breaking the kernel

three weeks ago, i succumbed to my barriotic thrills and unload 16 hours of Sa Piling Mo. i was rooting for benicio (albert martinez) to end up with jennifer/catherine (judy ann santos). it was a moot point really as the ending was perceivable by the mere fact it was a juday/piolo vehicle even before the script was written. i got six more dvd's to load, an additional twenty four hours of the same inexplicable storylines. having read the weekly synopsis on wikipedia, i'm torn whether to continue rolling as seeing PP bawl each and every episode is kind of annoying. i reckon compared to sa piling mo, don't give up on us would be a lighter fare to relax before another day of backbreaking kindness unfold. but lo and behold, there was piolo and his tears again. so i entrusted the consistently reliable sakal, sakali, saklolo to perk me up.

although not a cinematic masterpiece by any standards, SSS however would make you shriek in deep howls of laughter. the tandem of judy ann and ryan works. it might have only been a mandatory sequel. but it has the same feel as the comedy films of the 50's and 60's nida-nestor ambience in their dance sequences, or gloria romero aura in manang biday or dalagang ilokana, amalia fuentes' efficiency in operetang sampay bakod ( i spent most my afternoons in the 80's watching old, old movies through sine siyete and sine sa nueve). we have to thank the trend these days. gone are the pinoy musical comedies of the past. in the 80's, a tito, vic and joey starrer wouldn't be complete without a song and dance finale. remember maricel in maria went to town? or sharon in buy one, take one and jack and jill? janice, aga and eddie garcia in ang erpats kong forgets? i could site tons of examples, it's too scary.

SSS is as cosy as friends, my sitcom of choice. it would be even more appreciated as it ages as i've not seen a film in its genre with the same sphere and composure. john en marsha was wonderful in portraying the sterling dimensions of marriage. SSS was able to merge the urbane sophistication of jed's (ryan) parents to the coarse features of angie's (judy ann) mom. angie may may have been more refined than her mother but she prattles like a wife. while jed is in dire need of a backbone. some scenarios, whether some couples admit it or not do occur in reality.

just like any other mortal, i'm biased. what works for me wouldn't automatically operate in the same fashion with the next person. that means cb, keira, brange, jess. it's highly intricate to be objective. i flail in that respect.

skating indulgence

yagudin and plushenko were masters of artistry. both came to mind after the worlds at gothenburg. in either gymnastics or figure skating, one may get overscored through reputation or the whim of an asinine judge. but falling on an apparatus or sliding off the ice is not an option. the will not to fall should be strong. who cares who comes in second if you collar the gold?

snow spirals

i always wish i have a better sense of directions. i got lost strolling outside waterloo station last year, trying to attend my first class at a nearby college. i was late and i don't like being late. the classes now a thing of the past and eurostar moving to st. pancras, i've recently been sighing for the shuffle at the brick reminder of french defeat, to think it's only one train ride away. since i'm not huge on hollywood blockbusters and i haven't seen a single movie in the bourne series i can only picture jason bourne maneuvering through the kiosks and stands in the bourne ultimatum and the escalators that easily trigger acrophobia, as if the ads for every west end musicals can soothe the fear of dizzying heights.


covent garden, one of my favorite london sites, the splendid setting that gave my fair lady a magical feel, had me visiting old broadway clips of the famed musical with julie andrews as eliza. even in those days hollywood was too political with too much lobbying of parts. i would have preferred julie andrews for the film version of the role she originated on stage. but audrey hepburn was the box office star and she got the part, although her singing voice was dubbed by marni nixon. but audrey sang well, the ethereal waif acquitted herself in the just you wait number. maybe if andrews took on eliza on film, what would have become of mary poppins?

april is only a few days away and it's colder than i can remember. in the rut from all the sadness the past twelve months, it slipped my mind to update my winter outfits, so i had the same look throughout the season. i need more closet space or a bigger house, which is only possible for the rich and privilege. i spend too much time hibernating and not enough time rejuvenating my wardrobe. i'll restructure my planner again to accommodate a newly-discovered fashion bug.

facebook has been deleted from our work pc suite as it has become a staple of brit-life. tried cracking the movie quizzes in the aforementioned social networking site and i was limping with my results. i know spartacus was directed by stanley kubrick then what pushed me to click on cecile b. demille? or danny devito is married to rhea perlman and i ticked the wrong box. i could be forgiven for not being familiar with the filmography of aston kutcher or will smith's rap career and golden globe nominations but stumbling on a friends question? confounding.

chaotic routines

despite the length of tenure at work, the vibes in the backdraft of pink and yellow color scheme would forever be pigeonholed as a constant fear of the unknown. dealing with the sepulchral aspect of life is not at all pleasing and cheery. one may bump a variety of folks --- from a gooner season ticket holder to the sound engineer for radiohead to a charles dickens connoisseur or a soft-spoken vagabond. nevertheless the biochemistry is never pretty. we uplift our spirits through small talks during tea time, put forth our opinions in breakfast clubs, play the third wheel in a clique in order to survive lethal back stabbings.

