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!

The Cruelty of Writing Part 1: Turning Tables

Up until the morning of April 28, Monday last week, I wasn’t sure if my plan to go overseas was pushing through. I was initially intending to leave earlier, but all the effort I put in informing Star about my schedule so we could accommodate both my personal plans and the production timetable for the John-Lloyd-Sarah project was rendered futile (and quite expected, really).

Since September of last year when I submitted the third draft of this script and its development eventually put on hold, I’ve been asking for the management’s feedback so I could start working on the new draft. When the project was yet again greenlighted in March, I already had plans to leave for Europe. I told them about that, trying my best not to sigh in frustration and ask why they’re only making me work on the revisions now, six months after I submitted the last draft. When we had our feedback meeting, it was almost a little over a full month from April 28. I was hoping to write more than one draft so no more significant revisions would be required. Despite the little time we had left, all sorts of delays came to play, including more than 2 weeks of our time wasted on developing an entirely new story which was ultimately chucked for my old one. In the end, I was given only two weeks to write one new draft.

Naturally, the writing got in the way of my preparations for my trip. I guess it was wishful thinking on my part for my bosses and colleagues to take that into consideration. I had to juggle writing and running last-minute errands like shopping for supplies, settling my personal accounts like my home cable, mobile phone, and internet.

I finally submitted the fourth draft of that script on Saturday, April 26. (One good thing that came out of all the setbacks was it allowed me to attend my good friend Duke’s wedding in Batulao/Tagaytay.)

People in the office wanted to meet with me the following Tuesday, April 29, so I can personally hear from them the management’s feedback on that fourth draft. I told them I’d try my best to make it, but it was unlikely that I’d make it.

By Monday evening, I told them that it was really not possible for me to go to Star anymore. They asked why, and I texted that it was because I was scheduled to fly out of Manila then. The following day, Tuesday, I managed to have my flight moved to Wednesday morning instead. I told Star about this, but also said that despite the change in schedule, I still won’t be able to meet with them since I’ll be needing the free time to fix things for my departure. They called me that same day to ask if I could instead write my “vision” and “theme” for the script so they could use it for the Creative Meeting on Friday. I explained it to them over the phone, but they still insisted that I write “in my own words” what my vision and theme was.

Now let me just say that I don’t really know what else I have to do to spell out what my vision for the story is. I don’t discount that I may not be successful in making the script reflect our intentions, but that’s a different matter all together. But to ask me for my ‘vision’ and ‘theme’? How insulting is that!? (And as one friend of mine pointed out, how lazy!) The script has been submitted for their perusal. At the very first page of this new draft, I even intro’d the script with a statement of its theme, a blurb of sorts, stating what I intended to be the movie’s theme. And need I mention that we’ve been meeting and discussing this project since last year? Haven’t we discussed the characters, the story, the theme, and the intentions in so many words? Then again, I guess insulting the writer is something they don’t really care about.

The worst part about this whole incident is I wasn’t able to submit this “vision-slash-theme” by Friday. I landed on Heathrow Wednesday evening, and the following day, I already attended classes. I hadn’t settled in properly. I didn’t have my own phone line yet, so I only relied on my roaming. I received a call from Star but I was commuting at that time and didn’t realized it was them until I got home. Besides, I was already refraining from using my roaming cause I’m close to exceeding my phone account’s credit limit. If I got my account frozen, I’d be helpless out here. I eventually got my phone’s WAP working and checked my email from there. I saw an email from Star asking how I was and reminding me of the “vision” I owed them. It was already past the deadline by then, so all I was able to do was apologize and explain why I couldn’t submit it on time.

I’ve been feeling guilty about my failure to submit that “vision” and “theme.” Yet as if self-flagellation wasn’t enough, I got this email from Star saying they understand my situation, but at the same time said that my failure to submit my “vision” had “a lot of repercussions on the project timetable.” They reminded me that we still needed to grind by May 8. Because of that, I’d have to settle once and for all whether I can still commit to doing the revisions from where I am now and correspond via email, or if I’d consent to bringing in a new writer to the project. They even gave an ultimatum: If they did not hear from me by Sunday, 11PM Manila, they’d be forced to bring in a new writer. All those were boldfaced, italicized and underlined – now if that wasn’t a threat, I don’t know what is.

