My First Wed Mistah

Mel and Niño's first dance. They got married in the Church on the Hill in Batulao, Batangas last December 21, 2007, with the reception held at the Taal Vista Resort. Among Batch Ninety-Eight, Sherlyn, Nan (with Jasper in tow), Angelico, Joni, Grace and I were able to make it. Seven of us, so quorum! Nandon rin si Rey, Mica and Nonie.

Mel and Niño were actually first wed in New York. They lived there for a few years before coming back here to celebrate their marriage with their Pinoy friends and relatives. Now, they're based in California. In fact, they're back in Cali as of press time.

Mel is my first Mistah, my first Broad Ass batchmate, to get married. When we made their wedding video, we referred to their story as a fairytale. High school crush kase ni Mel si Niño, and since getting together, di na naghiwalay yang dalawa. Parang nowadays, that's a rarity na e, yung relationships na ganon katagal, na sinu-survive ang long distance, at nagkakatuluyan. Seeing the two of them together, you wouldn't doubt that they're in it for the long haul. You'd think they're polar opposites, but you can feel that they were meant for each other. In an uncanny way, they even look alike.

Congrats and best wishes to my beloved batchmate and our first batchmate-in-law! :-)

"Happy Birthday" Revamped

My salubong entourage - cousins Jane and Meanne, and Mistahs Sherlyn and Nan. Happy 27th! Soon after this, we picked up Melody, my other cousin, and traveled all the way to Cavinti, Laguna to go to Mass (as per tradition, sa December 16 lang ako nagsi-simbang gabi, ang opening salvo ng Misa de Gallo).

A far cry from the humdrum reception last year (which spawned a melodramatic blog entry).

The party followed the night after :-)

Fully Booked

One of my favorite things to do. Reading in bookstores. Usually, I actually bring my own book and read it there. Usually isn't that often though. I get to do it only when I'm window shopping in malls, or waiting for a movie screening.

There's something about the atmosphere inside bookstores that just inspires me. I think it's because I get encouraged by the people's shared desire to read. They're there because they want to read, or they want to find a book they'd want to read. Thus, the usually solitary act of reading becomes a communal one. One of the few times I get to feel social without having to say anything to the people around me.

This picture was taken in Fully Booked at the Mall of Asia.

Panalo Ang Pinoy!

Si Manny Pacquiao ang tumapos!

I was not a big boxing fan until I caught Manny's first fight with Morales. Prior to that, all I knew of Manny was that he defeated Barreira and that it was a major surprise, and a major upset at that. I remember he won an HBO poll declaring him the 'upset of the year' (or something like that).

When the first installment of this legendary trilogy with Morales was shown, we were in the farthest corner of Zambales making an occular inspection of a resort. Sa channel 9 pa nga palabas non. Everyone was enjoying the beach, but I was inside, watching the fight intently. I remember cringing at every punch he received, his face drenched with blood oozing from the cut on his brow. Manny finished all twelve rounds despite the injury resulting from their headbutt, but he lost the match.

By his second fight, I've become a bona fide Pacquiao fan. I stayed home and watched it on TV. I remember being upset by a text message that preempted the result, but Manny's victory was still as sweet as it could be. He did not disappoint. I kept telling my friend why it was such a momentous occasion for me. Sabi ko, I'm so proud to have found the boxing idol for my generation. While our parents had the likes of Ilorde, or Espinosa, kami, tayo, may Pacquiao. And what an idol he is. He is an icon not only of the sport, but more importantly of patriotism, faith and humility.

Larios then came over and was sideswept. Nadagdagan lang lalo ang paghanga ko, at pag-idolo kay Manny.

And finally, this. The grand finale of one of the greatest boxing trilogies ever.

Pacquiao versus Morales.

The people's champ made early progress, dominating the first round with both power and speed.

By the second, Pacquiao had Morales on his knee. The Pinoy worked up and down, to the body and to the head, choosing his punches and executing them beautifully. The Mexican put up a good fight, but with punches that came in clumps, the round was definitely ours.

Manny was obviously pumped up, starting the third round with seemingly unstoppable momentum. Morales bravely tried to make it up, throwing great punches of his own, but paling in comparison to Pacquiao's powerful attacks. It was total carnage. After being downed the first time in the round, Morales looked hopeless. Less than twenty seconds before the bell, Manny concluded the match, not only winning the fight, but winning it by TKO... on the third round! The Pacman floored El Terrible. The only fighter to do so, and he did it twice.

Ang sarap ng pakiramdam. Pacquiao graciously shared the victory with all of us, and indeed, it was ours. Panahong ganito, ang sarap maging Pilipino.

Sana hindi lang ngayon. Sana, laging alalahanin ng bawat Pinoy ang dangal ng lahing kayumanggi.

Mabuhay ka Manny! Mabuhay ang Pilipinas! Mabuhay ang Pilipino!

Dulce de Leche

My favorite dessert drink is back! :-) Coffee Bean's Dulce de Leche. I remember, last year ata, the Morato crew took a polaroid shot of me para sa "Customer of the Week" pin up nila. I had to fill out an info card about myself, and I wrote this as my favorite drink.

Shortly after that, they pulled out the drink from the menu na.

No hard feelings :-) Basta it's back. I just hope it's back for good!

Crash

I was a few meters from home when a friend of mine called me up to tell me they got into an accident somewhere along EDSA. This was last Wednesday ng madaling araw, after we watched the taping of Rockista at Music Museum. I dropped off my driver at home, changed cars, then went straight to where my friends were at. Sherlyn, who was sleeping over at Tierra that night, was kind enough to accompany me.

Eto yung naabutan namen.

Buti na lang, yung dalawang friends ko, dun nakasakay sa upright na kotse. No one was injured, not even the guy whose car was upturned.

This happened at around 3A on Wednesday, on the Pasay bound lane a little after the Buendia MRT station. We jammed the traffic nga e cause they had to squeeze through the 2 remaining fenced bus lanes. News reporters for ABS and GMA arrived to cover the accident. At yung ABS reporter pa, orgmate namen nung college.

It turns out, the guy who was driving the upturned car hit the concrete divisions along EDSA, flipped over, then hit my friend's car from behind. I'm just glad my friends are okay. And hopefully, the guy will pay for all the damages.

Princess Tiaras

To show support for Princess in the Colt45 Rockista search, Sherlyn thought up this brilliant gimmick of wearing tiaras. She bought them in Divisoria. Aakalain mo nga na customized cause it says 'Princess' on it :-) I got one myself, pero I wore it on my arm.

Sadly though, bottom three na naman si Ces this week.

That's Rey and Adrian "Disaster Diva" Ayalin in the picture, by the way. Taken at Grilla in Greenhills Promenade.

Astoria

The view from the full glass window of our room in Astoria's quite impressive. Somehow, it helps in relieving the stress of writing. The last time I was here, it was to rush a script for the Piolo-Regine project. After numerous drafts, the project was shelved (it's back in development again, but with another team).

Now, I'm rushing another script, and it's even tighter than the Piolo-Reg and my last project.

Iniisip ko na lang, 'At least, may project!' :-)

Rockista

The Assers came in full force (at least compared to the rest) during the first taping of the Rockista search held at Teatrino in Greenhills. All for our bet, fellow Asser, Princess. We obviously set the trend cause the other contestants started bringing in their own pàla in the succeeding episodes. Ces was undeniably the best that night. She's been at the bottom three since then, but the judges themselves say that she's totally redeemed herself.

All At Once

Sherlyn, trying to outdo Pinoy Dream Academy's Joan with her own version of the Whitney Houston original, "All At Once." At Music Match Morato, with my cousins ulet.

All Made Up

To immortalize Sherlyn's make up for the night, I took this photo. We were supposed to go to the Rockista Bar Tour, but we only ended up having coffee at Baang.

Poker Face

Raz style. This is me playing poker with my high school classmates and some their plus 1s. Taken during very-pregnant Ella's baby shower, in their Southwoods home. Master of the house, Dean, was smitten by my phone. He was doing test shots with it, and this is one of more unglamorous photos that came out. Dean and I were the last two players standing, by the way. We decided to call it a tie and split the pot :-)

Music Match

Singing with my cousins and Joni at Music Match in Tomas Morato. Okay pala don. Cheap but the facilities are good naman. At least may kapalit na IO KTV sa ELJ!

Imax-ed

This, on the other hand, was my first time to watch a movie at the Imax Cinema. T'was taken on 1 July 2006. We watched SUPERMAN. It was also my first time to go to, and watch a movie, at the SM Mall of Asia. I remember it was a Friday evening cause I was watching MMK on TV when Norms called and told me he had compli tickets. Free snacks! But there were only four parts in 3D. Loved the film, still :-)

Back To IMAX

These are my three cousins during their first IMAX experience. We watched 'T-Rex Back To The Cretaceous.'

Rockista Princess

Please support our good friend,
PRINCESS
one of the 11 finalists in COLT45's ROCKISTA search on MTV.

Watch it on MTV, Mondays, 8PM. Starting October 23.
Replays on Wednesdays, 12 Noon and Tuesdays, 11PM.

Here's a behind the scenes clip from the last taping:

You Are The One

Watch the (original) full trailer of Star Cinema's
"You Are The One"
Starring Sam Milby & Toni Gonzaga
Showing on August 30, 2006

Love can't be denied...




You can also support the movie by voting for its theme song's video on MYX!

Simply type:
myx(space)vote(space)songtitle and send to 2366!

Thanks!

