Saturday, October 29, 2005
ghosts of halloweens past
It's almost Halloween and it's going to be the first in a long time where I won't be dressing up in costume. What a shame. Halloween is one of my favorite days of the year. I love any opportunity to go out looking wacky.
Childhood is full of sweet Halloween memories for me, the time of year when our house would be draped in cobwebs, and orange and black crepe paper. I was the type of kid who always won costume contests because I was always game for anything. I always have good costumes, whether I spent two weeks making it, or just put it together an hour before stepping out of the house.
I also used to plan the neighbourhood Halloween party back when I was little. My mom would organize everything but I'd plan everything from the decor, to the games, to the awards, to the "main attraction" which was a yearly surprise for the guests.
It started out when I was 8 years old when me, my sister, and my neighbour Gina planned Halloween party on a whim. We invited 6 other neighbourhood kids 3 days ahead of time and gave hand-crafted awards for the best costumes. We made fake tombstones out of styrofoam and black shoe-polish, made "corpses" by stuffing my dad's old clothes with newspaper, and turned our garden into a "grave yard"
The main attraction however (and our main reason for wanting to throw a party in the first place) was the "Haunted House", which was the bedroom I shared with my sister. My room is quite big, and we had spent the last two weeks hanging "cobwebs" from the ceiling (long pieces of yarn), scattering rubber snakes on the corners, and drawing monsters, witches, and demons on paper and sticking them on the walls. Our room was dripping with these creepy creatures! We even bought this Halloween soundtrack on cassette, which made evil laughter, werewolf howls, and terrified screams blare through out our room. On the day of the party, we covered the floor with shampoo, lotion, talcum powder, and baby oil for "slime" (my mother was furious as you can imagine).
At around 6 pm, when it was good and dark, our nervous guests, mostly 6 to 7 year old children, stood timidly outside our bedroom door. Our rule was that each guest could only go in one at a time, barefoot. My sister, dressed as a zombie, would beckon each guest to step into the cobwebbed, slime-covered darkness. The door would slam behind the terrified child and he/she would be taken on a quided tour of the Haunted House which included a "corpse" (my neighbour in a scary mask) leaping out of a "coffin" (a maleta), other neighbourhood kids leaping out of the shadows; and of course, the final stop, which was myself dressed as a witch, cackling and stirring my "cauldron" (which was actually just the toilet bowl. Don't ask.), pointing a crooked finger at the poor guest and threatening to boil him/her alive.
It was all cheesy, makeshift, home-crafted horror but the neighbourhood kids would run out screaming, some of them crying, slipping on baby oil and shampoo. Maybe we overdid it sometimes. The truth is, we weren't very gentle. Our guests would be trapped in a dark room being pushed and yanked at from all directions. Despite that all our masks, costumes, and materials were bought from National Bookstore, it is with great pride that we managed to create a very real and severely traumatizing experience for many of the neighbourhood children.
From then on, our parties were a big and yearly occasion for the entire neighbourhood. From 8 guests on the first year, to 20 the next, and 40 the next, our party was even sponsored by Mcdonald's once, and was featured in a newspaper's lifestyle section. It was we who organized the very first Loyola Heights trick or treat.
The grave yard became more elaborate each year as we added more tombstones, corpses, bones, even some dry ice for mist. And of course, there was the yearly "main attraction". The Haunted House took too much man-power (and ruined our floors), so the year after that, we set up a tent in the garden and my sister, dressed as a gipsy, would tell people's fortunes on her crystal ball (which was actually a large, glass, lightbulb covering, like a fishbowl). All the guests were given pretty much the same fortune which all foretold their near and untimely demise. Upon exiting the tent, each guests would be treated to a surprise attack by the grim reaper: my neighbour Gina dressed as Death, weilding a sickle.
The next year, we set up the same tent in the garden and made fake body parts like brains, eyeballs, a human heart, etc., and each guests would be made to reach into each icky bowl and feel around.
