slurrings

crash, a best picture winner in the 2005 academy awards, is one hollywood gem that touched my insecurities. the movie tackled racism in the vast landscape of los angeles. gripped with strain inside the cinema as i was watching the reel, it showed the various facets of my multi-racial existence, a dimension full of disdain for certain cultures. when i was growing up in bacolod, i frequently observed filipino films stereotyping actors from the visayas as maids and the butts of the jokes. that was status quo and i didn't find it derogatory. there's this hint of swagger in all of us. one of my friends, who's not even from manila but from a popular tourist destination somewhere in luzon, blurted out this line about one of our superiors, "baw si inday, mukha siyang katulong." my friend may wear her goody-goody shoes from the outside, but in the cores of her emotions, she could be haughty and stucked-up.

although i haven't seen sakal, sakali, saklolo yet. i'm quite familiar on the impact and impression of the controversial dialogues. i can only watch the movie through dvd, because i'm bounded by the limited media of my location to help out in its box office receipts. besides there's not a chance in my swamped sked i'm going to miss this film even sans all these vociferations. in all likelihood the voices against the so-called slurs in the flick had a specific agenda that easily gathered media mileage and got pushed into the pages of entertainment blogs and torn into pieces by adherents of rival festival outputs. the impressionable teens (is it really PG-13?) who would bear witness to the negative remarks in the dramedy, whether they're from luzon, or visayas and mindanao, will find out for themselves how the world revolves, that in our native land, denizens from the capital look down on individuals from all the provinces and not just from areas beyond region four.

lola (gloria diaz) to yaya : bakit ninyo pinapalaki na bisaya ang apo ko? ~~ angie (judy ann) to yaya : speak to the kid in tagalog. parang pinoy.

i have an idea how those lines were actually presented. they were not meant to offend. accord our gray matter a work out, it's always a charm to see beyond the literal pitch.

in a bigger context, wherever parts of our beloved archipelago you were born and bred even if you're from the lovely capital, the progressive spheres still see all of us collectively as a nation of upheavals. we are required a visa to enter the boundaries of most countries in europe, north america and the powers that be in the G8. plus in the eyes of most caucasians, richer asians, the lads who follow football, or the faces i see everyday, by virtue of our phyletic heritage, we were already bequeathed the smaller portion of the tasty pie and therefore beneath them.

rugby, football reveries

i tried but i can't really pinpoint who uttered this age-old adage "football is a gentlemen's game played by hooligans while rugby is a hooligan's game played by gentlemen." i've never been to a live rugby match but i've been to live football matches. my knowledge of expletives have surely grown in all these years being bombarded by the beautiful game day and night. we are all through the news and scads of documentaries that football firms exist. in reality, it's not unreachable to stay level-headed in such chaotic surroundings. but through all the docu's and football specials i've seen about the fan rivalries in europe and south america, i could attest that the english premier league is a much safer environment.

rugby, having its name derived from the rugby school in warwickshire, the oldest public school in england, is a posh sport. i thought with all the aggression of the game, it might have a working class following but no. it's a sport of the middle class. and despite looking the other way, the great divide between the rich and the poor, truly and utterly exists. it's fair to correlate rugby with polo or equestrian, both rich man's sports.

basketball matches in RP in comparison are usually mild and serene. the police don't surround the area, there are no stewards to separate the home and away fans as there are no such things as home and away fans. the supporters of both teams can actually co-exist and cheer together. football may appear boring to the average pinoy but it's actually the most tension-filled atmosphere i've ever been subjected myself into. when you're very tiny and surrounded by inebriated, highly-partisan seven-footers and with all the screaming testosterones, it can become scary. but then football unlike most north american sports with all the timeouts alloted in the world do not go on forever and before i know it i get to go home as soon as the whistle is blown.

the match at home against fulham on boxing day was fantastic.
glory, glory tottenham hotspur.
it's nice to see ledley king back.










amongst the crowd and the police
outside the ground

a sniff of the holidays

i'm exhausted. that's in addition to this lingering query whether or not i jotted down an entry in one clinical form during the last shift. when the next days are going to be swamped with the holiday grind and the answer wouldn't be until friday, i'm held in deep suspense. again, i've learned some critical insights. if only the world doesn't screech to a halt during christmas day in the uk.

my brother P woke up at three am on the 25th to prepare the menu for a christmas day with my parents at the hills. the thought of losing my dearest mom and dad still reverberates, especially when i get condescending stares and vehemence from the wicked witches of the north who never ceased to manifest their tempers to the world, while my folks were taken away from us. but the stares are no longer as rooted as the early days of the year. the change of scenery breathe a few perspectives professionally. although i want nothing more than for my brothers to glide along in career contentment.

this year, no matter how tacky, we got a christmas tree. i'm so reluctant to let go of the presents. they're nice adornments. the tree would be so bare without them. it remains to be seen how long can i last without opening one wrapped item. coming up with only a middling array of gifts for the eternal loved ones didn't deter my "no-time-to shop" mindframe in reveling in the spirit of the season. although i know this so-called christmas free time would soon fade as i'll be stuck welcoming the new year in the pink walls of our work station. would the new year fireworks be grand? we'll see.

happy christmas everyone!

two bits of laurie

i love watching hugh laurie. his sardonic wit can easily hold his audience captive whether he's in character or not, although there seems to be a chasm (only to the uninitiated) between his two personas. he may be the yankee brillitant jerk in house but he is high-brow british. eton and cambridge educated. both fry and laurie pushes me to ponder whether a school background is vital in attaining, in the words of jane eyre, fervid eloquence. based on some examples, not necessarily. but it's still bliss to be enveloped in profound and astute ambience.

brothers and the pba

my younger brothers and i have been through a lot. if you're one of those people who've been nice and kind to any one of my dearest brothers through our trying times, bless your heart. don't mind me. i can take comments like , "o, bakit mestizo mga kapatid mo, ikaw mukhang native?" ha? knowing my mom, she would only produce a hearty chuckle upon hearing that comment.

