Date three

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.

The second time Ariane and I went to the Ortigas area, it was for kicks. Nobody called it a date, but everything was somewhat as stake. Both of us dreamt of becoming DJs, and the radio geek in me meant we were headed to the RX studios to audition for their student DJ program. We took the same trains, but went down a different station and walked a longer distance, while I was telling Ariane stories of that meet-up with Lizette.

The auditions were quicker than expected, or perhaps it was me being inside another radio booth, watching Rico Robles deal with text messages and throwing an occasional expletive along the way. After that lesson on beating the lisp, which I ceremoniously complained-ish about during the recording, we met up with Jem, and walked our way back to EDSA to take a bus home. Ariane bought a necklace at St. Francis Square, not being able to choose immediately whether she'd choose one over the other. We ended up going home with a G-clef on her neck, and a Krispy Kreme on our stomachs - heck, it was a bargain, since I only bought one for myself (and she agreed) and ended up getting two free. I still got home two hours after we left.

The third time Ariane and I went to the Ortigas area, it was for kicks. But this time it really meant a lot for us. Well, for Ariane, at least - she's been trying her luck on the radio industry, you see, and she's asked me to go with her back to the RX studios to submit her demo and cling on to hope. This time, she came from her work in Makati, and I waited for an hour at the National Bookstore branch in SM Megamall while she dealt with vehicular traffic to the Buendia station, and later with foot traffic at the station itself.

Rico Robles was still the DJ on board when we got there, although it was already the night shift, and he had a different partner. The words were still the same - "primetime kasi, eh," as he'd put it - but this time, it was an Archuleta/Cook vote-a-thon, with the fan clubs obviously activated to fight the cause. And this time, we were quipping about our own calling rather than lisps. "Each of us has a calling," he went, before pointing to the station's news director, who was handling Ariane's redundant recording. A writer turned radio presenter.

This time, we decided to have dinner, since we left the studios at eight in the evening - a terribly late time for me, who lives so far away, and with limited transportation options. We ended up having dinner at one of the restaurants at the sixth floor of The Podium, despite not really having any money, although the obvious difference was, we were earning our own money. There wasn't any hesitation on anybody's part when we went up the escalators, while I was telling stories of that regrettable day when I became a fangirl. Over dinner, at a half-full Filipino/Japanese stop, we discussed insecurities and our careers, and the things we've put on hold, and the things we've decided to go with. Perhaps the most poignant thing was when Ariane decided to give me her business card, something which I obviously don't have. I brought my driver's license out of my wallet to temporarily give room to that two-by-three slip. "Ariane Astorga," it said. "Writer and publicist, marketing group."

And your responses...

Woah. It feels pretty weird once you see your life documented through somebody else's eyes. haha. i like the ending of the post. very dramatic. :P thanks for everything dude!

Blogger My Pink Office12/04/2008     

parang... :p

Blogger N.12/06/2008     

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