The Sandra Universe

Hello again darlings!

2013-09-18T02:58:00.000+08:00

I haven't had access to the blog for months now. Since I moved to Korea I couldn't get to authenticate my account because up until this moment, two months and counting, I have not bought myself a phone.

In part I blame it on my stubbornness ( I really don't need a new phone because mine works better and I do fine with WiFi practically everywhere!) and my pretentious knack for being the "blacksheep" in the group (I'm the only one now without a phone which annoys the heck out of my friends and coordinators.) But if it means anything, I do imagine the practicality of having a phone (with a Korean simcard) especially if I unfortunately get into an accident and said accident happens in a vacuum without WiFi. How do I ask for help? I think over that scenario again and again and well, it's pretty much ends in an image of me left for dead on the side of the street. Obviously, I do actually think about that simcard, day in and day out.

I still don't have a simcard by the way. I borrowed a friend's number. I never figured to do this because I had a theory that Google Police might find out and eat my friend's GMail account for using the same number for two accounts. Now this turns out to be a spineless theory. Google let me in.

I have posted photos and updates on my Instagram and I linked it to all my other platforms except this one because it was practically dead. This probably means that I've spewed my gore all over the Internet without you, my dear follower, knowing about it. I'm sorry I was too afraid of the Google police.

But here I am now.

What's up?

Why I Write About Films

2013-06-06T16:47:00.000+08:00

I remember a few years ago, I had just transferred to a university in Manila and was spending a good deal of time with a guy from grade school. I can't recall what film it was we were talking about but he made a comment about why it is that some people felt the need to criticize a film. "Can't you just enjoy it?" he asked. I understood this comment as “couldn't a person just like it or not like it and be quiet about it?” or something to that effect.

Of course they can. I just can’t keep quiet about it, about anything. Ask any of my friends. I really talk nonstop. ^^

Kidding aside, it's not really that I don't like to "just enjoy" films or that I take pleasure in masochistically obsessing on every possible, perhaps misguided, interpretation to each strobe of light or five-second deathly silence in between lengthy bursts of dialogue. I admit it can be a bit exhausting to have to watch movies with a critical eye for aesthetics or wordplay, among others. But all of those I really only notice under two very simple pretexts: (1) when they don't feel right and/or (2) when they're so good they make me feel trippy.

I had wondered several times why I bother. But the longer I thought about it the clearer it seemed to me that it was less because I needed people to see the movie the same way I did or to feel whatever personal connection with a character as I may have felt. My need to write about movies comes from this inexplicable desire to start a conversation about the experience of sitting through two full hours of cinematic glory (or cinematic bullshit depending on your taste). The filmmaker makes the film, critics make a comment, critics of critics make their comments = dialogue. Any which of these comments do not change the nature of the film but it magnifies the meaning(s) insinuated by it.

I refuse to settle with the idea that movies are made just for mere entertainment. You may simply be so entertained that you forget to do the extra hustle of understanding the morale of the story. Every story has a morale, at least that’s what we’re told every night when we’re read one to sleep. Every story teaches you something somehow. That is the truth I hold for films or any form of art for that matter. This is not to say you cannot choose otherwise, you can, absolutely.

Films make you feel things you never will on the realm of your own personal everyday reality. They make you swoon and hate and laugh and cry in ways you have never swoon or hated or laugh or cried before. It’s an irony, I find, how some people feel more human when they see films. Any form of art requires a message that needs to be so hauntingly beautiful it stays with the audience for an extended period of time. When a message stays with you long enough it changes you and that’s the end every artist aspires for.

I’m no filmmaker but I have great compassion for the medium and believe that with every review I write, I am contributing to the overall imprint of the experience it seeks to share. This is what I hope to be, an element in the whole process; a small, insignificant one maybe, but still part of the experience.

Oh I also prefer to write about dated films, some unheard of but really worth watching therefore lobbying for.

Searching for Sugarman (2012)

2013-06-04T16:33:00.000+08:00

A story that proves that the United States does not hold a monopoly of success in the music industry, Searching for Sugarman is a documentary that chronicles the search of a mysterious musician who was unheard of, in fact a flop, in the United States but was considered as someone "more popular than Elvis" in the opposite side of the world.

In the 70's, Sixto Rodriguez' life had followed the proverbial blueprint of most rock icons. According the producers of his first album, they first heard him sing in a bar in Detroit with his back against the audience. It was dark and smoke filled the room. All they sawa was his silhouette and all they could hear was the strumming of his guitar and his voice. "It was a good effect" they said. It made the audience pay attention to the lyrics of his songs. He was so good and so different than any of his contemporaries that he was immediately offered a two-album record deal by Sussex Records. Unfortunately, he was a flop, in the United States at least. He was dropped from the label and disappeared from the music industry for good.

Unknown to Rodriguez, a few years after the release (and immediate failure) of his album, he had begun to grow a cult following in Capetown, South Africa. His songs had become a symbol that inspired hope and change amidst the worsening conditions brought by the apartheid. While his songs was shooting him into becoming the biggest rockstar in Capetown history, he remained in his humble home in Detroit, living a simple life raising his family and earning from his work in construction.

Rodriguez' remarkable gift with music and poetic lyricism was explored in the film in a subtle yet excited way; gripping enough to keep you glued to your seat until you reach the very end of the story. Thoughtfully scored with crowd-favorite songs from his two albums, the film treats the audience with an honest lyrical account of his struggles and experiences as a young musician who spent his nights on the cold streets of Detroit.

Rich with archival footage, the film's visuals wreaked of a nostalgia from the 70s that would seem familiar to even the most passive fans of music from that era. You know those images of an audience with bodies and arms swaying softly side to side, their eyes closed, mouthing off lyrics together with their much-revered musical demi-god who is performing on stage? You see that in every film with a concert but watching Rodriguez fans brought a different kind of goosebump; the hauntingly good kind. This especially because the film takes you through the whole search from the point of view of one of his biggest fans whose nickname "Sugar" proves exactly that fact.

But more than the carefully arranged investigative, fact-finding plot and the heart-warming aesthetics, what draws audiences to this story is Rodriguez himself and the personality behind his iconic enigma, his soul in fact, which proved even more magnetic than his artistic genius. His humility reaches out from the screen and metaphorically hugs you where you're seated.

If not out of curiosity for having won one too many awards since its release, Searching For Sugarman is a worthwhile story to sit through because it carries you through a journey that explains that success transcends the limits that money, fame and celebrity determine. More importantly, it reminds us that individuals who are passionate about what they do, do not always require the glorified limelight to inspire.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rating: 5/5

Written, Directed and Edited by: Malik Benjelloul

Written by Neil Cross, Mr. Muschietti and Barbara Muschietti,

Released by: Sony Pictures

Running time: 1 hour 25 minutes.

