Status: Hopeful
Music: 4 in the Morning – Gwen Stefani

I am not a fan of film festivals and competitions. Er… well… I am. But only up to the spectator level. I’m not really into joining them. Unlike my friend Tonet, who joins every contest imaginable (and won some), I am not the type who really watches out for film festivals.

Yes, I have joined some. Our class project “Comfort Zone” has been to a number of competitions, too. But it wasn’t really my decision. My groupmates took care of the application, requirements and everything. “Sangang Daan” has never exited my room to participate in any contest, primarily because my thesis partner Jerwin and I are too busy and too lazy to actually move a muscle. “Bad Trip,” the documentary I filmed with Nep, made it to ABC5’s TV show “Dokyu” because it was Nep who practically did everything. I didn’t have the drive. I didn’t have the motivation. I didn’t have the passion. And I was just too lazy.

The truth is, long before I graduated from UP, I had already given up Film as a career. So then, I could not see the point of joining competitions and winning any. Back then, I knew I wanted to become a diplomat. I tried looking for Film-related jobs not because I was planning to pursue a career in it, but because I need fillers. I need something to do while waiting for the Foreign Service exam.

But if there’s one thing I could not give up about Film, that’s screenwriting. I’ve always enjoyed writing and I always will.

Last year, Tonet dragged me with her to ABS-CBN for a pitch for CinemaOne Originals. She initially wanted Leo to join her but realising Leo was too busy to be her chaperone, she chose me instead. I never really liked being the second choice but that was Tonet. I could not let her down. She’s a great friend.

CinemaOne Originals had a theme: modern Filipino family. Tonet already had a concept. Although I did not really love her storyline, I helped her in developing it. Though it was Tonet’s project alone (I was just a sabit), I felt proud that Tonet made it to the semi-finals – or finals – the part where you get to pitch. Our pitch was terrible. There were too many flaws in the story. Right there and then, I felt sad. We would not make it. And unfortunately, we were right.

When the winners were announced for that season last year, I was aghast. There were too many big names — film directors, advertising people, and one of our professors back in college. All I could say was, “Oh-key.” But disappointment eventually turned into anger upon realising that their concepts were not really about modern Filipino families — fake identities, boobies falling in love in Rome, metlogs? I mean, come on. So much for having a theme.

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Status: Delighted
Music: Last Night - Diddy feat Keyshia Cole

He is the heir apparent to the Danish throne. He is the son of Queen Margrethe II and Prince Consort Henrik. He is (His Royal Highness) The Crown Prince Frederik Andre Henrik Chistian, the next king of Denmark. And he is the hottest prince alive. As far as I’m concerned. Haha.

Yep, for me, Crown Prince Frederik is hot. (I actually find him more attractive than Prince Harry and Prince William of Wales, though he’s way older.) Prince Frederik was born on May 26, 1968. Hmm. That makes him 39 years old. If he becomes king, he will be known as King Frederik X of Denmark.

I’m not really a fan of European royalties (or any royalty for that matter) but there’s something about this prince that is fascinating. I just can’t figure out what it is really. Whatever it is, he’s fascinating and I love him. Haha. He was educated privately, but he also studied at Harvard University for a period of time. He married an Australian commoner, Mary Elizabeth Donaldson, in 2004. I actually admired the Prince even more when she chose to tie knots with a commoner whom he met while attending the 2000 Sydney Olympics. I can still remember how glued my eyes were on the TV screen watching CNN’s coverage of their wedding in Copenhagen, live. I just loved (and still love) seeing him and hearing news about him and his wife and children. I love the couple. They look good together. And it’s one beautiful family.

Soon, I will post here on this blog the top 10 men that I want to meet before I die. Don’t be surprised if you see Prince Frederik’s name on the upper half of the list.

Oh, did I mention? It’s his birthday today. Happy Birthday, Prince Frederik of Denmark!

*pictures courtesy of norse.ry, mostbeautifulman.com, and theage.com

Jordin Sparks
Wins American Idol 2007!!! Yehey!

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Note: Blogger’s original work. Don’t plagiarise. To those who would dare, as Ayn said it, may the wrath of heaven and earth fall upon you. This is fiction. Please see legal and ethical reminders on the sidebar. Thanks very much.