anyway, the two youngest brothers watched the pba swing in bacolod. purefoods against some team. was it Air 21?

i asked king's --- "wala gid kamu nagpa-picture upod kay james yap?"
P -- "masal-an pa to kami karon nga a_i. kadamu pa nga daan ko to chicks nga kilala."

if i were there of course, i would be able to tap kris' husband's shoulders and ask for an autograph. only for fun.

dvd wait

in the mid-90's, i was sucked into the vortex that was mara clara. i'm still relishing being submerged in that same vortex. ryan agoncillo describes this dramedy better than anyone else, even better than the director himself who also wrote the film and also one of my favorite essay writers. i think the former review night host was talking to boy abunda during the promo. or was it in another showbiz oriented show? anyhow, a sneak preview from a jasry fan site. thanks.

wintry glares

this time of the year is always a rush. i'm not talking about christmas shopping. it's the season of long nights and short days. i'm always in a rush to catch daylight. the layers i have to wear get my ire and they're always not enough. as a tropical country oldie, i'm cold. not freezing cold, but it's frosty.

bracing myself for an atonement sweep in the BAFTAs, the golden globe's announcement ushered a brand new awards season. i have this habit of not snuggling the projects of actors who aren't in my slumbook list -- keira knightley, brangelina, cb, etc. though reading that one half of the brangelina duo snared a nomination is a bummer, i do what i do best, look the other way and admit the power of their tabloid machinery which is espoused by one fan too many.

it's just human nature to take sides and not like someone, especially when it comes to celebrities, or politics or sports. i don't like roger federer, one bit. or any other nba team aside from the lakers. being partisan constitute our personality structures in this world and that's way better than not having a choice at all.

i'm dreaming of the sun and white sand beaches.
if only....





season's greetings!

creep

i'm supposed to talk about boxing, the welterweight fight between ricky hatton and floyd mayweather as the topic. however, as it was pay per view, i didn't get to see the action and the five am start time (uk time) did me in. i can't wake up that early and i can't sleep too early either. but it would have been neat to be able to witness two great fighters spar. when is the dela hoya fight?

it's not easy being a sports fan. not a lot of the work colleagues follow sports (who cares who won the last table tennis world championships?) and none of my friends. so i live a pretty lonely existence. when you have no one to share your interests, it's like talking to a wall. but i got used to it over the years. so many extroverted atmospheres are not my scenes. it's probably great to meet new people at parties, but i always have this urge to distance myself from the penetrating gazes of muckrakers.

in another scope of fascination, the london concerts of both foo fighters and radiohead at wembley stadium and victoria park respectively, are sold out. the playdates are in june. but my sweet babe has told me that it's only sold out from their own websites. hopefully there's still hope.

it's also like the west end production of othello with chiwetel ejiofor as othello and ewan macgregor as iago. also sold out. i know i should have watched macgregor in guys and dolls two years ago. or try to sneak into christian slater's gig in swimming with sharks in its remaining run. but who knows something might come up in the next few weeks.

a lovely art site

my tita wan gave me a link to her heartwarming art site. for someone like myself who can't even draw a straight line, her artwork never fails to bring a sense of pride. i was walking along hampstead more than two weeks ago, passing along the galleries in the ritzy neighborhood, when it dawned on me that she deserved a full scale exhibit. when that time comes, i'll be one of the firsts in the queue.

a date with macbeth

it was a rainy night. if hubby and i sat nearer than where we were reserved, we would have been more drenched. in watching plays, shakespeare in particular, it's always a good idea to be a few seats back. remember gary oldman's advice on friends? "actors should enunciate!" meaning, it's not intended, but the enduring efficacy of drool permeates during crescendos, and it did during that wintry shakespearean night.

the play was word by word shakespeare. my upbringing wasn't that crude, but it wasn't high-brow either, i got by, though impatiently. macbeth may not be as long as hamlet. but it was still almost three hours. i got to see patrick stewart act, in the flesh and acquired an even greater admiration for shakespearean actors. those super long monologues. wow!

i couldn't wait to read some more classics. shakespeare is very relevant. macbeth is about murder and greed that the first world inhabitants couldn't comprehend. it's like the renegade soldiers in my country. why do rebels rebel? what do they want to accomplish? it's not about the country or its people, it's for their own selfish pursuits.

a tale of two daniels

almost a week ago, i was able to devour revealing interviews on two celebrities going by the name of daniel. the older one, whose profiled appeared on the ny times mag and whose mesmerizing portrayals never fail to leave me in awe. while the younger other reminds me of my age, as he's young enough to be my offspring. both english with posh accents, daniel day- lewis and daniel radcliffe, from their celluloid characters to their real lives, are simply treasured by their fans.

i may not be as fascinated with the lush greens of oscar wilde's birthplace the way daniel day-lewis has embraced its serene features, but i have always been a fan of his acting chops. for the other daniel, mr. radcliffe, his charm lies in his hobbies in between productions. in direct contrast to princess diana's sons, the teenager does not like hibernating in the club circuits, which is a breath of fresh air compared to the generic young, rich and the restless undertakings.

the first and the only time i saw left foot was eons ago. i was still in school and in my late teens or i just hit twenty, i'm still hazy in the age aspect. despite the bravura day-lewis performance (probably the best ever in movie history), i fell asleep midway through the flick. i was just tired from school. after more than 15 years, i haven't found the time to finish the movie. but i know i would someday. from the age of innocence to gangs of new york, his name conjures its own brand of magic. i scoured all the web, stayed up all night during the oscars, waiting for him to win an academy award for gangs, but it wasn't meant to be. i was branded a gossip by a ginger spice look-alike boss by the mere fact i printed out his acceptance speech from the SAG Awards and gushing on its contents before handover. a method actor, it's a pity that day-lewis is not as prolific as the tabloid fodders. but a hardbound cineaste with taste can always pinpoint genuine talent. how i wish he would give the stage one more go and forget about seeing ghosts of his father.

