Saturday, September 25, 2004
Labaspanty
It occurred to me that I've never yet written a real entry about my girl friends. It's crazy! How can I totally miss such an important part of my life! I supposed I should begin with a little history.
My girl friends and I all met "The Bench". The Bench was a certain, yellow, monoblock bench along Ateneo's Science Building (lovingly known as "SEC"). We started hanging out during our freshman year, drawn together by a common interest: stalking this guy named Mic who sat on the bench directly across us. Little did we know that a shared obsession would blossom into a lasting friendship.
First things first, we're actually not all girls. We have male members, and they are all darlings, and they quietly put up with our all-day yakkings about boyfriends, period pains, cup sizes, and other, er... womanly troubles. But within this group of girls and guys, we girls have a special sub-union that shares a special bond, and a special exclusive e-group (no men allowed) and Friendster account.
This sub-union of unique, free-thinking, awesome women is lovingly reffered to as "Labas Panty" coined by our very own Trina. Noone really knows how she thought of it. It might be because we all liked to wear super-low, hipster bellbottoms in college, that just never quite concealed the garters of our underwear fully. We've been through many names in the past, "The Jackpot Bench", "The A.P.T. Bench", etc. But Labas Panty is the name of our e-groups so I guess it's meant to stay.
For four years of college, our labas-pantied bottoms warmed those plastic benches at all hours of the day, during our breaks. We ate, slept, studied, laughed, cried, shared secrets, took pictures, and made a lifetime's worth of memories on that bench. And aside from school, we spent practically all our vacations together, every summer, sem-break, and Christmas season.
I love these girls (I love you too, boys, but this entry is about the girls. Besides, you guys weren't there last Friday hehehe).
After I spent high school drifting from one group to the next and always feeling out of place, I finally found people who get my vibe. The funny thing is, they all feel the same way. Were we all total weirdos in high school? Seriously though, I'm so glad I've found people whose minds are a little bit more open than most, who are a little more accepting than most, who are little more weird than most. People who know how to live, and yet are still so grounded, real, intelligent, artistic, and pro-active. What we have is a healthy, working friendship.
Now that college is over, reunions are few and far in-between. Or maybe it just feels that way because we don't see each other every week anymore. Our most recent one was last Friday in Greenbelt 3. We all wanted to get together because Pia is finally home from her great Barcelona adventure via her amazing Buy This Dream project. During her stay, she managed to sell 300 Euros worth of her beautiful hand-made jewelry, then used the money to see even more of Europe!
Then there's Sara, the oldest girl on the bench who acts like the youngest. She just arrived from a 4-month stay in Greece, with a sidetrip to London. She got to watch some of the Olympics. Aaawww, I miss partying with this girl.
Here's to Labaspanty: Jenn, Sara, Dewi, Burg, Trina, Becky, Jovinne, Terry, Kat, Therese, and Pia.
muziklaban
Ito ang tama!!! Or so the slogan, sung by Karl Roy, goes.
On an iffy stomach, I went with Nino the Red Horse Beer Muziklaban at Amoranto Stadium last Friday and ended up having a great night. It's been awhile since I stayed out late and mingled. Yahoo! As always, one of the privileges of dating a rockstar-bassist-boy is that you are automatically "with the band", and are always on the list of people who get backstage passes. I've been able to watch all these great concerts from the total safety of the backstage/ V.I.P area, and I've never had to elbow my way through the blood-thirsty, groping, bottle-throwing Huns in the mosh-pit. Instead I get safety, free beer, and a chance to hob knob with the band people (eww, I sounded like such a groupie there).
I can't really remember who won (how sad). But I have my own set of highlights for the night:
1) Fuseboxx-'Nyeta! Sh*t! Ang laki ng problema ng banda na toh! Masyado silang magaling! Pinainom ba sila ng Promil ng mga nanay nila?
Fuseboxx was the grand champion of last year's Muziklaban. Prog rock is their thing, and it is pretty obvious that they listen to alot of "Dream Theater". They're all pretty excellent, but their secret weapon is their vocalist, this girl Abby, who wields a keyboard as her weapon of choice. She stands in the middle, the female core of the band. HOW F*CKING MAANGAS CAN YOU GET???. They are so absolutely mind-blowing, and I'm sure every single band there last night all felt 30% less cool than they thought they were before hearing them play.
