now i know why it sucks to be in the philippines. no matter how much you work your ass off -- sweeping dirt off the floor, cutting vegetables into pieces, beating the smoke off the barbecue grill, washing dishes, receiving paragraphs of unnecessary reprimands and rarely a sentence of earned gratitude -- you still get, at the most, only P4000. and to think that in america, many households don't have help/nannies because of the cost and even those who are moneyed only hire one. in the philippines, even hiring 5 would not make too big a dent in one's salary. it sucks to be in the philippines.

i'm sorry to my friends who have always loved this country unconditionally. don't worry, if you decide to change ways in the future -- and would seriously consider leaving the philippines -- i'd understand. as the state of our nation is in itself unstable and unpromising, we can also be as unstable and unpromising. there are only two reasons why i'd still like to stay here (the rest say i can leave):

1. majority of my family is here. my lola is here. my parents are here. bienni is here. my home, my comfort, my security is here. and leaving would only mean one thing: breaking free. well, that's how people would see it. but to me, leaving would only mean wanting to discover what lies beyond the philippine shores, what lies beyond the tour packages that we always got ourselves in in our visits abroad, what lies beyond what we know of this world as shown in movies and in news channels. until i go, i will never know.

2. i would like to witness that ray of hope my favorite writer writes about. i would like to have butch dalisay as a teacher. i would love to meet natalia diaz and listen to her adventures. i would like to see in the flesh the performances of cynthia alexander, pinikpikan, updharmadown, sugarfree (again), eraserheads (i wish), acoustic bamboo, rivermaya and parokya ni edgar. i would like to be a part of that ray of hope. i just don't know how. in one show, a father said to his 22-year-old daughter, "you're just 22, how would you know what you really want?" so am i still in a safety net, being clueless at 21? or is it really the job of movies to say everything is okay when it is not?

"Your memory is a monster; you forget - it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you - and summons them to your recall with a will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!" by john irving

give me a boot for more book quotes 

storm large sang a very sad song two weeks ago in rockstar supernova. by sad, i don't mean a ballad wailing on and on about the death of a loved one or brokeheartedness (or you wish they're the same). by sad, i mean to say that it is a song that boasts of lyrics no woman should lay out in conversational mode with a man.

Okay, what is it tonight?
Please just tell me what the hell is wrong!
Do you wanna eat?
Do you wanna sleep?
Do you wanna drown?
Just settle down, settle down, settle down!
I'll give you candy, give you diamonds, give you pills
Give you anything you want
Hundred-dollar bills
I'll even let you watch the shows you wanna see
Because you'll marry me marry me marry me!

(anything, anything by by Something Corporate)

because it's meant to boost their ego. forgive me as i speak, but when things go rocky, should it always be the woman to smoothen it? is the task of a woman as one-half of a partnership to make everything okay? were women made more sensitive and emotional to realize that purpose?

here's something worst. though i enjoyed the acoustic version of this song, i never minded listening to the lyrics again.

Let Me Help You
Take Off Your Shoes
Untie Your Shoestrings
Take Off Your Cufflinks (Yeah)
What You Want To Eat Boo? (Yeah)
Let Me Feed You
Let Me Run Your Bathwater
Whatever You Desire, I'll Aspire
Sing You A Song
Turn The Game On
I'll Brush Your Hair
Help Put Your Do Rag On
Want A Foot Rub? (Yeah)
You Want A Manicure?
Baby I'm Yours I Want To Cater To You Boy

(Cater to you by Destiny's child)

Are women slaves? Many romantics might spite me (vera, are you reading?) for this but i'm just a clueless never been kissed victim who wants to lay out what i think should be the rules, dos, donts on loving, being loved, being in love. and if you smirk because you think i sound all-knowing, get out of here, this is my blog, did you forget? 

i'm doing it again. if mishka adams made me do it with jazz, rockstar supernova is making me do it with rock. and so far, everything's just been so neat. i'm not moving over to the other side of the fence and head bang on hard rock (i.e. metallica). i draw the line with the likes of the who, pink floyd, and it's great to know that you don't have to know how to head-bang to enjoy their music. because i will never, ever head-bang in my life. nodding, i tolerate. head-banging, invites migraine headaches.

