Aaaah, bliss is when you have prolonged hours to sleep after three straight days of physical exhaustion from dancing and waiting around, not to mention the last few weeks rehearsing my butt off for the last three days. I only got up this afternoon because I was worried I might either 1. sleep till tomorrow and not have any of my Mom's caldereta or 2. wake up sometime tonight and not be able to sleep till tomorrow. Both are tragedies in my book.
My parents are worried that I'm losing too much weight. My dad says it's not funny anymore. When did it become funny at all? I swear, I eat, I'm not anorexic, I am healthy. I just probably need more sleep than I can get, that's all. I have a day off from dancing tomorrow, but I have to go to school so it's not quite the day off I was expecting. Today's afternoon off was very welcome, though.
Anyway, back to my praning parents. They're forcing stresstabs down my throat, that's how worried they are. My worry is, doesn't the TV/billboard ad guarantee that if you take stresstabs, you'll look younger? Do I want to look younger?
Harhar, yes, I'm nuts.
When I've convinced my mom that I do eat very very regularly, she said to me "Baka nagla-laxatives ka?" Oooh, how's that for trust? Jacqui replied, "Oo, she does. Nagla-lactacyd siya..."
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Friday, January 28, 2005
room to fly
I really enjoy performing but I hope not again soon in the RCBC auditorium. While the building rocks (you should visit their uber cool food court where you can swipey all you want and go bankrupt at lunchtime), the stage of their theatre is rather small. I've been kicking/kicked by people the last two days too much to really enjoy my dancing. Good thing it doesn't look like it's falling apart from the audience (well, so I've been told).
----
I just love sharing my sleepyhouse with someone. It's one of the absolute best things in the world.
----
I just love sharing my sleepyhouse with someone. It's one of the absolute best things in the world.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
perfect
Since I was trained (and very well, may I add) to run a ballet school for all my life, I get so frustrated when I see disorder and lack of organization from the professional company I dance for. I am more frustrated that, being only a dancer for said company, I cannot do anything about it, I just let the chaos run its natural course.
On the upside, I am doing really great dancing lately. I always like to do Andres because of the neo-classical choreography and the music and the drama of the revolution. I think The Saga of the Coronary Man is one big joke but doing it flawlessly with Nino on the first try makes me not mind the dance so much. And despite the horrid costume ("You look like a little kid who put on her mom's dress," said Lucas), Mantones de Manila is actually fun.
I'm thinking it's because I'm dancing, period. But that's just me being modest, I guess.
In February, there's more dancing to do, plus I might have a chance to dance Tzigane. Anatoly wants me to, and Kit (who claims to be sick of Tzigane) wants me to, also. I like that I'm not only doing great dancing, but there are challenges everywhere. I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.
---
You could say that I have everything I ever wanted. Well, I think I could have a few more things to make my life absolutely perfect. I want a house where you're not locked in at 11pm (I swear, it's worse than Alcatraz), with a homey kitchen and warm, cozy beds. I want neverending internet, good music, a player for my ballet videos. I want two kids, one with super straight hair, another with curly curly hair, singing "More Than Words" to me.
Otherwise, I've got a pretty good life. *Hugging the Universe*
On the upside, I am doing really great dancing lately. I always like to do Andres because of the neo-classical choreography and the music and the drama of the revolution. I think The Saga of the Coronary Man is one big joke but doing it flawlessly with Nino on the first try makes me not mind the dance so much. And despite the horrid costume ("You look like a little kid who put on her mom's dress," said Lucas), Mantones de Manila is actually fun.
I'm thinking it's because I'm dancing, period. But that's just me being modest, I guess.
In February, there's more dancing to do, plus I might have a chance to dance Tzigane. Anatoly wants me to, and Kit (who claims to be sick of Tzigane) wants me to, also. I like that I'm not only doing great dancing, but there are challenges everywhere. I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.
---
You could say that I have everything I ever wanted. Well, I think I could have a few more things to make my life absolutely perfect. I want a house where you're not locked in at 11pm (I swear, it's worse than Alcatraz), with a homey kitchen and warm, cozy beds. I want neverending internet, good music, a player for my ballet videos. I want two kids, one with super straight hair, another with curly curly hair, singing "More Than Words" to me.
Otherwise, I've got a pretty good life. *Hugging the Universe*
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
like I have time (my last worrywart blog entry before I write the good stuff)
I wrote down all the things I'm doing according to level of importance and realized that I'm doing quite a lot of stuff and none of them generate income. Well, some of them do, but barely enough to live on. I cannot support a kid on my own and still do half the things I want to do. Which is probably why I haven't gotten pregnant yet.
I said as much to my Dad last weekend (there's been a strange truce in our house over the last week that I've been around him, I can't seem to explain it) and he said, "Eh di wag ka sumayaw at mag call center ka." Kinda immediately puts things in perspective.
I guess my point is I've been doing a lot of stuff lately that I'm so busy and I haven't had time to even sit in front of the TV to couch potato in the longest. Well, don't count last night watching Manhunt while waiting for a call. Yes, I really was waiting for a call when I sat down and watched that "Who's Going To Be The Next Male Supermodel" reality show. No, I don't think I'm being defensive at all. Anyway, with my dancing and teaching and housekeeping and writing and schooling (and I haven't even really started my thesis proposal yet, much less have done research) and blogging, I barely have time for TV, sleep and socializing. I have to figure out soon which to really let go. That would be one of my writing projects, which I really don't want to scrap but will eventually have to, I guess. Or I can figure out how to do away with sleeping altogether. I'm kidding, of course.
At least, my list has convinced me not to apply to teach at UP in the near future as that will definitely demand more full time than I want to give it. I have three shows this weekend and have been going nuts because they're all different repertoire in every show and I'm in most every rehearsal. And, as always, I'd rather run around like a headless chicken in ballet than in any other endeavor, even if it pays only peanuts. Though that would be a funny sight on stage, haha.
I don't know why I'm always worried that I'm not quite the standard 30 year old you see these days, because, hello, nobody's holding a gun to my head. Just let me have a few more minutes to sleep, please?
Ack, I gotta go take a bath now.
I said as much to my Dad last weekend (there's been a strange truce in our house over the last week that I've been around him, I can't seem to explain it) and he said, "Eh di wag ka sumayaw at mag call center ka." Kinda immediately puts things in perspective.
I guess my point is I've been doing a lot of stuff lately that I'm so busy and I haven't had time to even sit in front of the TV to couch potato in the longest. Well, don't count last night watching Manhunt while waiting for a call. Yes, I really was waiting for a call when I sat down and watched that "Who's Going To Be The Next Male Supermodel" reality show. No, I don't think I'm being defensive at all. Anyway, with my dancing and teaching and housekeeping and writing and schooling (and I haven't even really started my thesis proposal yet, much less have done research) and blogging, I barely have time for TV, sleep and socializing. I have to figure out soon which to really let go. That would be one of my writing projects, which I really don't want to scrap but will eventually have to, I guess. Or I can figure out how to do away with sleeping altogether. I'm kidding, of course.
At least, my list has convinced me not to apply to teach at UP in the near future as that will definitely demand more full time than I want to give it. I have three shows this weekend and have been going nuts because they're all different repertoire in every show and I'm in most every rehearsal. And, as always, I'd rather run around like a headless chicken in ballet than in any other endeavor, even if it pays only peanuts. Though that would be a funny sight on stage, haha.
I don't know why I'm always worried that I'm not quite the standard 30 year old you see these days, because, hello, nobody's holding a gun to my head. Just let me have a few more minutes to sleep, please?
Ack, I gotta go take a bath now.
(as if I've been really blogging a lot lately...)
My Research professor (whom I currently love) has suggested to a couple classmates of mine, and to the rest of the class in general, to keep a journal for our research work. There are so many things we discover when we do research, but we don't get them all down right away and some things get lost in the process.
This reminds me of college and I was taking a choreography seminar under this girl from the States, an American-Filipina named Christine. She encouraged us to keep journals of creativity, to write down any ideas that we could use in our choreography. I still have my choreography journal of that period, it recorded my thoughts while making the dance of this piece for a friend's composition recital. Strangely, I don't think I'd be needing the stuff I had written down there. I can use more stuff from the journals I keep, both online and off, where I write about my life.
When I killed my previous blog Joelle So Far aka http://jete.blogspot.com, I had decided not to make it disappear entirely and put it together in book form to give to some of my friends (the ones who'd want a copy). Reading through the old entries, I found a lot of things that I had forgotten - some trivial, some quite important. This is what journals are for, academic or otherwise. There's a lot I had learned and a lot I could still stand to relearn and remember. Journals chronicle these important discoveries and should keep you from forgetting. They also remind you what you've done the last few years. I may not be a controversial moviestar or President, but my life is interesting. According to my blog, that is.
I have a dozen or so journals in existence. A lot of them are useless whiny drabble, but they have their moments. A bunch of years ago, when Mayo and I had become super buddies, I had texted him, "May! I read my journal when we were together and I was so in love with you, ang gross!!!" And he indignantly replied, "What was so gross?" When I think of the things I chose to write about, I feel that I should have written more about things, I should have written about more things. I've been actually thinking maybe I should burn them when I'm around sixty or so.