Ah, I could go on and on, and this entry would stretch on to 5 pages. Halloween was always that time of year where I could let my imagination soar and make things happen. Every one had fun. Even my mom would dress in costume. Halloween parties just aren't the same anymore. At this age it's all about heading to some house party at the NBC tent. What bugs me is that most people are corny and hardly make any effort to come in a decent costume (unlike I who will only go either go all out, or just not come in costume at all). I miss the orange and black Halloweens of my childhood. I can't wait for Ananda to grow older so I can make Halloween awesome for her and plan parties for her friends.
As a closing, here are pictures from last Halloween where Nino and I came as a duo and won 10,000 pesos at a televised costume contest at The Fort!band kwento
I just realized that Hiraya has had ten gigs for this month alone. Wow. That's a pretty good amount. I never imagined it would be like this but gigs just keep on coming.
Last night we played in Saguijo and I was a bit nervous because all the Ateneo band people were there, that barkada of guys who all grew up together and are now in all these big bands like Greyhoundz, Chicosci, Happy Meals, Kjwan... you get the idea. It's never just "wala-lang" when I play in front of those people because number 1, they've known me for the past 3 years as Nino's quiet girlfriend who tags along during gigs; and number 2, I look up to many of them as musicians, so of course I want to do well. The gig turned out alright. Made a few mistakes but I don't beat myself up over those anymore. In the end, people are willing to look over a few small mistakes and will remember your presence, your energy, and the music. I'm not so nervous anymore than when I first started. I was always afraid of messing up but now I trust myself more and find it easier to get into the music. Two of my friends say I need more "groove" and should dance more, hahaha! That's a challenge because I'm just not a groovy person. But at least I have balls. :-p
I think people generally get taken aback when they see me perform for the first time. For a girl-fronted group, I guess you can say our sound is a little heavier than the usual. I mean, it's not Kitchie, or Barbie, or Session Road, and you can actually head-bang to some parts. It's not overly-sensitive chick rock.
Last night, we did our cover of Razorback's "Nakaturo Sa Iyo" and their drummer, Brian Velasco, was there. HAHAHA! He stood outside the window the whole time watching Pau play drums and giving a joking thumbs up sign every time Pau would get it right. Funny! Afterwards he went up to us and said "I like, I like", but maybe he was just being polite, hahaha!:-p
Saw my friend Sib's band, Day One Movement perform and they've improved so much. They've gotten it together and seem more confident and at ease. Good job!something i gotta get off my chest
And lastly, I'd just like to vent how poorly artists are treated. I know that unless you're a big, mainstream hit like Hale, or Cueshe, or Kitchie, or Bamboo, there is no way you're going to make a living out of making music. There is a reason why the term "starving artist" was coined. Most of us are here because we love it, not because we're going to make money out of it.
We appreciate it when poor bars or organizers give us a few hundred peso bills as honorarium, or even some sort of token. Most of the time, for small bar gigs and productions, we don't get anything at all, but that's understandable, and that's the way it is. People who plan events for starving musicians are starving music lovers themselves.
But what bugs me is when huge, rich corporations throw events, ask small bands to play, and don't give them any compensation at all. It's not like they don't have any money to spare for the talents that make up the bulk of their show and provide the entertainment they need. Ok, so you can argue that if one band won't do it for free, you can always find another band that will. Alot of artists come cheap. But still, it's not fair. Bands spend time, effort, and gas money to play at these events. Do companies feel they're doing these small bands a favor by giving them an opportunity to play? Don't they know that most of the time, it's the artists doing them a favor? Not all bands are desperate for gigs.
It's especially unfair when corporations pay the bigger bands, and don't shell out anything at all for the smaller, lesser known bands playing at the same event. This means that they do have budget to pay artists and just don't to pay all of them. It always feels like exploitation. If tiny bars and poor organizers can afford to give artists even a hundred bucks each, what more these big, high-budget companies? If you have more than enough means to pay artists, then pay artists.
I used to complain over getting paid only a 4-digit talent fee for a night of hosting, until Nino told me to stop complaining because I can at least earn that much for a few hours of "making pa-cute", while he sometimes earns 50 pesos for a 4 hour set, playing all-original songs that took time, effort, money, blood, sweat, and tears to record and perfect.
