Mavicity

Willie, nawiwili ka na. Or Shakespeare and other metaphors for Mr. Revillame.

Fri, 01 Apr 2011 03:54:00 -0700

All the world's a stage to Willie Revillame.

Everyone plays a character.

Emotions are made-up.

Trap-doors and smoke and mirrors,

and hiding corpses behind curtains.

The choreographed applause,

the dancing, the singing,

the crying, the drama of life unfolding.

The crush of bodies.

The sweat that flows as secrets,

held on to for so long, are revealed

on national television.

And the money, the money that flows.

A payment for every dirty underwear exposed,

for every horrible gyration, screeches, screams.

So little for more than a pound of flesh.

The humiliation, the horror.

Ok lang, may bayad naman.

Everything has a value, and that's monetary.

Who cares if the happiness is momentary?

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Happy Yipee Yehey: Another half-baked noontime show?

Sat, 12 Feb 2011 00:20:00 -0800

Call me a backstage critic.

I'm a scriptwriter, a voice over, a propswoman, a floor director. In short, I work unseen, so you may work in a few bitterness in my tone.

I am also the market for these noontime shows.

From Lunchdate to Showtime and now, just this afternoon, to Happy Yipee Yehey.

First off, the opening number was unexpectedly expected. Ten days old into the Chinese New Year and they give us what? Yet another lion and dragon dance. I'd say it ended there.

After that it was a hodge podge of song and dance numbers, movie and show promos and games that were so obviously a rehash of other games here and abroad. The only saving grace was the Ikaw ang Bida interactive game but even that was borrowed from Eat Bulaga and their long time invasion of the barangays. Ho hum. Done. Done. Done.

Not to mention that the pacing was painfully slow, people talked so damnably slow you would have wanted to rip out the words from their throats; the music, light and stage cues were a heartbeat later than expected. It was a test of patience to finish the show.

So anyway. Let us all hope that they do better on Monday.

On a positive note, Karylle, after her self-eviction, was made co-host of Showtime. Now that, is worth saying happy yipee yehey.

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The Real Pulpy Deal: Minute Maid Pulpy has NO PRESERVATIVES :D

Sun, 09 Jan 2011 10:00:00 -0800

I just drank a bottle of Minute Maid Pulpy. They say it’s got ‘no preservatives added’. Aw, c’mon…It’s bottled juice. Is that even possible? So I thought maybe... I'm having my leg pulled.

I didn’t believe it the first time I heard it’s got no preservatives added. So I read the ingredients (even the fine print) and everything checked out! It really has NO PRESERVATIVES ADDED! That means it doesn’t have ingredients that may turn out to be allergens, or worse...carcinogens! Whew! Now that’s healthy goodness that tastes so good, I... had to buy another bottle and drink it up fast!

So okay, it’s got no preservatives added. That’s really good, right? Not just because it doesn’t have those icky, harmful ingredients, but it also means... it's good enough to drink every time I feel like I need a healthy drink.

So far anyone who still has a hard time believing that Minute Maid has got no preservatives added - meaning it's THAT natural, it's almost like it's plucked straight from the tree, it's just as Mother Nature wanted your orange juice to be, it's got nothing but the good stuff yes, none of those potentially toxic stuff that can harm your brain, kidneys, heart; cause tumors aargh- the list of preservatives' bad effects just go on!!! Anyway, just to prove a point on just how good Minute Maid Pulpy is 'cause it's got NO PRESERVATIVES ADDED, I'm gonna tell the world about it.

Feels good to know about the real pulpy deal, right? C’mon show me a smile on the comment box, and you might win yourself a Really Pulpy Deal! (That’s a chance to win a Minute Maid gift pack simply by commenting. Sweet! C'mon you just might be picked as the lucky 'commentor'!)

Love,

Mavicity

http://www.facebook.com/MinuteMaid.ph

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Bratty Bonita Laptop Bag Review

Mon, 13 Dec 2010 19:57:00 -0800

I recently got the Red Snakeskin Specialist that was on Christmas sale.

