and that this will all remain something that you and your friend-who-knows-everything know. What difference does a text message bring? It's everything, apparently, because not everybody will do it, and not everybody will let their intentions known, because they don't have to. And you suddenly think that you have to. Besides, it's just a cold, and nobody dies from a cold.
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12/24/2008
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The difference is, I'm employed now. I don't have the time to think up of a cheesy group message to send to almost everybody, and much more, I don't have the time to determine who gets the message, out of the 250 people on my contact list. So, yesterday, I decided to compose the message while on my way home last night, and determined the 85 people who will get it. And, a little before eight in the morning, I pressed that button. You know, the one that says "send".
There's always a catch. I've been doing this for the past two years, and the results always amuse me - with my easily refuted "ever social" tendencies, people are bound to forget who I am. Or, maybe, never bother to know who I am. But this year has been spectacular, with the number of people I've met (and done everything with). And, inevitably, I can't help but be cynical about it.
Heck, I still sent the same message to 85 people. I'm at work, and despite all that, I'll still wish you a happy holiday season. Oh, and thank you for all the swoony, angry plot twists. See you when I turn twenty! As the phone started to freeze before sending, I hoped this was all worth it, Whether it will bring something cuddly, or something almost-blah, at least until five in the afternoon, well...
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There's always a catch. I've been doing this for the past two years, and the results always amuse me - with my easily refuted "ever social" tendencies, people are bound to forget who I am. Or, maybe, never bother to know who I am. But this year has been spectacular, with the number of people I've met (and done everything with). And, inevitably, I can't help but be cynical about it.
Heck, I still sent the same message to 85 people. I'm at work, and despite all that, I'll still wish you a happy holiday season. Oh, and thank you for all the swoony, angry plot twists. See you when I turn twenty! As the phone started to freeze before sending, I hoped this was all worth it, Whether it will bring something cuddly, or something almost-blah, at least until five in the afternoon, well...
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12/23/2008
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I definitely need this holiday.
Tomorrow's my last day at work, for this year, at least. Shame it couldn't be the last one ever. As much as my new supervisor, and my parents, insist that I have to stay for a year to look good, I can't wait for the day when I'll think of how to write my resignation letter, or the drama that follows afterwards. But this is the workplace. Drama only happens within the television screen, or in school, where nobody really cares about what you do.
People are actually surprised to hear that I'll have a full day tomorrow, although that argument's pretty moot. The set-up with the folks at Seattle have changed, which means I'm working as part of an autonomous team, assigned to write about shows that have yet to air, so I'm literally lounging on the last six hours of my shift, which induces a lot of guilt. For the past few days, I've been feeling lazy, too. I've always forced myself not to be lazy, but all of a sudden I have so much space. Still, it's the worst one could feel, especially with the obligations.
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Tomorrow's my last day at work, for this year, at least. Shame it couldn't be the last one ever. As much as my new supervisor, and my parents, insist that I have to stay for a year to look good, I can't wait for the day when I'll think of how to write my resignation letter, or the drama that follows afterwards. But this is the workplace. Drama only happens within the television screen, or in school, where nobody really cares about what you do.
People are actually surprised to hear that I'll have a full day tomorrow, although that argument's pretty moot. The set-up with the folks at Seattle have changed, which means I'm working as part of an autonomous team, assigned to write about shows that have yet to air, so I'm literally lounging on the last six hours of my shift, which induces a lot of guilt. For the past few days, I've been feeling lazy, too. I've always forced myself not to be lazy, but all of a sudden I have so much space. Still, it's the worst one could feel, especially with the obligations.
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12/20/2008
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"For your information, almost a week na akong hindi nanonood ng TV kasi walang matinong mapanood. And when I say matino, eh yung mga... nakakakilig at may kuwentang panoorin... you know girls."
"I know. And girls deny boys what they want."
"No. Boys deny girls."
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"I know. And girls deny boys what they want."
"No. Boys deny girls."
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12/19/2008
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The moment I got my second pay slip in as many days, I realized that it really is the holidays.
The traffic along Shaw Boulevard has gotten worse. The lines at the ATMs have gotten longer. At one point, I even went home with a wrapped-up pillow and a box of man, the stuff I failed to claim at our company's Christmas party when I decided to go home early. But if there's a more important indication of the sudden redefinition of the holidays for me, it's the fact that I'll have to buy gifts for people now.
