Ianne tagged me for this one... it's 5:30 AM and I just got home from a set-up for an exhibit in Greenbelt 3. And I can't help myself... So here it is...
*******
Tagged! This is what you are supposed to do. Cut and paste if you decide to participate in the tagging game.
Each player of this game starts off by giving six weird things about themselves. People who get tagged need to write in a blog of their own six weird things as well as state the rules clearly. In the end, you need to choose six people to be tagged and list their names.
After you do that, leave them each a comment letting them know you tagged them and to read your blog.
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1. I am addicted to playing chess in my phone. And I hate losing yet I would impose a touch-move rule on myself all the time, half the time, I would have myself check-mated to hasten the game.
2. I don't eat cheese. I hate cheese. Of any kind... except mozarella on pizza occasionally (rarely).
3. My record in chatting in MIRC is 76 hours and 30 minutes of non-stop chatting without solid food and sleep. Thing is, it was in a cafe that charges sixty pesos an hour and the cafe was open for 24 hours a day.
4. You can leave me inside a homestore the whole afternoon and find me still lingering there closing time. The maximum time I would spend inside a clothes shop is 30 minutes.
5. I like to walk. Walking for me is one effective way in easing stress. When I was working in Budji, I would walk from Reposo to Rustan's in Ayala almost everyday. Thrice I have walked from Galleria to WackWack via Shaw.
6. My complete name is Gwyn Gunder Salazar Guanzon. I don't know what my parents were thinking when they gave me the name.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Saturday, May 19, 2007
excited and scared...
I resigned from Summit Publishing last December. I resigned from the company yet not resigning from work really.
It has been five months that I have been working as consultant. Basically the same work as I have been doing when I was still an employee. The best thing about it is that I am not required to press my thumb before entering the office on that machine which has a british accent. And yes, I am not 'required' to go to the office every single working day of the week.
A month later after having such status, I became consultant of another magazine. My non-requirement of going to the office every single working day became moot. I now go to Summit not because of some time-keeping requirement but because I need to-- it's work.
And thinking that I am officially a non-employee, projects sprout from all sides. I have developed branches and yes, twigs. Admittedly, I got excited with what the future holds for me now. When I was an employee, I had this bubble around me and everybody had this notion that all I do is style for the magazine. The bubble stopped me from doing other things yet at the same time, protected me from doing things I don't want to do. I got excited with what the future holds for me... excited and scared. The bubble is not there anymore.
Yet I get to explore more things. Soon, I will be entering another realm in media. I can still continue interior decorating. I can still style for magazines. I wonder what quality time is left for me after all these.
"Excited and scared.." as Little Red Riding Hood puts it in Into the Woods. She continues with, "Isn't it nice to know a lot. And a little bit not!"
It has been five months that I have been working as consultant. Basically the same work as I have been doing when I was still an employee. The best thing about it is that I am not required to press my thumb before entering the office on that machine which has a british accent. And yes, I am not 'required' to go to the office every single working day of the week.
A month later after having such status, I became consultant of another magazine. My non-requirement of going to the office every single working day became moot. I now go to Summit not because of some time-keeping requirement but because I need to-- it's work.
And thinking that I am officially a non-employee, projects sprout from all sides. I have developed branches and yes, twigs. Admittedly, I got excited with what the future holds for me now. When I was an employee, I had this bubble around me and everybody had this notion that all I do is style for the magazine. The bubble stopped me from doing other things yet at the same time, protected me from doing things I don't want to do. I got excited with what the future holds for me... excited and scared. The bubble is not there anymore.
Yet I get to explore more things. Soon, I will be entering another realm in media. I can still continue interior decorating. I can still style for magazines. I wonder what quality time is left for me after all these.
"Excited and scared.." as Little Red Riding Hood puts it in Into the Woods. She continues with, "Isn't it nice to know a lot. And a little bit not!"
Monday, April 30, 2007
taken for granted...
It was the time one of the aunties came from the states and all of the nephews and neices went to her house to pay their respects and expect some pasalubong. You get to follow the queue leading to the visiting aunt. When it was your turn to kiss, no single pasalubong was given to you.
It is your Citzen's Army Training Officers distribution of designations and positions. You are one of those who got the higher ten percentile in the training exam. You scanned the list. Found your name in the bottom part-- Color Officer. All of your friends became company commanders.
During college, you wanted to be part of an organization. You went through the usual process of application. Did everything the members required. Came induction, from the eight applicants left, you are one of the two who did not become full fledged members but was given another year of training as apprentice.
Professionally, you are doing okay in your job. Your colleagues respect your work. Came a memo from the Human Resource Department, they don't even know your exact gender.
You are seeing this person for quite sometime knowing fully well that you might just deserve somebody better whom you can call yours. And then both of you went out of town-- on separate flights and destinations. Upon returning to Manila, you got to miss the person terribly. While the vacation the other took became a week longer than yours, it got extended another week in another destination. And finally, the day came when both of you are here in Manila yet you can't meet each other because of some schedule glitch yet on your part, you have kept the entire night's schedule open... somehow.
