Ano kaya?

Anong mga imahe ang naglalaro sa isipan ng isang taong pinanganak na bulag?

Sa pang-araw-araw na usapan, ano kaya ang nakikita niya pag sinasabi ang katagang mataba, payat, matangkad, pandak, jologs, sosyal, pangit, maganda? Anong kulay ang lumalabas sa isipan niya pag binabanggit ang pula, dilaw, berde, asul…?

Ang pisikalidad ay lumalabas sa iba’t ibang anyo. At ang anyong pinagbabasehan ng paunang opinyon tungkol sa bawat taong hindi lubusang kilala ay hindi palaging nabubuo sa pamamagitan ng imaheng inirehistro ng mata sa utak.

Hindi lang sa nakikita ng mata nagmumula ang panghuhusga. Kung bulag ka, maaring ang una mong mapapansin ay ang pabango, deodorant, o toothpaste na ginamit ng kausap mo. O kung hindi naman, nandyan ang tono ng pananalita, ang tining at lakas ng boses, ang kaluskos na likha ng bawat pagkilos. 

Kung ikaw ay pinanganak na bulag, ano kaya ang pakiwari mo sa itsura ng mga tao? Ano ang hubog ng ilong, bibig, buhok, balat? Ano ang itsura ng paa, kamay, mga daliri? Maputi, maitim, kayumanggi, amerikano, negro, blondie, kinky?

Ano kaya ang pakiramdam ng hindi mo man lamang nalalaman kung ano ang hilatsa ng sarili mong mukha?

Paano kaya maipaliliwanag ng isang taong hindi pa kailanman nakakakita ang mga napapanood nyang eksena sa kanyang bawat panaginip?

Malay ko ba?

Guy spots Girl chatting with friends in a restaurant from afar. She’s an old friend. He doesn’t expect to see her there. He stops where he’s standing, mischievously hides behind a pillar, fishes his phone out of his jeans pocket, and calls her up. Wala lang, trip lang.

He watches her as she takes the ringing phone out of her bag. She checks out the name of the caller. He smiles as he waits for her to answer.

The scene that followed caught him unawares. He is surprised—and perplexed–when he sees Girl elatedly showing her phone’s caller ID to her friends. They all shriek with excitement. Girl finally picks up.

“Hello?” Her voice is steady but she is clutching her friend’s shoulder like some lunatic.

“San ka?”

“I’m out with friends. You?” Girl closes her eyes dreamily and covers her mouth with her hand to conceal yet another gleeful scream. Beside her, her friends quiver and hug each other in hardly contained exhilaration.

Upon seeing this, Unwitting Guy is unwitting no more. Understanding and embarrassment slowly dawn on him. Quick thinking evaded him.

“Look to your right,” he tells her weakly, doing his best to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

Girl does as she is told. Sheepish Guy emerges from the behind the pillar, his face burning.

Girl’s jaw drops. There is not an iota of doubt in her mind that he saw her reaction to his phone call. She gives a small wave and smiles.

Inwardly, she fervently prays for instant death.

‘Di mo lang alam…

A mother carries the burden of her daughter’s teenage loathing for her. She read her journal one day when she was in school. “I hate my Mommy! I hate my Mommy! I hate my Mommy!” it was written there in big, bold letters. That was over ten years ago.

Mother mentioned nary a word about it to anyone. It was never brought up. And, hence, was never addressed.

At 25 years old, Daughter has long dropped the angst, rebellion, and bitterness of her youth. As an adult, she can’t stop feeling perpetually guilty of having been a bad girl during her adolescent years and is always, albeit indirectly and subtly, out to prove to Mother that her feelings have changed.

Unconvinced, her mother’s paranoia never goes away. Daughter is hurt and does not understand why, despite all her efforts, Mother still seems strangely distant and wary of her. “What did I do?!”

Daughter does not know that Mother read about the secret hatred immortalized in her high school diary. Mother does not know that Daughter’s secret hatred, no longer a secret but far from immortal after all, had completely disappeared a long, long time ago.

Hence, the grueling, self-inflicted hurt on both sides over nothing spins on and on and on…

Come on, can’t you just talk?

Oh yes, that’s me among the thousands of people in Araneta Coliseum last Friday. It was Game 4 of the PBA All Filipino Cup Finals. San Miguel vs. Ginebra. And I, in case you do not know, was once a huge Ginebra fan .

Actually, I am no longer as big a PBA fan as I used to be. The interest waned big time when Jawo quit coaching and ran for Senator in the late 90s. Then Marlou Aquino moved to Sta. Lucia and Noli Locsin elsewhere (I honestly don’t give a s*it about EJ Feihl). Bal David did not play the point half as well as he used to… Tapos nagkaron pa ang ABS-CBN ng MBA and Ginebra’s star players including Vince Hizon made the jump. Simply put, when the new millennium entered, I quit watching the PBA altogether.

