Change of address: http://ilayaonline.wordpress.com
Totoo ang tsismis, fickle nga ako.
8.15.2007
7.13.2007
teacher, may I go to the washroom?
Seven years ago, I was in a short queue (relative to UP pilahan) at the Registrar’s Office at my high school alma mater, St. Paul, Pasig, about to pay for my elective class. I chose Painting, since I really wanted to learn how to paint. While in line, I asked around who were going to enrol for Painting elective class. Mae Ramos. Mai Sibayan. Val Calma. Ah okay. Sila lang naman yung mga artists ng batch namin. Tipong kapag pinag-drawing mo sila ng tao, tao nga ang ido-draw. Hindi man lang stick people. Hmph, obedient. Tse.
When it was my turn to pay for Painting, then and there, I just changed my mind (fickle na pala ako dati pa): “Ate, Video Production na lang po ako.” Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I chickened out, thank you very much.
At iyon ang pinakamagandang pagkakatawang-manok ko sa aking buhay-tao.
I enjoyed my Video Production class so much that in college, I shifted to Film after only a year as a Broadcast Communication major (na wala pang na-te-take na Broad Comm subjects ni isa). To this day, I credit my Video Prod teacher, Ms. Kathlyn Pike, for making me realize that I want to be a director.
Seven years later, I credit Ms. Pike for making me want to be a Video Production teacher myself. In the same school.
I now am.
“Ms. Tonette” ang itawag nyo sa akin.
I wanted our first day of class to be light and fun. (In school, I hated teachers who would start the year with a lesson. Tse.) That day, I got to know 11 new faces (two were absent). Dalawa lang ang naalala kong pangalan. Jenica. Ances. Sila lang ang may nametag.
Assignment #1: Class, next week, please wear a name tag. (Kung ayaw nyong matawag na "Yes?" tuwing mag-re-recite.)
As expected, my class (just like most Pinoys) hardly ever watch Pinoy films. I asked one of them, “What’s the last Filipino film you’ve seen?” After a while, she said, “Pinay Pie.” Ay kamusta ka naman. That Star Cinema film (starring Ai-ai delas Alas) was released some four years ago! Sad. Pero in fairness, ako nga, hindi napanood yun e.
I took that as a cue. I asked them if they know of the Lino Brocka. No daw. Huwat?! I asked them if they know of the Ishmael Bernal. No din daw. Huwaaaaat?! (My huwaat was very audible, by the way.) I asked them if they of Joyce Bernal. Their faces lit up. “Yeeeeees!!!” Huwaaaaw.
Aba, aba. In fairness kay Direk Joyce. Mas sikat pa kina Brocka at Ishma. Pero hindi ko alam kung matutuwa o malulungkot ako. So na-alarm na lang ako.
Mental note to self: Make them watch as many Brocka and Bernal films as possible. Both Bernals.
After some time, I was already blabbing about incoherent anecdotes on how much TV commercial directors are paid, Paano Kita Iibigin?, the haunting last scene in Ishma’s Ikaw ay Akin, UP, my high school batch, et cetera et cetera. I was actually waiting for the dismissal bell to ring; it never came. I ended my class fifteen minutes overtime. With a prayer.
Tsk. In school, I hated teachers who would end their class late, but class, please don’t hate me yet. I have the whole school year to make up for that. At gawin kayong mga direktor.
I’m loving this so far. Dear God, salamat po.
And “St. Paul, pray for us.”#
When it was my turn to pay for Painting, then and there, I just changed my mind (fickle na pala ako dati pa): “Ate, Video Production na lang po ako.” Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I chickened out, thank you very much.
At iyon ang pinakamagandang pagkakatawang-manok ko sa aking buhay-tao.
I enjoyed my Video Production class so much that in college, I shifted to Film after only a year as a Broadcast Communication major (na wala pang na-te-take na Broad Comm subjects ni isa). To this day, I credit my Video Prod teacher, Ms. Kathlyn Pike, for making me realize that I want to be a director.
Seven years later, I credit Ms. Pike for making me want to be a Video Production teacher myself. In the same school.
