Dork in a dress

On Gamelan and (not) having babies

2012-02-05T06:30:00.000-08:00

I have a one-hour Gamelan ensemble class every Wednesday. Originating from Indonesia, every Gamelan set is believed to be inhabited by spirits and one must always treat the instruments with respect and handle them with the utmost care. I realized later on that this was why a friend was shushing me with wide eyes when I had smuggled a bag of potato chips inside and began eating. I had no idea. I thought the reason we were leaving our shoes outside the room was because we didn't want to get the carpet dirty.

Anyway, one of the things we are taught never to do is to step over a Gamelan instrument. They say this will effectively kill off any chances of you having your own children. So whenever we have to pass through, we move the instruments aside instead of walking over them.

But if I were to be completely honest about my thoughts, most of the time I sit there thinking that if what people believed about the Gamelan were true, what an awesome form of contraception it would be.

Catherine

On Papa Piolo's bright, sun shiny outlook

2012-01-30T04:08:00.000-08:00

Photo by Doc Marlon Pecjo

In answer to questions about his silence on the blown up break-up issue, the actor says, "Oh, because I always look on the brighter side of things. I’m a very positive person and I don’t dwell on negative things. I always look forward, I always look ahead, and I just pray."

Mmmm... I don't know. People who inflict damage on others, leave it completely unadressed and go around saying, "Oh, I choose to be positive! Flowers! Rainbows! Sunshine!" are so freakin' sketchy! Of course I don't know the whole story as I believe reading about it through the media is never enough. But from what I do know that's how it looks.

Somehow KC's take on the whole issue seems to be a lot more authentic than Papa P's.

I guess all I'm trying to say is, ang positive thinking ay nilulugar. Or well, deal with your shit first and clear things up on your end before you go around portraying the good guy who prays. At the end of the day, no one likes icing on mud.

Catherine

Ikaw na ang dakilang extra na naging bonggang bida!

2012-01-22T00:46:00.000-08:00

Two things I'll admit to, regarding my previous post on Six Degrees of Separation from Lilia Cuntapay:

1) I wasn't able to catch any of the previous screenings of movie, which is why I wanted a commercial release in the first place. Based on the trailer, the reviews, and the six awards it bagged from the Cinema One Originals 2011 Awards, I had a very good gut feel about it, but alas there were no pirated DVDs to be found (just kidding).

2) I did not help spread the word about the free screening at UP Diliman last Friday, January 20, because the poster said they would only accommodate the first 50 students. What is selfish and competitive? Haha!

But now that I have seen it, I really regret not telling people about it. Because, YOU HAVE TO!
I don't think I've ever been hooked for the ride so much by any movie. I'm usually the detached one in the theaters or concert halls who has to pretend to be awed and affected with the rest of my peers. But for this one, I found myself hanging on seamlessly, as if I knew the titular character well, myself. Concerned kung concerned!

Lilia Cuntapay is a name no one remembers to have heard before (at least until this movie came out). But Pinoys know her pagan, pre-Christian features well, as she has been cast time and time again in various horror movies, such as Aswang and Shake, Rattle and Roll.

Six Degrees is a mockumentary that follows the film extra through the days leading up to a fictionalized awards night where she is nominated as Best Supporting Actress for the very first time.

I guess what made the movie work the most was Lilia's character. In the film, she is portrayed as a hopelessly optimistic and forgiving 75-year-old woman. She is extremely appreciative. Even for the smallest things, like two short extra lines for a 6am taping, she will burst into a ball of sunshine and show up at 4:30 am on set. She will rehearse her lines with full commitment and enthusiasm.

You know the kind of old person who in a way becomes like a child again, and you find yourself wanting to make sure nothing breaks her heart? That kind of endearing old woman. When she's squealing open heaven you smile and hope she's right, while at the back of your mind you cross your fingers that the roof won't fall on her head. And when it does, albeit predictably so, her depression and frustration are so palpable and pure that you just sit there, silent, feeling it and not daring to fix it. Although in some scenes you want to slap the insensitive prick responsible for her plight. You want to slap the industry that keeps ignoring her, editing her out, raising her hopes to high heavens only to send her crashing down.

The people in Lilia's neighborhood add to the effect. Filipinos are very communal by nature. Take it to the congested slum areas where Lilia lives and you've got an even tighter-knit community, both literally and figuratively, multiplying the emotion and the story at least ten fold. In a way I felt like I was one of them in that very Pinoy, "It's not my story but I'm affected," way.

The drama and the social commentary on the movie industry are balanced out by the candid humor of the film and Lilia's childlike nature. It doesn't come across as preachy, righteous, heavy or tibak in any way. It just is what it is without obliging you to care, which is why you can't help it.

After the free screening, a design producer in the room asked what issues the team was dealing with with regards to gaining a commercial release. Director, Antonette Jadaone and producer, Joenathann Alandy explained that producers had doubts that people would pay to watch an entire movie based on a film extra who up until recently had no screen name to speak of. But you've already heard my take on Lilia's character. All that is needed, in my opinion, is good and clever marketing. Plus she's been getting a lot of attention lately, like being included in the shooting for Bourne Legacy here in the Philippines, and a six-page interview in Yes! magazine's upcoming February issue.

Another main concern was the film's being indie and novelty. It had producers worried that it may not cross over to the mass audience. Having seen the film, I find this ridiculous. Zombadings was even weirder and out of this world, and that sold really well. Six Degrees isn't one of those high-falluting independent movies that pretentious artsy and intellectual people watch to decipher hidden meanings and to discuss douchery over wine. No. This one is immediately relatable. All you need to be able to understand it is a heart and a dream of your own that you want to live. Anyone who aspires for something at the very least knows what it's like to fear the possibility of being unacknowledged for years of hard work (in Lilia's case, over 30 years). Wanting to be appreciated and recognized and dreading to be the next Van Gogh is universal to human beings. They even showed the film to a foreign audience who knew nothing about Pinoy pop culture, and the heart of it still translated clearly.

So if you've seen it, you know movies like this ought to be shared with as many people as possible, and that mainstream Philippine cinema could use fresh angles and ideas that at the same time are very easy to appreciate. And if you haven't seen it, all the more you must support the commercial release of this film --so you get to watch!

In other words, there is no reason not to spread the word :)

Catherine

p.s. For those who'll be at UPLB, Six Degrees will have a screening on Jan 25-26, then will be flying to SM Cebu on Feb 12-16. Check their Facebook for updates.

Cuteness that tugs at the heart strings

2012-01-16T08:03:00.000-08:00

Even if I Don't - Rachael Yamagata

As my friend, Dani put it, "It's so cute, you put your guards down and then you realize that it's actually attacking you."

Cute fluff that was the stuff of our childhood entertainment and imagination has a way of visually downplaying but psychologically fleshing out a song's emotional affect. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's because when we were children, we let all our emotions run freely and vividly through us without the aid of resignation, cynicism, numbness, apathy, beer, being "strong" and any of the other masks and coping mechanisms we learn to put on as we grow up.

Catherine

This dakilang extra deserves a commercial release!

2012-01-09T01:19:00.000-08:00

Lilia Cuntapay is that old lady you're sure you've seen before but can't remember where. She was the manananggal, mangkukulam, white lady and all around creepy lola for countless Filipino horror movies such as Shake, Rattle and Roll and Aswang. Well, this time she steps out of the darkness and plays the lead in her own movie, Six Degrees of Separation from Lilia Cuntapay. In her very own mockumentary, the proud, always early on set, but perpetually ignored and film extra is followed around, leading up to an imagined awards night where she takes the stage and the trophy.

The 2011 Cinema One Originals Digital Film Festival, however, wasn't imagined and everybody cheered as the unassuming showbiz underdog bagged the Best Actress award.

And now, after a very limited number of screenings at the Shang Cineplex last year, the dakilang extra of Philippine showbiz has furthered her demands:

Hello mga Anak!

Please help me and direk Antoinette Jadaone (UP Film Institute graduate, nax!) get a commercial screening. Just Share, Reblog or Tweet about our film, Six Degrees of Separation from Lilia Cuntapay. Baka may makabasang mabuti ang kalooban at matulungan kami. Thank you!

Lovelots, Nay Lilia

P.S.

Click my poster to visit my FB page mga anak, xoxo Lilia C

Seriously. How can you not? Mainstream Philippine cinema needs more novel ideas, interesting angles and genuinely endearing characters like this. If you're a producer with a heart, or know of anybody with the will and the pockets to give it a go, e-mail the director at antoinette.jadaone@gmail.com

Catherine

On Pinoy cultural identity: What is ours?

2011-12-30T18:50:00.000-08:00

My music history classes on Southeast Asia and Oceania made me realize that there is no such thing as a pure culture. Here in the Philippines we like to complain that we're a boiling pot of too many colors, that the Spanish colonized us for 300 years and obliterated what was originally there, made us Catholic among many other things, that our intelligentsia now speak English because of the Americans, that we have nothing to call our own and we don't know who we are.

In class I learned that the Thai originated as an outcast but organized culture in Southern China. The Mongol invasion eventually forced them to move out in three directions: Northern Burma, Northern Laos and Vietnam and Present-day Thailand, where they conquered the Khmer city of Sukothai in 1238. The Thai captured Khmer land, but the Khmer culture captured the Thai. And to this day, the ancient buildings that we see and what we know to be Thai traditional culture (perhaps you've watched The King and I and remember Siam), belong to their ancient captives. But if you've ever been to Thailand, you will see that they own their culture fully, from the Suvarnabhumi Airport, their architecture and cultural sites, the spirit houses, and the numerous religious accessories found in their taxi cabs.

And there are many other examples. Nobody has anything that is truly their own. There is only what we choose to call our own. We were all altered by someone, something, some place too many times, and we remain just as mutable. In short, nagfi-feeling lang tayo that we're a special case. What if we're missing out on who we really are in the present because we're too focused on who we think we're supposed to be, based on a group of animists who originally populated our shores too many years ago. What if we're problematizing over something that isn't even a problem? And our present identity has been right here with us all along, just waiting to be recognized for what it is and given due credit?

Catherine

On receiving "fake, technologically contrived" birthday greetings on Facebook

2011-12-08T08:09:00.001-08:00

I hate it when my spit makes a U-turn for my face.

I must also note that while I largely rely on Facebook for the reminding, it doesn't diminish the fact that I genuinely want to greet whoever I'm greeting. Recalling my enthusiasm every time I type away on someone's wall made me think that perhaps I have been giving people too little credit. This is what happens when you entertain your unresolved birthday issues instead of the people who take the time to make your day special. Thankfully Cat the Grouch is gone, so I can now give my sincerest thanks to everyone who sent their love :)

Catherine

Attraction: The pursuit

2011-12-01T22:22:00.001-08:00

The other night, my girl friends and I opted out of a big group inuman at Pivo in favor of each other's familiar company and our favorite comfort food: Uncle Moe's beef kebab with buttered rice and a pot of juicy salsa. It always hits the sweetest spot when we're hungry, which we were. That plus a few rounds of San Miguel Light and good, satisfying conversation.

I noticed this guy at the next table kept glancing our way and was subtly (well, trying to be) eavesdropping on our tipsy, free-flowing exchange. He ordered a meal, asked for the bill, and started browsing through a magazine from the restaurant's rack, all while listening to us talk.

Finally, in a stroke of guts, he turned to us and asked what provinces we were from, and if it was okay for him to ask. Jewel said she was from Ilocos, Kris said she was from Manila ("Para end of convo na agad," she told us later), and I shook my hand to say I didn't have one.

He said that he too didn't have a province. He then brought up Negros and asked if anyone of us had been there. We all said no. He then suggested that we really should check it out and that the cuisine was awesome, pointing to an article on Negros in the magazine he was reading, just as he was standing up to ~~escape the awkward situation~~ leave.

"Weird," was our simultaneous reaction.

Kris admitted, "Actually, I've been to Negros. Hindi ko na lang sinabi kasi baka humaba pa ang conversation."

"I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt," Jewel said. "Baka gusto lang talaga niyang makipag-usap at wala talaga siyang pakay. And true enough mukhang wala nga."

"Nah, he's been checking us out since he got here," I said.

"Yeah, I noticed that too. He was eavesdropping," Kris confirmed.

Mission status: FAILED!

Although I must say, no matter how painful that episode was (and how), I give him credit for the guts. A guy friend of mine once pointed out to me that most women don't realize that it takes something from a man to get up there and risk doing it wrong and end up looking stupid and/or creepy. I also shudder at the thought that they may also have to practice and fumble in front of several women (in this case, the man fumbled in front of three) before they become good at it. It's a very distinct kind of guts that I'm GLAD I'm not required to muster in today's society (go patriarchy!).

My friend Migs once brought to my attention that this kind of culture was cheating women of their choice to actually go after whomever they want. I agreed with his point several years ago, but I have since changed my mind and currently have three simple answers:

1) Women have their ways.
2) If a person doesn't like you back, it's not because of the "repressive" system. It's because he doesn't like you back (i.e. move on and don't waste time on people who need convincing)
3) Most importantly, who said we want to do the hunting? I don't. I really don't. In all honestly, I love my role.