How could they have not won the Muziklaban? They're not even on the same fr*ckin' level as the other bands that joined! They shouldn't be playing in an stadium filled with rowdy teenagers who want to bang their heads and break things. They should be playing in an auditorium where people can sit down and listen to them! I don't care if they obviously rip off "Dream Theater" (as some people have commented). I'm just amazed that they've taken a step into making their kind of music. The music scene needs that.
2) The Wild Stallions-I know the name is cheesy but I like it anyway. The Stallions are an all-star, "super band" put together by Red Horse for the event to play old favorites like "Payaso", and "Banal na Aso, Santong Kabayo". Nino was part of it, and so was Ebe of Sugarfree, Marc Abaya, Mong of Chico, Brian of Razorback, Aya and Tim of Imago, and Gabi of Urbandub. It was a fun performance, even though Mong only showed up during the middle of the last song (wahahaha!)
3) Greyhoundz- played their soon-to-be first single, "Apoy", off their up-coming album 3rd album. The guys have it going pretty tight. They've been recording like mad, and it sounds like it's going to be a good one. I like it best. :-)
4) Razorback- i was lucky enought to catch them play again! I was even extra lucky because they played "Nakaturo Sa Iyo", one of my favorite songs which they rarely play. Yay! Kevin Roy was one of the hosts for the evening and I had plenty of time to observe his... strange hair-cut. During one instance wherein little, fan-girl me was possessed with a sudden audacity, I threw him a wink (where did I learn to be so baduy?). He replied by sticking his tongue out and wrinkling his nose in a manner that was almost grotesque. I was in fan-girl heaven!
Nino even introduced me to Brian Velasco, and he was like, "Diba nandun ka sa last gig?". Oh my. I must start keeping a lower profile. My fan-girlness is becoming too obvious (as if it hasn't been).
I had a great time with my sweety-pie! Nyehehe! :-)
dear mr. bush,
You're probably surprised to hear from little, old, me. What would a little Filipino kid have to say to the president of the United States? Well, I'm writing you because 21 years ago, I was born on the very same soil that you now govern. Though I grew up in the Philippines, I have a little sheaf of shiny, laminated paper that says I am a citizen of that soil I was born on, making you my legal president.
Well, the other morning, my father gave me a very worried talk at our breakfast table. He has heard talk of the possibility of the US Army resorting to an old solution called drafting, in an effort to replenish lost troops. It means that you just might decide on taking regular, peace-loving American citizens above 18 years of age away from their lives, and sending them off to go to war. The war in Iraq. The war that you started.
My father is very worried, Mr. Bush. See, he doesn't want to see his daughter being drafted to join the US Army and possibly participate in a war that we previously had nothing to do with. It's not just me he's worried about. He's worried about my cousins, his nieces and nephews who all hold a US passport and who are all elligible for being drafted into the US Army.
I don't know just how true the possibility is of it all happening. But I'm sure you understand how my father is feeling. You would. You're a father, too. You wouldn't want to see your litte daughters being sent of to fight a war they're not prepared for, would you? I'm not so very different from your daughters, Mr. President. I have even crossed paths with one of your daughters. I am not so very far away from you.
I'll be frank with you, Mr. Bush. I do not support your war. I am outraged at the possibility of you sending innocent American citizens to destroy your declared enemy. Instead of sending kids to fight your war, why don't you do it yourself.
That way, I can rid myself of this incredulous fear I have of my life ending early... in Iraq.
Love,
Ala
p.s. Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous and maybe I don't even have a reason to worry. I certainly hope it turns out that way. Feel free to correct me.
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at 10:49 AM 56 Comments!
