concert tickets... check!

plane tickets to singapore...check!

take me to the riot, torquil and co. :) going to singapore this january for one of my three-musical-acts-to-see-before-i-die -- Stars!!!

but wait, there's more! i'll be with two of my best ladies, pats and leica, swooning over a band that played an important role at important junctures in our lives. this is going to be excellent!

...and on the following day that we got the tickets, guess what? i heard that Swell Season (number two among the three) will be in Australia, South Korea and Japan early next year, too.

Dave Matthews Band (guess what spot they occupy on my list?) na lang, pwede na rin akong mamatay.

my inner idiot is grinning and giddy =D

(blame Pats and Djong for this rambling ;p )

It's a dream I've been nurturing since I started dutifully following Ian Wright's exploits on Lonely Planet. We are now in the year 2008, and that was back in 1998--10 years and still an unrequited love. You wouldn't think I've been harboring such notions just by looking at my grande Starbucks tea frappe and perfectly applied eyeliner.

My friend Eric, whose now in Cambodia, laments the absence of the ubiquitous chain in his new home city, yet he makes me salivate by announcing that massage places litter the streets like 7-11s.

I want to visit him in Cambodia, Pats in Singapore, dear Ryan in South Korea, Rony, Gerwin and Charlie in Singapore, life partner Louie, sexy Ems and Lifebunny in Hong Kong, Jon in Spain, Janne in Finland, Donna in the UK, Graeme in Scotland, Dwayne in Indiana, Yas in Dubai, maybe Emi in Romania, Essi wherever she is at the moment...

During the bad in-betweeners of my life, I swung from blaming family and circumstances, to blaming myself--both in highly passionate ways that boggle the mind.

Still, there is a shining nugget I managed to pick up--strength. Life's hell-bent ways gave me tree-trunk-like sea legs, and I want to keep using them.

Now that life is being quite kind and cushy to me, I can't help but look for the imbalance that only a churning ocean can provide. I long for the comfort that I've always found in constant change.

Instead of expecting the unexpected, I don't expect at all. Deal me what cards you will, and with those, I'll play like a loony. I'll probably even wager (and lose) everything, yet find redemption in smiling like a drunken sailor.

In life, I can strategize, plan and mind-f**k like the best of them. But I'd rather I didn't. I really would much prefer to be thrown somewhere and I'll be happy to learn how I'll deal with it. I can't imagine a purer heaven. Give me something and some things never to be defined. Give me the raucous, the sweaty and the revolting. Challenge me in ways that will make me rant and spit and give birth to strange, unwieldy energies.

I have always believed that by traveling, my sea legs will find happiness.

I want to talk to different and differing people, be forced to eat strange food, work for my breakfast...

You know what they say about potential? I can do it, therefore I must do it.

Damn the comfort zone and its accompanying delusions. I am dying to have a taste of the biggest possible perspective by constantly being in motion.

I want to see The Frames live in Ireland, Dave Matthews Band in Virginia and join the Burning Man community at least once. There are also fairy conventions in various part of this weird, wonderful world. Yes, I want to be there, too.

Sometimes, I think I'm too old to start backpacking, Couchsurfing and going on trips that plenty of those half my age have probably already enjoyed. But I reckon I can always lie and say i'm only 27.

Until when shall I keep to where the Starbucks stores are aplenty?

Boom-de-ah-dah!

LeRoi Moore, saxophonist of my one and only Dave Matthews Band, has died unexpectedly of complications from an ATV accident that happened last June.

i have never seen them live. and now he's dead. i am so seriously sad. i want to cry. i don't want to believe this has happened. sorry, drama. but it's LeRoi. DMB won't be the same. i don't know what to say or do or think. i am grieving over a musician who helped form a big part of who i am. #41, still my favorite song in the world now, won't be the same, ever.

it's on my list of life dreams to see them live...

i will go in this way, and find my own way out... why won't you run into the rain and play? let the tears splash all over you.

rest in peace, o dreadlocked one. thank you. Thank You. THANK YOU. for making music that matters and saves lives.

(warning: drama mode)

the truth is, i'm not particularly very good at it, but this thing that my friends introduced me to makes me feel like nothing else.

i started surfing in 2005, before la union was as popular and crowded a destination as it is now, but still many years after my friends first got into it. i would probably be a third or even fourth generation model if surfers were marketed like ipods.

generally, i'm pretty resilient but many, many, many things have really started beating on my armor. sometimes, i really do feel there's nothing left for me on this planet, except for trying to take care of my internal organs so someone can make use of them when i can't anymore. and in between seriously considering if i have mononucleosis or, well, that thing that will put you in the 7th circle of dante's hell, is the shining thought of paddling out towards the horizon.

everytime i catch a wave, life feels completely peaceful. i don't have a care in the world but for the speed of the water that's carrying me, the wind on my face, and the shore that's coming up to greet me. then i paddle back out, raise my upper body with every wave i meet, and crash down on the water with the board as my protector. there's nothing more exhilarating than maneuvering myself in a current that's always changing and deserves the utmost respect. the perfect marriage of man and mother earth.