See Me Malaya

Today is officially the start of the Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival.

I used to dread the length of time I was made to wait for the results to come out, and now, it's actually here, and I'm part of it.

During the Sinetaktakan last week, when all the film makers involved were asked to discuss their films and the peripheral issues attached to independent filmmaking, I mentioned how nervous (nerbyous, ika nga, to better underscore my emotions) I felt about the coming week. We were asked to rate our films. I gave my own film a 9, saying that I subtracted a point because I was forced to edit out some of the scenes and sequences in order to meet the 20-minute maximum running time the competition rules imposed.

However, I clarified that how I rated "Labada" shouldn't be confused with an objective evaluation of my film. Most people would agree that any creative work can never be evaluated objectively. It's just not possible to quantify the merits of a creative output. I told the audience that with only a week left before the festival, the jitters are worse than ever.

The moderator told us first-timers that based on last year's festival, we'd probably be on automatic pilot mode once the festival starts. The deluge of emotions and the flurry of the events almost guarantee we won't even know what hit us.

It was a welcome thought.

Now that the day has come, I'm not sure how to describe what I'm feeling. There's a part of me that's excited about the good things that may be in store for me and my film. And there's another part that can't wait to see all of this over and done with.

Cinemalaya seems to imply a liberation of sorts. I've yet to see what it will do for me.

Wash And Learn

Watch the trailer of
Raz de la Torre's "LABADA"

The Cinemalaya 2006 Schedule for the Short Feature Finalists

SHORTS PROGRAM A:
1. 10:25 ng Gabi
2. Gee-Gee at Waterina
3. Kwarto
4. Labada by Raz de la Torre
5. No Passport Needed

SCHEDULE FOR PROGRAM A: (which includes Labada)

Tues, July 18 – 12:45pm (CCP Main Theater)
Weds, July 19 – 9:00pm (CCP Main Theater)
Thurs, July 20 – 9:00pm (Multi-Purpose Hall)
Fri, July 21 – 6:15pm (CCP Little Theater)
Sat, July 22 – 12:45pm (CCP Little Theater)


SHORTS PROGRAM B:
1. Orasyon
2. Parang Pelikula
3. Putot
4. Puwang by Anna Isabelle Matutina
5. Sa Silaw

SCHEDULE FOR SHORTS PROGRAM B: (which includes Puwang)

Tues, July 18 – 3:30pm (CCP Main Theatre)
Weds, July 19 – 6:15pm (CCP Little Theatre)
Fri, July 21 – 9:00pm (Multi-Purpose Hall)
Sat, July 22 – 9:00pm (CCP Main Theatre)
Sun, July 23 – 12:45pm (CCP Little Theatre)

Hung Out To Dry

Originally written on 11 April of this year.

I’m still reeling from the excitement.

A few hours ago, I was in the process of reading and cleaning my email inbox. After deleting countless egroup digests, an email that started this way, popped up:



April 11, 2006

MR. RAZ DE LA TORRE
# 38 Kalye Emerald, Tierra Pura VI
Tandang Sora, Quezon City

Dear Mr. de la Torre,



I was instantly curious about the formal salutation and eerily precise address...


In behalf of the Cinemalaya 2006 Organizing Committee, I would like to inform you that your entry to the Short Feature category…



I called out to the high heavens even before I reached the end of the email. I was ecstatic. I didn’t need to finish the email, and it wasn’t after jumping up and down for a good ten minutes did I actually finish reading it. I was hugging Sherlyn, a close friend who happened to be reading my email over my shoulder at that time (a pet peeve I managed to let slide this one time). The email, as it turns out, came from the Competition Director of this year’s Cinemalaya. It bore the news of my short film “Labada” making it to the Cinemalaya’s Short Feature category’s finalists.

It is such an unbelievable feeling.

You wish it would happen. You pray for it to happen. You go over and over the circumstances that could make it happen... but when it does, you still can't believe it’s happening. Being a finalist makes me feel like I’ve already won. I used to think that when Oscar nominees say that during the red carpet interviews, it's just a load of bull. Now I realize they probably mean it, if my own incredulity is any indication.

When I submitted “Labada” as an entry to the Cinemalaya short feature category at the beginning of the year, I kept it to myself and a few members of the crew who worked with me. I’m terribly insecure about things like this and I wanted to shield myself from the potential disappointment of not making it as a finalist. After all, my fears were founded. Last year’s Cinemalaya festival, which produced wonderful works like Mansyon (short feature best picture), Pepot Artista (full-length feature best picture), Big Time and Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros, was groundbreaking. It opened the eyes of many film buffs to the local independent cinema. As a result, more aspiring filmmakers were inspired to venture in independent film making. Myself included. I figured this year’s competition would lure more films. It’s like opening the floodgates.

The truth is, I had confidence in my short digital film. I always tell my friends that as long as I am entertained by my own work, I consider myself accomplished. I usually think this way about the storylines I submit to Star Cinema. Nevermind if the core group (the elite circle of power-wielders in the company) doesn't find my storyline good enough. Long as I'm happy with it, the pain of rejection becomes more bearable.

That's also true for “Labada.” However, I felt that in Cinemalaya, it’s just not enough that you like your work. The competition committee must like it too. And considering the subjective nature of film viewing, and the number of entries they must have received (36 short films this year, I heard, unless I'm mistaken), I couldn’t help but think there’s bound to be 10 other films better than mine. I believe in the wealth of undiscovered, unrecognized talent out there, and despite my desire to be included in their ranks, as most struggling artists are usually predisposed, I just didn't believe in myself enough.

Thus my reaction to the email that I just received.


* * *

Almost three months after receiving that email, I'm still reeling from the excitement.

In an effort not to preempt the news and jinx my good fortune, I put the publication of this entry on the back burner. I finally managed to write about it after the press conference last July 5. That, and a few newspaper articles that featured my name as finalist, finally legitimized the deal. I just submitted the miniDV copies for the Jury. Prior to that, I kept going back to the 'cutting board,' desperately figuring out other ways to improve the film before finally leaving it at the mercy of the viewing public. I'm done with the washing, it's time to hang it out to dry.

The excitement has been laced with an anxiety borne by the thought that no one might watch it, or conversely, that people might and wonder why Labada was included. God knows I've felt that way about a lot of films featured in various festivals (last year's Cinemalaya included). Anticipating being at the receiving end of all those criticisms scares the hell out of me. I can't help but feel personal about it. Like my film, I feel like I, too, have been hung out to dry.

It's a realm of emotions I'm willing to tread, however frightening it might be. I just comfort myself that if all else fails, I at least have my own sense of fulfillment to retreat to.

Ságada, Ságada't Su Dóku

Su Doku is my latest obsession. It is a game that involves filling in a 9x9 grid with numbers so that every row, column and 3x3 box contains numbers 1-9.

I was first introduced to it last December by my Singaporean friend Ben when we went on a trip to Sagada with Richard and Gerald, another friend from Singapore. As we were about to leave the Dangwa terminal, Ben whipped out his copy of the Straits Times (a Singaporean newspaper) and started working on the Su Doku. I was curious. He told me it's the latest craze in Singapore. Gerald got a piece of paper, copied the puzzle from the Straits, and started working on it as well. Both figured it'll be a great way to kill time during the long drive to Mountain Province. I wasn't instantly interested. I would much rather take in the sceneries. Later on, they couldn't take anymore of the puzzle and decided to sleep through the rest of the bus ride.

We got to Sagada late into the afternoon. We spent the first night resting in preparation for the hectic day that followed. After breakfast, we immediately headed to the big falls, known as Bumod'oc to the locals. I started getting cramps on our trek back from the falls. I fell behind the others just to keep my legs from giving out and collapsing altogether. I wanted to beg off the Sumaguing adventure but I didn't want the group to feel like I was being a kill joy so I sucked it up and went with them anyway. The cramps started acting up again, but I managed. As if the first wasn't torture enough, they insisted in going to the Sumaguing caves that same day. I originally scheduled a more relaxed, scenic trip to a spot overlooking the Sagada Rice Terraces. That meant we only had to sit, chill, take pictures and enjoy the view. But they wanted the caves, so I caved in. We barely made the cut off time for the cave excursions (sayang). That's no mean feat, considering we had to descend from from the top of a mountain to get to Bumod'oc, hike back up again going home (the whole episode was like reverse mountain climbing, which was much harder!), go back down again, this time for the caves, then finally climb back up from underground.

After our dinner at The Yoghurt House (where we had lunch earlier, and where we were to have breakfast the next day), we went back home. The inexistent night life, languid pace and distance of the inn from the town center kept us indoors as early as 7PM. With nothing much to do (the television was being hogged by another group of people who outnumbered us), Richard and I looked for clean sheets of paper and started working on the Su Doku as well.

The fulfillment brought about by filling the boxes with the right numbers is very addictive. I never finished the puzzle (we had to leave the following day), but I've always been curious if I could.

A month or so ago, I saw in Newsbreak (the magazine) a notice saying they were going to feature Su Doku in their bimonthly issue. Sometime at the beginning of June, I saw a similar notice in the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

It wasn't until this week that I decided to check out the Su Doku puzzles. Now, it's one of the first things I look for when I read the papers. I'm proud to say that since I started answering the puzzles four days ago, I haven't failed at completing the boxes correctly. The Newsbreak Su Doku's are much harder though. I tried two of them and both times, I've been stumped. But I haven't given up.