Nothing against girls who make and/or have made the first move. If you were hot at it and it worked, then that's that. Mine's really just a preference. As far as the pursuit of attraction is concerned, I don't mind if the man wears the pants because what I really want to wear is the hair. And no, I don't have feminist complexes about being this kind of woman.

Catherine

On the Ruffa, John Lloyd and Shaina controversy

2011-11-09T01:58:00.000-08:00

Yes, apparently I care about showbiz issues now.

Check out this article and video first

On Shaina: Never fight a classy woman with crass. Actually, never fight anyone with crass, period. There's a word for this and I think it's called dignity. A queen knows that it is to be valued above all else and that any man who compels her to sacrifice this probably doesn't have any of his own. Cause if he did he would understand this perfectly and act accordingly. Also, I know we value pagpapakatotoo in this society, but I don't think that's an excuse to be psycho-chimay.

On John Lloyd: Ewan ko sa'yo. I can't believe you're the guy my friends have crushes on. There is nothing sadder than a man who doesn't know how to be a man. Yes, patriarchy is cruel to both sexes, honey. Weakness is for women only. Get your shit together.

On Ruffa: A smart bitch cuts cleanly, doesn't use unnecessary taray-heat, chooses her words, keeps her demeanor in check, takes out the opponent without getting any blood on her hands, wins her battles and comes out the good girl. You are one of them and you are my idol! (at least as far as this issue is concerned)

Catherine

Missed connections

2011-11-07T05:05:00.000-08:00

I showed up for a photo shoot at 10:30 in the morning, only to find out as soon as I arrived that it had been moved to 1pm. Funny how exchanging glances with a stranger on the train, and after minutes of hurried walking to Ateneo and negotiating the entrance and exit rules with a security guard, unexpectedly seeing him walk by in the campus and flash me a smile made me not mind at all. I simply decided to burn the time at Starbucks and claim my complimentary hot Toffee Nut Latte in an almost empty shop with warm Christmas music playing in the background. It was a good morning.

I saw him again walking by the same spot when I returned two and a half hours later for the shoot. I cowardly bowed my head and pretended to text while walking to the Blue Eagle Gym. It was agonizing because the timing of the whole thing had me walking behind him on the narrow path, so I had to deliberately slow down to keep the distance. I'm a natural brisk walker and he was walking slowly, so I felt extremely off and out of balance. I didn't see him again after that.

Later in the day, it got me thinking about missed connections. You know, those little sparks we share with strangers whom we most probably won't see again? When I was a lot younger with a romanticized state of mind, I used to desperately wish for these so-called missed connections to eventually lead into something real and tangible. If they didn't, which was mostly the case, I became at least a little bit sad. You can blame romantic movies like Serendipity for that.

From Postsecret

Fast forward to that morning as I was having coffee by myself, I realized I was happy and content with the way things were. I thanked the universe (yes, I pray to the universe) for these random little gifts, such as a smile and a good morning, even if they never grew into anything more.

I also thought about the possibility of any of my missed connections actually looking for me. Hindi naman sa nagfi-feeling. I just like to consider multiple possibilities, especially since we're living in the internet age and there are actually sites that cater directly to forwarding such encounters, aside from Facebook and Google themselves.

Much to my surprise, I realized that I wasn't sure I wanted to be found. Not that I'm absolutely closed to the idea, but it's scary, don't you think? The scenario of a missed connection is perfect in its silence and smiles. But the closer you step toward another human being, the propensity for chaos grows. And that's not an unfounded fear. It's true that the people we are closest to are the ones with whom we share the bumpiest of relationships.

There's something about the chemistry of a missed connection that has me want to just leave it as it is, in time and perfection. No shattered expectations, no disappointments, no reality check, no finding out that, "Oops! Just kidding! I don't like you pala," or vice versa. You know, like meeting guys at bars with your beer goggles on? Only to find out later that... meh.

Of course you never know what you're missing out on. It could be heaven, hell, blah, or most probably something in between.

Catherine

Why you shouldn't drag a guy along to go shopping

2011-10-31T05:43:00.000-07:00

Seen on FB

HAHAHA! I have to say, that is one smart guy. He knows how to get his way when he isn't being listened to. I could learn a thing or two from him, minus the self-humiliating acts of weirdness.

My take on this as a woman: Well, I almost always shop on my own. There's a certain kind of freedom that comes with not having to consider another person's interest and attention span when I'm supposedly indulging in "me time."

I decline my baby brother when he says he wants to come with me to the mall. I can already foresee him complaining after ten minutes of being surrounded by women's clothing, pushing me to go to the toy/video game section and to buy him a sundae. Grown men and my baby brother are fundamentally the same in the sense that they will want to be somewhere else when a woman does her shopping. So I simply don't bring them along. It's so much easier to tend to my needs (and wants) when I don't have to deal with an unwilling participant. Diba? Para ko na ring binasag ang sarili kong trip.

So ladies, for the happiness and sanity of both parties, leave your men at home. If it's an issue of neediness... I don't know. Listen to Beyonce? If it's a second opinion you're after, why the hell are you assigning the job to a man? Self-sabotage? HAHA. You have enough taste for the both of you (unless of course, he's secretly gay).

Catherine

A Perfect Life

2011-10-29T19:08:00.000-07:00

From Postsecret.com

I was having a few beers with friends when I turned to Mac.

"You know there was a time when I was convinced that if I only attained certain things, lived life on a higher, more empowered level, ok na. My life will be good. Now I really get that it's never gonna happen. It's never gonna be perfect. No matter what I do, it's not coming!" I laughed at myself.

On a conceptual level I knew, just like everybody else, that life wasn't perfect. It's common sense. Nevertheless, just like everybody else, I constantly strove to fix and improve myself, solve all my problems and achieve any number of things, as if on the other side of that was the ideal life I was looking for, where everything would finally be okay, or at the very least be infinitely better. 22 years (almost 23) and I still haven't run out of significant issues to deal with. Every time I or my life "levels up" so to speak, so do my problems.

Last week, one of my gorgeous, heart breaker girlfriends picked me up from my house to vent all her insecurities. "Iinom tayo ah!" she said with conviction.

"Diyos ko, pati ba naman ikaw may issues?" I thought. Humanity spares nobody.

Going back to my conversation with Mac, she smiled at me and said, "Well, consider that perfect na kasi buhay mo!"

Not ideal, but perfect in the sense that it is what it is and it's not what it's not. Perfect if you really acknowledge the truth that in life there are problems and therefore be open to the idea that you are right where you ought to be. I recently related it to watching a movie and the main character is going through something. Everybody in the audience gets that it's perfect.

I'll be honest. Optimism isn't a special talent of mine. I am very candid with others as well as to myself. So candid that I can't even fool myself with a tub of ice cream when I know I feel bad. Retail therapy and all those other quick fixes that people promise will make you feel better? I try them on myself and said self throws them back at me saying, "Pucha naman, wag na tayong maglokohan."

There were quite a few nights last week when I remembered what Mac had told me, and I would honestly admit to myself that I wasn't feeling the perfection. Weirdly enough, beneath the layers of negative emotion swirling around in my head, deep inside I understood that even this was perfect.

Catherine

Somewhere, someone, sometimes thinks of you... and more

2011-10-23T02:49:00.000-07:00

In that case I hope he's cute, smart, articulate and manly. Bawal ang panget at jejemon please! Ikamamatay ko yata ang thought. HAHAHA!

Catherine

Last hurrah tryst before trying the knot. Would you? Did you?

2011-10-16T09:30:00.000-07:00

I was listening to Boys Night Out on 89.9 about a month ago and they were holding a survey: Last hurrah before tying the knot. Did you? Would you?

Obviously hooking up with an ex/whoever while you're engaged constitutes as cheating. But it doesn't interest me to talk about the moral and carnal aspects of the issue because we already know that. What bothered me was what that kind of behavior implied about how these men viewed their upcoming marriage. I mean, if you feel the dire need to gasp for your last breath before you are dragged down to the bottom of the ocean, you should be at least a little worried about what you are about to commit yourself to.

The thing is, everything is a commitment. Marriage is just more apparent than all the other things we tie ourselves down to. If you think about it, drinking and dancing the night away with your friends at Resorts World is a commitment. Why? Because the time you spend with them is time you don't get to spend with other people, in other places, doing other things. Everything is a commitment in the sense that once we make a choice, it eliminates all the other counter-possibilities.

I just got an internship I wanted which requires me to spend all my Wednesday afternoons at the office and be at shoots/events. I also made up my mind to get my ass back in school, put up my own band and earn more money. Obviously all these will automatically lock down a significant number of my hours every week. But it doesn't make sense to me to flop around like a dying fish and spend the remainder of my free time indulging in debauchery. Why? Because I want to do all that and am actually looking forward to it. Why gasp for air when you don't feel like you're being pulled down to the bottom of the ocean?

I don't think it's ridiculous to fear getting married and not being able to see other people for the rest of your life. It's a logical fear. Even I am still at the age where marriage feels like a cage. I recently had a slight crush on a guy until I found out he was now on the lookout for his future wife. Napa-ubo ako sabay kamot sa leeg. Erhm. Wife!? All my fanciful thoughts about dating him immediately evaporated into thin air. They were replaced by images of domestication, home decorating, cooking family dinner, bearing children and raising them. AFRAID!

But despite how I currently feel about it, I know that it's possible for a person to want marriage and be so happy about it that he doesn't feel tied down at all.

I guess all I'm trying to say is, everything is a commitment. Choose the ones that set you free. Otherwise it isn't worth the torture.

Catherine

How I became a straight ally

2011-10-14T07:02:00.000-07:00

This entry is missing National Coming Out Day by a few because I wasn't planning to come out with one in the first place. I consider myself a straight ally but I don't really write about diversity and the rainbow because in my world all these things are already a given. It could be just me, but in the social circles I belong to, to talk about equality, acceptance and appreciation feels elementary because we all get it already. We have long moved on to the next phase of friendship called having a good time.

But then again it still remains that outside our world of understanding, there is still much marginalization and misconception to be dealt with. I probably just don't feel it because I'm not part of the LGBT community, myself.

I used to not believe in the legitimacy of the LGBT movement. I was raised in a conservative, Bible-believing Christian environment. I wasn't aware of where exactly it was written in the Bible that gay relationships were unlawful, though. It was my gay professor who pointed it out later in college --in Leviticus, right next to verses that prohibited men from shaving their faces, eating seafood, planting two kinds of crops in the same field, and mixing two kinds of fabric in the same garment.

I used to honestly believe that gay people were lost, immoral souls who direly needed to be saved. Finding myself on the other side of that belief was a slow process. Out of my 22 years of existence, it took 19 years more or less for me to change my mind completely. As with everything else in my current belief system, it started with making observations and asking a lot of questions. I had always been very curious and inquisitive, even as a child.

I remember one of the things that really bugged me was how the preferences of the LGBT seemed to have just as much conviction as mine did. I was sure I liked men. No one could force me to like women if they wanted me to. And if the tables were turned and I had to like women to be normal, I would be really pissed. I liked men, period. I noticed that the attraction of the LGBT seemed to have the same period. Of course since I believed that being gay was wrong, I started asking myself how I could possibly flip them back to the preference they ought to have --except I was never able to figure anything out because I couldn't imagine flipping myself.

At the Pride March, December 2009

It was a long process, going from one seemingly insignificant question to another. I also made a lot of gay friends since I never saw our then difference in beliefs to be a hindrance to making a connection. The person responsible for giving me and many others an in-depth education on all things LGBT was Sir Manalastas, my Soc Sci 3 (Gender and Sexuality) professor. I know all the issues like the back of my hand because of him and offend a lot less people because he also tackled a lot of misconceptions. But he wouldn't have been able to educate me if I wasn't willing to listen. Something else set the stage for Prof. Manalastas' brilliant influence; something much less deliberate.

Two years before meeting Sir Manalastas, I had a lesbian professor, Ma'am Eloi who had a partner, Ma'am Grace. They've been together for eight years now and counting. I don't remember her ever bringing up LGBT issues in class. She had a set curriculum for our Art Studies 2 subject and she faithfully stuck to it the entire semester. But she was open about her personal life and would bring Ma'am Grace along during class field trips. I also added Ma'am Eloi on Facebook, Twitter and (then) Multiply, enabling me to see status messages, anniversary pictures and photos of Ma'am Grace's homemade cakes, pies and cookies on my feed. And like all the other students she had added, I was familiar with "UY Day." It's what they call the day they first met because the Tagalog expression "Uy!" was somehow involved.

There was nothing grand or earth shattering to notice about them, really. It was random things like chancing on the two of them driving along the Academic Oval; Ma'am Eloi enthusiastically waving at me, Ma'am Grace in the passenger's seat and their white, furry dog (not sure if it was Poli or Dumbo) panting happily in the back seat. It was the hundreds of kids they mothered together. Obviously they couldn't have any of their own, so they adopted the UP Pep Squad along with a good number of other college students in UP (figuratively, of course). The two of them were on full-time mommy duties during the duration of this year's Samsung Cheerdance Competition. It was when Ma'am Grace was hospitalized and Ma'am Eloi was her worried but loyal bantay. It was how they never stopped being thankful for what they had and never forgot that they were blessed.

