Thursday, December 13, 2012

Mujou, Impermanence

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Once, on the way home from a Japanese speaking workshop in Makati, R-senpai and I got into arguing about the types of anime we preferred. As a rule, I only watch one-season, mono-plot anime that revolve around the paranormal, and so R-senpai had to explain to me the perks of being a fan of 'slice of life'. There were many fine details I believe, to this day, I am better off not thinking about. For instance, Azumanga Daioh is considered 'slice of life' but Clannad is not. And so on.

Eventually we came to the term 'mono no aware'. R-senpai brought it up, and I didn't understand it then. The phrase slipped my list of things to Google until a few minutes earlier, when I became fascinated with why Kazuo Ishiguro says he doesn't write in the Japanese fashion despite how clearly - to me, at least - he thinks the Japanese way. The term 'mono no aware' is in his Wikipedia profile, here. To clarify, I've only read one book of Mr Ishiguro's, An Artist of the Floating World. But the 'mono no aware' is there, all right. The novel ends with its lead character merely, poignantly people-watching, after all.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

The Weekend I Robbed Myself

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I don't know how I managed to do it, but I actually had money at the end of the week - enough to go on food trips with friends. It was a lucky thing, too, because this weekend was probably the last time we'd see each other until 2013. If we make it to 2013, of course.

I went to these places with some of my favorite people, and because eating in each place made me inexplicably happy, I made reviews for each. [Yey!] I'd never been to any of these places before, by the way. They're listed in the order we visited them.

Ramen X, Trinoma
Fresh Selections, UP Teachers' Village
Ariake, Tomas Morato corner Scout Rallos
Baang Coffee, Tomas Morato
Bubble Tea, Tomas Morato

Christmas~




Bubble Tea

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Tokyo Bubble Tea 
Tomas Morato 
Quezon City 

For almost two weeks, M had been craving for Mango Cake. It couldn’t even be a Mango Roll – it had to be legit Mango Cake. So for the same period of time, we’ve been entering cake shops all around Quezon City, searching for her salvation in the form of Mango Cake. Finally, after traversing a considerable stretch of Tomas Morato, we found Bubble Tea. We were so comfortable with the place and the food we decided to stay there for hours.


Baang Coffee

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Baang Coffee 
Tomas Morato 
Quezon City 

After a heavy dinner, I wanted to wash down the food with coffee or tea, but didn’t want to go someplace over-the-top like Starbucks. In my head, I wanted to seek temporary caffeinated refuge in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, preferably with quaint mismatched tables and ivy vines creeping up the iron-wrought windows. But I don’t think there are any affordable cafes like that in the Tomas Morato area. Baang Coffee, seeming strangely welcoming and non-judgmental, was our final destination for coffee then.


Ariake

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Ariake 
Tomas Morato corner Scout Rallos
Quezon City

M and I have long been planning to visit this shop, mainly because in the Jdorama Ryuusei no Kizuna, Ninomiya Kazunari’s and Nishikido Ryo’s and Erika Toda’s characters own a shop with the same name. We were admittedly intimidated by the setup of the restaurant though, because it looks too sophisticated and respectable for a pair of poor and perpetually hungry college students like the two of us. In any case, several months after we first heard of the place, we went. Because fangirls will be fangirls.


Fresh Selections

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Fresh Selections 
Maginhawa corner Magiting Street 
In front of Mini Stop 
UP Teacher’s Village, Quezon City 

R and T and I met for lunch today, and since R hadn’t been around the QC area so much after the Boards, T suggested that we try the new restaurant that popped up at Teacher’s Vill. None of us had ever eaten there before, by the way. It was a safe experiment then, because there was almost zero possibility that any of us would feel over-exposed to the food.


Ramen X

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Ramen X 
Space 2087, Level 2
Trinoma, Quezon City 

D and I wandered here because she Googled the restaurant’s menu online, and decided she wanted to try their ramen. I don’t know how she first heard of it, or if anyone she knows had ever eaten there before we got to, but it was a remarkably no-fuss experience even with both of us clueless about what the place had to offer. Even though Ramen X is technically a high-level restaurant given it’s in a mall, the whole space had a laid back atmosphere that made it almost inevitable for customers to just relax and to enjoy the food.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Fairy Tale Fail

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I will have to warn you that I am nuts for the author of this thing, Ms Mina V. Esguerra. I can't even refer to her without that title! I sometimes feel it's blasphemous to cite her using just her pen name, but we shall reserve analyses of my awkwardness for later. The point is, one of Ms Mina's self-published novels was recently picked up by Summit Publishing for national print distribution. [Excellent move, Summit Team! I've always approved of your creative decisions, even if you did phase out Seventeen PH.] The most recent of Ms Mina's Philippine-published books is entitled Fairy Tale Fail, and it has won the first ever Filipino Readers' Choice Awards for the Chick Lit Category.