But then, you'll still have this blog. A little bit less whiny and about more things than my offline journals. I can't burn it but deleting it is possible. If it manages to survive centuries, I wonder what people will think when they read it. "Oh so that's how it was in the 2000s... Their pointe shoes were already made of fibreglass but they can't fly yet, can they? What the hell are laptops?"
Okay, I'm babbling on and on again. My point is I have to stop babbling (how ironic) about things that I cannot use, things that make me feel bad. While blogging has proven to be a useful outlet for when I'm upset, I realize I should do this in my offline journals (the ones that I eventually plan to burn) and save my online space for stuff that are worth reading. Self-improvement and reflection should be entertaining. If not, don't post your thoughts online, then. I'm just saying.
I can say though that blogging and writing in my journal has been good for me. As my Research prof says, writing in a journal is very personal. The part I like there is the me. Me Me Me. My thoughts, my feelings, my reactions. My going on and on and on. Sure, it may border on whiny and useless, but better here than while interviewing somebody for a racket. This article I'm writing is about me. While I would have wanted to turn the interview into conversation, I'm glad I am able to stop myself by quickly thinking, "Save it for the Sleepyhouse."
Okay, enough romanticized bs. Back to our regular programming.
This reminds me of college and I was taking a choreography seminar under this girl from the States, an American-Filipina named Christine. She encouraged us to keep journals of creativity, to write down any ideas that we could use in our choreography. I still have my choreography journal of that period, it recorded my thoughts while making the dance of this piece for a friend's composition recital. Strangely, I don't think I'd be needing the stuff I had written down there. I can use more stuff from the journals I keep, both online and off, where I write about my life.
When I killed my previous blog Joelle So Far aka http://jete.blogspot.com, I had decided not to make it disappear entirely and put it together in book form to give to some of my friends (the ones who'd want a copy). Reading through the old entries, I found a lot of things that I had forgotten - some trivial, some quite important. This is what journals are for, academic or otherwise. There's a lot I had learned and a lot I could still stand to relearn and remember. Journals chronicle these important discoveries and should keep you from forgetting. They also remind you what you've done the last few years. I may not be a controversial moviestar or President, but my life is interesting. According to my blog, that is.
I have a dozen or so journals in existence. A lot of them are useless whiny drabble, but they have their moments. A bunch of years ago, when Mayo and I had become super buddies, I had texted him, "May! I read my journal when we were together and I was so in love with you, ang gross!!!" And he indignantly replied, "What was so gross?" When I think of the things I chose to write about, I feel that I should have written more about things, I should have written about more things. I've been actually thinking maybe I should burn them when I'm around sixty or so.
But then, you'll still have this blog. A little bit less whiny and about more things than my offline journals. I can't burn it but deleting it is possible. If it manages to survive centuries, I wonder what people will think when they read it. "Oh so that's how it was in the 2000s... Their pointe shoes were already made of fibreglass but they can't fly yet, can they? What the hell are laptops?"
Okay, I'm babbling on and on again. My point is I have to stop babbling (how ironic) about things that I cannot use, things that make me feel bad. While blogging has proven to be a useful outlet for when I'm upset, I realize I should do this in my offline journals (the ones that I eventually plan to burn) and save my online space for stuff that are worth reading. Self-improvement and reflection should be entertaining. If not, don't post your thoughts online, then. I'm just saying.
I can say though that blogging and writing in my journal has been good for me. As my Research prof says, writing in a journal is very personal. The part I like there is the me. Me Me Me. My thoughts, my feelings, my reactions. My going on and on and on. Sure, it may border on whiny and useless, but better here than while interviewing somebody for a racket. This article I'm writing is about me. While I would have wanted to turn the interview into conversation, I'm glad I am able to stop myself by quickly thinking, "Save it for the Sleepyhouse."
Okay, enough romanticized bs. Back to our regular programming.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
the story of a laptop
I was thinking the other day that I should give my laptop a name. Then, I couldn't think of one. I realize why, now. This may be the last time I blog on this laptop as I'm trading it in for Lucas' old (relatively) Hewlett Packard laptop that he isn't using anymore and sold to my mom so that he can buy his new (relatively) Mac i-book.
I actually didn't want to. First of all, I had grown accustomed to its face. I'm the type of person who gets really attached to things that belong to me. Like I can't understand why some of my friends sell their books (I'm still mourning my decision to give away my copy of the Iliad to a Quill booksale) and I nearly died when I lost my 7650 in the Supercat in Dumaguete. I like this laptop, I like how it feels under my fingers, I even like its sad lack of hinge. I love how it made me feel more optimistic about all the writing I had to do and how everything in it belonged only to me.
So why am I trading it in?
Lucas sold his old one to Mommy to get money to buy the new one. Mommy doesn't need a laptop but Lucas didn't want to sell the old one outside as it was a pretty good laptop and he had also grown attached to it. Now, nobody's using it. He told me to switch laptops as the other one is better and I was quite resistant. I slowly caved in, at first because the other one is smaller and not too bulky to carry around in my fabulous new laptop backpack.
And then, I thought, hmmmm, Photoshop. I can't do much on this laptop because it has only 1gb of memory and that was okay with me initially because all I thought of doing here was writing. But I thought I wanted to also be able to edit pictures and I have to go to another PC to do that.
Lucas' laptop is actually quite better than this one, except it doesn't have floppy and cd drives, I need external drives to transfer data. But it has a bigger hard drive and more memory and works better all around. And then the dealbreaker.
I was working on my next Better Business article, and thinking I was again crappy as a Better Business guru, and finished it and decided to submit it, never mind the consequences. And as soon as I was about to save the document, my laptop hung. I know, I should know by now to save my documents, right? I don't know why I didn't. Anyway, I thought, I'll be able to recover the document when I restart.
"Word cannot recover previous document, blah blah blah."
Perhaps it's fate. Telling me to get Lucas' HP already, knowing I needed a really drastic event to push me towards that. Telling me that I'll write a better article tomorrow after I've given it more thought. That I should learn more lessons today than I do in a week.
We shall see. I kiss this Acer TravelMate goodbye for now. I shall definitely miss you.
I actually didn't want to. First of all, I had grown accustomed to its face. I'm the type of person who gets really attached to things that belong to me. Like I can't understand why some of my friends sell their books (I'm still mourning my decision to give away my copy of the Iliad to a Quill booksale) and I nearly died when I lost my 7650 in the Supercat in Dumaguete. I like this laptop, I like how it feels under my fingers, I even like its sad lack of hinge. I love how it made me feel more optimistic about all the writing I had to do and how everything in it belonged only to me.
So why am I trading it in?
Lucas sold his old one to Mommy to get money to buy the new one. Mommy doesn't need a laptop but Lucas didn't want to sell the old one outside as it was a pretty good laptop and he had also grown attached to it. Now, nobody's using it. He told me to switch laptops as the other one is better and I was quite resistant. I slowly caved in, at first because the other one is smaller and not too bulky to carry around in my fabulous new laptop backpack.
And then, I thought, hmmmm, Photoshop. I can't do much on this laptop because it has only 1gb of memory and that was okay with me initially because all I thought of doing here was writing. But I thought I wanted to also be able to edit pictures and I have to go to another PC to do that.
Lucas' laptop is actually quite better than this one, except it doesn't have floppy and cd drives, I need external drives to transfer data. But it has a bigger hard drive and more memory and works better all around. And then the dealbreaker.
I was working on my next Better Business article, and thinking I was again crappy as a Better Business guru, and finished it and decided to submit it, never mind the consequences. And as soon as I was about to save the document, my laptop hung. I know, I should know by now to save my documents, right? I don't know why I didn't. Anyway, I thought, I'll be able to recover the document when I restart.
"Word cannot recover previous document, blah blah blah."
Perhaps it's fate. Telling me to get Lucas' HP already, knowing I needed a really drastic event to push me towards that. Telling me that I'll write a better article tomorrow after I've given it more thought. That I should learn more lessons today than I do in a week.
We shall see. I kiss this Acer TravelMate goodbye for now. I shall definitely miss you.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
i don't wanna close my eyes... i don't wanna fall asleep...
Cute conversation
He: How was (ballet) class?
Me: Okay. Except my turns were a bit off.
He: You were turned off?
Isn't that the funniest? Or mababaw lang ako?
I am so tired, but I'm grateful because I have to be awake by 5am tomorrow morning to get to PBT for our 6am warm-up class for our 8am performance. I swear, the next time they make us get up this early to dance, I'm going on strike.
Ha. Who am I kidding?
"Cause I'll miss you babe, and I don't wanna miss a thi-ing..."
He: How was (ballet) class?
Me: Okay. Except my turns were a bit off.
He: You were turned off?
Isn't that the funniest? Or mababaw lang ako?
I am so tired, but I'm grateful because I have to be awake by 5am tomorrow morning to get to PBT for our 6am warm-up class for our 8am performance. I swear, the next time they make us get up this early to dance, I'm going on strike.
Ha. Who am I kidding?