I bought it online from brattybonita22.multiply.com, owned by Thea Secretaria, featured in Unang Hirit. She's a young entrepreneur and every girl probably want to have her life: bag designer, business owner, and an office girl that's mostly sent abroad.

I am generally an easy online buyer, meaning I don't ask too many things, I contact you for the order, I meet-up to pay and get the product. I've bought several things online including two laptops, a camera and the usual girlie wirlie stuff (read: whitening and slimming products).

This being my first time to buy a bag online, I was, as Thea summarized: so makulit. Probably because I don't usually buy bags even offline, I just wait for people to get tired of my bag and finally give me a new one.

Anyway, I got my new bag by meeting up with Thea's mom, had a little chit chat at DQ Cubao and I was off with a very spunky lookin' laptop bag. Although I must admit I was a bit offed that there was no receipt for the not at all negligible sum of moolah I gave up, oh well, online shopping has such risks.

The first thing I noticed was that the black material looked like the brittle kind of pleather, remember when your black shoes would break up in parts that moved the most? It was the same black material on the handles as well which made the handles tough and to not mold to your shoulder.

The lining also packed a punchline. It was a red bag with a bright green lining. Hah. Although I must admit that the bright green lining made the insides a little more easier to navigate, especially with all the things I cram inside it, so in the end the color was definitely a plus.

I had to put glue on the belt-like designs so that they stay put and not cause tears in the red material where they were looped through.

But if you notice on the photo above, the bag has supports underneath so that the bottom need not touch ground even when you're shoulders are aching from the weight of your laptop and definitely had to put the bag down. The bag also stand up quite nicely and that's a big plus for those commuting via train, just put the bag down and clip it between your legs :D

Also your laptop, tiny or of cinematic proportions, is very well protected once inside the bag because of the Uratex padding. This also makes the bag a nice hugbuddy for the long commutes.

It's also quite an upgrade to my over-all look. An aunt asked me if it was a Prada. Hah! I wish, but hey, it does look as good as one.

So for recommendations, this one is definitely recommended. A must-buy for all of us girls who has to lug our laptops on our sexy backs day in and day out and still manage to look half-way decent and even fashionable. ;)

This is not a paid review.

You can find Bratty Bonita on multiply, facebook and twitter.

They also have another line called Tough Brat, see below. Love it. I wish I can have one of these for my birthday next month :D

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Christmas indulgences: Two Bratty Bonita Laptop Bags!!

Wed, 10 Nov 2010 21:26:00 -0800

I promise to be very good... to myself this Christmas season.

I recently got myself a spunky new HP 12 megapixel touchscreen camera and now I've got my eyes on a Bratty Bonita Laptop Bag. Although I'd much want to get them all, they have an assortment of styles and colors and sizes, I must settle for just one, at least for now.

Bratty Bonita Laptop Bags has a facebook account, a multiply account, a twitter account, an email account for inquiries and made to order laptop bags and a very nice red snake skin Specialist laptop bag which is on sale this Christmas!

Phew, now that's one too many links in one breath, but whatever, you have to see their stuff to know why I'm frothing in the mouth and wanting to get one ASAP.

I've already ordered for the red snake skin kick ass Specialist laptop bag, so I'm not going to rave about that, not till I get my hands on it. For now, let me fantasize over one of their other designs that I want to get for my birthday, which is happening in January 21 thankyouverymuch!

The beauty I hope to get as a gift (hint hint) for my birthday is a lovely mint green croc Michaela laptop bag, see photo and drool ^_^

It's tough and got it's own shape so it's perfect for trotting around in the mall or commuting with. No nosy elbows (pun?) to hurt a tiny fragile netbook.

Also, it doesn't look like a dorky hi-im-a-laptop-bag-steal-me-now ensemble right? For my job this is very important. I get to do my ocular inspections and my out of office work assignments with peace of mind. If you've read my older blog, you'll know I once lost a Macbook to a thief and I'm not letting that happen ever again. Needless to say during the time the Macbook got stolen, I was using a dorky, black laptop bag. Never again!