I now am.
“Ms. Tonette” ang itawag nyo sa akin.
I wanted our first day of class to be light and fun. (In school, I hated teachers who would start the year with a lesson. Tse.) That day, I got to know 11 new faces (two were absent). Dalawa lang ang naalala kong pangalan. Jenica. Ances. Sila lang ang may nametag.
Assignment #1: Class, next week, please wear a name tag. (Kung ayaw nyong matawag na "Yes?" tuwing mag-re-recite.)
As expected, my class (just like most Pinoys) hardly ever watch Pinoy films. I asked one of them, “What’s the last Filipino film you’ve seen?” After a while, she said, “Pinay Pie.” Ay kamusta ka naman. That Star Cinema film (starring Ai-ai delas Alas) was released some four years ago! Sad. Pero in fairness, ako nga, hindi napanood yun e.
I took that as a cue. I asked them if they know of the Lino Brocka. No daw. Huwat?! I asked them if they know of the Ishmael Bernal. No din daw. Huwaaaaat?! (My huwaat was very audible, by the way.) I asked them if they of Joyce Bernal. Their faces lit up. “Yeeeeees!!!” Huwaaaaw.
Aba, aba. In fairness kay Direk Joyce. Mas sikat pa kina Brocka at Ishma. Pero hindi ko alam kung matutuwa o malulungkot ako. So na-alarm na lang ako.
Mental note to self: Make them watch as many Brocka and Bernal films as possible. Both Bernals.
After some time, I was already blabbing about incoherent anecdotes on how much TV commercial directors are paid, Paano Kita Iibigin?, the haunting last scene in Ishma’s Ikaw ay Akin, UP, my high school batch, et cetera et cetera. I was actually waiting for the dismissal bell to ring; it never came. I ended my class fifteen minutes overtime. With a prayer.
Tsk. In school, I hated teachers who would end their class late, but class, please don’t hate me yet. I have the whole school year to make up for that. At gawin kayong mga direktor.
I’m loving this so far. Dear God, salamat po.
And “St. Paul, pray for us.”#
6.18.2007
long-overdue perspective
That Saturday was the start of a new perspective.
It took me an unusually long text conversation with a long-lost friend and a long e-mail from a faraway friend to finally realize how much time I've wasted dwelling on pointless and unhealthy things.
Aruy. Nabatukan ako dun a. Pero nakangiti.
Ang pinakamasarap na batok ay 'yung galing sa kaibigan.
It took me an unusually long text conversation with a long-lost friend and a long e-mail from a faraway friend to finally realize how much time I've wasted dwelling on pointless and unhealthy things.
Aruy. Nabatukan ako dun a. Pero nakangiti.
Ang pinakamasarap na batok ay 'yung galing sa kaibigan.
5.24.2007
In the tradition of "The Year That Was": The Film ("Paano Kita Iibigin") That Was
Sa loob ng limang buwan, ito ang naging semi-buhay ko. Tsk, kapag isang pelikula pala ang ginawa mong semi-buhay, parang buong buhay mo na rin. E si Direk Joyce Bernal pa ang direktor, edi namatay na 'ko. Sa madaling salita, sa loob ng limang buwan, ako ay nabuhay, namatay, at nabuhay na mag-uli. Pero hindi pa naman ako Diyos. Sa dami ng pagkakamali ko bilang script continuity supervisor, o "script con" (tulad ng lulubog-lilitaw na relo ni Piolo, at ng naglalahong itlog sa plato na nagiging corned beef), alam kong taong-tao pa rin ako.
Ang daming hindi ko malilimutan bilang tao.
Tulad nung actors' workshop sa may PETA Building (November 2006) kung saan una kong nakita si Piolo Pascual bilang tao at na wala sa Don't Give Up on Us o sa Till There Was You. Nalaman kong totoo ang tsismis: Gwapo nga siya.