Now I know what he means.
Maybe we need a manager.
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at 3:48 PM 19 Comments!
Sunday, October 23, 2005
tricked and treated
"Trick or Treat, Sunday, 3PM" was what the poster in Eastwood read. So I, my sister, my brother, and our neighbour Gina got all excited today and dressed Ananda up in her frilliest dress and practically forced her to wear my pixie wings for her first trick or treat. We even painted her cheeks pink.
We got there early and waited for the other costumed kids to arrive... and waited, and waited, and waited. An hour later when there were still no costumed toddlers within the vicinity, it dawned on us that we had gotten something wrong.
"Aycs, are you sure you got the date right?", I asked my sister. "Maybe the trick or treat is next week."
"I'm positive. I even called the Eastwood office earlier today", she said.
The afternoon wore on, and Ananda was getting itchy in her costume. Still no kids. Something was wrong. But what?
A few minutes later, when the costumed guests started arriving, it became apparent that we had definitely missed an important detail.
Mardi Gras Bulldog/ 1920s Chihuahua/ Angelic puppy/ Dino doggy/ Witch Chihuahua!
We reread the poster and realized that it said "trick or treat for your pet", and it turned out that it was a costume contest for dogs sponsored by PAWS.
So there we were with a slightly irritable baby, all dressed up like a sugarplum fairy and holding an empty bag that would never be filled with candy. Poor kid. We changed her back into comfier clothes and wiped off the make-up.
But we all ended up having a blast looking at all the dressed up dogs and cats. Some of the owners also came in costumes that matched their pets! Alot of the costumes even looked home-made! There were kids, whole families, and even young married couples participating with their alaga. It gave me such a kick knowing that there were loving pet owners who really prepared for this event!
There were dogs dressed as witches, pumpkins, zombies... even a boxer, an Ateneo cheer dancer, and the Power Puff Girls!
So yeah, we sure got tricked by that poster but ended up with a nice treat all the same. Ananda was so excited! See all the pics here!
Geeks will be geeks!
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Thursday, October 20, 2005
kwento-kwento nalang
Pweh! Wala akong masulat. Kwento-kwento nalang.
1) I'm excited about a bunch of projects for the upcoming month! Might be doing some filming out of the country, and might be doing some exciting volunteer work for Green Peace which I hope pushes through! I really think it will be such a grand learning experience to work with the one of the biggest environmental activists in the world. That's what I'm most excited about: learning. Awareness is always the first step towards change.
I remember when I was growing up, my parents would buy me so many children's books on how to recycle, plant trees, segregate garbage, how to cut down on waste, and conduct tests on how clean the air is. During that time, my dad was leading the Green Earth Movement, and probably wanted to instill a little of that earth awareness in me. I even joined the Earth Saver's Club in grade school. Haha! That was a long time ago, but I'm excited to partake in this. Mother earth is always a good cause, and I've always wanted to help out in my own way. Hopefully it pushes through.
2) I keep seeing my high school classmates everywhere! All of a sudden, all these people I haven't seen since graduation are popping up in unexpected places. Well, sometimes it's not so unexpected, like when I had dinner at Gerry's Grill, Libis last night with my high school lunch mates. Two of them had just passed their accounting board exam, which was cause for celebration.
Seeing my high school friends always makes me realize what a different person I am now. Makes me wonder whether I've really changed, or whether I've always been this way and was just in the closet about it then. High school was so restrictive. You weren't allowed to stick out too much, weren't allowed to speak freely, and I always felt like roles were so rigid, making it hard to grow and discover new sides to yourself.
College was the complete opposite, and I took that liberty to discover what else I could be outside the confines of high school. What other talents did I have? What was I capable of accomplishing? What were my real thoughts on society, sexuality, religion, relationships, etc. when I wasn't being spoon fed what I should think about these things? In a way, I have changed but then again, maybe I just became the person I always secretly was.