My uncles from my father's side have been asking me for outrageously expensive items. Of course, it's a joke, but it's a persistent one. I didn't really have to worry much, though. As early as two months ago, I had my plans laid out. I began asking everybody in the family the things they want to receive as a gift. Sister went for a book by either Gabriel Garcia Marquez or, since I was in a Philip Seymour Hoffman daze at that time, Truman Capote. Brother went for either Death Magnetic or Chinese Democracy, which will benefit me either way as it's still something for my ears. Mother went for a coin purse, leather, black, and jokingly hoped to see P4,000 inside.
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The traffic along Shaw Boulevard has gotten worse. The lines at the ATMs have gotten longer. At one point, I even went home with a wrapped-up pillow and a box of man, the stuff I failed to claim at our company's Christmas party when I decided to go home early. But if there's a more important indication of the sudden redefinition of the holidays for me, it's the fact that I'll have to buy gifts for people now.
My uncles from my father's side have been asking me for outrageously expensive items. Of course, it's a joke, but it's a persistent one. I didn't really have to worry much, though. As early as two months ago, I had my plans laid out. I began asking everybody in the family the things they want to receive as a gift. Sister went for a book by either Gabriel Garcia Marquez or, since I was in a Philip Seymour Hoffman daze at that time, Truman Capote. Brother went for either Death Magnetic or Chinese Democracy, which will benefit me either way as it's still something for my ears. Mother went for a coin purse, leather, black, and jokingly hoped to see P4,000 inside.
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12/18/2008
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I left my desk an hour later than usual, without anything in mind. I figured I needed the time for contemplation. I came into the office deciding to be very much invisible. I didn't show up on the instant messaging applications, mindful that the effort is futile since there'd be a conference call in the morning. There wasn't, which left me ample time to type in my articles, make sense of my suddenly truncated tasks, and perhaps keep to myself, all while freezing inside the office.
An air conditioning vent is situated right above me. Apart from the grunting sounds, I can sense whether the thing's set down to damn cold, or is turned off. People would usually wear sweaters at this time - to my right, it's tan, pink and black - but I don't. I don't really like bringing out my jacket, first of all, since it's more suitable for those rainy days than cold situations, although it works sometimes, too. And second, well, does it change things? It's still cold.
I quietly stepped out of my desk, went straight to the door, plugged in my earphones and started thinking about where I'll go for lunch. I couldn't think straight. I never really thought about it, but I was running out of options, and I didn't want to go to the mall again. But suddenly I was more than willing to walk around in circles. Never mind being aimless - all I need is the warmth outside.
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An air conditioning vent is situated right above me. Apart from the grunting sounds, I can sense whether the thing's set down to damn cold, or is turned off. People would usually wear sweaters at this time - to my right, it's tan, pink and black - but I don't. I don't really like bringing out my jacket, first of all, since it's more suitable for those rainy days than cold situations, although it works sometimes, too. And second, well, does it change things? It's still cold.
I quietly stepped out of my desk, went straight to the door, plugged in my earphones and started thinking about where I'll go for lunch. I couldn't think straight. I never really thought about it, but I was running out of options, and I didn't want to go to the mall again. But suddenly I was more than willing to walk around in circles. Never mind being aimless - all I need is the warmth outside.
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12/17/2008
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At the very worst, you can say I'm possessive. I tend to hold on to things so tightly, especially when things just get so good, or technically, when they happen in my favor. My term for it is "significant emotional investment" - I didn't really coin that term, but I'd rather forget the circumstances.
And that makes it harder to let go, especially when things start to go wrong. The system fails you. People turn their back on you, or worse, start plotting against you. Your devices are left useless, and when all is lost, you have no choice but to retreat. But, at the very worst, you can say I never give up. Either I don't do something - I've determined that the chances of success for this thing is close to nil, so back off - or I do something, and never stop. Pulling the plug is a painful exercise for me. Again, "significant emotional investment".
You can't have everything you want. Or so they say. In a time when you're faced with a myriad of choices, from mobile phone units to television channels to surgical implants, you're only asked to choose a few, and generally stick with it. And then they fail, and you go through life and (sometimes) death just to get out and start anew. So, my cynical side proposes a change to the order: you can't have anything you want.
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And that makes it harder to let go, especially when things start to go wrong. The system fails you. People turn their back on you, or worse, start plotting against you. Your devices are left useless, and when all is lost, you have no choice but to retreat. But, at the very worst, you can say I never give up. Either I don't do something - I've determined that the chances of success for this thing is close to nil, so back off - or I do something, and never stop. Pulling the plug is a painful exercise for me. Again, "significant emotional investment".
