26 September 2005

on to the next chapter

Since I won't be here to give Carla a proper send-off before she flies off to Canada, let me do it by way of this blog.

Good luck, Carla! Although we got off on a somewhat rocky start, I'm thankful that we were able to move past that and get to know each other better. You're one of the most thoughtful, vibrant people I know. Here's to all the happiness in the next chapter of your life -- you deserve it. Cheers to you, Jay-Ar, and Sophia! c",) Mark G. will surely miss one-half of his Silly Girls! (On a side note, shyeeeet, do you realize Euge made us pose like this in front of all our customers?!?!? Haha, nagpauto naman tayo.)

intramuros: the walled city

For someone who goes to even the lamest tourist spots when abroad, I have never really explored Intramuros. So, when my Toronto colleagues visited us, I finally got the perfect opportunity to do so.

We took a walking tour called If These Walls Could Talk, which I had discovered while blog-hopping. Carlos Celdran, our tour guide, was quite a sight. He took us around the city within walls like the Pied Piper of Intramuros, clad in a barong and playing songs reminiscent of the historic period on a small radio. A messenger bag filled with pictures and whatnots hung on one shoulder, with a speaker wrapped around his waist and a microphone taped to his face. But even more interesting were the stories he recounted and the animated way with which he told them.

The tour started at Fort Santiago, where we heard about a prehistoric Manila and how Spain conquered it; learned about how Jose Rizal was the 'it' guy, even if he was actually just as tall (or rather, as short) as President GMA, and saw the spinal column of Jose Rizal with a bullet lodged in it. Next was a calesa ride around Intramuros, which took us to the 400-year old San Agustin church and convent. Here we looked for turtles in a pond, visited tombs, and learned more about the Spanish, Japanese, & American colonization. Lest you be discouraged about having to hear about Philippine history again, I tell you -- this was not boring at all. Carlos was such an excellent storyteller that a group of priests doing the rounds in Father Blanco's Garden decided to stop and watch him, cheefully waving to us as Carlos announced "The Church was our enemy!" Haha. History lesson done, we then traipsed over to Casa Manila to take a peek into the extravagant lifestyles of the Filipino elite of the era. They threw their poop out on the streets. Nice.

Owen, me, Rose, and Michael at Father Blanco's Garden.

Binondo Church. This wasn't part of the tour, but Sweetie Pao, being a
Chinese mestizo (bwahaha!), kindly offered to tour us around Chinatown.

Busy, busy Chinatown. That's Sweetie Pao, Owen, and Michael
in the middle of the street.

21 September 2005

there's no reason to complain

I am exhausted, for all the wrong reasons.

The night bore a sadness that floated heavily in the air. Perhaps it was the rain that patterred on the windows of my car or faint glow of the lamps in the hazy darkness of rain. The road was filled with cars, people on their way to the rest of their lives.

And then a child, not more than six years of age, started tapping on my window, holding out a bunch of sampaguitas. He was drenched, his bare feet covered with mud. "Sige na po, ate, pangkain ko lang po."

I didn't want any sampaguitas, so I just gave him a twenty peso bill I found crumpled up in my purse.

"Salamat ate."

I had never heard such a heartfelt thanks as the one that came from that child... for a twenty-peso bill that would normally have gone to something useless like toll or parking.

Suddenly, I felt like crying.

Here I was on a way to a dinner, where I would indulge gluttonously in a buffet when I was not even hungry. Here I was complaining that my work was messing up my schedule, when this child had to sell sampaguitas in the night to get his next meal. Here I was complaining that I did not get enough sleep, when this child probably did not even have a proper bed to sleep on.

I am angry, because I was lucky and this child was not. My life and my future has been handed to me on a silver platter. Sometimes I complain about not having enough, when so many people could have a better life if only they had even one fourth of what I have been blessed with.

I am angry, because the world is unfair, and I am part of it. Because much has been given to me, and I deserve none of it.

20 September 2005

second childhood

"Arcade tayo!"

I scrunched up my nose snobbishly. What would a bunch of twenty-somethings do at Timezone? Besides, why would you pay so much for a game you could play at home on your Playstation? (Or your Family Computer (teehee) or whatever you have at home.)

Being the sophisticate I am, I opted to join my friends just for dinner. However, work kept me late in the office and dinner was over by the time I arrived. I found myself wandering through the psychedelic maze of arcade games and other machines, coolly eyeing Timezone with an uninterested air.

And then I couldn't resist anymore.

The pull of air hockey and foosball was too much. A minute later I was jumping up and down and squealing with delight, all traces of poise gone.


14 September 2005


I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You
Colin Hay

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that's far away
And when I'm done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say

I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was a hundred and two
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

I'm no longer moved to drink strong whisky
'Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

Your face it dances and it haunts me
Your laughter's still ringing in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years

But I don't want you thinking I don't get asked to dinner
'Cause I'm here to say that I sometimes do
Even though I may soon feel the touch of love
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

If I lived till I was a hundred and two
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

Love. Passion. Obsession. It's all those things that everyone searches for, but few ever find.

I was lucky enough to find you.

Don't stop to pity me. I don't want you back. I miss you, but I don't want you back. What I really miss is who I was when I was with you. Before you, I was living, but I was never alive.

I'm not over you. If that was what living should feel like, I'll never be over you.

But we've had our moment, and that is enough.

13 September 2005


Luis, our Costa Rican colleague, wanted to experience Filipino culture. When Karen said we were going to Intramuros, I had visions of quietly strolling along the cobble-stoned streets under a starlit sky.

Of course, the fact that Karen organized it should have been a warning sign. The rows of girls whipping out their compacts in the washroom gave me an inkling that it wouldn't be just a casual stroll. But when Karen came out of the washroom in costume change #1 (ready to show her, erm... signature dance moves), all my visions of Intramuros quickly popped into thin air.

And what a Filipino culture Luis got.

luis, our centerpiece! (hehe, rhyming!)

We ended up somewhere in Malate watching a group of flaming gays called The Raging Divas parading around in spandex, wigs and high heels. Que horror! Don't get me wrong -- I have nothing against gays, but they were scary. Luis started running for the washroom every time one of the divas ventured near him.

After feeling a bit ripped-off for a glass of watered-down Sprite, I did get my Mastercard moment eventually. Comic Lab entrance fee: One hundred pesos. A glass of Sprite: 70 pesos. Watching Drei get Virgo-ed* by one of the Raging Divas: Priceless.

Oh, and on a sidenote, Luis told me that I actually do look like a Latina. Pout. I don't want to look like a Latina, I want to look like Angelina Jolie!

* virgo (vur-go) 1. n. the sixth sign of the Zodiac in astrology 2. v. past tense of virgin 3. n. what happened to Drei in Comic Lab.

03 September 2005

bakit sm foodcourt model si gary?

Because Gary can pose for loooong periods of time.

See Exhibit A:
Ang dami nang nangyari sa background, hindi pa rin gumagalaw si Gary!
Kahit facial expression hindi nag-iba! Bwahaha.