april adieu

I like Ugly Betty, it’s unconventional in the landscape of television. Audiences usually like their heroines to be drop dead gorgeous. But Betty Suarez is not your typical girl next door beauty. She’s the epitome of kindness and compassion. The fast-paced action in the fashion magazine world is gracefully executed. The script has been tweaked a bit. A few characters have come and gone. Betty has dated a few sweet-looking guys. Wilhelmina is still Wilhelmina.

Well, decisions are made in the board room.

bridal beauties

Bride Wars was on Premiere all of last week and sensing a dry and humdrum collection of movies on the telly, it became my vacuous film of choice to view again and again. Starring Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway as best friends from childhood Liv and Emma who became arch enemies because of a technicality in their wedding date and venue. Their soirees got booked on the same day at The Plaza. C’mon girls. There are many more beautiful places in New York to hold a wedding. Remember the gorgeous library in SATC or that picturesque wedding in 27 dresses? Narrated by Candice Bergen who plays Marianne St. Claire, the best wedding planner in Manhattan, it’s a fairy tale for the Hudson-Hathaway generation. Liv (Hudson) is a lawyer living with her hedge funder fiance while Emma (Hathaway) is a middle-school teacher engaged to a stuffy accountant. There’s no way of course for Emma to afford the exorbitant cost of hiring a pre-eminent wedding planner and a wedding and reception at The Plaza, even though she was penny-pinching for a decade. Unless she’s the heiress around town and her parents would foot the bill or her fiance is a scion of a millionaire family. Perceiving from the size of their apartment, not so likely. While Liv’s station is also not the idyllic, picture perfect mirage, at least hers is more or less believable, with that spacious digs and highly-paid job.

Both girls are not amenable to a double wedding. Their solution was to lock horns in a series of childish pranks that would test each other’s breaking point. But since this is a chick flick, romcom magical celluloid, all’s well at curtain call. It’s a photogenic movie with both brides projecting undeniable radiance while their grooms look pale in the background. I actually enjoyed the flick but knowing me and my saccharine choices, that’s no surprise.

brooding over salinger

Knew only of JD Salinger’s passing through scanning the Metro pages on the way to work. My heartbeat skipped a beat as I read the boxed details. Salinger, of course, is the author of my all-time favorites The Catcher in the Rye and Franny and Zooey. Catcher is high school fare but I only got to read the texts more than a decade ago. I bought my copy in Borders in Singapore. Introduced to me by Pete Sampras, it’s about the teenage Holden Caulfield and his sojourn in New York, his expulsion from his prep school and the nature of adolescent rebellion in the immediate post-war era of the late forties. As a boring conformist, I’m a far cry from being a rebel. But I am markedly muddled with adult angsts and have a tumultuous abhorrence of phonies so Catcher deeply captures the core of my anguish.

Franny and Zooey are two of the members of the venerable, highly-intelligent Glass family. Their thoughts, zen-like philosophies make me wish I could be as smart as them but that would be the ultimate impossibility. All I could do is read and try to absorb the knowledge imparted upon by Salinger via the Glass family. I’m stumbling upon hundreds of tributes of the reclusive author. In my obscure corner, across the pond, I’ll just re-read Franny and Zooey.

any mixture

I’ve taken about 36 hours sabbatical from the telly and the internet, the next time I tuned in, Federer’s commanding net gains are pulverizing Andy Murray to powdered pieces. Why? Because Martin del Potro lost. Because Nadal retired in the quarters. Because life is cruel.

The hibernation has given my eyes some rest. I surfed bits and stuff today, found my usual information havens lacking in pizzazz. I couldn’t grasp the empty readings. I’d probably just watch a few of Ryan’s singing videos, try to recover and play Recto’s rendition of Air Supply, tackle the mess in the house. It has been a tough week, an even nippier, more gruelling January.

thy suffer

My favourite line in the recently published article in ES magazine is the slebs portion of the the essay.

