Rest, Manong!

I first met Manong Gilbert Perez while working on the script of the Piolo-Regine movie. Carmi, Van and I were co-writing with Emman to flesh out a story he conceptualized. I liked working with Manong, and truth be told, I was kind of awestruck whenever we met with him. His reputation precedes him. Besides, it felt to me like a huge privilege to work with an established director like him while I was just breaking into the movie industry.

Manong was quite easy to work with, though the whole process wasn't exactly devoid of bumps. In the end, that script was passed over for another story. Eventually, our team was dropped from that project altogether. About a year or so later, the Piolo-Regine project became "Paano Kita Iibigin."

The next time I met Manong was when I was brought in to help out in "Supah Papalicious." While our previous encounter sailed smoothly enough, writing for this movie was more turbulent. Coming in late in the project, smack in the middle of production, my participation was naturally wrought with problems, creative and otherwise. It culminated in a rather painful misunderstanding. The worst part of it was that though it involved me and Manong, it didn't really happen between us. Suffice it to say that he felt bad about things I did, and I felt bad about how he reacted, but we never discussed it between us. It was a huge issue for me, but the other people involved in the Vhong-Makisig movie thought that it wasn't as big as I'm imagining it to be. Maybe that truly was the case. Manong, after all, is known to be as temperamental as he was talented. Perhaps its the Catholic virtue of guilt nagging at me, but I still hoped to eventually get the chance to talk to him.

Today, I learned that Manong has passed away a few nights ago.

I feel bad that I was never given the chance to clear things with him. To tell him that despite the unfortunate circumstances, I still deem it a privilege to work have worked with him.


In his passing, he joins Galo Ador, Jr., another genius of a writer with whom I wrote Agent X44. Another loss in ABS's roster of talents.

















Rest in peace, Manong!

Springtime In London

A very close friend of mine recently emailed to our barkada egroup to say that she's safely arrived in Perth and is well on her way to starting her post-grad studies. Like me, she was a bit rushed into her move to Australia. Unlike me, however, she's had this trip planned months ahead. As I've said before, my plan to go to London to study did not take proper shape until three weeks before the start of the summer term at the LFS. Jean was rushed because she just underwent an operation and had only three weeks to rest and recuperate before she finally flew to the land down under.

I was encouraged by Jean's email to finally write about my great London adventure. I've been itching to compose a journal of my experiences here but never really got around to doing it. Firstly because I've been really busy with school. The LFS's twelve-week terms (semesters if sa Peyups) is considerably more brisk than the pace I'm accustomed. Secondly, I'm still sort of adjusting to my new lifestyle. Last and most notably, I don't really know how to go about recounting my story thus far.

Jean and I, we're obviously on the same boat, so I know how tough and exciting and sad it can be. Based on her stories, I realize London's not far different from Perth. Jean complains about the cold weather there right now. When I arrived in London, it was spring about to turn to summer. I too was jolted by the temperature. When I was de-planing, I had my thick parka hanging on to my camera case (which, together with my usual red travel luggage, consisted my hand carry stuff) and the Chinese flight attendant told me to put it on because it was 10 degrees outside (Celsius, evidently). It was that cold the evening I arrived, but the next few days, I was lucky to experience a good run of bright, warm, sunny days.

I was excited to be in London for the first time. Every minute I spent there thrilled me more. At the arrival hall waiting for me was Nep, my guardian angel here in the UK. It was such a great, comforting feeling to see a familiar face after a 16-hour flight. It was even more special since it's been more than two years since we last saw each other. Though we were great friends in college, we didn't manage to keep in touch as much as we wanted to, and before I knew it, she's relocated to the UK to study.

Nep and I took the tube from Heathrow to the station near what was to be my home in London. That station was Paddington, which sounds familiar as it is where one can find the famous Platform 9 and 3-quarters. I made a quick stop at a Sainsbury, which like Tesco, M&S, and Waitrose, is a chain of supermarkets/convenience stores you find everywhere here, as ubiquitous as the 7-11's, Ministops, SM Hypermarts, and Rustan Fresh Supermarkets back home. I make an effort to note this because these stores were to be credited for my continued survival in the coming weeks, thanks to their microwaveable, on-the-go meals. We then hopped on one of those famous black London cabs and was soon settling into my new flat (pictures in my previous entry "Of Flats, Filipinos & Friends"). Nep was kind enough to give me a house-warming-cum-welcome gift - a new set of beddings. She helped me put on my new sheets and left soon after cause had work the next day.

And then I was alone.

After all that exciting flurry, the reality of what my life in London was going to be took form. Cold, cramped, lonely.

I woke up at 7AM the following day cause I wanted to have enough time searching through the streets of Central London for my school. It was already May 1 by then, which meant that I was already a few days late for my school's summer term. Classes started on April 28, the Monday before. See, all my previous attempts to get help from the school's admin for assistance prior to my departure yielded nothing. As such, I had no idea how to get to my school exactly. I don't think they even knew I was coming that day, or if I was coming at all. I could only rely on an address and my Moleskine city journal's London map.

Luckily, LFS was just one bus ride away. I got there at 9PM, a full hour before our classes were to start. I was buzzed in by the front house manager and was soon talking to our School Secretary. She handed me the school's handbook, told me about an out-of-school class later that afternoon, and then she introduced me to the other members of my term. That consisted my official welcome.

There were 14 people in our term. I was the fifteenth (and one week later, another student joined us). They were mostly Westerners, so it was quite intimidating to be coming in this late. Had this happened at the beginning of the term, when we were all newcomers and were thus on the same footing, I wouldn't have felt that awkward. Coming in late meant that they already knew each other and worse, they've already started forming their little cliques. God knows what a challenge it is to anyone, penetrating those damn cliques. Suddenly, it felt like kindergarten all over again.

So that went on for a few weeks. I truly hated it, being the only southeast Asian in the group. Not knowing, seeing any Filipino in school. Having to endure not being called during attendance because I was too embarrassed to call attention to myself. I didn't eat and sleep enough, and I didn't have friends and family to talk to at least. Worst, I was well too aware of the things I had to give up just so I can be miserable and cold halfway around the world.

It all got sorted out in the end of course. I now revel in being the only southeast Asian in the group. I think I even enjoy being the only Filipino most people in LFS know. And yes, I'm now listed in every professor's attendance list. I eat normally now and no longer crave for 12 hours of sleep. I'm friends with all my batchmates and the old, reliable ones I have back home are just a phone call away. The truth is, it's not really as bad as I make it sound. For one, I could've arrived here in winter and that would've frozen not only my confidence but my balls as well. But it truly was a struggle to get to the contented, fulfilled state I'm in right now. Maybe it's tied to the seasons? It is summer now, after all. Perhaps things had to take its natural course. I guess it was unreasonable for me to expect things to just fall into place. Like the chilly spring that needed a little getting used to, I warmed up to the people, the city, and my new life. And like the weather, it eventually warmed up to me.