It’s been a bad day. After wasting hours at a cafe drinking practically every cup of coffee that place had to offer, here I am now. Alone. And waiting for the bus. I’ve been to different places in Europe but this is my first time in Bulgaria. And it turns out to be the most frustrating day I ever lived since I stayed in Europe. Four hours at a cafe. And almost an hour here at this bus stop. I just want to go home. And just when it seems like it can’t get any worse, it starts to rain. I can’t believe it. The forecast said it would be sunny the whole day. I’m pissed. This is really a terrible day.

When suddenly a man in his late 20s, runs towards the bus stop I am at. He’s all wet. Probably walking when it started to pour. And I’m just glad he found shelter under this shed. And I just can’t believe I’m sharing this shelter with him. This man is ruggedly beautiful. Seems to have been very lazy to shave off his facial hair for five days now, he still looks so handsome, I just can’t take my eyes off of him.

Not to mention his height. Probably a little over six feet. Just like the distance between us, a little over six feet. I want to talk to him but I don’t want to freak him out. He doesn’t even look at me. He’s just so quiet, it’s like the only person at this place is him. But god, I can look at him for like, forever.

And here I go again, I’m starting to imagine things. I really wish he would face me and ask me, “Hey, you’re not from here, are you?”

And I would answer, “Yeah.”

And he would tell me, “So where are you from?”

And before I could even answer, he would speak again. “Uhmm, let me guess… uhm, Thailand?”

I would shake my head. And he would try again. “Malaysia?”

“Philippines,” I would correct him.

“But, of course.”

“You know any Filipino?”

“Personally?” He would pause, and then say, “No.”

And I would feel sad. But he would not notice. He would ask me, “So what is a Filipino guy doing in Bulgaria?”

I would smile at him. “Oh, nothing really.”

And then he would give me that cute puzzled look. “You flew from Southeast Asia to Europe for nothing? You must be really wealthy!”

I would laugh with him. “It’s not really like that. I’m a diplomat, and I’m based in Munich.”

“But still, Germany is miles away from here. What are you doing here in this humble city of ours?”

I would release a deep sigh. “I was supposed to meet someone who lives in this city. We were supposed to meet… over there. At that cafe.”

“Someone, eh? A lover?”

“No. Just a friend. A special friend.”

He would look around. “Wow. Flying from Munich from here, that friend must be really special. So where’s that special friend now?”

I would not answer. Instead, I would look at him intently.

“Oh… I’m sorry. Ey, you got stood up!” He would laugh a little.

“There’s nothing funny about it,” I would complain.

“Oh, I apologise. That’s too bad. He might’ve forgotten.”

“Surely.”

Again, he would give me that puzzled look. “What makes you so sure?”

I would reluctantly answer, “Because, we made the promise that we would meet up here… eight years ago.”

He would be so shocked. And even when he looks surprised, he’s still so damn goodlooking. “No kidding?”

“No kidding,” I would smirk.

“That’s so nice of you to have actually remembered that promise.”

“I don’t break promises.”

“So how did you meet?”

“We haven’t met personally yet. Had he shown up today, it would’ve been the first.”

“He?” Again, he would look surprised. But he would just smile afterwards. “Oh. How did you become friends, then?”

“Online. Ten years ago. We met in cyberspace. He’s from this city. We became really good friends despite the distance and the fact that we’d never met before.”

“That’s interesting. I used to have online friends, too, you know. But anyway, what happened?”

“We used to always talk about meeting at that cafe,” I would point to the cafe I was in an hour ago. “We were very excited about it. We promised each other that no matter what happens, we would meet up at that place on the first day of December ten years after we first met online.”

“First day of December…. That’s today!” He would look excited.

“But he never came, you see. I waited there for more than four hours. He never arrived.”

“Maybe he was there. You just didn’t recognise him.”

“Oh no, I have so many pictures of him, and we used to chat with our webcams on. I would surely recognise him if he was there.”

“Maybe, he will arrive. Maybe you should wait a little more.”

“I doubt that. I think he has already forgotten about the promise. Or even me.”

“How could he forget about you?” He would be confused.

“You see, after two years of chatting, we eventually became good friends. Almost special. We didn’t really feel the distance. Or the fact that it was only online. But all of a sudden, he just disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yeah. Disappeared. He was never online again. I don’t know what happened. He never returned any of my e-mails. I’ve never seen him again in cyberspace. It’s been eight years since we last talked.”

“And yet, eight years later, you’re here. Hoping he hasn’t forgotten about you and your promise? That’s sweet.”

“Sweet. Yeah. And sad.”

He would finally come closer to me and break the six-foot distance between us to tap my shoulder. “So what happened next?”