In Hollywood, no interview with Scarlett Johansson or Angelina Jolie can occur without the majority of space being dedicated to the hardships they endured on a charity trip across the dusty plains of starving Africa and of course, the realisations they made there and the spiritual growth that ensued. What they fail to include is that they flew on a private jet with a retinue of make up artists, stylists, personal trainers and journalists to chronicle their pilgrimage of pain. ---helen kirwan taylor--

I’m no stranger to experience suffering, poverty, hunger, hardships. Up until now, I see it everyday. I need not volunteer in the soup kitchen to gain enlightenment. Growing up with a central artesian well, sleeping inside a mosquito net made me appreciate the finer things in life like running water or window screens. Poverty was all around. But as one cliche puts it, charity begins at home. Just be kind and humble in our daily interactions. We don't need photographers for a good deed,

stench

I get it. Senators of the Republic are supposed to behave. Over the years, politics have evolved into a colossal popularity contests and less about public service. By public service, I don’t mean the photo-ops of celebrities kissing orphans at the orphanage or hobnobbing with the soldiers in Iraq. Not even the sign that says made possible by the office of congressman so and so. Mind you, senators this is the you tube generation, every frame is kept for posterity. Your grandchildren’s children would be able to view the moments of grandstanding.

But that quip from Senator Pimentel and reading this article, even my esteemed bedfellow managed a smile. Perhaps though the bigger question is how could politicians be public servants at the same time?

yells

Be oppressive! B-E- Oppressive!

I’m in a mood to cheer. The songs and yells competitions punctuates the school rivalries of my youth. High school was bleacher cheering and those hard-edged field demonstrations, grade school is now something I call just cheering for cheering’s sake --- all girls, no boys, tangerine to blue pompoms. In college, the standard was precised steps, gym dancing and calisthenics. It wasn't a requirement. Auditions were held and I couldn't be bothered to participate. I couldn’t dance, follow choreography, the likes. I booted myself out of the dance troupe in high school because I was weak in dancing as the moderator vehemently told me. Did it scar me for life? Not a chance.

I couldn’t sing either and Filipinos love, love karaoke. In elementary, our choir was NAMCYA national champion, performing at the CCP, giving my classmates who were in the choir out of reach grades. Yes, good grades are lavished upon, out of generosity, out of gratitude. I could have entered the try outs to join the choir or the glee club but I know I couldn’t sing. What was the point? I burst out in a song, once in a while. But karaoke is a definite no no.

But there are a lot of other school-based extra-curricular activities, I joined the girl scouts in high school so that I would get exemption from the CAT. Scouting is a very clique-based organization. Not being able to afford go to Manila in the summer before the Senior year means a downgraded rank. I didn’t particularly mind. The private school girls even went international even though they were too hoity-toity for camping. One thing I regret is not staying in touch with the people I met through the girl scouts. Although in adulthood, I also haven’t stayed in touch with the former co-workers. However, if you don’t buy each other’s crap, there’s no basis in being text mates.

spice

Never been this exhausted. It’s not that I have a full timetable today. I couldn’t face the computer as it heavily strains my eyes. I couldn’t start my workout as the mess was bothering me again. I had to utilize siesta hours just to reboot. I was able to glance at the The Good Wife, the project that gave Julianna Margulies another SAG Award. It’s a feel good legal drama for women with balls. Can’t wait for the next episode.

I kept on going back to The Bride Wars, discovered Jane Austen Book Club and pressed the clothes for a series of hyperbolic affliction. The next lie-in seems ages away. It would take a few days before I can smile again. Gloomy London is getting into my skin.

two flicks

Drawn by the star power of Nicole Kidman, the acting excellence of Jennifer Jason Leigh and the versatility of Jack Black, I gave Margot at the Wedding a go and became numbed and bored to tears. I was close to snoozing in every frame and should have given up on this movie in the first half hour but I was buoyed by curiosity. Familial pathos are painful and unpleasant to watch. Sisters, siblings are rivals in a lot more ways than revealed on the surface. More so in this picture -- resentments, jealousies, fractured skeletons are plucked out from a tightly-locked cupboard. The dynamics between the family members are quite nasty. They would be nice to each other in one scene and hurl out toxic lines in the next. More vexatious than captivating.