Love, Some Advice

2013-05-27T17:58:00.000+08:00

Too many friends pouring their crazy lately and somehow I find myself saying the same thing over and over. I just wanted to share this in case you too feel the need to understand what needs to be done when hard decisions come by in a moment your asked to choose between whose feelings are more important, yours or the other person's.

My only real solution to everything involving relationships is to look out for yourself first before you go into a selflessness-spree. It is the only way you can sincerely and genuinely give whatever variation or degree of love you have buried inside your precious little self. In a sense, yes, be selfish. It's an oxymoron: to be truly selfless one must be selfish. It makes sense, give it a few seconds.

Otherwise known as the adage I will probably always begin with when you ask me for advice on cryptic nudges of love...

"I don't know this kind of love that you have for him/her or what otherworldly happiness you two share but it will always boil down to what you're willing to put up with and what you think you deserve. If you think you can handle more of this kind of behavior or you think you can wait until the bullshitting stops then fine. It's your decision. Who cares what I say. What i say is shit. Haha"

Kidding aside, I like when people come to me for advice. I appreciate the fact that they think I would have something worthy to say and that they trust me enough to listen (I do by the way and always will). Again, this doesn't refer to one person specifically but to everyone who has ever found themselves in this kind of situation.

Love is the mother of all oxymoron: joy and pain, freedom and restraint, selfish and selfless, it's life and death. I can go on and on and this note will get even cornier then it started. I'm sure you get it.

Pearl Island, Eastern Samar

2013-03-01T14:14:00.003+08:00

As if I haven't Instagrammed enough, here I chronicle my trip to one of the most beloved snorkeling sites in Eastern Samar.

With the help of my mom's trusty friends, my friends and I were able to stay overnight at the Pearl Island in Guiuan Eastern Samar. I'm sure most of the folks in the region know about the area but as for the rest of the world, it is a pearl farm just west off the coast of Guiuan. To get to Guiuan however, you need to drive for three to four hours from Tacloban City and suffer through a few bumpy roads along the way. It can be a bit exhausting but you'll know the trip was worth it once you lay eyes on the beauty of the island.

From the port of Guiuan, we took a pump boat which charged P500 per trip which totals P1000 to and from the island. All we had to do was agree on a time for them to pick us up the next day.

It took about 30 to 45 minutes for us to get to the island. It was also near dusk so we enjoyed a pretty good view of the sunset. When we got to the island, we met Kuya Igoi who was a part-time caretaker of the island (under the BFAR) and a full-time fisherman. He said his stint took turns with two or three guys. It was so windy when we got there and he said that it wasn't always like that; it was especially calm during the summer.

It didn't take long for us to tour around the island since it was fairly small (2000 square meters!). After we took photos and explored the facilities ( I went all the way up to the tower and it was scary up there because of all the wind!), we hurriedly gathered our things to prepare dinner. There was no electricity in the island except for the fluorescent lights in the rooms powered by solar panels and we didn't want to be cooking dinner blind in the dark. We borrowed a flashlight from Kuya Igoi and made barbecue.

We didn't have to set up camp (we brought tents) because of the wind and we found out we could just sleep on the floor of the main office. We could borrow some bed sheets but we would have to pay P50 for each so the caretakers could have them washed for the next batch of visitors. We opted to skip the pillows and just get with the full-on island experience! More fun that way anyway. :)

There was not much to do on the island since it was pitch dark and the wind was getting worse. I actually thought there was going to be a storm and was scared we'd be stuck there for days. Before I fell asleep I kept imagining how we were going to survive for the next few days if we got stuck and no one came to get us. Fortunately, there was no storm and the next day was just perfectly sunny!

Also known as Kantican Island, this pearl farm was put up by the government as an experiment developed in 1972 by the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources (BFAR). It hosts 52-hectare fish sanctuary and is popular for those who enjoy snorkeling and scuba diving. Going there would kind of also be an educational trip too because the caretakers tell you about the island's history and the place is filled with information on pearls and how they are formed.

The caretakers usually warn that only those who can swim are allowed on the water since there are corals all over the shores of the island. If you didn't know how to swim you might wind up stepping on them. Some of these corals are sharp and are can be very itchy. I never really claimed I knew hot to swim but it turns out I'm a pretty wicked snorkler and wound up enjoying myself (at least in the shallow parts of the sea Haha!).

We were only allowed to go to the deeper parts of the ocean on a white raft. Kuya Igoi was nice enough to take us to the part where the giant clams where and my were they ginormous (and funky-colored too!). He said that most visitors aren't allowed to swim in those areas because they might get accidentally step on the clams, get caught by them and drown. "You can't swim your way up because they're too heavy so you'll definitely drown" he said.

The fishes there were just ridiculously colorful (neon-green fins, c'mon!) and we could tell, even from the surface that they were wildly pretty. We couldn't swim in those parts so we just watched them from the surface.

We had to leave early the next day to check out the surf camp in Calicoan. It was a very brief stay but still beyond enjoyable. It was kind of nice to be secluded ----no phones, no internet, just friends, amazing fish, humongous clams and the beach.

If you have time, visit the island. It would be best to allocate at least four days for the trip so you can really enjoy yourself. We stayed there for maybe just 18 hours, half of which we were asleep because of the crazy wind. It could've been a great night to gaze at the stars but the clouds were so stubborn and it was freezing!

They say its best to go there during the summer when the weather is calmer. But windy or not, it's still a breathtaking place so better book those trips and experience the wonder for yourself! :D

---

Additional info:

Van from Tacloban to Guiuan P150/person (P300 including return trip)

Motorcycle from town proper to port of Guiuan P7

Pump boat: P500/ trip (P1000k to and from the island back to port of Guiuan)

Reminders:

1. Before you go on the trip, secure a permit from the local BFAR. They would need to approve your overnight stay to avoid crowding the island with too many visitors.

2. There is no food, drinking or electricity on the island. Charge up batteries, bring flashlights, food and drinking water. They're also very strict with garbage so be sure to bring garbage bags so you can clean up after yourselves. You can wash up and take a bath on the island but the water they use there is mainly collected rainwater, not safe for drinking.

Mama (2013)

2013-02-18T17:41:00.001+08:00

I've only recently begun to enjoy watching horror flicks on the big screen. I tend to watch with particular interest on the technical aspects of how filmmakers build up the big scare. I absolutely love the jolt-off-the-seat reaction when something immediately pops up the screen after five long seconds of quiet and I find myself laughing after. So I really tend to look at horror films as comedies. Much like Cabin in the Woods which I absolutely loved not because it was downright haunting but because the plot was unexpectedly amusing.