And then, the rain turns to drizzle. The rain stopped. And my fantasy is over. I’m back to reality. The truth is, that beautiful man I wish would talk to me is still standing a little over six feet away from me, and has never said a single word. And now, he steps forwards, and looks at the sky, checking if it would rain again. Pleased with what he saw, he begins walking away from the bus stop. And then he disappears.

It pains me. We didn’t even have a chance to talk. And why didn’t I approach him? But it’s too late. He’s gone.

But in my mind, in my fantasy, the man is still there. Tapping my shoulder. He would ask me again, “Hey, so what happened next?”

And I would look at him in the eye, and tell him, “He never arrived at the cafe. But after I waited for four hours, I was at the nearest bus stop. It rained suddenly and to my surprise, walking in the rain towards the same bus stop I was at, was him. Probably a coincidence. And he just stood there. Stayed a little over six feet away from me. When the rain stopped, he just left. He never said a word to me. He didn’t even recognise me.”

And then it starts to pour again.

Inspired by: Haruki Murakami’s On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning, the best contemporary romantic short story for me.

Status: Still Traumatised
Music: A Song for You – Elliott Yamin

Thinking of the most dignified way to kill yourself? Try volunteering for PPCRV as a Poll Watcher.

But surprisingly, I’m still alive. (But I didn’t intend to kill myself, I just wanted to help.) Yep, believe it or not, the ever arrogant Yoshke made a humble and noble choice of volunteering this election season. And after almost 30 hours of no sleep and sagging eyebags and new sets of pimples, I was completely a different person. My mum asked me when I got home, “How was it?” And all I could reply was, “Traumatic.”

I knew it was gonna be tough and rough but I never expected it to be that chaotic, dramatic, and violent. The last sound that a diplomat wannabe wants to hear is the sound of a gunshot. And hell, in that volunteering stint, I got the last thing I wanted. Though it was just a warning shot, for a peace-loving creature like me, it was just too much.

May 14, 6:30am, my first stop was the church to meet the priests who would give me specific instructions. As a PPCRV volunteer, the most important duties were to fill in the Certificates of Votes (COVs) they handed me, and to pick up the 6th copy (Namfrel copy) of election returns from the precincts and drop them off at the parish hall. Other tasks include looking out for cheating incidents and other irregularities.

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Status: Traumatised
Music: Say OK – Vanessa Hudgens

For the longest time, I’ve been a fan of Pinoy Big Brother. From Season 1 to Celebrity and Teen Editions to the current season, I tried to defend PBB from my friend-detractors. And now I find myself being one of them — the detractors. This post might be a spur-of-the-moment thing, but considering how the PBB management has been trying to manipulate everything in the show, even lacking logic or rationality and breaking their own rules of the game, I realised I’ve had enough.

What’s with the Balik-Bahay thing? This is sooo unfair. The people have already decided. And they chose to kick them out of the house. In Season 1, there was also something like this, but that was to replace Bob (forced eviction). This time, Maricris already had a replacement. There is certainly no reason for doing this Balik-Bahay crap. This is just another desperate attempt to save Wendy’s ass and shove her back into the house.

The ex-housemates have already seen and experienced the outside world. And they have been evicted. By the people. Putting them back in the competition ruins the very essence of the program.

And rationalising it by saying that it has been done in other countries? That’s rubbish. They must have had shortage of people creative enough to come up with a hokum. Or maybe not. After all, I doubt if they could really think of a good excuse for this.

And don’t give me that everyone-deserves-a-second-chance reason. Second chance, my ass. That’s bull shit. I know that’s sooo sweet, almost romantic but damn, this is a game. The rules are simple. Housemates nominate those they want out. Viewers decide who’s gonna stay. Viewers. The people. The ones watching the show. The ones who vote. Using their own money. Just to save the ones they like. And trash those they abhor. I really believe that this Balik-Bahay rubbish is a betrayal of the people. And their trust. The people who supported them. And I’m one of them. (Yes, I feel betrayed. Console me.)

I would worship PBB for all its worth kung entertainment value rin lang. HOWEVER, this time, they just crossed a very very important line. This is also a game. And so, fairness is crucial. As much as I wanted to make the show more exciting by letting them put Wendy back into the game, I know that’s not fair — to the housemates left inside and the viewers who spent money just to save their housemates of choice. Because I said, this is not just a show, or a reality show, this is a game.