harry potter is a universal brand that has made the youthful daniel radcliffe financially secured for life. In the ES interview, radcliffe reveals his affinity to poetry and as i indicated above, his reluctance to laze in the nightclub spotlight as he hates the music and the paparazzi. he's almost a demigod and he's a homebody? as the likes of harry's chelsy may find him boring, the film world's most famous wizard is maybe within the grasps of bespectacled bookworms.

jabbers and stuff

my husband says my paragraphs are too winded. whatever the crap he means. nah, what he's driving at, is that i beat around the bush. the words are long. the sentences are convoluted. but to quote my dearest one, "i don't care." i get cranky. my bakya side surfaces frequently in these pages and my paragraphs are replete with personal pronouns. but as some colleagues love to potter around their garden, or cook with a passion and view me as a kitchen cipher (i can concoct dishes, mind you), i get to express myself in writing. one of my saving graces from all the audacity i'm flooded with far away from the homeland.

bumping into one of the ladies in dark blue at work, she revealed she doesn't waste her pennies on paid publications, i. e. magazines, tabloids, broadsheets, the likes. after tearing the new yorker to smithereens and brandishing IQ scores, she catapulted herself to a level so high i could never ever reach. she's one interesting person actually. seeing through the haughtiness, she speaks with sense and there's a hidden kindness not apparent from the fairweathers.

speaking of magazines, i used to collect a weekly mag in my early teens, in addition to one national broadsheet. i've restructured over the years but my stash are still tons compared to my contemporaries. like my mom, i always look for things to read when in someone else's living room. my compilation poses a problem when i hurl myself to a new abode due to the weight. but it's fascinating to travel back in time, only through the print possessions and the clippings, which i also file in boxes and envelopes.

carrie's entryway, or a mere bookshelf for mags alone would be joyous. but i don't have the latitude at this junction, our books are still on the floor. not to mention, i'd rather have a wooden structure for all the CD's i've stepped on accidentally. the repositories i've assembled would do for the mags for now.

the web is taking over the functions of tv at this point. people are uploading shows, and all i do is download. if i don't like a scene i just forward it or forward the whole show altogether and watch only the scenes i like. same with recorded television, and the dvd's with the selected scenes features. as i would be awaiting dvd's from home, hopefully philpost would not turn into a real ligaw liham.

day job

i moan about work a lot, a lot, a lot. the scarcity of much needed support in a quite intense environment gets to my nerves.

last year, i was shaking my head, co-workers were simply swathed with their own press release. anybody with a little reading, i reckon, can sense the drift of high K and dangling phosphates and creatinines. a little bit of plumbing skills doesn't automatically transform a mere mortal into a supreme entity. i don't like the noise nor a quite caustic hauteur. but i don't get to bump into those B's now. that's by chance and by choice.

through the wonders of rotation, i've shifted back to the more chaotic, more stressful workplace. i've hurt my hand the other day and my wedding ring, my most cherished possession needs to be taken to the jewelers. the pain is the most excruciating i've felt and i've had two induced labors.

every job has issues. but it's always pleasant to be nice and more heartwarming to be friendly.

lurker

slacking my way around web forums the fast few days have certainly added some contour into my web time. it's invigorating to solely read rather than write and communicate as it's awkward during the introductory phase. i got so disappointed with one thread. there was the central topic but the sub-topic was highly-conflicting and made me think about choices in this world.

in between being stimulated by the conversations amongst drifters (to me at least), i've chanced upon a couple of lav diaz interviews. it would be a treat to watch his films but it's not standard cinema. i'm not sure if dvd's are available for any of his works. batang west side is five hours long while his other features have ten hours viewing time. i kind of agree with some of his statements, but it's a fact that majority of the filipinos or the masses, straightforwardly avoid deeper, more profound films, those visualizing the ills of society, most of the time. one of the highest grossing films of all time in the philippines is ang tanging ina, with ai ai, a supposed to-be spoof of the tearjerker, ang tanging yaman, which depicts a story of a filipino family's dynamics. i cannot render judgments on things i haven't seen. and tanging ina, and sukob for that matter, the movie that overtook the former from its lofty perch, are not my preferred films.

radiohead and faust

to be able to comprehend radiohead's In Rainbows properly, i had to familiarise myself with the great polymath goethe and his two-part closet drama epic faust -- faust's concern with the true essence of life, leading to his deal with mephistopheles (the devil). perhaps that's in itself the essence of attending a private school education, like the members of this talented band radiohead, the abingdon school in oxfordshire is no pushover. radiohead as young men were able to grasp the classics and tap into that knowledge for their music. unless i win the lottery, entry to a prep school for my offsprings in england would be too farfetched to even contemplate.

back to In Rainbows, it's a mesmerizing compilation, replete with languid acoustic ballads, with thom yorke's vocals filling the air with heartbreaking longings. the kind of music you want to listen when all the pent-up emotions are getting battered by defeat. all the tracks are good. there is certainly no weakness in this set. the album's tone is not all about sunshine and singin in the rain stuff, no glimpse of a happy ending. but it's a deluxe listening companion. the titles are not your usual's blunt's with weird fishes/arpeggi, so hypnotic through its soothing rhythm guitar while faust arp with its recoiling beats and imaginative lyrics is simply vintage radiohead.

according to the new york times, the next step with this latest project from the oxford boys would be an online package of two cd's, two vinyl records with a booklet for 40 big quid and In Rainbows as a single cd release in january. standard counter price, i presume. i have to include that in my gift list, acquiring the set would soften blow of missing a date with ewan mcgregor as iago in othello's run at the donmar.

waterworks

i'm still hurting, actually. i've accepted the fact that i could cry on cue.