I would describe the book this way:

Even with the modest income of a twenty-something Makati-dweller, Ellie Manuel's hobby remains planning efficient escapades to foreign countries, where no one knows about her and her recent awful breakup with all-around good guy Don. She can't even hate Don - she can't get over the fact that he's broken up with her in a disturbingly calm fashion that all their friends decide to be downright awful, and she still thinks they have a chance of getting back together. Because their romance is a carefully brought-together fairy tale, and Don is her only prince charming.

Contrary to what the typology of traditional fairy tales promises, however, a mysterious, undefinable character arrives in the form of Lucas Haresco, who is neither Fairy Godmother nor Donor nor Messenger. He is the office Rock Star, and while the little switch in Ellie's danger radar hints he might not be the type of guy to bring home to Mom, she finds herself falling for his addiction to chocolate truffles, his offers to refill her coffee mug with caffeine stashes from the department pantry, and his stern half-resignation, half-support of everything that had caused ex-boyfriend Don to decide to drop out of her life.

So who does Princess Ellie choose? The Prince her life plan demands her to pursue, or the Half-Prince whose existence may be the undoing of her happy ending? 

Friday, November 23, 2012

26 na tao sa volks

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I hear that ICTUS has been joining the Annual Upsilon Carstuffing for about ten years now. Supposedly, we've placed eight times out of those ten, and our organization's management claims we've been Carstuffing champions for four straight years now. K and I have qualms over whether this is actually our third or fourth one, but in the end the figures don't matter.

We run for a greater purpose. To give glory to the Father, to bring smiles to kids' faces.


Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Kanashimi

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Don't feel sad over someone who gave up on you, feel sorry for them because they gave up on someone who would have never given up on them.

Imagine waking up to a Facebook post like this. Imagine realizing how painfully accurately it sums up my current days. Recently, though they've never really said it to my face, people have started giving up on me one by one. And although, in my mind, I tell myself they just didn't know me well enough, sometimes I wonder if they were right for dumping me. Emotional investment, time investment, financial investment into our relationship and all.

Talk about another pity party, which is probably what this whole blogging experience has been, three years and counting.


Sunday, October 7, 2012

Junk Selling

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I despise selling things to people, and much prefer calling companies to inquire regarding the progress of potential organization-business collaborations. I hate going up to people and shoving random food items under their noses, intoning the overused phrase "May I interest you in what I have to offer?" in various languages, moods and intonations. 90% of the time I am asked to sell something, I end up buying said things for myself. Never a good thing, as too much sushi and concert tickets can drive a struggling student to the teenage version of bankruptcy.

If I had PET bottles this pretty, I wouldn't sell them.

Misunderstanding Arrugas: Wrinkles vs Care

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Roommie L and I caught Pelicula 2012 at Greenbelt 3 today, and we happened upon the 4.30 screening, Arrugas (Wrinkles). It's about 'a refined old man' named Emilio who is left in the care of an institute for geriatrics after his family finds his medical condition too difficult to handle. It's an animated film, and while at first I was worried that I wouldn't feel as though as I was watching a Spanish film - cinematic animation in my mind mainly being dominated by the Japanese  - by the end of the opening credits, I was properly intrigued. 


While the movie chooses to discuss something of - in my opinion - relatively little urgency, I think the state of  aging populations is just as relevant as, say, poverty. We in the Philippines honestly don't think of our old people the way I think Western and first-world civilizations think about theirs, so there shouldn't have been much reason for me to have been on the verge of tears, right? 

It isn't even about me thinking that Emilio's situation will be my life story in the future. That someday, after decades of working for my family, I will be 'abandoned' in a home for the aged, because 'the young have to keep living' free of 'burden'. It's more the feeling of, how many people live out the rest of their lives waiting for death? Aging isn't even a force that discriminates based on wealth, or looks, or how many people loved you in your lifetime. Aging is an inescapable equalizer, just like death.