I just feel so accomplished cause I never, ever, complete crossword puzzles. (I've to cut me self some slack though, crosswords are harder). Finally, I've succeeded in finishing a puzzle featured in a daily. For a difficulty rating of three stars, I'm now able to solve a puzzle in as quick as five minutes. Pretty good, I think.

Security

Last week, after watching "The Lakehouse" (starring Sandra and the ageing Keanu) and dropping off Che, I met up with my friend Jarell and decided to have a round of beers in Kalye Juan (Tomas Morato). We were sharing work angsts. He was contemplating leaving his job in Maalaala Mo Kaya (MMK), and he wanted to unload on someone lest he commit to a decision with nary a thought and end up regretting it. I gladly obliged, and took the opportunity to unload some of the work baggage that's been weighing down my shoulders. Indeed, misery loves company. And San Mig Light.

Jarell has been working for MMK for almost as long as I've been with Star Cinema. He started as a researcher, and now works as the show's head researcher. It doesn't sound like it's a big step up, but it actually is. For weeks now, he's been feeling a little stifled by the work load and the erratic and unstable income. He tried consoling himself by looking ahead, by exploring the possibilities in store for him, only to be disappointed cause there might be none. He looked at his seniors who, in Jarell's words, blew off their youth in this same job he's holding. It took them years to get where they are now, resident writers for MMK. He looks at them and sees how sucked out and wasted they are, and Jarell's suddenly not too sure if all this is truly worth it.

I asked him what his options are if he was to leave MMK. He's thinking about leaving for the Middle East to work in a hotel. His relatives tell him that he only needs to train for six months after which they are sure to find a job for him. It's not like Jarell has been dying to get into the hotel industry, but the hefty pay check the job promises to reward him will at least provide him the security he's been looking for. Being passionate about your job just isn't enough. He'd love to stick around as a writer, but right now, it's just not sensible to do so.

Our conversation corroborated the prevalent restlessness symptomatic of kids my age. Even friends with fatter salaries in other jobs don't feel like they're getting enough. Imagine how much worse it is for us who try to live off creative writing. Jarell thinks I'm lucky cause my mom's well-to-do and there to supplement the unbelievably low compensation writers like me in the Philippines get. But what of the future, when my life's completely my own and there isn't my mom's wealth to rely on anymore?

In writing, there isn't a ladder you can climb up, unlike in corporations. There are no rungs to step or hold on to to pull yourself higher. We're not assured of salary increases every X number of months of service. Rarely are we given the statutory benefits most employees get.

In writing, it's just about you and your work. Years of writing can improve one's craft, but it doesn't guarantee an increase in one's value. Companies (in this case, TV stations or film outfits) may hold you in a particular esteem, but in the end, it's still about your work. If they don't like what you hand to them on your deadline, you're asked to revise or put out of commission altogether. It takes a lot of laborious years to build on a good name, but it only takes one bad draft to be of ill-repute.

In writing, there are no tangible standards for excellence. One cannot be guaranteed a promotion after writing for a certain number of years, or after being published, or after a film you wrote grosses over a hundred million in the box office. For starters, there isn't a higher position to promote a writer to. But more importantly, excellence can't be measured because the whole business of writing, of creation, is subjective.

I feel restless because of the uncertainty. Or perhaps because I've always thought that good things come to those who are patient, to those who deserve it. This epiphany about the nature of writing as a profession tells me that you don't always get what you deserve. I want to do everything I can so I can remain in the industry, scribbling and imagining and creating until my dying breath. But it isn't all up to me, much as I want to be the one in complete control.

On top of that, I want to feel secure. I want to be assured that pursuing this passion will yield to a bright and fulfilled future. That I'll be okay for as long as I work hard and believe in my capabilities. But it isn't all up to me, much as I want it to be.

Jarell admitted that even if he ended up leaving his job, he would still want to return to it. There is still nothing he would rather do than write. He just wants to earn enough so he can focus on what he loves doing in the future.

All of a sudden, our conversation was interrupted by this commotion. A guy whose mouth was bleeding came running down from the bar above Kalye Juan. He was shouting for help, asking the men on the ground floor to block the door and not let his pursuers out. In a few seconds, four other guys appeared. Apparently, they were in an altercation upstairs. Something about the guy with the bleeding mouth being maangas. The ladies from both groups desperately tried to keep them off each other, but the four guys were too inebriated to listen to reason. The girls asked the security guard from the bar we were in to intervene, but the guard said,

"Di po sa amin yan, di ako pwedeng basta makialam."

The customers on the other table immediately fled the scene, afraid they might get involved. I told Jarell to stay put, sure that they wouldn't involve us unless we did anything stupid to call attention to ourselves. So Jarell and I just sat there to watch the ongoing ruckus.

The bleeding guy, in a major blunder, decided to take refuge inside Kalye Juan, where we were drinking (I was thinking, kundi ka ba naman tanga, e di lalo kang na-corner. Dapat nagtatatakbo ka na lang o nag-taxi paalis.) Naturally, the drunken quartet tried to follow him inside. All the Kalye Juan waiters retreated to their kitchen. The girl who was with the bleeding guy stayed outside Kalye Juan, inserted her arm through the door handles to keep it shut, and tearfully begged the drunken quartet to have mercy on her friend. The drunken quartet was relentless. It was a glass door, so they could see their target with his tail between his legs, wailing,

"Tama na, please! Sorry na nga e..."

(comment to self: "Ang yabang yabang kanina, titiklop din pala.")

They were less than a meter away from Jarell and me, who were still lounging on our chairs.

At this point, some of the other original customers from Kalye Juan had started goading the bar's security guard (the same one who washed his hands off of any obligation to get involved) to do something about the disturbance. His earlier excuse had been rendered inadmissible since they were actually inside Kalye Juan already. He was duty bound to protect the bars customers and employees. The guard reluctantly took his gun from its holster. But one of the guys saw him and started shouting at the guard,

"Ano, ipuputok mo yan? Ipuputok mo yan!? Sige nga! Sige, iputok mo!"

The guard just backed off. Obviously, the guard wasn't a believer of sticks and stones hurting the quartet's bones, cause words were enough to hurt him. I then noticed one of the guys pick up an empty glass from the table nearest to them. That's when I finally asked Jarell that we better steer clear of any flying shards or ricocheting bullets. Things were getting out of hand.

The exchange of shouts lasted for a few more minutes before being capped by one of the quartet throwing the glass at the guy when glass doors opened wide enough to allow his hand inside. The glass shattered to pieces, but fortunately hurt no one. And then, the quartet was gone.

The bleeding guy lingered inside the bar for a few more minutes before emerging. By then, the rest of the customers who witnessed the hoopla (us included) were just already talking about how the policemen are always too late the hero. And then there was the security guard! Talk about being useless! We rarely see security guards in action, but I've always had faith in them. This would've been the best time to show his wares, to finally get some piece of the action, to live up to his sworn duty. But he just backed off. Probably more afraid of hurting the our tormentors than potentially getting their innocent patrons hurt.

Which only proves my point that there is no real security in this world. Whether it be in our careers, our future, or in bar brawls. We can only do so much, and the rest, faith will have to account for.

For Take Out

Don't you wish there was a counter
where you could do just that?

Breaking New Ground

A new ranch to park my thoughts in.

Hay, Majayjay

Last Saturday evening, in my desire to make the long weekend my own, I asked three of my friends if they would be interested in going on an impromptu road trip with me. Luckily, they were all game. After rounding up our P388-per-head consumable account in I.O. KTV, Norman, Che and I picked up Anya and some personal stuff, and we headed to Laguna.

It was a tiring drive, however quick it was. We got to our destination in less than three hours. I was looking forward to sleeping, to having the serene Majayjay bounties cradle me to sleep. But such was the beauty of the small town's attractions that I couldn't resist staying up, even if I've been there before (it was my second time and I don't think it will be my last). For 60 bucks per person, and an additional P200 for a cottage, we were pulled out of the personal ruts we were all stuck in. Each person in our clique was complaining of either boredom, stress or frustration. Our spur-of-the-moment decision to leave the city was paying off.

Soon, Che was in the water making up for the summer that slipped by ("Tapos na ang summer, di man lang ako nakapag-beach!"). I'm sure it more than made up for sandy shores she missed frolicking in. We asked the kind manangs of the resort to buy us lunch from the town market, which they kindly agreed to do. I laid my weary body down the picnic table, but the babbling brook just would't let me sleep. I got up, put on my surf shorts, and joined Che in the water.

The water was so cold that I decided to wade in it for a while. It was so pristine it washed way everything we wished to be rid of. I hopped from rock to rock until I was underneath the bridge that connected the parking lot to the other side of the stream, where our cottage was. I thought, maybe I should work myself out a bit. Perhaps sweating it out would enable my body to stand the icy temperature of the water. I picked a spot where the sun could shine on me and relaxed.

Che got enticed and went over to where I was. In my head, I started thinking about how tragic it would be if she slipped on one of the rocks and cracked her skull. I watched keenly and guided her on which trail was the safest.

Then, it was Norman's turn to join in. Anya was more interested in sleeping, so we just let her be. After a few minutes of camera whoring, Norman followed to where Che and I were. It wasn't long before he, too, was in the water.

The water was more bearable by then, but I still couldn't get myself to just swim in. Maybe if I just jumped in, it'd be easier for me. Great idea, I thought.

I walked back to our cottage where Anya was sleeping. It was a bit elevated, providing the necessary height for my jump. I asked Che to swim toward the area I was targeting to jump in to check how deep the water was. The water was a little above her waist from where she was standing, but she said the area right in front of her was deeper. Perfect. That was to be the contact point.