Now, tell me, have you had similar incidents? Have you ever been taken for granted?
It is your Citzen's Army Training Officers distribution of designations and positions. You are one of those who got the higher ten percentile in the training exam. You scanned the list. Found your name in the bottom part-- Color Officer. All of your friends became company commanders.
During college, you wanted to be part of an organization. You went through the usual process of application. Did everything the members required. Came induction, from the eight applicants left, you are one of the two who did not become full fledged members but was given another year of training as apprentice.
Professionally, you are doing okay in your job. Your colleagues respect your work. Came a memo from the Human Resource Department, they don't even know your exact gender.
You are seeing this person for quite sometime knowing fully well that you might just deserve somebody better whom you can call yours. And then both of you went out of town-- on separate flights and destinations. Upon returning to Manila, you got to miss the person terribly. While the vacation the other took became a week longer than yours, it got extended another week in another destination. And finally, the day came when both of you are here in Manila yet you can't meet each other because of some schedule glitch yet on your part, you have kept the entire night's schedule open... somehow.
Now, tell me, have you had similar incidents? Have you ever been taken for granted?
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Thank you ...
"When I die, gusto ko ganito ang posisyon ko ... " Ogie JulianoIt was one of our jokes before during Sanfo days. I got to see the Buddha a month before he passed away.
I did not have the courage to tell the family about it.
I was reading Dennis Marasigan's article in Inquirer on my dear friend Ogie Juliano and I can't help but break down to tears.
It has been exactly a week when his urn was put to rest at the Columbarium along Visayas Avenue beside Ma'am J's. And it has been a week that I have been trying hard to live as normal as I can- trying to catch up from the days I lost two weeks ago. As Carlo puts it, "I look a lot better now as compared to last week."
To a lot of people, Ogie is my 'Inay' in theatre. Well, he was my mentor and more than that, he was a dear friend.
It was when Ogie was staging Kangkong 1896 when we got really close. We started out as coffee friends in Sanfo along West Avenue. Then being the student that I was, he would almost always shoulder the bill after. Then he would treat me for buffet breakfast. Then he would give me different projects as his assistant in costume design. It was hard working for Ogie. He was the most demanding boss I ever had. I remembered being slapped more than once. He threw a mug at me more than once. Shouted at me countless times. And I cried to him shamelessly several times brought about by different reasons. At times, we would have arguments and I would end up walking out. And a few hours after that, he would page me to accompany him for dinner. And I can not refuse.
For how many instances that Ogie would whine about the loves of his life. Sing Bette Middler like there is no tomorrow. One memorable evening was during the eve of the opening of Elias at Salome, Ogie and I were drenched under the rain infront of the Faculty Center drunk in lambanog singing As Long as He Needs Me. For a time, when Ogie is around, Gwyn is there. It went on for a good three years.
Not only in costuming, he also taught me how to do stage make-up. He gave me my first major project in make-up design- the opening ceremonies of the UAAP. I designed one hundred and thirty faces and about thirty bodies. It was almost impossible but he told me I can do it. He also assigned me to style, design and execute sets for different productions. And for more than once, I told him I can't do it simply because I am not yet equipped with the knowledge and he just brushed it aside and looked at me and said "You can't say no to your mother!"
And yes, at the point of giving up, he will guide me on what to do. He was always there. He taught me to believe in myself and do the impossible (impossible meaning lack of budget.) And at the end of the day, he would congratulate me saying that he was so proud of me.
It was during his last days that we were not able to see each other as often as before. One of the last times I saw him, he scolded me for visiting him- I had a show to catch. It was then I told myself that he doesn't want to be seen sick. I knew him too be invincible and it was painful seeing him helpless. Much painful for him for us seeing him.
It has been a week since I last saw his urn making his last bow inside Guerrero Theatre. I wanted to kiss him that moment yet I can't. I rushed to the backstage and cry alone when they were bringing him out. I can't see him leave the place where he trained me.
It has been a week. I was not able to tell him how thankful I am as an apprentice and as a friend. How thankful for his teachings, for the company and for the unselfish love he gave.
Thank you Inay. Thank you.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
movie quotes....
I'm sorry Carl, after reading your blog I can't help but to try it.
And yes, the first one that appeared was this... how can I possibly resist?!?!
and yes... this one too...
and finally..
And yes, the first one that appeared was this... how can I possibly resist?!?!
I have always depended on the kindness of Gwyn.
and yes... this one too...
Nobody puts Gwyn in a corner.
and finally..
All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my Gwyn.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
requiem...
Vaudeville. Bodabil.
That was the last show of Ogie.
It was Saturday evening when Harlene tried to call me. I was not able to take the call. Two minutes later I got three missed calls-from Ricci, Stella and an unknown number. I tried to call Harlene.
"Gwyn, wala na si inay..."