I only got to read that email Sunday, 9PM UK time. That was 4AM, Manila time.

I swear, this job of writing for movies (for Star? I don’t really know how much I can generalize) can be really cruel.

That evening before I left, I already brought up the issue of bringing a new writer. I volunteered to discuss it with them since their calls were usually only about the deadlines. Since I anticipated that my hectic schedule, the distance, time difference, and practical difficulty of my situation could possibly compromise my commitments to the project, I told them that even if I don’t want to, I know that it would be more convenient for the project to bring in a new writer.

Of course, I expressed my apprehension despite indirectly agreeing to that recourse. After all, this material, this story, this script, has been mine entirely. I researched it, pitched, developed, wrote the script, reworked the story, re-researched, rewrote the script, got it approved… all by myself. I got little to no help doing all that – of couse, by this, I don’t mean to discount the help from our director, the CA and my boss – I say this in the context of not having any co-writer. But yeah, no help in all four drafts of the script that got us to this stage when the management has finally committed to making the movie. And again, I stress that even when the project was put on hold in September last year, I insisted on getting the feedback from the management so I could start revising it, or at least mull over how I’d go about doing that. I think it’s just natural and justified that I expect and hope to retain ownership after all that.

However, I’m now left with no choice but to relinquish the fruit of my labor. Not only that. Despite trying my best to be worth my salt writing for this and all the other movie projects I’ve been involved with, it now seems like it’s my own fault!

And here I thought my effort in avoiding this situation would prevent the tables from getting turned on me. I thought wrong. What makes it more depressing is this would’ve been a milestone for me as it was to be my first solo credit. Still, I’ve been easing myself into foregoing that career high point for later. Especially since recently, my boss unabashedly declared sans apology that writers are usually the first casualties in binds like this. I suppose it was foolish to expect my concern to take precedence over other concerns in the project. Plus I do admit to having my share of deficiencies. But to be made to feel like I screwed myself over is just going too far. After all the diligence and dedication I invested in my work and this project in particular, this is what I get?

How’s that for cruelty.

Labor Day Weekend At Masbate

The weekend before the Labor Day celebration, Karmela, Chrissie and I flew to Masbate to do a little R&R. When I said yes to joining this vacation with my Law School blockmates, I wasn't quite sure I'll be free. I decided to risk it because it was to be my first trip with them, the CCs (Cosmic Comrades. Don't ask). Plus I was really desperate to make the most of the summer season. I did go to Boracay last April prior to this particular trip, but that was far from relaxing. Truth be told, most of the vacations I take are not. That's why this particular out-of-towner was a stand out. It was a much welcome breather from the stress of work. I've been praying for a break these past few months cause I haven't really had one since the onslaught that was "You Got Me!," and already, I'm working on a new project. I do know how to count my blessings so I'm not really complaining. Work in Star Cinema is hard to come by, and I know better than to act up when blessed with an opportunity to write.

We flew in Saturday morning, April 28, via Asian Spirit. After landing on Masbate soil, Karmela took us to Jollibee for quick mid-morning snacks, then we did some last minute shopping. We then took a trike to the wharf where her parents were waiting for us in their private pump boat. We sailed for about an hour and finally arrived at the Franco's provincial rest house. It's situated on a beach in Baranggay Titong, Masbate City (I think. Kar, you'll have to correct me on the city, hehe...).