Mama, however, is a different deal altogether.

The film begins with a distraught father picking up his children after the death of their mother. He speedily drives 3-year-old Victoria (Megan Charpentier) and 1-year-old Lillie (Isabelle Nellise) away from home when the car swerves off the road. They survive and take the children to an abandoned cabin. Not knowing what else to do, he pulls out a gun to kill his daughters when suddenly a mysterious figure swoops him from behind and kills him. The children are left to the care of this ghost who we later get to know as the proverbial Mama.

The kids survived feeding off cherries and the occasional rats as told by the paintings on the walls of the cabin. They spent five years abandoned in that cabin until they were found by two men hired by their uncle Lucas (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) who later on took them into custody together with his girlfriend Anabel (Jessica Chastain).

Together they raise the girls inside a house provided by the hospital where they are taken care of. Dr. Dreyfuss (Daniel Kash) takes a particular interest in the case with a theory that Mama is a creation of Victoria's mind. But soon, they find out that the girls are being haunted by a ghost they believe to be their mother.

Guillermo Del Toro definitely did not disappoint. I have nothing but respect for the brilliant direction they took especially with the two child actors who did brilliantly alongside their more experience counterparts. I was swept away by Isabelle Nellise's performance as Lillie.

Chastain as a goth took some time to digest but along the way it started not to matter so much if her tattoos convinced or not.

I wasn't a big fan of the ending. Well, so were the six other people I sat within earshot. When they revealed what it was that kept Mama from peacefully crossing to the afterlife they humanized her and we all share some sympathy for her plight. The audience is led to believe that the lost soul could have resolved her unfinished business on one condition which later on fails to fulfill its purpose and just confuses the plot. It would've been more acceptable if everyone was left to their own paths, not necessarily happily ever after, but not as miserable as one that would now require a production of a movie called "Lillie" (inside joke, watch the movie). Mama trying to get Anabel to sleep while she tries to deviously take her "daughters" to the after life was hilarious to watch (another inside joke., sorry).

But ending and a couple of funny bits aside, I really enjoyed how the scare and supernatural was built up and put together.

Aside. I watched this in one of the older movie houses in the metro that was exceptionally huge and it was almost empty because the movie had already run for a couple of weeks before. There were two rows of people watching it with us and we sat close enough to each other to enjoy one another's running narratives. I would have hated to hear side comments on any other movie but somehow watching with nervous but equally-humored folks seemed all the more entertaining. We yelped and gasped all together and it definitely added to the experience.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Rating: 4/5

Directed by Andy Muschietti

Written by Neil Cross, Mr. Muschietti and Barbara Muschietti,

Released by Universal Pictures.

Running time: 1 hour 49 minutes.

On Love

2013-02-14T10:41:00.001+08:00

There is a line that is drawn between self-love and love for another. You cannot possibly cross over to the latter without being at peace with the former. I think you should have a complete understanding of who you are and the things that matter to you most before you are able to share a part of yourself with another person.

I think you should learn to be comfortable around yourself, warts and all, before you can expect another person to accept you in every possible way. This may seem like an ideal to some folks; a goal to be aspired but never really reached. We are not perfect beings and we shouldn't try to nitpick each other’s faults. But it truly takes a self-evolved person to make worthy and sensible compromises with someone you care for. When you care for yourself, you will have the best judgment, that harmony of heart and mind that will bring you closer to people you can love and who will love you back not necessarily as much, maybe less or even more. Never as much. And, when we are surrounded by all this love, we become better people to the world.

Love requires an extreme kind of selflessness that not a lot of people care to explore. “Love is patient, love is kind” an adage says. For me, the truest kind of love means giving even when you get nothing in return.

This applies to every kind of love possible in the universe. Most people tend to overemphasize romantic love on Valentine’s but this special day is dedicated to each and every person you care for; your neighbors, classmates, teachers, workmates, friends and family, practically everyone. There’s a kind of freedom you acquire when you think of love as something that’s generic; intense yet permeable and truly contagious. It's magic, really and is one of those things I try to celebrate every waking day of my life with friends and family. You should too.

Happy heart's day everyone!

Review: Away We Go (2009)

2013-02-03T11:16:00.001+08:00

Burt (John Krasinski) and Verona (Maya Rudolph) were perfectly contented living the life of a resolute unmarried couple. They both enjoy working from their mobile home since he works as a insurance guy who makes his deals on the phone and she works as a part-time illustrator. Their life felt like a sloppy overextended college slash dorm type of living and they were fine up until she gets pregnant. Feeling slightly panicky about the impending possibility of becoming parents to an actual child, they adult up and go on a cross country road trip to try and find a good enough home to start their family.

Along the way they run into old friends who, in their own right, have come to raise their own families. With each encounter the couple begin to realize what kinds of parents they want to be and the kind of life they want to pursue.

I like the idea that there was absolutely nothings neurotic or perfect about the characters of Burt and Verona. This was probably some kind of latent celebration of imperfection. They were jobless and scared-shitless about being "fuck-ups" or not being good enough parents but they kept the fight. The roadtrip was a parallel of the journey we have to succumb through in life and how difficult it can be but how we can also triumph when we are surrounded with the right people and a good amount of love.

It broke my heart every time he proposed to her and she responded with a cold "never". I could not understand how she could refuse such a charming and dedicated man but her quirks become clearer towards the end of the film.

My favorite part was that dialogue they had on top of the trampoline one night when Burt was ranting about why it's unfair that his niece was going to suffer a horrible life without a mother because the latter divorced her father. I like how Verona sums up the shitty aspect of the world about being unfair and that the only thing we can really do is be the best parents we can be to this one child; the child they were having. I especially liked the witty vows they made to each other.

Burt: Do you promise to let our daughter be fat or skinny or any weight at all? Because we want her to be happy, no matter what. Being obsessed with weight is just too cliché for our daughter.

Verona: Yes, I do. Do you promise, when she talks, you'll listen? Like, really listen, especially when she's scared? And that her fights will be your fights?

Burt: I do. And do you promise that if I die some embarrassing and boring death that you're gonna tell our daughter that her father was killed by Russian soldiers in this intense hand-to-hand combat in an attempt to save the lives of 850 Chechnyan orphans?

Verona: I do. Chechnyan orphans. I do. I do.

I absolutely find that as an inspiring lesson to carry with you. You can never be perfect and all of life's miseries will fail you but you cannot give into the ugly. Have a good sense of humor. Be sensible. Be with the right kind of people. Love. Always remember: everyone else is scared shitless too. You'll be fine.