it would be heartwarming to go home during these times. see the young brothers. let the tears roll and visit my parents at the hills. but nah, i'm stuck in one of the most multi-cultural cities in the world, absorbing all the rumbles and gripes of the frivolous sandbars. i know all my contacts in the wide universe are stamped with daily precariousness, making it so impossible to compose a very simple e-mail. the climate is filled with stress and tension. in every frown and unnecessary squawks, there sometimes lies a lucid and sunny disposition. but it's very rare. it's sweet to meet a generous soul. an unselfish persona who tinkers the mind not only with the numbers and the words, the elusive louis vuittons, the obsessive pursual for leonardo dicaprio's (or his ilk's) unbridled devotion (brad pitt is a boring interview) and to reach the top of the career ladder which could be stifled when a subordinate wins tens of millions in one lottery. there are certainly entities who value the style and symmetry of the human spirit. our lives could be in direr straits.

my eyes are now aching badly. but i still got a warm body to hug.

procrastination 101

after all the vexations it has wrought, my cough, particularly my cold is now over. i still feel weak in certain aspects, it's just maybe due to my perpetual laziness or i'm floating in my self-inflicted malaise. both blogging and house chores took a beating. i didn't like missing work as i've surely missed tons this year. this is what a change of season does to me, it's probably nature's way of saying i should change my eating habits --- eliminate some carbo loaded foods, include more fruits and vegetables in the diet.

since i'm imprisoned inside the comforts of my nest, i get to wallow in my inner bakya persona (i should use jologs, but i exteremely hate that term). baduy is my other favorite word. that's what i have always been, bakya, baduy. i was a vilmanian when i was one and a half (roughly that age), then after viewing all the nora aunor classics (post guy and pip) on cinema one in the early part of this decade, i've seen daylight and caught on with the critics. there's no replacement for good acting, whether she's a superstar, megastar, a character actress. what is sad though is the dearth of filipino films these days. was it only the last decade when there was at least a pinoy movie opening every week? i wasn't much of a fan of action pictures, but they provide a vehicle to ease the burden of the unemployment crunch. i didn't mind a tito, vic and joey or a dolphy starrer, though i've never paid on my own to watch a pinoy comedy on the big screen. not even okay ka fairy ko, the movie, whose tv rendition i was glued into during its decade-long run on three channels. i don't watch ai-ai or a spoof comedy film whether in the movies or on tv.

as i unearth tidbits from my memory reel, i go back in time when i was ten, i was bawling my tears for yagit the movie, venting my animosity on gretchen in 14 going steady (janice was flordeluna and i used to dig her big time), sat in the front of the theater for bagets 2 ( i was already 11 then), observed that eddie garcia was in one movie every week. but that was 1984 (1985 for bagets 2), and the marcoses were still in power. eat bulaga was the number one noontime variety show. fast forward to 2007, eat bulaga is still around, holding firm in this age of constant flux. these days, it's considered good business if there's a filipino film opening every month.

but despite the lack of pinoy movies being made ( i still have to dip my feet into cinemalaya indies) tons of actor-wannabes are being discovered through reality shows, ie -- big brother, one of the endemol-produced programs whose uk version is totally unpalatable (that's just me talking). before thalia's marimar conquered pinoy tv in 1995, not a single primetime local soap was in existence. now there are tons -- drama and fantasy. a dramedy soap started and ended with luv ko si babes. thanks to all the pangako sa yo coinage, the term teleserye was born. i like the term soap opera better as it's more universal.

bumping into a clip of pinoy marimar recently, made me shudder. i'm not into the network wars. perhaps i've been spoiled with the nora-vilma, even sharon, maricel characterizations of my youth, but i know bad acting when i see one. lured by the flawless skins of venezuelan actors in la traidora, i followed the dubbed exploits of marimar on rpn 9. most of the interiors were shot in a studio -- the santibanez house, the aldama mansion, event the resort's office. but the pace and specially the acting was convincing. probably that was the magic of thalia, who was also effective in maria la del barrio and rosalinda. the GMA writers maimed the story arc a bit. in the original, angelica was never sergio's ex-girlfriend, she was merely a young stepmom. plus sergio was not taken with the chutzpah of bella aldama and had a son with another woman.

but rags to riches stories are always a great fodder for a country in earnest third world image, specially the capital, metro manila. our psych is still concentrated on the appeal of the white skin or the knock-out figure of those babes on FHM. our market is flooded with whitening lotions and creams that never work. that's the attraction of marimar -- marian rivera's bikini-beauty fair skin, definitely not the acting. add to that manilans or the the whole urban luzon, no longer swayed by the conjurations of the lopez network. who cares about a fine performance when we all want to be white (while a tanned skin is such a charm for the whites)? it's not my ysabella subconscious talking. i don't watch judy ann santos for her body type. i hate confrontational scenes which are always a feature in her starrers most especially ysabella. but i can't see any of juday's "quickie" acting habits, picked up in soaps and anthologies, as interminably pointed out by nestor torre all these years. are those habits pertain to her facial tics and expressions, or the diction in delivery? i've read torre's article again and again and i still couldn't find any fault in judy ann santos' renditions, though i download ysabella everyday. what i see are her expressive eyes and with those bold and precarious tears, one can easily feel her pain.

through the fascinating atrributes of web video, i get stuck impairing my eyesights staring at the computer screen, as usual. i've forgotten tv. four episodes of ugly betty are still waiting. i'm now ruing having missed the elimination round of university challenge. it wouldn't hurt maybe if i'll play one episode through sky plus -- another product of the rupert murdoch domain, here at medieval britain, his son james is in-charge of cable operations.

one of these days, i'll watch tv.

autumn twist

it's during times like these when i miss my mom. she was so adept with her social skills that it makes me wonder why i still could not labor successfully in the ice age. my friend gee's mom once uttered that "taking care of sick people is merely common sense." my daytime subsistence is not rocket science. it's harder to construct a profound short story or compose deep, meaningful poetry. but in every workplace there is bitchiness and it takes more than poise and solid grounding to survive a deluge of pompous behavior.