After feigning a few times, off I leapt, like a cannonball, legs tucked in, knees almost to my chin.

It was effective.

Despite the big splash, I didn't feel the cold at all. Instead, what I felt was this terrible pain on both my shins. So painful that I had to hold on to Che, unintentionally dragging her with me. When I surfaced, Che was harping about how she almost fell and drowned. And all I could say was, "Tumama ako."

I haven't even seen my leg yet but I kept telling Che that it was deep. She wanted to see how bad it was. I took a quick peek and saw that it was bad. I told her she won't be able to take it. She insisted. When I showed her, she had to cover her mouth in incredulity. Right below my knee, above my shin, was this gaping wound. It was pasty white, like how your skin looks when you've accidentally shaved off a part of it. Only this was much bigger. Like a portion of my flesh was scooped out. The gentle current was dragging away some of the torn flesh. I thought I even saw the bone at the center of the laceration. It was that big and that deep.

With a limp, I forced my self to get out of the water to fetch my toiletry bag. I fished out a bottle of betadyne and used it to clean the wound. Anya was woken up by the commotion. Upon seeing my wound, then bleeding profusely, she took a small block of ice meant for the Coke, wrapped it in my sarong, and told me to apply it on my swollen wound. Norman and Che asked the resort staff for some first aid materials, and came back with box of gauze and masking tape.

There was a moment before jumping off when I thought, "This could turn ugly." And it did.

I didn't want to spoil the fun by rushing everyone so I can get some medical attention, so I tried to bear the pain. We even had lunch first, feasting on a plate of grilled liempo, eating with our bare hands. (Sobrang sarap niya, Che was craving for that liempo the other night). But I was afraid the injury will get infected if not attended to immediately. It was so painful my leg started to throb. I had to require help in changing into dry clothes.

We left Majayjay a little past noon. We drove all the way to Santa Cruz, Laguna, the provincial capitol, to look for a hospital where they could stitch up my wound. I was convinced I needed one or two stitches, though everyone else thought a simple disinfecting was enough.

I wanted to admit myself to the provincial hospital (past experiences had taught me government hospitals still have the best doctors). After one of the doctors finished attending to a mother whose baby might have been suffering from dengue, she confirmed that I might need one stitch, and that they'll have to inject ATS (which I later learned meant, Anti-Tetanus... something). She said I just had to sign up and wait for my turn, which may take a while because there were a lot of other patients. When I looked around, there were patients on wheelchairs, with bandages on their heads, with tubes running from their wrists. One was even on a gas tank. I felt diminished by my trifling concern (Malayo sa bituka! Samantalang yung iba, dine-dengue na). The doctor said it may take an hour or so, but at least it's free. All I had to pay for was the meds.

I looked at Che, who mirrored the defeated look on my face. Then the doctor offered another option. There were a few private hospitals on the same street where the provincial was. There were probably less patients, but I'd have to spend a bit more. I decided to do that instead.

right in front of the provincial hospital.We drove out of the provincial hospital and looked for one of the hospitals the doctor mentioned. "Holy Family," she said. We drove back and forth only to realize that it was.

When I walked into the emergency room, it was empty. It looked like the hospital was closed for the day. The congenial security guard had to call for the nurse, who eventually called for the doctor. It took him just one look before declaring that I'd need three stitches.


Now, I have this horrendous, frankenstein-like beauty mark on my leg. I still can't walk in a normal pace, and I have to take this capsule every six hours for seven days. That's what I get for not following my gut.

At least I'm bound to remember this trip for eternity. I need only to look at my shin to be reminded of my tragic out-of-town trip that Independence day weekend of '06.

Hay, Majayjay...

Three Questions

Norms did this personality assessment test of sorts on us last week. It's the kind where you're asked questions and your answers are supposed to reflect aspects of your personality. I've always been a sucker for those stuff so I gladly obliged.

It's pretty simple. The three questions:

1) What's your favorite animal, and why?


2) Which animal is for you, okay lang? The one you have no strong feelings for? Yung wala lang? Why?


3) Which animal do you hate, and why?


We were supposed to support our answers by enumerating the traits of that animal that we answered to a particular question.

The first was easy. I answered "Horse." They've always been one of my favorite animals. It was a toss up between a horse and a dolphin.

For the second question, I answered "Dogs." I actually have three dogs: Mutt Li, Reiko, and Mecca (I have a new, fourth one, but I haven't met her - Nixa). I love them to bits. Primarily because they're mine. Because I chose them to be my pets. I've had more dogs as pets than any other animal, but in general, as animals, I don't have strong feelings for dogs. Sila yung 'wala lang.'

The third question was for me, the toughest. Of the gazzillions of animals that existed, it was hard to pick one that I hated the most. Then I remembered this trip to Palawan I had with my friends.

It was in October of 2004. A send-off gimmick for one of our good friends, Ayie, who was leaving for the States for good. Another friend of ours, Joey, is originally from Puerto Princesa, so she invited us over and made us stay in her home for free. She took on the role of our personal tour guide as well.

We went island hopping in Honda Bay (where the famous Dos Palmas island resort is located), visited favorite local destinations in the outskirts of PPrincesa, and checked out the night life (which in PP meant singing with DOMs and giggly girls in a sleazy videoke bar). Of course, there was the perfunctory drinking session till the wee hours of the morning. Half of our group was inebriated beyond recognition. Yung hostess nga namin, si Joey, nung tulugan na, panay

ang dasal. "Lord... Thank you for the sweet watermelons... Thank you for my friends... I pray we won't have hang over tomorrow..."

And then we went to St. Paul Cave, the subterranean river national park that was declared a World Heritage Site. It was a good 3-hour drive north of PPrincesa. I've done the boat tour of the dark cave before, and the novelty of the boatman's spiels and jokes do wear out (pang-one time, big-time lang), so I, along with two other friends, decided to stay in the picnic area and wait for the first timers to return instead, surrounded by humongous monitor lizards and scavenging monkeys.

I was so tired from the night before that I decided to take a nap on the picnic bench while my two other friends munched on the snacks we brought. Slowly, I fell into the land of Nod. I

haven't even started snoring when I was jolted out of sleep by a sudden motion above my head, accompanied by frantic shrieks from my friends.

I shot up and jumped on the table, paranoid and afraid that one of the bayawaks had bitten my leg without me realizing it. I was fine (if you don't count my almost heart-attack). It was then that my friends started pointing at the woods. When I looked, they were actually pointing to the monkey who ran up our picnic table and stole some of the food that we brought - right in front of my friends! As in, hindi man lang natakot. Walang kahiya-hiya, naglulundag siya papunta sa mesa namin, tumalon sa ibabaw ng natutulog kong katawan, at ninakaw ang pagkain sa gitna ng magkatapat at nagkwe-kwentuhan kong mga kaibigan. Ganon ka garapal.

I was so pissed. Not because of the loss, but because I was still shaking and my heart was beating so fast. I felt scared, and one-upped! We kept shouting at the monkey and the rest of his posse, trying to shoo them away, but they just stared right back at us, undaunted. I threw something at them, which sent them scurrying off. But it wasn't long before they were back, surveying our perimeter and eyeing our picnic basket.

So finally, I had an answer to the last question. The animal I hated the most: Monkey.

I said I liked horses the most because they're intelligent and regal. I also think they're strong and loyal. Profound even, if that makes sense. They just have that impression on me. Come to think of it, those are the same traits I like in dolphins.

Norman said the animal we like the most represents how we think people see us. I guess, in effect, it means it's how we hope people see us. Going a step further, I guess it's how we think of ourselves.

I fell silent after he said what that first question meant. It was kinda embarrassing to unintentionally disclose that I think of myself as intelligent, regal, and profound.

Although I believe it, on a certain level. On the intelligent part, I think I've reason to think that I am naman. Lagi ngang biruan namin ng kaibigan ko... Pumasa kaya ako ng UPCAT! Pero yung "regal" at "profound," parang... OA na ata. Feeling na. Feeling deep. Feeling royalty pa.

The second question tells us how people actually see us. Sabi lang naman yan ni Norman. I chose dogs because, "I like them a lot, but they're everywhere. They've lost their novelty. Parang... taken for granted." They're lovable, smart, loyal, reliable... but every other household has one. You go to middle class neighborhoods and you'd see them roaming around. Every member of a breed looks the same. Unless they're temperamental, they're all deemed cute. Kumbaga, unless you're its master, you won't be able to recognize the individuality of one dog from the other. Kaya nga nababale-wala.

That that's how people saw me made me think. And it actually stung. Precisely because I feel taken for granted in a lot of ways. Maybe it's because I don

't have siblings of my own, but I really put a lot of weight on my relationships with friends. Mom ko na lang kasama ko, medyo estranged pa ko sa mga kamag-anak ko. E matampuhin pa ko. Tipong, sana maaalala ako ng kaibigan ko, sana gawin niya to sa kin, pero wala naman akong gagawin para mangyari yon. I'd remember the times they'd look for me because they needed me, and only then. Kahit alam kong di sadya, I put a lot of meaning in actions and events. Not like I'm maudlin, but I admit to being sentimental, though not necessarily expressive. Silent cries for attention. I'm a paradox that way. I usually get over those mild KSP attacks by thinking it's all in my head. OA lang ako at maisip. Most of the time, it really is the case, after all. Such rationalization usually pulls me through.

That my answer to the second question affirms that people do

take me for granted depressed me.