"Cause I'll miss you babe, and I don't wanna miss a thi-ing..."
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
early morning, there's a halo hanging from the corner of my gf's 4-post bed...
I'm changing my time zone. I get way too tired on the weekends getting up at 6 to teach baby ballet class at 8 and have to sustain physical activity till 4pm. And then Monday rolls around and I sleep till 11, at which point I only get up to go to get dressed and head straight for school. And since I wasted all that time during the day sleeping, I figure I should stay up late to do other stuff besides school and ballet, like watch TV, write, surf, etc. (I was refraining from saying "go out with and french kiss handsome boy," but I'm weak, weak, W E A K!!!). And wake up late again the next morning and sleep late again that night (or early the next morning, whichever you prefer). Until the weekend where I have to wake up at 6 to teach a baby ballet class at 8.
And so my time zone is fucked up. Should I still indulge myself with the thought that I was destined to live in Europe and therefore my timezone is only applicable there? I decided, not.
I'm awake this early in the morning because I forced myself to sleep early last night, on account of my zombie-ish weekend where I longed to just rest my head a bit and had no chance to. Saturday, I was already lacking sleep when I went with the fam to my uncle's birthday party, where we stayed till 11 and only went home because I whined that we had to. Sunday, I should have caught zzz's but I laundried all the precious moments between going home from ballet and leaving LP for our weekday house and instead of sleeping when I got to the city, I went out with and french kissed said handsome boy. I know, I know, why complain about lack of sleep when you're the one who makes your bed, but can you blame me? Handsome boy needs to be kissed. Well, I think so, anyway.
I also need to condition my body for Friday: we have 2 shows for the La Salle Greenhills boys at 8 o'clock and again at 1pm. Yes, 8 in the morning. Meaning we have to get up at 5, take class at 6 and be all made up by 7:30. Don't classes start at 8, don't they have to take attendance first? I'm dancing in the three suites of dances in the programme - Blue Girls in Who Cares, my part in Fiesta and Reed Flutes and Waltz of the Flowers in The Nutcracker. They're all highly aerobic and I wonder how I will survive without sleep, given that I live the way I do. I don't intend to find out, really.
Ah, I've almost forgotten what mornings feel like. You know what I feel like doing though? Going back to sleep. Must re.. sis.. ss.. zzz...
And so my time zone is fucked up. Should I still indulge myself with the thought that I was destined to live in Europe and therefore my timezone is only applicable there? I decided, not.
I'm awake this early in the morning because I forced myself to sleep early last night, on account of my zombie-ish weekend where I longed to just rest my head a bit and had no chance to. Saturday, I was already lacking sleep when I went with the fam to my uncle's birthday party, where we stayed till 11 and only went home because I whined that we had to. Sunday, I should have caught zzz's but I laundried all the precious moments between going home from ballet and leaving LP for our weekday house and instead of sleeping when I got to the city, I went out with and french kissed said handsome boy. I know, I know, why complain about lack of sleep when you're the one who makes your bed, but can you blame me? Handsome boy needs to be kissed. Well, I think so, anyway.
I also need to condition my body for Friday: we have 2 shows for the La Salle Greenhills boys at 8 o'clock and again at 1pm. Yes, 8 in the morning. Meaning we have to get up at 5, take class at 6 and be all made up by 7:30. Don't classes start at 8, don't they have to take attendance first? I'm dancing in the three suites of dances in the programme - Blue Girls in Who Cares, my part in Fiesta and Reed Flutes and Waltz of the Flowers in The Nutcracker. They're all highly aerobic and I wonder how I will survive without sleep, given that I live the way I do. I don't intend to find out, really.
Ah, I've almost forgotten what mornings feel like. You know what I feel like doing though? Going back to sleep. Must re.. sis.. ss.. zzz...
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
more vanity: my front teeth are precious
I had a very horrible dream last night: my four front teeth came loose and off. I kept pushing them back in and of course they wouldn't stick to my gums.
This is actually a recurring dream. I usually dream that one tooth has come loose and I try not to move it so that it won't come off. It's never painful but I'm very horrified - of course I don't want to spend the rest of my life with my front teeth missing. I'm aware that there's a superstition that if you dream about losing a tooth, someone you know will die. But I always dream of losing a tooth; in last night's case, four of my teeth. No one dies right after, so I'm not a believer of that. Still, having to go through this dream is one of my least favorite experiences.
Another thing I hate about getting this dream is how my teeth feel weird the entire day after. They're securely attached and virtually unbudgable, but I avoid having my tongue or anything collide with my teeth and they feel weird. I don't know, I can't explain it. They even feel scared, if ever teeth can feel scared, this is what scared feels like to teeth.
I know I should be able to figure out why I'm dreaming that my teeth come off at all; I know it should be something to do with insecurity. I don't know what I could be feeling insecure about. I wish I did so that I can stop dreaming about my teeth.
This is actually a recurring dream. I usually dream that one tooth has come loose and I try not to move it so that it won't come off. It's never painful but I'm very horrified - of course I don't want to spend the rest of my life with my front teeth missing. I'm aware that there's a superstition that if you dream about losing a tooth, someone you know will die. But I always dream of losing a tooth; in last night's case, four of my teeth. No one dies right after, so I'm not a believer of that. Still, having to go through this dream is one of my least favorite experiences.
Another thing I hate about getting this dream is how my teeth feel weird the entire day after. They're securely attached and virtually unbudgable, but I avoid having my tongue or anything collide with my teeth and they feel weird. I don't know, I can't explain it. They even feel scared, if ever teeth can feel scared, this is what scared feels like to teeth.
I know I should be able to figure out why I'm dreaming that my teeth come off at all; I know it should be something to do with insecurity. I don't know what I could be feeling insecure about. I wish I did so that I can stop dreaming about my teeth.
Friday, January 14, 2005
black from death star. that's where you are.
Mikah and I were talking about how it's more fun to invent lyrics of songs and it made me remember how I'm always changing lyrics to Purplechickens' songs. Like in "Common Cold," the lyric is "It rocked through all my life, it shunned all holidays..." but I sing it "It rocked through all my life, except most Saturdays..." (to which Mikah said, "Because you can't go out on Saturdays?") and in "Cream Mountains," I'm singing, "And I've decided to fade away..."
I think the Purplechickens songs beg for misinterpretation, as Aldus writes in a manner that would make even the most learned Postmodern Foucault-wannabe stop and wonder. Much of his poetry is like this, but so is his prose, his academic essays, even the feature articles he once wrote for Legmanila and the press releases he wrote for me. It's smart, but there's often an IQ prerequisite to get him. Anyway, I think it's mostly fun to mishear his songs so much that he does it as well. In "Dream Systems," the original line goes, "Back from that star, that's where you are..." but I've heard him sing it, "Black from Death Star..."
One of their songs that I miss-sing is an old song, "Digit Con," a clever, catchy piece about getting a blow job. While there's a wealth of lyric to mishear, such as
In a Clinton-cloudy ride
I've been hearing all the wild signs
Heaven's in my head
I keep cringing all the while
I can't bake myself a smile
till now...
I basically miss-sing the start of the chorus, which goes, "She dipped my head..." and sing, "She licked my..." at which point Aldus is always stopping me and correcting me in a most desperate tone. We know it's about getting head, but other people don't need to, after all. Still, I like "licked" over "dipped." How do you dip someone's head anyway? And what fun is that?
While remembering this song (it's very old and not on either the EP or the album itself), I suddenly had this craving to hear it. It's one of my favorite Purplechickens songs, I believe one of their wittiest. Hey boys, revival!
Mikah tells me how the Cocteau Twins are a band he mishears a lot because the vocalist sings like her voice is one of the instruments. I like that, I was thinking Waya sings that way and I want to use that idea in my book. It reminds me of how I like the way Tori Amos and Shannon Hoon sing like they're playing with their voice and trying to get all kinds of sounds out of themselves. But how to translate into prose? Aah, a challenge.
Did I mention that Tos was supposed to be in the movie (now book) also, as the singer of The Manox and Maria's friend with whom she tries to write songs with? Yes, this songwriter inspires me this much. I wonder if he'll let Maria sing "Digit Con." I mean, I did, once.
I think the Purplechickens songs beg for misinterpretation, as Aldus writes in a manner that would make even the most learned Postmodern Foucault-wannabe stop and wonder. Much of his poetry is like this, but so is his prose, his academic essays, even the feature articles he once wrote for Legmanila and the press releases he wrote for me. It's smart, but there's often an IQ prerequisite to get him. Anyway, I think it's mostly fun to mishear his songs so much that he does it as well. In "Dream Systems," the original line goes, "Back from that star, that's where you are..." but I've heard him sing it, "Black from Death Star..."
One of their songs that I miss-sing is an old song, "Digit Con," a clever, catchy piece about getting a blow job. While there's a wealth of lyric to mishear, such as
In a Clinton-cloudy ride
I've been hearing all the wild signs
Heaven's in my head
I keep cringing all the while
I can't bake myself a smile
till now...
