with age, comes wisdom?

As such, the writers, of glossies with snippets I ear marked earlier and the opinions above are those of maybe, Gen Y. It shows by reading between the lines. Affirmations that the world is turning a new leaf and every commodity has an expiration date. Was it only yesterday I was waiting in vain for the Del Valle couple to discover the contents of Gardo's diary? Now, the original Mara is in her thirties and her market and demographic is growing older with her. Youth, it seems, equate power. Although when I was younger, I have to ask permission what movies, what shows to watch, not to mention being dependent on my parents for food, clothing and shelter. Of course, young slebs fans are not only concentrated on the youth market. But those in their twenties, with time to spare and fresh graduate money to burn can indulge in the shows and endorsements of their peer group, an age bracket I find utmost difficulty relating as I continue to reach old age with related body aches and milestones. But the genuine talent, who doesn't need the trappings of outside beauty to sparkle, will push aside trends and continue to rise through the heap of wannabes and maybes. In the long run, good looks fade, wrinkles appear and a younger version of an old star will dominate the entertainment scene.

Notes

Just for my reference.

hoover then laundry

Peppa Pig likes the word boring. "A vase is a boring present for grandma and grandpa Pig, " she says. While I often use the word to describe myself. Although it takes a lot of time and patience, it seems there's no room in my life to socialise. Hoovering awaits, the laundry is piling up, the photo books needs to be laid out with trims and baby hues.

But...

I get sidetracked. By activities I should do after I've done all the chores, such as tinkering on my mobile, looking at the crap that's on twitter, all the rubbish. It's mightily hard to iron while a toddler is all awake and has no fear to touch any thing she fancies, like a hot iron. So I wait till she goes to sleep. By then I'm super tired.

no twists, no turns

photo credit

 Huwag Ka Lang Mawawala has been over for more than a week and I'm wondering about an alternate ending. The shortest Judy Ann Santos soap ever left me gasping for a little bit more polish to the development of its lead characters. But television is a writer's medium. They control the reins and if they want to make an advocacy out of Eros and Anessa then we should have seen a far better presentation of women empowerment. To make it more convincing, it would have been prudent to shatter the chemistry between the two leads from the beginning rather than the wooing and cooing amid the photogenic backdrop of the asinan.

As it turned out, Eros became the villain du jour during the finale week, pushed towards the loony bin after the denouement at the rooftop. He reminded me of the Piolo Pascual character in Esperanza The Movie. I get his dad Romulos' ( Tirso Cruz III is so damn brilliant) inducement but Eros' kind of wavers with his emotions.  He loves, he beats up the mothers of his sons, he's a good father, he pounced Anessa's brother Leandros to smithereens.

As for Anessa, she stood her ground with her martial arts skills, maybe that's a good thing for the so-called advocacy  bad for that bit of romance. In another storyline, she could live happily ever after with her son's father. But for now, it's curtain call to 10 weeks of streams with plot by plot coverage on twitter and instagram uploads from some cast members that is only all too prescient for the ordinary viewer.

the long grass

reading rubbish up to this point, that's the existence. i won't really call them rubbish, they're quite useful, it's mostly about the Filipino soap, hklm, it's finishing tomorrow, so no more dashing with the chores when i'm about to go to work. twitter has been really helpful this time. there were a few trolls in the comments section of you tube and Facebook, bashing the lead stars. can't please every single individual on this earth.

like the blog, i don't update much on twitter, i don't have many followers. the ones with millions of twitter followers are celebrities. i'm no sleb. i don't even have a thousand friends who matter. the tiny circle is just fine.

facebook meanwhile is such an assistance for all types of friends and family. I'm not posting any thing on the FB wall either, not for a long while, it'll change soon though, bit by bit.

the very young, the ones born decades or much, much later than me are quite adept in incorporating social media into their lives. while i could just untangle my link to the web without tears. that's the beauty of not being able to afford a typewriter during those years of term papers and writing assignments. it was harder to go through life with the messy hard copies and broken finger nails but we survived.