Tulad nung unang dalawang shooting days namin sa BMW Auto Haus-e-Telecare at bahay sa Sampaloc, Manila kung saan ang dami kong mali (e.g. nag-iibang damit ni Quintin Alianza (bilang "Liam", hikaing anak ni "Martee", o ang kumulubot na bra strap ni Ms. Regine Velasquez (bilang "Martee")). Kung saan nalaman kong ang script con din pala ang bahala sa pag-sundo at paghatid sa mga artista sa stand-by area nila, sa pagbato at pagpa-memorize ng mga linya sa artista at ang pinaka-enjoy (nung panahong yun), sa pagiging ka-eksena ni Ms. Regine o Piolo kapag off-cam ang kasagutan ng linya. (Dahil pati ako, dinidirek ni Direk Joyce: "Tonette, sa word na to, dapat taasan mo na ang pagsigaw dyan ha." Uh, yes, Direk? Oily na po ako!)
Tulad nung unang nagpunta ako sa condo ni Direk Joyce para mag-research. (Kurot sa sarili.)
Tulad nung nag-night swimming kami sa dagat ng Botolan, Zambales (location ng pelikula) habang umiinom ng San Mig Light, nakatingin sa mga malapit na bituin, at nakikinig sa mga kwento at pananaw ni Direk Joyce. (Sa puntong ito, hindi ako makapniwala na ka-trabaho ko na ang direktor ng paborito kong Don't Give Up On Us. At tumatagay pa sa harap ko.)
Tulad nung naging cause of delay ako ng sampung minuto dahil sa nawawalang props na takong ni Ms. Regine (na dinala ng aming wardrobe sa pagpunta nya sa canteen, kamusta naman). Sunud-sunod ang "Tonet, nasan na?" at "Continuity yan, Tonet" ni Direk Joyce sa mic. Pagkatapos ng eksena, nag-sorry ako kay Direk Joyce. Sabi nya: "Okay lang yan. Ganyan talaga pag nagsisimula, nagkakamali." Sabay suntok sa braso ko: "Adik ka."
Tulad nung first name basis na kami ng mga crew ng mga PA at kasama ng mga artista, at lalo nina sir Piolo at Ms. Regine. (Sabi pa ni Ms. Regine: "Tonet, dati napaka-mahiyain mo. Ngayon, kumakapal ka na rin parang si Joyce a.")
Tulad nung malaman ko ang mga terminong pampelikula: love scene (para sa "sex scene"), death scene, happy moments (para sa montage ng mga kakiligan), flatbed (kung saan ipapatong ang vehicle para makunan nang maayos sa tracking shot), konseptong run out (kapag ubos na ang 400ft sa film roll), MOS (kapag walang audio). At iba pa, na hindi ko naman natutunan sa apat na taon ko sa UP Film.
Tulad nung isang shooting day sa may Tanauan, Batangas (hangar, kung saan maglo-love scene at kung saan mag-iiyakan) kung saan inabutan ako ni Direk Joyce ng San Mig Light habang nag-shu-shoot. Sabi ko: "Direk, di po ako umiinom." Sabi nya: "Uminom ka. Mas masarap uminom habang nagtatrabaho." Edi inom naman ako. Sabi nya: "O diba, mas masarap?" Hindi naman e.
Tulad nung isang gabi sa Botolan, pagkatapos ng isang masamang shooting day. Habang nakahiga at nakatitig sa kisame, biglang nag-open up si Ayrin, ang astig na assistant director namin (na dating scriptcon ni Direk Joyce at hindi ako pinapabayaan) tungkol sa sistemang bulok ng pelikula: mga personalan, mga palakasan, mga sipsipan, mga perahan. Ito ang industriyang haharapin namin: pakalunod ka o mag-salbabida. I say, langoy-aso.
Tulad nung isang gabi sa may beach habang hinihintay naming humupa ang mga alon, nagkwento si sir Piolo tungkol sa kanila ni Judy Ann Santos. Napatulala ako. Sabay, haaaay.
Tulad nung pinasulat ako ni Direk Joyce ng isang eksena (nung ginamot ni Martee si Lance matapos sila sagipin sa almost pagkalunod). Nung binigay ko kay Direk Joyce ang script, natawa siya at kumantiyaw. Nung binigay niya sakin yung final script para sa eksena na yun, nagulat ako: ginamit nya yung script ko. (Postscript: Na-reshoot ang eksena.)
