Birthday Bashing

I.am.now.twentyfive.

I am officially senile.

I am now a fledlging for the quarter-life crisis. Ready to be sworn in.

So here goes...counting down to that sweet sweet rockstar future.

Weekend with Shyamalan and his Lady Friend

After having my Sundays subjected to hollywood crap for movies for most of the year, N. Shyamalan's Lady in the Water is like my answered prayer from boredom and mediocrity.

Despite all the hogwash critics are throwing, Lady in the Water is a gem. How a movie appeals to the audience is relative anyway. You might hate it or like it. However, most of the people I know who have seen it, whose thoughts are the former, seemed they really "didn't get it".

However, I understand their "what-the-heck" impressions on the film. I blame that on the viewing public and Hollywood's sin of boxing movies into naught categories. What really is a scary movie really? Should it always be complete with gore and nudity and sans plot and sense?

Lady in the Water is far more original than what "mainstream" media throws in nowadays. The bedtime/fairy tale story was brilliantly executed. The humor thrown into the story with the quirky dialogues and odd-ball characters are dead giveaways that the film isnt meant to be seen as 'just a scary movie'. Shyamalan is absolutely brilliant at being cryptic, yet accessible at the same time.

The film isnt just a thinking-movie as some might disagree. What I love about Shyamalan's work is not how creepy and clever his stories are but how it makes you feel after going out through those theater doors. It throws fundamental questions at you--- about the human spirit, defeat and self-awakening, about purpose-- without sounding or appearing preachy, and without you noticing. It makes you feel.

This has to be the Shyamalan's most personal film yet, opting for a fullfledged main character rather than the usual cameo. The whole thing with Story "awakening" his character seemed to be too telling for truth. It seemed like an attestation "to matter." However personal that storyline could have been, I felt connection with the character. We all need to matter.

Tin Meets Potential Guy

It's official. I've totally gone nuts. Guess who came to town?

Chiz Escudero.

Future Mr. President.

Potetial Guy personified.


Needless to say, I squealed like a fangirl. It was ridiculous. And frightfully embarrasing. I couldn't make out a single cohesive thought when I saw him at first glance. My insides turned instantly to mush. Thankfully, I managed to pull myself together when we had an interview with him. It was hilarious. We seemed liked a couple of groupies, weird grins plastered over our faces and all giddy at the sight of him.

Man, can he stare. He has the most sympathetic eyes ever. He has the ability to make you feel at ease and make you seem like the only person in the room. Conversation with him is like a Before-Sunrise moment. It's fateful. Haha.

Meeting him was like that scene from the American President, when Annete Benning finally met Michael Douglas. She turned into jelo. Lucky for her, she still had her wits about her. I, on the other hand, failed miserably. The first words that came out from my mouth didnt seem intelligible or intelligent at all. I felt like a dork who just had her head lobotomized by space creatures. He must have thought I was stupid. Wait, no..he's too nice to ever think that. Hee. He's just too nice. And humble, and grounded, and down-to-earth, and giving, and incredibly smart, and terribly cute..Haha. That's it. Enuf said. I think I just qualified for the rehab center for the Chiz-adiks.

Super Sunday

That's it. I am marrying a superhero. Or at least Brandon Routh.

I just saw Superman Returns at a local theater. And since I got through those theater doors, I have been having short palpitations at seeing his pictures all across town.

What should I say that hasn't been said about Brandon Routh? Hmmm... He's hot? Hahaha.

Even when his dorky Clark Kent, he's still luscious. Hee.. This is mad. I can't even think about him without going all giddy like a schoolgirl.

Speaking of mad, just as my day couldnt get any death-inducing, the oddest thing happened. You'd think there's nothing as bizarre than having know Superman and Lois had unprotected sex until you hear this.

A huge black and orange pig stopped traffic at Hayes-Corrales.