these days, it's all too quick, i'm on my phone, blogging and about to check twitter.

too fast? rush to the finish

as a judy ann santos fan, I follow/consume her every project. my world stops when she has a soap (as the hubby pointed succinctly) that's only every three years since '07. in ysabella, i rooted for ysay to end up with albert amarillo, that didn't happen. in habang may buhay, we know who was her principal partner but jane losing her life to a rampaging diminutive doctor? the main character dying in the end was innovative but gladys reyes on a killing spree? it's still mind-boggling.

huwag ka lang mawawala, meanwhile, is fast-paced. by the third episode, anessa is married to eros. by the week's end, she's a battered wife. well and good. i can also ignore a few holes in the storyline (whatever become of aling demetria heart condition?, etc). it's mainly eros' motivation that is perplexing, his temper and violence is downright opposite of that guy who made a romantic proposal by stopping a bus. he has no balls to stand up to his father, so he's violent? I'm lost in the psychology of human behaviour. how could he point a gun to a woman who made him happy? i thought anessa and with his wealth as back up, is the love of his life? he vowed to make her pay for putting him in jail, but wasn't he guilty dealing with smuggled diamonds, which she witnessed?

in the highlight scenes, eros not trying to find his wife in the streams, in the kakahuyan with the baby in tow is quite odd. leaving anessa for dead, not knowing the fate of the mother of his child? he might as well pull the trigger. although the smacking, the gun-toting tactics leading to the river shots are also confusing.

for the women empowerment theme, anessa's emotions are consistent. she's tough but she also has fairy godmothers to help her recover from a gunshot wound, learn Krav Maga and get a degree. in real life, fairy godmothers don't usually exist. yes, women should flee from abusive marriages and sometimes, the stories we hear and read, are heartbreaking. if only we could eliminate all the rage that makes men monsters.

as for performances, it's a given that the senior stars are excellent. judy ann santos has the power to control her tears (a drop shines like a diamond) so she's beyond mesmerising (I'm biased). i'd rather watch KC in tweetums roles (you can always show depth without playing an antagonistic part). but she's ready for deeper, meatier portrayals. sam milby oozes appeal despite playing a character with no backbone.
how will the writers rehabilitate eros in the end? if at all. why not stretch this series into 12 weeks? because judy ann has to give way to the young stars of today? i very seldom watch performers below the age of 35. with the advancement in viewing habits, time is precious commodity and I'm just showing my age.

trajectory

whenever i come across Amalia Fuentes' name on an article, my mom instantly comes to mind. she was such a huge fan of the former movie queen that she kept scrapbooks. i spent hours staring at those artefacts as a youngster and i've never seen anyone more radiant than the Amalia in those pictures. those scrapbooks probably got lost in some shuffle and i'm still trying to figure out how exactly they vanished into oblivion. but as the images are kept in the recesses of memory, the positive and negative side of any Amalia news, are most welcome. because of the acerbic public persona, she's the antagonist to Susan Roces' protagonist. sweet is best? sweet is stale?

'twas fun!

I enjoyed the Oscars ceremony. The host was a brilliant choice. It's merely due to Family Guy as our default midnight viewing for years and years. I know some people find Seth offensive. But kernels of truth are, in other ways or forms, sting. Yes, we saw your boobs.

Hurray for a Daniel Day Lewis win! He has done well with a handful of movies and lives his life so out of the tabloids (in picturesque rural idyllic in my mind), it's so refreshing. Talent is not merely as deep as the lacking in melanin epidermis.