This was cut by sobs. For a few minutes, I missed the entire thing. Or maybe I was just in denial. Or both. I can't really tell. A few minutes later, Stella texted me that the body will be brought to Loyola crematorium. Harlene called me if I am going and I said, I will just go the following day. She again broke into sobs, "Ayaw mo na bang makita si inay?"
For the life of me, I really don't know how to answer it. Yes I want to see Ogie before the cremation. But I guess, I saw him already how he wanted me to see him. And definitely not on that table.
The whole time, the idea has not settled yet in my mind.
By ten, Stella texted me that the cremation was done already. Ricci called that he is picking me up to go to Loyola. We got there shorty after ten. Almost all of my 'siblings' were there. Jovy had me sit beside him and read the message of Alex Cortez. I was assigned to design the stage of Guerrero Theatre for the necrological service and tribute to be done Wednesday, four days after.
Come Monday, I went to Dulaang UP. It was Tony Mabesa who told me after the meeting, "Well, your mother is already dead, but your grandmother is still alive!" And it was decided, I'll take care of the stage after being the only design offspring of Ogie.
I went to Dangwa to talk to my florists that afternoon. With Wilan volunteering to be my driver for two days, we went to Divisoria the following day to buy fabric to be used as props. I arrived inside Guerrero at about three in the afternoon.
It was then when I found out that only the students were there. The lights and sounds people were crippled from working because of some protocol of the Dulaang UP system (or the lack of it, rather). It was a good thing that my Technical Director was very efficient that all of the curtains were hung before the first (and last) rehearsals at six in the evening. The blinking marquee to be flown onstage was raised right after the rehearsals at about eleven. That time, I told myself, I will only have the flowers to worry tomorrow.
Lloyd picked me from UP that night. We went to Loyola and saw a number of friends again.
It was this morning, Wednesday, that emotions got the better of me. While I was rushing things to be completely done, I was trying to organize my costume for the said show. This was done with intervals of tear bursts. It was then I realized that the whole thing is just surreal.
We are doing a full show with two days preparation. And the said show is for my 'mother'. His last show.
The mass started promptly one in the afternoon then the tribute after. It went on smoothly as possible. Technically, it was almost perfect. The backstage crew operated with precision and descipline. Yet, amongst the performers, no amount of concealer can cover grief.
It started with a very upbeat dance and song numbers just like how Mabesa wanted it-to be like a Vaudeville. Readings of letters of faculty members who are abroad. A zarzuela duet, speeches from theatre icons, a video of stills, a solo dance and a solo vocal, capped with a drag show. It was during the the finale that almost everybody broke into tears while watching us who are teary eyed trying so hard to be funny.
The curtain call shifted to the audience area where Ogie was put. Confetti of petals and a standing ovation.
It was then I fully realized that my mentor is gone already. The person who is responsible in putting me where I am now. In whom I thank my entire career for.
It was then I got to grasp that Ogie is dead. Though I am not sure if I have fully accepted it until now. I think I should. As if I still have other options...
I am listening to one of his CDs right now-At Last by Cindy Lauper... it is playing "On the Sunny Side of the Street."
That was the last show of Ogie.
It was Saturday evening when Harlene tried to call me. I was not able to take the call. Two minutes later I got three missed calls-from Ricci, Stella and an unknown number. I tried to call Harlene.
"Gwyn, wala na si inay..."
This was cut by sobs. For a few minutes, I missed the entire thing. Or maybe I was just in denial. Or both. I can't really tell. A few minutes later, Stella texted me that the body will be brought to Loyola crematorium. Harlene called me if I am going and I said, I will just go the following day. She again broke into sobs, "Ayaw mo na bang makita si inay?"
For the life of me, I really don't know how to answer it. Yes I want to see Ogie before the cremation. But I guess, I saw him already how he wanted me to see him. And definitely not on that table.
The whole time, the idea has not settled yet in my mind.
By ten, Stella texted me that the cremation was done already. Ricci called that he is picking me up to go to Loyola. We got there shorty after ten. Almost all of my 'siblings' were there. Jovy had me sit beside him and read the message of Alex Cortez. I was assigned to design the stage of Guerrero Theatre for the necrological service and tribute to be done Wednesday, four days after.
Come Monday, I went to Dulaang UP. It was Tony Mabesa who told me after the meeting, "Well, your mother is already dead, but your grandmother is still alive!" And it was decided, I'll take care of the stage after being the only design offspring of Ogie.
I went to Dangwa to talk to my florists that afternoon. With Wilan volunteering to be my driver for two days, we went to Divisoria the following day to buy fabric to be used as props. I arrived inside Guerrero at about three in the afternoon.
It was then when I found out that only the students were there. The lights and sounds people were crippled from working because of some protocol of the Dulaang UP system (or the lack of it, rather). It was a good thing that my Technical Director was very efficient that all of the curtains were hung before the first (and last) rehearsals at six in the evening. The blinking marquee to be flown onstage was raised right after the rehearsals at about eleven. That time, I told myself, I will only have the flowers to worry tomorrow.
Lloyd picked me from UP that night. We went to Loyola and saw a number of friends again.