Only sometimes, I think it's sadder.

Saturday, September 15, 2012

It would have been nice to dance in the rain

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Today I sort of dared myself. It's the first day-off I've had since early this semester, a complete day free of org work, urgent academic requirements, and hangovers. I decided it would be great if I could spend the whole day at home, like I used to, watching stock videos of Arashi or writing fanfiction, or downloading movies. But an hour into having no purpose, and I began to feel restless. Now I understand what Sakurai Sho means when he says his head aches when he has to stay at home.

I decided to take a stroll.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Metaphors and Other Mind-Fs

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I shall admit I have been doing my best to have this blog contain things that might interest people other than myself. Not because I have the hidden desire of becoming an Internet celebrity - to be honest, my only dream in life right now is to become undeniably beautiful - but because I don't think it's fair to keep writing about self-absorbed things like my hair or my opinion on KevJumba only to have them published in the public domain.

I should utilize the power of mass media for the common good, my conscience whispers into my ear. But there is something I find remarkably comforting about writing circular thoughts in a circular manner, the way I used to fill this blog with utter quarter-life crisis nonsense before I began peppering it with Fake-stagramed photos.

It gets tiring, you know, trying to be someone you're not. But it's something I think everyone has to go through to become the people they have always envisioned themselves to be.

^ I have been experiencing grammar fail far too often today and yesterday. It is a sign that I have been neglecting my reading. Curse my finally developing "a life". There is barely time for anything that I used to love and enjoy with all my heart. The clock is always ticking.

I could always, I suppose, give up a bit of the time I devote to the pseudo-worship of Arashi. But that is non-negotiable.

And there they are - the circular thoughts in my circular manner. How I miss you, Old Self.


Wednesday, August 29, 2012

My Imaginary Ex

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I've been wanting, searching, praying for this book for months. The feeling was quite close to yearning. I actually became desperate enough to actually tweet the authoress to beg her to send me a copy - if she still had one - because I couldn't find one for myself anywhere. And I had even reached MoA in Manila in my search for it! That's a record. The farthest I'd ever gone to for the sake of a book was Shang in Ortigas, about two years ago, when someone said this book called Twilight was enough to drive one insane.

But enough. We are in the era of the Fifty Shades, which, just to add a bit more feminine vanity into this post, I am currently reading, too.

My Imaginary Ex was published in 2009, written by the same genius who came up with No Strings Attached and the forever epic That Kind of Guy. [Her name is Mina V. Esguerra, I am proud to say I have communicated with her over Twitter - fangirl moment! - and yes, that is her signature up there on the first page of my book.]

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Mi Barrio : My Barangay

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Although a barrio in the Philippine sense is a tranquil little town tucked in the outskirts of the cities, a barrio in Spanish is supposedly almost the equivalent of the Philippine barangay. They are actual locales of large cities, so there can be a barrio in Mexico City - it doesn't have to be hidden in the countryside.

We were asked to make a piece for Spanish - to be presented in class tomorrow, so here's mine. Please forgive me for the errors.

Mi Barrio : Bulua 

Vengo de Bulua, un barrio que está a las afueras de la Ciudad de Cagayan de Oro. Mi barrio no está bien comunicado a veces porque tiene unos pocos medios de transporte. 

En Bulua hay tres grandes cementerios - dos privados y un publico: Divine Shepherd y Greenhills, y Brown. Los cementerios está cerca grandes urbanizaciónes tambien: Terry Hills, Villa Candida, y Soldiers Hill. 

El estudio de ABS-CBN en Mindanao Norte está cerca Brown y Greenhills. La iglesia de mi barrio es la Iglesia de la Imaculada Concepcion. En Bulua hay  playas, una estación de autobús, iglesias, farmacias, un mercado enfrente un centro comercial y muchos restaurantes de lechon manok tambien. Es un barrio muy ruidoso porque está al lado de una carretera nacional.

Here's what I think I said:

I live in Bulua, a barrio that is in the outskirts of Cagayan de Oro City. My barrio is not accessible sometimes because there are few modes of transportation.

In Bulua there are three large cemeteries, two private ones and a public one: Divine Shepherd and Greenhills, and Brown. The cemeteries are near large subdivisions, too: Terry Hills, Villa Candida, and Soldiers Hill. The church of my barrio is the Church of the Immaculate Conception. 