I basically miss-sing the start of the chorus, which goes, "She dipped my head..." and sing, "She licked my..." at which point Aldus is always stopping me and correcting me in a most desperate tone. We know it's about getting head, but other people don't need to, after all. Still, I like "licked" over "dipped." How do you dip someone's head anyway? And what fun is that?
While remembering this song (it's very old and not on either the EP or the album itself), I suddenly had this craving to hear it. It's one of my favorite Purplechickens songs, I believe one of their wittiest. Hey boys, revival!
Mikah tells me how the Cocteau Twins are a band he mishears a lot because the vocalist sings like her voice is one of the instruments. I like that, I was thinking Waya sings that way and I want to use that idea in my book. It reminds me of how I like the way Tori Amos and Shannon Hoon sing like they're playing with their voice and trying to get all kinds of sounds out of themselves. But how to translate into prose? Aah, a challenge.
Did I mention that Tos was supposed to be in the movie (now book) also, as the singer of The Manox and Maria's friend with whom she tries to write songs with? Yes, this songwriter inspires me this much. I wonder if he'll let Maria sing "Digit Con." I mean, I did, once.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
what's in my bag?
This is a meme I got from Lala's blog. I thought of the meme today because I brought my new laptop backpack to ballet today (I'm currently writing this entry on my laptop in the studio while waiting for rehearsal, this is soooo cool). This is my new orange backpack that I was lovingly given last Christmas:
And these are the contents:
Of course, there's my laptop on the right. Going from the top, we have:
1. My knitted ballet shorts. Actually, my ballet bag usually contains my ballet clothes - leotard and tights - only. My warm wear, I leave in a little plastic basket in the PBT studio in Meralco. Since I took this picture while wearing my tights and leotards, I used my knitted ballet shorts as representive of them.
2. My Gaynor Minden pointe shoes. They look kinda scary because they're made of fibre glass. They're also not as clean as they used to be. I usually leave my ballet shoes in the basket in Meralco, but not my pointe shoes because somehow, stuff disappears in the Studio. Pointe shoes aren't really klepto-bait but I'm not taking any risks. While ordinary pointes cost around 2,500-2,800, Gaynor Mindens cost 5,000 a pop. They last really long, though.
3. My blue umbrella. You can never tell when it's going to rain in this country.
4. My red and black wallet. It's the only red thing I own (not including clothes) so I worry that it doesn't go with the rest of my stuff, but a wallet is only found inside the bag, it's not really an accessory after all.
5. My blue pen. I have a red and a black pen at home. I don't know why they're not in my bag.
6. My coin purse. I think I got this from Waya from a Bora trip she took once. It holds all my coins, it's off-white and has a smart batik strip down the middle.
7. A blue floppy disk. For whatever things I need to save and transfer suddenly. Right now it has my old blog entries from Jete, I'm transferring them and laying them out in a book I plan to self-publish. If ever I get around to it that is.
8. My tri-color lip gloss. I don't think they look different from each other, but other people assure me otherwise. It was a gift from Quincy's girlfriend from when Daddy went to visit him in Orange County.
9. My keys, one to the weekday house, another to Lucas' room. The keychain is a pretty wooden window with a mirror inside and tiny jewels outside, a gift from Fran a birthday ago.
10. My Vanilla Vanille perfume.
11. Masking tape. To tape my feet with for when I put on my pointe shoes.
12. Decolgen No Drowse. I had some in my bag back when I was sickly and for some reason, I just keep them there.
13. My blue brush. It's the same color as the new repaint of Lucas' beetle.
14. My hairnet. Well, one of, the other one is on my head. A bunch of hairpins are beside it.
15. Rubberbands. I know rubberbands are usually bad for your hair but I don't wear them the normal way; instead, I place two hairpins at separate points of the rubberbands and twist them around my hair to hold the ponytail. The hair does not get entangled to the hair then, the way it would if you just used the rubberband. I have to use rubberbands because my hair is too heavy for normal ponytail elastics to hold, it always come loose for some reason. There are few things I hate more than a loose ponytail/bun when I dance. I want my hair tucked away, snug and tight, and not in the way.
16. My leopard print pouch where I put my hair gear and my lip gloss. I think there's a nappy in there, but I'm not displaying it.
I think there would have been more in my bag on another day, depending if I have school or a show or whatever. Like other days, I would have brought my journal but I must have left it at home with my other pens. As for now, this is mostly stuff I bring to ballet class. The laptop is essential because I find it's more productive to type away while waiting for rehearsal, I get lots more done and I have more time to sleep. Or go out, in which case I don't have more time to sleep, but you know what I mean.
My cellphone is also supposed to be in this meme, but I used it to take these pictures. And it never stays in my bag for long, anyway.
And these are the contents:
Of course, there's my laptop on the right. Going from the top, we have:
1. My knitted ballet shorts. Actually, my ballet bag usually contains my ballet clothes - leotard and tights - only. My warm wear, I leave in a little plastic basket in the PBT studio in Meralco. Since I took this picture while wearing my tights and leotards, I used my knitted ballet shorts as representive of them.
2. My Gaynor Minden pointe shoes. They look kinda scary because they're made of fibre glass. They're also not as clean as they used to be. I usually leave my ballet shoes in the basket in Meralco, but not my pointe shoes because somehow, stuff disappears in the Studio. Pointe shoes aren't really klepto-bait but I'm not taking any risks. While ordinary pointes cost around 2,500-2,800, Gaynor Mindens cost 5,000 a pop. They last really long, though.
3. My blue umbrella. You can never tell when it's going to rain in this country.
4. My red and black wallet. It's the only red thing I own (not including clothes) so I worry that it doesn't go with the rest of my stuff, but a wallet is only found inside the bag, it's not really an accessory after all.
5. My blue pen. I have a red and a black pen at home. I don't know why they're not in my bag.
6. My coin purse. I think I got this from Waya from a Bora trip she took once. It holds all my coins, it's off-white and has a smart batik strip down the middle.
7. A blue floppy disk. For whatever things I need to save and transfer suddenly. Right now it has my old blog entries from Jete, I'm transferring them and laying them out in a book I plan to self-publish. If ever I get around to it that is.
8. My tri-color lip gloss. I don't think they look different from each other, but other people assure me otherwise. It was a gift from Quincy's girlfriend from when Daddy went to visit him in Orange County.
9. My keys, one to the weekday house, another to Lucas' room. The keychain is a pretty wooden window with a mirror inside and tiny jewels outside, a gift from Fran a birthday ago.
10. My Vanilla Vanille perfume.
11. Masking tape. To tape my feet with for when I put on my pointe shoes.
12. Decolgen No Drowse. I had some in my bag back when I was sickly and for some reason, I just keep them there.
13. My blue brush. It's the same color as the new repaint of Lucas' beetle.
14. My hairnet. Well, one of, the other one is on my head. A bunch of hairpins are beside it.
15. Rubberbands. I know rubberbands are usually bad for your hair but I don't wear them the normal way; instead, I place two hairpins at separate points of the rubberbands and twist them around my hair to hold the ponytail. The hair does not get entangled to the hair then, the way it would if you just used the rubberband. I have to use rubberbands because my hair is too heavy for normal ponytail elastics to hold, it always come loose for some reason. There are few things I hate more than a loose ponytail/bun when I dance. I want my hair tucked away, snug and tight, and not in the way.
16. My leopard print pouch where I put my hair gear and my lip gloss. I think there's a nappy in there, but I'm not displaying it.
I think there would have been more in my bag on another day, depending if I have school or a show or whatever. Like other days, I would have brought my journal but I must have left it at home with my other pens. As for now, this is mostly stuff I bring to ballet class. The laptop is essential because I find it's more productive to type away while waiting for rehearsal, I get lots more done and I have more time to sleep. Or go out, in which case I don't have more time to sleep, but you know what I mean.
My cellphone is also supposed to be in this meme, but I used it to take these pictures. And it never stays in my bag for long, anyway.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
dancing queen back in action
I haven't blogged about ballet in a while, so I thought I should for a bit. I was reading the archives of my sleepyhouse and thinking how I would write about the same problem or same bone of contention again and again. And how it made this blog dull and repetitive.
So just the facts. And some nice thoughts.
We've been back to professional ballet for a week and a half, and we have shows - a series of intermission numbers (hahaha) for a doctor's convention, two performances in La Salle Greenhills, more stuff in February because it's arts month, as well as a short trip to General Santos (on the weekend, but my Dad has no choice, it's the only dealbreaker - also partly why I can't go out and have fun on the weekend, I have to save my absences for PBT-related stuff).
We're dancing The Nutcracker and Fiesta in La Salle, then Andres excerpts, The Saga of the Coronary Man and Mantones de Manila in the doctor's convention. I kinda like the varied repertoire, even though I know learning all the new choreography/trying to remember choreography we haven't done recently will be harder than doing just one choreography over and over.
We've been learning Mantones de Manila. Arnel is my partner and as usual, he's sort of freaking out about partnering me, as it still unsettles him that I sometimes leave him behind, especially when he's freaking out over the parts he doesn't understand. I'm supposed to be partnering Nino but his contract isn't finalized yet, so they're working on that. I really do look forward to partering him. A good partnership is always ideal.