Ode to Facebook

2013-02-01T13:02:00.000+08:00

Last night a friend of mine pulled a bet that I wouldn't last a month without being on Facebook. "Even a day would be hard" he muttered. I teased him to dare me and without a shred of hesitation, he exclaimed DARE! (What a jerk! Haha)

I'm quite the status-junkie. I share the most mundane but perceptively amusing conversations I have with friends and family. I even started a #mombeeseries which chronicles my conversations with my mom which most of my friends find entertaining enough to warrant some attention. I write on my wall everyday. I chat with my friends. I like and comment on people's pages. I'm always hyped and all over the place. So yes, the plethora of dares and challenges about limiting my activity on Facebook was as natural as coconuts in a tropical country. It was always in my face and because I take actual delight in other people's weird standards for pleasure, there was a great chance I'd take the bait.

In between conversations I would insert questions about the rules."So I can be on Instagram and Twitter right?" I asked curiously as if I was about to give up a toe. We were laughing the whole time but I was dead serious. I don't believe anyone in the world has been seriously injured from Facebook withdrawal.

I just find it funny though. The other day I was wondering about how cool it was that with all my imprint online, I would have enough material to weave a story for my nephew (or my kids if I ever have any) in the future. I could pass on to the next life but my Facebook page would have immortalized my life; who I was (and still am) to the world even if that world only briefly meant my friends and family. My thoughts will be frozen; how I talked to my folks, how I kept in touch, the values I echoed and basically how I was as a person: imperfect, fragile, but a worthy enough example of how to be a decent person. Isn't that a wonder? How a person can get to know you, without trying so hard? It's kind of creepy too but I'd prefer to think of it more as good thing.

We capped the night without really getting into the nitty-gritty of my departure from my digital pseudo-journal. But I still found it curious so even without really ironing out the rewards of the bet, I went ahead and temporarily froze my account anyway.

I wonder what my friends' walls would be like without my crazy. It would be a much quieter space I suppose. As for me, I look forward to more real-time conversations with friends and lengthier emails to my folks at home. For whatever it's worth, I think it's more sincere when people actually put an effort into keeping in touch outside of the convenience of the wretched Like button.

We'll see where this takes me. Here's to taking time to smell the roses.

Cheers!

Little Photo: Multiple Exposures

2013-01-25T13:47:00.002+08:00

HELLO 2013!

This year begins with a lot of tinkering. I've owned an Android phone for maybe two years now but I only recently started playing around with apps. Blame it on my iPhone-frenzied friends who keep on showing off brilliant apps from Apple. Naturally, I scoured internetdome for some of Android's best apps and found a precious gem by the name of Little Photo. Obviously, I went crazy with the multiple exposures feat. It's fairly easy to use and guess what? It's absolutely FREE!

How to make multiple exposures with Little Photo:

1. Open the app and select an initial image you want to use by clicking the rightmost icon which leads you straight to your gallery. If you wish you can also click the middle icon which is the app's camera, to take a new snapshot.

2. Once you have your image, click the original photo and toolbar will appear on the rightmost section of your screen, go to Tools and select Multiple Expo.

3. Select a second image to put over your initial image. You can adjust the level of exposure on the photo by using the "tune" and "apply" panels that will appear on your screen.

Easy breezy! Have fun!

2012: An Ode

2012-12-31T21:40:00.000+08:00

Keeping the faith

I haven't written anything in a long while because I truly have been at a loss for words. This has been a wonderful year for me. Wonderful in every possible aspect except material gain which still, quite oddly, I find tremendously grateful for. I traveled and experienced several firsts, I personally conversed with my my childhood heroes and I've received a valuable feedback for my creative work. My heart is full and I find that such a sense of contentment is the best gift anyone can ask for because it is when we feel the most fulfilled that we feel useful; that we find meaning.

ODE

It's only about a few hours more before this year comes to a close. I try to think of a sensible goodbye to what has been, quite possibly, the most transforming year of my life. Nothing substantially awesome happened to me in terms of what society would deem a success. I didn't win any awards. I didn't get promoted. I didn't get engaged or married or gave birth to a beautiful baby. I didn't have any of those “rags to riches” tales that eventually get aired on TV. I didn't get published. I also didn't get a gazillion followers on Twitter.

But without any shred of hypocrisy or pretense I declare, that this year, I've experienced an intellectual and emotional growth spurt not a lot of people get to actualize in my (mental) age.

We had a great run, you and I. I loved you so much I would probably eat a thousand and one okras to do everything all over again with the same level of enthusiasm and boldness. I still can’t believe that even with my almost nil swimming ability, you let me jump off a plank to plunge headfirst to the gorgeous blue sea in Puerto Princesa. Twice.

In fact, while we’re at it, I can’t believe I went to a non-English speaking country without an itinerary and actually had the best time of my life.

I also can’t believe that on the very same non-English speaking country I spent an entire morning alone on a beach where I could have been easily abducted by extraterrestrials or wiped clean of the face of the earth by a tsunami.

I can’t believe Dr. Francisco Nemenzo let me sit in his Politics and Revolutions class and gave me a passing grade.

I can’t believe I met Maria Ressa for an interview and told her I used to watch her on CNN and thought “there she is, a Filipina on CNN. It is possible.” That may have probably freaked her out a bit but she still tweets me so I guess not so much.

I can’t believe I have friends who actually volunteer to participate in my photoshoots for an indeterminate portfolio.

I can’t believe people would take my word about love and relationships when I have no known credible record of an actual romantic past.

I can't believe I saw Foster the People live in concert and sang with them the whole time even when I was probably off key and messed up their lyrics.

I can’t believe I accidentally killed my father’s fishes when all my brother and I wanted was to clean the freaking aquarium to give them a better home.

I can’t believe I find the incident amusing enough I actually want to write it into short film.

I can’t believe you made it this far into this conversation but I truly appreciate your sense of humor.

As you can tell, there is a lot of disbelief in many of the things I did with my time. Everything I felt, smelt, heard and saw have been constantly and unbelievably surreal. In fact, you have probably earned complete rights to that title of being the “Most Surreal Year of My Life…so far” provided that the succeeding years would breathe other shades of awesome into my record.

I've had absolute fun and will always remember the fine things you've taught me. I've summed it into five bits, that is:

(1) Travel.

(2) Doodle.

(3) Be with the people who make you laugh the most.

(4) Listen.

(5) Be good to yourself.

Well, this is the simplified version. I've written about all of these extensively throughout the year. In all, I feel I've become more self-aware which I believe is the first triumph anyone can have before they move forward. I am beyond grateful for my renewed sense of being. It actually is quiet overwhelming.

Thank you for beautifully marking the beginning of the rest of my life.

Review: Bwakaw [2012]

2012-11-11T22:22:00.005+08:00

“Malungkot ba ang mag-isa?”