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
big boobs, pink nipples, and cellullite (lots of it)
A favorite past time of mine is going to the neighbourhood grocery store to raid the beauty and health-care section. You're always bound to see something new and interesting. You see all the pretty shiny products lined up so neatly, the expensive products like L' oreal, Nivea, St. Ive's, then down to the more averagely-priced products like Ponds, and Johnson and Johnson's. As some philosopher dude once said (I think it was Aquinas), there are levels or degrees of perfection, some things being more perfect than others, and some things being less (that was a very glib sentence, thank you). Meaning, if there is a shelf full of expensive, high-end products like the aforementioned ones, further down the aisle, there's bound to be another shelf filled with products that are just the opposite: cheap, tacky, suspicious, questionable! In the case of Rustan's Supermarket in Katipunan, this line of beauty products that possess...er, a lesser degree of perfection is found at the very end of the beauty aisle, down, down beside the discreetly displayed "KY Jelly".
Me and my friend Charlene went exploring in the beauty section today and got so lost in all the stuff that we didn't realize we had stumbled into a bad part of town, the Quiapo of the beauty section. At first we felt scared, lost, apprehensive amongst all the scary packaging. But in the end, we managed to have a good laugh over some of them.
In fact, I even took pictures of some of them. What losers we are.
Strep Bust Cream
See your cup size grow from a mere A-cup to a whopping size C in a matter of days! Just like the Pamela Anderson look-alike chick on the box! Nice of them to name the cream after a viral throat infection (strep throat).
It was too bad I wasn't able to get a photo of the side with instructional diagrams showing you how to rub the cream "from the base of the breast till above the nipple in a zig-zag fashion", much like how an adolescent boy cops a feel...er, never mind.
Dream Woman Anti-Cellulite Cream
Okay ... I just know there's something here that they didn't quite understand. Read caption on packaging: "Prevent the treatment of cellullite"
Eh??? I'm sure they meant the opposite, but thanks to a well-meaning graphic artist who unfortunately had confused English, they ended up with packaging that screams: "Women, if you would like to maintain your cellulite, buy this product". I am sure that small typo (if a typo we may call it) has just cost their company a significant amount of loss.
Too bad. The product would probably sell like hotcakes had they brushed up a little on their English. After all it is an "Advanced US Formula" (it says so on the package), and come on, who could resist a name like "Dream Woman"?
Pink Nipple Cream
This one is my personal favorite. This Pink Nipple Cream is to be rubbed on the nipples each day for a week to get "soft, gentle, pink nipples" (that's verbatim from the box).
As opposed, I suppose, to hard, ferocious, brown nipples??? Whoo whee. Surely we must all be responsible for sparing our husbands/lovers such a frightening and offensive sight! Women, let us use this cream to tame our hard, rebellious, insolent brown nipples into pink, meek, gentle submission. AHAHAHAHA!
Check out the "Before/After" picture on the package! See how your horrid old brown nipple turns pink and supple after only a week of using Pink Nipple Cream!
And my twisted mind shows through once again.
Ok, that's enough.
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Monday, September 20, 2004
template love
Check out my dad's blog! I made his new template with my puny HTML skills. Please wait a few seconds for everything to load and pay special attention to the header.
That's all! Carry on to my next post which is one about RAZORBACK! I know I've written dozens of Razorback entries but this one has pictures! :-p
Go! Read!
Saturday, September 18, 2004
oh, kay sarap uminom, mamawis, at makinig ng rakenroll !!!!
subtitled: another Razorback fan entry
Pumunta kami sa 70's Bistro kagabi upang mapanood ang isa sa mga pinaka-astig na banda sa Pilipinas: Razorback!!! They haven't played since their guitarist David Aguirre left for the US indefinitely. In keeping with their standards of being tisoy, suave, and gwapo, they got Manuel Legarda of Wolfgang as his temporary replacement. It's been a loooooong time since they performed, and the bar was overflowing with rock-thirsty fans!!! It's a miracle we were even able to squeeze in! What people will do to hear good music.
It's been awhile since I listened to any of my Razorback CDs, but as soon as I walked in and heard them start "Dagat ng Pag-asa", the fire was alive in me again. AAAAWWWW!!!! The bar was stuffy, and congested, and I could feel myself getting more sticky and slimey by the minute. My hair was plastered to my face, and I couldn't move an inch without hitting some else with my elbow. But I had enough space to toss my head, I had a bottle of beer in my hand, and Razorback was playing. Ang saraaaap! It's rare that you get to feel the unbelievable thrill of seeing your idols play.