But when I'm with my high school friends, somehow the old me still manages to emerge, and I realize she is still very much a part of me. Oh... I don't really know. :-p
3) I realized after writing #2 that I loved, loved, loved my college years, heart aches and all. They were some of the richest years of my life, and I miss it.
4) I just came from band practice. I'm glad I'm getting more confident about this band thing. I know I should loosen up more on stage, but I've always been one of those uncoordinated people who are terrible at dancing, sports, or anything involving moving the body. But a frontwoman who doesn't move is simply unacceptable. Hence, I try to move around a little even though I probably look like an idiot.
I still get nervous when there's someone I know in the audience, or when we're playing with another female fronted band that totally kicks a**. That's when I need a quick ego boost, anything to make me feel good and confident, any passing thought I can grab at and hold on to to make me feel like I'm the sh*t. They range from the petty (i.e. "I'm prettier/ taller than her" or "My outfit is nicer" or "Ha! I can sing that note better than she does") to the downright mean (i.e. "Naku! Di siya marunong kumanta!" or "Ha! Sumablay siya!!"). These thoughts are never seriously meant, of course. I just want to believe these thoughts right at the moment itself because I desperately need a dose of confidence, and if I don't get it, I will be so jittery and my performance will go down the drain. I just need a confidence crutch for the meantime. But right when my set is over and I can breathe a sigh of relief, I take back every mean thought that went through my head. I know it sounds evil, but if you're a performer still finding her footing, I'm sure you'd totally understand.
5) I cut my hair... and my bandmates didn't even notice. Aaah, men.
6) And finally, I doodled the other day (which I haven't done in a long, long time) and came up with her:
I call it "Bagong Gising" and I wanted to get that lazy sensuality in those first bleary-eyed steps towards the bathroom when you wake up in the morning.
Wala lang, I like her even if she's just a doodle.
I love drawing women's bodies with realistic proportions, probably because I never had the so-called ideal body of our time.
Pardon the huge font. I'm trying to take up space hehehe. Man, what a useless entry.
Have a good weekend, everybody!
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Saturday, October 15, 2005
an honest entry
I've been going around the whole hosting-modeling-TV circuit for four years now. I started the year I turned 18, and have forever been in denial that this is where my life is heading. I've refused to accept that it's all real. Even being on the number 1 music channel for a year-and-half, and endorsing a face wash, a telecom company, and a clothing brand wasn't enough to make it all "real". Four years and I'm still cautious and reluctant with every new project that comes my way, still afraid that I'll eventually turn into some 2-dimensional character, a pretty, pleasant puppet framed by product endorsements and TV shows.
I get scared. I get scared that I'll start believing in my own hype, lose my identity, and settle for nothing but looking pretty and being perfectly pleasant, the whole sugar-and-spice-and-everything-nice deal, all for the approval of the viewing public, who's commendment will help me earn my living. I've been scared from the beginning. If I wasn't scared, I would have rebonded my hair a long time ago, joined showbiz, gotten a manager, and would probably be rolling in dough now. Not to say that rebonding your hair, joining showbiz, and getting a manager is bad. It's just that I was never compelled to do so, even though I know that path probably would have gotten me somewhere. But I knew that the question was: would I like where it would take me?
I'm not cute enough to be in MYX (anymore), not straight-haired enough to be one of those media heart-throbs, not busty enough to pose in bikinis on glossies, too snotty to appear in noon-time shows or soaps, and too angsty and paranoid to let a manager package me and dictate to me what my "image" should be. I am surly, frizzy-haired, skinny, weird, opinionated, and I think too much. I could have fixed all that had I wanted to, and maybe I would have been five times more famous/popular, and rolling in money. But I didn't.
Yes, admittedly, I do look at my coleagues, the ones who went all the way and became show-biz stars, or supermodels, or super-hosts, with a bit of envy; envy that they're earning so much and gracing magazine covers in fabulous gowns and make-up. But then I start remembering why I didn't choose to go all the way.