Not so with Don’t Mess with the Zohan. A lot of factions may find the humor in this film distasteful. However I believe that this action-hairdressing comedy is utterly hilarious. There are a lot of gawkily executed computer generated stunts, gags that might irked some deeply conservative folks but it’s totally entertaining. Adam Sandler with the accent as a counter terrorist operative, John Turturro as his arch-enemy are terrific. These are very talented guys, considering that Mr. Turturro is equally adept in drama (he’s Kidman’s husband in Margot at the Wedding). The middle east conflict may be too serious a matter to be taken lightly by a bunch of stand-up comics and SNL veterans. But all the diplomatic peace efforts have been foiled by the inflamed outrage and ancient abomination on both sides. This is a farcical view of a strife that has gone too long. Imagine this clash of beliefs and religion in a drama genre and it would be thoroughly mundane.

school paper

if i relished being part of the high school paper, the college paper was the thrill. serving the same beat, writing and editing, mostly my own, as the paper only has a select team of student writers. those were the days when the byline provided the resolute high. the perks of that byline was great; camaraderie with the other editors, running after deadlines, interviewing jocks, making friends. that era before the internet, cellphone, digital television was bliss. reading was a great way to pass the time. my family couldn't afford a typewriter, writing was tedious, laborious. now i long to write in long hand.

synthesis

While others spent their weekend in seclusion, on vacation, at church, I was shaken to bits for the long wait for replacement buses and got grilled about physiological communication strategies by well-meaning elitist souls who didn't have the clue that my job does not allocate time for heartfelt lectures on disease processes. I would love to only talk and write boring clinical briefs like all those nine-to -fivers rather than be bottom of the food chain. But I can’t do that. I want to leave room for patters of tiny feet in the future schedule. I know the job is regarded lightly by the very top. They instantly presume you’re dumb, timid and a pushover with no management skills. Au contraire. The best people I’ve worked with are the non-presuming lot. Not because they are not overly ambitious or too full of themselves but because they are genuinely sincere in their dealings with people. It’s because it’s through them that I discovered the most cutting-edge of views and opinions. I don’t see them have the time to read the best books, but they converse with a lot of depth. While the others moan superficially and bounded by their loyalties to the clique.

It’s still a challenge to navigate in these waters of thoughts, words and equations. Very few friends collect tomes of fiction or non-fiction or ignore the cover choices of Hello or OK mags, or let idle gossips or socializations run their lives. Too few, in fact. However, I regard those who are nice to me in the higher level. Who wouldn’t want a generous soul for a pal?

visage

Got the chance to dig through my husband’s Hollywood dissertations recently hours after midnight. The casting couch is one sore point. The mister got opinions. He concurs that actresses that are not so pretty are the ones that can really act. To debunk his theory I suggested a few well-known actresses who are not too shabby in the looks department who have won awards. According to the loved one, Shiloh’s mom looked too weird plus she’s mental. I think weird for him is synonymous to not pretty. Not rough, just not pretty. Like all the other modern names I’ve mentioned; Sandra Bullock, Reese Witherspoon, Renee Zelwegger. Could they act? Not the way Frances McDormand, Sissy Spacek, Edie Falco can act. But definitely a notch higher than a regular pretty girl plucked out from the street. Child actresses who made the transitions are out of the list and are considered adequate to emote in front of the cameras. Hence ruling out Jodie Foster, Drew Barrymore, Katherine Heigl, Natalie Portman. Those who show off their knockers are likewise taken out of the equation; Kate Winslet, even Dame Helen Mirren. In some instances the gorgeous face get a makeover to play a part; Charlize Theron in that film where she won an Oscar; Nicole Kidman in The Hours. Notwithstanding, a person's good looks vanish after a few years. In advancing age, those with the authentic acting chops prevail. It’s almost impossible to find lead roles for women over forty. Harder still for the succeeding decades, unless it’s Driving Miss Daisy or The Golden Girls. But that’s mostly an aberration. The mass market decides. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder. But it surely rules, in the movie industry, in life.

pause, rewind, click

I promised myself I would watch the Golden Globe Awards telecast, live or recorded, it doesn’t matter. I screwed up my off duty so badly that I wasn’t able to view the show until Tuesday. By that time I knew most of the winners. I always peek at the news feed or movie endings anyway. As per usual forwarding the sky adverts and the boring portions helped expedite the process. I couldn’t decipher Meryl Streep’s speech. I’m disappointed Hugh Laurie did not win. But he has already won once before so I took it lightly. I did watch Michael C. Hall in Six Feet Under, so I don’t mind him winning for Dexter. I’m always a firm believer in Julianna Margulies, her win is well -deserved. Being congratulated by Clooney on the way to the stage was a nice sight. Doug and Carol forever. I know I sound like a deranged fan.