Is it sad to be alone?

This is the central theme envisaged in Jun Robles Lana’s Bwakaw, a top contender for this year’s Foreign Language Film category at the Oscars.

Written and directed by Lana himself, Bwakaw tells a story of Rene (Eddie Garcia), a 70-year-old gay man whose grouchy character leaves him with but a few friendships none of which he seems to really enjoy except the one with his dog, Bwakaw (Princess). Without any family left to care for him, Rene goes about his daily routine: showing up to work at the local post office (even when he’s already retired), getting a haircut from his childhood friend Zaldy (Soxie Topacio), visiting his ex-girlfriend Alicia (Armida Siguion-Reyna) at a home and going to church to see a priest who he has entrusted as the executor of his last will.

I found the lines with Sigiuon-Reyna the most striking.

Accepting his homosexuality too late in his life, Rene was pretty much disinterested in romantic love. He refused the teenage boys Zaldy would jokingly send him as gifts. He visited Alicia out of guilt and often apologized for having built a relationship with her based on a lie. It was with Alicia however that he felt most at home.

He was settled and often amused himself by sleeping in his own coffin once or twice in the film. Soon however, he discovers his loyal canine companion has cancer and things start to go on a different turn.

At the onset of the film, we see Rene’s bullheaded disbelief in God juxtaposed with the pietism of his well-meaning neighbor who insists in the miracles of the Santo Entierro – a religious affinity common among Filipinos. But when confronted by the possibility of his dog passing away ahead of him, we see Rene subtly accede to this divine he once strongly contested.

Known for the macho characters he plays in his previous films, Garcia effortlessly exudes the strong exterior of Rene’s character and yet remains affecting. Scenes that depict his anger were especially jolting; the kind that would zap traumatic images of a Grandpa ready to give you a whipping. But as proof of his brilliance as an actor, he likewise draws tears from the audience in the moments when he feels most scared and helpless. Alongside Garcia, Princess' seemed to step up to the plate, giving an equally notable performance. In fact, it might actually be the most impressive performance in local canine film history as of yet. Haha

Outrageously funny at some parts and yet effectively dark in others, Bwakaw draws in its audience by its genuine take on the subtle tragicomedy of what it’s like to be old and full of regret, spending days making-up for a life spent too cautiously. Lana bravely and effectively intertwines many themes into a single screenplay without being too heavy. Although there were certainly dashes of stereotypes here and there, I believe that apart from adding color to the film's conversations, they were balanced and justified. There was no attempt to sugarcoat the queer. It was there, in your face and it felt fair.

Bwakaw ultimately explores the manner in which the protagonist helplessly and vicariously comes into terms with his mortality. We witness how Rene gives life another chance when he forms an unexpected friendship and unrequitedly falls inlove with a tricycle driver named Sol (Rez Cortez). We carefully watch how he finally, at age 70, braves his way into the doorstep of the great labyrinth of love and life. It is quite an interesting journey in a way that it gives its audience a sense of fulfillment; that, whether we see the aftermath of Rene's endeavors as one that's inspiring or debilitating, we celebrate with him anyway.

Review: This Must Be The Place [2012]

2012-11-02T23:33:00.004+08:00

Don't let Sean Penn's Ed Scissorhand-like hair and dark make up fool you, this story of an ex-rockstar's existential woes evolves without too much nudity, blood or gore. There is a significant amount of emotionless cussing but that's just about as much violent as the film can get.

This Must Be The Place shares a surprisingly witty screenplay which unearths some serious subplots on themes such as love, loss and longing but eventually returns to the protagonist ---- how he makes sense of his pseudo mid-life crisis and the experiences of the people around him.

Cheyenne (Sean Penn) is a former frontman of a massively successful rock-band who has chosen to retire for unspecified reasons and now lives on a ridiculously luxurious mansion up the hills of Dublin with his wife Jane (Frances MacDormand) who works as a firefighter. Dressed like a goth, he spends his mornings buying groceries and eating breakfast with his teenage friend Mary (Bono's real-life daughter a.k.a Eve Hewson) who he tries to fix up with a boy who unfortunately is more of a Mariah Carey fan.

He gets sucked out of the usual routine when he learns of the death of his father who he has not spoken to in twenty years or so. The news brings him back to New York and later on learns of his father's obsessive conquest to seek revenge against the prison guard who caused him so much humiliation in Auschwitz. He takes up his father's "unfinished business" and seeks out the said persecutor.

At the onset we sense the film's depressing tone as if it's about to tell a tragic story of bitter and lonely man. Later we realize that albeit Cheyenne's deadpan face, he is quite a satisfied little ex-rockstar who is happily married to his firefighting wife. The pace of the movie felt incredibly slow perhaps at pace with Cheyenne's walking about dragging his stroller behind him. One of the more notable outbursts in the film was in a conversation with David Byrne when Cheyenne revealed the primary cause of anguish that has been haunting him ever since his rockstar heydays. Penn gave a jolting bout of emotion which was hard to miss when looking back at the film's entirety.

Mr. Sorrentino is widely known for the black-comedy masterpiece he created in 2009 entitled Il Divo. While most critics felt the immediate disappointment when comparing such a film to This Must Be The Place, I felt that the latter's creation can and must be appreciated from a different creative sphere.

Admittedly, This Must Be The Place felt much of a hodge-podge of plots all anchored in the soul-searching journey by the protagonist. But it is quite a cinematic treat, with Sorrentino's signature visuals taking center stage: stunning cinematography with bright-lit shots, close-ups and wide angles. I'm still quite taken by the way Sean Penn breathed life into the character of Cheyenne with the kind of precision only he could probably pull off. I feel, that although it would be a lot for Penn's acting to compensate for the entire film, it did a lot to pull the plot out of the grave it dug itself into.

Like I said earlier, I liked the screenplay not for its dramatic and failed attempt to be anything related to the Holocaust but for the insipid yet witty lines it throws at the audience intermittently, few of which posed mundane things that deserve some serious thinking.

This Must Be The Place is not the most notable film under Sorrentino or Penn's belt but it surely deserves credit for some wit and visual fancy.

"Be your own condom"

2012-10-27T09:20:00.002+08:00

I was talking to a friend of mine who recently got into a relationship and told him one of the most puzzling advice I could ever give another person "be your own condom".

After I said it, I waited for a few seconds before the words dissipated into thin air. I sat there waiting for the murderous follow-up question which I had not planned to explain because of the premature assumption that the phrase was self-explanatory.

"Be your own condom was what you said Sandra" I told myself. I had officially run out of words and chose to use condom in place of more church-appropriate jargon.

Without waiting for the stupid follow-up question, I just broke the silence and went on.