Inside are compartments for the laptop and everything else. whee, I have to sheepishly smile. I'm a pack rat and my bags are usually a case for Niecy Nash to clean up (Who want's a clean Bag?) so having a bag with neat compartments should help me organize my life better. Tiny netbook, one or two notebooks and a trade paperback plus my pens would fit quite nicely in a Michaela.

As for the color, I've been wondering why I fell in love with mint green, the red Specialist was clear enough since there are only two colors I love and that is red and black, but this green one, well, it simply sends me a message to calm down, pull back and relax. Exactly what I need during stressful, long and tiresome meetings! Hah! Bring 'em on!

So there, I await my first Brartty Bonita laptop bag and hopefully get another one in time for my birthday.

I might have something made to order too. Try to exercise the creative muscles a bit.

If you love Bratty Bonita or would want to check them out, just click in the myriad links I have early on in this post. I hope you get one too and let's all get together in a mall: The First Ever Bratty Bonita Flash Mob! ;)

Watch out for my next post about my red snakeskin Specialist from BB. Gotta love!

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All a good but forgotten songwriter needs is some airtime.

Fri, 05 Nov 2010 22:20:00 -0700

I'm not a fan of Pilipinas Win na Win.

There are some parts that I'd rather do away with or improve. But I'm not one of the primary target markets of the show, so my opinion matters less. Over all it has been well received and now in it's first month, the show could actually live to see 2011.

When I was a kid, we had a multiplex album, it's has four cassette tapes of OPM songs, much of which are either sung or written by Rey Valera. I used to sing along to the minus one.

Not having watched Pilipinas Win na Win in it's entirety, I thought it felt and sounded like a Tawag ng Tanghalan kind of show. Has-been oldies hurt more to watch than young wannabes.

So today, with no pressing deadline to battle with, and with the TV turned on indefinitely, and me lying on the bed half-asleep, Pilipinas Win na Win was uninterruptedly enjoying airtime in my living room.

They were celebrating their 1st month, and for hosts that have to sign contracts on a weekly-basis (is this real Pokwang?), that indeed is a big sign. The Hitmakers started out very awkwardly. They have almost zero hosting skills. The other three were too courteous and couldn't crack a joke without a bottle of beer in hand, and Rico J falls into his beer house hosting skills too soon he actually gets cut off by a commercial in the middle of his banter with the obviously distressed Pokwang.

Well, today, all four of them have evolved to good hosts. The three have lost their shyness, enough to make some oldies and surprisingly, some young ones, to swoon; Rico J have exfoliated a layer of extra thick and dark skin and could finally feel when he was being crass. But they had another surprise, Rey Valera wrote a song to thank the viewers who kept the ratings up and kept them signing the weekly contracts.

In my bed, I had to wake up and just simply stare at them singing. Because the song was so sincere and their singing was so giving and not self-absorbed, I was moved to tears. The song hinted on them being what they really were before Pilipinas Win na Win got them onboard: Rey, Rico, Nonoy and Marco were forgotten and shelved, or sent to other countries to serenade aging OFWs and immigrants. The song also hinted that well, they were already tired and ready to give up when finally someone decided, maybe by asking a magic8 ball, that they should host a noontime show. But most of all, the song was a thanksgiving, the song was an honest to goodness "thank you" to the people who cared enough to clap, who lent an ear to listen, and who wanted more of them that they had top spread the word. The Hitmakers: Rico, Rey, Nonoy and Marco were back and they ROCK, baby.

Forget the gimiks, forget the catchy made-up phrases, forget the dance moves, forget the novelty. Forget the lip-syncing host that sang cutesie songs and reeked of self-pride. Forget him and remember Rey Valera's words and the Hitmakers heart-felt, unselfish singing.