It was this morning, Wednesday, that emotions got the better of me. While I was rushing things to be completely done, I was trying to organize my costume for the said show. This was done with intervals of tear bursts. It was then I realized that the whole thing is just surreal.
We are doing a full show with two days preparation. And the said show is for my 'mother'. His last show.
The mass started promptly one in the afternoon then the tribute after. It went on smoothly as possible. Technically, it was almost perfect. The backstage crew operated with precision and descipline. Yet, amongst the performers, no amount of concealer can cover grief.
It started with a very upbeat dance and song numbers just like how Mabesa wanted it-to be like a Vaudeville. Readings of letters of faculty members who are abroad. A zarzuela duet, speeches from theatre icons, a video of stills, a solo dance and a solo vocal, capped with a drag show. It was during the the finale that almost everybody broke into tears while watching us who are teary eyed trying so hard to be funny.
The curtain call shifted to the audience area where Ogie was put. Confetti of petals and a standing ovation.
It was then I fully realized that my mentor is gone already. The person who is responsible in putting me where I am now. In whom I thank my entire career for.
It was then I got to grasp that Ogie is dead. Though I am not sure if I have fully accepted it until now. I think I should. As if I still have other options...
I am listening to one of his CDs right now-At Last by Cindy Lauper... it is playing "On the Sunny Side of the Street."
Sunday, April 08, 2007
For Ogie... 1961-2007
I am reposting this entry...
Ogie passed away yesterday, April 7.
Let us start with my mentor in college.
Not a lot of people like this person really. He landed in the pages of a national daily because of some atrocious accusation of a student. Personally, the accusations are not far from happening but not to this accuser. I can tell, I was the one who replaced him when he walked out. Then again, nothing came out of it primarily because it was all hype. Apart from the trauma of being publicly tried, status quo remained, and my mentor continued on teaching in the university.
His name is Ogie Juliano. We first met when I enrolled in his class in acting 1. During that time, I was already part of the cast of the play being directed by his mentor- Tony Mabesa. So the pressure in his class was greater than a regular student would feel. He was directing another play also during that time that our class was required to audition to. You're only exempted when you are already part of other plays, exempli gratia, me. More pressure. I was his favorite example in class, being 'the Mabesa actor' and 'the one who refused to act under him'.
In the middle of the semester, we became really good friends. Though I'm not part of his play, after our rehearsals, I will go to his shows. Dinner everynight. Apparently, my status during that time was 'student' or make it- 'struggling student' err... 'struggling, starving student'. I was your all time free loader almost everynight. And when I get honorarium from the plays I acted in, I treat him for dinner. That usually is after every two months. Almost like the blue moon.
I eventually acted in his plays. But the more important thing that he thought me was not about acting. He took me as an apprentice on design. Specifically costuming. He was the one who taught me how a medieval cloak's cut would differ from that of the victorian's. How the cut of the skirts changed through centuries. He taught me that a panuelo is there to cover the breasts and not wearing a tapis is unbecoming of a lady during the turn of the century Manila.
"Wala naman ksi silang panty nun kaya eto na yung pantakip para di liparin ang palda." He further stressed, "Kaya yung mga bisaya na patadyong lang, bastos yun!"
His designs remained well studied and carefully crafted. A teacher with masters in theatre, he continues to study the details and admits that he has still a lot to learn. And each time he drafts a scheme, he explains why it is so. From colors, to cuts, to fringes, to accessories. Not a single detail left unexplained. There will always be a reason why each single thread is there in a single piece of costume. Most importantly, he taught me that I can only do that if (and only if) I put my heart on it. Treating it as a job will be a sin.
"My work is personal. That is how I operate. In no way one can make a good design if he doesn't put his heart into it."
I understand him now. Now that I'm on my own. I still falter a lot of times. Yet thankful, at least I know how to make it right.
Ogie passed away yesterday, April 7.
Let us start with my mentor in college.
Not a lot of people like this person really. He landed in the pages of a national daily because of some atrocious accusation of a student. Personally, the accusations are not far from happening but not to this accuser. I can tell, I was the one who replaced him when he walked out. Then again, nothing came out of it primarily because it was all hype. Apart from the trauma of being publicly tried, status quo remained, and my mentor continued on teaching in the university.
His name is Ogie Juliano. We first met when I enrolled in his class in acting 1. During that time, I was already part of the cast of the play being directed by his mentor- Tony Mabesa. So the pressure in his class was greater than a regular student would feel. He was directing another play also during that time that our class was required to audition to. You're only exempted when you are already part of other plays, exempli gratia, me. More pressure. I was his favorite example in class, being 'the Mabesa actor' and 'the one who refused to act under him'.
In the middle of the semester, we became really good friends. Though I'm not part of his play, after our rehearsals, I will go to his shows. Dinner everynight. Apparently, my status during that time was 'student' or make it- 'struggling student' err... 'struggling, starving student'. I was your all time free loader almost everynight. And when I get honorarium from the plays I acted in, I treat him for dinner. That usually is after every two months. Almost like the blue moon.