and when the city, with all its unnecessary trappings and misplaced priorities, staggers me with a sense of profound futility, nothing jolts me awake quite like the thought of hopping on that bus and getting ready to greet the water. and i move on with a renewed sense of joy, looking forward to my next surfing trip.

the mighty, mighty water and what it can do to and with you, that's something to worry about, not the rules that the modern world dictates. money, sex, beauty, social image, i don't really care. what would hefty savings and "name" mean if i went through this life an empty shell--cooing over my next gadget or fashion purchase, or worrying too much about money that i've forgotten the richer gift of loving?

and when the story feels like it has gone on too long, has become too tiring, or is going around in circles, an ending seems the best solution. or i can just throw the book out.

and once more, i retain my tenuous hold on the tether to life for just one more ride, or even just one more wipeout. the water--it keeps moving me along :)

thanks, guys.

fangirling. sharing. reviewing soon. have a listen and i'm sure you'll want to get your own copy. best tracks: Falling Slowly, When Your Mind's Made Up, Gold, The Hill, Fallen from the Sky, Leave and Say It to Me. *hikbi*

while i await ron perlman's red-horned goodness with bated breath, i just saw a movie that is now entrenched as "my best movie for 2008" (and maybe til the next year, and the next, and the next...). thank you, k, for coercing me to see it

i'm still a little sniffly and i've yet to compose my thoughts, but i hope to be able to write a review that will do it justice

Once is a movie that tells what happens when random guy meets responsible girl... through achingly earnest music. there's a very, Very personal connection i made with the film when it ended. yep, sometimes, once is enough, but it's also often all you'll get... still, it can be cosmic and beautiful, leaving an incredible impression on your heart.

yeah, he looks like him, too... "take this sinking boat and point it home. we've still got time..."

here's the trailer



here's the purty song:



penge tisyu

because i did not have a digicam with video function last june 28...thanks to whoever uploaded this. makati ave girls look! a complete esma yalli!

KB, Katch and I are trying to get used to dancing in heels :) hee hee!

when "oh this looks an episode on fear factor" popped into my head, i knew my brain was kicking in. Still, it was not until it issued the imperative "Danger. Let it go" when i finally released my hold on my handbag.

i would like to say i was tenacious, a fighter, but the hindsight that i could have died, as well as the throbbing of some wounds and bruises, would say i was being stupid. i hope my younger siblings read this and think "That really was a stupid thing to do, ate".

Still, i can't fault my instinct. That was the first thing it wanted to do in those first few seconds, to go all "oh no, you don't!" and keep pulling at my handbag's strap even though i was aware of being dragged across the ground at motorcycle speed...against the flow of traffic on zobel roxas. My friend was right when she said, "you know, you'll never really know what you can and will do until you're actually faced with a certain situation."

i always said i'd just give up my things if i get mugged. and i was surprised to know that my instinct, and a little part of my conscious self, was not to, pala. that was what really made my heart throb extra hard a few hours later, that there were a few seconds when i was consciously just not letting go, still fighting. some of the similar muggings in my area involve riders with guns or metal tubes to hurt their victims. what if this dude had a gun? i would have been very easy to shoot, and fatally, being the quite large and noticeable buntot of their little ride. upon reflecting on it later, i also realized that, should there have been a parked car that obstructed my legs in those first few "stupid" seconds while i was in angry mode, my instinct would have been to pull very hard and make the second rider fall off. but what if he does fall off yet manage to pull something on me before i could escape? i pride myself on being relatively brave, but not on being foolhardy. jesus christ.

no, i'm not blaming myself. there's really no one to blame for people who'd rather hurt others than take on an honest job, even if it's just powering pedicabs (the drivers were actually one of the first people by my side, apart from ate josie who shouted so loud to alert everyone when she saw me fall). i'm just surprised at my not-so-smart initial reaction to something like this. i hope my instincts know better next time.

obviously, i don't think i'll get over this for a while, and i'm still very, Very nervous to step out of my house as it happened just right at the corner from where i live, i had a companion and it was 8am. i'm actually quite careful and aware because these people are always roaming our streets. apparently, even that is not enough to be safe from these lazy bastards. may they be raped by a gang of hyperactive carabaos (thanks, roj!). then may the tusks of ornery elephants find their way to anal crevices ideally used for pleasure. then may somebody bash their faces so bad they look like the love child of gollum and ephialtes. but then may they still retain full function of their johnsons so they feel a profound pain when absolutely no one will touch them.

apart from what seems like minor injuries, the damage includes my dear mobile phone (which doesn't deserve this treatment), my digital camera (replaceable), my wallet with official IDs and bank cards (alerted and blocked, except for official IDs that i still have to work on). what i consider the greatest loss is my little notebook with the Gustav Klimt painting on the cover. that had all my ideas, some writing, plans, passwords (already changed), dreams, favorite things, etc. I'm still crying about this, but i would be lying if i said trauma wasn't thrown in there somewhere.