Good writers get better with age. Now I finally believe that being 25 and not having published anything is not my 2012. And now, I also believe that a show that's supposed to be as campy and cheesy as possible can be utterly classy and classic provided you choose the right hosts.

A good songwriter never loses stories to tell, never loses talent, we just lose faith in him.

OPM is back. Rey Valera is back. Real music and meaning is back. Thank you Rey Valera. Thank you to the magic8 ball that the TV executive asked whether he should get The Hitmakers to host Pilipinas Win na Win or not.

It does good to the heart when you have nothing bad to say. Real talent is not bound by youth. Pepe Smith and Rey Valera are the old but revitalized gods of Pinoy Music.

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Top Three Annoying Things Today

Tue, 02 Nov 2010 19:35:00 -0700

1. People having a penchant for work-disrupting music and NOT having earphones.

2. The proliferation of almost naked jocks in Jessica Zafra's blog.

3. Having another Christmas party script to write.

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The pleasure is mine.

Thu, 14 Oct 2010 03:10:00 -0700

Remind me again why exactly do I always have to put your feelings before mine?

Cause I totally forgot, and I'm no longer cowed by the faces you make. Like whatever, I can be a bitch too. I can talk your talk.

So excuse me if I step on your little footsies to get to the other side of the room. If you can perhaps move yourself away from my path?

Funny, I can't keep the bitch act for long. The muscle in my left eyebrow begins to show signs of fatigue at the second minute and it relaxes to it's normal pre-Miss Minchin position.

But sometimes it helps to play the evil sister, the evil stepmother, the troll under the bridge. There are two sides to everyone's coin and it hurts when we deny the dark side some airtime.

Just don't let the dark side reign I guess.

Anyway, bitchy me actually makes sense. You don't ALWAYS have to put others' feelings before yours'. Especially when you are a nonentity to them anyway. Give yourself a break. Let them sulk while you laugh.

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On the verge, or emotional constipation

Tue, 12 Oct 2010 02:04:00 -0700

This is driving me crazy. I feel like there's something about to happen. I feel it running around in my gut. A heavy bionic man running around and weighing a tonne.

I am ever impatient.

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The Cattywampus or Best Teacher I Ever Had by David Owen

Mon, 04 Oct 2010 02:18:00 -0700

Mr. Whitson taught sixth-grade science. On the first day of class, he gave us a lecture about a creature called the cattywampus, an ill-adapted nocturnal animal that was wiped out during the Ice Age. He passed around a skull as he talked. We all took notes and later had a quiz.

When he returned my paper, I was shocked. There was a big red X through each of my answers. I had failed. There had to be some mistake! I had written down exactly what Mr. Whitson said. Then I realized that everyone in the class had failed. What had happened?

Very simple, Mr. Whitson explained. He had made up all the stuff about the cattywampus. There had never been any such animal. The information in our notes was, therefore, incorrect. Did we expect credit for incorrect answers?

Needless to say, we were outraged. What kind of test was this? And what kind of teacher?

We should have figured it out, Mr. Whitson said. After all, at the every moment he was passing around the cattywampus skull (in truth, a cat's), hadn't he been telling us that no trace of the animal remained? He had described its amazing night vision, the color of its fur and any number of other facts he couldn't have known. He had given the animal a ridiculous name, and we still hadn't been suspicious. The zeroes on our papers would be recorded in his grade book, he said. And they were.

Mr. Whitson said he hoped we would learn something from this experience. Teachers and textbooks are not infallable. In fact, no one is. He told us not to let our minds go to sleep, and to speak up if we ever thought he or the textbook was wrong.

Every class was an adventure with Mr. Whitson. I can still remember some science periods almost from beginning to end. On day he told us that his Volkswagon was a living organism. It took us two full days to put together a refutation he would accept. He didn't let us off the hook until we had proved not only that we knew what an organism was but also that we had the fortitude to stand up for the truth.