Okay, I'm very satisfied about this entry, not going on and on like I achieved some grand epiphany. I promise to be more interesting from now on.
So just the facts. And some nice thoughts.
We've been back to professional ballet for a week and a half, and we have shows - a series of intermission numbers (hahaha) for a doctor's convention, two performances in La Salle Greenhills, more stuff in February because it's arts month, as well as a short trip to General Santos (on the weekend, but my Dad has no choice, it's the only dealbreaker - also partly why I can't go out and have fun on the weekend, I have to save my absences for PBT-related stuff).
We're dancing The Nutcracker and Fiesta in La Salle, then Andres excerpts, The Saga of the Coronary Man and Mantones de Manila in the doctor's convention. I kinda like the varied repertoire, even though I know learning all the new choreography/trying to remember choreography we haven't done recently will be harder than doing just one choreography over and over.
We've been learning Mantones de Manila. Arnel is my partner and as usual, he's sort of freaking out about partnering me, as it still unsettles him that I sometimes leave him behind, especially when he's freaking out over the parts he doesn't understand. I'm supposed to be partnering Nino but his contract isn't finalized yet, so they're working on that. I really do look forward to partering him. A good partnership is always ideal.
Okay, I'm very satisfied about this entry, not going on and on like I achieved some grand epiphany. I promise to be more interesting from now on.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
we go all the way for veracity
I'm very excited about my thesis. In my class yesterday, I was made to realize the importance of finding a primary source of data, instead of secondary, like reading about the phenomenon in a book or in an encyclopedia and not witnessing it firsthand. Since I had thought of comparing the pas de deux to the couple dances in our folk and ethnic dances, I had only thought of looking at the folk dance groups who perform these dances (you know, tapes of the Bayanihan and the Ramon Obusan etc) and reading the folk dance transcriptions that are available. Then my teacher suggested it would be better if I went and saw the actual dances first hand.
Yes, she meant go to the actual tribe and wait for them to perform the dance for me. I never thought of that. I was then going to chuck the idea when she then suggested I could apply for a research grant for this, in return for a short monograph of my findings, and God knows the Philippines would like more hands-on research on their local dances. They would fund my going to the place and the publication of my monograph, assuming I budget correctly. And then I could use the findings in my thesis, which will be a bigger body of work.
Maybe I was just being defensive about my Research Professor's opinions on my thesis when I was justifying its importance too much and writing all sorts of surrounding explanations that weren't quite necessary in my problem proposal. She didn't see right away what it was that I wanted to say because I surrounded it with too much backstory. When she did finally get what it was that I wanted to do, she was more receptive to it and told me yesterday that she would like to work with me more on my topic. Was it Brother Mike who said, "Less talk, less mistake"? Ah, yes, there's a reason why the bastard's so rich.
I'm quite stoked to see where this is going. It's nice when the pursuit of higher knowledge agrees with you.
Yes, she meant go to the actual tribe and wait for them to perform the dance for me. I never thought of that. I was then going to chuck the idea when she then suggested I could apply for a research grant for this, in return for a short monograph of my findings, and God knows the Philippines would like more hands-on research on their local dances. They would fund my going to the place and the publication of my monograph, assuming I budget correctly. And then I could use the findings in my thesis, which will be a bigger body of work.
Maybe I was just being defensive about my Research Professor's opinions on my thesis when I was justifying its importance too much and writing all sorts of surrounding explanations that weren't quite necessary in my problem proposal. She didn't see right away what it was that I wanted to say because I surrounded it with too much backstory. When she did finally get what it was that I wanted to do, she was more receptive to it and told me yesterday that she would like to work with me more on my topic. Was it Brother Mike who said, "Less talk, less mistake"? Ah, yes, there's a reason why the bastard's so rich.
I'm quite stoked to see where this is going. It's nice when the pursuit of higher knowledge agrees with you.
the whipping girl, unabridged
I am not the boy in the plastic bubble. Though I wouldn't mind, were I a boy; both Jake Gyllenhaal and John Travolta are hot.
Before I tell you the problem, first a little backgrounder that you might need. I have spent most of my life teaching at that studio on the weekend. I didn't go to a dance festival in China with the other dance majors because I had to be in the studio. I don't go anywhere actually on the weekend, I diligently stay at the studio, where I work my butt off. I don't go out Friday nights so that I can go home early and wake up at 6 and be happy teaching my 8 o'clock babies class. That studio on the weekend is my life.
This is the problem. When things go awry, I am to blame because I am the eldest and the one who's supposed to command responsibility. So even if I did all the things I needed to do, because there is dissension in the ranks, it is I who has to drop and give him ten.
And so, I am then accused of being selfish, inconsiderate, uncooperative. Somewhere along the way, I manage to point out that it's really not me who screwed up. And then, bam, case in point, my doing stuff on the weekend. I have the entire Monday to Friday (till 9pm) to do what I want, why do I have to include the weekend as well? Why do I have to plan to go to the beach on a weekend, never mind if I had planned to leave after I was done with my work in the studio? Why do I have to go out on the weekend at all?
But, like they said, I have the entire week to myself, to do what I want. I saw Blade Trinity tonight (technically last night) and would be in love with Ryan Reynolds if I wasn't already so in love with somebody else. Who told me that no matter how bad things get, there will always be more good so that the bad won't matter. Ryan Reynolds and his new abs don't stand a chance.
(But let me just say that if you're wondering if you should see Blade Trinity, go see it if you like high action vampire movies and to see Jessica Biel kick ass. Even if you don't like all that stuff, go see it anyway, if only for that scene where Ryan Reynolds is chained to the floor, shirtless, kneeling helpless yet glib in front of Parker Posey, who's slapping him around, all dolled up in stilletos and fangs. My mouth watered, eee.)
I'm okay. I'm not feeling like the world's most loved daughter right now, but I'll live. There's more good than bad. I saw some of that tonight and I'll see more of that in the coming weeks. Yay for me!
Before I tell you the problem, first a little backgrounder that you might need. I have spent most of my life teaching at that studio on the weekend. I didn't go to a dance festival in China with the other dance majors because I had to be in the studio. I don't go anywhere actually on the weekend, I diligently stay at the studio, where I work my butt off. I don't go out Friday nights so that I can go home early and wake up at 6 and be happy teaching my 8 o'clock babies class. That studio on the weekend is my life.
This is the problem. When things go awry, I am to blame because I am the eldest and the one who's supposed to command responsibility. So even if I did all the things I needed to do, because there is dissension in the ranks, it is I who has to drop and give him ten.
And so, I am then accused of being selfish, inconsiderate, uncooperative. Somewhere along the way, I manage to point out that it's really not me who screwed up. And then, bam, case in point, my doing stuff on the weekend. I have the entire Monday to Friday (till 9pm) to do what I want, why do I have to include the weekend as well? Why do I have to plan to go to the beach on a weekend, never mind if I had planned to leave after I was done with my work in the studio? Why do I have to go out on the weekend at all?
But, like they said, I have the entire week to myself, to do what I want. I saw Blade Trinity tonight (technically last night) and would be in love with Ryan Reynolds if I wasn't already so in love with somebody else. Who told me that no matter how bad things get, there will always be more good so that the bad won't matter. Ryan Reynolds and his new abs don't stand a chance.
(But let me just say that if you're wondering if you should see Blade Trinity, go see it if you like high action vampire movies and to see Jessica Biel kick ass. Even if you don't like all that stuff, go see it anyway, if only for that scene where Ryan Reynolds is chained to the floor, shirtless, kneeling helpless yet glib in front of Parker Posey, who's slapping him around, all dolled up in stilletos and fangs. My mouth watered, eee.)
I'm okay. I'm not feeling like the world's most loved daughter right now, but I'll live. There's more good than bad. I saw some of that tonight and I'll see more of that in the coming weeks. Yay for me!
Saturday, January 08, 2005
the whipping girl
Have you ever met/worked with/have to deal with constantly anyone who likes to see the world only the way he sees it turn and won't believe you if you tell him otherwise, even when proof that he is wrong comes crashing down on his head? Have you ever tried to be patient about somebody who blames you for everything wrong with your siblings for the mere fact that you're the oldest and supposedly responsible for every action they make? Have you ever felt you do not belong to yourself, that you never will?
How would you feel if the person who makes you feel this bad is the man who spawned you? And there's nothing you can do, you just sit there and take it, you just sit here and try not to rock the boat. Because even if you've fixed the problem, or aren't even the source of the problem at all, God forbid that he sees you actually loving your life, because he'll take that part of you and try to turn it into something ugly, something that's destroying what he has worked so hard for, something you'll feel bad for wanting, doing, needing, enjoying.
Problem is, it's not that bad that I feel I have to run away from home. But sometimes, I am absolutely thisclose to packing.
I hate feeling like I've been grounded. I'm thirty and I can't leave the house. There should be stupider things but I just right now can't think of any.
(Strange then that the book I'm reading while in prison is Beauty by Sheri S. Tepper and in the last chapter I read, her father the Duke of Westfaire locked Beauty up in a dove tower for misbehaving. Hahahahaha. Sigh, at least I still have a sense of humor. Kill me when I lose that completely).