Maybe it's karma. That's how I see dogs because that's how I am with my own dogs. I do take them for granted. There're days when the only time I get to pet Mutt Li, Reiko and Mecca is when I arrive home from work, if at all, and only because their roofed bedspace is strategically located in front of my garage. Kung hindi pa siguro, baka nga di ko pa sila maaalala. I even feel - no, I know for a fact - they're closer to my helper. They just look out to me when I I go to my car to leave. But when Dora, my helper, comes out to open the gate for me, they'd bark their lungs off for attention. If it really were karma, isn't it a little hyperbolic a retribution?

Finally, the Monkey. I know that they're man's closest relative. They're intelligent and clever, but I hate them the most because like Darth Vader, it's like they turned to the dark side. Like they're using they're intelligence for selfis

h reasons. They're rude and shrewd. Stubborn and unpredictable. Loud, annoying. You know how some kids look like they're small adults? Well monkeys are like small lolo's. At least all the other animals look like animals. Monkeys look like they're bad effigies of human beings. Man when disproportionate and mentally regressed. Freaky. Freaks.

Then Norman said, they represent who we really are.

Ayun na. That's when I knew all this was bullshit. Napaisip-isip pa ko. Nadepress-depress pa ko. Pucha.

Ako, unggoy!?

WHAT AM I DOING HERE?

I just told my boss that I never fancied myself a writer. Not in high school, not in college, not even when I was already in Star Cinema, training to be one. When I dropped out of Law School, the only thing I knew for sure was that I wouldn't be happy making my life revolve around laws and cases, and that I wanted to make films.

I applied to Star Cinema because a few months before I dropped out of UP Law, I received an email from the UP Film Center egroups announcing an opening for its Concept Development Group (CDG). I didn't know what the job entailed. Like I said, all I knew was I wanted to be in the film industry. I jumped at the first opportunity that came my way. It didn't even matter to me that it was Star. I wasn't conscious of which production outfit did which film, or which of them was the best. An opportunity was being dangled like a carrot on a stick, and like a horse, I galloped onwards. Almost blindly, one could say.

After inquiring about the opening, I sent them my resume. I was asked to come in for an interview, but since it was the midterm season in Law then, my schedule was exaggeratedly hectic and I ended up missing my appointment. I didn't even call in to tell them I wasn't coming anymore.

A few months after, I was beside myself with regret, remembering that missed opportunity and hoping I had at least called them to explain why I couldn't come. I feared if I tried applying again, they'll remember my rude non-appearance and instantly reject me. I shared this to Lea, a friend of mine. When she heard the name of the person who sent the email to the UPFC egroups, she said the girl was her friend. It felt to me like divine intervention, and asked Lea to call the girl to ask if Star was still looking for CDG members. A few minutes after, Guia Gonzales of Star Cinema Creative Department called me on my mobile and asked me if I was still interested. Naturally, I said yes. An interview with the Star's Creative Manager was scheduled. I was requested to bring a sample storyline. A few weeks after, I was hired.

That was two years and four months ago. And here I am, still in Star Cinema, still training to be a writer. Still clueless as ever. When I got accepted, I didn’t even know the first thing about screenwriting. They told me that as a CDG member, I’d be expected to develop storylines that will be submitted to the management for evaluation. If it were deemed good enough, they were to produce it. In exchange, I’d be compensated on a monthly basis. It was the best deal an aspiring screenwriter could ask for in the Philippines. Star Cinema had the best studio system in the industry, and the setup they offered sure beats having to hone your skill independently, on a freelance basis, without any assurance of a commercial film company investing on any of the scripts you might eventually finish. What Star offered was training, connections, experience, and to a certain degree, security. The deal had its downside. I was well aware of that, and that gave me enough comfort. I thought, knowing what I was getting into would be enough to shield me from possible frustrations of having corporate people dictate what kinds of stories you should develop.

Needless to say, it was harder than I thought.

For the record, none of the projects I was involved with has been published (produced, that is). I've helped in quite a few story and script developments, but most of those have been shelved or dropped. There's one script that I helped co-write and is now in the process of being shot, but somewhere along the script's development, a script doctor was called in and all that was left in our original work is the story. All the lines that I wrote have been 'revised.'

That is perhaps the reason why I've always been frustrated when asked about my job. My career. It's because nothing seems to be happening.

So imagine the euphoria I felt when I was told that I'd be working on my first solo-writing project. It’s officially part of the training, and it didn’t really mean I was necessarily ready for the task, but it was in effect saying they’re finally risking it, and I’m the lucky one on whom they’ve decided to bestow the honor.

It was for what turned out to be a fast-track project, which in Star Cinema means double the pressure in half the time. I was to develop both the story and the script within two months following the storyline’s approval. Most veteran screenwriters are probably given at least a month to write a script, but with all the things that we needed to accomplish (including storyline revisions, sequence treatment submission and revisions, research, and creative meetings to discuss feedback from the power wielders), I was to be given only given two weeks to write the first draft of the script.

A few days after my submission, I got a call from our creative director. She said that we needed to meet soon because there were a lot of concerns regarding my first draft. It sounded like it was less than satisfactory, and that it would entail a lot of work to have it ready in time for the target grind date (start of film production).

After going through what they perceived were the problems in the script, she told me they’re bringing in reinforcements to work on the second draft of the script. Two of my colleagues are now working on it, and they are to submit their draft tomorrow. And by the sound of it, aside from the story, none of my first draft can or will be salvaged. I am to come back in on the third draft.

I remember a few summers ago, when my friends and I were on vacation in Puerto Galera. We were swimming in the beach as the sun was setting. The waves were particularly wilder and stronger at that time. We were all enjoying, playing with the gigantic waves, which at times rose higher than the tallest guy in our group. One by one they retreated back to the beach, until I was the only one left playing with the crashing waves. I was still having fun. Suddenly, a wave crashed over me, its crest falling intentionally at the back of my head, pushing me earthbound, pressing my face on the sandy ground and dragging me all the way to the shore. I couldn’t breathe for what felt like an hour. When I got back up, gasping for air, I felt betrayed and embarrassed beyond words (my friends didn’t seem to notice).

The feeling is not much different from what I felt last week, when I was told about the plan of action regarding the script I’ve been developing. Like when a rug had been pulled from under your feet, I felt betrayed and embarrassed. Luckily, my boss is very nurturing and encouraging that she allows me to vent my frustrations (even if unsolicited). After owning up to my shortcomings, I told her I’ve been feeling stifled by this writing experience. I felt like I'm made to learn the lessons belatedly, instead of being prepared for it. It didn’t help that we were being rushed to meet the target grind date (which by the way is supposed to be next week, May 2). My exact words: “It's like the situation is made ripe for me to foul up. Then naturally I do. And then that's when I'm taught and told how I should've done it, or how Star would've preferred it.”

I’m still feeling disoriented by these setbacks, but I’m trying my darndest best to take things constructively. It was then that I confessed to my boss, the creative director, more than two years since they hired me to become a writer, that I never fancied myself as one.

I don't how much training one needs to be a writer. What I fear is that it might be something that cannot be taught. I’m feeling the pangs of frustration sink in, afraid there’s no amount of training that can solve the problems they find in my script. Afraid that the only thing waiting to be realized is that screeenwriting isn’t for me after all.

And So?

I forget who among my friends pointed this out. Si Norman ata. But it made me think...

"One, two, three
Asawa ni Marie
Araw-gabi
Walang panty"

And so? Di ba nga, asawa ni Marie? Ba't magkaka-panty?

They Try To Tell Us We’re Toyang…

Ang tagal akong nangating isulat to. Recent events kept me busy the whole first quarter of the year. Thankfully, my schedule’s starting to lighten up, giving me time to finally write this.

At first, I had difficulty remembering noteworthy anecdotes from high school. Karamihan kasi sa naisip ko, funny incidents involving other classmates. I was reluctant listing them down cause they weren’t my stories to tell. So I tried hard to remember my own personal stories from high school.

Then it started coming. First, in trickles, then nagsunod-sunod na. Ngayon, di ko na mapigilan. Akala ko pa naman, naipon na lahat ng kahihiyan ko nung kabataan ko (na by the way e unti-unti pang nadadagdagan). Hanggang high school pala, dala ko pa! Some things never change, ika nga.

I guess I should find consolation in the fact that I found my childhood recollections wonderful therapy. Malamang ganon din sa high school. Ang nakakatakot lang, I can no longer use childhood innocence as instant excuse for my shame. At this point, batang matanda na. May wisyo at sense of kahihiyan. May isip na, kaya wala nang lusot. Ika nga ng Eraserheads sa dulo ng isa nilang kanta: “We’re not… too young… at all."

Pero okay lang. Masaya naman… Makes me realize na kahit beset by adolescent angsts at insecurities, iba pa rin talaga ang high school!

1. I was part of the Track and Field varsity team when I was a Freshman. Every other day, may training kami. We’d stay after school hours, run countless rounds on our soccer field, then cap off each training day with fifty push-ups and fifty sit-ups. Kahit umaambon o umuulan, tumatakbo kami. I did that for so many weeks. Naalala ko, pag uwi ko sa bahay, every inch of my body ached that I didn’t have the energy to study anymore. I’d flop on the sofa and wake up at 5AM the following day na.
   
   By the time I quit the team, ni isang kompetisyon, wala akong sinalihan.
   