I eventually acted in his plays. But the more important thing that he thought me was not about acting. He took me as an apprentice on design. Specifically costuming. He was the one who taught me how a medieval cloak's cut would differ from that of the victorian's. How the cut of the skirts changed through centuries. He taught me that a panuelo is there to cover the breasts and not wearing a tapis is unbecoming of a lady during the turn of the century Manila.
"Wala naman ksi silang panty nun kaya eto na yung pantakip para di liparin ang palda." He further stressed, "Kaya yung mga bisaya na patadyong lang, bastos yun!"
His designs remained well studied and carefully crafted. A teacher with masters in theatre, he continues to study the details and admits that he has still a lot to learn. And each time he drafts a scheme, he explains why it is so. From colors, to cuts, to fringes, to accessories. Not a single detail left unexplained. There will always be a reason why each single thread is there in a single piece of costume. Most importantly, he taught me that I can only do that if (and only if) I put my heart on it. Treating it as a job will be a sin.
"My work is personal. That is how I operate. In no way one can make a good design if he doesn't put his heart into it."
I understand him now. Now that I'm on my own. I still falter a lot of times. Yet thankful, at least I know how to make it right.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
the count dracula in me...
It has been a year since I started writing blogs. I remember the first entry was about the Holy Week. It has been a year that I have been pouring my cares fearlessly in the net.
It has been two years since I moved here in my unit. It was Holy Week when I signed the contract two years ago. And I have decided to stay here another year. Signed the new contract last week.
It has been a two weeks that I have not been to the gym. It has been two weeks that I have been nursing this cough and the fear of an impending fever. And I finally said enough, I have to take amox 500 to kill whatever virus that has been starting to infest my system. Though the other side of me says that the virus has another name-- overworking. Damn, what's the drug for that?
It has been twenty years since I graduated from elementary. I was forced to fly to Antique for the weekend to deliver a speech during the commencement exercises of my Alma Mater being their distiguished alumnus. Oh yes, I, myself was totally floored when my dad told me about it. The program started at eight in the morning and ended before lunch. It was nostalgic for me. I literally spent my formative years inside that school-- it was called Baybay Elementary School and later changed to Gov. Santos Capadocia Memorial School. I like the sound of it's former name-- Baybay meaning beach. Yes, the school is near the beach. It's the oldest elementary school in town and it's turning 100 next year.
It has been quite a while. And I'm smiling.
It has been two years since I moved here in my unit. It was Holy Week when I signed the contract two years ago. And I have decided to stay here another year. Signed the new contract last week.
It has been a two weeks that I have not been to the gym. It has been two weeks that I have been nursing this cough and the fear of an impending fever. And I finally said enough, I have to take amox 500 to kill whatever virus that has been starting to infest my system. Though the other side of me says that the virus has another name-- overworking. Damn, what's the drug for that?
It has been twenty years since I graduated from elementary. I was forced to fly to Antique for the weekend to deliver a speech during the commencement exercises of my Alma Mater being their distiguished alumnus. Oh yes, I, myself was totally floored when my dad told me about it. The program started at eight in the morning and ended before lunch. It was nostalgic for me. I literally spent my formative years inside that school-- it was called Baybay Elementary School and later changed to Gov. Santos Capadocia Memorial School. I like the sound of it's former name-- Baybay meaning beach. Yes, the school is near the beach. It's the oldest elementary school in town and it's turning 100 next year.
It has been quite a while. And I'm smiling.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Shit happening
Have you been in a situation where you can't help it but wish you shouldn't have been there in the first place? A friend aptly puts it, "Shit! napasubo ako dito."
Yeah, it feels shitty...
Yeah, it feels shitty...
Saturday, March 17, 2007
singing my body exhausted...
After having straight five-weekday shoots for three weeks, my body said enough.
I almost fainted while walking to Paul's car last night. He decided to take me to his house instead. Upon reaching his place, I only got to change shorts and dozed off. I woke up this morning with a 38 degrees C temperature.
I went home after lunch. While having dinner last night, my neighbor called that my unit was flooded because my bidet gave-in. The bathroom mat did nothing but to clog the drain making the water flow on the living room to the hallway of the the sixth floor. I came home with a wet rug. I will fix all these tomorrow. I'm tired.
Maybe I should really take it slow.
Maybe I should.
I almost fainted while walking to Paul's car last night. He decided to take me to his house instead. Upon reaching his place, I only got to change shorts and dozed off. I woke up this morning with a 38 degrees C temperature.
I went home after lunch. While having dinner last night, my neighbor called that my unit was flooded because my bidet gave-in. The bathroom mat did nothing but to clog the drain making the water flow on the living room to the hallway of the the sixth floor. I came home with a wet rug. I will fix all these tomorrow. I'm tired.
Maybe I should really take it slow.
Maybe I should.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Non-writer's angsts #3
"May blog ka pala?!"
I received this greeting from three different people three days in a row now. Receiving such, I felt like how they sounded- pretty much surprised.
"Nagsusulat ka pala!"