The only real advice I could give to a person who has just found love is to "try not to hurt yourself" or "be good to yourself".

Off the bat, it does sound a lot selfish. But more often than not, we are the ones who cause the trouble or we cause the falling out. We always have a direct involvement in whatever pain we feel; whatever love we feel. We are responsible for the pain we as much as we are responsible for the love we experience with another soul, genuine or imaginary.

The metaphorical condom can only protect one person from so much but I think I drove the point home. He brought it up a few weeks later and thanked me.

The advice was intended to encompass all the possible figurative shades of making love. It doesn't even have to be the kind of love shared between lovers. It grazes all types of relationships including those we share with friends and family. To love is a conscious decision. To hurt? Somewhat. When you decide to love another person, you also decide on the level of clearance s/he gets to hurt you. It's not a bad thing. It's just that sometimes we tend to attribute the darker part of the equation to an otherworldly force; that somehow it only happens to us and not because we contributed to it.

It would probably take a lot of introspection before we can really tell whether the kind of love we experience is good or bad for us. But in general, I think when the relationship hurts more than it should, it's a no-brainer. When we are good to ourselves, when we experience the kind of love [we think] we deserve, we are happier ergo we become better people.

You're inlove you say? That's absolutely wonderful! Try not to hurt yourself, will you?

Review: Once (2006)

2012-10-23T22:50:00.002+08:00

The intensity of this film is expressed by a healthy combination of a good plot, an honest storytelling settled over a wickedly romantic score. I have no idea how else to describe the impression the story left me but that it was immensely sad and yet it also felt profoundly complete.

There is no happy ending whatsoever and the story allows the audience to come into terms with the fact that what the characters experienced was unsurprisingly human. It was not tragic in a way that would make you want to beg the heavens for a sequel. Well, at least not for me.

Set in Dublin, the story revolves around a friendship that is formed between two unnamed characters that are respectively referred to as "guy" and "girl". Guy sings at a street corner to earn extra above what he makes as a vacuum repairman. Girl watches him and is impressed by one of his songs. She asks who it was written for and why it was written that way. At first guy was annoyed but girl grew on him after they spend an afternoon playing a song together at a music shop. Girl turns out to be a wicked pianist. He falls in love. Sort of.

It's sort of a to and fro from there. Guy asks Girl to make songs with him. At one point Guy asked Girl to write the lyrics to tunes that he had trouble putting words into. One day, Guy decides to record his songs (with Girl's help of course) and go to London to try and make it there.

It's quite an uncomplicated plot and yet it explores a full range of emotions: loneliness - despair- hope- happiness - disappointment and contentment. It's so simple it doesn't really leave you too much to think about, only a few things to feel. Perhaps it was the sadness in the songs or it may just be an overwhelming, emotional kind of empathy that we bear onto the characters. This, assuming you too broke down and cried (or will cry) at some point in the film.

It's also important to note that this was a low-budget film so the treatment felt like watching a documentary which I think did a lot of good. At least, that way, we just sift out the circus and focus on the plot itself.

As a final note, I generally like how films end in a way that leaps twice on over whatever pretentious prediction I might play in my head. I think it was the surprise in the end that truly makes "Once" genuine. A different conclusion would have made the whole plot substandard.

If you haven't, please do watch this film. :)

On "Shitty First Drafts"

2012-10-10T15:09:00.003+08:00

I'm enrolled in Dr. Francisco Nemenzo's class this term on the Politics of Revolutions and I've spent the entire semester trying to digest hair-splitting details of the Russian, Chinese and Cuban revolutions, the last one of which, I was fortunate enough to have been beholden as "the class expert".

"Ms. Cuba" my classmates would call me and with a half-cringing face I force a grin.

A few months back, the professor had announced that the final papers would be due on October 2. Responsible student that I was, I waited till the week before the deadline before I actually started writing my paper and of course this meant countless hours at coffee-shops, half the time just gawking at tables and chairs waiting for an imagined aha moment. I'm one of those defeatists who don't fight the writer's block. I just let it weigh down on my person for as long as it needs to. Of course ADHD would only allow me to do that to a certain extent and by the time I'm bored (about ten minutes into drifting to absentmindedness) I'll be up and about heckling the internet for inspiration.

I crammed the paper with my heart, blood and gore. When we were about to submit it, he sat there and happily announced: "I am extending the deadline to Saturday of next week, that's nine more days from now. You have plenty of time to revise your paper" he said.

He continued "now let me explain why I did that. I wanted to force you to do everything you can to finish the first draft, because it is always the hardest. The second draft? Well, with technology, you can edit on your computer and it's more fun because all you need to do is revise. And, you don't have to write everything down on a piece of paper."

"Do not submit a handwritten paper please. Sometimes the handwriting is so bad I can't understand anything. Everything should be typewritten." he sternly warned.

I find it amusing he'd still think someone would be archaic enough to submit a handwritten paper. I don't know anyone who'd go to write a fifteen-page term paper by hand, I think that's suicide. Well at least death for your fingers.

"That having said, enjoy!" he concluded with a childlike smile on his face, eyes squinting as if to convince us to be amused at the extension as he was.

I was amused, relieved even. That was my first draft and I believe it was the shittiest I've ever written in graduate school. Everything Ann Lamott wrote about writing the first draft, I had gone through with my paper on the Cuban Revolution. It's the weirdest process, destructive and yet transformative.

I'm not sure if it's possible for me to make a super-paper out of the lame one I wrote up a week ago. But by the logic of my professor and Lamott, the process should be easy-breezy.

I just hope they're right.

Mombee: On heartbreaks

2012-10-01T17:14:00.000+08:00

Hi Bing,

First of all, am very glad that the destruction of your world about him came at an age that you are able to hold back emotions that otherwise would betray you, congratulations.

I know it was tough hearing all the positives while feeling guilty about your behavior. Smile girrl your were just given an antidote for your limitations. Ours is a different situation.

I know that someone, somewhere you'll find your partner. Don't despair. Each has a pair. Give yourself time to grow some more.

I love you so that all your experiences the good and the not so good ones are in preparation for a life much better than mine. Keep your head up you have a family that

will lighten up your life.

Love you,

Nanay

The Perks of Being a Wallflower [2012]

2012-09-27T10:36:00.002+08:00

If you think Stephen Chboksy did an amazing job with his best-selling book, you will definitely love the film adaptation of The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

A story that highlights an adolescent's transition from middle to high school, Perks follows the life of Charlie (Logan Lerman) who opens the film with a letter to an anonymous friend about how scared he is about going into his first year high school.