   
2. I was a newcomer sa honors section when we were Freshmen. Kaya naman when I first landed sa Top 10 ng class nung first quarter ng Second Year namin, sobrang kinagulat ng classmates ko. Parang, “Surprise!” Si John Rae pa, who was tasked to prepare the Top 10 list on a cartolina to be posted at the back wall of the class, made such a big fuss out of it. Ginawan ng controversy! When our most grade-conscious classmates fished for info on who made it to the list, tipong John Rae would go, “Basta, magugulat kayo!”
   
   Although proud ako, I slightly felt bad kasi feeling ko, they’ve thought of me as saling pusa. Especially since they’ve been classmates since Grade 7 and they shared so much history together. That incident validated that feeling of somehow being an outsider still. Buti na lang, the novelty wore out. By the time we graduated, I was able to find some of my most treasured friends from that bunch of people.
   
   
3. Like most boys of our generation, my classmates got hooked on Dungeons & Dragons (and Magic). I was one of three or four guys in the class who didn’t play. Not once!
   
   
4. Nagkaron kami ng field trip sa Subic para sa Araling Panlipunan class namin under Mr. Aspacio. May options kami noon. Pwedeng bumalik rin that same afternoon or mag-overnight sa Subic. Konti lang ang nag-overnight, kasama don ako at si Jayson.
   
   Dahil may overnight option, we were allowed to wear civilian clothes (normally kasi, uniform dapat). On the way there, katabi ko si Jayson sa bus, at napansin ko yung polo shirt niya. Ang tatak, di karaniwan. Parang pirma yung logo sa may sleeve ata ng shirt. Nang pagmasdan ko pa lalo, na decipher ko na rin. “Jaworski” pala yung naka sulat. Tawa ako ng tawa. Panay ang pag-alaska ko ke Jayson. He kept saying sa daddy niya daw yon, although natatawa rin naman siya.
   
   When we got to Subic, and got left behind to sleep in the barracks, na-realize ko na wala pala akong dalang blanket. OA pa naman yung aircon. Pag gising ko kinabukasan, I was surprised na di ako nagyelo. Bilis talaga ng karma.
   
   
5. We were in Freshmen when we first heard the Eraserheads. One of the boys in our class brought a tape of Ultraelectromagneticpop.
   
   Meron non component/karaoke na nasa likod ng classroom. Ginamit ata ng isang group para sa isang play. One time, wala yung isa naming teacher at wala ring pinadala na substitute, so libre yung period namin. A teacher just came over to warn us that she’ll be dropping in on us to make sure we didn’t make noise. Yung boys, nag-decide na patugtugin ng mahinang volume sa karaoke yung tape.
   
   We were bowled over by the songs. Impressed that they used “tang ina” in “Pare Ko” (yung sanitized version, as we all know, replaced it with “’lang hiya”).
   
   Sobrang naalala ko pa yung eksena: We were all quiet. Some were resting, some had their heads bowed down reading books. But we were all listening to the songs playing from the karaoke. Then, when the controversial parts came, napangiti kami at nagtinginan sa isa’t isa, somehow disbelieving. Feeling namin, ang galing at tapang naman ng band na yon. Ang ganda pa ng melodies at lyrics, kahit kanto ang dating nung mga kanta.
   
   That’s how many of us became instant Eraserheads fans.
   
   
6. Alabang Town Center, formerly Alabang Twin Cinema, also known as ATC, and eventually nicknamed “Town,” was a big part of my high school life. After dismissal on Fridays, or after our Saturday class meetings, we’d always proceed to “Town” to watch a movie, eat lunch, or just hang out. Di ko lang alam kung andyan pa sila, pero eto yung mga madalas namin puntahang establishments: Blued. All Boxed Up. Tickles. Racks. Kenny Rogers. Coffee Experience. Pancake House. Saint Cinammon. Baskin Robbin’s.
   
   
7. Our Biology teacher in second year, Mr. Cajigal, is memorable not only because he used a mini-karaoke with matching microphone during his lectures, but also because he’s the designated choirmaster for the school’s first Friday mass. At least for that year. He loved our class so much that he rehearsed us to perform for those monthly masses (using his own period to do so), preferring us to his own advisory class.
   
   One time, medyo napahaba ang lecture niya kaya maikli lang ang na-designate niyang rehearsal time for the mass songs. Meron pa naman siyang mga bagong kanta na sinali sa repertoire namin. Ang chosen closing song niya, “I Will Sing Forever Of Your Love.”
   
   Nung ni-re-rehearse na namin, pagdating sa bandang end ng song na mataas pala, biglang humina ang boses ng karamihan at isa ako sa iilang nag-attempt abutin yung high note (yung second to the final line which goes “And I will sing forever of your love, O Lord!”). Most of us protested na wag na lang yung kantang yon, but Mr. Cajigal was adamant. Wala pa mandin si John Rae, yung resident singer ng klase. Someone said, si Raz na lang sa birit part na “O Loooorrd!” E by then, it was almost time for the mass and we didn’t have time to change the song. Wala kaming napag-agree-han na solusyon when we hurriedly left the class.
   
   Nung nasa mass na, at closing song na, tinitingnan na ko ng mga kaklase ko, whispering “ikaw na lang dun sa part na yon ha.” Syempre, ayoko solohin yung kahihiyan, pero napagkaisahan na ko. Yung isa kong classmate, after the communion, sa ibang lugar na pumuwesto, para ako ang mapalapit dun sa mic. Pakiramdam ko naman, pinagtitripan lang nila ko para ma-praning ako na ako nga lang mag-iisa sa part na yon.
   
   When that dreaded part came, we sang in chorus… “And I will sing forever of your love…”
   
   Tapos, nanahimik ang buong class. I realized they weren’t joking after all. After a microsecond delay, I sang by my lonesome… “O, Loooooooorrrd!”
   
   Ganon pala pakiramdam… as in mag-isang bumirit ang boses ko sa buong gym. I felt like I was God’s joke for the day.
   
   In fairness to my classmates, at palibhasa mababa na yung remaining part of the song, they joined in na ulit for the final part… which only made that two-word part I sang weirder.
   
   
8. Most of my contemporaries from other schools were part of CMLI or were sent to press conferences in other parts of the country. Not me. That was one of my frustrations in high school. Although… ! I was sent to one out of school contest. My Filipino teacher, Mrs. Delfin, chose me to represent the school in a writing competition. I was excused for a whole day as she accompanied me to Assumption Antipolo for an ecology-themed essay-writing contest. I was flattered, naturally.
   
   When we got there, ako lang ang male contestant. For some reason, nahiya ako. And even though it was a writing contest (therefore, very personal as opposed to standing in front of a crowd in an elocution contest), I got the case of the jitters. Ended up writing this lame piece na di pinag-isipan. Pero siyempre di ko inamin kay Mrs. Delfin yon. When she asked how I did, sabi ko, “Great!” She was the first person who trusted in my writing skill.
   
   
9. Nung Health Week, each class had to make a poster that had the theme of maintaining the body’s cleanliness. Because it was under our PE class, most of my classmates didn’t think much of the activity. Ako lang ata ang nagpapanic tungkol don as the deadline for our obligatory entry fast approached. Tuloy, by virtue of the fact that no one else was worried, napilitan akong akuin yung responsibility sa paggawa nung poster, magka-entry lang yung class namin.
   
   When the winners were announced during the Gym Assembly, our class, myself included, was surprised when we bagged the First Prize. Yung ginawa ko kase, may pagka-cutesy, amateurish, compared to the other classes’ stylish entries which looked like pages torn off from Marvel comic books. The vice principal asked our class president to receive the certificate. Our gracious president naman asked me to receive it in the class’ behalf.
   
   
10. One time in high school, the school administration installed little blackboards beside the classrooms’ doors. It was where we were supposed to write important announcements about the class, like if we’re going to the Art Building, or if we’re out on a field trip, or other more relevant things like that. The class advisers were instructed to tell their class about the use of such blackboards. Unfortunately, the day they were supposed to do that, our adviser was absent.
    
    That morning, I, along with two other classmates, was tasked to finish the mural each class was supposed to make for a contest during the Nutrition Week. While enjoying the chance to be excused from homeroom, I started doodling chalk drawings on the newly installed blackboard. Tamang tama naman, dumaan yung isa sa teachers namen, si Mr. Elloso.
    
    He was obviously not in a good mood. When he saw me doodling, he backtracked and reprimanded me, asking if hindi ba daw kami sinabihan ng adviser namin kung para saan lang ang gamit ng blackboard na iyon. I answered truthfully. “Hindi po.” E sa absent nga yung adviser namin, di ba?
    
    I think he was slightly humiliated dahil nabara ko siya, so he went on a tirade regarding the small blackboard’s exclusive use. When he was done, he stalked off. I belatedly said, “Sorry, Sir!” I think, medyo sarcastic yata lumabas. Narinig ni Mr. Elloso. So bumalik ulit siya.
    
    “Anong sabi mo?”
    
    “Sabi ko, ‘Sorry, Sir.’”
    
    “AYUSIN MOHHHH!!!!”
    
    Imagine that last one resounding through the whole administration building, breaking the holy silence of homeroom period. Quite a number of heads popped out of their classrooms to see what it was about. Gusto kong maglaho sa sobrang kahihiyan. Lunch na, tinatanong pa rin ko ng lahat ng makasalubong ko kung anong nangyari.
    
    I was vindicated though. That same lunch break, pinatawag ako ni Mr. Elloso sa faculty room and he apologized to me. Ha!
    