It's been awhile since I've let out a good, primal roar, the kind where your lips curl back and your teeth are bared. It's times when I see good rock music performed live that make me wish I was born a man, just so I can rock out. It's not the same when you're a woman.
Razorback has been known to play a legendary 4-6 hours straight, but last night, they ended after only two hours. Baduuuuuuy!!! But I guess it's because they didn't have David with them, and Manuel didn't know alot of the songs. Everyone left, still with a beer buzz, an adrenaline high, and a thirst that was far from being fully quenched. But nonetheless, we got our much-needed dose of Razorback.
YEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!!!
anyway... PICTURES!!!!
Kasama ko si Nino, my sweety, who so patiently puts up with my Razorback fandom, and takes me to their gigs just to make me happy.
Kasama ko rin si little brother Mio, the only other person in my family who shares in my Razorback fandom.
And we bumped into this person there and ended up sitting with him. Hehe! :-p Si Alds!
After the show, Kevin Roy walked past me but didn't see me. My pulse fluttered anyway. Hehehe! Fan girl, fan girl!
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Thursday, September 16, 2004
a neruda-inspired post with visuals
Thinking tangling shadows
You are far away too, oh farther than anyone.
Thinking, freeing birds, dissolving images,
burying lamps.
Who are you
who are you?
Haaay. I had nothing to write, but I just spent my morning on Photoshop and Imageready and wanted to post something. Because giving credit is important: the poem is a bunch of excerpts from Neruda's "Thinking Tangling Shadows"
don't eat junk food. don't think junk thoughts
You will soon come to realize that the picture on the left has absolutely nothing to do with this post. I just think it's pretty. It was taken during my shoot with Katwo and I spent all morning playing with it.
Anyways, I've been doing alot of quiet soul-searching for awhile, observing myself, trying to understand why I act, and think, and feel the way I do in different situations. One thing I realized is that I've been unconsciously fostering a kind of inner rejection.
I took alot of rejection over college: rejection from people I cared for, social rejection, workplace rejection, and I realized that these rejections have come to mean more to me than the times when I have actually been welcomed and accepted. The rejection is always there, lurking. Just look at how it manifests. I belittle everything I do. I either don't give myself credit for anything I accomplish, or I do just the opposite and over-credit myself. I don't mingle in parties as much as I used to because approaching someone and finding out whether he/she wants to talk to me is just too much for me to handle. I quit even before I start creating something, because in my head, I've already rejected what I was going to create.
I used to be so much more creative, social, and take-charge. Now I rely too much on affirmation from others, the temporary but fleeting high you get from a compliment. Then I crash back into the rejection.
It's time to start being more aware of the different ways I sabotage myself, junk thoughts that don't do me any good. There is just no time for it anymore.
i really, really, really want...
... a copy of Dr. Seuss's Happy Birthday To You.
It was one of favorite books as a kid, and long after I stopped believing in fairy tales, and all the stories I'd read in books, I'd still secretly wish that the Birthday Bird would pay me a visit on my birthday!!!
I was at "A Different Bookstore" a few days ago and was thrilled to see that all the Dr. Seuss books were coming back into print. All except for "Happy Birthday To You". I even tried to order the book, but they only had it in cassette form. Why would I want a cassette???
However, I did manage to find another old book that I have been searching for for 8 years. It was one of those fantastic stories I used to relive over and over in my head, with myself playing the main character. It was called "The Perilous Gard" by Elizabeth Marie Pope. I loved it in high school, but somebody stole my copy (I suspect it was my old car-pool mate), and it never came back into print. I've yearned for the book ever since. Old books are like old friends. You never stop missing them.
I found it on Amazon last week, selling for $5.00... plus the shipping which cost $25.00. Five times the actual price of the book!!! While I was at aforementioned bookstore a few days ago, the clerk asked me what I looking for. The truth was, I wasn't really looking for anything, and I didn't want her to know that I was just loitering, and secretly tearing off the plastic of the magazines while she wasn't looking. She must've noticed it though. The crinkling sound of scotch tape tearing off plastic is pretty hard to disguise. So I mentioned "The Perilous Gard", just to pretend I was reallly looking for something, and even though I knew they didn't have it.