speaking of which, i just had a bad one yesterday, after chowing down 3 pieces of deep-fried and sugared banana and 2 cups worth of ube, mango and chocolate ice cream in the afternoon and maple glazed spare ribs and chicken chops in the evening. actually, that's what i really look forward visiting ormoc for.

kidding. humbly speaking, for two weeks, i haven't had a full sick-to-my-guts stomach (except for melissa's party on the 29th of july when they served the seriously irresistable silvanas) so i guess my brain went on a surprise roller coaster ride when i just filled my stomach to the brim unannounced. i am so mean.

this morning, i had a slight head ache again after attempting to finish one can of salted/garlic peanuts. my body right now is like a helpless piece of anatomy that is subjected to a harsh bathing under the sun. the sun is sadly my mouth and its shine the food i take. make that foods. foodssssss. i'm the worst sinner when i'm with food. shame shame.

tonight, i'm going to my 2nd night out since college ended. the first was when we invited for a few drinks iana's korean visitor, but we went home before 12, making that not a real night out. and all through-out summer, i've just been a saturday bum while my sisters got drunk in the only bar here in ormoc. i don't know what made me want to bum but it felt great focusing my energy between the computer, my sister bienni, her cartoons, and my father's TIME back issues. it sounds so homey (a nicer term for homebody) but that made my fix for the summer. when i got back to cebu, i also haven't been able to go out. that's that.

so tonight, i'm going out with my sisters and a lot of her friends to the only bar here in ormoc and maybe get drunk. honestly, i forgot how that feels like. it's really been months since i last drank. i never thought of this but yes, sobriety does put you at ease and just chill. 

i'm downloading songs from my current favorite watch now, rockstar supernova. i never watched a single episode from rockstar inxs, so i'm guessing that this loyalty just grew out of my fanfare over the so-over american idol season 5. but as the weeks go, the glue that got me stuck on the all-rock show just got more sticky, especially that i'm eyeing specific favorites now. so i'm all out glued, and tight.

from the first episode, i liked storm large and jill joia. but jill's vocals that she always plays to the hilt is getting more annoying, it's like the only thing that she's got and nothing else. i hope she learned from the last episode though when the guys didn't favor her all-out performance of don't you forget about me (which, if i remember it right, is off the Breakfast Club OST). tommy lee had a point when he said it was the low vocals that gave the song more sexy points but she totally missed that point. there you go, jill. 

storm large is just getting larger for me (now i sound like an illegitimate music critic). she is so much fun. she could go hard rock (which i don't like) to slow rock (which i just love). i so, SO, so love her take on david bowie's changes (actually, it was the first time i heard the song). but taking back the point i just made on hard rock.. i did enjoy her first performance (which was hard) and her anything, anything performance (which was really hard) and her other performance whose title i forgot (the one that saw her in chun-li hair gear). she is just rockin' cool (grrr, i sound so, so, so like those rockin' blech).

if there's no storm large, i'd definitely root for dilana. for me, she's the only one that could claim the legitimate rocker tag. she's just a natural. i repeat, a natural. she can get away with anything -- even in heavy leather and (what seemed like) a thousand piercings all over her while singing the old favorite ballad time after time. and no, she did not turn ballad to sing that song; the song actually turn rock when she sang it. she delivers. she really does. and she's too nice for a rocker with tattoos and piercings all over. and i like nice.    

my first crush i have to say was ryan star; but it was only when he did losing my religion that he totally bowled me over. and you know how i'd go gaga (am i even allowed to use this word to refer to rockers?) over guys behind the piano (and a classic one at that). he nailed it for me. no, not the rockstar supernova title, but the song, the music, the evening. he was a star; even if only for that night.

the rest, more or less, are just decorations to my rockstar supernova mornings and evenings. i know it's an insult especially that i've left out other favorites such as lukas and magni, and even patrice and (for reasons i don't think i'd ever understand) zayra. but i just can't pick out a performance of theirs over the others. or is it my bad memory? all i remember vaguely is that lukas is a natural on stage and magni is a nice-looking guy. either they've been consistently wonderful on stage or have been consistently okay. they're just that: consistent. 

among those whom i have mentioned, only zayra (which by the way is interestingly pronounced as za-i-ra) doesn't know consistency. she bowls everyone with the one big surprise that she is. the problem is that: her consistency doesn't belong to such a stage. one thing i'm sure though, she can be the next bjork. weird and stand-out vocals.