my head is killing me as i'm writing these, one of those moments i'm not lingering, lying haplessly in bed drooling in elevated temperature. the change of weather (or the monotonous countdown to the next summer) did me in as well as the hubby's cold which took him a week to conquer. i'm slowly finishing off the world's supply of tissue paper in my sniffling state and with all the green imbroglio hugging the headlines and al gore becoming a nobel laureate, i've decided that zac goldsmith is an overprivileged toff.

in my bed, are the accumulated newspapers -- owned by the same company, metro (yes, my friends, the free paper) and the evening standard, i have started dipping into them but not in its entirety. i forgot i've got to clip the christian slater interview (is tamara mellon a keeper?) and bookmark the liar by fry that is taking me months to finish. i haven't tinkered the television remote since my parents left us, in sombre tones, except perhaps some tweaking with the web for shows uploaded by fellow members of select fan clubs. then there's the glee in embedding shakespeare in one's thoughts -- patrick stewart, ian mckellen and jude law aka macbeth (i'm definitely going), king lear and hamlet. i couldn't wait. but the jury is still out with the off duty.

but the highly-addictive blogs i've crashed into accidentally have kept me going for the reviews and tiered, rindered observations of current issues of the day. hopefully some colleagues would join the blogosphere. then it would be politically-correct to ask if its all about the writing, the uploads, or the photos. we could wipe away all the gossips, the senseless grandstanding, all the smudges that affect the universe by reading more and practice expressing our emotions through highly-evolved letter-strings. if only i can stop coughing and snorting. i don't like having a cold. not at all.

a bleacher view of garnett

i got stumped on ray allen. the nba star was shooting three's from all corners that i became curious of his transfer. why the switch to the celtics? i even had to text my brother about his drafting history, never mind philippine time. my intuition goes blank about the nba and basketball in general these days that the only wolves players i recognized from the roster were mark madsen ( the former shaq back-up was in a suit, injured, obviously only in london for the free tour) and juwan howard who only attempted a few shots that it's mind-boggling he once had a huge contract. our seats were all the way back. was it the undoing of the mystical corporates who made the tickets vanish too quickly? i was submerged (and still am) in my tears during the last few months that i wasn't aware of the seating plan.

the game was enjoyable, the O2 center was huge and impressive. garnett committed turnovers after turnovers. but from tip-off, pundits and pseudo- hoop experts were all aware there was no way the celtics would be vanquished by garnett's former team. the nba is defined by super players. there should be a star in every position and a very reliable second team in addition to an all-star sixth man. i wasn't able to spot an illegal defense violation. i was brushing myself with the rules as though i was eight again. in light of being in close proximity to european games the last few years, all the waiting times in the huddle during timeouts have made my subconscious linger in eternal stupor. north american sports are too long. i've never thought halftime entertainment could powder off my bittersweet langour. my husband and i structured a hasty exit with tons of time left, just to avoid the nerve-racking crowd. but the nba experience was still an exhilarating, joyous occasion. someday we will watch the lakers, hopefully also in london so that magic johnson could get to travel.

flaxseed

i can't say i was shocked. there was always this hint of doubt. perhaps it's near impossible to be intimately involved with two prominent track and field athletes who admitted to steroid use without being lured yourself to the inflammable highs of further career propulsions. for world class athletes or even minor jocks, the appeal of greater stamina in training, building more muscles, clocking even faster times is too much of a draw. but marion jones was not kelli white. she was a cover girl. she was flo jo a decade later. when flo jo passed away in 1998, i was in singapore, it didn't cause a ripple nor a stir in our tiny 105 flat. sports is not that huge amongst my contemporary female acquaintances. perhaps if merely a little of our concentration is afforded on sports, we would have had our first olympic gold medal and the writers of desperate housewives or the daily mail readers, wouldn't have to blurt out, "you're from the third world? yuck." but america, already submerged in the citius, altius, fortius (swifter, higher, stronger) creed still gets greedy and those who fell from grace, the likes of jones and floyd landis, succinctly illustrates that all that glitters is not gold.

query baseball fan

there would be no baseball playoffs for me this october. the padres needed one run. but nah, that didn't materialize against the rockies. no wildcard berth. nothing. i have to wait for march again, the beginning of the 2008 season. i've been a baseball fickle since the braves dropped maddux. who knows which team i'm going to root for next year. yeah, there should be a law against that. at least i'm no longer a blatant glory-hunter (mlb photo).

my bacolod heart

bacolod will always be home, wherever i might be in the world. manila, in contrast, could not conjure a similar magical fascination. the longest i've stayed in manila was two weeks. these days, in my london hub, the only time i get to utter my dearest hiligaynon dialect is when i talk to my brothers on the phone. it's all tagalog with fellow pinoys at work, the language spoken by the tv people when i was a child.

as the capital of negros occidental province, bacolod city lies 24 kilometers to the south from bago city. to the north is talisay (city), only seven kilometers from baranggay bata. murcia is just nearby mansilingan, but i'm not exactly sure how far it is from the city. this might be like an abstract maze to a non-negrense, but it irks me when i'm in the lift and some pinoys think (through small talk) that bacolod is another name for the province of negros occidental. bacolod is the city capital. negros occidental is the province. if only it's as easy a conundrum as iloilo. but that's another matter.

my hometown may not be as cosmopolitan as cebu or manila but we get by. i envy cebu and bohol of their white sand beaches. but in every angle, the city of smiles is home. the masskara festival this october will once again ignite the city to a frenzy. chicken inasal (it's just called inasal to us natives) is our contribution to filipino cuisine. before there was only manukan, now there's chicken deli, chicken house and every dining establishment who serves chicken on a stick (as my husband refers to inasal). i don't think inasal is that unhealthy. it's not cordial to the arteries. but who says we shouldn't eat laswa? where would i find piaya in north london? a colleague once spewed, "naku mabibili lang iyan sa megamall." it's not the same, folks.

my generation didn't have the malls in our innocent years. it's more vibrant during these present times, as if the quality of existence is defined by boutiques, shops, eateries, cinemas, a department store and a supermarket in one building. lest we forget the parking lot. for me it's always the bookstore. a national bookstore branch may have sprung up too late for my bacolod heart, but it makes every homecoming extra sweeter knowing its there.