It was such a beautiful house. Just a few steps away from the sea. Kar's Mom said that when the tide is high, the water could even lap the house's front wall. After setting camp in the guest room, we proceeded to the terrace (which they referred to as the 'balkon') and spent the time waiting for lunch to be served by playing with the Francos' Boston Terriers, Chessy and Blackie. That was to be our routine for the next few days. We would wake up, feast on cuisines prepared by Kar's parents and relatives, watch a DVD (among those I got to watch/rewatch: "28 Days Later," "Shaun Of The Dead," "A Scanner Darkly," "Chungking Express"), hang out, sleep again, wake up again, read, hang out, have dinner. I didn't mention breakfast cause I managed to oversleep every day and wake up just in time for lunch.

The following day, Sunday, we got to watch the locals engage in what seemed to be a favorite past time. Sabong (cockfighting). It was such a crude setup. They didn't even have a formal cockpit for the roosters. The men who had money betting on the clashing poultry formed a circle around them and served as cockpit boundaries. Kar's dad even bet on a few roosters and won.

Later that afternoon, the three of us took to the beach for the first time. We got Kar's inflatable raft and tested our rowing skills. Chrissie and I hogged the raft that first day, while Kar enjoyed swimming with her cousin Ai-Ai, who also served as our tourist guide. There was also a bamboo raft with make shift benches and nipa roofing propped on it. When we got tired from rowing against the oncoming waves, we stationed on that bamboo raft and bathed in the sun. Later, upon my return in Manila, I found out from my doctor that I wasn't supposed to do anything physical a week after my operation. I just had a tonsilectomy so my throat was not in tiptop condition yet. That still didn't stop me from enjoying our stay there. In fact, I managed to munch on a local treat they called "molido." It's a sweet pastry-like thing that reminded me of nougat. Other than that, however, mine was a diet of soup, pancit bihon, and vanilla ice cream.

After showering, the three of us lolled in the balkon, watching the locals enjoy the lazy Sunday afternoon. Kids frolicked on the sand as the women and the teen-agers chatted while partaking of halo-halo bought from the small stand set up beside the Francos' house. The rest of the men who were not busy making meals out of the cockfights' casualties were still engaged in the sport.

Watching all that was very therapeutic. Everything was so simple. Looking around, everyone seemed so happy, here in this barrio which did not even have electricity and needed to tap into the Francos' generator in order a light bulb and a television set work. Kar, Chrissie and I had a ball just watching kids wrestle and tumble on the rough sand. I actually intended to make this a working vacation for me. I even brought my laptop with me. But that sweet moment, I thought, "To hell with my deadline." I decided to just soak up the idyllic Masbate atmosphere and leave the rest of the world behind.

The next day, Monday, I spent the afternoon reading on the bamboo raft while Karmela had a go on the inflatable raft with Chrissie. They actually did well, rowing much further to the open sea than Chrissie and I did the previous day. I think it was because Chrissie was more confident after having tried it with me that Sunday. That, or she just trusted Karkar more. Meanwhile, I managed to read more than two-thirds of "Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix." Karmela and Chrissie got back from rowing and we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon strolling along the countryside, with Ai-Ai leading the way.

Tuesday was Labor Day, the day we were to fly back to Manila. We all woke up early despite my not having enough sleep. I was up late finishing the rest of the fifth Harry Potter book. Karmela's parents joined us on the trip back. At the Masbate city proper, we ran into a Labor Day parade led by a militant party list group (Akbayan? Bayan Muna?) and heard roving cars announcing Ping Lacson's visit to the province later that afternoon. Then, at the airport, we managed to catch a glimpse of Kiko Pangilinan who was also just arriving for a campaign sortie. It was like after being detached for a good three days, we were being reminded that it was election season in the real world. And that quickly, I knew, we were back to the same stressful days from which I longed to be saved.

Thanks again, Karkar, for your family's warm hospitality! I really enjoyed myself in Masbate. Hiyas, too bad you weren't able to go with us. Below are our pictures from that trip. Enjoy! Hope we could do it again sometime :)

Lemonade, Anyone?

In my circle of friends, a lot has been said about my good friend Sherlyn's recent decision to relocate to Boracay.