Set at Pittsburgh in the early 90s, Charlie walks into a highschool estranged but eventually finds a friend in his English teacher Mr. Anderson (Paul Rudd) who is impressed by his effortless genius when it came to literature. Later on, he also befriends the quirky pair of Patrick (Ezra Miller) and Sam ( Emma Watson) who he mistakes for a couple but are actually siblings. A colorful friendship blossomed and the siblings him in a rollercoaster ride into the crazy, oft scary, world of adolescence --- basement parties, space cakes, and a whole lot of alternative rock.

Those who have read the book excitedly waited for the scene where the three drive through a tunnel where some of our favorite lines were uttered: "and I swear, in that moment, I felt infinite". Well, I find that there were too many scenes that would pass for a favorite simply because the Chbosky's screenplay took what was in the book and jolted it a notch higher in the film.

Lerman did a gripping depiction of the Charlie's quiet yet full of wonder character. As a sensitive writer in the book/movie, Charlie watches and reads into the lives of his friends and family often retracting into the background akin to, as the title suggests, a harmless wallflower. I personally think it takes a lot of art to pull off Charlie and Lerman did quite a fantastic job in pouring out the sentimental without dragging it to a depressing extent. He was sensitive yet somewhat detached (if that's not complicated I don't know what is!), even after he secretly falls inlove with Sam. Watson portrayed the Sam we all expected --- pretty, fun and honest. There couldn't have been a better choice to portray her.

Oh and Ezra Miller? He was an early favorite. He was the Patrick of every TPBW fan's dream! Openly gay and loud, he always had just the right comedic timing. Whether it was his wild superstar stint at the Rocky Horror Picture Show or the colorful toned-down one-liners (personal favorite: "that's fucked up"), Miller's take on Patrick was wise and witty. Also impressive was his careful shift into a deep kind of seriousness when the scenes called for it.

One of the things I was looking forward to was how they were going to play out the Aunt Helen-in-the-end scene. I don't really want to give that away because this is one of the spikes that hold the story up. Let's just say that at the end of the book it was discovered that Charlie's Aunt Helen actually caused a lot of his anguish growing up. This was beautifully interpreted in the film without the subject being explicit. In fact, the cinematography and editing of the entire film was beyond fluid. I found it simply superb.

I'm not going to tell you to go and read the book first. This film is getting so popular that most kids are probably going to fast forward and just skip the book altogether. But to really be able to appreciate how Chbosky brilliantly and effortlessly breathe life into the characters in his screenplay, it is necessary to read the pages off his novel first. With the right amounts of happy and sad, Perks was a somewhat painful, yet amusing and honest account of the solitary but familiar shades of crazy most of us know as "adolescence".

[Thailand] Hua Hin

2012-09-26T09:00:00.001+08:00

As a follow up to the silly letter I wrote a couple of posts back...

I couldn't get past the fact that I didn't have photos from Hua Hin except for that one of the beach. We only stayed there for a night and some brief hours in the morning and it was raining really hard so taking photos was very difficult.

The great thing is, I finally found photos of Jinning's Guesthouse, the place where we stayed in when we were there. We found the place at random so it wasn't easy to tell people where the "best place in Hua Hin" was or how to get there because even I had no idea how we got there, not really.

We literally got off the van clueless about where to spend the night. We just saw this really big mall and thought, "we start here and just figure things out along the way". I loved that my friend and I were on the same boat when it came to the thrills of randomly going about things, unplanned. Of course some would say it's more expensive that way, but it doesn't always have to be. Besides, it's really more exciting to travel when you just let yourself explore a bit without thinking of any restraints. Well at least for as long as you don't break any rules or get arrested in the process. Haha

It was a newly renovated guesthouse owned by a very accommodating staff. We suspect it was ran by an entire family, siblings of nice people. I regret not having asked for their names.

Anyway, I had this conversation with the brother of the owner. He was kind enough to see us off on our way home. It was raining and we didn't have an umbrella with us so he took his and walked with us to the main road.

"Do you get Filipino guests here often?" I asked.

"We get lots of Westerners, you know. Europeans and the Americans. But Filipinos? No. You are the first ones." he said.

"REALLY?!" I exclaimed. This really amused me.

"Great!" I said.

"If we come back here, you'll definitely remember us. We'll definitely be back"

And there it was, the promise I hope to keep.

[Tacloban City] Sto.Nino Heritage Museum

2012-09-20T14:43:00.002+08:00

A couple of months back, my brother and I went to visit the Sto. Nino Shrine in our hometown in Tacloban City. Apart from finally celebrating my birthday with my family after five years in Manila, this was a highlight because it was my first visit. My brother and I were awestruck. I actually wrote a paper about it for my Anthropology class and described the experience saying " it was like walking into Imelda's brain!" Haha

I have several photos but as you all know I have an itch for themes and this time I choose to start my stream with the mirrors.

I was born and raised in Tacloban City and even went to school a couple of blocks away from where the museum stood but for some reason never felt the need for a tour. This, to think that it only costs about P50 to P70 per person, depending on the size of the group.

You know how it is when we see something or someone everyday that we just take them for granted and never know what we had till it's gone? It's kind of like that minus the romantic overture.

I never really thought it to be such a spectacular place. But after the trip, I realized how wrong I was. The museum blew my mind.

The trip was for only 30 minutes but since I was charming (not to mention overly friendly and makulit), the tourguide stretched ours for another 15 minutes. I was surprised they even allowed us to take photos since the usual rule dictates it a big no no. But we just had to pay a fee and they let us wander around shooting every detail we could.

When you look at the photos, pay special attention to the details of the walls and the frames. They are distinct from each other and were accordingly imported from abroad. I'm not sure which countries particularly, but I'm pretty convinced these were taken from all over.

By the way, the Santo Nino Heritage Museum was among the Palaces of former President Ferdinand Marcos which was accordingly built for his wife Imelda who herself was a Taclobanon. Every room was adorned with a photo of the couple which were either portraits of them or action photos from when they were still in power.

Each member of the family had their own rooms. I wasn't able to take note of each one since we were hurrying to finish the tour (the place was so big 30 minutes was just too short of a timeframe!) but my favorite was Imelda's, for obvious reasons.

The photos above were the mirrors from Imelda's room. This was in her toilet alone! She had her own Carribean themed jacuzzi which was dim-lit which gave a really relaxing vibe. It's been idle for so many years, the faucets don't even work anymore and yet they look like they've only been installed a couple of weeks before! Oh, she also had a bidet. Fun. Haha

Each of the 13 guestrooms had a toilet which had bathtubs too (sorry I'm a big fan of tubs I just can't get my head around 13 empty, unused tubs!) The photo above is preview of the the marble and detail of these toilets.

portrait with my brother! :)

I only hope that the government can try to help in preserving the museum because it truly has become on of the tourist spots in Tacloban and we have kababayans who make a living out of the tours. A lot of the marbles and figurines may have been preserved but some of the wooden figures as well as the sheets have decayed and if not taken care of properly would just wither and die (metaphorically).