The studio of ABS-CBN in Northern Mindanao is near Brown and Greenhills. In Bulua there are beaches, a bus station, churches, pharmacies, a market in front of a mall, and many restaurants of lechon manok, too. It is a very noisy barrio because it is beside a national highway.

Am I not such a wonderful tourist guide?

Monday, August 27, 2012

Pearls and Prosperi-tea

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Today, the 27th of August my hometown of Cagayan de Oro celebrates its city fiesta. Tradition in my provincial org, UP Kagayhaan, dictates that we refuse to feel depressed for our inability to fly home from Diliman due to ever-increasing air fares, and party + after-party instead. This year we had our Manila-based event at Moonleaf Tea Shop in Maginhawa Street. 


Fun fun fun! I'm getting a bit old for events like this, I think, but the bands and games were great all the same. Given this event is the first of its kind in our org - perhaps even the first for Moonleaf - I wasn't sure it was going to work out, especially during the planning stage. But it went well. Really well. ::)

Happy fiesta, everyone!

Photos courtesy of KAPAO Design and Photography

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Why I Hate Flying

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It's raining tonight. It's pouring on epic proportions. Roomie L is watching A Beautiful Mind (2001) for what she claims is not the first time, and I am procrastinating on a Project Proposal for Operation Extroversion. I have just confirmed that my mother's plane has made touchdown with Philippine soil an hour ++ ago. I can sleep well now.


Except, yeah. The Project Proposal I am in the midst of procrastinating.


It's because of heavy weather such as this, the type that makes house lights on ground zero flicker in agitation, that I hate flying. When I was younger, and I actually had anyone deemed worthy of being the youthful love interest of my juvenile drama, I liked cloud watching. The two of us would sit on the second-floor balcony of the house, then in the middle of renovation, and argue whether that cloud over there was a whale or a clown. But then, of course, the issue of the neighbors being able to see us from their windows across the street made the whole cloud-gazing hobby stop.


I have long since come to hate clouds. One of the many perspectives that change, as one grows more jaded.



Monday, July 16, 2012

Spring Cleaning

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Being unabashedly Filipino, I never really did understand what Spring Cleaning was about. But here I am, attempting to rehash the blog I've been keeping for almost three years because I realized I have to present a certain image to the public. Or at the least, I can't afford to put my private life up on display.

So I've resolved to talk about more interesting things, more normal things, like architecture, and photography, and what the President has finally decided to do with his senatorial lineup for the upcoming elections. Still, I can't seem to erase all those blog entries I've relegated to the 'drafts folder', that singular corner of this, my personal section in the virtual world, for no reason other than sentimentality.

Does that make me weak, or foolish? But it matters not, I suppose. I have been deemed weak and foolish far too many times for the words to sting well.

Chos. A toast to my Spring Cleaning.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Do I?

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My favorite celebrity, the wonderful Sakurai Sho, once said in an interview that although he doesn’t quite wish to settle down yet, during weddings, when the slide show of the couple’s pictures from their youth to the present is shown, he feels the intense desire to have a wedding. Just a wedding. I believe I’m beginning to understand.

My cousin S had her church wedding last Saturday, and I was one of two maids of honor. With the change in her marital status, I am pushed into quite an interesting position, and truly, had I been merely an innocent bystander I would be very much intrigued with the progress of our clan drama. After my 31 year 0ld cousin – the oldest cousin, who can’t marry yet despite having a ‘family-approved’ long-time boyfriend because she’s waiting for a migration cue to the United States – I am the next girl in line for ‘the wedding trail’. That is, I’m the next oldest single girl out of six female cousins. You can imagine the pressure from five noisy but well-meaning aunts, who all settled down in their twenties.

 It’s not that I don’t want to get married though. It’s just that I can’t imagine myself dating, so I can’t imagine myself having a boyfriend, and as a consequence I can’t imagine myself getting married. I wonder how many people like me are out there. I don’t quite feel desperate to get into any sort of relationship yet, but I don’t want to reach my thirties still single either. It’s complicated. And it’s also very Filipino.