I'm not really that sure about what prompted her to make that decision. When I tell of her story to other friends, I tell them it was actually I who felt the urge to relocate and lead a relatively gypcyan life. My contract with Star Cinema was to end last January. I was then still involved with "You Got Me!" which was to be released by the end of February. Though I was just a signature away from a 3-picture deal with Star, that still meant that starting March, I'd be without a day job, and off a monthly salary.

Since I've always wanted to gallivant all over the country (around the globe, if resources allowed it), I thought this was the best time for me to do so. However, it would've been irresponsible of me to just get up and leave without careful regard for my finances. So in trying to reconcile my bohemian urges and my sense of accountability, I hatched a plan to become a responsible drifter.

It was simple. I was to move to a particular locale, take up a job that was more transitory in nature, fly back to Manila for occasional meetings with Star Cinema, then move on to another place when I've had my fill. It didn't matter to me the kind of job I'd land. That was, in fact, what made the plan most alluring. The element of surprise. Each stop meant a chance to start on a clean slate, learn a new skill, get acquainted with a new place, and meet new people. I may have to part with certain luxuries staying in Manila would've guaranteed, like my house, my car, a potentially bigger salary... But in my head, this was me walking the talk. The uncertainty the end of my contract with Star Cinema brought ushered in the break to do something I've always longed to do. This was me making lemonade out of lemons.

I shared this inspired plan with Sherlyn, who was then taking haircutting classes from the Center of Aesthetic Arts. She immediately caught on and was soon conspiring in my grand plan. Her classes were to end in March, which meant she'd be a competent and qualified stylist by then. She would work in salons (as there's never a dearth of beauty centers wherever you go) while I worked as a waiter, a University instructor, a bell hop, an English tutor or whatever job opportunity was presented. Sherlyn thought this would be to her advantage anyway since struggling to be a stylist in Manila would've only relegated her to a junior stylists' job, with little opportunity to hone her skills in hair cutting. She upped her chances of actually cutting hair by going with me to the provinces. What, with her experience and education? On top of all that, we'd be together. We planned on sharing a room so we can split the rent. We thought about the adventures that lay ahead of us. We talked about how the hardships would be easier to bear, and the experiences more exciting, with a friend sharing the journey.

And so it was agreed.

Sherlyn asked a friend of hers who had an uncle working as a divemaster in Boracay to ask if there were any openings in a salon. She had almost forgotten about it when her friend broke to her news that his uncle had already found a job for her. Things happened so fast. By the end of March, Sherlyn was already making plans to relocate to Boracay for at least three months.

Meanwhile, I was stuck in Manila. I who deemed himself the progenitor of the idea in the first place. It wasn't as bad as it sounds. I was actually assigned to a new film project as part of my 3-picture contract, sooner than most fledging writers might expect. Of course I'm thankful for the opportunity to write again. Still, I'm somehow disappointed that my grand plan had to be postponed yet again, while Sherlyn is now in Boracay, carrying out the plan we dreamed up together.

Many of my friends dream of dropping everything and traveling aimlessly. And at least once, we all thought of just disappearing from our life and getting the chance to start anew. A writer-friend of mine told me once that it's particularly common among writers. Perhaps it's the desire for new, authentic experiences untarnished and unburdened by connections we keep and backgrounds we have. It's not as easy as one might think, as Sherlyn would attest. Sherlyn had thought of cutting her trip short after finding out she may have been hasty in her decision to work in Boracay. But she rallied on, and soon found that giving up would've been the easy way out. Now, everything's starting to work out for the better. She's found a new job and a new place in which to stay. She's earning a decent wage, and she's met new friends.

Sherlyn deserves a lot of credit for even trying this out, what more sticking to it? I just hope I'd have the courage to hold on resolutely when my turn to live out this dream comes.

You Got Me!

Star Cinema's post-Valentine presentation

Starring Toni Gonzaga and Sam Milby
And introducing Zanjoe Marudo

YOU GOT ME!

Directed by Cathy Garcia-Molina
Showing on February 28 in over 150 theatres nationwide


watch the trailer:

Love will catch you...
when you find the courage to fall.