Nevertheless, I encourage you to take a trip at the Sto Nino Heritage Museum in Tacloban. If you plan to head on to Tacloban in the next few months, visit the site so can have a feel of what it must have been like to be a Marcos in the 1970s.

Mind-boggling.

25th hour

2012-09-17T17:07:00.001+08:00

In 2009, we were asked by the graduation committee to forward a write-up to come with our graduation photos in our yearbook. We were asked to describe our 25th hour --- you know when you had the magical opportunity to stretch the hands of time for one extra hour in a day, what would that moment be?

My 22-year-old, overly romantic self, wrote this.

____

Breathe in.

Laying flat on the white sand, I cushion the back of my head with my hands as I watch the clouds above me move from left to right. I feel the sun softly touch my face, my skin, my entirety. I give out a stretch, close my eyes and whisper “This is paradise.”

I close my eyes some more and wonder what we’ll be having for lunch today. I feel the waves tickling my toes, bit by bit, tempting me for a quick dip in the ocean. I open my eyes and breathe out “Maybe later.”

I turn my head and see my brother Michael rushing towards me. “Bing, buhat na, we’re having masag” he says as he reaches to pull me up by my feet. I jerk up and hit him on his head just to annoy him.

“Seafood!” I blurt out, laughing with excitement.

He hits me back, gently of course and I run after him.

“Anak!” my mom calls out wearing her bright colored sarong. “Tama na iton, pakadi na kamo” she says, inviting us to the family buffet. Michael and I run towards the cottage and see our parents sitting next to each other, Dad with his usual grimace. I give my father a toothy smile and he smiles back, rather playfully. “Pangadi anay kita” he leads.

I put my hands together, close my eyes and in silence, whisper a silent prayer “Thank you God for blessing this wonderful time with my family.”

____

I can't remember when exactly it was that my family became so profusely important to me. When I was in grade-school, I really couldn't care less if they were around so long as I had all my kid-privileges (rightful representation in PTA meetings, lunch money, loitering-rights in places I'm not supposed to, etc.) But as you can see, they seemed to be the center of my life in college. They kept me grounded. They were my core.

They still are.

Side note: Our yearbook never got published because the prints were accordingly flooded by Ondoy.

[Thailand] Markets!

2012-09-15T21:59:00.001+08:00

One of the highlights of our trip to Thailand (and possibly the main purpose why we were there in the first place) was the markets. Carlo couldn't stop talking about how cheap everything was when he went there and how much stuff he had bought (when he would usually just don't care about clothes!) and so it didn't take a lot of effort to convince Chris and I that the markets were amazing. The fact that Thailand had obviously unleashed the shoppingero in my otherwise don't-give-a-rats-ass-about-fashion friend, was a once in a while miracle we wanted to witness ourselves.

The only sad thing was that I had made the dumb mistake of leaving my cash in a different continent so I was forced to be really selective when it came my purchases. Well, maybe it was well and good because if I had enough money, I would've probably gone wild buying lots of pretty things even when I had no real use of them. Classic shop-till-you-drop syndrome.

Since I couldn't go around tempting myself with trinkets, I simply gawked at the colors and took photos of the things I wanted to take home but couldn't.

The weekend market was like a crazy town-fair that hosted a lot of affordable streetfood, clothes, shoes, bags, house decorations, accessories and probably whatever that can be bought and sold by a certified hipster. Haha.

In comparison, the night market was where most vintage pieces and collectibles were sold. Also very hipster friendly.

To my dearest Hua Hin

2012-09-14T10:16:00.001+08:00

How have you been?

I have been thinking of you almost everyday since we parted. I cannot, for the life of me, forget how you cradled me in your soft belly in that quiet morning we shared alone. I ran to you completely helpless and tired, and you welcomed me without hesitation. This, even when you did not know who I was or which part of the universe I came from.

I just wanted you to know that I've officially declared you my new happy place. You know when the dragons come breathing down my neck and balls of fire start raining on my glorious parade, I close my eyes and think of you.

You and I, we had a serious talk and like a little girl, I excitedly whispered a silly secret. You seemed to be in favor of all the things I had to say because I felt you giggle after I had poured all my heart's wicked. I can't wait to come and tell you more about my quirky misadventures.

I'm sure you will be waiting for me. Please know that while I sit thousands of miles away, thoughts of you come whirling in my head.

I will come and see you very soon. I promise.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ode to my favorite mug

2012-09-12T09:40:00.004+08:00

I would have cut off my fingers that dropped you to avenge your needless death but as I don't regenerate limbs of any sort, I mourn your tragic passing instead by posting a nice, dramatic photograph to remember you by.

From this day forward, you will have to settle with "pencil holder" and you'll be the best (gaddam) pencil holder in the universe of pencil holders. I promise you that.

[Thailand] Ayutthaya

2012-09-11T09:57:00.000+08:00

The last time I ever rode a bike was probably five years ago and to have been able to reunite with the feet-off-ground-stroll experience in a place like Ayutthaya was simply magical.

After a two-hour trip south of Bangkok, we found ourselves in the quite little province of Ayutthaya. The first thing we did was scour the place for an internet shop so we can look up cheap places to stay in. This, we realize, should've been the first thing we did even before we boarded the bus. But alas! When in Thailand, too many exciting things get thrown at you by the second you just tend to forget the small stuff like booking a hotel. Haha

It was a funny story too. Four blocks and a couple of awkward-conversations-with-the-locals-for-directions after, we finally found a decent internet shop. We opened a webpage and viola, the entire Internet was in Thai! We tried to ask for help but everybody in the shop seemed so elusive. The English language tends to have that effect with a lot of locals. Haha

So there we were, lost in translation. Anyway, when we finally figured everything out, we wound up staying at this lovely place called the Grandparent's Home. Grandparentsy jokes aside, it was a brief but good stay. The people there were really nice.

Since we couldn't go biking at night we decided to dive into the night market and splurge on the street food instead. [To be quite honest, I think my trip to Thailand was, more than anything, a food adventure. Haha]

We rented out a couple of bikes and went all over. Well at least to as far as we could with the four or five hours we had during that day. As if biking alongside temples wasn't magical enough, we actually came across two elephants! I almost cried. Haha

We stayed at Ayutthaya for only a day. We left for Hua Hin in the afternoon to see the beaches. I had originally planned to go to Phi Phi but circumstances just crunched our itinerary and we couldn't go. Hua Hin didn't disappoint though. Despite the rain, it was a beautiful beach and I had a splendid alone-time while there.