We carried our brand-new skepticism into all our classes. This caused problems for the other teachers, who weren't used to being challenged. Our history teacher would be lecturing about something, and then there would be clearings of the throat and someone would say ``cattywampus.''

If I'm ever asked to propose a solution to the problems in our schools, it will be Mr. Whitson. I haven't made any great scientific discoveries, but Mr. Whitson's class gave me and my classmates something just as important: the courage to look people in the eye and tell them they are wrong. He also showed us that you can have fun doing it.

Not everyone sees the value in this. I once told an elementary school teacher about Mr. Whitson. The teacher was appalled. ``He shouldn't have tricked you like that,'' he said. I looked that teacher right in the eye and told him that he was wrong.

http://www.comp.nus.edu.sg/~leonghw/Courses/cattywampus.html

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Reading Zafra.

Sun, 19 Sep 2010 11:09:00 -0700

It's 2am and I'm reading Jessica Zafra's blog.

When I read her, I feel like I want to be her.

When I read her, I feel like I can't ever be her.

When I read her, I feel like, ew, sports?

Is she my IDOL? God forbid, I hate that word.

Somehow she just fits my everyday mood.

The standard-issue Mavic is made in Zafraland.

10 parts sarcasm, 90 parts genius. Yup, that would be me.

Or maybe I'm more of 90 parts sarcasm. 10 parts whinny ninny.

Do I like cats? No.

I have two dogs. The left and the right. Shit. It is 2am ok. Yeah, you just read that.

Do I like tennis? No.

I swim. I do indoor looser exercise DVDs and I think that Chalene Johnson is god.

Do I have sponsorships with National Bookstore? No.

Ok, yes, Zafra is out of my system.

For now. I can finally write about other things.

Exeunt left!

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Change

Sun, 19 Sep 2010 10:47:00 -0700

One day

you start to realize

how many times you work

late night

weekend.

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When the sun is out...

Mon, 06 Sep 2010 20:34:00 -0700

Lately, the sun has been happily shining down on me.

It doesn't do me well for you to know that I used to have 2 TVs, one I use for the sound (has no video), and the other I use for the scratchy video it manages to blink out.

Well now I have just one, a decent 21 inch Sony Trinitron, yes, I still skimped on buying a brand new one, but at least this has both audio and video in one big package. The Toshiba DVD player exhaled happily when it saw the new arrival. We transfered the TV area to the living room; having it in the dining simply was too much on the waist line.

I also love singing videoke. But with the time, or the non-existence of down time, that I have, I can't enjoy it anymore. And on the rare days that we do get invited to parties that are unavoidable and we can finally punch some numbers and sing, I end up fighting with Eric because I didn't want him to sing. Yes, I am that bad.

So the weekend after we bought the TV, we bought a videoke player. Love. I sang my heart out, good thing we didn't have neighbors.

And you probably haven't heard, but I was supposed to buy an old geezer of a jeep, that was a tedious process and it never materialized although we already have money invested in it.

Now it so happened that the jeep's seller also has a tiny plot of land she was selling at a little bit less than the price of the jeep. It's a tiny 25sqm lot. But I loved it.

So, for the past two weeks, from owning nothing, we suddenly have a TV, a videoke and a nice plot of land tucked in the edges of Banahaw.

They say when it rains, it pours. But that doesn't sound too positive coming from a country whose floods claim hundreds of lives.

Let me just say that Christmas came early and that when the sun is out, it really shines down on you.

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Just emotions taking me over.

Mon, 06 Sep 2010 01:47:00 -0700

Now that you have taught me how to be extra careful

With what I think, say, and do;

I have become extra sensitive

To what I think you all think, and to what you all say, what you all do.

I do not want this superfluous and useless anxiety flooding me.

I do not want to gut myself, to wish myself voiceless, but I do, now I do.

And the saddest part is that I have lost my muse.

I am a nut case, of that I'm most sure.

But that was what makes me channel a stream of words.

Now I try to be normal, and now I try to write.

But trying doesn't make a novel work.