How would you feel if the person who makes you feel this bad is the man who spawned you? And there's nothing you can do, you just sit there and take it, you just sit here and try not to rock the boat. Because even if you've fixed the problem, or aren't even the source of the problem at all, God forbid that he sees you actually loving your life, because he'll take that part of you and try to turn it into something ugly, something that's destroying what he has worked so hard for, something you'll feel bad for wanting, doing, needing, enjoying.
Problem is, it's not that bad that I feel I have to run away from home. But sometimes, I am absolutely thisclose to packing.
I hate feeling like I've been grounded. I'm thirty and I can't leave the house. There should be stupider things but I just right now can't think of any.
(Strange then that the book I'm reading while in prison is Beauty by Sheri S. Tepper and in the last chapter I read, her father the Duke of Westfaire locked Beauty up in a dove tower for misbehaving. Hahahahaha. Sigh, at least I still have a sense of humor. Kill me when I lose that completely).
Friday, January 07, 2005
her majesty, madame lazybottom
The entire Christmas vacation, I was up at nine the latest and prodded myself into productivity: I completed loads upon loads of laundry, I folded the loads of laundry when they dried, I did recital-related stuff before the recital, I baked, I washed dishes, I made coffee. I wouldn't let myself lie in bed more than I had to, I didn't sleep in even if I needed sleep, I didn't do stuff that looked like I wasn't doing anything, like read or watch TV or even stay online long (though I did go online a lot, but then, my net hours were free from midnight till 8 in the morning, who could blame me?
This would be because my Dad is up at four, has gone jogging and back by six and is the busy bee around the house all morning. I don't like to be told that I'm just wasting my life asleep in the mornings, so I try not to be asleep in the morning. Now that we've gone back to the weekday apartment because work has started, I automatically wake up at 6 (and sleep again) then 8 (and sleep again) and finally at 9 and figure out what to do because I've been such a busybody that it's hard to just relax again after getting used to so much productivity.
Today, I woke up at 6 and saw Jacqui getting ready to go to school. I fell asleep again. I woke up at 8 and saw Lucas saving something from the computer (he was standing, meaning he didn't have time to sit down to surf or work, just transfer files perhaps or burning them onto a CD). I fell asleep again. I woke up at 9 to an empty room and the sound of heavy rain. Which I realized was actually running water in the banyo - somebody had forgotten to close the faucet before leaving. I finally got up from bed to shut the water off and watched a little bit of TV. There were a lot of things I thought of doing but I figured I could do them next week - cleaning the bathroom, reading the essays assigned for school, rewriting the statement of the problem for my thesis, productive stuff. While channel surfing, I found myself falling asleep and waking again, dozing off and waking again. I realize it's been a while since I last did that and it felt good.
It's not something I want to do more - I've always been such an irritatingly busy bee, but given a little leisure time, this morning of couch potato-ness was very welcome. Now, I'm going to check my email, read friends' blogs, wash lunch dishes and get ready for ballet class at 5pm. Sounds like a full schedule to me.
This would be because my Dad is up at four, has gone jogging and back by six and is the busy bee around the house all morning. I don't like to be told that I'm just wasting my life asleep in the mornings, so I try not to be asleep in the morning. Now that we've gone back to the weekday apartment because work has started, I automatically wake up at 6 (and sleep again) then 8 (and sleep again) and finally at 9 and figure out what to do because I've been such a busybody that it's hard to just relax again after getting used to so much productivity.
Today, I woke up at 6 and saw Jacqui getting ready to go to school. I fell asleep again. I woke up at 8 and saw Lucas saving something from the computer (he was standing, meaning he didn't have time to sit down to surf or work, just transfer files perhaps or burning them onto a CD). I fell asleep again. I woke up at 9 to an empty room and the sound of heavy rain. Which I realized was actually running water in the banyo - somebody had forgotten to close the faucet before leaving. I finally got up from bed to shut the water off and watched a little bit of TV. There were a lot of things I thought of doing but I figured I could do them next week - cleaning the bathroom, reading the essays assigned for school, rewriting the statement of the problem for my thesis, productive stuff. While channel surfing, I found myself falling asleep and waking again, dozing off and waking again. I realize it's been a while since I last did that and it felt good.
It's not something I want to do more - I've always been such an irritatingly busy bee, but given a little leisure time, this morning of couch potato-ness was very welcome. Now, I'm going to check my email, read friends' blogs, wash lunch dishes and get ready for ballet class at 5pm. Sounds like a full schedule to me.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
partly enjoying a partly jazz night
Went out last night; Lala, Elaine, Jewel and I (with Lala's Karl and Elaine's work friends) watched a jazz gig in Saguijo. We loved Quail Quartet (well, I did, definitely, and the other girls said they did too) and watched the start of Sound; we spent the rest of the night outside talking, as talking in a giddy circle is something you can never stop us from, no matter what situation or occassion. We used to be big Sound fans back in the day, so I guess you can say we tried to watch their set. Okay, maybe not BIG fans, but we went out of our way to watch a couple of gigs a couple years ago and we don't do that for anybody.
We are very upfront about admitting that, back in the day, we found this band very cute. Musically, the most excited about them were Waya and Elaine; I remember thinking they were pretty good but I just wasn't into their genre to be as rabid about them as other people are. But on an aesthetic level, each of us girls had a crush on at least one of them, sometimes two. I thought the percussionist cute; I remember watching my first Sound gig (in Millennia! Talk about back in the day..) and saying so and having Doiks say to me, "Girlfriend niya the model of blah blah blah..." and I retort, "Well, boyfriend ko bassist ng blah blah blah, so sinong pinagyayabangan mo?" (That's how Doiks and I love each other, so very brutal with very little of the cariño.)
It was also at a Sound gig that Waya, Jewel and Elaine were trying to convince me to dump my bassist boyfriend because I may be in love with someone else (long backstory I'm not getting into). That night, said boyfriend was arriving in Manila and I had made myself unavailable to him because I was pissed at him for something. That night, under duress, I kept defending him to my friends, saying "Oh, he's not that bad..." And I didn't break up with him but I was mad at him still and felt vindicated that instead of waiting patiently at home for him to call me that he was in town, I was out making eyes at Sound's oblivious percussion player.
Strange then, that last night I discover something while Lala, Jewel and Elaine and I were discussing how we used to be so smitten by these boys only a couple of years ago: the percussion player kind of looks like said bassist ex-boyfriend. It's not a separated at birth thing, but there are just mannerisms and facial expressions and how deep-set the eyes are. It's uncanny.
I still don't think that it's because they're my type, exactly. Maybe I was transferring, to someone who looked exactly like my source of angst. Or something.
Elaine said something to me at this discovery last night: "You're in a better place, now."
You bet your sweet ass.
The highlight of the night (besides Quail Quartet, no I'm not being biased here) was the four of us hanging out and talking. We had once resolved that we should do things together more, instead of just going out for dinner or lunch or coffee and talking. Last time we tried that, we watched Peter Pan and giggled at how cute Peter Pan is, and found we wished we had more time to talk. And last night, we watch a gig together and end up outside, talking. I'm fine with just talking. Then again, it's not as if anyone can quite shut me up.
We are very upfront about admitting that, back in the day, we found this band very cute. Musically, the most excited about them were Waya and Elaine; I remember thinking they were pretty good but I just wasn't into their genre to be as rabid about them as other people are. But on an aesthetic level, each of us girls had a crush on at least one of them, sometimes two. I thought the percussionist cute; I remember watching my first Sound gig (in Millennia! Talk about back in the day..) and saying so and having Doiks say to me, "Girlfriend niya the model of blah blah blah..." and I retort, "Well, boyfriend ko bassist ng blah blah blah, so sinong pinagyayabangan mo?" (That's how Doiks and I love each other, so very brutal with very little of the cariño.)
It was also at a Sound gig that Waya, Jewel and Elaine were trying to convince me to dump my bassist boyfriend because I may be in love with someone else (long backstory I'm not getting into). That night, said boyfriend was arriving in Manila and I had made myself unavailable to him because I was pissed at him for something. That night, under duress, I kept defending him to my friends, saying "Oh, he's not that bad..." And I didn't break up with him but I was mad at him still and felt vindicated that instead of waiting patiently at home for him to call me that he was in town, I was out making eyes at Sound's oblivious percussion player.
Strange then, that last night I discover something while Lala, Jewel and Elaine and I were discussing how we used to be so smitten by these boys only a couple of years ago: the percussion player kind of looks like said bassist ex-boyfriend. It's not a separated at birth thing, but there are just mannerisms and facial expressions and how deep-set the eyes are. It's uncanny.
I still don't think that it's because they're my type, exactly. Maybe I was transferring, to someone who looked exactly like my source of angst. Or something.
Elaine said something to me at this discovery last night: "You're in a better place, now."
You bet your sweet ass.
