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Monday, August 30, 2004
a baffling thing
I was buying a new pack of ponytails yesterday, because my Goody set of 80 ouchless ponytails have run out. And I came to recall that my officemates and I talked about this sometime back, that no matter how careful you are, ponytails will always get lost. I tried to discipline myself about this - because the ones that could hold my hair up well don't come cheap.
I tried buying them expensive Goody ones, the really thick ones, so I had the mind to be more careful (knowing that it cost me almost 300 bucks for a set of 12). But then they one by one got lost, at a slower rate, but still they got lost. Now I'm back to buying cheap ones, that come in utterly vibrant colors so I can easily spot them. And yet they went awol. I'd have to admit that sometimes I break them, but that probably just accounts for around 10% of the losses. The rest, well, I don't know. So where have all the ponytails gone? I'm sure all of the girls can relate. Is there a big underground haven of lost ponytails? Because no matter how much you comb through your house (beneath the bed, corners of couches, in jean pockets, or bags), these things just can't be found. Does the earth just swallow them up? Do they die and go to heaven? It's one of life's mysteries. The Discovery Channel should do a special on it. Thursday, August 26, 2004
the death of chivalry
This post is kind of late in the game - this happened Wednesday, but I didn't think much of it at the time. But last night, as I recounted the events, I thought that it deserved online presence.
I was on my way to some consumer research. Client was there and I was bringing along my producer and copywriter (both guys, as in hindi bading) for a squeezed-in PPM. I had a laptop, 3 VHS tapes, 3 file folders and my handbag. When we were hailing a cab, none of them offered to help. Furthermore, they didn't hail the cab. I did. Thought balloon: What the fuck? Hello?!? Lady who needs your help here? Leche. Mga walang kwenta. Copywriter sits on the driver's side. Producer sits with me at the back. When we get to our destination, I pay the fare. I hear slamming of doors. Poh-tangina. None of these guys opened the door for me. For perspective, it was drizzling. I ranted out loud and the cab driver laughed and shook his head. Up until we climbed to the floor where I was meeting client (the third fucking floor), none of these guys offered any of their beefed-up arms for any of the things I was carrying. Thought balloon part 2: Packingshet. Ano ba?!? Are they really like this? Did their mothers even teach them how it is to be a gentleman? Or do they just hate me? The only reason for which is that I am an AE (their AE to be exact). So guys, be honest. H'wag na kayo magpanggap. If you hate a person (for some reason or another - ket mababaw or may natatanim na malalim na poot), would you ignore the code of chivalry purposely? Could you restrain that supposedly inherent mark of a gentleman (assuming you are bred that way), if the person you were to exhibit that gentlemanliness to was a lady you despised? I am at a loss. I throw my hands up to such men, who I think I shall not call men. Not even boys. Maggots. Wednesday, August 25, 2004
ironically uninterested
Both my parents texted me this afternoon that my phone has arrived (hooray!). I donned on this huge smile, wishing and hoping that the office would declare a "you can go home now" announcement given the evil weather brewing outside so I can fiddle with it.
But then again, meetings continued and issues arose. The conflicts, "sabits" and stresses of client servicing came rushing in, just like floodwaters surely gushed through the streets of Manila. An offline has not yet been approved, and we have the online scheduled tomorrow at 9am. A freakin' 15-seconder radio announcement is being nit-picked to the bone like a hyena sucking a corpse dry. There were moments that I felt that I was back in school (particularly in Claire Lopez' Creative Strategy class), when I debrief my boss about what whoever said and what I said in defense... and she'd give her gut reaction and I'd think... damn, why didn't I think of that. Well, maybe that's because she's my boss. But still. It leaves me thinking - Am I good at my job? Like, really? I enjoy it (well, most of the time), but am I good at it? I am not out to feed my ego here, this is just one thing I think about knowing that there is my life to support and a (corporate) ladder to climb. There again, my friends, is another burning question. Something that will probably remain unanswered until the day I die - because for some reason if people tell me that I am, I will not believe them. And neither will I believe myself, because the question above shows precisely that I am an overthinking paranoid (redundant, much?). And so the hype on the phone was overcome by pointless anxiety (as it now lies on the couch, charging and somewhat fiddled). Oh how easy humans are swayed. Monday, August 23, 2004
three little indians
saturday. Was all alone, by my lonesome self, at the gym for the afternoon. After, I went over to school (ah este, former school), UA&P, to watch "Ten Little Indians", a play based on Agatha Christie's novel of the same name. It was then that I was hit by an empty, missing feeling. I met up with my thespian friends, and we recounted memories of building and striking down sets, of scoring and blocking in that way-beyond-polar-temperatures of a room. And I was overcome with envy because they can still do theater while holding 9-5 jobs. Sigh.