Which leads me to the main anecdote of this long-winded soliloquy. The malicious – although, I’ll admit, very capable – wedding planners of my cousin’s wedding drafted the bouquet throw to go in my favor. May luto – for God’s sake. Filipino wedding traditions go: the single women gather around the bride as she throws the bouquet over her head, and the [unfortunate] soul who catches said bouquet is said to be the next to marry. Same tradition applies to the single men, only in their case it’s a garter throw.

Relieved I at least don't look mortified.


What happened during my cousin’s wedding was that they tricked all of us girls by saying the first few people to catch the bouquet would be saved from having some stranger pull the garter they got from the groom up her leg, until I caught the blasted bouquet and the equally malicious emcee changed the rules. So I had to be the unfortunate girl who had one of her twenty-eight-year-old cousin’s college buddies pull a garter up her leg. In front of her parents and half her maternal side, mind you.

Surprisingly, the experience was not as traumatic as I had always imagined it to be. Maybe because the guy was really nice. We even shook hands.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

That Kind of Guy

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That Kind of Guy charms you instantly, with its lead twenty-something’s matter-of-fact musings on her resignedly boring life, and her dry yet hilarious appraisal of her unorthodox first serious relationship.

Julie Crisostomo is a by-the-book mid-level editor who – one blind date – is introduced to smooth playboy Anton, a ticking testosterone time bomb who surprisingly pulls Julie into an actual eleven-month commitment. The trouble begins when rational, forward thinking Julie begins to doubt the future of her arrangement with Anton – because once a cheater, always a cheater – and he suddenly detonates the proverbial diamond ring. As any lucid, pick-up-line-repelling woman might, Julie contentedly rejects the dubious Anton’s proposal of forever, until the universe, and chance meetings with a hilarious supporting cast of beautiful people, leads her to wonder if the bad-boy-free path to a stable marriage is the right path after all.

If there is one thing I dislike about this book – and I actually had to think for a few minutes if there was, in fact, something I truly disliked about it – it’s that it’s definitely a fantasy. All girls fall for the ‘bad boy’ with the soft spot, the sensitive sensibilities, tucked away in the corner of his lipstick-littered heart because we all think we can change him. The fact is, in reality, I doubt a story like this would be as pleasant an adventure as it was in this book. I’m sure That Kind of Guy is inspired by something actual, but definitely, it’s too much of a pleasure to be possible.

Disregarding its roots on reality, however, this book is a joy. I sincerely love the complexity of Julie’s character, and although I frankly don’t understand how her brain ticks, it’s interesting how she goes about things, how she handles her situations. Rarely do you find a heroine so content with her lot, so pragmatically optimistic, that in describing the status of her quasi-nonexistent social circle she admits to not having any friends, all the while still believing she’s perfectly capable of building new relationships, should she wish. The dynamics of the cast are also delicious, each encounter with a new member of the ensemble sprinkled with a unique flavor, the concluding concoction a dish perplexing in its scope but delectable all the same. This book will not allow you to put it down. Even if you succeed in prying yourself away, it has a way of sticking to your head like jellyfish – dangerously un-detachable, strangely electrifying. It’s like surrendering yourself to tequila shots every five minutes – you don’t know you’re intoxicated until you are. 

And I have to say, it’s even more enjoyable reading That Kind of Guy after No Strings Attached. [For the record, I enjoyed the more recent one more.] Both are by Mina V. Esguerra, and maybe that’s why they’re both witty mature novels. [Or, I don’t know. I’m 21. Anything dealing with the relationships of people past 25 is mature to me.] Their lead characters are notably different, but that slightly self-deprecating, realistic attitude is obvious in both Carla and Julie. [Just that Julie tends to lament less.] I know the author has published a book prior to No Strings Attached, but I’ve yet to read it. As of now, I’ll keep praying for a third installment of this entertaining, unpredictable string.

On a personal note – and yeah, I get to add this because it’s my blog – my favorite thing about That Kind of Guy is that although it’s not my idea of a workable relationship, Julie and Anton’s, I still find myself rooting for the two of them. I’m not sure I can relate with any of the characters very much – except for Julie’s tendency to think, sod it, the world can complain, but someday I’m going to marry someone without fireworks, and that’ll work just fine for me – but I still find myself trying to figure out exactly what everyone is trying to say. If there’s a irresistible draw to this piece, it’s the characters. They’re all funny sketches of interesting people, and the way they pepper this story makes you want to meet people like them, too. To have an adventure, much like Julie’s.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Catching Up

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I was in a taxi earlier today, and we were passing through the Magallanes area on the way to Taft when suddenly, a man on the sidewalk tripped just outside my window. The fall was so bad, so desperately clumsy, that it made me take a second look. The guy running was dressed in dark, drab and dusty clothes, and, as the taxi driver would comment later, "He looked like he came out of a trash can." He ran, and fell on the dusty Metro Manila sidewalk, his faded yellow slippers bending. But he immediately stood up, and ran off again.