i still speak my tagalog with an ilonggo accent. there are ilonggos who speak ilonggo with a tagalog accent but they're ilonggos. i don't know why it's an issue that "parehos man lang kamu ilonggo nga-a ma-tinagalog pa kamu? te abi." contrary to the stereotype in filipino culture, we're not that backward in the south. our lives are just little less chaotic.

now for the video :

game plan was one of my favorite programs during the late 90's. but i wasn't able to tag the show during its studio 23 years. but now there's probe tv and thank goodness for this tiny bits of thrill.

telly blathers

since my sked was loaded with hibernating and staring at the wall (it's not nice to be this down), i was only able to get a glimpse of the emmy's telecast five days after its live coverage. i knew the winners beforehand but jaime pressley's win eluded my previous scans. for someone who had a playboy pitch three years earlier (or was it four?), winning an emmy is an extraordinary achievement. the telecast exceeded my three hours recorded time. i would've wanted hugh laurie to clutch a trophy for house (which i watch) or at least james gandolfini for the sopranos (which my husband allocates some viewing time). but it was james spader who had stolen from the mob. there is still next year though. i know the coverage would still be unbelievably long but hopefuly it would be worth the wait.

next season's would also be er's last as reported from sources here and there. i love stanley tucci. he was utterly adorable as a fashion editor in that prada film with streep and hathaway. in er, he's the chief -- strict, masterly and cerebral. also in er, two doctors not only look dashing but have similar features. luka (goran visjnic) is leaving. but the john stamos character, a sizzling hot, flamboyant paramedic-turned-doctor stays. i was left bewildered however. during a breather in stamos career, the many years in between full house and er, what did he pursue in a decade's span? was he PA to the olsen twins? did he scale any valley other than marrying and divorcing a supermodel?

with the temperatures settling into single-digits celsius, i still thrive in seclusion (pathetic i know but videoke leaves me disjointed). sealed dvd's, letters to send, people to locate, texts to study, papers to process are still in my to-do list. i got to penetrate my unconventional bakya side in the pinoy soaps department, something to get cheesy about after being fleshed-out dealing with the hang-ups of work. there's no such thing as a jologs or a baduy pinoy or even a chav in brit term, it's the milieu of upbringing, the lorelai-rory synergy. i really dig those slum notes queries on social networking sites. a certain film can dissect an individual's refinement. our tv choices reflect not only our personalities but our inner selves. it's comforting when a show is easy to watch, and doesn't make you think. the sopranos makes us refine our human turbulence which no single episode of women from wisteria lane can even attempt to envisage. if we watch soaps, does it mean we're shallow? not really (because i'm defending myself). it just means we're bored and boredom is part and parcel of our lives. it can also be beautiful. that's not chav.

comments gone awry

work was exhausting friday. running errands all day debilitates my frail spirit. i'm not huge on leaving work late but i had no choice. but we've all got to toil hard in order to survive. except for some people who are already floating in money or currencies, working is part of life. in the fuchsia-painted walls, everybody is hard-up or pretends to be one in order to feign humility.

trawling into showbiz tabloid sites or even a broadsheet entertainment page is part of my day. reading from computer knowing it ruins me eyes is invigorating. E! news is stale as i don't really want to re-create a jessica simpson look. i have my fill of brangelina from the enquirer (i always forget her brother's name). so i read JAS articles. and her critics are mean. the scathing comments are enough to bruise even the thickest of egos. if showbiz followers and wannabes don't like someone or do not dote on her filmography and discography, why not just ignore her publicist's spread? don't buy the album. they're not being held at gun point to go see her films or listen to her chant no ordinary love. as i've read from simon cowell, the record industry is all about business. a singer may have the most beautiful voice in the world but if she's unknown, the album would not sell and the producers would not make money. one of the acid-tongued cowell's early record producing ventures was an album by the undertaker, i haven't even heard the WWE wrestler talk. but it made money. c'est la vie.

when gilmore girls was still on the air, during the early seasons, i would read vilifying anti-dean comments from teenagers, or i presume they were teenagers. dean wasn't boring to me but i was not a teenager ( i was from the BH 90210 generation and that series made the only character i like look the typical geek -- glasses, hideous style, braces). fans were not too keen on dean. it was all about jess this, jess that. people like rebels, i get it. i'd skipped the comments section but somehow there's this temptation, a push and shove to read.

web anonymity is such a charm that it is now the medium to hurl insults on issues and personalities. andrew keen, author of the cult of the amateur, in a metro newspapaper quote, believes " it's vital to establish social parameters online rather than leave the internet to take its own course." i know it's their opinions and it's next to impossible to expect proper decorum from every individual. it's the same with video comments, viewers have so much freedom propelling jives. enfeebling these comments is, i reckon, the way to go unless there's a software to ward off offensive observations or a very strict moderator to manage entries.

syntax diaries

a couple of days ago, i was turning the pages on the series of reflections i wrote almost five years to the day. marked by a scruffy banbury educator, the penmanship wasn't pleasing to the eyes as always. i couldn't spell teetering and i also typically crafted my unfamiliar brand of metaphors. it wasn't my fault that the marker didn't know the etymology of picaresque, or how the word was used in the context of my sentence. there was also a note of reprimand for the extra writing i was doing on the side (how i miss those idyllic extras). rewinding back, we also did one presentation in those two heyday weeks of english language lectures where i couldn't get words out and was shaken all throughout my talk.

during the one-on-one interview with that same banbury teacher days later, i used an awkward term to describe my "mumbling and shaking" and he said "i haven't heard of that word, " not even providing a few synonyms for the phrase and dismissing me just like that as if he couldn't be bothered. checking resources thereafter, it was clearly a fine adjective to describe my below par presentation. scruffy marker also didn't concur with the high marks i got from the head lecturer. his assessments completely shattered my confidence and i've never recovered from that tumble. eight more weekly lectures followed afterwards and a new teacher was added to the group. tall and willowy, named after one of shakespeare's most famous heroines, she described the harry potter films as " too hollywood," and that she could only have affinity with european cinema. miss capulet was so high up in her lofty perch and that the blockbusters couldn't penetrate her innate snobbery. i just thought she was being haughty.