From one of the three. I was quite puzzled of the comment. Yet flattered at the same time. It is funny how people would gauge you basing it on your usual work. Mine for example is styling-- tinkering with inanimate objects (good thing they don't complain), making them look good, arrange them for the camera and shoot. Then wrapping them back again. I guess, a lot in the place where I'm working see me as that. A mere stylist. And if they find out that you are doing something apart from what they see, they get surprised. Some, even bothered. I used to hear a friend telling me to focus and just do one thing and be good at it. She has a point. Yet in my case, doing a lot of things-- different things makes my life more chaotic and therefore more fun. Monotony after all, is the curse of the professional life.
"Galeng! Galing mo magsulat!"
I have to admit, this can make my day. I just hope the two did it not to flatter me. Yet even if they did, it will still make my day. Ok admittedly, I'm a love-sick-frustrated-writer. Shamelessly admitting the fact, I am greatly offended and my ego drops to the Marianas trench everytime I am being told na hindi ako marunong magsulat.
Marunong akong magsulat. Mali lang ang spelling. Mahina sa grammar.
Pero marunong akong magsulat. Hindi lang magaling.
I received this greeting from three different people three days in a row now. Receiving such, I felt like how they sounded- pretty much surprised.
"Nagsusulat ka pala!"
From one of the three. I was quite puzzled of the comment. Yet flattered at the same time. It is funny how people would gauge you basing it on your usual work. Mine for example is styling-- tinkering with inanimate objects (good thing they don't complain), making them look good, arrange them for the camera and shoot. Then wrapping them back again. I guess, a lot in the place where I'm working see me as that. A mere stylist. And if they find out that you are doing something apart from what they see, they get surprised. Some, even bothered. I used to hear a friend telling me to focus and just do one thing and be good at it. She has a point. Yet in my case, doing a lot of things-- different things makes my life more chaotic and therefore more fun. Monotony after all, is the curse of the professional life.
"Galeng! Galing mo magsulat!"
I have to admit, this can make my day. I just hope the two did it not to flatter me. Yet even if they did, it will still make my day. Ok admittedly, I'm a love-sick-frustrated-writer. Shamelessly admitting the fact, I am greatly offended and my ego drops to the Marianas trench everytime I am being told na hindi ako marunong magsulat.
Marunong akong magsulat. Mali lang ang spelling. Mahina sa grammar.
Pero marunong akong magsulat. Hindi lang magaling.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
amazing thailand...
I will write about this next time... just too tired and sleepy.
Jim Thompson house. The lower photo was taken before my camera almost got confiscated for taking interior pictures of the house.
The amazing part.. was actually not documented....
Bangkok from the highway going to the airport
The amazing Bangkok Airport
Siam Design @ Siam Hotel and Spa podium floor and pool
Jim Thompson house. The lower photo was taken before my camera almost got confiscated for taking interior pictures of the house.
Safari
Lying Buddha. I did not expect that he would be that huge!!!
Golden Buddha (replica, the real one I did not bother to shoot)The amazing part.. was actually not documented....
Sunday, February 18, 2007
I love the nightlife...
Gimmick.
After years of fun and bottles of alcohol. I have finally decided that if ever I will go out in Manila's nightlife, it will be to accompany some friends and just to see the current crowd painting the town. It will be rare, unlike before. It will be much sober, unlike before. It will be more relaxed, unlike before.
Manila's nightlife has gotten younger and younger. Or maybe I'm the one getting older. The crowd does have the same faces every weekend for about a year or two. Then it will have additional few younger faces after a few months. Music continuously evolves to a more dreamy and grotesque themes in mixed beats. And so is fashion- more eclectic. Although at some point, got boring. If you go out twice a year with six-month intervals, you will not be missing a thing.
Bars lives peak in a year and unless they renovate or add some additional features, go downhill and eventually close down. And the same crowd will transfer to another new venue and waste that place for the same span of time until another new bar opens.
I was not planning to go out last night. I have been wanting to stay at home and watch dvd while doing some drawings. Until Lloyd (who apparently is one party animal who is terribly bored partying in Manila) asked me to join him for dinner after going to the gym. We had dinner at SM North (my, reminds me of college years). Then another friend called-- Wilan is from San Fernando. Lloyd got excited and proposed that we go out and have fun-- in Angeles City. I have to call Paul, since we are supposed to see each other that night. Paul agreed. A few minutes later, we found ourselves in NLEX driving to San Fernando to pick-up Wilan to party in Angeles.
We hopped from one bar to another. Lloyd met a few friends who practically got us in to bars and places for free. Ended up eating the best sisig in the palengke at about four in the morning. Paul brought me home at about six.
The experience was different. We are thinking of going back there next week.
After years of fun and bottles of alcohol. I have finally decided that if ever I will go out in Manila's nightlife, it will be to accompany some friends and just to see the current crowd painting the town. It will be rare, unlike before. It will be much sober, unlike before. It will be more relaxed, unlike before.