Well, there was a time when my interest perked up some. Ginebra was in the finals again, Caidic was coach. The squad boasted of power players again like Mark Caguioa and JJ Helterbrand. Sadly, Bal David has long since been reduced to second-stringer.  The team had huge potential but I really didn’t think Alan Caidic is fit for coaching. Oh yeah, he was a fine shooter during his heyday, but it is one thing to be able to play well and another to be able to teach one how to play well. Needless to say, Ginebra did not win that finals then.

One Sunday, I chanced upon a Ginebra game. My Mom told me that Ginebra was in the semis. I think that game was a playoff match (basta yung team ni Mac-Mac Cardona, kung ano man yun). I felt really irritated with myself that I didn’t know most of the players anymore.

I realize I kind of miss the feeling of being purely passionate about something. Ngayon, many issues and people get me worked up, but none can still compare to the kind of emotion that my Ginebra fanaticism evoked in me.

At the height of my fanaticism, I knew all the full names and numbers (I mean uniform numbers) of all the Ginebra players. Kilala ko lahat ng coaches ng lahat ng teams.  I wrote articles with ardor (and love?) about the basketball squad. I carefully scheduled my classes so that I would be free on days when there were PBA games. I used to go to UP’s Main Library even on Saturdays to read articles on microfilm about Jaworski’s magic—I yearned to find out the reason behind the magnetism that lured legions and legions of fans through the decades. My mood changed with every win or loss. I clipped articles from newspapers and magazines (which I keep and still reread up to now). I used to send articles and letters to columnists. I had letters published in sports magazines. Recah Trinidad of the Inquirer praised an article I sent to him in his column. “A delight to read,” he called it.

Those were the days when I felt most alive and happy and inspired. The Ginebra fanaticism was an unashamed passion. I have yet to find something that would make me feel that way again. To this day, my mood shifts each time someone mentions Ginebra, Añejo, Gordon’s Gin, Jaworski, Ampalayo, Isaac, Distrito, Loyzaga Brothers, Jarencio, Gayoso, Noli Locsin, Marlou Aquino, Bal David…it may sound like an exaggeration, but I feel like I am in a different time zone or I am a different person when these topics are brought up. Fellow Ginebra fans are sure to be my instant friends. =)

When I watched the game last Friday, naalala ko na naman kung gaano kasarap ang mag-chant ng "Gi-neb-ra! Gi-neb-ra!" along with the huge crowd. Yung excitement ng running game clock. Yung feeling of actually rooting for someone or something. Mejo weird lang na si Jarencio nasa coaching staff na ng San Miguel. Si Johnny Abarrientos, who I used to hate cause he was really great at laging natatalo ang Ginebra sa Alaska dahil sa kanya, is now playing for Ginebra. Jong Uichico, who used to coach San Miguel, is now the Ginebra coach. Chot Reyes, who was formerly the coach of Purefoods, is now the San Miguel coach. So much has changed since I actually last watched a game! Nakaka-inspire tuloy na manood ng manood ulit (though my schedule won’t allow it. Sigh!). Especially since lagi na nananalo Ginebra! Weee! Nung Friday game, super tambak ang San Miguel!

Look at that 3rd quarter score! Woo-hoo!

Why do I like Ginebra? Some reasons I could readily identify: the Never-say-die spirit (kahit tambak sila ng 40 points sa 4th quarter, alam mong hahabulin at hahabulin nila ang lead na yan). The fact that even if they lose, you, as a fan, could sense that they did their darn best. Ginebra ang tipo ng team na you could only either hate or love. It just so happens that I am on the "Love" end of the pole.

For the most part, I really couldn’t explain what I loved about this team or jow I got hooked on this phenomenon. Neither would I try to defend for I myself do not understand. My take on it is: you can never dig die-hard fanaticism unless you’re a die-hard fan of something yourself.

Last time I checked, 3-2 na, in favor of Ginebra. My friend, Tina, with whom I watched the game last Friday, swears she could sense there’s something fishy going on. She is a San Miguel fan kaya super kawawa sya when we watched kasi parang sya lang ang nag-iisang San Miguel fan sa buong Coliseum at lahat ay rooting for Ginebra na (well, dalawa pala sila ni Ana, who also watched live but was sitting in another area. Hahaha). Tina’s so certain San Miguel will win again on Friday para sure na may Game 7 at tatabo na naman sa takilya ang PBA.

Jampacked Araneta

Lutong Macao na nga ba ang PBA? Wag naman sana…

Several people have emailed me their comments instead because Friendster kept rejecting their comments on this blog and dismissing them as "Spam."