reading page after page, my writings weren't all that awful, knowing i scrawled them in a hoof. how i've changed since those uncluttered weeks. those were the good old days. i miss some simple camaraderie. but as my mom always reminded me, read to escape the hurt. don't forget to write.

west end plays

The Country Wife
Theatre Royal Haymarket
27 September - 12 January
starring : patricia hodge toby stephens david haig
directed by jonathan kent

(toby stephens as rochester in jane eyre)





Present Laughter (noel coward)
National Theatre
25 September - 3 November
starring : alex jennings lisa dillon


Macbeth
Gielgud Theatre
21 September - 01 December
starring : patrick stewart


Swimming with Sharks
Vaudeville Theatre
5 October -- 19 January
starring : christian slater helen baxendale


Glengarry Glen Ross
Apollo Theatre
27 September - 12 January
starring : Jonathan Pryce


Shadowlands
Wyndham's Theatre
3 October -- 15 January
starring : charles dance

bearing turmoils

since filipino culture is suffused on judgments that people rather gossip than show genuine concern on the downtrodden, forging lasting friendships becomes complicated. collecting acquaintances may be an easier task but sifting through the real ones creates fervors and challenges for both mind and emotion. when a friend experiences indelible losses and heartaches, one tend to become sympathetic. though empathy is more heartfelt and finer in zeal and ardor.

we're just human when we render unequivocal judgments. it always goes back to breeding. school and work are distinct social backdrafts. at school, the characters are more or less the same age and economic backgrounds. at work, it's far more varied, there could be age, geographical and financial gaps. how do people of divergent upbringings thrive harmoniously in such emulous and antagonistic milieu? it's always a matter of tolerance and learning to develop thick skins. to paraphrase my friend cj, i shouldn't let anyone drag me down. what about the narrow-minded section of the universe? my pity thoughts tend to amplify. it's a matter of digging deep into the core and be more compassionate.

since i didn't catch the virus that inflicted lohan, hilton (paris and nicky), the nightingales, et al, i will just wallow not in misery or the federer-henin express, but the ongoing pursuits to secure tickets to the foo fighters and kanye west performances at the O2 arena (separate concerts, same venue), get into the groove of sifting through mobile contacts, lose the extra weight, channel emily dickinson (that would make me even more reclusive) and creativity. read the books gathering dusts. be kind.

"I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonal month endows"

-john keats -

pieces and morsels

these past tv seasons, i've witnessed fans dote on mcdreamy, buoy wentworth miller in prison break, help save the cheerleader and embrace heroes as a favorite, sharpen wits in keeping up with the twists and turns in lost (apologies for all the puns). whilst i stick by my old time choices like er (i know it's not as highly-rated as greys). there are tons of shows to watch on the telly. we can peruse E! all day and take sides between holly and kendra (i take kendra any day-- how did she ever stand next to george lucas?). i've missed my share of nba and baseball actions. technology though has been kind. being quietly curious, i can pause and record. then gaze at all recorded programs in my tv menu including sights of william and harry stooping and kissing all the royal cousins and elders at the guards chapel. how diana's boys have grown. those army shoulders. those genes.

i depend on the generosity of strangers on you tube for my ysabella fix. having abandoned the lopez network when eat bulaga was not renewed in '95 and had to transfer to GMA, i just go back for the usual dose of JAS soaps or guestings. pinoy tearjerkers aren't that mesmerizing. but i do check on JAS when time indulges it. i've heard and read all the scornful opinions of her (look who's talking?). although i've missed esperanza, bkk, krystala and sa piling mo -- almost half of her output, i was here and somewhere, unable to tune in. hopefully the dvd's would come on trickling not only for my vacuous stabs but to the engaging pop culture references of the gilmore girls and the hypnotic sarcasms of house.

when i was romping in contemplation the other day, it occured to me that i haven't been exposed to a karaoke party in two years. not that my retiring self mind too much. it's just too much solitary confinement that it's already bordering on weirdness. i don't fancy an invite. i can't sing. but despite keeping to myself during days off i haven't been an omnivorous reader. not enough fiction in my to-read list. not enough fiction either in my to-write list. i'm trying. but not desperately. there's a dearth of visuals as well. knocked up is so ingeniously jocular, loaded with caveats. but why am i not chortling in the cinema?

the ordeal of the past months will never be abated. i will always remember and never forget. people brush it off, submerged in their own quandaries. there's this pinch of yearning. at least you were not able to experience my throbbing twinges. or those haunting visions.

away to fulham

tottenham hotspur 3 fulham FC 3

craven cottage
1st september 2006

"four thousand disenchanted tottenham fans couldn't believe their team had thrown away a two- goal lead to a quite frankly an inadequate fulham side who would be lucky to finish in the top half of the season," quoting my husband, a tottenham fan, a day after the fact.

accents and drawls

azing at the very tiny screen and trying to relate to harry potter's accent, i can't help feeling a tinge of envy, this assemble of talents in the movie franchise enunciates beautifully. granted that robbie coltrane is scottish (and we've all heard of scottish accents, right?) but he could change drawls in a click, just like james mcAvoy, who was so impressive in shameless sporting a manchester tongue. the other members of the harry potter cast-- maggie smith, david thewlis, richard griffiths, emma thompson, alan rickman, julie walters, gary oldman, i can go on and on are stalwarts of british theatre. all capable of speaking posh and probably spoke posh in their normal existence.