I want to do alot of other things, things unrelated to all the fame, and glitz, and glamour. And when I do these things, I want to be taken as an authentic person. I'm not saying that people who have gone all the way aren't authentic. What I'm saying is that it's just harder to be taken as an authentic person once you've cemented a certain public image of yourself.
Ok, take Deither Ocampo for example and his rock band "Blow". Whether or not he makes good music is of little importance to the audience he wants to please. To most of them, he will forever be Deither Ocampo, matinee idol, 1/5 of "The Hunks"; not Deither Ocampo, rebellious, anti-establishment, rock vocalist. From the beginning, there already seemed to be some kind of collecctive refusal to accept him as a musician. It is sad when you become a victim of your own image, especially when it impedes you from doing what you love to do. It goes the same way the other way around, I guess. Rockstars, the ones who have spent all their lives tatooing themselves, and doing drugs, and looking umkempt, and acting more-rebellious-than-thou, can't ever really be models or matinee idols, even if they wanted to. And if they did, their fans would be outraged, and other people would never take them seriously.
But an image is just an image. The essential meaning of the word, in fact, is a visual representation, or reflection, or mental image pertaining to the real object or person. An image may reflect a person, and it may reflect alot of someone, but there's also very, very much it doesn't reflect, and in the end, the image and the person are still two wildly different things.
I better get straight to the point: I'm afraid of being stuck in my own image. So I try to be anti-image- but wait, doesn't that mean still getting stuck in an image? I have an anti-image image. Ok, I understand that avoiding having a set image is impossible, whether you're a movie star or a man begging on the street. To be clearer, I'm afraid of getting stuck in the image that my line of work imposes upon me. I'm afraid that people will think that the only thing I'm good for is looking pretty for the camera and being charming. I want to be able to write a book, be an artist and a musician, and champion a cause one day, without people questioning whether I'm being genuine or just trying to make money or gain popularity. When I finally do these things, I don't want to waste time just trying to prove that I'm authentic.
At the core of it, I make a living by letting others employ my looks and personality to help sell things. Despite the glitz and the glamour, this is what modeling essentially is. I have to look like and be someone that people would want to buy. This is the image I have to uphold with the kind of work I am doing at this point in my life (I won't be doing this forever). I know it's just an image, a hat or costume I take on and off as needed. This is not to say that the me you see on billboards and TV is a complete and total lie. More like, it's a part of me, but it's also light years away from being all of me.
So there, I have been modeling, hosting, and coming out on TV for four years, I have a certain amount of fame, and many times I have had to sit down quietly to figure out who I am versus who people expect me to be. I used to let the latter stop me from discovering who the former was. But since I started separating the two, I notice I have discovered peace of mind.
*** On the side, another thing I have realized after 4 years of modeling is that I actually now feel that my looks are just a packaging, an outer shell. After posing for the camera so many times, mastering what looks good and what doesn't, from my smiles, to my facial expressions, angles, and poses, I realize that I have learned to objectify myself. This is both good and bad, I suppose. On one hand, I've learned to be very matter of fact about my looks, as opposed to being vain and conceited. On the other hand, after you're face has been plastered everywhere, you don't really feel as pretty or as special anymore. You just feel like an object, one among all the other thousands of pretty objects out there.vectors, your are mine
I learned vectors the other day. Still messy but getting there.
This is a drawing of Dawn, and the picture is from our latest Penshoppe campaign.
And on the subject of vectors, I made a list of all gadgets I own. Why? Because I'm a geek (sort of). And geeks love to talk about their gear. Here they are (with matching specs):
1) Apple Macintosh Powerbook G4, 15", 1.33 GHz, 1GB Ram, combo drive, running on Panther.
2) 80 GB external firewire hard-drive, Toshiba, formatted for Mac.
3) Wacomm Intuos 2 graphic tablet, 12".
4) Labtec speakers (I don't care to know which model)
5) Apple iPod, 30 gig, 2nd generation (I think. I never really checked), with dock.
6) Altec Lansing inMotion travel speakers for the iPod.
7) An iTrip. A lousy one that doesn't work, given to me by my father because it didn't work.