    
11. Mr. Cajigal taught us about fermentation and how yeast helps in turning grape juice into wine. To make us appreciate this lesson better, pinagawa niya ang bawat isa sa amin ng sarili naming bote ng alak. We mashed grapes, extracted its juice, put it in a bottle with yeast, and left it to ferment for a few weeks. We were to package our wine and come up with advertising campaigns for it as well.
    
    Yung sa kin, submission time na, di pa rin nawawala yung yeast. Tuloy, nung sinubmit ko siya, may buo-buong accumulations sa bottom ng wine bottle ko. I named it “Dionysus,” in honor of the Greek God of wine, tapos, dinaan ko na lang lahat sa marketing. May mga colorful magazine advertisements pa ko. At kinarir ko yung pag-rerepackage ng Chivas Regal bottle na ginamit ko para magmukhang lehitimong produkto yung Dionysus wine. Nagpatulong pa ko sa classmate ko na si Mars para mag-isip ng most appropriate tune for my jingle, for which she suggested a Billy Joel classic.
    
    Imagine me singing to my Biology professor, to the tune of “Uptown Girl,” the following lyrics:
    
    Dionysus Wine
    It’s the most delicious wine you’ll try
    It’s amazingly crisp and dry
    You’ll never ever want another wine
    Dionysus Wine!
    
    And when you taste it
    You’ll love it
    So fi-eeyay-ine
    
    You’ll want no other
    Won’t bother
    With-another-wi-eeyay-ine!
    (Repeat till fade out)
    
    I remember mataas yung grade ko don kahit di nakumpleto ang fermentation ng aking wine.
    
    
12. I was rarely asked to play a part in class plays which were in competition with other class’. In fact, isang beses lang ata ako na-cast. I was always made part of the props crew, yung backstage people na taga-gawa at taga buhat ng mga back-drop, handprops and the like. We’ve become an expert in the craft. We always dished out the most realistic and most creative stuff. Meanwhile, the only play wherein I was made to act was Noli Me Tangere, junior year. Pinag-hati-hati yung buong Noli into seven parts (seven sections kasi kami sa batch). Boring yung napunta sa men, yung part na nag-ku-kwento ng backstory niya si Simon. At ang aking stellar role? Elias’s Father. Ni-reenact ko yung part kung kailan natagpuan ng tatay ni Elias yung lolo niya nag-bigti. Tumataginting na 30 seconds lang ang exposure ko, pero kinarir ko. Tumodo ako sa internalization. When my part came, may pag-tulo pa ko ng luha!
    
    
13. I remember getting a perfect score in one of our Chemistry long exams under Brother Martin’s class. He was our uber brilliant, uber nice Chem teacher who used the coolest lecture props. Valedictorian pa ata namin yung natatanging isa pa na naka-perfect den. Talagang di ko to makalimutan. Moment of pride kase yon. E sa dinami-dami ng kahihiyan ko sa Zobel, talagang conscious ako pag may ka-proud-proud akong ginawa.
    
    
14. Dahil honors section, madalas nata-tap yung class namin para mag-perform for the whole school. One of our best performances was this Linggo Ng Wika play entitled “Sino Sa Piso?” The story was about Rizal, Bonifacio and Aguinaldo’s fight on who among them deserved to be on the face of the Piso coin. In the end, yung kalabaw ang inilagay.
    
    It was well received. May pagka-musical pa nga yon e. Ang finale kasi namin, isang original composition (“Sino, sino sa kanila? Ang dapat ilagay sa piso? Sino, sino ba talaga? Rizal ba, Bonifacio o Aguinaldo? Sino ba!?) May sayaw yon, shempre. Choreographed by our Economics teacher, Mrs. Iya.
    
    During rehearsals, sa sobrang kainisan niya dahil di naman lahat sa amin ay dancers, ipinatigil niya ang music at pinagalitan kaming lahat. Di daw namin sini-seryoso. Yung iba daw sa amin, mas inaatupag pa ang magsuklay habang sumasayaw.
    
    Ako non, nakikipag-usap sa isang classmate ko, checking if I had my choreography and counting correct. Suddenly, that classmate of mine asked me to shut up. Pag tingin ko kay Mrs. Iya, nakatitig siya sa akin. Ako pala yung tinutukoy niya na nagsusuklay habang sumasayaw. As usual, napahiya na naman ako.
    
    
    
15. My first out of town trip with friends was with Ronald and Jayson in 1995, when we went to Cebu, na may sidetrip sa Bohol. We stayed at Plantation Bay Hotel, which back then was fairly new. It was very memorable cause I remember feeling so independent, palibhasa, it was my first time to ride a plane and stay in a far away city with no relative looking over me.
    
    
16. You remember how we all used to cram before a long exam? Yung tipong, pagkatapos ng class before, we hurriedly took out our books and notes and crammed what we needed to remember for the exam?
    
    I was no different. Isang beses, long exam namin para sa Araling Panlipunan / History. Nung pumasok na yung teacher namin, marami sa amin, nag-la-last minute review pa rin, pati ako. I was so immersed in cramming. Isip ko pa, “buti hindi pa nag-sisimula sa exam, nakaka-review pa ko.” Nanahimik pa nga yung class e.
    
    Ang butihin kong seatmate, bigla akong ni-nudge. Di ko pinapansin dahil nagpapanic pa ko sa last minute review ko. Hanggang finally, may narinig akong nagtaas ng boses. “Manhid talaga. Ang MANHID!!!”
    
    Pag angat ng ulo ko, sa harap ng row namin, nakatayo at nakatitig sa akin si Mr. Elloso, yung history teacher (yup, siya ulit). Hindi lang siya. Yung buong class nakatitig sa kin. Ako na lang pala ang hinihintay.
    
    
17. My fourth year “club” (our mandatory extra-curricular activity which meets every Wednesday afternoon) was the Media Circle. I don’t remember doing anything significance in that club, except going to Delta and watching “‘Sang Linggo Na Po Sila” in person. Nainis pa sa ‘min yung floor director kase ang sosyal kong club-mates ayaw pumalakpak as instructed. Meaning ABS-CBN-style, yung tipong clapping over your heads.
    
    
18. I didn’t have to take the CAT when I was in senior year. I was exempted, along with a few other classmates, cause we were hand-picked by our adviser-cum-Physics teacher for this Physics Olympiad to be held sometime during the school year. Lucky us! Lucky talaga cause either the contest fell through or Mrs. Telen didn’t think we were good enough, but the school year ended and we didn’t have no contest to join. Naging excuse lang namin siya for CAT. Yun nga lang, pag dating ko sa UP, wala tuloy akong kaalam-alam nang mag-ROTC ako.
    
    
19. Our junior year prom was held in EDSA Shangri-La. Those without dates in our barkada decided to go stag – parang group date tuloy lumabas. Ronald, Rissa and I went over to Jacky’s house so we could go to Shang together. Hinatid kami ng family ni Jacky. The evening went along fine.
    
    By the end of the evening, at around midnight (corny nga e), we were all waiting for my driver, Ka Tams. Our arrangement kasi was si Jacky papunta, ako bahala pa uwi. 3AM na, wala pa si Ka Tams. We were waiting sa lobby ng Shangri-La EDSA. Unti-unti nang nawala ang batchmates namin until we were the only ones left there. I was worried by then, not to mention embarrassed. Di pa naman kasi uso ang cell phones noon, at ako lang ang may pager, Ka Tams had none.
    
    Finally, my driver arrived. It turned out Ka Tams had been waiting for us since 10PM… in Shangri-La Makati!
    
    
20. My senior year prom memory is more pleasant. I guess everyone in our class was in a nostalgic mood since it marked our last year in Zobel. The lines that separated the cliques were blurred, and when the evening ended, everyone wanted more. We all decided to follow-up the prom with a nightcap at Galo’s along South Super Highway, near the Sucat exit. Feeling the excitement of being a grown up (you get that when you’re in fourth year high school), I told my driver (si Ka Tams ulit!) to leave the car with me na lang. I gave him cab money and decided to drive the car to Galo’s myself. It was the first time I drove without an adult in the car. T’was just me and my friends in my old Prussian blue Toyota corolla. Parang it set off the odometer of my life on the road.
    
    
21. I think we were on our fourth year when our music teacher, Mrs. Datu, taught us classical music. Her idea of teaching us culture involved making us listen to various classical standards, teaching us its name and composer, making us record it on our tape recorders, and asking us to memorize them.
    
    Syempre, sa dinami-dami non, at sa kaikli-ikli ng quarter at period namin, excerpts lang ng mga classical pieces ang nakikilala namin. At may oral exam kame! Not all of us could play instruments of course, so that meant we had to ‘sing’ those classical pieces to our teacher. You’d hear us reviewing before the exam somewhat to this effect…
    
    “Taaa-naaa-naan. Tana-nanan-nanananan. Taran-taran-tan-tararantan. Taarararan-tararan- tararan- Pararara-rararara-rarararam – Parararararararam!
    
    That was Little Fugue in G Minor by Johann Sebastian Bach.” Sosyal!
    
    
22. High school kami nung ma-inaugurate ang Enchanted Kingdom. It was instantly the holy grail of all gimmicks. May kung ilan beses ata akong pumunta don kasama ang kung ilang group permutations ng classmates ko.
    
    In one instance, sobra kong na-freak out dun sa mga nag-iikutang clowns (I used to find them really scary).
    