It was me, my sister, and apester - the witness to our somewhat cult-ish sisterhood. The play was a blast. Literally. Aatakihin ako sa puso... ako na yung 11th little indian. What would you expect from an Agatha Christie? With the gunshots and off-stage screaming and all. The characters were well-played, each actor bringing distinctiveness to their roles (minsan nawawala yung english accent, but well... ok lang). Kudos to Tinette for the direction - there was great chemistry and interaction between the roles and the stage, each corner and each prop utilized. The adlibs ruled. The three of us now equipped by a handful of private jokes. I'll post the 10 Little Indians poem here later, because I forgot where I placed the programme... sunday. Went to church with Chips then went to Shang. I got this cool mod-inspired vintage bag from ukay-ukay for a hundred bucks. It just had this long leather sling... that just made it way too vintage (as in outdated) for my taste. I decided to turn it into a shoulder bag. I didn't want to risk it with Mr. Quickie... so I went to Besa's (a better leather repairs shop). The price I had to pay for trust - now the bag costs 3 times more than it did when I bought it. Sus. I still want my new free phone. As in now. Lecheng Globe. Thursday, August 19, 2004
i want it. i want it now.
I want my new free phone. Now.
Okay, so I know that the letter said to allow minimum four weeks delivery. Four weeks didn't seem that far... at first. But a whole day feeling like a whole week at work doesn't help. I've been surfing the net for reviews, watching those wonderfully enchanting flash presentations. I'm prepping myself for toiling through the new interface and whatever may happen as I teach myself how to text/call while driving while putting on my make-up. I'm killing myself with anxiety on whether or not those blasted Globe people got the fax and are processing the request and why the hell didn't they send a confirmation receipt. I never really wanted a new phone, I was perfectly sublimely happy with my current one (a Nokia 6100). But now I'm imagining myself going insane with the camera... hey now I can take pictures of competitive outdoor and in-store advertising (AE in my talking)! A free, winner of a phone. Who can not resist and become impatient?!? Huh? Huh? I'm posting a picture. Maybe because I'm a masochist. A fan of self-induced, suicidal anxiety.
Monday, August 16, 2004
a burned-out moment
I've got concepts to do and a billings forecast to finish. My brain is shutting down. It doesn't want to budge. I try to punch in some numbers to make sense out of my brand's month by month spending... but nothing is happening. The calculator is staring back at me with a set of digits that begin to mean nothing to me. And because of my brain's lack of coherence, this post will just be a stalling post. No congruity whatsoever.
I want more Shawarma with Cheese. I got my taste last Friday, and I'm still craving. There's something about the beef. And the dressing. And the fact that it takes skill not to mess up while eating it (except for the little dribble of sauce on the corner of your mouth). I really love the Oceania CD. I highly recommend it, especially to those who enjoy the likes of Delirium and Enya. The words, though not in english, seem to move me. Maybe this is what they mean by music being a universal language. I love my mom! Yesterday, we went to ukay-ukay. It's so much fun. Me and my sister and my mom... just like a trio of girlfriends out for some fun. I love her even if it took a while for her to get that I'm a morena, not a mestiza (or as pale as her). I love her coz she's my fashion critic, my ka-chika, my source for make-up and advice. She's the sweetest thing. She brings Chips longganisa every time she comes home from Ilocos. I painted my toenails pink. They look so happy. They're kinda fuschia-ish. It was a spur of the moment. I was possessed by some pink-happy psycho. Bravo to our Sisterhood. My sister and I are opposites: she likes performing, I love being backstage. But we both like buko-pandan, ukay-ukay, and shoes. Makulit sya, ako hindi (masyado). We both are crazy about the Oceania CD. We have endless differences balanced off by quirky similarities. Yah. Glad to be Sistahs. This is a picture of us heading home from Boracay. She's the one with the colors on her head. Currently my favorite picture of us. Sure looks like we got a lot of sun huh. I need to buy gym shorts. I want cheap ones. Something I can buy at SM or Landmark. Sana kung may oras lang. Maybe tomorrow, if I can just swiftly and invisibly head out to lunch at a far far away place... yeah right. I'm excited for my new free phone. My dad was entitled to a choice of free phones because of this loyalty thing from Globe. He gave me the honor of being the beneficiary. I chose the Sony-Ericsson k700i. Because it looked cool and techy, it's camera had 4x digital zoom, and because I didn't like the keypad of the Nokia 6230. I fear for the new interface I would need to adjust to, though. I wonder when the phone's gonna get delivered. The letter was faxed last week. How will I know if they got the fax? Should I refax it? Will they tell me if I need to fax it again? I think I should stop stalling now. Okay, back to work. Sunday, August 15, 2004
a month-sary again forgotten
The good thing about this time was that we both forgot about it. He just remembered it before I did. Haha. So what do you do to enjoy a day you didn't know marked three years and seven months of being together?