Ricky Gervais was great, not mincing with the flatteries. The deadpan sarcasms on plastic surgeries and genitals were hilarious. I can’t afford plastic surgery so I can still laugh at the jokes. Calling Jennifer Aniston, “Rachel of Friends,” should not be derogatory, she is Rachel of Friends, the sitcom is still shown on TV everyday. It was her main claim to fame, the basis of her appeal. I should have recorded this on HD. I want to see her micro-expression.

I couldn’t trace any scouser accent from Paul McCartney. But you can trace my Ilonggo accent every single time. To tell a McCartney joke in your face, with the Beatle in the room required a lot of balls. I live in a household where the Beatles are not the biggest band in history, where the jokes about Heather Mills are sharper than Gervais tongue.

In Mel Gibson's case, he could take a joke. He was caught with intoxicated, prejudicial messages on camera. That was a lesson. Never drink and drive, especially if you’re a celebrity. Or your innermost opinions are uploaded on You Tube. You’ll be valuable material for stand up comics. But have the courage to laugh at yourself. It’s a highly conservative universe. More so, if you’re an idiot, inebriated individual. I have my share of imbecilic drunkenness. I could still see the look of scorn and contempt on people's faces.

No comment on the Best Picture drama. But The Hangover resonates with the good and the pure. Sandra Bullock usually comes up with the frothy kind. Yes, even Miss Congeniality. This girl was in Demolition Man. But all thanks to Speed, she is a name above a title. I totally forgot to catch The Blind Side. But for your consideration, Gabby Sibide, Precious based on the novel Push by Sapphire.

eloquence

there are reasons to miss the pearl jam gig at hyde park in june. it might be my off-kilter moderate points of view with regards to sobriety. bad choice, i do reckon.

Not content playing good music, Pearl Jam are renowned for their legendary live performances. I was wholeheartedly enchanted by the raw power of the guitar riffs at the MEN Arena in Manchester. In their last album, Backspacer, the music reflects their maturity. It’s no longer replete with the cynicism of albums past but lament about hope and optimism for the present. The tracks contains two or more ballads amalgamated to the usual bursts of adrenaline. Just Breathe, soothes and cradles our deepest emotions. Amongst the Waves laments the inspirational crescendos of love and youth. While The Fixer is a traditionally upbeat index of bleeding heart tendencies. The intensity of the chords and drums are still ever present but the anger omnipresent in the past releases is slowly thawing, fading in the distant horizons.
But as always, it is gripping.

good souls

i don't have anything to whinge about in this time and age of £40 million savings and recession. but i'm utterly flabbergasted by the extra workload and people who are just taking the piss for not lending a hand with the cleaning and the heavy lifting. my job as a manual labourer is debilitating. it's under appreciated in the grand scheme of things. but i don't mind scrubbing the toilets just to ensure i have food on the table. probably it's all too much to ask for a little bit of physical support from the computer-staring charge folks.

but there are good souls out there at the workplace. they are absolutely adorable. they're not brown nosing curmudgeons. but all too generous with their time and strengths. they speak softly. well, they don't actually speak softly. but they're there when you need them. i salute thee, guys. if you happen to read this piece, i know you know who you are.

deliquesce

Despite checking the meterological state frequently, I still missed signing on for the big thaw. One day I was skating through the ice with my no-frills shoes, the next day I was fuming, wearing my inappropriately spiked footwear on a wet, defrosted pavement. That’s what I get hiding in a cocoon for one fine day, I get oblivious to the menagerie of the outside world. Last week I forgot to wear my snow shoes after work and I traversed icy conditions through the journey home, balancing at intersections, holding on to the pole, just to prevent myself from falling.

The temperature has currently settled down at above 40 degress in the Fahrenheit scale. The sidewalks are now cleared of the gray slush that congregates when the pure fluffly ice dissolves. It’s only January. I’m unaware of the February forecast as of this moment.