I'm sure he was bleeding somewhere.

The next moment people from around the area started screaming a shared, incoherent warning. Fingers were pointed, people were running, and a man hastily looking into his bag ran past, another person close behind him carrying a long, black bat. Immediately, we locked the taxi doors. But the running stranger had already been spotted on a distant overpass, people's eyes never leaving his retreating back.

But maybe I'm too dramatic.

I became really, inexplicably depressed though, seeing that happen within a 100-meter radius of myself. I had never witnessed anything remotely realistic before - although, yes, some idiot pocketed my Nokia while I was walking in front of him/her past McDonald's SM MoA. Seeing that man run, watching all those people shout with raised fingers, I felt so very depressed. I think, someday, I should like to live in a Philippines where people steal because they are evil, not because they are poor.

I barely saw what he had been carrying, and somehow, I wonder what it had been.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Job Descriptions

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One week to the summer, and for once I’m excited.

Six summers ago, I was 14 and touted to become part of my high school paper’s Editorial Board. To earn the responsibility, we had to attend this extremely fun writing seminar that our own moderator – only 24 at that time – organized especially for us, perhaps out of pity that children with such endless free time were letting their high school experience tick by without any real moments of productivity. Miss G, as we called her then and as I call her now, devoted one part of her lecture on grammar and prose and stylistics to Job Descriptions. Six summers on, I fail to recall exactly which English grammar rules we talked about – and yes, I still have trouble with who and whom – but I still remember – almost perfectly – what little we discussed about Job Descriptions.

In a management setting, a leader has to tell her subordinates exactly what is expected of them. A checklist must be provided: do this, do that, you’re forbidden from doing any of the things listed below. I remember this lecture quite well because the examples given were completely far out. Supposedly, at the end of a first date one had enjoyed immensely – therefore, ensuring the occurrence of a second date with the same person – one must write down rules for the other to agree to or to amend. This practice, Miss G convinced us, would make less possible the chances of a couple breaking up due to misunderstandings. See, if you both knew what to expect out of each other, life would be less complicated, right?

[And here, I interrupt my own reflections to promote my favorite anime series of all time, Ghost Hunt. What follows is a line from a Fanfic dedicated to the show, and although the plot of the story’s not at all canon, the characterization is excellent. So Shibuya Kazuya, despicable protagonist extraordinaire, says:

“Wouldn't you think that a relationship that serves multiple purposes would be more likely to endure? It's only logical—as a consumer, you select the option that suits most of your needs. The more functions it serves, the more it justifies itself. That's the way you would choose a cell phone, a car, even a piece of furniture—why not a girlfriend?"~ Shibuya Kazuya, Rules of Engagement by Amaranth Adanae


In the real world, however, no one really lays down the rules first thing. In fact I doubt a lot of people set guidelines for relationships at all. We, all of us, can be saved from a lot of pain if we’re not egged on to believe we’ll be getting exactly what we want out of personal relations. We can be saved from a lot of pain if we know, early on, what we can and cannot have, what we should and should not expect.


And though I’m a personal believer of ‘trial by fire’ I also think not everybody is better off after experiencing heartache. A friend, for example, had believed she would get so much out of an endeavor she had poured all her time, her energy, her hopes into – only to realize, three years later, that the foundations of said enterprise made it impossible for all her expectations to be achieved. Long story short, she got hurt. She’s still hurting.

And while I personally rejoice when my heart twinges, no matter how softly – if only to prove I’m still human – I don’t like seeing the people around me cry. And I certainly don’t like seeing the people around me get hurt because they didn’t know what they were getting into. I think it’s one of the saddest things ever, expectation.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Expectations

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I’ve been in a fairly good mood these past few days, despite my habitual lack of productivity. Take for example, my reaction to a comment given recently about my current state of pseudo-unemployment.