8) A Sony DCR-TRV33 DV Cam.
9) A Sony T1 digicam.
10) An aqua case to go with the Sony T1 Digicam.
11)A Nokia celphone whose model I never learned because I stopped keeping track after screens went colored.
12) An Oxygen 8 Midi-keyboard to go with my Garage Band software (a present from Nino, my geek boyfriend).
13) A Phillips Sonicare electric toothbrush (hey, it's still a gadget)
14) Scientific calculator from Casio purchased in 1999.
Ah, feeling all the fancy-shmancy names and numbers of these gizmos flow off my tongue when I say them feels strangely (and disturbingly) pleasurable.
I know Nino will laugh when he reads this entry.last but not the least
Hiraya is elligible in this year's NU Rock Awards for "In The Raw". You can vote for us on October 22 at Edsa Mall Ramp, Glorietta Activity Center, or you can drop by NU 107 and vote there so we can make it to the final list of nominees. We are also in the list for "Best Live Act".
While you're at it, vote Nino Avenido for "Bassist of the Year". :-)
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Wednesday, October 05, 2005
most people have only one shadow
I have a new second shadow.
Her name is Ananda.
She follows me where ever I go from the living room, to the kitchen, to my room, all the way to my bathroom where she loves flushing the toilet and touching all the things she shouldn't touch. She imitates everything I do, and everything I say. If I brush my teeth, she'll pretend her finger is a toothbrush and will also "brush" her teeth. If I start washing my face she'll pretend she's rubbing soap on her face. She copies my exclamations.
Ditching her is not as easy as it seems. She gets mad and panics when I walk too fast and leave her behind. When I'm not with her, I hear her shrieking my name ("Awa! Awa!") downstairs. Sometimes she'll cry which makes her impossible to leave behind. (I don't know why I allow such emotional manipulation, but what the heck)
I'm not complaining. My only annoyance is that I can't get anything done with her around because she always wants to play. She picks up breakable objects, and tries to wear my high heels, and ransacks my make-up kit if it's within reach. I can't even go on my computer because she'll insist on climbing into my lap, pointing at the screen, and saying "Igg! Igg!" (her word for "egg"), because she loves the "I Love Egg" website and listening to the "I Love Egg Song". Worse, she'll make me play it over and over until I want to puke from cuteness overload. (I already memorize the song. It's that bad)
But when she watches it, she's the happiest kid in the world, her eyes sparkle and she dances and smiles at me like she's just seen the most beautiful thing in this universe. If I refuse to play it a second time, or a third time, (or a fourth, or a fifth...) she'll start crying desperately like she's absolutely broken hearted. This is where I draw the line and hand her over to her yaya because I just can't stand the Egg Song!
But sometimes I just tell myself that one day she'll be big, and won't want to follow me around or climb into my lap anymore. Things like the Egg Song won't impress her anymore. I'm not seriously annoyed. Ang kulit lang talaga.
Anyway, I put pixie wings on her the other dayvintage
I just wrote an entry on collecting vintage dresses and decided to include pictures of me wearing some of my vintage finds. Some of the dresses I have were made in the 19-somethings. I'm not exactly sure what era but definitely some time before my parents were born.
I put the dresses on, fixed my hair in a hurry and made my sister be photographer. Afterwards, I edited them to make them look old, and thought the results came out pretty cool.
I just love looking through old, sepia photos of my grandparents and have always wanted to recreate that look and era in a photoshoot.
The entry, as well as the rest of the pictures, will be up at the Nestle Yogurt Feelgood site where I contribute regularly.
I don't know if anyone else actually looks up to their lola as their style icon, but I do. I'd happily wear her dresses, shoes, and jewelry anytime (and I do sometimes when I miss her and want to remember her).
And since I am slowly beginning to not make sense, I will end this now. I need a night of good sleep.
I don't really have anything to say, I just felt like writing.
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Sunday, October 02, 2005
you know you're getting older when...
1- The first of you college friends get married!