I tried pasting their comments but even I cannot post comments in my own blog!

WTF?!

Last Saturday, I went to a wake.

He was the son of the producer of a TV show I used to write for.

He was stabbed.

Twice in the chest. Once in the abdomen. Twice at the back.

It happened on Valentine’s Day–a day when everywhere else in the world, people were celebrating and gushing over and toasting to the wonders of eternal romance and passionate love expressed in countless forms.

He was 30. And he just brought home his date (it was a blind date). Now we will never know how that date turned out. Did he like her, did she like him? It wouldn’t matter now, would it? 

He went for a nightcap. He was already billing out. Then the two men. Then the stabbing. Then his reassuring call to the panicking, worrying mother. Then the arrival of the policemen and the rush to the hospital. Then the operating room. Then the heart failure cause by the stab wound. Then death.

Death and dying: stories of which, whether expected or sudden, are always heartrending. With every death tale, we are simultaneously, equally reminded of the great power we possess as well as the magnitude of our powerlessness.

It really is a mystery why, despite knowing full well that life is short, we still choose to tarry and wait and put off and delay. Death is a certainty, inevitability, an eventual reality. Yet in the hustle of the daily grind, apologies are shrugged off, loved ones taken for granted, appreciation allowed to take a backseat, dreams forgotten…

Why is “right now” never the “right time?”

Why is later, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year better than “right now?”

When my chest hurts, when my head spins and I feel short of breath, when I cross a busy highway, thoughts of life and death momentarily swirl in my head.

What if I die today? What if this day is the day?

What then?

1. Public toilets in Japan are really, really clean. And there’s always tissue.

2. Most toilet seats are electronic, especially in homes and offices. The seats are warmed. Beside it is a set of buttons and controls that allow you to use either shower or bidet, adjust the water pressure and temperature, or activate the “flushing sound” if you don’t want the person in the next cubicle to hear what you’re doing.

3. In Japan, you are expected to clean up after yourself. Sa mga fast food stores, you throw your own garbage and return your own trays in the designated stowing areas. Ilang beses nga na muntik na ko umalis ng hindi naliligpit, by force of habit, cause that’s the practice here anyway.

Maganda rin sana na i-adopt natin dito ang ganong system. Nakakatawang-nakakainis na tayo nga itong nakatira sa mahirap na bansa, tayo pa ang parang hindi magsu-survive ng walang maid sa bahay. Pati mga pamilya who could hardly make ends meet eh may mga katulong!

4. Sa ilang subway stations, merong mga employees na ang tanging trabaho lang is to pack all the people in sa mga trains. And, mind you, these are smartly dressed men—in navy blue coats, hats, and gloves—whose sole responsibility is to literary stuff people in the trains so more could get inside. And ang nakakatuwa pa is they really take their job seriously. Tipong they keep a prim stance tapos may mga sinasabi pa silang spiels pag padating o paalis na ang tren.

Sana sa MRT may mga taga-tulak at taga-pack din ng tao para ma-pitpit ang mga pasaway na ayaw umusog don sa gitna para makasakay pa ang iba.   

5. Fully-automated ang ticketing machines sa lahat ng train stations. Super astig! Tapos yung ticket na binili mo sa Tokyo, nare-recognize din even in stations outside the city. Pag kulang na ang bayad mo, may special machine for Fare Adjustment that automatically computes how much you have to add to be able to get to your target destination.

6. Ang sarap pumorma sa Japan kasi ang lamig! Doon, common lang ang mga girls wearing mini-skirts, knee-high boots, fur coats…most people are in trench coats, mufflers, bonnets, etc. Protection from the biting cold—in style!

Dito sa Pilipinas kung saan ubod ng init on most days, pag nagsuot ka ng ganon, either a) siraulo ka; b) gusto mo magpakamatay by way of heat stroke or suffocation; or c) you’re in desperate need of attention; or d) isa kang hip-hop na basta maka-porma lang, titiisin ang tumatagaktak na pawis…   

7. I noticed that most of their young women have colored hair. Red kung red or blonde kung blonde! Most of the young men, on the other hand, sport the just-got-up-from-bed hairstyle with matching highlights.

8. Porn materials (especially magazines and comic books) are sold practically everywhere. Even in convenience stores!

9. The Japanese people are often formal and polite. Kahit hindi mo kakilala, pag nagkatinginan kayo, the usual reaction is to make a small bow to each other (kahit maliit na bobbing of the head lang).

10. Most shops close at 8 PM. Some close even before 8. Ang kadalasang bukas na lang after 8 ay mga restaurants and bars.