The highlight of the night (besides Quail Quartet, no I'm not being biased here) was the four of us hanging out and talking. We had once resolved that we should do things together more, instead of just going out for dinner or lunch or coffee and talking. Last time we tried that, we watched Peter Pan and giggled at how cute Peter Pan is, and found we wished we had more time to talk. And last night, we watch a gig together and end up outside, talking. I'm fine with just talking. Then again, it's not as if anyone can quite shut me up.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
mortality, immortality and Mamia
I chatted with an old student of mine, recently. Old because she was my student maybe nine-ten years ago? Otherwise, she's very young, seventeen I think and she just got into a college, not her first choice but I was very amused that she was happy to get one. I know how she must feel, I was that age, once too.
I think, though, that I was not as mature as she is when I was seventeen. I was rebelling against my father about ballet, I was letting my grades slide and wondering why this should affect my college applications, I was in the process of trying to discern what it meant to be really in love and to find all my previous infatuations wanting. Now that I'm thirty, I'm a lot wiser, but I don't think I'm all that wise, when I think about it. There are lots I still have to figure out.
My ultimate goal in life is to be like Mamia, in her seventies, doing whatever she wants, coming and going as she pleases. Mamia never sweats the small stuff, beautifies everything around her and always looks good. I always thought she was the best example of someone who knew what she wanted out of life, got it and is still enjoying it, whatever it is. She's immortal.
During Christmas dinner at my Mamia's, I noticed something I never quite noticed before. Mamia seemed old to me. Old, as in she wasn't her usual perky self harassing everyone to eat, and then to eat more. She was always sitting down somewhere, just smiling and not joining in the conversation. When she got up to move around, she was limping. She fell while shopping recently and hurt her hip. She hadn't quite bounced back yet, I suppose. I'm thinking it's more than her hip, it's watching all the people she knows from her generation passing on before her. She's one of the youngest, so it's unavoidable, but it's got to be hard.
When I gave her a hug after distributing all the gifts from the tree (I was the distributor, not her), she said, "You have to come back here this week because I can't find yung regalo ko sa iyo (my gift to you)." I told her, "I'm too old to get gifts." And she hissed and clucked at me and seemed to be her old self again.
Tonight (well, last night, technically) is her and my Lolo's 52nd wedding anniversary. My Lolo isn't here, but he hardly is anyway, and we had dinner in Mamia's house like we always do (except on the 50th, when they threw this huge party for the two of them in Intramuros). She found my gift, it was a set of three panties. She's always giving me underwear, I wonder if she's worried that I lose them.
She seemed in better spirits tonight than over Christmas and New Year, but that feeling of wanting to hug her all the time didn't go away. You can tell what I'm worried about, and I don't verbalize it, but in a conversation earlier, she verbalized it for me: she related how she and Tita Nena (my mom's tita, but I can't call her Lola if I don't call my grandmother Lola either, now can I) were talking about how they keep worrying about dying, these days. Tita Nena's husband died recently (Did someone close to you die in 2004? Not close to me, but someone close to my Mamia did, and it was sad.) and so I guess they're both thinking about their mortality a lot. Mamia even thought she was having a stroke the other day, but it turned out to be just a muscle pain because she keeps her money in her bra and perhaps the billfold was too large?
Mamia had often said, she's still alive because mala hierba nunca muere (bad grass never dies). That sureness of invincibility has somehow become less sure, though, and it worries me. Not to a great degree, but it does.
Mommy told Mamia tonight about how I said I looked like her in a photograph taken of me recently (y'all know the story). Mamia was amusedly chuckling at the retelling and I piped up with, "Daddy said, 'Ang kapal mo, sino naman ang nagsabi sa yo na maganda ka?' And I said, 'Ako, bakit?'" And Mamia said, "Aba, ako rin." And Mommy said, "Buhay pa ang lola mo, hindi ka kailangan magbuhat ng bangko."
Buhay pa ang lola ko. May this be so for a long, long time.
I think, though, that I was not as mature as she is when I was seventeen. I was rebelling against my father about ballet, I was letting my grades slide and wondering why this should affect my college applications, I was in the process of trying to discern what it meant to be really in love and to find all my previous infatuations wanting. Now that I'm thirty, I'm a lot wiser, but I don't think I'm all that wise, when I think about it. There are lots I still have to figure out.
My ultimate goal in life is to be like Mamia, in her seventies, doing whatever she wants, coming and going as she pleases. Mamia never sweats the small stuff, beautifies everything around her and always looks good. I always thought she was the best example of someone who knew what she wanted out of life, got it and is still enjoying it, whatever it is. She's immortal.
During Christmas dinner at my Mamia's, I noticed something I never quite noticed before. Mamia seemed old to me. Old, as in she wasn't her usual perky self harassing everyone to eat, and then to eat more. She was always sitting down somewhere, just smiling and not joining in the conversation. When she got up to move around, she was limping. She fell while shopping recently and hurt her hip. She hadn't quite bounced back yet, I suppose. I'm thinking it's more than her hip, it's watching all the people she knows from her generation passing on before her. She's one of the youngest, so it's unavoidable, but it's got to be hard.
When I gave her a hug after distributing all the gifts from the tree (I was the distributor, not her), she said, "You have to come back here this week because I can't find yung regalo ko sa iyo (my gift to you)." I told her, "I'm too old to get gifts." And she hissed and clucked at me and seemed to be her old self again.
Tonight (well, last night, technically) is her and my Lolo's 52nd wedding anniversary. My Lolo isn't here, but he hardly is anyway, and we had dinner in Mamia's house like we always do (except on the 50th, when they threw this huge party for the two of them in Intramuros). She found my gift, it was a set of three panties. She's always giving me underwear, I wonder if she's worried that I lose them.
She seemed in better spirits tonight than over Christmas and New Year, but that feeling of wanting to hug her all the time didn't go away. You can tell what I'm worried about, and I don't verbalize it, but in a conversation earlier, she verbalized it for me: she related how she and Tita Nena (my mom's tita, but I can't call her Lola if I don't call my grandmother Lola either, now can I) were talking about how they keep worrying about dying, these days. Tita Nena's husband died recently (Did someone close to you die in 2004? Not close to me, but someone close to my Mamia did, and it was sad.) and so I guess they're both thinking about their mortality a lot. Mamia even thought she was having a stroke the other day, but it turned out to be just a muscle pain because she keeps her money in her bra and perhaps the billfold was too large?
Mamia had often said, she's still alive because mala hierba nunca muere (bad grass never dies). That sureness of invincibility has somehow become less sure, though, and it worries me. Not to a great degree, but it does.
Mommy told Mamia tonight about how I said I looked like her in a photograph taken of me recently (y'all know the story). Mamia was amusedly chuckling at the retelling and I piped up with, "Daddy said, 'Ang kapal mo, sino naman ang nagsabi sa yo na maganda ka?' And I said, 'Ako, bakit?'" And Mamia said, "Aba, ako rin." And Mommy said, "Buhay pa ang lola mo, hindi ka kailangan magbuhat ng bangko."
Buhay pa ang lola ko. May this be so for a long, long time.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
goodbye, sex and the city!
In my Here's To 2004 meme five posts ago, I failed to include Sex And The City as one of my favorite television programs of the year. I guess it must have been because I was trying to think back to all of 2004 and didn't think that the present favorite show was applicable. Also, I guess I must have been watching this show so religiously that it doesn't seem a favorite of the year, more like a favorite for the last six years.
I really feel bad about it ending, I really do. But I suppose they had to quit while they were ahead, most importantly because you know what I noticed while watching the last few episodes? They all look so old. I'm serious. Even Steve looks old. And I think they buckled down and gave Mr. Big a name finally because he looks really old, not quite the suave Mr. Big that became such a paragon over the years anymore. Then again, they all look good even when old (I'm talking about the girls) and Miranda more so now than she did at the start of the show, so maybe that's not so bad. I know that I want to still look as good as I do today when I'm in my early forties, more than ten years from now, and still somehow gorgeous in my fifties, sixties and seventies. It's promising.
If you were to ask me any time during the last five seasons who my favorite boy from Sex and the City was, I would have said Big or Steve, if I was pissed off at Big. I really like Steve, as in I was soooo mad at Miranda lots of times for how she handled their relationship throughout the show and thought it was too easy for them to get back together after all the hoops she put him through, but I'm glad it ended the way it did. And Big is, well, Big. He's the man for Carrie, simple as that. But, that was any time during the last five seasons.
In the sixth season, they gave Samantha a boy she cannot push away - Smith Jerrod. I first liked him for his looks, now I definitely love him for the guy he turned out to be. He has such a beautiful heart, it's amazing! And he loves Samantha so unconditionally that he's willing to be patient and put up with all her qualms about relationships and appearances and, well, everything. He just wants to be with her and he wants to make her happy. Aaaaaaah. Plus he's great in bed. Had to put that in before I forget.
I never related to Samantha before - she was too over the top for me, no matter how supposedly sexually liberated I'm supposed to be, there's a big prude in me that won't even say certain words or like going down or sleep with any random men without a second thought. I'm not that sure of my sexiness that I would go seducing any guy I fancy, and even when I find out that I probably would be successful doing so, I end up with very conservative, very self-preservative feelings. So, even if she's the character that makes me laugh the most, I am not Samantha. Lots of times, I'm Carrie, sometimes I'm Miranda, less times than that I'm Charlotte, but never Samantha. And when I watch Kim Cattral do what she does best, I laugh and think "Fran would do that...(Fran is actually both Samantha and Charlotte, strange but true)" or "That is SOOOO Waya."