1. You go to Universal Records' CD sale. Where old CD's are just 100 bucks and singles are just at 20. Buy Jesus Christ Superstar, Sheryl Crow, Pulp, INXS and Oceania CD's. It's like the ukay-ukay for music lovers. 2. Go to the gym. And watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympics while trying to concentrate on your work out. Ang sakit ng katawan ko. Shet. 3. Go shopping. My self-proclaimed cool-down regimen. I was hunting for gym shorts and weight lifting gloves. Ack! Is this me? Is it? Who am I? Who are you? Aaaaaack! It was at this point that Chips, going up the escalator with me, asked for a peck on the cheek (I should have seen this coming, but no). He asked me, "what do you say?" And I was like, uuuhhh thank you? No. Ummm I love you? No. What then? Happy Anniv. And it was this point that my eyes widened with a matching gasp. He chuckled. He admitted he forgot it too. 4. Buy Pancit Palabok from Red Ribbon. Combined with home-cooked Adobo and buttered corn, aaaahhh the perfect dinner. And we didn't even have to re-heat anything. After dinner, lounge around watching the Discovery Channel. 5. Get Halo-Halo from Chowking before taking me home. It's truly the simple things that make a celebration special. How did Chips get to remember our Anniv? He was looking at all the SALE posters around the mall and thought to himself, ang daming sale! August 13, 14, 15. Fourteen... fourteen... anniv! I knew it. Sales are always good. Haha. Wednesday, August 11, 2004
cravings and intellectual compulsions
Because I am stressed, PMS-ing and really just a nerd at heart.
CRAVINGS: 1. shawarma with cheese from Food Channel 2. gravy. regardless if it's with KFC or Chicken McDo 3. bacon 4. ukay-ukay 5. and last but definitely not the least, shoes COMPULSIONS: I blame the Discovery Channel for this. They had a special on Nefertiti. While watching it, my brain (seemingly stuck in college) was recalling the Nefertiti portrayal in the movie The Mummy Returns and was simultaneously analyzing how consistent it was with her real life. I drew myself into the thick of this thesis. Imhotep was also in the movie. Imhotep had a lover, Anck-sun-amun. And we all know that Nefertiti had this beautiful fight sequence with Anck-sun-amun. In the movie, Nefertiti was the daughter of a Pharoah. I research, hunt for information, being the geek that I am. I find that Imhotep was actually an architect in the 3rd Dynasty. Nefertiti was Queen of the 18th Dynasty. Malabo ata silang mag-abot. Anck-sun-amun is in reality one of the six daughters of Nefertiti, later betrothed to her half brother, the would-be King Tut. So, parang hindi sila pwedeng mag-duel kung ganun. Also, Nefertiti did not have royal lineage. Half of me is satisfied with the conclusion of inconsistency. Half still wants to trudge through records and books about ancient Egyptian history. I shouldn't have skimmed through our Encyclopedia when I was in 5th grade. I mutter to myself, "Nerd." Sunday, August 08, 2004
procrastinating, again.
It was Chips' birthday last Friday, August 6. A week before that he told me that he wanted to go to the beach. I filed for leave. Then I got to thinking... what in the world would I give him? See, this is always the struggle every time there is a "day" to celebrate. An anniversary, a birthday, Christmas, etc. It's always so difficult to give a guy (especially a guy you've been giving all kinds of gifts to for almost 4 years) the perfect gift. I'm scared that at one point, I'm going to run out of creative ideas and just end up giving him ankle socks.