She typed it into the data-base, and surprise, surprise! They said it was available for order in paperback, for a mere fee of 560 pesos, shipping and all! Whoopee!!! What a stroke of luck!
Like what the Good Book says, "Behave suspiciously and you shall be asked. Loiter and you shall find". Something like that.
Yay!
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Saturday, September 11, 2004
M stands for marriage and misery
Yesterday, we formally closed module two of our writing class with lunch in the beautiful Calamba home of our teacher, Tweetums Gonzales. I've spent the last 8 Tuesdays of my life with these women, my classmates. I used to feel awkward that I was the only person below age 40 in that class, but through our sessions, I’ve grown to find it refreshing. Still, I'm very quiet during writing class, even though I’m a chatterbox in real life I feel a little embarrassed talking about my puny 21 years of life, my friends, and my relationships, when they’re all sharing their stories of menopause, marriage, divorce, strokes, their children, their grandchildren, etc. I just can't relate, and I start feeling like a young'un who has a lot to learn about life. I really enjoy listening, though. It helps me anticipate what's in store for me once I stop being young, wild, and foolish (I’ll be old, wild, and foolish).
On our last day together in Calamba, things got particularly intense. The discussion turned to marital misery, domestic squabbles, and the big "D"- divorce. It seemed like everyone had their own story to tell about their children growing old and fighting them, deteriorating relationships, separation, leaving their husbands, and never wanting to get married again. “What for?”, they said.
As I listened to these age forty-something women yakking about their lives and their (failed) relationships, I could feel my heart slowly getting heavier and sinking into my stomach. My dreams of finding a happy, lasting marriage, and raising a happy family slowly began to seem unattainable, possible only to a select few. I know I’ll never know what marriage is like until I actually got married. But all in all, before that comversation, I thought I had a pretty grounded, realistic view of what marriage was through talks with my parents, and that goddamned Theology 151 they made us take in Ateneo. But I could feel that vision of a realistic, working marriage turn into a cold, hard feeling of disillusionment. Did life only get more and more difficult through the years? Life doesn’t get any easier it seems. Your relationships will fail, your children will resent you, your family will only grow more and more distant, and until you’re so fed up, that you’d rather spend the rest of your life alone than live it with someone else.
They probably noticed how quiet I was the whole time and so they asked me how I felt about being the youngest person in the class. When I shared to them how disillusioned I felt after listening to theirs stories, they all suddenly looked a little surprised and guilty at the same time, they way adults look when after talking animatedly about sex, they realize a little child was in the room listening. If it’s inappropriate to talk about sex in front of little kids, does it go the same way with the subject of divorce and young adults?
They all reacted at the same time, “Oh, don’t be disillusioned Ala!”
“Marriage is something we all have to go through when the time is right.”
“Besides, life would be so boring if everything went according to plan, right? It’s the surprises that make it interesting.”
For some reason, that didn’t make me feel any better.
We decided to head back home to QC, and I decided to make one last trip to the bathroom. One of my classmates, Lucy, who had been quiet the whole time, went after me. She smiled. “Don’t be disillusioned, Ala. I, for one, am very happily married. That’s why I don’t talk. Marriage is something that can work.”
Well, I thought, that’s another side to it now.
I, for one, grew up with happily married parents. Oh, I know they weren’t always happy. Sometimes I see how they can make each other’s lives truly miserable. I’ve seen them sometimes get so fed up with each other that it didn’t seem like they ever wanted to deal with each other ever again. I’m sure they’ve regretted marrying each other at more than one point in their lives. I’m sure that many times, they have been tempted to give up on it, to leave. But I know that there is no marriage that isn’t like that. It happens when two individuals make a binding promise to share equally individual destinies with each other. But you have to choose at every minute whether you want give up, or if you want to keep working on it. I read somewhere that marriage isn’t supposed to make you happy, it’s supposed to make you married. Happiness is something that comes if you work on the marriage. Oh but these are just ramblings of a young’un who has never been married and who probably knows next to nothing.