Spring is a long time coming.

lather with tears

Unlike the pinoy soap operas of my generation, particularly Fordeluna and Ana Liza that aired for years, soaps these days are broadcasted only for a few months, depending on the ratings game. Even with the texture of today’s teleseryes, this one took the mick, and it stars the one actress who revived the popularity of pinoy soap genre in the ‘90’s. Actually it was Mara Clara’s precursor Ana Luna starring Margarita Fuentes which first aired in ‘89 that was molded in the basic core of both Ana Liza and Flordeluna. Ana Luna was an afternoon fanfare for years from its debut in 1989 until 1995. But it was Mara Clara, which debuted in 1992 and replaced the recorded broadcast of the Barcelona Olympics in the afternoons, with its rigmarole shots of squalor and wealth that catapulted its stars into stardom . As a teary-eyed ingenue in Mara Clara, Judy Ann Santos won over the viewers affection. After the undeniable success of Sana Naman (1996), the erstwhile Mara began a reign of success in both films and television.

Perhaps the complexity of the subject profession or the daunting financial aspect of shooting and re-shooting in a US health care setting may have hindered the process. Or there could be other reasons why the directors and cast were changed or reshuffled. But two years is a long time to shoot a series which would only air for a few months. However nothwithstanding all the wait and alterations, at least the soap was not canned and would be finally shown first of February. Aside from cast and directors, the series’ titles, theme songs, story lines, scenes and trailers also evolved during the past two years. To the uninitiated, Habang May Buhay is the final cut.

glee and other musings

if you're the type of person who likes musicals, meaning one who is into the julie andrews kind of crap, then glee, the television series is for you. i'm too old for the high school musical franchise. but glee varies in temperament, it actually has an adult storyline. although the older characters are years younger than me, considering they were still in high school in '93, the profusion of bouncy production numbers and the cornucopia of talents in the cast makes glee a definite feel good show. unto one of the main adult plots, no, it's not prim and proper to have a crush on married men. it totally helped that the writers created one of the most unlikeable wife on tv, that the audience sympathy lies on the would-be other woman.

as for the kids, they're in high school, still figuring out their basic instincts by forming groups such as the celibacy club. high school is a caste system, very cliquey, in america, the jocks and the cheerleaders are on the top of the heap. in the philippines and this is based on experience, the student politicians, the CAT officers (evolved into CMT for later generations) of the senior year, the honor students (at least for me) are the cream of the crop. the fledgling romantic entanglements did not survive the college years. glee is miles ahead of the current (even the past) 90210 and deems me to block out the tearfest in this season's ugly betty, of matt going to africa. goodness, hopefully the writers would see the light of the day, that betty and daniel are not destined to be a couple.

simmer down

the unfortunate thing about working long hours is the less time spent sleeping and the more time allotted grinding to earn our keep. i need more than eight hours of snoozing to feel totally rested. i don't get that amount of sleep daily especially on a workday. i've been reading here and there after the shift rather than string words together. taking a breather from the computer every now and then is vital, to relax my eyes and get away from the perplexing headaches.

scrutinizing throng

My husband ever dependable, forwarded me this text joke :

Little Johnny’s teacher says -- whoever can answer the following questions can have a half day at school. Who said “…ask not what your country can do for you” -- before Johnny can open his mouth, Nancy shouts “John F. Kennedy.” Teacher says, “very good, Nancy, you can go.” Teacher asks “who said -- I have a dream” -- before Johnny can open his mouth, Mary shouts, “Martin Luther King.” Teacher says, “very good Mary, you can go.” Johnny is raging and just as teacher turns her back Johnny says “I wish those bitches would keep their f-----g mouths shut.” Teacher looks and says “who said that?” Johnny replies “Tiger Woods -- see you tomorrow.”

And I text back with : good joke. those skanks should shut their mouths! wannabe reality stars.

Husband says : you are really taking this to heart aint you?

I replied : i'm deprived of seeing tiger play golf because ........