I might actually watch all of the nominated feature pictures, except for Silver Linings Playbook (might find it depressing) and I'll catch Les Mis in the West End (childcare and all), somehow.

please, energy!

i'm doing my ultimate best to update in these very hectic times. it's February, the month of waking up so very early to earn the keep, feed the baby and check the gamut of emotions, which I all did in the very busy January.

but television is out. i have two more episodes of The Hour, two for The Good Wife, a few more of Glee. do I still have to bother with Glee? or just glue myself and the baby to Disney Junior? unlike Nick Jr., there are no adverts for heavily priced toys. that's the life of a sleep deprived individual ( miss the 8-hour snoozefest). all work, no blog?

few precious minutes

alone for a while. baby girl is a joy. when she's not around, she's in the mind. during the lull (from the nitty- gritty) in the past months, i've been into domesticity which occupy the basal ganglia which should leave my pre-frontal cortex free to think and solve problems (hurray for the writers of the Big Bang Theory). i'm more philosophical now. i blog far less because the baby cries but i could dig more in-depth into the subconscious.

it's hard not to form into words the hidden ideas when it's feeding time or to dwell on chitchat in whatever time. the flesh is ever so weak when it's close to midnight or sunrise. we haven't finished tidying up after the move. i'm exhausted.

that's the way

it's annoying to wallow, to procrastinate. i could blame baby girl. but it's all me. i'm the one that's slow and all too sublunary.

it was illuminating to catch up with joy during her stopover at Heathrow, on a break from her Singapore-Baltimore flight at the beginning of the month. the last time i saw her was nine years ago. nothing's changed basically, we can still talk. i got lost in between terminals and with so little time. i should have read the fine print of her itinerary. the wi-fi sucks a bit but twitter works. hurray to twitter! probably if i cajoled her to write and write, she would resurrect her blog, she's such a good writer, she should be heard.

was able to organise a get-together with the high school friends last week. it was only for the very few, the very minimum. i've learned a lot about the deeper tenets of investments, knowing about holiday resorts in what was a hidden enclave of the home province. the only downside was that Westfield was closed for an hour to give way to the Kardashians. honestly. the old lady we asked, said Kim Basinger was coming. then an hour later we saw the posters of the sisters promoting their new line of clothes for Dorothy Perkins. the highest gravitas are given to lifestyle reality people. yes.

rain, shine, overcast

it has been mostly a rainy June. the summer solstice has come and gone. it has been ideal weather for a lot of people the past few days. i still couldn't function. i'm sleepy and tired most of the time. i sleep through the heat and reruns of frasier and everybody loves raymond. and i can only read and over think so much daily news, a few blogs, a few columns.

on the wifely duties, i need to iron the sweet hubby's uniforms and PJ Harvey isn't too bad at this point.

yet, abstract?

i wasn't able to write on my mom's birthday on the ninth. i did plan to invigorate some sense into this page, yet i couldn't, i was throwing up like that David Walliams character on Little Britain. i've been looking at posters and synopses of old movies and i thought of mom. she could have answered all my queries. i was thinking about family trees and she's not here to lend her expertise or provide an opinion regarding personalities or issues of the day.

but hence our luck, four siblings, me and the three younger brothers. we're orphans scraping by our own counsel. we're all old now though. we observed, we should have learned.

at the mo, i'm very weak. the headaches are debilitating. the round the clock vomiting is painful. mom never used to suffer with anything resembling my symptoms. my husband's care is soothing but it's just the two of us. yesterday, i was craving for answers, to questions brought about by early morning phone calls from the hospital. i spoke to a few friends and my brother. they lived such cozy life, i couldn't seem to impose. i was left still seeking, staring at the light bulb.

enjoying house now

it's way better without cuddy. the new team's dynamic is also a breath of fresh air.

half and half

once of these days i will try to interview kids who grew up outside of RP, not necessarily multi-racial, just raised outside the pearl of the orient seas who had to go through a multi-lingual, multi-cultural environment, knowing that their parents or one of their parents had a kind of different upbringing. 

darren criss is half-filipino.  i hear him sing tony's song something's coming on glee, i feel goosebumps.  west side story is one of my favorite movies.  that's how camp and gay i am, babe and i mean my babe. criss' version is even better than jimmy bryant's, the voice singer of the film.

aside from making his broadway debut,  replacing daniel radcliffe in how to succeed in business without really trying for a limited run. darren criss now models for uniqlo, the brand that keeps me warm.


and as a word and adjective, with its resonance and timbre, i like convivial.