It’s good to listen to older people talk about these things though. Years ago, they were just like me, young, and probably full of anticipation for the life that was to come. And along with that, a bunch of silly, and unrealistic notions of romance. Well, you gotta shatter those notions sooner or later if you want to grow up. But you shouldn’t let disillusionment make you pessimistic. Relationships should be a balance of reality and hope.
how life has changed after a night of television
Since I never watch TV, it’s always and event when I do. We’ve only had one working TV in our house for the past 4 years, and it’s in my parent’s room, and they’re always watching the news. I stopped watching when college started and I don’t miss it. But a few days ago I allowed myself a rare moment alone with the television, not our TV, Nino’s TV. We watched this show called “When Animals Attack” on AXN, and holy moly! The program showed real-life accounts and footage of people being maimed by wild animals like mountain lions, bears, elephants, sharks, killer bees… even whales! The whole time I was at the edge of my seat watching with utter horror but I couldn’t peel my eyes off the screen, or change the channel for that matter. You gotta admit, violence can be pretty compelling sometimes. There is something mesmerizing about seeing a grown man being eaten head first by a great white shark.
And after each segment of the show, after they bombard you with these traumatizing images, they interview an “animal expert” to say a few words on how to avoid being attacked by the animal they just showed. Like if they just showed a person being attacked by a mountain lion, sure enough, up next would be a “mountain lion expert”. It was a perfect formula. First they take you to the pits of horror and traumatize you to death. Then they lead you to salvation by telling you how to prevent the same thing from happening to you. Who wouldn’t listen? How can those words not be forever etched in the viewers’ minds forever and ever?
Anyway, after a mere one night of channel surfing, watching different features on AXN, Discovery, and National Geographic, I am now convinced of the following things:
1) Neil Armstrong’s landing on the moon was a hoax created by NASA to get the best of the Russians!!! That’s what the conspiracy theorists say. On the side, can you imagine what it would be like to be married to a conspiracy theorist? Imagine what you’ll fight about. Imagine how warped your kids’ minds will be.
2) Television makes you worry about things you normally wouldn’t even think about if you hadn’t seen it on TV in the first place. I am now terrified of being dragged 40 feet below the ocean’s surface by a whale, getting attacked by a bear, and being stung by a horde of killer bees.
In AB Communications, I think this is what they call the “Agenda Setting Theory of Communication”. (diba, Bianca?)
...and more TV!
Finally took some time off to indulge in a few hours of watching home videos! Yesterday, me, Aycs, and Gina got together to watch Havanna Nights: Dirty Dancing 2. Between Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna, I’ve always been more of a Gael fan. But after the movie, I can say the crush scale has been leveled. I watched it, squealing like an adolescent schoolgirl, and screaming vulgar things at all the raunchy parts. Hey you’re never too old to get kilig over movies that try to make you kilig on purpose.
I now want a hot, latin boy to dance with me and whisper dirty, Spanish things into my ear. AAAWWW!
Inspired by Diego’s dance moves, we decided to join the Latin Groove class in Fitness First the next day. It was a combination of Latin dancing and aerobics. Our classmates were all mothers and old ladies, and we had a gay instructor. As I tried in vain to keep in step with the music, and shake my (non-existent) hips, I saw my Diego dreams melting away. The reality is, I can’t dance.
Ah, but I can fantasize!
ladies and gentlemen
I am proud to announce that 3 months after her chemotherapy, my mother has been declared cancer free! Congratulations to my mother, the warrior. She carries herself like one, and even wears her hair like one. This, of course, is only the beginning of many years’ worth of preventive care and maintenance. But every victory is still a victory.
Congratulations, ma!
This October, she is going to appear as cover girl of the maiden issue of ”The Big C”, a magazine for cancer patients.
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Monday, September 06, 2004
confessions of a young adult drama queen
That insane woman in "bling bling" garb beside a langka tree is me. I spent the weekend doing pro bono shoots for my two stylist/designer friends. One was Katwo, awesome, hot-babe lead singer of the great band, Narda. Those are actually her clothes I'm wearing. That girl, talaga. Always the stylish one. After knowing her since grade school, I found out that she doesn't have pierced ears. No wonder she never wore funky earings with all the mean stuff she used to wear. It's just funny to think that someone who is so known for her style doesn't have pierced ears.