Tulad nung ma-pack up kami ng 4am sa Lipa, Batangas (para sa nakakaiyak na final scene. Naluha ako) tapos diretso sa Majayjay, Laguna (para sa almost pagkalunod scene) para sa 7am na calltime. O nung limang araw na dire-diretsong shooting sa Zambales nang walang uwian. Pero masarap.
Tulad nung last shooting day namin sa Botolan. (Sa pelikula pala, may kulturang "pa-last day" kung saan nagreregalo ang mga artista sa lahat. Sabi, si Ms. Regine daw ang pinaka-bongga magpa-last day sa lahat. Bonggang-bongga nga.) Kung saan nagka-free concert si Ms. Regine (ng isang kanta lang naman). Kung saan nagpa-raffle na pwedeng makakuha ng flat screen TV, cellphone, DVD player, turbo broiler at iba pa. Ang napanalunan ko: desk fan. Fine.
Tulad nung sinabi ni Direk Joyce nung antok na antok na kami ni Ayrin: "Ang mga alaga ko, bagsak na agad." Sarap pakinggan.
Tulad nung pinapanood sa'min ni Direk Joyce ang first edit ng pelikula. Kahit ilang beses ko na napanood mula sa dubbing, naiyak ako. (Maganda ang pelikula. Peksman.)
Tulad nung sinabi ni Direk sa dubbing supervisor: "Papuntahin mo si Tonet sa dubbing bukas a." Sabi ni dubbing supervisor, ang mga ibang scriptcon daw kasi, hindi na nagpupunta sa dubbing kasi wala nang bayad yun. Sabi ni Direk Joyce: "Ay hindi, pupunta yun si Tonet. Willing matuto yun. Mag-di-direk sila ni Ayrin." Napangiti na lang ako.
Tulad nung buong pelikula, mula umpisa hanggang dulo. Ang sarap pa rin pala gumawa ng pelikula (kahit di mo maaasahan sa pera). Sa uulitin po, Direk Joyce.
Paano Kita Iibigin, in theaters on May 30. Premiere Night on May 29, SM Megamall Cinema 10. Directed by Bb. Joyce Bernal. Nakakatawa, nakaka-iyak. Maganda. Manonood ka ba?
Ang daming hindi ko malilimutan bilang tao.
Tulad nung actors' workshop sa may PETA Building (November 2006) kung saan una kong nakita si Piolo Pascual bilang tao at na wala sa Don't Give Up on Us o sa Till There Was You. Nalaman kong totoo ang tsismis: Gwapo nga siya.
Tulad nung unang dalawang shooting days namin sa BMW Auto Haus-e-Telecare at bahay sa Sampaloc, Manila kung saan ang dami kong mali (e.g. nag-iibang damit ni Quintin Alianza (bilang "Liam", hikaing anak ni "Martee", o ang kumulubot na bra strap ni Ms. Regine Velasquez (bilang "Martee")). Kung saan nalaman kong ang script con din pala ang bahala sa pag-sundo at paghatid sa mga artista sa stand-by area nila, sa pagbato at pagpa-memorize ng mga linya sa artista at ang pinaka-enjoy (nung panahong yun), sa pagiging ka-eksena ni Ms. Regine o Piolo kapag off-cam ang kasagutan ng linya. (Dahil pati ako, dinidirek ni Direk Joyce: "Tonette, sa word na to, dapat taasan mo na ang pagsigaw dyan ha." Uh, yes, Direk? Oily na po ako!)
Tulad nung unang nagpunta ako sa condo ni Direk Joyce para mag-research. (Kurot sa sarili.)
Tulad nung nag-night swimming kami sa dagat ng Botolan, Zambales (location ng pelikula) habang umiinom ng San Mig Light, nakatingin sa mga malapit na bituin, at nakikinig sa mga kwento at pananaw ni Direk Joyce. (Sa puntong ito, hindi ako makapniwala na ka-trabaho ko na ang direktor ng paborito kong Don't Give Up On Us. At tumatagay pa sa harap ko.)