11. Ewan ko kung pano nila nagagawa yun, pero ON TIME, im-punto (tama ba spelling?) lahat! Pag nakalagay na ang tren o bus ay darating ng ganitong oras, eksaktong-eksaktong yun ang arrival nya. With trains I could understand how it’s possible, pero I’m really amazed how this could be met even in buses, with unpredictable traffic and all.

12. Right-hand drive sa Japan. So madalas, nadi-disorient ako. Dahil sanay ako sa left-hand drive, minsan sa biglang tingin, naiisip kong walang nagmamaneho sa sasakyan.

Keep Left din pala ang policy sa Japan. So kahit naglalakad ka, you have to stay on the left side of the sidewalk kung ayaw mo bumangga sa mga kasalubong mo or masagasaan ng mga parating na bisikleta.

Oh, and bicycles are one of the most commons means of transportation.   

13. Sosyal ang mga taxi!. The backseat door opens and closes automatically (you DO NOT pull the door close or else, matitingnan ka ng masama ng driver!). Pwede magbayad through credit card. At may GPS pa!

Pero eto ang catch: ang flag-down rate ng cabs ay ¥660 or over 300 pesos! Ang bawat patak after the first 5 kilometers ay ¥80 or roughly 40 pesos.

14. 110 ang voltage na kailangan ng mga gadgets and appliances.

15. May vendo machines everywhere. At hindi ito binabasag o ninanakawan o pinupuno ng graffiti–something you could expect to happen in bout a week’s time, kung dito ka sa Manila maglalagay ng vendo sa kalye .

Actually, parang wala nga yata akong napansing graffiti kahit saan doon…

16. Ngayon ko lang napatunayan kung bakit well-renowned all over the world ang Filipino hospitality. In Japan, they are really timid and polite, pero hindi sila tulad ng mga Pinoy sa bisita na tipong dadalhin mo ang bisita sa bahay mo, ipagluluto mo, pag-iisipan mo kung saan mo sya ipapasyal. In our case, our boss just treated us to dinner one Friday night (a delicious Brazilian steak buffet at Copa Tokyo), pero yung pasyal-pasyal namin, kami-kami na lang ang bahala.

The first time we had to shoot in Yokohama, the people in the Tokyo office were really worried cause wala man lang Japanese employee from the school na sasama sa amin going there. Eh hello, ang layo kaya ng Yokohama from Tokyo. It’s about one hour away by train. Partida na dahil sobrang bilis ng mga tren sa Japan, so that is already an indication of just how far it is. It also means at least three train changes. And with maps and instructions we couldn’t read.

Sabi nung isang Japanese employee who really wanted to take us to Yokohama but was unavailable, “I’m so embarrassed. Filipino hospitality is not like ours.” Kasi when she was here, kuntodo pinasyal talaga sya sa kung saan-saan at lagi syang may kasamang Pinoy. Nung nalaman nung parang second-in-command to my boss na pinapapunta kami sa Yokohama ng walang kasama, siya na mismo ang tumawag don sa mga staff ng school at nag-utos na isa sa kanila ang sumama sa amin sa Yokohama.

Nung alam ko na kung paano, nag-lakas loob akong pumunta ng Yokohama mag-isa to meet with my good friend and Broad Ass orgmate, Lara. Thank God, I was able to go there safely. We had a quick snack at Mangia-Mangia, an Italian restaurant at the Yokohama Landmark Tower. Then we walked to Cosmo World where we rode the giant Ferris Wheel and took tons of pictures. After that, we had dinner at their home. Nag-prepare pa ng Yakiniku (Korean barbecue) and mommy nya. Then chika-chika at their place. They were even offering that I sleep there, tapos her stepdad will just drive me to the station in the morning. Kaso may shoot din kami the next day (yes, nagshu-shoot kami kahit linggo!), so kahit gabing-gabi na eh nag-effort pa akong bumalik sa aming hotel in Kuramae, Tokyo.

After the Sunday shoot, I went back to Yokohama for one last gimmick with Lara. She took me to Motomachi, one of the most expensive shopping strips in Yokohama. She also brought me to this place frequented by Filipinos (aaargh, I forget what it’s name is). There we had sumptuous Tempura then coffee at Starbucks. She pointed to me the young hostos with their toussled hair at naka-coat pa ang mga mokong! 

17. Lalo kong na-appreciate na sobrang masayahin ng mga Pinoy and that we are such fun-loving people. Hindi tayo mayamang bansa, kate-katerba ang problema natin, pero nagagawa pa rin nating maging masaya!