You can't have everything you want. Or so they say. In a time when you're faced with a myriad of choices, from mobile phone units to television channels to surgical implants, you're only asked to choose a few, and generally stick with it. And then they fail, and you go through life and (sometimes) death just to get out and start anew. So, my cynical side proposes a change to the order: you can't have anything you want.
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12/16/2008
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Let's put it this way. I got to the office after buying take-out, and I noticed that the three are gone. Off to lunch. Together. It was the scenario I bitched about exactly a week ago, although it turned out to be something much more complicated than what I eventually figured out. Or, it's funny thinking it takes other people figuring things out for me to figure things out.
While I was walking to the mall, I was playing with words in my head. For the past six months, I've been doing a lot of bad decisions, one after another, almost all the time. I figured I shouldn't be waiting for someone to invite me to lunch, but I figured I shouldn't invite anyone either, and so I left deciding to buy myself some take-out. I get back to the office to see three empty desks and no invitation on mine in sight.
That basically confirms what I've been thinking all along: it doesn't mean nobody is after you. No, wait, that isn't my line, but yes, I've always dismissed my scenario as something caused by the nature of our work. If you're writing eight articles a day, and you can't find anything on everything, then you'll spend you time either diligently looking for an angle (like I do) or watching bootlegged television shows (like they do, although I do this too when I'm done). I figured I'd rather leave them alone, although that eventually came to haunt me. Imagine seeing the people you're supposed to relate to the most talk amongst themselves and exclude you outright.
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While I was walking to the mall, I was playing with words in my head. For the past six months, I've been doing a lot of bad decisions, one after another, almost all the time. I figured I shouldn't be waiting for someone to invite me to lunch, but I figured I shouldn't invite anyone either, and so I left deciding to buy myself some take-out. I get back to the office to see three empty desks and no invitation on mine in sight.
That basically confirms what I've been thinking all along: it doesn't mean nobody is after you. No, wait, that isn't my line, but yes, I've always dismissed my scenario as something caused by the nature of our work. If you're writing eight articles a day, and you can't find anything on everything, then you'll spend you time either diligently looking for an angle (like I do) or watching bootlegged television shows (like they do, although I do this too when I'm done). I figured I'd rather leave them alone, although that eventually came to haunt me. Imagine seeing the people you're supposed to relate to the most talk amongst themselves and exclude you outright.
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12/14/2008
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I'm turning twenty years old in a little over three weeks, but for the time being, I'm still nineteen. Everybody around me is surprised to learn that I'm that old. I'm nineteen, a cum laude graduate, and already working as an offshore writer for an entertainment website, and people could probably only expect so much from me.
Well, I don't know. People are expected to do certain things at a certain time. I, for one, was expected to graduate from college at age 21, be able to deal with life before that time, and maybe get a well-earning job right after. Oh, and get circumsized before I hit sixth grade. (I am circumsized. Don't imagine things. There's nothing to imagine.)
Obviously that time table's been wrecked before a time table could be set. Thanks to someone thinking I'm a genius - my IQ level apparently says so - I entered kindergarten when I should be in nursery, and graduated from sixth grade a year earlier. I got kicked out in high school, but I was still on track anyway. And, thanks to DLSU's trimestral program, I finished my college degree in three years. Thus, I graduated at age 19, and have in my hands a relatively well-earning job.
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Well, I don't know. People are expected to do certain things at a certain time. I, for one, was expected to graduate from college at age 21, be able to deal with life before that time, and maybe get a well-earning job right after. Oh, and get circumsized before I hit sixth grade. (I am circumsized. Don't imagine things. There's nothing to imagine.)
Obviously that time table's been wrecked before a time table could be set. Thanks to someone thinking I'm a genius - my IQ level apparently says so - I entered kindergarten when I should be in nursery, and graduated from sixth grade a year earlier. I got kicked out in high school, but I was still on track anyway. And, thanks to DLSU's trimestral program, I finished my college degree in three years. Thus, I graduated at age 19, and have in my hands a relatively well-earning job.
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12/13/2008
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So you'd rather be remembered by the good things. Finding those isn't hard, really. Good memories, surprising conversations, those little insights into life I gained - I'll have to give you credit for those. That, and perhaps, whatever's left of the physical marks you left me one time, but that's a different story. Like everybody else, I'm sure you'd rather be remembered by those.