His birthday was looming. I plan to give him a cake. A cake from Sugarhouse that he has been constantly raving about, but never got to eat again. Okay. So there's an idea. But I was faced by primarily two problems: One, how and when do I buy the cake? So much is going on at work that we don't have time to eat out or go to the mall. By the time I get out of work, the mall is closed. Two, how do I get the cake to the beach? At that time I didn't even know what it was made of. Should I stick it in a cooler? Will it fit in the cooler? Will it not die in the cooler? ARG. Also, Chips told me that he was going to have a dinner thing at his house, after the beach, for the rest of his barkada. So... when do I bring the cake? Should I just bring the cake to his house for the dinner? If so, who will bring the cake? I'll be coming from the beach demmit! Wednesday. My big boss handed me a post-it which seemed like a message from God. Kulang nalang may glow tapos may hallelujah sa background. It had the number of Sugarhouse. They deliver. Yey! I could have them delivered to my house, I'd stick it in the cooler and we're off to the beach (if it could live that long). But then, the lifespan of the damn cake (as I found out from the Sugarhouse people) was just 1 hour unrefrigerated. Okay there goes the cooler idea. Fine, I'll have it delivered to their house for the dinner. That's fixed. After a while, I felt that I wasn't satisfied with just a cake. Aside from the fact that his boss (na may HD sa kanya) gave him two cakes. I don't know, it's probably the scorpion in me. So Thursday night after work, I went on a gift hunt. I knew that I wanted to give him something he could use or wear. Slippers or pants (or ankle socks if I'm desperate). Adidas was on sale. Great! Okay problem number three: what's his size again? I am so bad. So bad. I actually called him to ask. Bahala na si Batman. At least he's in suspense. I browse around. I went to SM. I ended up buying a bag... for myself! Haha! Shiyet. But I did find rubber slippers from Adidas. I got a size 10. It ended up to be too big for him. Good thing we were able to return it yesterday. And that was that. And he was really happy. Saturday, August 07, 2004
know your target market
It all started with apester's blog, when she wrote about Truth in Advertising. Suggest you read her post before proceeding...
So one time as I was on my way home, I just wanted to see it for myself. That "Gigolo presents RECTUM" banner. Chips was in on the story, he found it sureally hilarious and wanted to see it as well. So we drive by (my house is just around the area) and get a visual. We laugh. Then I realize that there's something written under it. A subtitle. In it's complete glory, it deserved another round of deep, uncontrolled laughter: RECTUM. Prisoners of Desire.Chips actually wanted to take a picture of it. So as he was going to pick me up yesterday morning (it was his birthday and we were going to the beach), he was ready with his digital camera. But lo and behold, the banner was gone. Replaced by a new banner with a title nonetheless of the same touch: Gigolo presents BAKAT.When we drove by that night (don't get me wrong about this, the place is on the way home, okay) and there were so many cars that some were double-parked on the street. They must really know how to satisfy their target market. Monday, August 02, 2004
going back to Quietus
I was going through my old rusty ring-bound notebook and came across a passage I wrote while sitting on the school ledge on a windy day. That passage gave birth to a short story I then named Quietus. Defined by my handy-dandy Bookman Dictionary, Quietus is 1. the removal from activity 2. death or 3. something that quiets. And that passage I shall share with you here, because I love it, like a mother who gives birth to a child. Because I hope you would love it as well.
It was so peaceful. So full of silent satisfaction that the noise is blocked out by those who do not speak. And they, they who use no words, understand each other, through conversations held by the eyes. There are peaks and crevices, unseen but felt through the motions of their breathing. It was to an extent that you could swear that you can see the pounding of the heart of the person before you, beside you, as they let the atmosphere seep into them. And later, it's as if the whole world exhales. It never became too quiet. Well, that's for someone who knows the spirited freedom of just remaining. To know the value of a calm, concentrated wait... a straight and steady gaze despite a verging disturbance. It is to know the pure joy or your true soul. And noise does not distract. It may, but lasts for only a moment. A learned moment, it becomes. Then it becomes quiet again. And you begin to appreciate yourself... again. It was so easy that you can feel the coolness of the waving breeze lace through your fingers. So serene that you can see the wind. It was so still that you'd actually see the blades of grass ripple when you made the slightest move. And when you look up, you'd mistake the sky for the sea. |
strapped in @ 