Sabi nila, mataas daw ang suicide rate sa Japan (kaya yung mga places gaya ng rooftops na pwedeng talunan ng mga gustong magpa-tiwakal, nilalagyan ng matatas na fences). Marami rin daw records of family members killing their own. Dahil ba parang repressed ang culture nila? I don’t know…

Sa Tokyo office nga eh, mga Pinoy lang ang maiingay doon. Sa isang buong araw, halos hindi naguusap-usap ang mga Hapon naming officemates. Tutok na tutok sa mga computers nila. Last year, I was singing while I was typing. Yung office admin, biglang tumayo and shushed me. Bawal daw kumanta. Labo ‘no?!

18. May mga inuman places sa Japan na tipong pupuntahan mo pag depressed ka at plano mong magpakamatay matapos malasing. Kasi ang liit-liit ng mga bar na ito na tipong 5 people at a time lang ang kasya (I really do not know what they’re called), very dimly lit, tapos parang wala man lang house music. ‘Di gaya ng mga gimmick places natin, always brimming with smiling, laughing, happy people!

19. It is really fun to be immersed in a culture very, very different from ours. If not for the physical exhaustion, I would have really enjoyed my stay.

Japan is indeed one of the countries to visit. If only so you know what it is like to be in a roomful of people tapos hindi mo maintindihan at all kung ano ang sinasabi nila. Yung fear and excitement and challenge ng pagpunta sa malalayong lugar ng hindi mo alam kung may makakapag-turo sayo ng directions pag naligaw ka or kung mababasa mo yung maps and guides (marami kasing stations and terminals na walang English translation). Paano ka bibili ng ticket sa isang machine na ni wala kahit isang pirasong alphabet letter? Paano ka gagamit ng telephone kung ang mga recorded messages and voice prompts are all in Nihongo?

    Lost in Train Station (Kamata, Japan)

 

One time, Wendell and I went to Yokohama’s huge Chinatown. There were plenty of attractive places to dine in there but we ended up eating at McDonald’s. Why? Because we couldn’t read the menu in any of the restaurants! Talagang makaka-relate ka don sa movie na Lost in Translation.

Buti na lang madali nung unang punta ko pa last year, na-figure ko na agad out ang pagsalin-salin ng tren. I guess super lakasan na lang talaga ng loob at katakot-takot na pagdarasal.

In this last trip, Wendell and I were left with not much choice but to develop our own strategy to be able to get around. Ni hindi kami binigyan ng service! Imagine all 5-feet of me carrying two video cameras with all the accessories (chargers, batteries, microphones), plus an SLR, plus my own bag. Tapos si Wendell naman was carrying the tripod and our lights. Tapos nagaakyat-panaog kami sa mga subway stations! May isang araw na from Tokyo, we shot at Yokohama, then from Yokohama, we traveled all the way to Nishi-Kawaguchi, which is about two hours away, even on the speedy train. Sabi nga ni Wendell, “Para from Manila, nagpunta tayong nagpunta ng Batangas. Tapos from Batangas, nagpunta tayo ng Bulacan!”

Grabe talaga yung last trip na yun. Super awang-awa ako sa amin. That is why even though there was an opportunity for us to extend two more days, nung malaman kong hindi pa sure ang flight namin if we reschedule, nag-checkout na agad ako sa hotel. Our confirmed flight was January 29. They wanted us to stay til the 31^st, pero waitlisted pa rin kami til the morning of the 29^th. My boss’s secretary asked us to wait until 12:30 that day, pero sabi ko sa kanya na nag-checkout na ko and I didn’t want to risk not being able to book a flight home on the 31^st cause I had a lot of deadlines to meet. 

Pero sa totoo lang, gusto ko na lang talagang umuwi dahil pagod na pagod na pagod na ako.

Isa syang kasumpa-sumpang experience in many ways, but looking at it from a different perspective, it was character-building in a lot of ways, too.

20. Ang gugwapo ng mga Pinoy at ang gaganda ng mga Pinay. Yun lang!

You will never know that, as you take a rest after a strenuous day, your eyes closed, your tired legs propped up on a table, someone you have never met in your life is staring at you from afar and is inexplicably, quietly beginning to change his stand about the nonexistence of love at first sight.

Eight years, a marriage, and three kids after, she still describes him as her soul mate. Not even her husband, who she also loves dearly, fit that title. And Charlie, now on a limbo, living a life of changing-girlfriends-every-two-years, will never, never know that eight years ago, what he deemed a broken, irreparable love actually stood a chance.

A decision, one he made in a moment he did not at all think of as pivotal, threw it all away for Hilda and him forever.

At some point in our lifetimes, each of us encounters our one great love. Such encounters, sometimes prolonged, sometimes brief, affect us so completely that we are never the same after. 

“He’s my greatest love,” Hilda says.

“She’s my greatest love,” Charlie says.

If this is so, one is led to wonder, why are they not together?