okay, let's talk about josh logan (did i bring him up already?). i know he's reached the top 10 but i think he's lost. i like him but he's lost. and i like him because he insists on fusing what he calls soul to the hardrock music of supernova and that's good, because he knows what he wants and he's getting attention in trying to show what he wants. so kudos to that.

among all the rockstar shows (all five of them), my favorite was definitely the last one, with the santeria, baba o'riley, changes, losing my religion, clocks, performances. for me, dana nailed the who's baba o'riley song very well (or is it only because i haven't heard of it before?) and i'm truly saddened that it was also the performance that booted her out (must be the spa).

all in all, the show is really a rock music information sheet and a 15-week rock tribute. unlike in american idol wherein the singing wannabees choose their songs according to what mix well with their vocals, in rockstar, the rock wannabees choose their songs according to what the song means to their journey as a rock enthusiast. but that's just what i think. i don't know what they think. i just say and judge it by how i see them in their performances, the way they rock it out, no limits, no boundaries. it's all about rocking and nailing it. that's that.

for those who are still lost by the rockstar schedules, it shows in starworld on wednesdays (performances), 8:00 am 8:00 pm, and thursdays (decisions), 8:00 am and 8:00 pm. happy rocking!

there is something about coming home in ormoc that allows reaching out inside the fridge as the very first thing to attend to. even before i enter my mother's room and kiss her hello. even before i settle my travel bags in my sisters' room (note how i never claim it as my room).

reaching out inside the fridge is just the first thing that comes into my mind. probably because even before i can see the last of the cebu channel from my seat in the fast craft, i am reminded that there is never a time when the fridge in ormoc is empty, unlike in cebu, which is empty most of the time.

on a sadder note (yep, the habit of reaching out inside the fridge is a sad one; and is it even allowed to say out inside?; hai, all the grammar consciousness in the world and the complexity they bring forth)... on a sadder note, my hands reach out for the most colorful item parked inside the freezer. my soul would have been saved had it been the colors and texture and health content of bananas, watermelon, cantaloupe and apple. but no.

unknowingly (liar! liar! pants on fire!), i reach out for the nestle trio half-gallon ice cream, which is equally colorful and yummy (i beg to disagree: it is yummier!) but (but, but, BUT!) a thousand more calorie-ffic sinful. what more, unlike fruits when you know you've had enough, with ice cream, you know you've had enough but you refuse to believe you've had enough. it's a shame but then again, it's ice cream.

and i'm just a human with a weird love affair with anything fattening.

so there goes my story on how i found myself back in the arms of ormoc. well, actually, i'm not as excited seeing the horizon sketching the bay of ormoc little by little as seeing the new house my family has gotten used to calling our home. there is not a bleak moment in this home (well, except for the panic/attitude/temper attacks each of us has the tendency to succumb to). we are just a very human family after all. my honorary father is also a volcano. my loving mother can also be a cruella de ville. my ever-supportive sisters are also primadonnas. my angel bienni is also a bratz (and a bratz fanatic). and my big brother is also a boy. becca is a girl growing up and lost. and me, i'm only 130 lbs in physique and for show, but in my being gullible to almost anything, i'm merely a pounder. 

Your love is better than ice cream
Better than anything else that I've tried
And your love is better than ice cream
Everyone here know how to fight

And it's a long way down
It's a long way down
It's a long way down to the place
Where we started from

Your love is better than chocolate
Better than anything else that I've tried
Oh love is better than chocolate
Everyone here knows how to cry

It's a long way down
It's a long way down
It's a long way down to the place
Where we started from...

(See how ice cream should look like)

by sarah maclachlan

i think nobody's as stressed out about a call as i am. in short and long lapses during the day, i'd drift off and think what i could have said and done to assure myself of one. if this is not what the song killing me softly is all about, then i'm making my own lyrics to the same melody. it's killing me softly alright. or maybe this is just jitters expected of an unemployed and it's supposed to be normal. ok, let me just get my life going and my job hunting going until i wear out of killing me softlys and useless worries.