bereft of pop culture references during the rest hour, gossip perks up all the dreary edges. why not, we're all unapologetic mockers, hoping the sharp tongues wouldn't backfire. but it's better with less judgments, creating an open mind and a little bit of kindness goes a long way.

sportsmen nonpareil

in january, uk's freesport mag compiled a list of the top hundred sporting icons as voted by the readers. i will list only the top ten as some of the 90 other names may sound obscure to the likes of us who were born and bred in the far east 10. diego maradona 9. michael johnson 8. michael schumacher 7. sir donald bradman 6. roger federer 5. lance armstrong 4. michael jordan 3. tiger woods 2. pele 1. muhammad ali.

sir donald bradman is also unknown to me and will forever be unfamiliar. cricket is for its most ardent practitoners --- the powers that be of who enjoys its intricacies -- england, south africa, australia, sri lanka, india, pakistan, west indies, etc, --- is the dearest sport of all. but it's not a passion in my part of the world. it was not studied and synthesized in my physical education classes while we had to pass the practical exams in bowling and pingpong in the early years of university. cricket was not even covered in newspapers. then cable came along twenty years ago -- cnn and bbc sports shows covered cricket. i learned a few names; brian lara, nasser hussein, the waugh brothers, shane warne. that was about all. i know a little bit about the mechanics. who knows if i'll ever be well-versed.

then there's tiger woods and pete sampras. tiger woods latest victory in the arnold palmer invitationals signifies his scintillating form. that said, with federer at six and appearing in gilette adverts with woods and thierry henry, i still cling to the sampras restrospection. the palos verdes native was voted twenty-one places behind federer at 27 and lost to the swiss machine in the much-trumpeted event at MSG last week. i've never actually embraced the flashy rock star type like agassi, so sampras was it. but i'm not a fan of trophy wives either. yes, i'm still talking about sampras and woods. kind of weird, as woods considers federer his BFF.


this week is the world figure skating championships in gothenburg, sweden. would it be the japanese in the women's, the chinese in the pairs, the europeans somewhere in between?

la lohan

she was an ingenue in the parent trap. ten years later, she appears more than screwed-up. in and out of rehab, a flippant hedonist eschewed by sponsors. an out of work actor? there is always a limit to excess. but she's still young. a lot can still happen. she just needs to recharge her batteries, pull herself together and recover from being a perennial inclusion on the list of celebrities gone bad.

we'll always have pearl jam

my dearest one and i don't exactly like the same bands or in some aspects, the same music. but my playlist is practically bare compared to the hubby's massive stockpile. my metallica kid doesn't like three in my list. three is only a number anyway. besides he would accompany me to a REM gig when prodded. he likes the seattle boys --- soundgarden, nirvana, pearl jam. he introduced me to muse. you ask him if he likes jimi hendrix, he would supply you a gist of the latest fuzz the guitarist's progenies were making. his riveting riffs pushes my amateurish music grasp clearly in the closet. i'm still learning, not all that natural, and not having all that time in the twenty-four hours when all i want to do is sleep. would killswitch engage be an easy study in the end?

as of this writing, foo fighter's gig at wembley is still sold out.
but hope's lurking for radiohead.

blog editing task force

i was tidying up all my blog entries yesterday -- cropping up sentences, utilizing my dictionary and thesaurus with utter abandon to touch up a few cramped and redundant words i've been exploiting the last two years. i'm not sure when i'll ever be done. there are so many sentences and paragraphs that howl for changes and never flop to launch cringe-inducing moments. i've also been whining a lot. i've been grumpy since singapore. it's mostly about the constant stream of confounding behaviors (a blog title). being prostrated then ranting and screaming about all the abrasiveness in my blog is a caustic eyesore.

nevertheless the daily brush with the dark side is not all la dolce vita. my blog antagonists are not keen readers, thus they're being bequeathed the role of adversaries in the complaints section in these pages. the diaspora is not circumscribed to the club of bloggers, poets, storytellers, film buffs, wide readers, sports enthusiasts, postmodernists, cyberjunkies, rock band devotees, tv aficionados, electronic music nuts, rap music hip-hoppers, jazz geeks, classically-trained tellurians, straight-play theatre-goers, techie buffoons, it's an endless list. to paraphrase stephen fry in his dork talk column, not everyone is an all-rounder who can rival michelangelo. but most of them are aspiring chefs, party planners, jet-setters, keen shoppers, choir members, traditionalists. it's not prim and proper to judge others by my own limitations, as to mangle the words of director joey reyes. though if i have to embrace the art of the serial optimist, it would irrefutably make me even more galling to my eyes and that would be a more strenuous existence.

it took me forever to realize that my highly-amiable and erudite classmates from the free school system of my bacolod hometown do not hover much in such idiosyncratic gossipy toilings. i'm still astonished with my naivete. i was spoiled by the unfluctuating grind to broaden my turf as a youngster. probing farther and further, the etiology of the perturbed comportments stems from deprivation. a few tossers in my midst are in dire longing for refrain and modesty.