Agent X44

Opening the year with a bang...
Star Cinema proudly brings
the dashingest debonair...
the sexiest spy...
the one and only...

AGENT X44

Starring Vhong Navarro
Directed by Bb. Joyce Bernal
Showing on January 17, 2007

Watch the full trailer:

Here is a music video featuring AGENT X44's stars:

Chickboy
Performed by Vhong Navarro

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!

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.

A Quarter Full

A year ago, I wrote this for an exercise in the scriptwriting workshop Star Cinema conducted. As co-facilitators, we were encouraged to participate. We were simply asked to write about what we're feeling, or to write about a time when we felt a particularly strong emotion.

Back then, this was me. A month short of the expriration of my contract with Star. A few weeks shy of my 25th birthday. Back then, the most interesting thing that I could say about myself (when asked for an introduction), was that I left law school to pursue a career in film. I was trying to make myself more passionate and courageous in a desperate attempt to prove I had character and could amount to something.

That was more than a year ago. Now, I'm still in Star Cinema. Still struggling to pursue a career in film. Still no script credited under my name. I'm tempted to say nothing's changed, and the worst part of that is I'd be telling the hard truth. Especially when I turn my head and see how my close friends have leap-frogged in their careers and are now boasting of fat salaries, promotions, and, heck, even love lives. The sad truth is the intangibles rarely count nowadays.

But I won't say that. Lots of things have changed. I've grown a lot, despite appearances. It's funny cause I can tell how badly I wanted to sound optimistic in what I wrote down there - and how I still came off sounding miserable. Reading this piece and seeing how different I feel now despite the seeming stagnation of my career proves all the more that it's all a matter of perspective. It proves once again that writing can indeed do wonders for one's growth.

Weather-weather lang yan... And I feel the storm has passed.

*****

A QUARTER FULL
7 November 2004

I am overwhelmed by a feeling that things can be better.

A few months back, I owned up to a premature Quarter-Life Crisis. Premature only because I was a year and a few months ahead (I was 23 then). Now, I realize I might have spoken too soon. Either I was misled into thinking that already WAS it, or the depression I'm in right now is just part and parcel of a protracted suffering many have recognized as intrinsic to one's passage to adulthood.

There is an email that speaks of this. The Quarter-Life Crisis – the restlessness, the sense of displacement, the fear of stagnation, the uncertainty of everything.

I remember first reading about it when I was still in college. Back then, I was just amused that the Gen X-ers have found a counterpart for the pentagenarian affliction. Years after, a close friend of mine sent the same email to all her twenty-something friends, including myself. The second time around, I read it with an eerie sense of tangibility. I thought, it must truly speak of a universal truth for not only am I able to relate to the article, my past encounter with it was proof of its application to those who came before me. It offered little comfort, but at the time, it was enough.

I'm now a month and a week away from being a quarter of a century old, and the restlessness remains. While the article was accurate in finding the words for what most people my age are feeling, stating the fact that there are others who suffer the same misery still fails to account for the feeling of desperation. The feeling of loneliness continues to overwhelm me. In the end, all it succeeds to do is to prove how desolate the world has become. At the end of the day, you have but your shadow to keep you company at the crossroads.

As I write this, I start feeling bad that I chose a dispiriting topic to write about. I was asked to write about a pivotal part of my life – and I chose to write of here and now, not necessarily the lowest I’ve sunk for it to constitute a cinematic enough conflict, rather a boring testimony of ennui. I know I’m capable of more optimism. I fancy myself good at providing clarity and direction to those who need it. The process is painful. More so when you’ve no one to turn to when in need of it yourself. While some mistake it for masochism, wallowing in all that despair, I dare say it’s the best form of self-preservation. I guess I needed to purge myself of the bleakness if I’m to write about sunnier things.

Looking inwards, I’m met by a disturbing emptiness. Twenty-five years old and with very little to show for it. Like I’m 75% void, 25% uncertainty.

But if half a loaf’s better than no bread, I guess a quarter full’s not bad.