Little, non-showy things like that. They obviously made each other happy and took good care of each other. Naturally the next line of reasoning was: If what they were doing was wrong, then the right thing to do would be to split them up. I then proceeded to think of what that would possibly achieve:

1) They would cry.
2) ... Acutally, I think that's pretty much it.

At the 2010 UP Lantern Parade

Photo by Sean Tiu

As much as acknowledging the LGBT was a thought process, what really won me over wasn't the arguments, the glittery drags or even the demand for equal rights. What won me over was people building beautiful lives for themselves and their loved ones. And of the many things I was capable of being irreverent in the face of, I had no doubt in my mind that this was sacred.

Catherine

Stalker!

2011-10-14T05:25:00.000-07:00

It is no mystery that social networking has made "researching" and checking up on people conveniently anonymous. No need to hire a private investigator or spend the night in your car right outside your target's window (not that you should).

And then of course there's Google. I Google myself every now and then. At first it was out of vanity, and the only things that popped up were my articles and re-posts of my articles. But lately Google seems to have turned into a public record of sorts. Not that I mind its being public as I'm pretty used to posting publicly on the internet with very few exceptions. But what I found alarming was all the information about me that the site was able to pull that I didn't think it would touch. Some of it was reminiscent of my past selves whom, once I've grown out of, I don't appreciate being reminded of. And of course someone else looking me up wouldn't know the difference. I deleted my Formspring just now, HAHA.

If you're not already doing it, I suggest you also Google yourselves regularly for good measure. Enclose your name in quotation marks for a more effective search. It's just to make sure that there is nothing out there that you don't want future employers or *shudder* your crush to be stumbling upon.

In the age of the internet, I roll my eyes at people who squeal "Stalker!" whenever they find out someone's been checking them out online like they've been done an offense. They label the other person "creepy" as if they themselves have never looked anyone up on Facebook. And if it happens to be a government agency, or some other organization searching Facebook for non-personal reasons, they feel like a line has been crossed. It reminds me of a conversation between two of my friends while we were walking around a mall.

Friend 1 (looking at a poster of Alfred Vargas promoting a certain brand of jockey): Mmm... your cousin has a nice ass.
Friend 2: Why are you checking out my cousin's ass!?
Friend 1: What? It's there to check out!

Ops! Wholesome po tayo dito. This blog will not be responsible for leading you into temptation. Author assumes you can find it for yourself.

In my opinion, if it's done in public it's fair game. Expect people to see it, even those whom you are not aware of. It's all a matter of being responsible for your privacy settings and for what you put up (even private content can be leaked through copy-paste, though, so beware). For example, you have access to this blog. That means that I don't mind you reading and dropping by as often as you like. There is nothing creepy about you being here and I have no right to complain about it. You being here does not make you a stalker by my definition. You're just checking out what I have made available for anyone to check out.

I think most of the people who like to squeal "Stalker!" just do so to flatter themselves. Either that or tatanga-tanga lang talaga sila.

Catherine

On the 30 Day Blogging Challenge

2011-10-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

I realize that I never properly announced it here. But yes, for the next 30 days (actually I'm already down to 20), I will be posting everyday. And if I miss one day, I can make up for it the next day by writing a maximum of two entries. So far the score is 5 entries in 10 days. I'm aiming for a score no lower than 23/30.

Now I am aware that I don't have to do this. And no, I wouldn't say that I feel pressured, but I'm not taking it for granted either. It also takes a level of commitment. I've been writing for seven years now, but it hasn't gotten easy. And setting aside the time of day is another factor, especially since there are so many other worthy distractions.

But I noticed that since I started this challenge, a lot has changed. Weirdly enough, I get more done in a day. I guess being committed and productive in one area translates to everything else. Suddenly I'm better at scheduling and handling all the other things that need my attention.

Secondly, my drive is back. I remember being in a seminar not so long ago, and the seminar leader asked us, "Vitality is a function of?"

"Coffee," my underslept self answered without thinking. I realized I wasn't the only one who heard myself when the whole room suddenly burst into laughter. "Oh shoot, sorry. I was kidding," I apologized sheepishly.

The seminar leader laughed and smiled, "Vitality is a function of participation."

Ten days since I started this challenge I now see her point --not as a mere concept, but something real and on the ground.

Lastly, I guess what I love the most about doing this, and my main reason for keeping it up, is that it made me realize how interested I really am in the world. I've always known myself as the no-reaction type of girl, interested in very few, specialized things and not really giving a damn about much else. I think the word "snob" is somewhat apt. But doing this I realized I have a lot to say about a lot of things after all. I pay more attention. I notice my environment more vividly. I hear my thoughts more clearly. I feel more alive.

I always thought that 30 day blog challenges were cheesy nonsense, and most of the people I knew who attempted slacked off almost immediately anyway, so it never occurred to me as something worth anyone's time. But apparently if taken seriously it has a lot of payoffs. It may not have the potential to forward one's career as a writer, but I feel like I'm investing in myself. And if you ask me, these are the most important investments one must make.

Catherine

Pretty Girl Problems

2011-10-11T08:04:00.000-07:00

So there's this annoying article on Thought Catalog entitled What It's Like To Be A Pretty Girl. Complaining about your privileges on the world wide web is one of the surest forms of social suicide. The negative comments just keep rolling in. I feel sorry for the author already. As a writer, I tend to come up with bitchy retorts quite naturally, but the woman is already going through a significant amount of beating on the internet. So instead I shall give my thoughts on pieces of her article, just in case any of you are experiencing the same "problems."

People expect you to be an idiot, and when it turns out you have brains too, they tend to get freaked out. Prepare to get passed over for jobs with female hiring managers, and prepare for a string of jobs working for pervy male managers who gave you the job because they could see down your dress during the interview.

I know a lot of gorgeous women whose intellect and abilities I never even thought of questioning. I didn't freak out at my attractive friends, "OMG, you're smart pala!?" I somehow knew they were brainy the moment I met them. If you're certain and at ease with the knowledge that you're smart, people will sense it right off the bat and know exactly how to regard you. And if there is indeed a little surprise there, it will quickly disappear into thin air as the other person kicks himself into gear in order to be able to level with you.

I mentioned in a previous entry that knowing you're a beautiful woman ought to be an effortless consciousness. It's the same with brains. And you know you're sure of your opinions about yourself when you can afford to forget about them. At the risk of sounding mayabang, I will share a little from my own experiences. People tell me I'm smart even when I happen to be talking about the most mundane things. I also don't mind being a ditz sometimes. In fact, I tend to broadcast my own mishaps because I think they're funny and laughing is just so much more fun when I'm doing it with other people.

The ironic thing about being sure you're smart is that you can be as stupid as you want to be, because you know it's not going to change a thing (of course there is such a thing as being responsible). You're free to make mistakes, laugh, learn, ask questions and just have a good time all the time. And yes, you're free to be pretty (I mean, why the hell not?). If you find yourself constantly having to prove things to all these "biased" people, then you probably don't buy it either.

You will also inevitably start to lean on your good looks in sticky situations, which will make you wholly unprepared to deal with the occasional hardass that doesn’t fall for pseudo-meaningful eye contact and flirty smiles.

This only poses a problem if you have no other cards to play. See previous answer.

Move to a bad neighborhood, and you better get a bodyguard or a boyfriend because the prison bodies down the street WILL say something inappropriate to you every chance they get.

Ok, this one I get. Cat calls are disrespectful, disturbing and grating on the ears. I actually envy my ballsy friend, Ria. She's a beautiful, feminine make-up artist who also happens to have the ability to literally knock a person down. She punched a jejemon once for lecherously eyeing her and saying, "Ang sarap mo!" as she was walking by. The poor twerp fell to the ground from the impact, looked up at his deceptively sassy attacker with his now saucer-sized eyes and hurriedly scurried away. Buti nga sa'yo, panget.

Unfortunately I don't have knuckles of steel and I was told that giving them the finger will only excite them more. So I just ignore them like all the other girls do. I have also developed the automatic instinct to look away from nearby jejemons. Eye contact is a welcome opening. I also know not to look up when a nearby vehicle (usually a truck) is beeping and there is obviously no traffic. And recently I have also grown a knowing and resigned expectation of cat calls to come. I'm not completely aware of the physical manifestations on my face and body, but the attitude of my reactions to the cat calls of late can be summed up in the line, "Yes, yes, I know. Carry on." This seems to shut them up a lot faster.

Nevertheless, receiving cat calls is not a problem of epic proportions. It doesn't deserve to be the bane of your pretty-girl existence. These are uneducated men who don't know any better. There really are bigger issues to be consumed about.

And once you get to work, you will be forced to play nice when men try to hold your hand over the counter and give you “business cards” that are very clearly just a phone number written on the back of a Rite-Aid receipt.

People know when you're the kind of person who will or will not take shit. Honestly, this sounds like the kind of thing that happens regularly to girls who think lowly of themselves. Granted that it may happen to a good quality woman as well, but she would know to promptly shun such vibes from her life and be politely unapologetic about it.

On the flip side, you’ll get so used to this kind of attention that you’ll feel a misplaced sense of disappointment when you fail to attract catcalls from construction workers and garden-variety weirdos.

Misplaced indeed.

You won’t have many girlfriends; that much should be obvious.

You don't have to be ugly or average to have friends of the same sex. If you automatically think that most girls are beneath you and want to compete with you, they will sense this and naturally not want to have anything to do with you. Honestly, neither will I. I have a lot of gorgeous girl friends. We also look out for each other and build each other up. It takes a level of security and self-assurance to be able to be somebody else's friend. You need to be able to get over yourself. And as for those fake, competitive backstabbing weirdos who do exist, just don't hang out with them. It's that simple.

And when you start dating someone, you’ll have to get rid of all your non-gay guy friends because your boo factor will assume they all want to date/fuck you (which, to some extent, is probably true).

Why are you wasting your time on a man who can't accept the basic fact that he's not the only man on the planet and in your life? Dump the baby. And as for the statement in parentheses, sige lang. Assume lang ng assume.

Nice guys will never, ever hit on you (presumably because they’re intimidated), but you will have more undateables flirting with you than you even thought existed. When you go out, you always end up getting too messed up due to a combination of accepting too many free drinks from losers and drinking by yourself in the corner while your friends meet nice, college-educated guys with jobs. You take home a lot of gross guys out of boredom and loneliness.

We women actually have the option to dump/ignore the men who don't deserve us, yes? It's a given that in this life, we will encounter not-so-good quality men trying to get with us. But we are under no obligation to tolerate the company of people we don't want. Personally, I find it a lot easier to use the "block number" option on my phone and promptly forget about it rather than taking the losers home *shudder* and consequently whining about them on the net.

Also, good quality men won't take interest in you if you don't think you deserve them. Somehow reading through the article, I felt like the author devalued pretty much all the other non-physical aspects of herself.

As much as her article was a huge eye roller, I feel sad for her. I couldn't shake the feeling that she had to be extra proud of her looks to compensate for everything else. I don't think she thinks she's worthwhile.

Catherine

Man rape is real and it happens a lot

2011-10-11T07:08:00.000-07:00

Unlike the feminists and most gender experts, I don't bemoan patriarchy. I don't think it's perfect, but I like how it is in the 21st century. I get to fluctuate between strength and vulnerability, independence and having people take care of me, and the list of options goes on. And while it's true that there are some old-fashioned perceptions in place that I don't believe in (wives, submit to your husbands at all times), I don't bother trying to convince people against them. I just seek out people who already agree with my ideas. Finding birds of the same feather is a lot less stressful than debating people. I don't waste time on those I have to convince. There is simply too much fun to be had.

I think this is a beautiful time to be a woman and I've been enjoying it immensely. There are so many things that I enjoy that would probably be non-existent in a world of perfect equality. I also wouldn't want to be a guy and have to be tough and manly all the time. I imagine that would be tiring. A gender professor of mine did mention that men have their own set of problems brought about by patriarchy, which eventually have them dying sooner than women and taking up most of the pie when it comes to murder victims. And he did have a very good point. I didn't take it too seriously, though. I simply concluded that under any system in place, both genders would have issues to deal with. But this one was different.

The rape of men

Of all the consequences brought about by patriarchy, I have to say this is the most shocking and heartbreaking issue I have ever come across. What struck me the most about the article wasn't the act of rape itself. Rather, it was the fact that women rape victims easily get the help they need, while the men are left to die inside.

According to the article, even well-known organizations who offer humanitarian aid won't even admit that these things happen. And quite frankly I don't understand why. I don't think patriarchy or taboo is a sufficient excuse to deny so many people of the help they direly need. I understand why the victims and perpetrators would like to keep this a secret. I understand the great impact it may take on the victims' immediate family. But what about the people who are in the position to help them? What about the organizations whose primary reason for existing is to help? It escapes me why they would turn away so many and even go as far as withdrawing funds and trying to silence such reports. It's one thing to directly cause the trauma to a person's life. No need to underline the gravity of that. But leaving a person to die inside is almost just as cold, cruel and inhumane.