I have to cut the sentence short. I was utilizing back to back foul languages as one could decipher. I think the Vanity Fair article is a little mean. To reiterate the text, I just want to see Tiger play golf. The clipping below is from my box of scrolls.

gather and mingle

i'm writing slow today as i got engulfed into the wonderful world of you tube, immersing myself in a poetic wedding video and a few past episodes of a charming sitcom. for a while, i forgot i have to venture outside my realm and explore the icy surroundings and look for presents for the birthday girls.

as i was invited to a soiree a while ago, my foremost musings are veered towards convivial bearings. navigating at parties has never been my paramount bliss. it's demoralizing being trapped in a place full of strangers and knowing only the hosts or not even the hosts and you're merely a hanger-on or a date. let's see, the hosts have their other friends and close associates while you're from one network of friends or colleagues and you get there and you find out that you're the only one from your branch of the tree, and it descends into full discomfiture on your part. it's better to find solace in a buffer at this stage. the situation of feeling like a total stranger in roomful of people is strenuous. i know, at some sphere in our lives, there's a time we have to widen our social dimension and meet new people. who knows, they may enhance our redeeming features or they may turn out to be galling and obnoxious and you're cursing fate for having been caught in a complicated plight.

football chill

the ice has not yet melted outside my window. i have such extreme difficulties in navigating the pavements. the big freeze has affected the premier league. spurs against liverpool is postponed, as well as fulham's fixture against portsmouth is also disrupted due to icy pavements conditions along the pavements on the way to craven cottage. i was at craven cottage on boxing day to watch spurs against fulham. the match's result was a nil-nil draw. aside from basking in the riotous, rowdy atmosphere, the idyllic views in the walk leading to the ground was splendid. the tableau at bishop's park, was ingenuously dazzling, while pottering along putney bridge is resplendent even in winter time.

today in january

it's my mom's birthday today.

a day for serene contemplation.

i'm one week old in the photo.

as last year's tribute illustrated,
she is dearly missed.

strew

Words like files, read, trek; phrases such as on the hoof, were frequently used inflections in my blog titles. I was watermarking the pictures in these pages when those terms kept on appearing in every click. It has been years of inconspicuous repetitions, not only in the titles but in the topics, hardly the treasure trove of scintillating of views and observations. Obsessing over weight and litter, there is still no system in place for a diet of fresh fruits and vegetables, for proper fitness regimen, for the accumulation of paper trails and reading matters. The paper valuables outnumber the paper trash. I'll figure it out later. I’ll have a kip first.

piercing ice

The cold snap made me oversleep today. That’s my lame excuse. I practically consume a weird sense of self-hatred whenever I oversleep. Imagine the chores I could have done during the time I spent sleeping . But we are not perfect in every situation. My feet specifically are not used to the rigors of snow flakes and blizzards. I should have taken a cue from Rian. Go to the sales, buy the appropriate protection . But naah, I risk looking like a twat in the freezing conditions. The pavements are going to be slippery for the next month or two. Except for the hazards of falls and the likes, it’s like any other day with the number of cars on the road and the biting workload for polka dots sake. It’s only the buses that are running later than ever, all others are in smooth order.

However, I enjoy looking at the view of Hampstead Heath. I like poring over the snow pictures. The romantic ambiance never fail to stir one’s dormant emotions. The trees are enveloped in white spectre , capturing a luminous essence. But once all the ice melt, despite the muddy aftermath, the general feeling should be well and good.

graceful swan

Watching Audrey Hepburn on screen is heartwarming. I’ve seen three of her movies Sabrina, My Fair Lady and Roman Holiday (left). There were glimpses of Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1960). But I’m not really attached to Holly Golightly. The few scenes I saw in Wait Until Dark (1967) did not register properly in my radar.

I’m not a huge fan. But her movies are quite light and delightful. She wore amazing clothes, looked radiant in a long gown thus becoming the iconic figure of style and fashion. Her gamine features contributed to her slender frame. Even when she was older working for Unicef, she exuded quiet dignity. I like her performance in My Fair Lady (1964). Sabrina (1954) is pleasing with two legendary leading men in Bogart and William Holden. Roman Holiday (1954) is a bit of a bummer to be honest . Although it shows the trend and spirit of the times, when royalty was considered a sacred duty for crown and country, the events happened in the span of not more than 48 hours and the ending made me quench for a sequel. It would have been cool if a sequel was ever made, the image of Gregory Peck as Joe Bradley staring wistfully at the conference stage is stirring. Peck was of course, Atticus Finch, the lead character in the film version of my favorite book, To Kill a Mockingbird.