Making sure that's the case is hard, really. You decided to bid farewell in two weeks, but you returned after three. I already thought there wouldn't be any chance for one last word, since we both thought that, well, that is it. All the same I gladly accepted your return. Just a chance, I figured, to add more to those good things that you wanted to be remembered by. And I'm sure I'm not alone in that regard.
I eventually told myself that having too much is a bad thing. Yes, we went further and further, and as weeks passed by it's as if we're inseperable, as if the only thing that would stop us is a possibility that I'm all too aware of: departure itself. And then I did some things, and you did some things, and I realize that it isn't a match made in heaven. You were, after all, built to hate people like me - cynical, immature, annoying, perhaps a bit possessive, too. And I was built to hate people like you - hypocritical, shallow, patronizing, perhaps a bit dismissive, too.
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Making sure that's the case is hard, really. You decided to bid farewell in two weeks, but you returned after three. I already thought there wouldn't be any chance for one last word, since we both thought that, well, that is it. All the same I gladly accepted your return. Just a chance, I figured, to add more to those good things that you wanted to be remembered by. And I'm sure I'm not alone in that regard.
I eventually told myself that having too much is a bad thing. Yes, we went further and further, and as weeks passed by it's as if we're inseperable, as if the only thing that would stop us is a possibility that I'm all too aware of: departure itself. And then I did some things, and you did some things, and I realize that it isn't a match made in heaven. You were, after all, built to hate people like me - cynical, immature, annoying, perhaps a bit possessive, too. And I was built to hate people like you - hypocritical, shallow, patronizing, perhaps a bit dismissive, too.
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12/12/2008
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I don't know if it's my upbringing as a Catholic - I studied in a Christian (but non-sectarian) school, tried to take values lessons to heart, and was even an active member of Kids for Christ - but I feel unable to do anything.
Okay. School. Rules and regulations. They all said one thing, really, despite the myriad of ways you can phrase it: don't do anything bad. And with the way us kids thought before, it also meant we shouldn't think of anything bad. That'd eventually grow to mean "impure" thoughts, so you aren't supposed to stare at those end boards that say "breastfeeding is best for babies up to two years" and remember them before you go to bed - but before, it simply meant being annoyed at someone.
"Kasi si ganito galit kay ganyan, kaya ayun, inano niya."
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Okay. School. Rules and regulations. They all said one thing, really, despite the myriad of ways you can phrase it: don't do anything bad. And with the way us kids thought before, it also meant we shouldn't think of anything bad. That'd eventually grow to mean "impure" thoughts, so you aren't supposed to stare at those end boards that say "breastfeeding is best for babies up to two years" and remember them before you go to bed - but before, it simply meant being annoyed at someone.
"Kasi si ganito galit kay ganyan, kaya ayun, inano niya."
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12/10/2008
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"Why? Same issue?"
"Three people left for lunch, and nobody told me? Even earlier, before I had lunch by myself? What the fuck is going on?"
"Don't mind them. Mahirap yun gawin, but that's what you have to do."
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"Three people left for lunch, and nobody told me? Even earlier, before I had lunch by myself? What the fuck is going on?"
"Don't mind them. Mahirap yun gawin, but that's what you have to do."
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12/09/2008
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"I went to his page and read some recent posts."
Found the following line linked to one of my entries. That's how Jhie found me, after all. One's innate curiosity leads to people clicking on links until he's wasted an hour of his time. I decided to read it again, wondering how the thing shapes up three months after it was written.
"I'm fearful that what happened to me in the past would happen to me again..."
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Found the following line linked to one of my entries. That's how Jhie found me, after all. One's innate curiosity leads to people clicking on links until he's wasted an hour of his time. I decided to read it again, wondering how the thing shapes up three months after it was written.
"I'm fearful that what happened to me in the past would happen to me again..."
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12/08/2008
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"You know you hate your job when you do things to endanger your career but you don't even feel a tinge of regret."
It's been almost two months since Katia wrote those words, but they're still stuck in my head. I remember telling that to Ariane when we met up a week ago, in the middle of a discussion about our options in the future. Or, better yet, whether we have any options at all.
I was on the homebound jeepney at eleven in the evening, and as the more familiar sights came in, the sleepier I was getting. I couldn't wait to go to bed and get over everything. I started thinking about the long day I just had, and all of a sudden, something struck me: I made this huge on one of my write-ups.