Catherine

Laughing through "No Other Woman" (with spoilers) and how to be a true bitch

2011-10-09T07:08:00.000-07:00

I watched No Other Woman with Jewel and Ria yesterday. It's a different experience to watch a movie with a make-up artist and a fashion enthusiast. So much side commentary on the clothes, the complexion, the shoes, the hair, the body, etc. Pati ako napa-lait kay Cristine Reyes. Her stylist was either really bad or really good at making her look bad (if that was the point, since boring, nouveau rich housewife ang role niya).

Also, you know that annoying group of people who laugh their heads off during a drama flick? That's us. We don't do it intentionally. In fact, sooner or later we notice and start to wonder, "Bakit parang tayo lang yung tumatawa? Are all these people seriously feeling it?" I mean, how could we not laugh at Anne Curtis' exaggeratedly contorted crying face when Derek Ramsay ran into a truck? She broke into a retarded, over-acting "HUWAAAAAAAH!" which automatically triggered all three of us to burst into "HUWAHAHAHAHA!" simultaneously. (Aside: I'm not an Anne Curtis hater. I think she's hot, just not in that particular scene)

And how could we not laugh when Cristine Reyes tried to seduce her husband back by stepping out in a shapeless (maternity?) nightie?

"I don't like her hair!" Ria laughed at the sight of Cristine's 1800's lola bun, complete with soft, curled tendrils.

I also recall snickering at the scene where Cristine was making crochets while waiting for her husband. Talagang tinodo ang boring housewife role eh no? Nag-gaganchillo pa talaga, HAHAHA!

The movie played right into cliched stereotypes, from the characters to the plot. The wife was plain and hardly enticing, even in a bikini (the color scheme was purposely off, I think), the mistress was smoldering, liberated and knew how to play the game (except she fell too fast and too easily, which I think was inconsistent with her character), and the husband had his brain in his pants; and of course, the juicy exchanges of taray lines between both women which, if they happened in real life, would be really weird and cheap and unbecoming for women of their social status. So if you're looking for brilliant twists and new, inspiring insights, don't bother. In fact, I'm sure you can correctly guess the ending -- safe and pleasing to the psyche of the average Pinay. We didn't really mind, though. We showed up expecting cheap entertainment (not enrichment), like comfort food. It ain't necessarily good for you, but it satisfies your inner kababuyan.

Nevertheless, I think there are two lessons that we can learn from the movie:

1) Don't be overly confident in your ability to have fun with "no emotional attachment." Sure, it happens. There are times when you're the one who breezes through the dating scene, enjoying the attention and consequently forgetting pretty much everybody while they significantly remember you for reasons even you don't understand. But keep in mind that you're still human, and sooner or later your humanity will rear its ugly head. Personally I don't buy it when people put on an image of being detached from their emotions. I'm convinced that anyone who denies an undeniable part of being human has issues, fears and past wounds they are running away from. They won't admit it, probably not even to themselves, but they know it. Putting up defenses and strongholds only happens when there is vulnerability.

Ladies and gentlemen, the result of long-term self-denial.

I think it's also possible to suffer in silence and poise for the rest of your life, but that ain't fun either.

2) Don't blame the mistress.

It's your responsibility to a) choose a good quality mate and b) be the complete package --the sexiest, most interesting, intoxicating woman your man can have. That goes for the men too. The empowerment and awareness of the 21st century woman gives her so many other options. But if you want to slack off, grow into a complacent blob and take her for granted, sige lang. Ikaw bahala. Just make sure you don't go into an indignant male ego trip by the time you are granted the consequences of your actions.

Goodness of heart is important, but remember that the most virtuous of us usually end up in the convent, married to God. That quality alone wasn't designed to sustain a loving, romantic, erotic relationship with another person. And while it's true that it's still possible to be cheated on even after consistently fulfilling your role, at least you would find peace in the knowledge that you weren't at fault. You will go through the natural process of grief and eventually brush it off, knowing fully well that it was his loss. But if you're anything like Cristine Reyes' character... I'm sorry, but I really couldn't find it in me to empathize with her. I imagine any guy, if given the choice, would go for Anne in a heartbeat. There wouldn't even be a story about infidelity because no man in his right mind would hook up with a snooze-fest of a girl in the first place.

What not to learn from the film?

I only wish that the viewers of this movie are smart enough not to buy into the concept of taray wars = fighting for your love. We often think that the woman who can spit out the most acidic lines in a catfight is the better bitch. I disagree. A true bitch who knows what she's doing doesn't engage in catfights because she nips it in the bud with her presence and her overall person (I recall reading from Sun Tzu's The Art of War that the best generals aren't well known because under their rule, the wars never happened). A true bitch doesn't demean herself by being a paranoid, insecure, belligerent wretch. She keeps a man with the ease and certainty of a queen. And if any man has the audacity to make her feel like she has to compete with anyone, she will cut him off in a simple and clean manner because she knows that is not what she is entitled to.

Catherine

Cate de Leon's unexpected encounter with a haunted place

2011-10-04T01:11:00.000-07:00

It was five in the afternoon. After making my last appointment for the day Il Terrazo Mall, I decided to walk home instead of hailing a cab. Anyway my house was near enough and the weather was fine and breezy. I surveyed my possible routes and decided to walk along Timog instead of Morato because it was less busy. I don't really go around my area of the city since all my friends usually prefer to hang out elsewhere. Most people are surprised to find out that I'm not aware of what establishments are around and where they are exactly, especially since I'm five minutes away from strips of restaurants, coffee/milk tea shops and bars. One would think that I would take advantage of my location regularly.

As I was nearing the building that prominently marked the corner of my street, immediately to my right I was greeted by a silent, pitch black, burnt down fascade with nothing but ruins behind its walls. There were a few streaks of spray paint, framed photos of young people and offerings of flowers. It was eerily quiet and deserted. Even the tambays on the sidewalk weren't hanging out here. Everybody was at least two buildings away.

The Ozone Disco burned down in 1996, taking more than 150 lives, mostly high school and college students celebrating their graduation. Approved for only 35 residents, the club then had 40 employees and 350-400 guests signed in that night. Most of the victims' bodies were found burnt up lining the exit. The tragedy happened when I was seven-years-old. I knew the building was in the area, but I didn't know exactly where. Well, now I do and will obviously never forget. And if ever I do have to pass by in the future, I'll make sure to walk on the other side of the street. Unexpectedly finding myself three feet away from the ghostly ruins was really freaky. I didn't even know yet for a fact that it was Ozone, I just KNEW.

It's unnerving that the building has remained untouched for more than a decade. The people who are regularly nearby say that they hear faint disco music in the wee hours of the morning and see whitish figures floating as if they were dancing. Ghost hunters who have ventured into the place claimed to hear agonized shrieking and consequently ran out. Spirit experts also say that while they have convinced a number of souls to move on to the other realm where they are supposed to be, some choose to remain out of worry for their loved ones who are still grieving and haven't moved on themselves.

As soon as I realized where I was (it took a split second, really), I quickly turned my head and hastened my steps. Mahirap na. Baka if I show interest...

Catherine

p.s. This is part of a 30-day blog challenge that started yesterday. My writing skills are rusty and I intend to practice constantly. I am now on Day 2.

p.p.s. Don't worry, I don't intend to talk about creepy things (e.g. zombies, ghosts) for the rest of the stretch. This entry and the last are mere coincidences. Will move on to the lighter side of the world.

p.p.p.s I usually prefer to Google for pictures to include in my entries. Didn't do it for this one, baka kung ano makita ko. Kayo na lang mag-Google kung gusto niyo, haha!

On zombies and The Walking Dead

2011-10-02T20:11:00.000-07:00

It seems the latest issue of The Walking Dead (#89) hasn't been uploaded yet. I'm getting a bit antsy since it's October already and it's one of the first things I look forward to at the start of each month. I haven't caught the series on TV, but I was told the plot moves rather slowly. Like, one of the first characters to die in the comics is still alive on TV (seriously, a whole season and he's still breathing?). I also accidentally spoiled it for a friend who preferred to watch. "Have you gotten to the part where... I found it really disturbing." Her eyes flared up at me as she told me she hasn't.

I don't normally geek out over comic books. My knowledge of superheroes is limited to the Justice League cartoons on TV and occasionally, mass produced movies. I just happen to be into zombies. I like them because they give you a good scare without haunting you afterward. I think it's because so far zombies haven't been proven to exist, so there's no reason to get paranoid about an apocalypse ever happening in real life (God, I hope not).

Horror stories, as we all know, are a different matter entirely. I can't even brush my teeth properly after watching one because I fear that when I bend over to spit into the sink and straighten up again, there will be someone else grinning back at me in the mirror. If an inanimate object, like a painting, randomly falls to the floor suddenly it MEANS SOMETHING. My friend Cel told me that during the time that The Ring was showing, she came downstairs one morning to find that someone had covered the TV with a blanket (probably one of her brothers). Another friend played Sandi Patti Gospel music all night long to counter relentless visions of Sadako crawling at him from nowhere. Ayoko ng ganyang drama, pwede ba!? Yung tipong magpapasama ka pa sa banyo.

Hence the zombies. I can scream to my heart's content without consequence; without any of the horrifying scenes embedding themselves into my consciousness.

The Walking Dead has a particularly good plot. I have to admit that most zombie movies have a predictable trend. Virus breaks out, whole city gets infected, team of survivors, team of survivors grows smaller, starting with the stupid ones, kill a few infected loved ones, government eventually gets situation under control, etc.

As my friend Sean put it, in The Walking Dead you start to wonder who is worse --the zombies or the survivors? I think that's what sets TWD apart from other zombie stories, where you don't even remember the characters because it was all about the sea of zombies. In TWD, all the particularly dark, inhumane and disturbing scenes are brought about by the living. It zooms in on humanity and the different states it can morph into when survival is the main priority. There is a constant struggle with morals and justification. Even children learn to kill --some with sufficient cause, others merely because it seems so normal already --like watching your mother put on her make-up and later trying it on. There is a need to group together and organize, and at the same time paranoia and power struggle. And the characters, they're far from the disposable figures featured in most zombie movies. No. Here you don't forget their faces. This story is about them. The zombie-filled world is just a backdrop.

You can check out the series here (you'll need to download a comic book reader/CBR). I warn you, it is highly addictive. The plot hikes up really fast. The twists are shocking, in some cases jarring. I always found myself having to download the next one and the next and the next to find out what happened afterward. I think I finished volumes 1-87 in 3 days, more or less. I'm actually glad that I'm now down to one volume a month. I don't end up burning a huge portion of my days anymore.

Also, if you find it before I do, let me know if #89 is already out there and send me the link :)

Catherine

On Lady Gaga's "You and I"

2011-09-23T06:14:00.000-07:00

I first heard this on the radio on the way to Makati this morning (super late, I know). I never would have guessed that it was Lady Gaga. Lauryn Hill, maybe. Country music is probably the last thing I would ever have associated with the woman of avant-garde pop. Just the thought of it, hindi bagay! But this song is a beauty, and I have to say she pulled it off really, really well. I love the lyrics too. I'm a sucker for stripped down honesty and authentic angst. Nothing cliched or overly dramatic and poetic. Just something you can relate to and see yourself in, even if you're not in the position being described, weirdly enough. You know that given the appropriate situation and emotions, you'd be singing the exact same lines.

The video is creepy, weird and downright disturbing in some scenes, but you knew to expect that. Nevertheless, my respect for Lady Gaga shot through the roof for this one. One word. Conviction. She doesn't half-ass her performance, not even for a second. She conceptualizes her art and devotes her entire being to pulling it off. It's so apparent in her demeanor. She literally becomes her ideas. I don't even see the need to agree or disagree with her weirdness (like having sex as a mermaid without genitalia). Eh yun ang gusto niyang gawin eh, paki ko ba? Haha! I look up to her for actually doing it --in the face of constant, worldwide jeering and criticism too.

And Lady Gaga as a guy? Best. Performance. Ever. She can give many men a run for their balls and masculinity (just saying, haha!). She makes a hot guy too, eh? Actually di ko type ang mga rugged, maton, pawisin at medyo on the jologs end of the spectrum. But she managed to infuse this one with character, x-factor and sex appeal. If my personal taste were to be consulted, pwede siyang pumasa bilang fling. HAHA!

Catherine

On Shamcey Supsup and being healthily biased

2011-09-20T04:11:00.000-07:00

I originally disagreed with Shamcey Supsup's controversial answer to her Miss Universe question. I even linked this article to my Twitter and FB, saying how I especially liked their deconstructed analysis of Supsup's answer and why it didn't fly with the judges.

To summarize the article, the bigger bulk of her answer was great. Her confidence and conviction about where she stood in matters of faith and religion were very promising. It was her last line, "And if that person loves me, he should love my God too," that conveyed the inability to honestly appreciate the convictions of other people and work with differences. To accommodate what she said, the man in the picture should either already be of the same religion or, shudder, convert. Of course on a personal level nobody gets to dictate how you choose your lifetime partner. But on Miss Universe, there is an expectation to have a wide-open attitude to the world's diversity.

In hindsight, I realized it was a completely biased expectation in itself. Paki ba ng mundo kung ang gusto mo talagang mapangasawa e yung ka-uri mo? As far as lovers and spouses are concerned, I think we all have every right to cling fast to our preferences and beliefs about how the other person should be.

