State Of the Union

I must confess, I haven't seen the news. Someone asked me a day ago what the lastest political scandal was -- the crude and petulant political mongering on the defunct ZTE deal. I had nothing substantial to say, only that, I'm sick and tired of how vile the system is.

Before you do quit on reading this, I assure you, I'm not going to go about proletyzing. I dont have that in me. Plus, its a waste of space.

I'm halfway through the second season of HBO series, Rome. And it dawned on me --- the Philippines is still stuck in the same sh*th*le as the Roman Republic. We could be living at a parallel time. It's highly disturbing. It never occured to me that honor can be found in murder and betrayal, that the common good can be brought about by corruption and the prostitution of values, and that political greed, if really peristent, is a running virtue...for the good of the Republic. When you think about it, is there really any difference with the way our so-called leaders run the country with that of Ancient Rome?

Ho-hum. Moving on...

Pansit Dreams

Drumroll please.. Presenting to you my first ever Pancit. He. he. I'm all for dramatics today.

I'm feeling especially creative. I'm writing the first pages of my screenplay. He. He. This Saturday is ripe of possibilities.

The Day Out Saga

So I wigged out.

I've settled that the next best thing to an exotic holiday is lazying around the house with a good book in tow, an unpretentious cup of tea, and India Arie quietly declaring that she is Ready For Love in the background. Nothing beats a good dose of mush to keep your spirits up.

That is at least for three good hours.
I'm out of sorts today. I have no idea why. This emotional downturn couldn't have come at a better timing. Its Leap Day; and I'm already reaching out for this year's Sappy-Angry anthem. It's Urbandub's Guillotine right now. And I'm wailing "All Hope Is Gone, All Hope Is.." after closing the book on page 33 and muffling India Arie's optimism. I cant help it. I'm too old for this shit. I know. Urgh. I blame this on hormones. Hehe.

* * *

On a brighter note, I actually accomplished something today. I actually got out of the house. I seem to do less and less of that these days. I really have no reason steeping out the front door and actually walking three feet away from the doorstep. Everything today is conveniently home-based ---working out (I really do.he.he.), fastfood mad-stuffing, connecting with friends from back home, and yes, work. Even my job is home-based. Oi! I really have to make an excuse to bask in the sun once in a while, don't I? He. He.

Day Out

Today, I decided to get myself a whack on the head and went out alone in this city without any itenerary. I used to love going out by myself -- spending hours just doing nothing, hopping from one record bar/bookstore to another and hogging a table to myself at some densely packed resto. Today, the thought of it all seems debilitating. I've been reduced to chicken feed. Its been two hours and I've already gotten bored. I'm running out of ideas here. In a span of less than an hour, I've already bought two books. Milan Kundera's Lightness of Being and Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Love In The Time Of Cholera. Three minutes out of the bookstore, I was already itching to poke these keys and oggle at some Asian popstar at Crunchyroll. I've gotten so used to being cooped up inside the house that I no longer know how it is to actually have fun in the real world.

I've already cancelled my reservations for Confessional this evening. I've no one to go with. Someone bailed out on me. I want to go but it really isnt so fun going to one and not having anyone to lay your complaints of the potential litany of social and political issues the film will entail. Aaaargh, how I wish to have an actual friend right now. Cha, you interested in teleporting here for the film showing this evening? he. he.

With the whole afternoon wide open, I'm thinking... what's the best way to stuff yourself mad with Happy? Hmmmm.... Any ideas?

Spell Angry

S'kay. Im entitled to shit on the universe once in a while, right? I know it doesnt do anyone good. It magnifies and transforms your Godzilla into a different monster altogether. You meet Space Alien Turbocharge Godzilla 5000 and its downhill from there for sure. Trust me, I've gone that road too many times and it aint pretty. It takes a while to regain your wits after losing your shit ( I just have to say that). After collecting your brains, you realize the horror of it all -- the complications of one nasty little comment and the bad press that will hound you for weeks on end. But really, is it really worth it? Do we really have to be angry to be, er, authentic? It's just downright messy.

I hate being angry. I dont like what I look like when I'm all wired. I've gone through its variations. There's funny-angry, when your eyes pop out of your nostrils (oh, its possible) and your voice quake to a shrill high. The sulky-angry, when your slight pout descends to the ground while your nerves quietly throb on your forehead. And the crazy-angry, when you just get, well, u-g-l-y. At the end of it all, you've somehow managed to morph into an imitation of a lesser life form (think: single-celled amoeba). Its never pretty with these things.

I have to be comforted by the thought that it is human after all to have these tiny spats with the world and with specific persons. Whatever it's worth, it's tough. No one wins when you're angry.

The Coffee Prince Monster

Ring Ring

What if you had a mental telephone? No, I’m not talking about the ability to read other people’s minds, but a real telephone --- only it exists in your mind. If you had to call someone, or if you had to call a random number, who would you like to pick up on the other end?

Ridiculous, ey? When I stumbled on this movie, I thought, if there’s dancing and cheeky fireworks, I promise not to giggle. Luckily, there was nothing remotely cheesy in this one --no dancing ( although I secretly hoped for a teeny bit) and definitely no gunpowder feast.

Calling You is a sincere and hopeful story of a young girl coming to terms with her identity and experiencing the heartache of a first love. It’s a short film that offers to send your heart in a flurry if you’re willing to shamelessly bawl at the end. It has no Disney ending. Like almost all Asian love stories, there is bound to be a tragic twist before the credits roll.

This gem is happy, sad and beautiful.

Mental telephones. Now that’s food for thought.

Hullo? Diiiyyyeeegooo?