the flimsy frame

I spent my entire morning reading my eyes out on nonsensical issues regarding last night’s telly. Casually, after my usual fanfare with Friends, I tried to catch with the 90210 drift due to the fact that Tristan Wilds who starred as Michael Lee of The Wire is now Dixon Wilson of 90210. It left me perplexed as usual with the western way of living. So I’ve been existing in a cave my whole life? The teenage characters are still in their teens but has gone through drama that ordinary people would not even experience in a lifetime; rehab, teenage pregnancy, adoption, hit and run, infidelity, sext scandal, drug addiction, drug dealing, promiscuity, bipolar disorder, anger management, etc. And they’re still in high school. They should be engrossed with their grades and a few extra-curricular activities that would mold their talents and skills. But they’re rather keen on focusing their undivided attention with their puerile relationships. The young ladies of the show are also very thin in the same vein as Helen Gamble and Ally McBeal but those were token thin characters in their legal dramas.

Fine, I’m just an uptight bitch who grew up in a third world country where adolescent appurtenances are only distributed to the chosen few, that if you would not study you would surely not make a dent in society. I’m also mindful of the knowledge that television exaggerates plots and storylines and this is a soap, often unrealistic and only showcases the contoured faces and decolletage of the rich and privileged.

semblance

My mind is totally bereft of musings, crippled from a full day’s of hard labour. With 20 percent increases in bus and tube fares and the soaring prices due to VAT and the effects of recession, work will keep us sane. The frosty temperatures will only dominate in the next month or two then we will all move on to the full bloom of spring and the coats of style and chic. JZ is right, nobody cares about our little problems, except perhaps ourselves, even our pets or our next of kin want to escape to the bondocks every time we exfoliate and display our fiery colors. To conquer fears and crises of confidence, go watch a movie or window shop or read all the bollocks about Tiger Woods. If one is not interested in a sports star headlining a game only a few can afford, start a hobby, I heard that knitting is truly cathartic. Listen to your kind of music. Who cares what other people say? Run away from the bad vibes, that include individuals who could get poisonous for no reason.

Let bygones be bygones.

quality of flavor

There are stuff to miss about home. The authentic lechon, that is really bad for health. Laswa and the KBL dish that are so full of life. I could scour London for balunggay (notice I used the Ilonggo term) or balatong (another Ilonggo term). Waking at the wee hours of the morning to shop at the market, pick up live chicken and suman latik at the stalls were moments to cherish. The classy bingka or bibingka in Tagalog is now designed to be savoured by the sophisticated palate according to Echoes. Suman Latik or the other mouth-watering, saccharine Inday-inday should be in the same elegant category at least. But both are just too messy to eat. No Reservations' episode about Philippine food made me hungry and yes, it’s true, as a people, in cultural and culinary terms, we’re at best, regionalistic.

senescent

Oh dear, how fast time travels, it’s already the third of the January. It means I’m beginning to wane and dither on inspiration that is why I’m writing crap like this piece. All the others are doing their bits of New Year’s resolutions. For my part, I would have to consume less carbo in my diet plus all those rubbish I was rambling about last month. I don’t do a lot of resolutions. I chance upon the blogs of twenty-something damsels and long for the carefree and vibrancy of youth. But getting older is part of the process. I really hate it when people ask me about my age. It’s not like I’m going to lie or what. I don’t ask people about their age. It’s on friendster or for the older generations, the information is readily volunteered. In my very wide circle, most people look younger than their chronological age. But there are only a few tactful and discerning individuals in the planet. I would be more than glad to collide with their brand of good manners

spur

i was watermarking photos in the blog when i realized dusk has already levitated over my day. amalgamated with the arctic freeze, it was too unfeasible for my tropical skin to venture outside the comfort zone. i reached the blog's august 2008 repositories when my eyes gave up and the kitchen was screaming for attention. the amount of computer work involved just to breeze through the cyclic motions is staggering to the senses. but for updates and news and stuff, there's the internet. there are the blogs, comments, e-mails from friends and families. there are far and few moments i could exist by not googling judy ann santos or checking the hard news, the cotton candies, the marshmallow sundaes. i could even manage not watching the telly on a listless afternoon. i'll sit back now, draw the bath and be the listmeister or i'll never accomplish anything.