I used to think I was better than people like Shamcey, since I consider myself to be a liberal thinker. I am so above all that "Thou shalt not be equally yoked with an unbeliever" shiz. I believe in universality and that people make themselves who they are, not their religion. A friend's family once raised hell over her boyfriend being from another religion. I was the confidante who absorbed her emotions and rolled my eyes at all the unnecessary drama people were putting her through.

Another friend who was looking to set me up asked me what religion my ideal guy would be. I answered that it didn't matter to me, as long as the guy didn't have any issues about how his girlfriend should be. "I actually don't mind going to mass, or service or whatever in case that's what he likes. I'm secure enough about my faith to be interested in other people's views. But it should be clear to him that I'm not required to be there. I can drop in and drop out as I please."

I told her I was looking for someone open-minded. He doesn't have to agree with me, but he must be interested in what I have to say, and he must simply let me be. I promise to do the same for him. It won't be hard. It would be great if he asked a lot of questions about everything, because I myself am always asking a lot of questions. I think that's why my faith has gone from one end to the other and is still not set. I like asking questions and consequently discovering new things and changing with what I discover. Final conclusions (i.e. stagnation) are boring.

So I looked down on Shamcey for a while --this poor conservative girl who can't even consider being with someone who's not Christian. How shallow. How self-limiting. But then I realized that the only guys who had a real chance of flying with me were liberal thinkers. It may not be a religion, but it's a mindset that not all people have, and it definitely entails some views on religion and faith.

Shamcey expressed that she absolutely believes in a certain God, so she's looking for someone with whom she can grow in that faith. That's what's important to her. I place a very high value in having the freedom to explore and be whoever I choose to be at any given moment, so I'm looking for someone like that too. Someone like me.

Shamcey and I obviously have different priorities, but we both have ultimatums that include and exclude other people. I think it's enough evidence that all the conservative men who have made attempts, I dumped off the bat with the efficiency of a factory machine. For example, I do not understand the struggles of people who are burdened with the saying, "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." My philosophy on that is, "Habang tao ka, maging tao ka. The hell are you trying to fight your flesh for? Weirdo."

There are many other wisecracks that automatically fire off in my head about conservative people that I won't get into. My point is, I can't claim to have a wide open, welcoming stance toward the world's diversity in the face of that. And the fact is, there are people whose beliefs really are grounded on exclusivity. You don't have to agree with them, but they're part of all this diversity too. Thinking that they ought to open up and believe in universality means you don't accept them for who they are. You're the one who's not respecting and letting them be.

So Shamcey and I we're very different, but we're both happily biased. And for standing for her biases all the way (pati ba naman desisyon sa pag-aasawa pinakialaman ng Miss U!?), I say the woman rocks.

Catherine

To a good week :)

2011-09-19T02:38:00.000-07:00

Last week wasn't a very good one for me and a few other people. A friend spent it crying her eyes and lungs out. I spent a huge bulk of it wrapped up in the comforts of cynicism (dry, calloused crying). Strangely enough, the photo below from Postsecret made things a lot lighter for me. So I'm sending this one out to anyone else who might need it.

The illusion that we are alone and isolated in our pain tends to make things a lot worse and so much heavier. Here's a little reminder that no matter how intensely we ache, said illusion never actually takes place.

Here's to a beautiful, productive week. Clarity and love, guys :)

Catherine

That's what friends are for sarcasm

2011-09-03T13:21:00.000-07:00

My friend Raphie and I were waiting for Cel by the escalator when two guys and a girl came riding up. They greeted each other since they were all from Xavier HS. A few moments later Raphie said:

"Oh, my friend just texted me. You're pretty daw."

"Who friend?" I asked.

"The one who just came up."

"Aww, thanks!"

"I wonder what I should reply," he thought. "Hmmm... Your friend is pretty too! You wanna trade?"

"Walang hiya ka!"

Catherine

And the skin whitening obsession continues

2011-08-31T06:05:00.000-07:00

"Who is the fairest of them all?"

I caught Olay's commercial while eating lunch this noon. Apparently they were having a beauty contest and had narrowed the contestants down to eight finalists. Their tagline was to be taken literally, as "fairest" pertained to skin tone. The girls took turns saying "I'm the fairest!" "No, I'm the fairest!"

"Eew, are they actually having a skin whitening contest?" I found it distasteful. Beauty contests are shallow and degrading enough, at least in my opinion. I didn't think things could get any worse. But no. One must always trust that there is no limit to the ideas people can come up with, good or jologs-wise.

Don't worry. I'm not going to go into the whole colonial mentality argument about this. I get it. I'm a lady, and when I'm asking you what dress I should wear, what shoes to buy, how to lose weight and tone up, what to do with my hair/skin and what color to paint my nails, I do not want you to answer me with political terms and theories, most especially not the ones that have to do with nationalism.

I'm writing this as a woman --a woman who takes her personal aesthetics seriously and doesn't mind being objectified (by the right people). I take the time to learn and employ certain tricks, like how to follow the way the light falls on my face when putting on make-up; subtle things that make a huge difference in one's appearance. But the core foundation of being a beautiful woman is knowing you are one. Everything else is just maintenance/enhancement for what is already there.

And that's why I find the obsession with skin whitening so distasteful. In a tropical country located just above the equator, populated predominantly by exotic, sun-kissed morenas, the idea involves a lot of striving. It involves a genetically impossible goal and you have to get there to be good enough. A beautiful woman doesn't struggle for her beauty. It is not a pursuit she has to embark on and hope to arrive at someday. She just has it and she has it now. And through time she simply grows and evolves with it.

That's my personal paradigm when it comes to beauty. It is an effortless consciousness, like knowing that there's air all around you. You don't have to convince yourself, shove it in other people's faces, or even talk or think about it. You just know it's there and you can afford to forget about it as you eat your meals, talk to people and go through your daily tasks. All the truly beautiful women I know have that grace in common.

Whenever I think about our skin whitening obsession, my mind is filled with pitiful images of hopeful morenas rubbing away religiously so that if they ever figure in a photoshoot, the crew won't have to use the lights. "So white! Wala munang ilaw!" (that commercial was ridiculous, by the way; just in case you need the education, lighting is very important in photography, regardless of the model's skin tone). Not sexy.

I consider myself a snob against the whole skin whitening craze. I like to think that the educated, empowered and enlightened Filipina of the 21st century knows how to work what she has. She will coyly flaunt her complexion (shoulders, perhaps?) whether bronze, milky, golden, olive or somewhere in between. No trying or wishful thinking involved. She just is the shit and she knows it.

Catherine

Cate de Leon stumbles into CrossFit

2011-08-19T04:52:00.000-07:00

My fitness buff and trainer friend, Mel invited me to join her CrossFit Yoga classes every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday morning. It's a new class that they're still trialing and tailoring, so it's free til the end of August.

When I told my yoga buff friend, Chuck what I was getting into he said, "Are you sure, Cat? Have you seen the videos of CrossFit on Youtube? Alam mo ba yang pinapasukan mo? It's extremely intense ha!" I told him Mel said I could do it. I didn't bother looking it up on Youtube. I prefer to experience everything at least once without being weighed down by preconceived notions. I'm a "get there and see for myself" type of girl.

By the end of the 15-minute CrossFit workout, I could no longer see as well. I was dizzy, my body overwhelmed by the sudden rush of heat, intensity, exhaustion and blood. My sight was blacking out slightly and there was a tiny urge to throw up. I'm used to working out for an hour or more, but 15 minutes of CrossFit trumped all my past exercise experiences by a long, long shot. Here's what I did:

1) The ball toss

Source

My trainer, RJ, picked up a ball and demonstrated the movement. You squat low with the ball in your hands, then jump up, using the power of your hips to thrust the ball upwards. Your arms must do no more than follow through. And as you catch the ball on it's way down, you go back to squatting position, absorbing the ball with your hips.

"Your target is to hit the red band on the wall," he told me. "But for women, it's okay if you hit just the bottom of the band."

I immediately thought, "Why is this sexist creep doubting my ability to throw a rubber ball?" Buti na lang I kept my mouth shut. I bent down to pick it up and realized:

"Oh... it's heavy pala. Kala ko parang beach ball lang." (from the ease with which he was tossing it, it sure seemed like one)

"It's 10-11 pounds," RJ said.

"Oh... so it's like a bowling ball, only softer."

After several attempts, my right hamstring started screaming bloody murder.

2) Band pull-ups

Actually, people who are used to doing CrossFit do pull-ups without the assistance of any device. But they correctly anticipated that beginners wouldn't be able to do the same, so they provided elastic bands which you step on, making it much easier to pull your weight up.

Source

I had trouble fighting the band's elasticity with my weight to bring myself down, though. You're supposed to lift yourself up and get your feet flat back onto the platform each time. I ended up "hanging around." So they had me do basic body rows instead for the meantime.

Source

I only did the first two photos. I found it easy --a relief in the middle of everything else they were making me do.

3) Box jump

Source

I think the photo is self-explanatory. You stand on the floor and jump onto the center of the box. You then straighten up and jump/step back down.

My box wasn't as high as the one in the photo. Originally they gave me something that was more or less the height of my knees. Scary pa rin! When it was my turn, I was just staring at it. You know how they say "What the mind can conceive, the body can achieve?" I couldn't even conceive it. All I could think of was coming short, tripping over the box, it's edges digging deep into my legs/guts and falling flat on my face. "Ayoko talaga, baka ma-disgrasya ako." They replaced it with a shorter box and I agreed to do it.

Still I must say it was the scariest exercise I tried that morning. There was no room to squeal like a little girl and make "Oh my God, kaya ko ba to?" inarte. If you don't want to fall over and end up in a painful accident, you make sure you make it. 100% commitment and will power every single time.

Source

4) Burpees

Source

Lower to a squat with your hands on the floor, kick your legs out to plank position, gradually bring the rest of your body down to the floor, starting with your knees and lower legs. Bring yourself up starting with your core/abdominal muscles, get back to squat position, get your heels flat on the ground and jump up. Then you get down and do it all again. After several repetitions of this, I could feel my arms shaking.

One full set consists of 7 ball tosses, 7 pull ups, 7 box jumps and 7 burpees done consecutively. The goal is to do as many sets as you can in the 15 minutes you are given ~~from hell~~. I was starting to wonder if the fitness gods were punishing me for all the years I spent as a couch potato.

After doing my first set, I was more than spent. My entire body was throbbing with exhaustion and dehydration. I looked at the timer. 13 minutes more to go! ~~Sana pala binagalan ko.~~ I looked to Mel, begging for mercy as she and RJ pushed me to use up my time.

"Go! Second set!" went RJ.

"I need a break. I need water," I said, gasping for breath.

"Okay, 30 seconds. The clock is ticking."

"Aww Cat, you hate me," Mel looked guilty.

"Yes. I am unfriending you on Facebook."

All in all, for my first attempt at CrossFit I did three full sets. I had two minutes more after the last one and my trainer was pushing me to at least do another ball toss, but I literally felt that I might throw up if I continued. I collapsed against the wall afterwards, my head throbbing and saliva thickening the way it does when I'm about to barf.

After I had (somewhat) recovered, we did yoga.

I noticed my body stayed warm the rest of the day, like my muscles continued to generate heat way after I walked out of the gym. Predictably I struggled to get out of bed the next day. You know that chart we had in our grade school classrooms that showed the human body's musculatory system? I couldn't stop thinking about it the following morning. I was suddenly aware of all my muscle groups because of the pain emanating from them. That's how I found out that even my butt had muscles. Pain.

There was really a time when I was swearing never to come back, while I was dripping with sweat, every muscle in my body aching and trembling, sweaty hair plastered on my face and my world spinning. But now I can't wait to show up tomorrow morning and do it all again. I'll probably regret it all again while I'm at it. But there's this strange motivation that's bugging me. I want to know how it feels to do all that and find it to be a piece of cake, and probably move on to harder stuff. I want to develop a level of strength, grace and intensity that I never even imagined my lampa, couch potato self could ever have. Mel also assured me that I won't turn into a body builder --just toned, deceptively lithe, and strong (she explained that the muscular females often shown in CrossFit videos had a prior history of weight lifting and steroids).

I've also had thoughts that maybe this isn't for me. I'm a mellow, laid back kind of person. Intensity is hardly ever incorporated into my daily tasks (if at all). Originally I was looking for yoga classes --just yoga. But then again, who am I to make conclusions at the age of 22? Death is the only conclusion, and I'm always free to change my mind anyway. All I know right now is, in CrossFit I suddenly have this urge to really push myself and challenge my limits. In my easy-going world, it is an unfamiliar feeling, and I welcome it with open arms.

Mel also said CrossFit is one of the fastest ways to tone up. Perfect beach body, here I come!

Catherine

Cate de Leon has a fan!

2011-08-19T01:42:00.000-07:00

I was walking by myself along the Academic Oval at UP when I saw a group of foreigners walking the opposite direction. At the end of the group, a slightly chinky-eyed girl started calling to me.

"Excuse me!" she said.