later in the evening while i was praying before bedtime, i apologized to my body and said "i'm sorry i put you through that, but thank you for letting go. i'll take better care of you, okay?" i'm just happy that, at some point, the more powerful part of my brain COMMANDED my body to let it go. there was, honestly, a little part that wanted to hold on because it believed i could still win. i'm happiest that my body followed the other part of my brain. i think that was my Guardian Angel's doing. and i keep breathing a sigh of relief that somebody, something, released my hands' grip before either the thieves hurt me with something or a car ran me over. Thank God, indeed. Thank you, God. THANK. YOU. GOD. boy does he know what he's doing. whew.

now i have to push myself to still go about my normal life, even though my heart is hammering at the thought of stepping past our gate. but i have to, else i'd have lost more than my bag and what was in it. today's a sunday and the wounds on my feet (not so bad, actually, but there were thin layers of flesh that got removed) are throbbing like anything. it could be because i decided to still push through with my recital last night because i needed something to smile about. now That is the right kind of courage.

somebody said after seeing me perform, "parang akala mo wala lang nangyari sa 'yo ah." i went all batman (frank miller-style) and said, "it's a simple matter of telling your body to turn that grimace of pain into an extra wide on-stage smile."

(as a request, can you just pray for my family? :D i had some bank info in there and i'm afraid they may think we have money or something and do something worse than robbing just me. thank you :) )

a major reason why i envy people my age living in countries where playfulness and a true sense of fun have space to breathe...

Of course, New York is it...

and London won't be left behind. they did this last year, too.

i asked this group before if we can implement a game in Manila (yeah, yeah, fat chance) and i got a response from Eevil Midget of their Shadow Government, with side comments about how his Supreme Commander and Mustache Commander have preferences for strip clubs. I refrained from emailing my well-composed fire-and-brimstone response.

ah, well. someday, soon. i can feel it in my twinkle toes.

what i like most about her is that she'll really share the technique with you. you can tell she just loves to dance and wants other people to be as happy :)

(reprinted from my old blog, ilikeithere.blogspot.com, 2005. this is exactly how i'm feeling these days. i tell ya, the spirits are good to me ;-) )

Officially, I've lost only 5 pounds since I went gym-ing. I should be screaming my head off at the treadmill but I'm not.

A couple of years ago (maybe 3 years ago), I could lose that blubber in a snap when I wanted to. All I did was just eat more fruits and fiber, say no to soda, rice and red meat. Credit also goes to my family because we've always loved exploring healthier food options. So all that new-age eating wasn't really very hard for me, if and when I wanted to.

Now, no matter what I do, I'm still flabby. For the first time in my life, though, I'm not really minding it. I guess I've come to a point where I'm excited to become the person I'm supposed to become, whoever (and whatever that will be). Sure, I'd still like to be able to fit into my old beloved "thinner" clothes (ack! I miss wearing my pink satin capris!) I lurved to wear circa 2000-2003. But you know, I'm curious (and dang excited) to see what my body and the rest of the world wants to happen =)

I feel more powerful and more womanly than I have in ages. Heck, I feel primitive, and raw, like the original cavewoman. I like this. I like not ascribing to labels of what's sexy and what's not, what's "creative" and what's not, what's "cool" (still hating that word after all these years...don't snort, jon) and what's "dang-that-woman-is-hot". I love being an outsider =)

I used to write in my journals that there is no better way to be than to participate but distance yourself at the same time. That way, you observe, study, analyze and breathe everything in as part of the Big Picture. Most of the time, it's freaking overwhelming. I guess, early on, I set myself up for feeling things immensely (but very quietly and internally, often exploding in other *surprise* areas). It's a kind of draining that I continue to search for and want to happen again, and again, and again. And again. I want to die being completely drained of whatever-that-is. Sneaking in to watch Like Water for Chocolate (despite Not Being Allowed To) when I was 11/12 years old may have something to do with that, too =D

It's ironic and amusing that I want to be drained (not of feeling, but all that repressed, um, "fire", i guess) but don't mind NOT being drained of the physical excess (re: fat, taba, lipids). I’m secretly looking forward to what I’ll be like when I’m 30. Probable crow eyes, thudbutt and all =D I just know that everything in my head and heart will be fucking radiant. All that older, wiser, calmer, more in-tune with nature schtick. Yes, I believe that. Old tree-hugging soul, methinks =)

Join me here in space. It is gorgeous. And it's not really cold, either. It's hazy most of the time but just truly lovely =) This, I think, is the perpetual high.

I cannot and will not be able to stay away from all that delicious cheese so I guess I will just go on waddling contedtedly.

Background Music: Creedence Clearwater Revival: Greatest Hits