Tulad nung naging cause of delay ako ng sampung minuto dahil sa nawawalang props na takong ni Ms. Regine (na dinala ng aming wardrobe sa pagpunta nya sa canteen, kamusta naman). Sunud-sunod ang "Tonet, nasan na?" at "Continuity yan, Tonet" ni Direk Joyce sa mic. Pagkatapos ng eksena, nag-sorry ako kay Direk Joyce. Sabi nya: "Okay lang yan. Ganyan talaga pag nagsisimula, nagkakamali." Sabay suntok sa braso ko: "Adik ka."
Tulad nung first name basis na kami ng mga crew ng mga PA at kasama ng mga artista, at lalo nina sir Piolo at Ms. Regine. (Sabi pa ni Ms. Regine: "Tonet, dati napaka-mahiyain mo. Ngayon, kumakapal ka na rin parang si Joyce a.")
Tulad nung malaman ko ang mga terminong pampelikula: love scene (para sa "sex scene"), death scene, happy moments (para sa montage ng mga kakiligan), flatbed (kung saan ipapatong ang vehicle para makunan nang maayos sa tracking shot), konseptong run out (kapag ubos na ang 400ft sa film roll), MOS (kapag walang audio). At iba pa, na hindi ko naman natutunan sa apat na taon ko sa UP Film.
Tulad nung isang shooting day sa may Tanauan, Batangas (hangar, kung saan maglo-love scene at kung saan mag-iiyakan) kung saan inabutan ako ni Direk Joyce ng San Mig Light habang nag-shu-shoot. Sabi ko: "Direk, di po ako umiinom." Sabi nya: "Uminom ka. Mas masarap uminom habang nagtatrabaho." Edi inom naman ako. Sabi nya: "O diba, mas masarap?" Hindi naman e.
Tulad nung isang gabi sa Botolan, pagkatapos ng isang masamang shooting day. Habang nakahiga at nakatitig sa kisame, biglang nag-open up si Ayrin, ang astig na assistant director namin (na dating scriptcon ni Direk Joyce at hindi ako pinapabayaan) tungkol sa sistemang bulok ng pelikula: mga personalan, mga palakasan, mga sipsipan, mga perahan. Ito ang industriyang haharapin namin: pakalunod ka o mag-salbabida. I say, langoy-aso.
Tulad nung isang gabi sa may beach habang hinihintay naming humupa ang mga alon, nagkwento si sir Piolo tungkol sa kanila ni Judy Ann Santos. Napatulala ako. Sabay, haaaay.
Tulad nung pinasulat ako ni Direk Joyce ng isang eksena (nung ginamot ni Martee si Lance matapos sila sagipin sa almost pagkalunod). Nung binigay ko kay Direk Joyce ang script, natawa siya at kumantiyaw. Nung binigay niya sakin yung final script para sa eksena na yun, nagulat ako: ginamit nya yung script ko. (Postscript: Na-reshoot ang eksena.)
Tulad nung ma-pack up kami ng 4am sa Lipa, Batangas (para sa nakakaiyak na final scene. Naluha ako) tapos diretso sa Majayjay, Laguna (para sa almost pagkalunod scene) para sa 7am na calltime. O nung limang araw na dire-diretsong shooting sa Zambales nang walang uwian. Pero masarap.
Tulad nung last shooting day namin sa Botolan. (Sa pelikula pala, may kulturang "pa-last day" kung saan nagreregalo ang mga artista sa lahat. Sabi, si Ms. Regine daw ang pinaka-bongga magpa-last day sa lahat. Bonggang-bongga nga.) Kung saan nagka-free concert si Ms. Regine (ng isang kanta lang naman). Kung saan nagpa-raffle na pwedeng makakuha ng flat screen TV, cellphone, DVD player, turbo broiler at iba pa. Ang napanalunan ko: desk fan. Fine.
Tulad nung sinabi ni Direk Joyce nung antok na antok na kami ni Ayrin: "Ang mga alaga ko, bagsak na agad." Sarap pakinggan.