And then here was Samantha trying to resist being in a relationship with Smith Jerrod and I'm like, well, relating. And I love, I absolutely love how all her resistance isn't scaring him away, like how he waited for her even if she ran off with Richard, how he shaved his head when Samantha's hair was falling out, how he persisted in assuring her that he wanted to have sex only with her when she lost her sex drive.
I wasn't resisting as extremely as Samantha was, but I recognize the persistence and the succumbing. And I'm glad they gave Samantha someone to love her, and someone to love. Another promising thing for supposed hopeless cases like me.
I really feel bad about it ending, I really do. But I suppose they had to quit while they were ahead, most importantly because you know what I noticed while watching the last few episodes? They all look so old. I'm serious. Even Steve looks old. And I think they buckled down and gave Mr. Big a name finally because he looks really old, not quite the suave Mr. Big that became such a paragon over the years anymore. Then again, they all look good even when old (I'm talking about the girls) and Miranda more so now than she did at the start of the show, so maybe that's not so bad. I know that I want to still look as good as I do today when I'm in my early forties, more than ten years from now, and still somehow gorgeous in my fifties, sixties and seventies. It's promising.
If you were to ask me any time during the last five seasons who my favorite boy from Sex and the City was, I would have said Big or Steve, if I was pissed off at Big. I really like Steve, as in I was soooo mad at Miranda lots of times for how she handled their relationship throughout the show and thought it was too easy for them to get back together after all the hoops she put him through, but I'm glad it ended the way it did. And Big is, well, Big. He's the man for Carrie, simple as that. But, that was any time during the last five seasons.
In the sixth season, they gave Samantha a boy she cannot push away - Smith Jerrod. I first liked him for his looks, now I definitely love him for the guy he turned out to be. He has such a beautiful heart, it's amazing! And he loves Samantha so unconditionally that he's willing to be patient and put up with all her qualms about relationships and appearances and, well, everything. He just wants to be with her and he wants to make her happy. Aaaaaaah. Plus he's great in bed. Had to put that in before I forget.
I never related to Samantha before - she was too over the top for me, no matter how supposedly sexually liberated I'm supposed to be, there's a big prude in me that won't even say certain words or like going down or sleep with any random men without a second thought. I'm not that sure of my sexiness that I would go seducing any guy I fancy, and even when I find out that I probably would be successful doing so, I end up with very conservative, very self-preservative feelings. So, even if she's the character that makes me laugh the most, I am not Samantha. Lots of times, I'm Carrie, sometimes I'm Miranda, less times than that I'm Charlotte, but never Samantha. And when I watch Kim Cattral do what she does best, I laugh and think "Fran would do that...(Fran is actually both Samantha and Charlotte, strange but true)" or "That is SOOOO Waya."
And then here was Samantha trying to resist being in a relationship with Smith Jerrod and I'm like, well, relating. And I love, I absolutely love how all her resistance isn't scaring him away, like how he waited for her even if she ran off with Richard, how he shaved his head when Samantha's hair was falling out, how he persisted in assuring her that he wanted to have sex only with her when she lost her sex drive.
I wasn't resisting as extremely as Samantha was, but I recognize the persistence and the succumbing. And I'm glad they gave Samantha someone to love her, and someone to love. Another promising thing for supposed hopeless cases like me.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
three is the magic number
I've actually answered most of these before but they're on LJ. And there are new questions. And I am now in a different state of mind. And Lala said I was going to die painfully if I didn't answer this. And it's a new year. Do I really need an excuse to retake this quiz? Thought not.
THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Joelle
2. Joe
3. Springs
THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. badgoodgirl
2. screamer
3. Joelle Jacinto (if we think of it as screen name like for my profession, what my fans know me as. ... t'ngina, kapal, hehe.)
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. i can jump high
2. i get smarter and smarter everyday
3. i take special care doing stuff so that things can be perfect
THREE THINGS YOU HATE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. i have the quickest temper and an even faster mouth
2. i spread myself too thin
3. I shop compulsively and wonder where my hard earned money went(Lala said it the best, so I decided to leave that there as it soooo applies to me)
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. Bisaya
2. Tagalog
3. Chinese
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. slimy amphibians and reptiles who are very mobile
2. scary movies
3. unfamiliar places
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. coffee
2. chips
3. lots of sleep
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. the shirt I wore to dinner last night, a pink printed frilly number that doesn't look girly on me for some strange reason
2. my baby blue ballet shorts
3. blue underwear that says "beautiful blue" and has a butterfly on the crotch, very pretty!
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR ARTISTS:
1. Blind Melon
2. Razorback
3. Tony Bennett
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS AT PRESENT:
1. Breathe In - Frou Frou
2. I Only Have Eyes For You
3. Paper Scratcher - Blind Melon
THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS
1. i want to try to be more patient with my father
2. i want to try learning a new foreign language or perfecting one i've begun to learn already
3. i want to finish my novel... or at least write half of it. at the very least.
hmm, none of those are new. tough.
THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. to intrigue and interest and beguile each other constantly and unceasingly
2. happiness
3. the unexpected
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE:
1. i think religion should be a personal thing and to each his own
2. i'm legally blind
3. i hate mushrooms
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. broad shoulders
2. sharp cheekbones
3. beautiful hands
THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO:
1. add two-digit numbers and higher in my head
2. forgive easily
3. eat any spicy food except wasabi
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. blogging
2. baking
3. reading(dancing isn't here because it's not just a hobby to me, it's my raison d'etre)
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. beach bum
2. bake (though i'm thinking this is a fad that will fade soon)
3. get a long, strong hug
THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
1. prima ballerina
2. college professor
3. fiction writer
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. any beach
2. Greece
3. Mallorca
THREE KIDS' NAMES:
1. Mauro
2. Guillermo
3. Caridad - actually this is compulsory because I had convinced Leslie to name her kid Fe and in turn I have to name mine Caridad. We'll see.
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. stay happy and in love for a very long time
2. finish both books in my head, hopefully more
3. dance juliet and/or giselle
THREE PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO TAKE THIS QUIZ NOW OR DIE PAINFULLY:
1.
2.
3. wow, I don't wish that on anyone. But if you did take this quiz and post it anywhere online, lemme know :)
THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Joelle
2. Joe
3. Springs
THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. badgoodgirl
2. screamer
3. Joelle Jacinto (if we think of it as screen name like for my profession, what my fans know me as. ... t'ngina, kapal, hehe.)
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. i can jump high
2. i get smarter and smarter everyday
3. i take special care doing stuff so that things can be perfect
THREE THINGS YOU HATE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. i have the quickest temper and an even faster mouth
2. i spread myself too thin
3. I shop compulsively and wonder where my hard earned money went(Lala said it the best, so I decided to leave that there as it soooo applies to me)
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. Bisaya
2. Tagalog
3. Chinese
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. slimy amphibians and reptiles who are very mobile
2. scary movies
3. unfamiliar places
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. coffee
2. chips
3. lots of sleep
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. the shirt I wore to dinner last night, a pink printed frilly number that doesn't look girly on me for some strange reason
2. my baby blue ballet shorts
3. blue underwear that says "beautiful blue" and has a butterfly on the crotch, very pretty!
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR ARTISTS:
1. Blind Melon
2. Razorback
3. Tony Bennett
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS AT PRESENT:
1. Breathe In - Frou Frou
2. I Only Have Eyes For You
3. Paper Scratcher - Blind Melon
THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS
1. i want to try to be more patient with my father
2. i want to try learning a new foreign language or perfecting one i've begun to learn already
3. i want to finish my novel... or at least write half of it. at the very least.
hmm, none of those are new. tough.
THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. to intrigue and interest and beguile each other constantly and unceasingly
2. happiness
3. the unexpected
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE:
1. i think religion should be a personal thing and to each his own
2. i'm legally blind
3. i hate mushrooms
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. broad shoulders
2. sharp cheekbones
3. beautiful hands
THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO:
1. add two-digit numbers and higher in my head
2. forgive easily
3. eat any spicy food except wasabi
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. blogging
2. baking
3. reading(dancing isn't here because it's not just a hobby to me, it's my raison d'etre)
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. beach bum
2. bake (though i'm thinking this is a fad that will fade soon)
3. get a long, strong hug
THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
1. prima ballerina
2. college professor
3. fiction writer
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. any beach
2. Greece
3. Mallorca
THREE KIDS' NAMES:
1. Mauro
2. Guillermo
3. Caridad - actually this is compulsory because I had convinced Leslie to name her kid Fe and in turn I have to name mine Caridad. We'll see.
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. stay happy and in love for a very long time
2. finish both books in my head, hopefully more
3. dance juliet and/or giselle
THREE PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO TAKE THIS QUIZ NOW OR DIE PAINFULLY:
1.
2.
3. wow, I don't wish that on anyone. But if you did take this quiz and post it anywhere online, lemme know :)
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