Manila's nightlife has gotten younger and younger. Or maybe I'm the one getting older. The crowd does have the same faces every weekend for about a year or two. Then it will have additional few younger faces after a few months. Music continuously evolves to a more dreamy and grotesque themes in mixed beats. And so is fashion- more eclectic. Although at some point, got boring. If you go out twice a year with six-month intervals, you will not be missing a thing.
Bars lives peak in a year and unless they renovate or add some additional features, go downhill and eventually close down. And the same crowd will transfer to another new venue and waste that place for the same span of time until another new bar opens.
I was not planning to go out last night. I have been wanting to stay at home and watch dvd while doing some drawings. Until Lloyd (who apparently is one party animal who is terribly bored partying in Manila) asked me to join him for dinner after going to the gym. We had dinner at SM North (my, reminds me of college years). Then another friend called-- Wilan is from San Fernando. Lloyd got excited and proposed that we go out and have fun-- in Angeles City. I have to call Paul, since we are supposed to see each other that night. Paul agreed. A few minutes later, we found ourselves in NLEX driving to San Fernando to pick-up Wilan to party in Angeles.
We hopped from one bar to another. Lloyd met a few friends who practically got us in to bars and places for free. Ended up eating the best sisig in the palengke at about four in the morning. Paul brought me home at about six.
The experience was different. We are thinking of going back there next week.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
NON-writer's angsts... 2
My editor told me that I can write well in my blog yet my articles are poorly written.
The last article I wrote for a magazine was a commentary on Philippine furniture design. A former officemate asked me write something on trends on design, how the business started and how it is doing now in the country. My diminutive writing ego was totally intimidated and told her that I can't do it. She told me to just scribble something and she will take care of it. I did. She had it published in their November issue. A number of friends got to read it on board Philippine Airlines and told me it was nice. It made my day. Rather days. Until now, I still receive text messages about it.
It is funny that after working in the magazine industry for almost five years now, styling over a hundred homes, doing countless set-ups, choosing products to feature (my, if only these stores know it everytime I enter their doors), it is rare that I will receive text messages about what I did considering the degree of difficulty of the set-up or home shoots. Not that I am begging for it, not that I'm needing it, but it sure boosts one's ego if you get one.
I have said before that I sure want to work in the magazines when I was still a student in design-- primarily because I have believed that I am a better critic than a designer. I sure entered the business and did something else-- exposing my work for critics. Yet writing something about somebody's work is still far from reach. I guess, it will never happen. But yes, I sure am contented where I am now. (In the industry I mean, in life, that's another thread.)
Writing on the other hand is one dream I have to put aside. It is accepting my limitations and moving forward to other avenues. Doing it from time to time in other magazines (and publications) feeds my whim (and fear).
It's funny because, in my home magazine, the last time I wrote something substantial was (aside from the bookazine) about three years ago- shopping flowers in Dangwa. Funnier, it was minimally edited.
Monday, February 12, 2007
The morning after...
It was the term my aunt wrote as a salutation on a photo she sent to my grandmother.
And so I thought it was ill meant to have sent my grandmother such. Then my mother told me it means "Dear" or "Darling" or some term of endearment fit for somebody special.
How the word got its meaning now is another story. In fact, a story unkown to me. The origin of how it became a slang is something I have not heard of. Though how we take such word right now I know every single sigh and syllable of it. It takes one to know one, I guess.
It was supposed to be a one night stand. It went down to us seeing each other everyday and eventually got into holding each other's hands. As if it is the most private part. I pressumed that both of us are single since either of us showed no signs of being not. My mistake.
It was my turn to be brought to the other person's place. It was remarkably designed. Quite dated in choice of accessories and hues but nonetheless, it was impressive. On each console
stood the family photos. Except for one console- the foyer. It was the person I'm holding hands with embraced by some unfamiliar face.
I was told a few days before about the fact. I brushed it aside. Thinking I can handle it since the other party is not here. Or I can just forget about it. Until last night.
It wasn not only on the foyer console, worse, the bedside table.
I went home this morning to catch my eight in the morning shoot... inside the cab, I wrote this--
Querida Mama,
And so I thought it was ill meant to have sent my grandmother such. Then my mother told me it means "Dear" or "Darling" or some term of endearment fit for somebody special.
Querido/Querida/Kerido/Kerida/Kerids/Kabit
How the word got its meaning now is another story. In fact, a story unkown to me. The origin of how it became a slang is something I have not heard of. Though how we take such word right now I know every single sigh and syllable of it. It takes one to know one, I guess.
It was supposed to be a one night stand. It went down to us seeing each other everyday and eventually got into holding each other's hands. As if it is the most private part. I pressumed that both of us are single since either of us showed no signs of being not. My mistake.
It was my turn to be brought to the other person's place. It was remarkably designed. Quite dated in choice of accessories and hues but nonetheless, it was impressive. On each console
stood the family photos. Except for one console- the foyer. It was the person I'm holding hands with embraced by some unfamiliar face.