I can’t believe they’re doing all of this just because of their vested interests. Two things. The roots of all evil. One is money. And the other is Wendy. They might’ve earned a lot when Wendy was nominated that most people, even those who didn’t like Dionne and Saicy, voted for the other two just to have Wendy evicted. And now that Wendy is up for another chance, the management may be enjoying another round of addictive profits. And here we go again, Wendy gets so much airtime. Stories all focus on the Wendy-Bruce all-for-show fake team-up (hoping they would make a bankable loveteam outside). Direk Lauren Dyogi must really love this bitch. And that makes Dyogi a filthier bitch, licking Wendy’s ass all the time.

And if airtime ain’t enough, just take a look at this article:

While the housemates were confined in the boys room, Wendy and the others were allowed out of their secret room and into the kitchen to prepare their lunch…

Hmmm. Wendy and the others? And Wendy is the only one who deserves a name to be mentioned? Who is she, Nicole Kidman? Damn it.

I really, really feel betrayed and violated. This is a scam! We are cheated by the management. Sayang lang ang mga load natin na ginamit para ma-evict yung ayaw natin, maibabalik lang din naman pala sila. Ano ba ‘to eleksyon? Hanggang PBB ba naman, uso ang dayaan? Pinaglalaruan na lang tayo ng PBB. Niloloko na lang tayo. Binabastos na lang tayo. Ginagago na lang tayo. The viewers are not dumb. We are not stupid. I-boycott ang PBB.

Fuck you, PBB. You’ve just lost a fan. And I’m sure I’m not alone.

(But I really hope this is just one of my spur-of-the-moment things. Coz I love the show. Or at least, I used to.) *photo courtesy of 43things.com

Status: Anxious
Music: Big Girls Don’t Cry – Fergie

On domestic news, my mum is being annoyingly hardheaded these days. For months now, she’s been complaining about the lumps on her breasts but never really mustered enough courage to see a doctor and once and for all know what it was until last week. Because there seemed to be no reputable hospital or competent physician to take care of her here in Lemery (as far as my mum is concerned), and on my cousin’s advice, she travelled to Lipa City for a series of tests.

A week later, she learnt what it really was. But until now, she wouldn’t tell us the findings. And I’ve been sick worried trying to figure out if it’s cyst, tumor, or cancer. She won’t let us know. What’s with the suspense? All she said was that she would face it herself — alone. And that’s she was encouraged to undergo a surgery. But my mum refuse to let the doctors operate on her. Insists she’s not ready and will not be anytime soon.

Damn it. They say ignorance is bliss. But this is something I need to know. I already lost my dad to cancer. It will never claim the only parent I have left. Not again.

Status: Dangerously Hungry
Music: Makes Me Wonder – Maroon 5

Nigel Barker visits Manila. And Ayn, Dohna, Tez, and I were there to show some hospitality and lovin’. If Nigel Barker doesn’t ring a bell, OK, let me tell you that he’s a celebrity photographer and the British bashing (and dashing) judge on America’s Next Top Model. I actually didn’t know he was here until Dohna sent me a text message forcing me to go to Greenbelt with her. And being the kaladkarin that I am, pumayag naman ako despite the rain and very humid atmosphere. While at the train station, we came across Tez who was about to go home but we managed to do a little brainwashing on her. The program was less than an hour but it was very, very substantial. Nigel made a lot of sense and imparted several useful practical tips on fashion photography. And not to mention he was cute. At least his lips were.

I’m being a glutton nowadays. I eat a lot. I usually find myself craving for something. Two days ago, I was desperately wanting sandwiches. And yesterday, while having lunch with Shiena, Luke, and Helen (my friends from Ateneo review classes), I was crazy over sausages. Yes, sausages — food. Not the other thing you have in mind. Though I wasn’t able to have sausages for lunch yesterday, I got a bunch in the evening. Yum yum. And lately, I’m always hungry.

Dear (?) Wendy Valdez of Pinoy Big Brother Season 2,

You don’t know how much you made me happy when you got evicted from the PBB house last night. It was one of the most glorious moments of my TV-watching life. It made my day.

At sa ABS-CBN, mabuti naman at hindi n’yo minanipulate yung resulta ng botohan tulad ng pag-manipulate nyo sa airtime (the Bitch, Wendy, had had more than her share) at pag-edit out ng mga scenes wherein the Bitch was backstabbing the other housemates.

At muli, Wendy, my final words, mabuti nga sa’yo. At feeling mo, popular ka. Sana ay hindi ka magka-career dito sa labas.

[ evil laugh ]