I was walking along Hayes Street when the pig, out of nowhere, suddenly dashed through the intersection. It met those vehicles head on and two tricycles and a car almost hit it square in the face. It ran through Corrales heading for the university when it suddenly realized to go back home. Maybe it thought that getting hit by a tin-can won't go too well in the funny papers. Apparenly, a neighbor kept it as a pet. I have yet to know its name however. But it is Super-pig in my books.

Weekend-er

The trouble with going home for the weekend is the ear-full of drama you're bound to be getting the moment you step on the welcome mat.

I've quietly sworn off anything that potentially might upset my blood pressure. I've been gradually striking off beef and pork from my diet (going cold-turkey isn't a wise decision, unless you want to go through the withdrawal symptoms and battle with the cravings), and it's no Amazing Race/Survivor/death-inducing reality show for me either. The only thing that gives me the heebie-jeebies nowadays is my grade in special commercial law. Yet somehow, the universe always conspires to upset any little plan i might have to detoxify daily life. Oi!

I guess it's the inevitable. You just have to be used to with all the quirks your family harbors. I wont go into details but let's just say my family is an opera-house running on Lipovitan. Eveyone wants to be in a musical. If you're hearing impaired, you might just qualify as a housemate.

Show Me Your Bones

I had nothing else to do today and I desperately needed a break from staring contests with textbooks. So I decided to do a bit of soul-searching, junk-accumulating and headed to the local record store. To fill in the void, so to speak. Haha.

I went to hunt down the latest Yeah Yeah Yeah's frankenstien: Show Your Bones. However, after scouring the whole city, I was appalled to find that nobody had them. Then again, what chance does Karen O have with the likes of SameSame worming its way into the archipelago? Those kids are brandishly odd-- Bugglegum passing for Kool. Oh well.

Instead of launching a tantrum at the scarcity of the third world, I did the next best thing. I ripped it off over the net. Haha. Go ahead. Egg me. I cannot deny the unavoidable truth that yes, I am cheap. Even if I decide to buy it off the net, over ebay's ridiculous prices, what chance is it reaching middle of nowhere? It'll get lost in between somewhere off the equator.

I am cheap. No argument necessary.

But I digress. Show you bones is what it is. It's like dipping your wet finger into the socket-- chock-full of minutes of electrocution. I was half-expecting it to be hellishly sexy, but I was surprised how toned-down they suddenly became. But the grittiness in the sound is still there. 'Guess, the trio has had time to mull things over, fued and all.

Show Your Bones is my official anthem for the year. I've had to pick over Urbandub and the Arctic Monkeys, and that's saying something. I almost want to drop to my knees when Karen O announces over Cheated Hearts that yes, she is "bigger than the sound".

Right now, I cant pick a favorite. It's all too good.

Ana Rex Sia

So the summer's over. Here I am dazed and confused.

I feel guilty I didnt blog. I attempted to do so but I just became lazy in the end. So I opted for disclosures on mute. That has to be the most viable excuse I have.

But this drought over updates doesnt neccessarily mean my summer was bland. It however was well, uhmm... freighteningly psychotic. Whoever decided to resurrect my inner Gandhi wasnt really funny. And by that I dont mean my delusions for world peace. The antibiotics I took when I had the measles somehow was responsible for me developing anorexia. Yes, I was anorexic over the summer. For a good two weeks. My insides turned inside out. It refused food or anything substantially resembling food. I didnt even have junk food. Contrary to popular culture, bungee-jumping down the weighing scale is no fun at all. I've always had weight issues. While people around me are obsessed at defying the pound-meter and have crusades against fat, I however struggle at keeping up with my calorie intake. My weight drops and climbs from 95 to 100 lbs. On good days, I'm a 100, on bad days, I'm 95, on worst, I'm at 92. People always surmise I have an eating disorder. I wish I did so I could have a palpable defense when someone asks me that age-old question: Why are you thin? That's as bad as the other question: Why are you still single?

I'm slowly recovering however. Vital signs good.