Tulad nung pinapanood sa'min ni Direk Joyce ang first edit ng pelikula. Kahit ilang beses ko na napanood mula sa dubbing, naiyak ako. (Maganda ang pelikula. Peksman.)
Tulad nung sinabi ni Direk sa dubbing supervisor: "Papuntahin mo si Tonet sa dubbing bukas a." Sabi ni dubbing supervisor, ang mga ibang scriptcon daw kasi, hindi na nagpupunta sa dubbing kasi wala nang bayad yun. Sabi ni Direk Joyce: "Ay hindi, pupunta yun si Tonet. Willing matuto yun. Mag-di-direk sila ni Ayrin." Napangiti na lang ako.
Tulad nung buong pelikula, mula umpisa hanggang dulo. Ang sarap pa rin pala gumawa ng pelikula (kahit di mo maaasahan sa pera). Sa uulitin po, Direk Joyce.
Paano Kita Iibigin, in theaters on May 30. Premiere Night on May 29, SM Megamall Cinema 10. Directed by Bb. Joyce Bernal. Nakakatawa, nakaka-iyak. Maganda. Manonood ka ba?
5.21.2007
5.13.2007
Ang pelikulang Joyce Bernal-Piolo Pascual. Ay, andito rin si Regine Velasquez.
May 30. Hindi tulad ng pa-importanteng Spiderman 3, hindi lang ito ang palabas sa mga SM Cinemas, pero panoorin pa rin natin ito. (Unang beses kong makikita ang aking pangalan sa closing credits ng isang mainstream na pelikula sa SM Megamall Cinema 10. Sorry manong guard, magdadala talaga ako ng camera. Hanapin mo sa bag ko, tse!)Pero hindi pa tapos ang shooting namin (na December 2006 pa nagsimula. Inabutan na kami ng Happy New Year, ng Happy Valentine's Day, ng Happy Birthday ni Piolo Pascual, ng Happy Birthday ko, ng Happy Birthday ni Ms. Regine Velasquez, ng Happy Birthday ni Direk Joyce Bernal, ng pagsilang ng anak ni Kris Aquino, ng Labor Day at pati ng paghihiwalay ni Ruffa Gutierez at Yilmaz Bektas. Parang awa n'yo na, wag na sana kami abutan ng pagbabati nila).
May apat na araw pa (Batangas-Batangas-Laguna-Zambales), kasama na ang ending na may rain effect (kung papayag ang may-ari ng resort).
Promise, ang todo-promote at kwento ko, pagka-last day namin. (Sana nga magka-last day kami.)
Paano Kita Iibigin. Directed by Bb. Joyce Bernal. Starring Piolo Pascual, Regine Velasquez, Eugene Domingo, Quintin Alianza. Also Starring Iya Villania, Hyubs Azarcon, Erich Gonzales, Gian Teri, Robin Daroza, Jett Pangan, Paw Diaz, JC Cuadrado. Produced by Star Cinema and Viva Films.
4.25.2007
The Revenge of Letter B (or a Boring History of Learning How to Write)
(Note: I started writing this around November 2006 when I just "resigned" (or took a leave?) from my previous "job" as trainee Production Assistant in a production house to finally be part of a mainstream film production with my favorite director Joyce Bernal. The film did not start filming until late December. I finished writing this essay in January 2007, when the filming stopped because of major script revisions. (At hindi pa ito tapos hanggang ngayon. Ano'ng petsa na?) Na-bore nako sa pagtengga sa bahay. Ayan, napa-English tuloy ako.)
The letter “b” on my sister’s laptop has finally agreed to serve its purpose as a member of the keyboard again. Actually, I perfectly understand its month-long apathy after I accidentally spilled ice-cold water on it. (Then again, letters h, g and v had a taste of the water too, but they weren’t as indifferent. Baka uhaw.) For a month, I had been doing the copy-and-paste routine whenever I wanted a letter “b” on my sentences.
Buti na lang hindi Ctrl+B ang copy-and-paste.