In their desolate moments, they each come up with their own rationalizations. To Hilda, fate called the shots. Charlie unknowingly had a shot at it but chose to let it go.

Hilda, eight years back…

“We’ve broken up more times than I care to count, but I love you still,” Hilda thought as she agitatedly walked back and forth in the hotel lobby where she asked Charlie to meet her.

The latest in a string of painful goodbyes had been the ugliest. Words, meant and unmeant, were uttered with such pain and hatred that both walked away convinced that that really was the end of it.

While Hilda so desperately wanted to cling on to the promise of “One great love,” she had greater faith in the power of something infinitely bigger than her: Destiny.

“If Charlie doesn’t come tonight, then that means we’re really over. If he does, then I’ll marry him,” she swore to herself. There was no other man she imagined spending a lifetime with, but she needed to be sure.

The clock was ticking and Charlie’s nowhere in sight.

Charlie on the flip side

He was sitting in his car. He’d been there for over an hour. Wanting, more than anything, to get out and meet her at the hotel lobby as he promised in their curt conversation the night before. “What else could she want?”

He didn’t think he had the strength to see her again—he was still reeling from the pain of the latest breakup. He didn’t think he could take another round of getting his hopes up, then seeing them crushed right before his eyes. A man could only bear so much disappointment.

“If you want closure, I’ll give you closure,” he angrily thought to himself as he backed up the car and drove away.

Present time

Eight years, a marriage, and three kids after, she still describes him as her soul mate. Secretly, he also thinks the same about her. 

“I would have married him if he only came.”

But there’s no point in Charlie finding that out now, is there? Neither is there hardly any point in Hilda knowing that Charlie did indeed come, sitting prostrate in his car, deathly afraid of her, deathly longing for her, right outside that hotel lobby.

If only he knew. If only she knew.   

Why are they not together?

“I got scared,” he admitted.

“Fate said so,” she asserted. 

“Because we spent too much time waiting,” they concurrently realize, even in their separation.

I read somewhere that people should try to learn at least one new skill every year. Since then, I’ve been consciously keeping a close check on new abilities I’ve acquired at the end of each year. I realize that most things I know now are mere results of the necessities of the jobs I’ve had since I graduated in ’01 and not really out of a conscious desire to learn.

For example, prior to my Technical Writer job at Ulead, I knew zero about software programs (except for MS Word, which is the only program I actually needed back in college). There was this one time I stupidly asked my officemate if an entire program installer could be saved on one floppy diskette. Our Tech guy answered, “Kasya naman siguro sa diskette, pero siguro kelangan mo ng siyam!” Boy, did I get the teasing of my life after that.

After computers, research skills followed. Thanks to small freelance writing assignments I got from some magazine publications. The projects weren’t many, but they helped sharpen my ability at putting two and two together.

Then I got a semi-regular job at an NGO. This is where my journalistic skills were really honed. I was sent out to conduct interviews which I found terrifying at first, but gradually developed confidence in as I went along. In FMA, I happily wrote and wrote and wrote. And I think my style was more suited to the kind of writing that that particular job required. One of my main frustrations when I did magazine articles in the past is that I am not the “You go, girl!” kind of writer. First of all, I do not write funny. I do not find myself witty or amusing; at least not in the “Girl power!” kind of way. I admire those who are great at that because, for a reason I couldn’t quite place, their articles really do feel like “girlfriend to girlfriend” chat. That’s not how it is with mine. Somehow, I sense the sham, the pretense of it all reeking from my own work. It is like what Rey always says: You can discern the author’s sincerity and alam mo as a reader kung pilit ang pagka-sulat. A fashion magazine EIC who interviewed me eons ago said that I couldn’t have the job I was applying for because my writing is “not Pink.” Weirdly, I wasn’t sure whether to feel bad or flattered by that comment.

After “research paper” writing, I got immersed in video scriptwriting. I first got a break when I stumbled upon the Abbott Philippines account in 2003 where, together with Rey and Ronnie, we did an instructional AVP (which I believe Abbott is still using ‘til now). This got me started as a member of the DV Sharks team. Freelance writer/ production manager, project after project…and so the rest is history. Oh and in case you’re curious, yeah, I’m still part of DV Sharks. We’re currently doing a really interesting project for the Japan Foundation which I will tell you about in a separate entry.

DV Sharks was also the link that connected me to where I work now, Pilipinas International Marketing Services (haba, ‘no?!). PIMS had a need for a production team that could make a couple of TVCs for them. Of course as PM, Ronnie asked me to meet up with the Marketing bosses. After two meetings with then Marketing Manager, Reena, I soon got a job offer which I immediately accepted without second thought.