i read about faith everyday (in Companion and Kerygma) and the words vary each day although there's only one underlying idea: that we leave the course of our lives to Him (to God, to Jesus Christ, to the Lord). of course, that doesn't mean we just sit in our asses and not do anything. to make Him work in our lives, we also have to get moving. and that's what i'm going to do. maybe working at Club Ultima just sucks. (hehehe, sour grape)

on the brighter side, mother called yesterday evening at home and since i was out with vera, i missed it. she also wasn't able to contact me through my cellphone because vera was still using it. surprisingly, when i returned her call later around 10 pm, she wasn't pissed at all. hai... i wonder if they miss me back there in ormoc. they always said i'm the odd one in the family, but that's not synonymous to black sheep. i'm just odd. so i really wonder if they miss me back there in ormoc.

they better be. this morning, i fell into the clutches of my loneliness (again) and shed more tears. if i were to put it all in a bucket, i think i'd fill a couple of them. i have so many questions: who am i fooling? am i just fooling around? are all these just a big joke? let me rest in peace.

just a few seconds ago, i met up with my friend and old classmate cedric and he asked me about club ultima. i told him that i'm still mourning, that i'm still going crazy over what i could have done/said just to shutter all doubts about my qualifications, that i'm still asking questions everyday, that i'm still waiting. it's not a good thing. i think my sanity is becoming unhealthy. but lest you think it's a big threat, let me promise that on wednesday (august 2), a week-sary of my interview with the big boss, i'm going to let it go. i'll accept that i'm never getting the call and stop asking questions on what i could have done to make it all better. it's not losing faith. it's not losing hope. i could still get the call. i just have to make it clear that in a spectrum on how i feel about it: i am nearing hopelessness. but i have faith that from it, i'll stand and become a stronger job hunter. i have to be. i am here in cebu and i'm going to survive. 

i had a good sunday. my dearest friend vera whom i haven't seen for almost a month dropped by just before lunch and i ended up spending the rest of the day with her.

we had lunch.

we finished two movies: the interpreter, which i really have to watch again and give 100% of my focus to just so i'd finally understand it, and cellular, a kim basinger movie that really puts you at the edge of your sit.

went through the books at RSO (vera is a book lover as well).

heard mass at 6 pm.

ate at the foodcourt in robinson's.

and now, connecting with the the world.

the only time i got pissed off today (yep, i got pissed off on a good sunday, and this time, it's not because loneliness beat me again) was when it dawned on me that there were onions and tomatoes in my shawarma. and i don't like onions and tomatoes in my shawarma. so that shawarma place is a no-no for me already.

officially, i'm a length of time away from my schedule. you might be surprised why a bum has a schedule but just to remind you, i'm alive again in the pages of cebu daily news. originally, i wanted to have finished my first draft for an article due tomorrow but then vera came and talking about what happened after will just bring me back to the beginning (so if you care to read about what happened after, just go back to the beginning).

let's talk about jobs. i still find myself thinking about the interview. maybe i should write about it. vera just mentioned i'll end up writing a very good novel, which is not an alien idea because i would like to be a novelist. i would like to be a screenwriter. i would like to be an award-winning writer. i would like to be a director. i would like to be wanted. appreciated. ... here i go again. maybe a period could knock my head back to reality and remind me that i still don't have a job so i better not treat in scarrier territories. period.

by the way, i might tutor koreans. like what a date with drew's brian herzlinger's mother told him: it's better to have something coming in than nothing coming in. yes.

(about the font. i got conscious because vera just told me that the font in my blog is too small so i'm trying this out. don't worry, if it bothers, then i'll go back to what i started with)

(and lastly, thanks vera for dropping by. you put a very good dent to my usually bleak sundays.)

i miss you poppy, mommy and bienni.

ronald bass is a screenwriter nobody wants to hear about. get this: he wrote rain man (oscar awardee for best original screenplay), the joy luck club, when a man loves a woman, dangerous minds, waiting to exhale, my bestfriend's wedding, how stella got her groove back, what dreams may come, stepmom and many others. i think he just wrote around 10 favorite movies. ok, ok, we all love to hear about him.

i'm just wondering out loud (what lifestyle channel always blurts out): it's good to be ronald bass! screenwriters may not earn much, but to be blessed with such to be able to write such, i don't think he'd really need moolah to have something to shove into people's faces. well, hello, he's not paris hilton.

hands down as well to john irving, my current favorite, favorite writer. out of his (around) 10 novels, 5 have been turned into movies. even one of my favorite films, simon birch, was based on his novel, a prayer for owen meany. i never even realized that until i bumped into his writing credits. hands down. fingers down. wow. 

cheers to both. may i be part of your league soon.

*smirk*