    Buti na lang, there was the wonderful fireworks to make it all up. Tapos, kasabay pa niyang mag-fe-fade up yung theme music ng EK (Everyday, everyday, everyday, the magic is here…). Nakakapangilabot! Parang pelikula. Sobrang novel pa kasi ng fireworks ng EK noon. Ang nakasanayan ko kasing fireworks prior to seeing those colorful formations in the sky, baby-rocket at labintador.
    
    
23. We had swimming classes nung third or fourth year ata. I don’t remember learning much dahil marunong na naman talaga ako mag-langoy. What I remember though is that it was our last class on Thursdays, that the boys’ lessons were done on a separate day as the girls, and that after each lap, we had to do ‘bubbles-up-and-down’ which meant you inhale above the water and exhale underwater. At saka I suffered cramps a lot.
    
    Nung isang beses, dahil ayaw kong ipa-alam sa classmates ko na may cramps ako, nagpaiwan ako sa may locker room. I abstained from our customary after-class tambay sa canteen dahil hindi ako makalakad. Finally, after everyone had gone, inunti-unti ko. E yung pool pa naman, nasa kasuluk-sulukan, kalayu-layuang bahagi ng Zobel. Every step was agony! As in, ang bagal ko nang maglakad, masakit pa rin. I couldn’t bend my legs, and I couldn’t sit and rest either. Mangiyak-ngiyak talaga ko. At pag may nakakasalubong akong kakilala, I force a smile pa to hide my suffering. How tragic.
    
    Dismissal namin was 4.10 PM. Nakarating ata ako sa Gate 3, 5 thirty na ata ng hapon.
    
    
24. The first college entrance exam I took was the UPCAT. Sa takot kong ma-traffic, ma-late at mapunta sa pinakadulo ng pila, I left my house Muntinlupa for QC at 3AM.
    
    Well, naiwasan ko nga ang traffic, at di ako na-late. Alas-kwatro pa lang, nasa Business Ad building na ko… I was the very first aspiring Isko there...
    
    
25. Sabi ko kay Ka Tams (my driver), gisingin na lang ako. Tutulog muna ako.
    
    Nang gisingin ako ni Ka Tams, it was already 6.30AM. Pag-bangon ko sa reclined passenger’s seat, parang may isang milyong tao na na nakapila at nagkakagulo sa may Business Ad. In other words, yung exaj kong punctuality, na bale-wala.
    
    During the exam itself, nagka-aberya pa. May booklet silang hinand-out which served as the questionnaire. May code yon sa harap na dapat e kokopyahin sa answer sheet. E in the middle of the exam, I found out that one of the pages of my questionnaire was blank. Kinailangan kong papalitan. The proctor gave me a new questionnaire, and reminded me to also change the code I copied onto my answer sheet.
    
    Because I was already wasting precious minutes, I forgot to change the code in my answer sheet. Nang ma-realize ko yon, nakalabas na ko ng exam room!
    
    
26. Isang beses, bumisita sa class namin yung vice principal (VP). He excused me and Paul so he can talk to us. Natakot ako. Kasi, the VP is almost synonymous to VR – violation reports. Akala ko may ginawa akong masama. Pero kasama ko yung valedictorian, so medyo nakampante ako.
    
    Yun pala, he was nominating both of us to the search for Muntinlupa’s Ten Outstanding Students (MOST). I was surprised kung bakit ako. I thought, ba’t hindi si Paul at yung candidate for Salutatorian. Kailangan pala kasi, resident ng Muntinlupa City. E yung ibang in the running para sa top 10 ng batch, lahat nakatira sa Las Piñas o Parañaque. So no choice pala yung VP. Kala ko pa naman… Oh well.
    
    Anyway, we had to fill out a form asking us about school achievements, extra-curricular activites and community involvements. (Syempre, kulelat ako don). Then, we took an IQ test (feeling ko naman, bumawi ako dito). Then, one weekend, we were asked to go to the Muntinlupa City Hall for a panel interview which was followed by a the showcasing of our talents. It was the closest thing to a coed beauty pageant.
    
    Sobrang competitive. Kasi naman, every school in Muntinlupa had to send two candidates, at sampu lang ang mapipili. The year before pa daw, both of Zobel’s candidates made it to the Top 10. Talk about pressure.
    
    Okay yung panel interview ko (ang alam ko, yun ang pinaka okay). Pero nung dumating ang talent part, di pa ko solve sa gagawin ko. I already decided na kakanta na lang ako. Kung anong kanta, di pa ako sure. Pang contest kasi lahat ng minus one na nahanap ko – pang birit performances! I decided to go with “Sometimes When We Touch” by Dan Hill, pero yung male version lang, hindi duet.
    
    Kanta kanta ako. Okay naman. Patok sa ibang judges (kahit sigurado akong ilang kandidato na ang nakakanta by then). Nang malapit na yung mataas na part, natakot ako. Huminga ako ng sobrang lalim para bumuwelo for the bridge part, pero dahil sa kaba, imbis na birit ng “At times I’d like to break you, and drive you to your knees…,” ang lumabas sa bibig ko ay, “Thank you.” Para kong tanga.
    
    By the end of that day, they announced the top 10 den. Reverse order, from 10 up. Kinabahan ako. Umabot na kasi ng 5, wala pa ko. Yun pala, 4 naman ako. Si Paul, top 3. Buti na lang… Kahit papano, naibsan ang kahihiyan ko sa pagbirit ng “thank you.”
    
    
27. Isa sa anticipated events in our high school ay ang mga Recollections at Retreats. And during those activities, isa sa pinakaabangan pa ulit ay ang mga exchange of Palanca Letters at Open Forum, kung saan nagtutuos ang mga magkaka-away at naglalabasan ng mga matagal nang kinkimkim na sama ng loob sa isa’t isa.
    
    Pinaka-special siyempre yung fourth year retreat. Kase huling taon na sa high school. Tuloy, kahit wala sa program, pinilit ng powers that be in our class na magkaroon ng open forum noon. E humigit 40 ata kami sa class. Madaling araw na, hindi pa tapos, at antok antok na ang lahat. But they were all determined to give everyone their turn in the hot seat.
    
    Ako, di ko na talaga natiis. Bumalik na ko sa room ko at natulog even before my turn came. Ako lang ang hindi na-hot seat, refreshed pa ako nung umaga.
    
    
28. Music class ulit, fourth year. Graduating na kami. In an effort to make it more personal for us, Mrs. Datu wanted us to compose our graduating song instead of just adopting a pop song. She divided each class in our batch into smaller groups, and each group had to come up with its original composition. I remember being teamed up with this eclectic classmate of mine, si Laida. She was generally known for being wild, hehehe… Artist type kasi, may banda pa siya with the other rocker types of our batch. Also in my group was John Rae, the class’s designated male balladeer. Kaya naman the class was expecting our group to do really well in that activity. But no, morning na of the day we’re to perform our song, wala pa kaming nagagawa.
    
    We ended up singing Laida’s lyrics, music supplied by our charitable classmate Rochelle na kahit part ng ibang group e naawa na at tinulungan kame. It was a nice, catchy song… with wonderful metaphors which can be best summed up this way:
    
    Wherever we end up being planted in college, we’re bound to bloom…
    
    We’re all destined for greatness, whether we be “green or gold flowers… maroon or blue flowers…”
    
    Ang aming eager na classmates, tinawanan lang ang much-anticipated performance namin.
    
    
29. When graduation time came, siyempre umuwi mommy ko. She was really proud of me. She attended the graduation with some of the relatives. They took our old car going to Zobel, while she allowed me to drive myself there. It was, I guess, her way of saying na, “Oo, malaki ka na.”
    
    Hindi pa time noon para abutan ng rolled up white paper ang lahat ng graduates, pumunta na ko at ang ilan sa classmates ko sa side ng stage. My mom didn’t know what was happening. Up until the moment I was called to receive a medal for graduating with honors, hindi niya alam na I was graduating top 7 in the batch. I didn’t intend it to be so, but it served as my surprise to her. At talaga namang na-sorpresa sya.
    
    Pag uwi namin for lunch, may surprise din pala sya sa kin. She bought me my first car – Herb, my green Rav 4.
    
    
30. Bukod sa UPCAT being the first entrance exam we took, UP rin ang pinaka-unang naglabas ng results.
    
    One of my classmates had a brother who studied in UP. Syempre, lahat kami, excited at takot malaman ang results. Out of the goodness of that classmate’s heart, she asked her brother to look up all our names to see if we made it in UP. Not everyone intended to study in the country’s premiere state university, but everyone wanted to pass. It would’ve meant that they’re at least secured of a university already, in case they failed the other entrance exams.
    
    My classmate relayed the good news to our classmates who made it to UP. At sabi niya, wala daw yung pangalan ko.
    
    Until that time, I was actually more inclined to go to La Salle Taft because most of my closest friends were planning to go there. But when I was told that I didn’t make it to UP, saka ko na-realize that it was actually where I wanted to go.
    
    Needless to say, I was depressed. Memories of the questionnaire incident haunted me. Baka yun ang dahilan. Hindi naman siguro dahil I wasn’t good enough for UP. And yet, kung yun nga ang dahilan, nakakainis naman na I was rejected because of a stupid reason like that. Kung ano-anong inisip ko to make myself feel better.
    
    I forget kung kailan eventually dumating ang letter ko from UP. But it was thick. When I opened it… pasado naman pala ako.
    
    I ended up taking Broadcast Communication in UP Diliman. And I’m mighty glad I did.

If asked to choose which I enjoyed more between high school and college, I’d probably choose the latter. But after all that, ang saya rin nga naman pala ng high school. And that’s not even the end of it.