I miss my evil person, if it's the one who holds the pen in my mind

Then I want that person back.

This change is being courteous to your feelings,

But it is devastating to the person who lives inside this shell.

Castration is for animals.

Let me be or let me go.

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Old Soul

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 22:07:54 -0800

Today I am tired for no reason known to me

I am bursting at the seams

Now, let it be now

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White flag

Tue, 01 Dec 2009 03:01:33 -0800

Putting up the white flag

Just want to work

Sans the politics of it all

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The Presidentiables. As seen on TV.

Mon, 30 Nov 2009 17:52:35 -0800

I used to be queasy when someone makes a comment on Villar. I thought I'd give the guy some credit, after all I'm living in one of his developments.

But after watching him on Isang Tanong, the GMA7 Presidentiables forum, I've changed my mind and sought solace to the fact that my father has already paid for the house and lot I am sleeping on.

Asked why he has so many "infomercials" he responded the following:

1.) Since he does not have a celebrity for a sibling (hit on Noynoy)

2) and he is not a descendant of any one of our political families (hit on PGMA et al, soon to be GGMA, more on that later)

3.) and, this is the most bizzare, that the public has to know that he and his family was a squatter once upon a time, sold shrimp in the local market once upon a time

These three were his reasons to flood primetime with his prime dime, 30s worth of informercial rounds up 240k.

He kept repeating how he was once upon a time poor. Well hell yeah, most of us Filipinos were not only once upon a time poor, but all the time poor. That's nothing new. Tell us something we haven't done yet! Tell us how you've gone from shrimpmonger to land mogul and TV celebrity, oh, excuse me, to a politician.

Come on, we were squatters before. Should I have said during my work interviews that I once lived under skewered GI sheets, dodging raindrops indoors, clutching my now fat tummy to appease the roiling monsters inside?

I remember that I told my employers how I persevered after the fact of poverty. I did not even dare mention how poor our situation was because I thought it was not why the employer would want to hire me.

So Mr. Manny Villar, why should I hire you based on your once upon a time poverty? I would want to hire you based on how you made it out of poverty but you ain't telling are you? Thought so.

So then how about telling us what you plataformas are? All I see are ducks and shrimp and audition videos.

Back in school, way way back in elementary, high school and college, during campaign period, we had to profess our platforms of government in front of the student body several times a week. We had to answer questions whether intelligent or not. We had to revise our platforms based on the pulse of the people we were to serve. And that was just running for student council.

Mr. Villar, among many others, is a victim of twisted politics, but boy is he a very willing victim.

My dear presidentiables, this is not about your entertainment value, this is not about your ratings, this is not culminating to you winning a gold phallic award.

This is about your capacity to pull together a nation that is demoralized by injustice and natural disasters. A nation made numb by what's on TV.

This is about how your platforms are absorbed, understood and welcomed by the people you will live for in the next years of service.

This is about the nation rising above its current desultory state.

Get your act together and throw that damn act out the door. The people deserve more than a carnival act from an aspiring leader.

And do you know something else? 30 seconds on the idiot box? What does that make you?

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Become a fan?

Fri, 27 Nov 2009 02:23:51 -0800

Justice for Ampatuan Massacre. Become a fan?

No, thank you.

Fan page of Justice for Ampatuan Massacre. Visit fan page?

No, thank you.

There is something wrong with creating a "fan page" for victims of whatever injustice.

It dumps a celebrity image to the victim and the offender. Fan being a term used largely in entertainment and barely if ever, in courts of law.

The victim and the offender, now judged by their entertainment value, is subject to the same critical theory applied to celebrities. Said critical theory being very liberal, volatile, and explosive. With no requirements in terms of thought, research and informed and educated opinions. Exclusive, explosive, expose. Paris Hilton skirt upshots. Bianca Gonzales' underarm color.

Justice for Ampatuan Massacre. Add comment?

Now who can say no to that? It costs nothing. Just takes a few dips on the keyboard and a click of the mouse and you're comment is there for the world to see.