cry, just cry

it came to pass that the hubby updated my phone for that ios crap or whatever.  i just didn't lose my music, i lost photos maybe from august this year that were not backed up.  i'm terribly rubbish in backing up stuff, i know that.  i don't own a proper laptop.  i'm such a phone person and i shouldn't be, i blog with the phone, i google with the phone. i just don't plug my phone to the pc to charge.

so with my emotions in tatters, the list hurts -- a video from ryan's wedding gone (wasn't able to upload it on you tube or save anywhere), photos of inanimate objects from ryan's wedding gone,  a gorgeous view of thessaloniki, greece gone, one of my favorite couple (hubby and i) photo together (amidst the backdrop of radiant thessaloniki weather) gone, photos from the weird indian summer during early october vanished into nothingness.  technology be damned? i don't want to be like carrie bradshaw during her sad Mac issues with Aidan. but how far technology has come since the fourth season of SATC the tv series?

and speaking of lost, the original copy of the photo above irrevocably disappeared as well. i just select photos randomly plus i read a lot about wallis simpson and sometimes the rest of the windsors.

the bubble

as a person who grew up in slightly above the poverty line, reading a stylist article about indulgence and consumption, jolted my perspectives into a tumble. so life is all about keeping up with the Kardashians and our Facebook friends? a reality show family as a metaphor? indeed, life is very much different amongst the middle classes in the western world.

as i read along the lines of acquiring material objects to make our lives better, i reflected during the times i've gone hungry as a child. but then i was never hungry as a nipper, my parents, despite their weaknesses in some areas of their traits provided for us, their kids, the basic food groups. what i lacked was a dollhouse and top of the line toys and barbie dolls but those were merely stuff, very superficial.

back to the present and the article; eating out three times a week, coating ourselves in designer, up-market brands, competing with Facebook friend JJ who just checked into Fortnum and Mason, pushing ourselves to counter-act, are hardly a necessity for in-depth fulfilment and happiness. of course, there are other areas of Facebook one-upmanship; career, the spouse, the number of children, the width, length, design of the house, travels, status updates. all bollocks.

two cents

it has been a week since the emmy's. no live coverage in this part of the globe as usual. the highlights shown on some far flung channel were devoid of genuine chuckles. not that Jane Lynch wasn't entertaining, she was good. definitely much much better than Ryan Seacrest. but the presenters and winners' speeches were a bit of a dud. except for Ty Burrell's best supporting actor winning speech for Modern Family. that was really funny.

it was a win for Jim Parsons for best actor in a comedy series for The Big Bang Theory. i love Sheldon Cooper character. geeks should inherit the earth and no else's. not even Michael Scott of The Office. i find dry humour dull. i peek at The US Office once in a while. for Steve Carell fans, he's a huge movie star. he doesn't need a tv award to validate his status in the industry.

Julianna Margulies, my favourite George Clooney's love interest and the only ER actor to have won an Emmy, nabbed best actress in a drama series. i may not like Alicia's choices. but i'm quite happy with this latest The Good Wife triumph. Archie Panjabi may have not won but Margo Martindale's recognition is definitely Justified.

hail sheldon

sheldon to priya:

"you may have gone to cambridge but i'm an honorary graduate of starfleet academy."

hope sheldon wins the nobel prize in physics.

discrepate

the 20-minute documentary on one of the esteros in manila entitled slums 101 shown on BBC news channel presents nothing shocking, to me of course, poor old third-world country girl me. yes, people in the esteros live in such stinking squalor, mr. economist. they just do. they wouldn't have to exist in such dire conditions if they would take a survey and see what keeps them from upgrading to live in a proper and legal tenement.

but  it's the luck of the draw. developing countries do not have the caches of the world's top economies. we don't have state welfare in the Philippines, if you will not work, you will go hungry. if you grew up in the slums, i don't know what does it take to uproot oneself from the area; find a job, work hard, carefully plan the number of progenies.

the suggestions to combat poverty, are merely, words. a hollow collection of letters that mean nothing to the powers that be, who only remember the masses during election years. it's still a new administration. there might be hope.