I was told a few days before about the fact. I brushed it aside. Thinking I can handle it since the other party is not here. Or I can just forget about it. Until last night.
It wasn not only on the foyer console, worse, the bedside table.
I went home this morning to catch my eight in the morning shoot... inside the cab, I wrote this--
Uuwi na ako
Umaga na naman
Nakasisilaw ang pumapanhik
Na Araw
Binibigyang liwanag ang mga kanto't
Kalyeng masalimuot.
Uuwi na ako.
Sabi ko
Galing sa bahay mo. Maginaw.
Galing sa yakap na nailaan.
Umaga na naman.
Nakasisilaw ang katotohanan.
Ipinapahiwatig na ako'y
Nag-iisa.
Umaga na naman
Nakasisilaw ang pumapanhik
Na Araw
Binibigyang liwanag ang mga kanto't
Kalyeng masalimuot.
Uuwi na ako.
Sabi ko
Galing sa bahay mo. Maginaw.
Galing sa yakap na nailaan.
Umaga na naman.
Nakasisilaw ang katotohanan.
Ipinapahiwatig na ako'y
Nag-iisa.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Cursed!!!
curse of the golden flower
a.k.a. -- ang sumpa ng ginintuang kepyas
The story was quite simple--a.k.a. -- ang sumpa ng ginintuang kepyas
Everybody is preparing for a party. You have a mom from the upper class sleeping with the dad's eldest son from his first wife. The dad who is not from the nobility tries to poison his wife to madness so he can control her while banishing her son for ten years. The eldest son sleeps with the dad's pharmacist cum confidant's daughter who apparently is married to his so-called banished first wife. The mom hires a spy to investigate the meds given to her, who happened to be the same first-wife of the dad. Mom finds out. Conives with son to plot a coup against the dad. Eldest son finds out. Tells dad. Youngest envious son kills eldest brother to get attention of the dad. Dad kills youngest son. Coup fails. Son kills himself. The party continues.
Well, it is not that simple really - It is a story of a deranged family. Spiced with tens of thousands of cast, millions of beadwork, kilometres of carpet and an unlimited supply of potted chrysanthemums. Shot in a studio resembling the fabled forbidden city.
We came in about five minutes late and the first scene was the cancelled meeting of the empress with the emperor. It was Hero put to Last Emperor drenched in gold. The next few scenes splattered in shades of aqua, plum, red and more gold. As the whole visual assault is going on, you have breakers of black and gray with fantastic special effects ( I guess, break from all the colors but an assault as well).
Then the inevitable battle that made Helm's Deep elementary and as if it is not enough, after everyone was killed, they cleaned the entire area, rolled a new carpet, bring new chrysanthemums and tada! fireworks and the festival pushed thru complete with a choir of thousands. Excess became an understatement.Living in a country where the film industry thrives on austerity, such lavishness and impossibility is almost ridiculous. Keen attention to detail became a euphemism for
some pathological behavior. Considering that it is based on the latter part of the Tang Dynasty, the most ostentatious of all dynasties, much artistic license was put doubling the entire visual feast.
Come the credits, scored with some chinese pop song. You get out of the cinema saying "P#+@Ng I%@!!! Ano yun?!"
One wonders how the opening of the Beijing Olympics be next year considering that they have the same director.
Monday, February 05, 2007
DESIGN POLICE
try visiting this.... http://style-observer.blogspot.com/
A friend has been asking me for the longest time to make a blog about design. Afterall, that is what I do (or at least pretend to do). And I would always contemplate about it and decide not to because I am not a writer. So how can I possibly make an essay about a certain tea-pot designed by some blond lashed genius who doesn't even know where Manila is or if ever, still calls the Republic of the Philippines - P.I.? Po*#-i*& sh*t!
On the other hand, on our private moments, we will always talk about the common sins prevalent inside our homes. And other sins involving design and decorating. Yet we can't find a public venue for it.
Ok, I have to write this disclaimer---
Whatever is written there is not meant to insult but to correct. It is not written to ridicule but to improve. And yes, if you commit a crime as defined in that blog, you will never go to jail!
Enjoy!
A friend has been asking me for the longest time to make a blog about design. Afterall, that is what I do (or at least pretend to do). And I would always contemplate about it and decide not to because I am not a writer. So how can I possibly make an essay about a certain tea-pot designed by some blond lashed genius who doesn't even know where Manila is or if ever, still calls the Republic of the Philippines - P.I.? Po*#-i*& sh*t!
On the other hand, on our private moments, we will always talk about the common sins prevalent inside our homes. And other sins involving design and decorating. Yet we can't find a public venue for it.
Ok, I have to write this disclaimer---
Whatever is written there is not meant to insult but to correct. It is not written to ridicule but to improve. And yes, if you commit a crime as defined in that blog, you will never go to jail!
Enjoy!
brain gender and hmmmm...
| Your Brain is 60% Female, 40% Male |
 Your brain is a healthy mix of male and female You are both sensitive and savvy Rational and reasonable, you tend to keep level headed But you also tend to wear your heart on your sleeve |
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