On other moments, like while in a typing rush in Yahoo Messenger, I was too in a hurry to actually put the “b” where it needed to be. I just trusted the quick syntax judgment of my chatmates that they’d understand what I was talking about even without that prima donna letter. Ahala na si atman.
I was in the middle of another typing rush when I spilled that glass of water on this laptop. It was my dream essay for that moment, so I was more focused on running after the sudden surge of words in my head than wiping the water off the keyboard. Too late, letter “b” has already gone on an unplanned sabbatical. After more than a month of serious writer’s block, my supposed non-concern for the keyboard’s welfare (in favor of finally finishing the essay) was perfectly understandable.
Letter b, I’m beginning to write again. Please cooperate.
* * *
I did not grow up wanting to be a writer. It was just not one of the popular default ambitions of most prep students--teacher, doctor (or veterinarian, if you can pronounce it right) or artista (via That’s, Saturday Edition). On my non-conformist days, I remember wanting to be a sportscaster, a synchronized swimmer and an architect. Today, I am not any of those: I am scared of syringes and blood, I did not grow tall enough to interview a basketball player (if only to be inside the camera frame at all), and my most perfected swimming stroke is the ever-reliable langoy-aso. (Ironically, I am not a veterinarian too.) Along with being a film director, it was the non-ambition “to be a writer” that I pursued--unconsciously.
Still, Kuya Germs, it was your and Saturday Edition’s loss.
There was self-inflicted “stress” in college (which translates to simple pag-iinarte relative to Real World stress), and that became my initial motivation to write. At that time, the popular and easy realization of “to write” did not include pen and paper but a keyboard and the world-wide web. Yes, I began to blog. When under stress, being tolerated for my shallowness and spontaneity is manna from Blogdrive heaven. Using my prep-level expertise on HTML (which produced a tacky layout reminiscent of a picnic cloth), I talked about free Masculados ringtones, Cassandra Ponti, my grudge towards Pong Pagong, the T-Rex at the I-Max, MRT rush hours, and overheard tsismis from FX passengers, among others. By normal journalist standards, that is not legitimate writing of course, but still, it was where I began to want to write--consciously.
Later on, when my blog visitors were no longer limited to my non-layout judgmental friends and already extended to the “accidental visitors” (or the disoriented victims of Google search), I knew there was something more to writing than just being a virtual Stresstabs. It meant a lot when a virtual stranger (who may’ve actually Googled for “Cassandra Ponti”. Very likely) actually tags how I made him laugh and even comes back, or when a friend comments on how I write. In the tradition of my being shallow, those simple tags and comments made my day. I discovered that rewarding feeling of being read. Sorry Stresstabs, you just lost one customer to a tagboard.
Blog and blog readers, thank you for keeping me sane. I owe you my mental hospital bill.
* * *
Well, that was the case prior to Real World stress. (Ironically, in my timeline, that was pre-Boom Tarat Tarat too.) At the end of a tiring and frustrating day, writing was simply not on the priority to-do list anymore. There was, of course, watching (the last minutes of) Deal or No Deal, cursing and being dramatic, staring at the ceiling and listening to the brilliant music of the butiki, and before there was even time to write, sleep is already as welcoming as ever. Besides, writing and whining about “life” is already unoriginal and redundant, so why repeat myself? That’s what the blog archives are for. Thank you, dear stress, you made me forget how to write and everything nice that goes with it. You’d owe me my mental hospital bill. And two Stresstabs.
Then again, there is something about writing that makes you not forget about it completely. Buti na lang.
Now, I begin to miss writing. I miss writing then being read. In true character, writing is now saving me again from stress (and its fellow citizens, frustration and boredom) before bedtime. Suddenly, the musical ability of our resident butiki is not as delightful as before.
So letter b, don’t disappear on me now. And please pass the message to your co-keyboard keys. I’m beginning to want to write again. Bahala na si Batman. #
The letter “b” on my sister’s laptop has finally agreed to serve its purpose as a member of the keyboard again. Actually, I perfectly understand its month-long apathy after I accidentally spilled ice-cold water on it. (Then again, letters h, g and v had a taste of the water too, but they weren’t as indifferent. Baka uhaw.) For a month, I had been doing the copy-and-paste routine whenever I wanted a letter “b” on my sentences.