My suggestion, since this is happening anyway, and there's no stopping the fan phenomenon, then let's at least invite the people whose comments do matter and go beyond the celebrity critical theory of the moment. Let's say let us ask the presidentiables is they'd like to add a comment or become a fan. These are the people who we should demand a comment from. Damn them.

There's only one saving grace for the uneducated and mis or uninformed brain farts now posted online, at least they have something to say, at least now we know how ignorant most of the population are of the realities in this country.

Whatever happened to information dissemination, to education...

Oh yes, we don't have enough schools, we can't afford to send our children to school, we don't have affordable adult education.

We have infomercials informing us of political candidates, very informative.

We have informative tarpaulins plastered all around the metro (Drive Safely. A message from Jiggo Garcia) but we can't provide textbooks.

We have beautification projects, pinks and blues and polygons, but we don't have a, hell I'm saying this, we don't have a beautiful mind.

The CNN hero is a filipino who carts his own school to teach street children. Ironic isn't it?

One man making more good than a whole roster of government officials.

Education.

If only the Ampatuan private army were educated enough, they would not have been so easily brainwashed into doing those acts, if only there was another option, a better option to feed and clothe their families, perhaps they would not have needed to hide under the skirts of a backward artificial society whose ideology crumbles when questioned.

If only Ampatuan himself was debriefed of all the past, his families' past, if only we had a place where "peace talk" is not merely a euphemism for under-the-table agreements between warring factions.

I am not a fan. I am not a fan of the Ampatuan Massacre victims. Ako ay kaisa nila sa kanilang pakikibaka. Ako ay tutulong sa laban sa alam kong gawin, sa pagsusulat at pagsisiwalat ng maliliit na katotohanan, sa pagsita ng maling kamalayan.

Ako ay kaisa.

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Madness in Mindanao

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 21:01:21 -0800

I don't know what to tell people here in Manila when they ask me why hell broke loose in Mindanao. It's contrary to all the stories I've told them, about a peaceful and green countryside and a small city where black and white mingle like centrifuged oil and water. Come on, Manila has the higher frequency of deaths due to petty gang wars than the deaths in Mindanao. But sadly, my explanations fall flat, my stories are left powerless to defend the truth within them. I feel I can only give primitive reasons to the current situation. Primitive because it looks to the past for vindication. It hurts to have to defend a place and a people you have come to love and call as home. My blood is a river of at least two tributaries, one of God and one of Allah. Why am I being asked to choose when I have long decided to celebrate both? This is no time for a brick wall, straight lines and contrasts. This is the time to face forward, reach out, overcome, and complement. If our elders are escaping into the past, then let us rise and move to fix our future, habang may bukas pang pwedeng ayusin at paghandaan.

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I'll try

Sun, 19 Jul 2009 09:43:34 -0700

2001, SM Cinema, Peterpan, my freshnmen year, I was watching the movie and crying eyes out.

I am not a child now,
I can take care of myself.
I must not let them down now,
must not let them see me cry.
I´m fine, I´m fine.

I´m to tired to listen,
I´m to old to believe, all this childish stories.
There is no such thing as faith,
mhmmm trust, and pixie dust.

I´ll try, but it´s so hard to believe.
I´ll try, but I can´t see what you see.
I´ll try, I´ll try, I´ll try!

My whole world is changing,
I don´t know where to turn.
I can´t leave you waiting,
but I can´t steer and watch the city burn
mhm watch it burn.

Cause I´ll try, but it´s so hard to believe.
I´ll try, but I can´t see what you see.
I´ll try, I´ll try,
I´ll try and try to understand the distance in between.
The love I feel, the things I fear.
And a single dream.

I can finally see it,
now I have to believe.
All those precious stories,
all the the world is made of faith,
and trust and pixie dust.

So I´ll try,
cause I finally believe.
I´ll try,
cause I can see what you see!
I´ll try, I´ll try.
I will try, I´ll try to fly!

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