I immediately thought she must be one of those Korean missionaries who try to share the Gospel with you and bring you to their church. I run into a lot of them around the Oval. I was about to tell her I was busy/in a hurry when she asked:

"Excuse me, are you Cate de Leon?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied, a bit surprised.

"Oh my God, I'm a fan! I read everything! Writer_cat, and Super, I mean 2bU!" she said breathlessly. "Oh my God! I'm so starstruck! May I shake your hand!?"

"Sure!" I said, extending my hand.

I asked what her name was and if she was studying here. It turns out she was in her second year of Journalism at the UP College of Masscommunication.

"Wow, good job!" I said, remembering how I wanted to be in the same course.

In the spur of the moment, I gave her a hug. We exchanged thank you's and nice to meet you's. "Keep on writing!" she said, as she ran to catch up with her friends who had walked on ahead.

I haven't been writing lately. It's not that I fell out of love with it or that it was hard work (I mean, I'd always known that). It was because I didn't feel it was worth it. I didn't feel appreciated and I really thought no one was listening. I was tired of people ignoring me and my work and of trying to get it right. So whenever I would start to drum up something, it was so much easier to get distracted and occupy myself with things that didn't require as much effort.

Meeting her made me realize that I had an impact on the world after all. I also realized that I had been selling out on myself and on everything I was capable of contributing to the world. Here was this girl who believed in me like anything while I was too resigned to carry my own ass.

It's strange. Our conversation was touch and go and didn't last five minutes, but I have so much renewed strength and vitality because of it. I'm excited to pound away on my laptop again and continually give my writing the shots it deserves (instead of the half-hearted "might not make a difference anyway" attempts I've been making lately). I'm ready to just do what I love, do it well and be of service to people.

So thank you, from the bottom of my heart --for being brave enough to approach a stranger and unabashedly express your appreciation. You may not be aware of it, but you gave me something huge, the effects of which will carry on inside me for a very long time :)

Love,
Catherine

Cate de Leon's self-rehab from Facebok addiction

2011-07-13T20:26:00.000-07:00

I personally have nothing against vices, but I have promised myself that I will never get into the habit of smoking, even though most of the people I hang out with do. Why? 1) It's gross. And I know it takes a few sticks to get used to it, but I don't want to get used to something that gross. Para akong lumunok ng tambucho! More importantly 2) because everyone I know who wants to quit can't quit. I swear, they're schizo. They make me promise to not let them touch their cigarettes, and then later on are begging me to grant them permission (they also try stealth and asking other people for cigarettes; may "cheat-sticks" pang nalalaman; I swear friends, ka-stress kayo! May I resign as your accountability buddy?). They'll be clean for a certain period of time, and then get into it again, and then have to quit all over again. It never ends!

I want to be in control of my vices rather than having it the other way around. Drinking, I can quit anytime I want to with no withdrawal whatsoever. But everytime I'm tempted to get into smoking, I simply remind myself of how none of my friends can get out of it.

That's basically why I decided to get off Facebook. It has turned out to be my virtual cigarette habit. I'm giving it one week at the very least for my first attempt. This is for all the time I can't help wasting and am not even aware that I'm wasting while at it. And all that I've been missing out on as a result.

And I don't know. I seem to have grown tired of it as well. All the showing off and attention getting it entails, to put it bluntly. There was a time when I was genuinely excited to post new profile photos, albums of my latest escapades, links to music and articles I found interesting, and my favorite, status messages of whatever witty thought I had on my mind, and waiting for other people to like and comment. Suddenly I just don't find it that exciting anymore. Suddenly self-promotion tastes so bland, maybe because I came to realize that it doesn't really have that huge of an impact when done for its own sake --in a sea of people who are doing the exact same thing.

As pretentious as it may sound, I suddenly just want to spend my time getting real about the actual state of my life (without Facebook "popularity points" to blow up my self-image) and doing work that matters, that expands into more than just the image I project to 630 friends and perhaps a few harmless stalkers in between.

I also want to minimize virtual interactions that never amount to anything, like cyber stalking in place of getting to know the person in the flesh, and Facebook flirting (please lang). I also grow weary of sharing so much about myself virtually. Ugh. Get to know me in person na lang! (not that there was a demand for my virtual sharing)

And oh, I love how I was able to write this entry without checking back to Facebook every few minutes to read all the updates! This just might do wonders for my writing career, as writing takes focus and Facebook takes away so much of that.

I'm not gonna be gone forever. I do plan to come back. Not because I miss it (surprisingly, other than the involuntary craving for a habit, I don't), but because I cannot deny the power that social networking yields. It makes it that much easier to communicate and share the work I've been up to. I imagine it would be a huge loss for me, whose work is all about publishing and the promotion of ideas to stay off Facebook forever.

So yes, I'll be back once I've cured myself of this addiction that I've grown tired of (am just waiting for my subconscious to follow suit). And when I do come back, I intend to have a lot more control and an entirely different context for being on Facebook :)

Catherine

I love you. What does that have to do with you?

2011-07-07T08:55:00.000-07:00

Sorry to disappoint, but this isn't a public confession (and neither am I making parinig to anyone in particular, haha!). Yes kailangang may disclaimer.

I lifted the title off my friend Giulia's Twitter, but I'm pretty sure I've heard it before. I thought it sounded proud and stand-offish at first. I didn't think my friend was that kind of person, though, so I read it again and realized it made perfect sense. It makes you the only source of the love you give to people --not their agreeableness, their mindsets, their mood, their hotness (although this helps; joke lang), what kind of day they happen to be having, the state of your relationship (or even the absence of one), or perhaps even the fact that they happen to be family. None of that matters, along with whatever other reasons you can come up with.

If we get technical about the language, in the phrase "I love you," "I" is the only one acting on the verb "love." "You" is completely passive and is doing absolutely nothing. "I" is the one who carries the whole sentence.

The more popular view is that we love a person for a reason. And while most of us would deny this, "falling in love" is a reason. "Love is a wild force that just took me" is a reason. "It's a give and take relationship" is a reason. "You are my child" or "You are family" is a reason. "You are different from all the other people I've met" is a reason. "You are my soul mate" is a reason. Even "I believe it is my purpose to love" is a reason. Anything that can be preceded by the word "because" is a reason. Sometimes we even use God as a reason.

That's not to say that there's anything wrong with reasons. They're perfectly valid. And at the same time I don't think they're the source of the love. Some people are given those very same reasons and they don't end up loving. For example, some mothers kill their own children or sell them into prostitution. Try telling me "I think you are my soul mate," and I will give you my whole (500) Days of Summer there is no such thing as soul mates philosophy. If you suddenly found out that your child/parent wasn't your real child/parent, I bet you would still care and would never actually stop. Even using God as a reason is something I consider irresponsible. He gave you a brain, a heart and a will, didn't He? Own up.

If reasons were absolute, they would work all the time and for all people. But even the seemingly most fundamental of reasons to love, like the bond a mother and a child supposedly have, fail. So where is all the love coming from?

It comes from us (sobrang cheesy!). But seriously, love is a uniquely human phenomenon (or perhaps an animal phenomenon, but I'm not interested in stretching it that far for this discussion). Like if you wiped all the people off the face of the earth, love as we know it would disappear too. Brought down to an individual level, if you suddenly ceased to exist, all the love you are giving to the people in your life would be gone as well. They might have memories and different ways of "holding on" to it, but there would be no love coming from where you used to be.

To love is something only we humans can do. There is nothing external that causes it. Each and every time we love, we are the only source of it. And that is why some people can have all the reasons to love and they don't, and some have all the reasons not to and they do. It's really just you. You are the beginning and the end of the love that you give. The people in your life have nothing to do with it. And that is why everytime we feel extremely loved by others, we tend to say that we don't deserve it. Other people love us because they do. Deep inside we know we had nothing to do with it.

In my opinion, "I love you. What does that have to do with you?" is the most owned up way to love. It's unconditional and it's liberating. Suddenly all your reasons, all the imperfections, all your unmet expectations, all your should be's, the fear, the pain, the uncertainty, the tainted past, who you know yourself to be, your differences, whether or not you have the "right" conditions, whether or not you see eye to eye, whether or not the person has been fair, all the unresolved arguments, the fact that you've grown distant, and even your failure to justify why you still love a person doesn't mean shit. Suddenly it's so simple.

When you're the source, you don't have to explain things, not even to yourself. You don't even have to wait for things to get better to be able to love better. You love someone. What does anyone or anything else in the world have to do with that?

Catherine

Profile #2: Puck, the walking orgasm

2011-06-26T02:49:00.000-07:00

One of the factors I overlooked when I came up with the idea of writing about people was whether or not they were willing to be written about. This next subject was reluctant and agreed under the terms that I don't use his real name or include any photos. Ok fine. I shall hide him under the pseudonym, Puck Puckerman. Yes, that hunk from Glee.

Haha! He happens to look like him too! (at the very least they have similar auras)

The first time I laid eyes on Puck was in first year college. He was good looking, fit, oozing with appeal and had an aura of sophistication and intelligence. I hopelessly crushed on him from afar.

Fast forward a few years, I was at this three day seminar in Makati. I happened to look to the back of the room and saw him sitting there by himself. Suddenly the circumstances seemed so much more encouraging! He happened to sit beside me after one of the breaks and asked if I was eating dinner with anyone. I told him I wasn't, to which he replied that we should eat dinner together. He never hid the fact that he sought out my company. He would wait for me to walk out of the wash room and say, "I want to sit with you." Ah, it just kept getting better and better.

And then Puck told me he was gay. They say when you meet a hot gay guy, who also happens to be the perfect gentleman who takes very good care of you, you have two choices: 1) be generous; be happy for all the gay dudes who have a Puck Puckerman on their market, or 2) be selfish. What has the gay community done to deserve a Puck Puckerman!?

I choose to be selfish. To this day, my girl friends and I have been trying to convince him to "straighten out" his hotness for our benefit, to no avail. He remains passionately in love with his boyfriend and the primal world of gay sex.

People often mistake Puck to be my boyfriend, because we hang out a lot and he's not the feminine kind of gay. He's hunky, deep voiced and he likes to wear sports jackets. And as this article (item #6) says about the kind of friendship gay men share with women, we're close in an "intense and amazing way," made possible by the impossibility of sex.

Remember George from My Bestfriend's Wedding?

I always correct those mistaken about us by saying, "I am not his girlfriend. I'm his guhfriend! (that's 'girlfriend' with fag hag intonation). And whenever Puck rolls his eyes at me for not keeping the mystery alive, I simply tell him, "I don't want people to think I'm unavailable."

I once openly admitted to a room full of people that I am actually choosy with the company I keep. Puck later told me that he was exactly the same. While I do not know what his exact standards are, here are three of my best guesses.

To be good friends with Puck, one must be beautiful, have full blown self-confidence, and an unfaltering love for self.

These are the entry level requirements to the kingdom of Puck, I think. Puck doesn't have friends who are ugly, feel ugly and confess to be ugly. Please. Beauty and the knowledge that you have it are essential to his being and all who seek to be blessed with the grace of his friendship. With most other people and in most social cases, modesty is an unspoken but heavily imposed rule. For example, if one is attractive and knows she is attractive, she must pretend to be absolutely clueless of her beauty and appeal. You know how we sigh admiringly about certain girls, "Parang hindi niya talaga alam na maganda siya no?"

I can imagine Puck saying, "Fuck that!" He is the kind of person who is beautiful, is conscious of it, and expects the world to stare. Being with him is a refreshing break from the world of imposed modesty, because he encourages you to do the same just by being himself. I don't have to pretend to be more humble than I really am whenever I'm with him. And it's not like Mean Girls where one constantly has to put up a front and silently suffer in killer heels. With Puck, beauty comes with ease. It's not something we have to strive to achieve. It's not even something we have to talk about. We just sit there, discussing whatever we happen to be discussing, and know in the background that it's there. I have a lot of gorgeous girl friends, but I have to say, I feel the most beautiful and fabulous whenever I am with Puck.

And because beauty is a given, we can talk about our insecurities and defeats and not have them threaten any of the good stuff. I remember struggling to talk to Puck about a guy I dated. "I know it's pathetic to still be sad about it, or to even be sad about it at all..." I began.

"Cat," Puck cut me mid-sentence. "I don't judge."

To have the freedom to just be sad when you're sad, without all the unnecessary pretenses and justifications for being sad --Puck is one of the few people I know who provides that. That night, I felt like I had just loosened and gotten rid of a very tight belt around my waist. He simplified my drama by just letting it be whatever it was without changing his opinion of me. Puck is the epitome of how beauty can coexist with one's humanity.

Secondly, to be friends with Puck, one must be at home with vulgarity.

Case in point, being friends with Puck will prove to be a challenge if your religious and spiritual views lead you to believe that lust is a sin (in which case you might want to constantly douse him with holy water or "bring him back to the Lord"). Also, if you have delicate sensibilities, it might not sit well with you that he interjects various sexual images into every conversation (every sentence?) that you have. Even people who consider themselves at home with their sexuality find themselves having to get used to Puck. I personally appreciate it, though. We all have vulgar thoughts, which we are forced to supress in our sanitized, Catholic culture, especially if you're female. Which is why Puck's vulgarity, while I can't imagine ever measuring up to it, is like a ticket to freedom. I can blurt out whatever the hell I want about love and sex in his presence --stuff I would never write here, no doubt, as it might cause a sudden wave of judgment or prayer for the salvation of my soul. I can trust Puck to do neither (and to not suddenly want to sleep with me). With him, vulgarity is an expression and a divine celebration of full human authenticity.