In this job, I had to do so many things I never in my life imagined doing. My first weeks were spent making TVCs by my lonesome. I wrote the scripts, did the layouts, and edited the videos myself (with Premiere and Photoshop running on my pitiful Windows ’98 PC). What I know about Premiere and Photoshop, I only got by watching Ronnie edit. Pero syempre, I am not exactly the most attentive person in the world and my retention is not really that reliable. So how were the first TVCs I made? Of course they sucked! The bosses were fine with them, but I would be the first to admit they were appalling. Plus, prior to airing, I was responsible for preparing the Media Plans for all the ads as well. Before December 2005 ended, I was begging and begging that they hire an editor because I simply couldn’t balance planning, writing, and editing all at the same time. I know multi-tasking, but I also know the bounds of my capacity.

Fortunately, Avi and Wendell were hired early last year. Avi took on copywriting for print ads and Wendell became our video editor. Then, the Marketing Department was split into two, Corporate Development and Creative Services. Before the separation was formalized, the General Manager spoke with me and asked me to choose between Sales/ Marketing and Creatives. He told me that he saw my potential in developing marketing strategies and that with training, it could be a great move for my career. He went on to explain that creative work was something I could always practice some other time anyway, but an offer such as the one he was presenting does not come too often . I said, no thanks, but I’d rather do creative work. “I think you’re making a mistake,” he bluntly told me. Unworried, I shrugged my shoulders and answered, “That’s okay.” 

Turns out it wasn’t at all a mistake. Shortly after, the Tokyo office realized the big earning potential in TV ads. We started with making commercials for our own merchandise and, as our production skills improved, Japanese companies that provide services to Filipinos began advertising with us too. Since most of them do not have their own materials yet, it is our team here in the Philippines that creates their commercials for them: from pre-prod all the way to post. Hence, with constant practice, I gradually learned to direct and Wendell got better and better at lighting and editing.

It is true that the best way to learn is by application. You learn more about the skill or the craft as you go along. You develop your own style; you come up with your strategy at making things flow better. Sometimes, you wouldn’t know what you’re good at until you’ve actually had the chance to try it. You might even be surprised at how nicely you could do a thing you never paid any mind to before. We at our team are no experts in the field, and I would even be the first to claim that what we’ve made so far are still a far, far cry from what other professional production houses come up with. However, given the many limitations, I remain proud of all that we’ve done. I am even more excited about what we could probably produce after we get more formal training. There’s a standing offer to take up a course on directing, but there are just too many things to do in the office that we haven’t really sat down to research about a good school to enroll in. 

Now I see 2007 as the year to go to a school and formally study something. More than directing, I first want to learn photography. I find this expertise all-encompassing—lighting, shot composition, angling…skills that could also be applied in shooting videos. What I do whenever I direct is based on mere gut feel of what looks fine to me (this shot seems nice, this might work, yadayada), but we all know that even creative tasks need at least some basic guidelines. Hindi ka lang basta arya ng arya. First know the rules before you break them, ika nga. How can I exercise creative freedom when I know nothing about what have been proven to work in the first place? Besides, with all the new places and experiences I’ve been exposed to in the past couple of months, my desire to study photography grows more and more. So there. If all things go as planned, I’ll be taking Photography within the year’s first quarter (at baka kaklase ko pa si Adrian. ‘Di ba, Aids?)

I also plan to study Nihongo. My recent trip to Japan less than two weeks ago further made me realize the urgency of this need. My learning to speak, read, and write Japanese would make communication between us here and the folks in Tokyo more efficient and a whole lot easier. Modesty aside, I feel like I somehow have a natural proficiency at learning language. I remember doing well at my foreign language classes back in UP. I took up 6 units of Spanish and 3 units each of Italian and Portuguese. But as with anything, the absence of practice just inevitably caused me to forget all that I was taught almost soon after the end of each course.

Will I be able to learn photography and Nihongo this year? I certainly do hope so. They sure top my “new skills to learn this year” list.

 

Nope, I’m no professional–that SLR’s set to Auto Focus the entire time!

Weird Me

1. I (probably) scratch my eyes and nose in a most amusing/ scary way, judging from the way other people are always horrified whenever they see me do it.

2. When you receive an SMS from me, expect it to be a 2- or 3-part message. I don’t abbreviate when I compose SMS, and I think the predictive texting technology is one of man’s greatest inventions. 

3. I pour plenty of rubbing alcohol on my feet and arms before I go to bed. The fumes weirdly lull me to sleep.

4. Much as I love reading, it takes me 100 years to finish one book.

5. I get jealous very, very easily (friends, relatives, romantic prospects, attention…you name it!). Even as an adult, I still I constantly struggle with fits of jealousy. This is one characteristic I truly despise about myself.