Anyway, Katwo wants to add "stylist" to her repertoire and she needed a portfolio, and a model who wouldn't charge her anything: me! Her fiance Nico did the photography and the art direction. He is awesome! We did a very feminine "Lazy Sunday" theme, and a very decadent "Bling, Bling" theme where I posed on the front seat of a car with leather seats, in an impossibly short skirt, with both my legs up on the dashboard. Jackson pose! (note: "Jackson"-code word for "very hot chick". I used to find it offensive in college. Now I think it's funny :-p)
We did many car poses, and I loved all the shots but that picture above is one of my favorites. It was our last shot and it's so silly. It was my idea. I wanted a picture looking maangas beside a langka tree. It's obviously not going to be part of the portfolio, hehe. Wala lang.
The other shoot I did was for my friend Twinkle Ferraren who designs under the designer Dita Sandico Ong. She had beautiful pieces, all made of banana fiber and other local materials. Beautiful clothes and Pinoy talaga! My genius friend Becky did the photography. Great, interesting shots!
I like doing these pro bono shoots every now and then. It doesn't matter that I don't get paid. It's fun because we all get to experiment. When I do shoots for ads, they always want something specific, and they always want the same thing. They want you to smile like you're trying to sell something. But with little projects like this, everyone gets to let loose, and I get to act a little naughtier for the camera (being the camera whore that I am).
Posing for a camera always makes me feel just a little guilty because I know I was one of those vain, little girls who grew up spending hours in front of a mirror, pulling different expressions, when I thought no one was looking. No wonder I'm such a drama queen. Always have been. But I feel guilty for being so maarte though I manage to hide it well under normal circumstances.
I was a strange kid. I used to walk around dressed as a princess. I'd wear one of those huge, frilly, "Little Miss Philippines" gowns, a tiara, gold shoes, and Barbie make-up, and walk slowly around the house with my head held high. I'd make my rounds, inspecting my imaginary kingdom, with my most loyal subjects, our two dogs, following me around. My mom would ask me why I'd walk so slowly, and my answer would always be, "Because princesses don't run". Hahaha! Even then I was madrama. No wonder I enjoy pretending to be someone else.
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Saturday, September 04, 2004
It's happened again
I wake up, head downstairs for some breakfast, and while I wait, I pick up the morning paper. And there it was. The terrible news.
Time and time again, I've fooled myself into thinking that I live in a civilized age where acts of inhumanity and cruelty don't really happen anymore. But every now and then, the news awakens me to the reality that outside my safe, sheltered sphere, acts of inhumanity and senseless violence are performed everyday.
When I was a kid, it was easy to think of these things as not being real, happening in far-away places to foreign peoples who had nothing to do with me. Nowadays, the world has evolved in such a way that practically everyone in the world is your next door neighbour, and it's not as easy to live in blissful ignorance anymore. Those are our children getting killed, our men getting killed in wars, tortured in prison, our families starving.
And the drama continues.
bayan ko
A day after last week's typhoon, I was in Fitness First inside one of the rooms that was built high up, but directly beside the Marikina River, and therefore had an immediate view of it. The water level had risen at least ten feet, and the river, usually crawling at a lazy pace, was now raging angrily. I peered out the window, and right across me, on the opposite bank, I saw several shanties, the first floors of which had been completely submerged in the water. Around the shanties were parents and children, swimming around the exposed tops of the banana trees that were also submerged.
I stared at it and thought it was surreal. You usually see this sort of thing on the front page of a newspaper with a caption saying that it happened in some far-off province. But there I was, in a warm, cozy, gleaming gym in elitist Eastwood, staring 50 feet away from me at a family who had just lost their home in a flood. Once again, I felt the sharpness of the divide, between the people who could afford to throw away a little money to maintain their bodies in an expensive gym, and people who had to struggle just to maintain a basic, human need: shelter.
People passing leisurely time in a high, dry, luxurious gym, separated by a raging river from people swimming around in a flood next to their shanties: Pilipinas. It was a living analogy. A defining moment.
The others who were with me in the gym also came to stare at the sight, and uttered things like "Woah", and "Grabe", but generally, nobody really felt it was any of their business. People are just so desensitized to calamity in this country. Things like this happen everyday.
Hay, Pilipinas.
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