Lastly, to be friends with Puck, one must be brave.

Out of his committment that we both fulfill all our dreams and loves, Puck is the kind of friend who kicks me off a cliff when I don't want to face my fears. I swear, they guy should have come with a warning sign. He gives me ultimatums, threatens to take action if I won't, and blows up my phone and Facebook chat with reminders to send him my resume and sample articles NOW so he can forward them to his editor friends. And unlike most people who "understand" me whenever I'm being weak and cowering in self-consciousness and the fear of being evaluated, Puck doesn't take any of my shit. He is ruthlessly compassionate. It has come to a point where if I chicken out on a particular goal that I know is important to me, or fail to chat up a guy I've had my eye on, the first thought that comes to mind is, "Oh my God, lagot ako kay Puck Puckerman! He's gonna kill me!"

Actually, even without forcing me into anything, Puck inspires bravery just by being himself. The way he can go through all the rockiness and bloody pain of love and in the end look at his guy with a full heart. In his own words, "Ready if I get hurt, ready if I fall harder. Sarap pala when you've played your last ace and there's nothing left to do but enjoy, appreciate and marvel at the rest of the game. Ang gaan, ang linaw. Endless love. No boundaries, no walls against possible breakdowns... just a clearing. His hand in mine, off to a beautiful horizon --awesome and majestic! Tara na sa kaligayahang walang hanggan!!!"

What is inspiring? If that is not bravery, then I don't know what is. With a friend like Puck, you learn to fuck all your fears and insecurities and just go for what you want. He brings life to a whole new level, and I seriously don't know what I'd do without him.

So there. I am currently struggling to end this piece with a slow descent down to a satisfying resolution, the way all conventional stories and essays must go. But with Puck it seems almost impossible. He is like a walking orgasm. Always intense, always at the peak. I have trouble associating him with toning down. Even his sleep is filled with intention --the intention for beauty the next day. So I will cut this short while we're at the top. Suffice it to say that as far as the fierceness of our friendship is concerned, I don't find it weird at all to associate Puck with the word "lover" --minus the consumation, of course.

Catherine

Profile #1: The baby brother

2011-06-19T05:40:00.000-07:00

This is Joseph with a lego dinosaur that he built. He is eight and the only brother I have left who voluntarily runs up to give me a kiss on the cheek out of the blue, and for no apparent reason. The rest of my brothers have graduated into cold teenagers who would shrivel up and die at the very idea of expressing affection for their sister. That's okay. To be honest, I would shrivel up and die too, if that happened. We have a common allergic reaction to mushiness, which Joseph hasn't picked up yet. I'm secretly hoping he doesn't. It's so refeshing to have a sweet little boy in the house who doesn't find it awkward.

I'm the one in the family who's always glued to the laptop. I hardly move my ass even when a batch of fresh doughnuts is brought home, because I figure I can always get some later. But Joseph doesn't wait. He walks up to my busy figure and hands me a doughnut with his bare hands. Now I actually prefer not to have other people's fingers all over my food, but his intentions are so pure that I can't help but smile, say "Aww, thank you," take it and eat.

I like to pinch his ears. I accidentally pinched too hard once.

Joseph: Ouch! Masakit!
Cat: It's your fault. You're so cute. Stop being cute!
Joseph: Stop being beautiful!

Mom heard and gagged.

There was one time when we had a huge fight. Yes, I fought with an eight-year-old at the age of 22. What is maturity? I think it was about him letting the dog in while there was an emergency mess going on in the house.

He was teary and unapologetic. His hurt, angry words to me were, "I will not let you kiss me anymore! You will never kiss me again!"

Ah, the threats that only cute little boys and girls can make. Of course as the eldest sibling, I ignored his squeaking and pretended not to care. But deep inside I knew I couldn't stand him staying mad at me forever and never letting me kiss his smooth, soft, plump baby cheeks ever again. To have a cute little person running around the house and never being able to kiss him. Oh the torture! Thankfully he seems to have forgotten. I still kiss him multiple times a day and intend to do so until he grows into that dreadful age where it all has to stop.

Catherine

Profiles

2011-06-16T21:07:00.000-07:00

Photo by Ily Maniano

I've always thought eulogies were beautiful. And as much as I dreaded losing loved ones, I've always dreamed of writing their eulogies. I would imagine saying this line about a particular person, painting traits in vivid detail, making people laugh and ache at the same time, and basically celebrate who that person was for me through my choice of art, words.

Then I realized how absurd my dream was. "Oh my God, Cat, why are you waiting for everyone to die?"

I figured I should stop waiting. I will kill them now! (I'm kidding. Okay, that wasn't funny) I will celebrate the lives of others while they are still here. So from now on, along with the usual content of my blog (thoughts, funny anecdotes, travels and misadventures), I will include sketches of people --from pieces of length to one liners. At times I'll be writing about one particular person, and sometimes about several. I won't be following any particular formula and am open to featuring anyone, from close loved ones to strangers who left a particular impression on me.

I've been wanting to write about a lot of people for a very long time. I used to at least wait for a special occasion, like their birthday or despedida or actually being assigned to do a feature on them, but what the hell. Waiting for the "right moment" to do things takes too much time. Appreciation shouldn't have to wait. Children understand this very well, the idea of expressing love out of the blue and for no apparent reason. We adults consider it a big deal when it happens. Kids don't even notice that there is a "deal" to it.

So there. The only purpose of this entry is to prep you guys so you don't find it weird when I start writing about all these people for no reason. I understand it isn't something many of us do randomly. Please know that unless specified, they are not dead.

And with that I shall go have lunch, bug the owner of the white island we intend to go to next weekend about our accommodations, attend to the technicalities of my university education, try to do some business, head to Landmark, and end my Friday night with a few beers and awesome (very much alive) company.

Catherine

On The Museum of Me

2011-06-02T10:09:00.000-07:00

I know pulling photos, words, links and connections from one's Facebook account hardly counts as a summarization of one's life. But it strangely felt that way while watching the short movie this application produced, with a fusion of nostalgic music and hushed crowd conversation by Takagi Masakatsu building up in the background. It felt like I was watching people watch a solemn celebration of my life, they way they do after a person has passed away. It also inspired me to keep living into good stories; the kind of stories I would like to look back on and be remembered for (kadiri, I can't believe I'm getting insights from a friggin' Facebook app!).

Then there was the portion dedicated to the friends I interacted with most on Facebook. Of course it may or may not reflect the people who are actually closest to me in life. But I liked that the exhibit wasn't solely about whoever it was about. Other people make up a huge part of who we are. I think it's the one dimension that should never be taken for granted.

Ikaw na Jayce ang may moment sa exhibit ko.

I admit to being a vain person. I expected the photos part of the exhibit to be my favorite. But it was the next part that really made me smile and warmed me up inside.

At first it was a cloud of equally sized words. I tried reading them by sentences and then realized it was a disorganized, random jumble. I recognized some of my friends' names. Then the word "HAHA" was singled out in caps lock, the way I usually type it when I find something really funny, which is pretty much all the time. The words were narrowed down. They got fewer and bigger, until the entire screen was filled with "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

A person who laughs aloud and a lot. I like that :)

Catherine

ps. If you haven't, go make one for yourself.

On contracting STD's from prostitutes

2011-05-25T09:15:00.000-07:00

I was at a press conference for a DOH event when one of the male journalists walked up to the mic and asked about the said topic.

According to him, a call girl charged 250 pesos for her services. "Wow, alam," I muttered under my breath. But the prescribed antibiotic in case of contracting a sexually transmitted disease was 2,500 pesos. So how did the DOH intend to solve this discrepancy, he asked. He also made a disclaimer that it was a friend who made him ask the question.

Dr. Anna Ma. Teresa S. De Guzman, Provincial Health Officer II in the province of Pangasinan answered:

On the issue of sexually transmitted diseases, the DOH's answer is simple. ABC. Abstinence. If you can't do that, Be faithful to one partner. If you still can't do that, Condom. Safe sex.

"Ngayon," she continued, "kung kaya mong magkasakit, dapat kaya mo ring panagutan. Hindi naman kami kasali sa kaligayahan, bakit kami kasama sa kalungkutan?"

I love it.

Catherine

I'm rooting for the RH Bill to be passed, but...

2011-05-22T14:26:00.000-07:00

Source

To be honest, I'm tired of all the debates, articles and mudslinging concerning the RH Bill. Too much talk, it's getting us nowhere. I'm a writer. Drumming up arguments is one of my many talents and pleasures. But I won't be doing that here, and I grow weary of hearing them as well no matter how brilliant and snappy they are.

You know why? Because it doesn't work. Arguments don't work on anybody. Whichever side we happen to be on, we'll all be poised to win and have the others lose. The ironic thing about arguing is that both parties are dead set from the start; it's a futile battle from the beginning. I haven't heard of anyone who has ever genuinely surrendered to or been deeply and happily convicted by an argument thrown at him. That's why there are more shouting matches than there are apologies in the world. The ego always goes first, and that's true for most, if not all people (if you're denying this about yourself, consider that it's your ego speaking; you're arguing with me right now :p ). If you want proof, try verbally antagonizing this woman. See if that gets you anywhere. See if you will live (I kid).

The thing is, I wish more people would committ themselves to the cause instead of investing their energy in making others wrong or stupid. I mean, are we really surprised that there are people opposing the bill? All movements are met with opposition. You could consider that a fact of life, I think.

So what exactly do we do now? I don't know. I'm not what you would consider a technical expert on the matter. Chances are you might know better than I do. All I'm saying is that if you were really committed to making this happen, you wouldn't waste your time on petty exchanges of shit. You would focus on what works, and in the course of your actions actively figure out what will actually get us there. I'm not saying we should stop talking. Communication is key to everything. But speaking to make something happen is completely different from speaking to kick someone's ass.

That's not to say I don't make snide remarks about other people. One of my recent entries was about how I judged a few girls' fashion sense and correctness in pitch. And the reason I indulged myself in such petty pleasures was because I had no intentions of making them look fabulous or sing better. I was really just content to laugh at them. They could go on being baduy and sintonado for all I cared, and I wasn't bothered by my lack of concern.

But if I were committed to making them drop dead gorgeous and Adele-level singers, I imagine I would have spoken, acted and interacted with them in a completely different manner. For starters, I wouldn't have made that blog entry about them for your entertainment, because if my mission were to transform them, clearly that wouldn't have worked. I would get flat with their current state, yes, but in the next moment I would have moved on. And if there were any problems, attitudes or glitches I would deal with them, if I really meant business. I wouldn't go on Facebook or my blog to openly rant about them. Imagine how counter-productive that would be, especially if they read it.

There's a world of difference between taking a stand and taking a crap. I know the former sounds a lot less entertaining. It involves full intentionality, cutting down on complaints and remarks that won't help (perhaps confining them to your beer sessions would work), choosing to be productive and to do only what is productive, and the most difficult part of all, acknowledging that we share the country with the very people we disagree with --and that we have to work with them. Anywhere we go, people will have opposing opinions. It's always been like that, and that's just what we have to deal with. I know trying to stomp all over them is fun, but that doesn't take us anywhere. What works is to really get where they're coming from and inspire them about what we're up to. Why do we want the bill passed? Be an advocate, not an activist (activism is annoying, don't you think?). In the end they may or may not agree. I'm afraid I don't have tips on brainwashing or mind control. It's out of our hands.

Or you can choose to take a crap. Nothing wrong with that. After all, you don't have to take a stand for the RH Bill to be passed, in the same way that I don't have to concern myself with transforming every baduy and sintonado girl who happens to walk by. I can wisecrack and snort at their multi-key blending while you poke fun at the mental capacity of Catholic priests. It's pointless fun, but at least we know we're having pointless fun. Not achieving anything is fine as long as we're not under the illusion that we're currently contributing to the world.

I'm not writing this to tell others what they should do. My only intention is for people to be fully aware of what they're doing and the impact that entails. And from there they can choose.

Catherine

On disturbing conversations about childbirth (don't worry, no gruesome details; I was covering my ears)

2011-05-16T03:01:00.000-07:00

I squealed at the sight of my friend, Monique's new baby, Xander. I had been waiting to see him. He was so small, with a tiny mouth that opened up into an little hole when he yawned. To be honest, I think most newborn babies are ugly. Fresh from the womb, they have yet to unwrinkle themselves and fill up with baby fat. But baby Xander was cute! I sniffed at his head and smiled. He still had that milky, newborn baby smell that I missed sniffing off my younger brothers when they were still just a few days old.
Just like that, there was another guy in the world. I wondered what kind of person baby Xander would become. What personality would he have? What things would he learn to like and dislike? What would he do? What experiences would he go through? What would he be passionate about? What would his life look like? Unlike grown adults for whom you can come up with a predictable future, based on their existing behavior and beliefs, newborn babies give you nothing to base your predictions on (outside forces aside). They're clean slates. They are the embodiment of the phrase "Anything is possible."