6. I sound angry even when I am not. This frustrates me a lot, especially when my passionate manner of speaking is mistaken for anger or being pikon. “Eh baket galit ka?” I am often asked when I excitedly discuss something. Of course, I’ll answer, “Di ako galit no!” Unconvinced, the person I’m speaking with would still insist, “Weehh, galit ka eh!”

Aarggh. Di nga eh! (ayan, kahit sa pagsusulat, I come off mad kahit hindi!). 

7. I’m sorry to those who love her, but I cannot stand watching Kris Aquino. The moment I see her face flashed on the screen (or hear her shrill voice!), I just have to change the channel. Watching and listening to her for over one minute is excruciating torture for me.

Jobert Sucaldito and Cristy Fermin take the 2^nd and 3^rd spots on my “Persons I Cannot Stand Seeing” list. Obviously, hindi ako nanonood ng The Buzz.

8. I am your classic geek: I am great at Minesweeper (does anybody else play this ‘til now aside from me?). This is something I am equally pleased and embarrassed about. Nerdy, nerdy me.

9. My first two or three hours in the office are spent checking my mail and reading other people’s blogs. This somehow gets me in the groove. To sum it all up, you really cant expect decent output from me in the morning. I’m truly at my prime come nighttime.   

10. When I eat fried chicken, I flake all the meat first (the way we do it when preparing a kid’s plate), set aside the skin and eat it last. It’s a good practice in delaying gratification.

Love in the Time of Cholera

I am just midway through it, yet I’m already chalking it up as one of my favorite novels.

Like the other Garcia-Marquez works I’ve read in the past, the first few chapters were quite a struggle to read. Nonetheless, if you have the patience to keep going despite the humdrum start, the emotional height and depth that this marvelous author would take you, especially in this novel, is truly worth it. It perfectly fits my sometimes excessive optimism and infallible faith in a “maybe someday” dream. 

I wish I were Fermina Daza and that Florentino Ariza and Juvenal Urbino exist in my world.

This book’s pretty hard to find, but try and get yourselves a copy!

Changes

You know what’s one good thing about getting older? You start to shed off your unfounded insecurities and begin to, little by little, become increasingly self-assured and take on a more confident “I am alive!” outlook. Somehow, the diffidence and anxiety that you had too much of when you were younger begin to seem pathetic. You understand more and more that everyday living is hard enough, and that the last thing you need are groundless, self-imposed baggage that will only weigh you down and keep you from seeing the bigger, possibly more rewarding, picture. 

I just realized that it’s actually more fun watching a life lived with almost-reckless abandon than a person who’s just way too keen on getting even the most indistinct creature’s nod. 

Believe me, I am not emancipated from insecurities. I think self-doubt is everyone’s bane, and no one, not even those who are seemingly “confident to a fault”, is spared. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try and be braver each day and bask in the knowledge that, however you wish for or dread it, not all eyes are on you.   

Goodbye, old drone…

Evita

The theme for last year’s company Christmas Party is Hollywood. We were divided into different groups, and the Creative Services department to which I belong was teamed up with the Foreign Group, the Executive Office, and the Purchasing and Accounting departments.

Needless to say, we weren’t exactly “the team to beat.” None of us were genuine performers—as opposed to the other groups. There were so many things going against us, one of which is language barrier (our Foreign Group is composed of Vietnamese, Burmese, Thai, and Indonesian members). The musical flick Evita was also assigned to us and, compared Grease or Phantom of the Opera, Moulin Rouge, or Chicago, it is easy to tag Evita as the most potentially boring presentation of all.

But what we lacked in performing skills, we made up for with, well, whatever individual skills and upper hand, no matter how minute, we had. We downloaded a bunch of songs from the Internet and put together a 7-minute version of Evita, complete with an Imelda Marcos-Evita Peron parallelism to spice things up (with, ahem, yours truly, playing the Imelda-turned-material-girl-Madonna farce)!

We hired a professional dance instructor to teach us the Tango. I was tasked to direct but I could never orchestrate a Tango dance like Irene did. With the Tango and the finale settled, it was easy to put the rest of the performance together. We practiced and practiced for an entire week until presentation day came.

All the teams did really great. Our Tango was not how we imagined it to be (Hahaha. Sorry guys, but it was a real major eyesore). Apart from that, everything played out smoothly. And, surprises, surprises, we actually landed third place! With the congratulatory greetings coming with remarks like, “Buti pa yung sa inyo, may storya!” Well, the story was one thing I really made certain would be clear because I knew it was one of our few saving graces. Great to know that it really worked!

It feels really great to just let loose from time to time, doesn’t it? See our performance pics below. So out of character! Hehehe. J