     

daniel radcliffe, emma watson, rupert grint had lived comfortable lives, gone to public schools (term for private learning institutions in britain) and by a stroke of good luck made even richer being cast in the harry potter film series. these kids need not go to university, read literature at cambridge (oxbridge grads are set for life anyway and reading i think is a very english term for a bachelor's degree), get stuck at dead-end jobs. glancing through her profile, emma watson attended headington school, a very expensive learning hide-out for the rich and a stone's throw from my former abode in oxford.  while both daniel and rupert attended all-boys schools.

as i currently read and try to grasp stephen fry's first novel, i think of hugh laurie and my dilly-dally decision not to have acquired the dvd of the first season of house. the high brow comedies with both fry and laurie such as blackadder and a bit of fry and laurie comes to mind as well as those members of the cambridge footlights revue -- fry, laurie, emma thompson, ben elton and their success stories. before a peek of blackadder, i didn't even know that mr. bean graduated from oxford and through a profusion of coverage in british publications, these hollywood deities attended oxbridge; actors rachel weisz, rosamund pike, hugh grant, even kate beckinsale though she didn't finish her degree at new college oxford, directors' paul greengrass and stephen frears. adding those intellect to their specialized talents endowed them to parlay their creative side. hollywood though is a great leveller. la lohan didn't even go to high school but continues to make a dent with her projects and tabloid exploits. only two people from the cast of friends graduated from college -- lisa kudrow and david schwimmer, but it made the ensemble of six comfortably rich.

we may not be able to decipher the hierarchical differences in american accents except through geography i.e. southern, redneck ( i'm addicted to jerry springer), boston, texas. in britain, it's not only through the intricacies of the map, the endless deviations in the class system never cease to create an imprint in people's lives. although being northern is considered prosaic by southerners. just like the rest of the world, the level of connections and/or gaining access into the best schools provide great support for a noteworthy career.

the queen, the princess

it took me months to secure a bargain dvd and after seeing the film, i'm left with befuddlement. helen mirren was marvelous. michael sheen was spot on as tony blair. with the story arc, the title could have easily been the queen and the new prime minister. or the queen and tony blair. the movie was centered on that ill-fated week after princess diana lost her life through a car crash in paris and how the queen, the head of the commonwealth reached a compromise with a freshly elected labour prime minister in handling the public mourning of one of the world's most popular and photographed celebrities.

tony blair may have described diana as a people's princess (coined by alastair campbell as shown in the film) but to the royal family she was just an "annoying" spotlight-grabber who should have forfeited her luster and prominence after her divorce from prince charles. it took several phone calls from the labour leader to convince the queen to consider an ostentatious funeral service rather than the "let the spencers decide proclivity." the production and technical aspects and performance were brilliant. prince philip the character (my, my the language), not james cromwell the actor (wasn't he too towering to play the consort?) was corrosively engaging. prince charles essayed by alex jennings, was such a weakling.

diana's sons william and harry were merely obscured backdrops at balmoral castle. we saw a populace who couldn't contain their sadness and a family who didn't even shed a single teardrop. i'm intrigued if prince charles' sobbing in paris was a cinematic setup. blair threw a tantrum at his republican staff towards the end of the reel as he accentuated the queen's devotion to service, a vow not of her own choosing.

i don't advocate a cherie blair attitude. but though quite stuffy and humdrum, the queen's routines, her duties aren't that lousy and stale. she gets to live in castles and palaces and get curtseyed by subjects. a life where you don't have to think of money. she could always abdicate but the safe haven of being queen is a great mood elevator.

as we commemorate the 10th death anniversary of princess diana, my thoughts are on camilla and her sojourn to the mediterranean. i still reminisce the beguiling diana of my childhood. how i was glued to the press releases, not the tabloid portrait. she had the charm and the people were captivated. but as my husband lays it out "so some posh bird died ten years ago, get over it."

smoulders

manchester united 1 tottenham hotspur 0
26th august 2007 at old trafford

obviously tottenham fans don't agree with the sky sports pundits
who were chanelling their glory-hunting selves.
i've seen penalties awarded for lesser infractions.

despite the not so positive result,
dimitar berbatov is stylishly good looking.
not to mention the most stylish striker in the football galaxy.


"In a world full of Uniteds,
Citys and Rovers, there is only One Hotspur"

pinoy tv

growing up in the 70's and '80's, i've come to associate pinoy showbiz star through the studio system. marciel and snooky were regal babies. sharon cuneta was an exclusive viva star. these days, tv networks have replaced movie outfits as star builders. you're either a kapuso or a kapamilya. if you want to become a star, television is the main medium. films have taken a backseat. actors find work through acting and emoting in soap operas or hosting talk and variety shows. regular tv programs sustains a star's little morsels of bread.

when i was home in bacolod recently, only one channel was visible at rolling hills. that was ABS-CBN, whose bacolod offices were nearby. my cousins from isabela in negros occidental have not heard of any kapuso stars. it's the complexity of the satellite feeds in our part of the visayas. unless you subscribe to cable tv, there was a slim chance you were privy to all the richard gutierrez adventures in his fantasy soaps. i'm only talking from the isabela perspective. it was different when we were in an island adjacent to escalante (northern negros) in october last year. captain barbell was the people's choice from that tiny enclave. i sometimes wonder if manila is the philippines. or the whole manila market is bigger than the rest of the country. why couldn't the powers that be publish the whole archipelago ratings rather than just the capital?

in my meek corner in north london, it's TFC, or ABS-CBN now. GMA has not yet penetrated the uk. but you tube is one tool to curb the yearnings of european pinoys. i'm not really keen on either network. following the shenanigans of the star magic contract talents or gma artist center matinee idols has never pierced through my thoughts. i'm too old. i'm stuck in the vilma, sharon, maricel mode or the laughter evoked by joey de leon in his shows.

i became transfixed on mara clara in '95, three years after its premiere. the diary was still in limbo that time and would continue to go on missing until rpn 9's marimar starring thalia beat tv patrol in the ratings game. mara clara had to go on primetime for its book two and laid the ground work for the great soap revival jumping the trail of flordeluna and ana liza in the early 80's. i wasn't there when fantaseryes propelled their vigor and strength. but my mom was and she liked richard gutierrez. i truly miss our tv repartees.