Buti na lang hindi Ctrl+B ang copy-and-paste.
On other moments, like while in a typing rush in Yahoo Messenger, I was too in a hurry to actually put the “b” where it needed to be. I just trusted the quick syntax judgment of my chatmates that they’d understand what I was talking about even without that prima donna letter. Ahala na si atman.
I was in the middle of another typing rush when I spilled that glass of water on this laptop. It was my dream essay for that moment, so I was more focused on running after the sudden surge of words in my head than wiping the water off the keyboard. Too late, letter “b” has already gone on an unplanned sabbatical. After more than a month of serious writer’s block, my supposed non-concern for the keyboard’s welfare (in favor of finally finishing the essay) was perfectly understandable.
Letter b, I’m beginning to write again. Please cooperate.
* * *
I did not grow up wanting to be a writer. It was just not one of the popular default ambitions of most prep students--teacher, doctor (or veterinarian, if you can pronounce it right) or artista (via That’s, Saturday Edition). On my non-conformist days, I remember wanting to be a sportscaster, a synchronized swimmer and an architect. Today, I am not any of those: I am scared of syringes and blood, I did not grow tall enough to interview a basketball player (if only to be inside the camera frame at all), and my most perfected swimming stroke is the ever-reliable langoy-aso. (Ironically, I am not a veterinarian too.) Along with being a film director, it was the non-ambition “to be a writer” that I pursued--unconsciously.
Still, Kuya Germs, it was your and Saturday Edition’s loss.
There was self-inflicted “stress” in college (which translates to simple pag-iinarte relative to Real World stress), and that became my initial motivation to write. At that time, the popular and easy realization of “to write” did not include pen and paper but a keyboard and the world-wide web. Yes, I began to blog. When under stress, being tolerated for my shallowness and spontaneity is manna from Blogdrive heaven. Using my prep-level expertise on HTML (which produced a tacky layout reminiscent of a picnic cloth), I talked about free Masculados ringtones, Cassandra Ponti, my grudge towards Pong Pagong, the T-Rex at the I-Max, MRT rush hours, and overheard tsismis from FX passengers, among others. By normal journalist standards, that is not legitimate writing of course, but still, it was where I began to want to write--consciously.
Later on, when my blog visitors were no longer limited to my non-layout judgmental friends and already extended to the “accidental visitors” (or the disoriented victims of Google search), I knew there was something more to writing than just being a virtual Stresstabs. It meant a lot when a virtual stranger (who may’ve actually Googled for “Cassandra Ponti”. Very likely) actually tags how I made him laugh and even comes back, or when a friend comments on how I write. In the tradition of my being shallow, those simple tags and comments made my day. I discovered that rewarding feeling of being read. Sorry Stresstabs, you just lost one customer to a tagboard.
Blog and blog readers, thank you for keeping me sane. I owe you my mental hospital bill.
* * *
Well, that was the case prior to Real World stress. (Ironically, in my timeline, that was pre-Boom Tarat Tarat too.) At the end of a tiring and frustrating day, writing was simply not on the priority to-do list anymore. There was, of course, watching (the last minutes of) Deal or No Deal, cursing and being dramatic, staring at the ceiling and listening to the brilliant music of the butiki, and before there was even time to write, sleep is already as welcoming as ever. Besides, writing and whining about “life” is already unoriginal and redundant, so why repeat myself? That’s what the blog archives are for. Thank you, dear stress, you made me forget how to write and everything nice that goes with it. You’d owe me my mental hospital bill. And two Stresstabs.
Then again, there is something about writing that makes you not forget about it completely. Buti na lang.
Now, I begin to miss writing. I miss writing then being read. In true character, writing is now saving me again from stress (and its fellow citizens, frustration and boredom) before bedtime. Suddenly, the musical ability of our resident butiki is not as delightful as before.
So letter b, don’t disappear on me now. And please pass the message to your co-keyboard keys. I’m beginning to want to write again. Bahala na si Batman. #
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