1,2,3 LET GO!- the couple with wedding doves
Ok, so Manny was always a few years older than us, but Iea was only one batch ahead of me. Last weekend, they became Mr. and Mrs. Nepumoceno!
I remember back in college when the only occasion we'd have to get all dressed up was to go to so-and-so's 18th birthday cotillion. It's hard to believe I'm at that age where my friends are getting married!
And now receptions are extra fun because I get to go with all my friends instead of being stuck at a table full of older people I've never met.
I miss these girls!
And of course, there was lots of dancing! To the Brass Monkeys no less.
More pictures here
2- The only excuse for a get-together is to finish all the wine left over from the wedding...
... which is what we did last Friday night. Trina got pissed drunk on only 1 bottle. I'm disapointed in her. Back in college, she could drink like a man.
Are we getting old?
3- Sunday evenings are spent visiting your best friend and her baby
Nino and I go to her humongous condo in Makati, she and her husband sit me down at their dining table, ask the maid to bring me a glass of water, and we swap stories while she tends to the baby every time he starts fidgeting in his rocker.
I tell her all about gigs and gossip, and she tells me all about breast feeding and organic lettuce.
I can't believe it. I can't believe it.bubble gang toppings
We performed an acoustic set at Bubble Gang Toppings, Katipunan last night. We sound terrible unplugged. Our songs are slow enough, but without the drums, we could put people to sleep. But Boy2 Quizon, one of the owners of the place, apologized after for the lack of sound equipment and promised he'd spruce it up next time.
Well, my family came to watch since the bar was so near home: my sister Erica, my next door neighbour Gina (who is like an adopted sister), and my parents! Imagine the shock on everyone's faces when Jim Paredes and his wife walked through the door. It was one of those funny and surreal moments.
Anyway, things got even funnier when Karl Roy walked in. Erica and Gina recognized him from back in the day when he was still with his band, Advent Call. In those days, he hadn't hit it big with P.O.T. or Kapatid yet, and it's likely that to most kids born before 1983, the name Advent Call doesn't ring a bell.
Erica and Gina were 13 years old then, and shortly afterwards abandoned the band scene in favor of hip-hop. They've spent the last dozen years hitting hip-hop dance clubs and have been pretty much out of touch with recent developments in local music. So it's no surprise that "Advent Call", which disbanded about ten years ago, was the name that came to mind when Karl Roy walked through the door.
When people go up to Karl, you can tell that alot of them want to look very cool, suave, and composed, especially the ones who aren't really aquainted with him. It's always "Karl! Sir!" or "Karl! Ey, man!", followed by kamayan (or beso-beso if you're female). Basta pa-cool dapat. Si Karl Roy iyan eh.
Anyway!- after gawking at him for some time, Gina and Erica finally run up to him, and Gina shrieks, in all giddy kabaklaan: "Karl crush kita dati nung nasa Advent Call ka pa!!!! Aiyeeeee!!!" (Karl, I used to have a crush on you back when you were still in Advent Call!)
My sister whips out a camera "Pa-picture!!!" (Can we have a picture?)
I've never seen Karl Roy at a loss for what to say. The man is used to music fans approaching him, but this time he was caught completely off-guard by this giggly, pretty girl, acting like a star-struck 14 year old, shrieking the name of his group that had faded into oblivion ten years ago, despite that he had already built a name for himself with "P.O.T." and "Kapatid".
But of course, he was a good sport and posed gamely in a few snapshots for them, even putting his arms around their shoulders. She probably made his night.
Afterwards, Gina was dying with giddiness.
"I finally fullfilled my ten-year fantasy!!! I was so inlove with him when I was 13! Nagpa-undercut pa ako kasi crush ko siya! ... Oh my God, I feel like I'm 13 again!"
So said the woman who now only listens to well, hip-hop.
My sister, who originally only planned to ask him politely for a photo, was so embarrassed. "Now I can never see him again", she said.
Nevertheless, Gina cheered "Advent Call, the best!" all through out out Karl's first song number.
Anyway, I'll end with a picture my dad took because I think it's nice.
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