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It's been almost two months since Katia wrote those words, but they're still stuck in my head. I remember telling that to Ariane when we met up a week ago, in the middle of a discussion about our options in the future. Or, better yet, whether we have any options at all.
I was on the homebound jeepney at eleven in the evening, and as the more familiar sights came in, the sleepier I was getting. I couldn't wait to go to bed and get over everything. I started thinking about the long day I just had, and all of a sudden, something struck me: I made this huge on one of my write-ups.
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12/06/2008
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I'm sorry if I'm not cool enough.
I'm sorry for being naïve, for being clueless about whatever's rocking everybody else's boat, and for being unaware of the people we should care about and the things we should be fawning about.
I'm sorry for my inability to sniff out the next big thing before everybody else thinks it is one.
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I'm sorry for being naïve, for being clueless about whatever's rocking everybody else's boat, and for being unaware of the people we should care about and the things we should be fawning about.
I'm sorry for my inability to sniff out the next big thing before everybody else thinks it is one.
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12/04/2008
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The first time Ariane and I went to the Ortigas area, it was for film class. Sir Doy was encouraging us to watch some European films at the Shangri-la Plaza, and since it was for free, we thought we didn't really have much to lose. Clarence went as far as calling it a "date", for some reason, because I don't think anybody else went to that year's Cine Europa film festival to be able to have something extra for our film notes. It was just the two of us.
So we left school and took the trains to the mall. There were the lines at the Vito Cruz station and the much longer lines at the EDSA-Taft station, and the moment we got to the mall, we climbed up the bridge connecting directly to the sixth floor. We were wasting our time at the Powerbooks branch at the sixth floor, waiting for the 17.00 start time, and getting reprimanded by the security guards in the process. (I don't know why. Must be the photo of ourselves that we took.)
The film ended at around seven in the evening, and by then I was itching to go home for fear that I won't be able to go home. But we stalled a bit, deciding to watch a Basil Valdez concert that was happening at the mall's lobby, and making sure we'd finish the entire thing without getting in the way of the cameras. We decided to hold our hunger until the time we got home, and in my case, it was almost two hours later. Well, she ended up buying something at some street stall in Baclaran while waiting for the bus to bring us to more familiar territory.
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So we left school and took the trains to the mall. There were the lines at the Vito Cruz station and the much longer lines at the EDSA-Taft station, and the moment we got to the mall, we climbed up the bridge connecting directly to the sixth floor. We were wasting our time at the Powerbooks branch at the sixth floor, waiting for the 17.00 start time, and getting reprimanded by the security guards in the process. (I don't know why. Must be the photo of ourselves that we took.)
The film ended at around seven in the evening, and by then I was itching to go home for fear that I won't be able to go home. But we stalled a bit, deciding to watch a Basil Valdez concert that was happening at the mall's lobby, and making sure we'd finish the entire thing without getting in the way of the cameras. We decided to hold our hunger until the time we got home, and in my case, it was almost two hours later. Well, she ended up buying something at some street stall in Baclaran while waiting for the bus to bring us to more familiar territory.
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12/01/2008
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I was going through Facebook a few minutes ago when I spotted someone I don't know tag Miss Mel on one of his photo albums. An album of scanned newspaper clippings is irresistible to someone like me who's collected foreign newsprint over the years, especially when considering that one of my former teachers - well, not technically, since I didn't take any of her classes - is now working in Vietnam.
What I later saw surprised me. I was expecting articles written in Vietnamese, only with her photo on it, although there are some newspapers from that country that are published in English. (And they aren't really what you'd see in, say, Malaysia or Singapore. I guess it's the controls over the media, if I still have my history right.) Instead I have newspaper articles from 1995, with the scans verging on brown than yellow, and amidst the familiar then-dated look of the Inquirer was this deck: "As the first Filipino jock on Channel V's Sigaw Manila, she gets fanmail from all over the world."
One of my teachers was on international television.
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What I later saw surprised me. I was expecting articles written in Vietnamese, only with her photo on it, although there are some newspapers from that country that are published in English. (And they aren't really what you'd see in, say, Malaysia or Singapore. I guess it's the controls over the media, if I still have my history right.) Instead I have newspaper articles from 1995, with the scans verging on brown than yellow, and amidst the familiar then-dated look of the Inquirer was this deck: "As the first Filipino jock on Channel V's Sigaw Manila, she gets fanmail from all over the world."
One of my teachers was on international television.
Read more »