I like calling P ‘the exception to every rule’. To say the least, he’s an achiever, and he’s very vocal about his dream to be part of Wall Street someday. We are both somehow affiliated to the School of Economics, and that is why he’s comfortable sharing his latest entrepreneurial exploits with me. Like his having joined this or that conference, this or that seminar, meeting this or that financial celebrity, etc. I always, always feel the necessity to keep up with him, if only because I’m older and am his literal senior. And he always, always reminds me of this supposed hierarchy. In his own strange, lovable way, of course.

Once, this week, we met for dinner – P and I and our other friends. And then he suddenly asked me: So what are you busy with now? To which I replied something along the lines of: Busy being bored. He instantly suggested: Why don’t you do something productive like write or something? And that just struck me.

It didn’t sting at all. In fact, it was somewhat heartwarming.

See I’ve developed this fear of meeting people from my first degree days, people who probably wouldn’t understand why I chose to take a second degree instead of finding a job. Most of these people are achievers – precisely the reason they can’t relate to the fact that some people don’t really know what they want to do for the rest of their lives. P is one of these first degree friends; there are times when I dread meeting him, because I know he’ll pry about my current life, and I will not be able to give him a reply he will find adequate. And I was right, at least in the case of our last meeting.

But there was something very refreshing about his comment this time. Somehow, it felt good to know people worried about me. Somehow, it made me feel they expected much better things. Never mind the fact that I failed to deliver. There is strangely something very comforting about people expecting only the best out of you.
__

On a side note, some people from K translated some love poems into Bisaya Cebuano as part of our routine ‘Get Crazy’ moments. We read If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda – sadly we couldn’t remember whether he was Spanish or Italian or Brazilian or Portuguese – Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 and others. Here is a rough transcript of our ‘joke time’ group translation for Christopher Marlowe’s Come live with me and be my love.

Unedited blasphemy care of H, B, P, M, M, J and moich.

Tara maglive-in ta ug pwede ba ikaw ang akong ihigugma
Ug sa tanan kalamian atong patunayan
Ug sa mga bukid, mga bakawan, mga buntod ug mga basakan
Mga kakahuyan ug sa mga tungas nga bukid

Maglingkod kami sa mga bato
Ug mangita kami ug mga pastol nga gapakaon sa ilahang mga gialagaan nga sheep
Sa mabaw nga suba gakahulog
Ang nindot paminawon nga mga langgam nga gakanta ug org sa UP

Ug magbuhat ko para sa imo ug katre sa mga rosas
Ug libo-libo nga humot nga santan
Isa ka kalo sa mga bulak ug ambot
Ug gipalibutan sa mga dahon sa isa ka tanum

Ug isa ka taas nga sanina na gihimo gikan sa pinakatsada nga sheep
Nga gikan sa mga gwapa nga karnero atong birahon
Ug pinakanindot nga linya sa mga tsinelas gikan sa bugnaw
Kauban ang kandado nga bulawan kaayo

Ang bakos nga sagbot ug bougainvillea
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Ug kung kani nga mga kalamian mulihok
Mag-live in ta ug himuon tikang akong gugma

Ug ang mga tigbantay sa karnero kay musayaw ug kanta
Para sa imong kalipay kada buntag sa Mayo
Kung kani nga mga kalamian makapalihok sa imong utok
Dali na kay maglive-in ta

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Hmmm

5 comments
I know I should feel good about people reading my blog - never mind that no one seems to feel it necessary to leave a note for me, whatsoever - but I can never keep myself from being surprised whenever someone tells me, "I read your blog." Not that I'm 'maintaining' this for my personal viewing - because seriously, I can write a diary instead, can't I? - but it's really unexpected whenever a random comment is given about cookiecutter caricature. It's odd. Feels odd.

Although I must say I'm pleased, truly. Thanks, random lurkers - since I've been given enough evidence to believe in your existence, somewhere, out there.

Things I've been up to lately are best left up to the imagination of people who wish to imagine. Let's just say I've recently been sleeping eight hours a night, eating only two meals a day out of sheer lack of appetite - oh yes, I haven't been getting a decent dose of Arashi either, because them fansubbers ain't feeling very industrious right now. N says I have dark circles under my eyes - this, despite the fact that I've been oversleeping, the fact that I haven't been getting any studying done. Good God.

Bah. Rant. Rant. I haven't written in quite a while, have I? I shall do my best to rant about more interesting matters other than my life, the next time.