I tend to forget, though, that every time a new baby rolls out, I'm better off avoiding my girl friends and any mothers who might be around -especially if they're together. I was having lunch with my friend, Ianne and Tita Divine when the conversation inevitably shifted to child birth. Bloody, gory, painful, vagina-stretched-to-its-limits child birth. I swear.

"Oh my God, can we stop talking about this now?" I said, utterly grossed out.

"But we need to know these things," Ianne told me.

"Ay nako, no I don't!" I said, freaking out. Ianne had a good laugh at my expense. "I'll access such information if and when I need it. The operative word there is IF."

I don't remember the details of their gruesome conversation because when they didn't change the topic, I simply covered my ears.

We then talked about what age we wanted to marry. I told her 28 was the earliest possible age for me, and that I would push it to 30 if I could. Actually, I wasn't even sure I wanted to get married. Ianne agreed with 28, but said 30 was too late if you wanted to have a baby. Unlike me, she wanted one.

"Really? I don't. Big dreams aside, all I want is a vocation of influence, a good lifestyle and a man. That's all."

I told her I found it weird that I seemed to be missing my motherly instincts. Ever since I can remember, my girl friends have been voicing out their dreams of becoming mommies someday, and I have never been able to relate. Ianne told me that sometimes it kicks in late. She cited Cheska Garcia. Never had any motherly instincts but one day she just got them.

I used to be worried about how I seemed to be lacking this so-called aspect of being a woman. "Is there something wrong with me?" I used to wonder. But now I realize that there is nothing to fix. If it kicks in, it kicks in (shudder). If it doesn't, then I simply won't have children. I know many people won't agree with that, especially those who think a woman's main purpose in the world is to pop out babies. But people are entitled to their opinions and expectations, so I usually don't bother arguing. I just go ahead and do my thing.

There are billions of other couples out there who will gladly keep the world populated. And since I believe that a good life is subject to one's definition, I'm confident that whatever I choose to do, I'll be fine :)

Catherine

The race for the half-priced frappuccino

2011-05-05T23:05:00.000-07:00

As so many of you know, Starbucks has declared 12nn-2pm happy hour all week long. Anyone who successfully ~~perhaps breathlessly~~ busts through the doors during the said hours gets a 50% discount on their frappuccino, limited to 2 drinks per person.

My friends, Jewel, Giulia, Jayce and I usually spend our Wednesday and Friday afternoons at Starbucks to get some work done before heading on to the Landmark Education seminars we're currently enrolled/assisting in. I posted the above photo on Facebook and tagged them all, saying we had an incentive to meet up earlier to get more work done. Come Wednesday...

Jewel: I'll get there 1pm :)
Cat: I'll get there 1:30 :)
Cat's thought bubble: Might be a little late, but I can always ask Jewel to buy for me just in case I can't make it in time. And worst case there's Giulia and Jayce. I'm sure they're know to be there early.

1:30 pm

Jewel: I completely forgot about an important call I had to make! I'll get there 2pm. Bilhan mo na lang ako!
Cat: Hala! Eh 2 din ako makakarating eh! What do you want? In case you get there before I do, I want a caramel frap.
Jewel: Is Jayce already there?
Cat: I don't know. Call him. I'm not on unli right now.
*Jewel calls Jayce*
*I text Jayce and Giulia that in case they get there before I do, I want a caramel frap. Neither of them reply*

1:45 pm

Jewel: Wala pa daw si Jayce. Aabot ka ba?
Cat: Ha? Nasa Ortigas na ako, pero naglalakad lang ako. Medyo malayo siya. Hindi ko alam kung makakaabot ako. (I thought of taking a cab, pero parang katangahan na yun. Might as well get there late and pay the full price). Nasaan ka na ba?
Jewel: Paalis pa lang ng bahay (FYI, she lives all the way in Baclaran) Uh, pwedeng bilisan mo na lang maglakad?

So that's exactly what I did. I walked briskly to our preferred branch near UA&P, all the while laughing at us and at myself. Lesson learned. Ito ang nangyayari sa mga nag-aasahan.

I texted Giulia and Jayce, "Shit, this is so funny, I can't stop laughing! Hahahaha! In case umabot ako, what do you guys want?"

I did get there a couple of minutes before two o'clock and was greeted by a really, really long line. I don't know why I was even surprised. In a perfect world, I would have been the only one who had heard of the promo. I got to the counter past two, but I still availed of the discount. I figured they entertain you if you manage to get into Starbucks by 2pm. Unfortunately for Giulia and Jayce, there was a maximum order of 2 drinks per person and Jewel was the first to ask.

Overall, I would say KAKA-STRESS! Obviously rushing there doesn't have to be necessary if you employ proper time management skills (and if you're accustomed to getting up hours before lunchtime, unlike me). But it took me more than an hour since stepping into Starbucks to get my drink. The line to the cashier was long. The line to get my drinks was even longer. I didn't really mind because I happened to have the luxury of time. I didn't have to be anywhere until 6:30 that evening. But I bumped into another friend of mine who happened to work nearby. Apparently she and her colleagues took turns waiting for their drinks. Mid-conversation she looked at her watch and said she had to go. "Tatawag na lang ako ng reinforcements sa office," she said.

Not to mention there's too many people and it's too noisy. I put my huge binder on a table to save it, only to have a couple of thick-faced, thick-cheeked yuppies take over it. Insane. It defeated the whole purpose of people going to coffee shops --for that quiet atmosphere that is conducive to getting work done and having soul-baring conversations. For a while the noise and the comfort level of the Starbucks that we all knew and loved went down to that of a mall food court.

But the crowd did trickle out by 3pm, and soon enough Starbucks was back to being the snug, quiet and clear coffee shop that it was. Jewel and I finally got our coffee. Jayce finally showed up. Giulia apparently got stuck in traffic in Greenhills after picking up her Galaxy Tab and arrived an hour later.

Settled in our favorite couch seats, we got to work and later on derailed into talking about the issues we were currently dealing with (actually I think that was just me; Giulia's really good at clearing my head, so I make good whenever she's around). We had a good laugh about how Jaycee's chocofrap was labeled "Daisy." By then the chaos that ensued was a distant memory and I was just happy to have gotten a venti caramel frap for 77 pesos (in my defense, I only ordered that size because I was going to be there for a while).

So there. It's all good in the end if you have the luxury to be there for hours more after the storm is over, and if you're not high maintenance. Pero hassle pa rin. And if you're on a tight leash in terms of time, take advantage of the offer at your own risk. And bring an extra pound of patience with you.

Catherine

My (500) Days of Summer philosophy

2011-05-03T05:54:00.000-07:00

I heard (500) Days of Summer was showing the other night on Star Movies. I didn't get to catch it, but just last Friday night over beers, the conversation shifted to movies. Now usually when the topic pops up, everybody enthusiastically contributes, and when someone happens to ask my take on things, I sheepishly reply that I've never really been that much of a movie person.

But that night someone happened to ask the group, "What's the one movie that changed your life?" And without hesitation I replied, "(500) Days of Summer!"

How has it changed my life, you ask? Well, it demolished my belief in Destiny and The One. Yun lang naman. I can't believe I let a movie alter my beliefs, but I actively choose to stick by them anyway. I will never forget that moment when Tom realized that everything was completely random --even those instances that seemed to be charged with so much energy and feeling. Coincidence (and the sum of the conditions, my friend Miguel added). That's all anything was. That's why most of our days seem random and plotless. He was walking away from Autumn when he figured out that there was no destiny to take care of him ever seeing her again. Their meeting was meaningless and random and had absolutely no significance to it. So he ran back to ask her out for coffee.

It's not like I believed in destiny to the point of cancelling out free will (I never liked that version). Rather, I believed we had free will but there was a perfect destiny for us which we would achieve if we followed the right path. I chose to throw all that away shortly after watching (500) Days of Summer because I thought it was such a narrow, limiting way to experience life. There is so much potential out there, and yet there's only one way to get it right? Tragic, if you ask me.

I especially feel sad for those who honestly believe na napagdaanan na sila ng The One. I have this friend who just said yes to a suitor of hers. She told us she was sure she had met and lost her soul mate (first boyfriend) anyway, so might as well move on with the rest of her life. She was my age, too young to be living in the ruins of her "Golden Age."

I look at things differently. I don't think anyone is inherently more special than the next person. It is only out of our preferences, feelings and subjectivity that we consider one person to be more significant than all the others. In simpler terms, our attachments to people are self-created. Destiny has nothing to do with it. So while it's true that whoever I lost made me happy in a way that nobody else can, guess what? There are billions of other people out there who can make me happy in a way that no one else can. I mean, they're all beautiful and complex human beings too, not cardboard cut-outs.

A couple of years ago I remember telling somebody in a letter, "I didn't think people like you were possible." Fast forward to today, I'm not taking it back. And at the same time I realize that I didn't think my friends were possible either. All the wonderful people that I'm very thankful to have, I never predicted any them. And there are lots of other good guys out there who I don't think are possible, but are running around the planet anyway.

I think the world is teeming with mindblowing potential. You can never guess what kind of people you will be meeting next. That being said, I refuse to believe that there is only one person out there for me, one way to get it right, or to live the life of my dreams, even. There's an infinite number of possibilities and an infinite way each possibility can take place. And the way I live my life is that I just get out there, experience as much as I can, and choose what to enjoy the most. And if it doesn't work out, I do mourn. I never deny that it was special and that I wanted it to work. But even while I'm still sad, I'm aware that there is so much more to live for out there. I'm convinced that I will run out of breath before I run out good things and amazing company. And whenever loss leaves me with an empty space, I'm confident that something new is on its way to fill it up. That's physics too, I think. Conservation of mass-energy. The total of both mass and energy is retained, although some may change forms. Loss is an illusion. (O diba?)

Just to be clear, I do not believe in replacements. When people say no one can ever replace whoever they lost, or that it's not the same with all the other people they meet... eh malamang, teh! Don't expect X if you're with Y. Of course it will never be the same, so stop expecting it to be. What leaves people stuck, I think, is how they limit themselves by thinking that only X will make them happy. So when Y or any other letter comes along, they don't even see them for who they are because all they can think of is how he/she is not like X.

I think it's a pity because personally, I keep meeting the most amazing people wherever I go, and I'd love for others to see that for themselves as well. It's a view I choose to have, because I don't want to miss out on the people I happen to bump into in the present. But for this view to work, I have to give up that my life has to be a certain way for it to work out; that there's only one way for me to be the happiest I can be. I have to be clear of all my "should be's" to be able to see and appreciate what's right in front of me for everything it is and everything it's not.

It works with friends as well. I had this really tight drinking barkada for a very long time now, and just recently I looked up and realized I hadn't seen them for months. And there I was in Greenbelt, drinking with a new set of inuman buddies, as I had been for so many Friday nights now. I was shocked by how smooth the transition was that I didn't even notice. The culture, the conversations and the humor was different. It wasn't the same. But it was good. I was having so much fun and I loved these people. They were like family.

Have I forgotten my old friends? No. Do I think my new friends are better than my old barkada? No. But I'll tell you this. Whoever I'm with, that's who I'm with. I don't blow the experience by being off in my head, thinking it would be better if I were with other people. I honestly believe that anyone has all the potential to make another person happy, and that's exactly what shows up for me. I take pleasure in seeing and enjoying how unique each person is --how they all contribute in ways I haven't seen before; in ways I won't find elsewhere. It's always a matter of view, more than anything else. If you think there's just this one person who cuts the cake, and that everybody else is substandard, that's exactly what you'll get.

I don't think anybody is inherently The One. The One doesn't exist, and at the same time, anyone can be The One. And he/she will only show up that way for you if and when you say so. And until you're ready to say so (which at 22, I'm not), just enjoy the ride and be fully present to every single person you meet. And try not to have too many expectations. Expectations happen in your head. They have absolutely nothing to do with reality and what's actually out there to exploit.

I think I expressed a jumble of ideas up there, but I call all this my (500) Days of Summer philosophy. Nothing is inherently meaningful or significant (or pre-ordained, please lang). The moment I got that, I had a say on what was significant to me, what meaning I wanted to fill my life with, and how I wanted to look at people and circumstances.

Screw destiny and following your "path" and being on the look-out for your "soul-mate." There's a bigger, brighter, more expansive way to burn down your candle.

Catherine

Guilty reading pleasures: Cate de Leon's chick lit of choice

2011-05-01T03:53:00.000-07:00

I was running a few xerox, scanning and shipping errands right beside National Bookstore in Qave. When I had completed all my tasks, I decided to go inside before heading home. I just love going around to check out the books, magazines, and all the pretty notebooks (in fairness to National, they have so many to choose from now; a few years ago only Fully Booked had pretty notebooks, and they were quite pricey). There's just something so inviting about smooth, fresh off-white pages, ready to be scrawled on by a rich black gel pen.

Last but not the least, I visited the Summit Books chic lit section. Yes, you read that right. Cate de Leon reads chick lit. I picked up the second book of the Vince's Life series, read the first page and decided to buy it. I read the first book way back when I was in first year college and absolutely loved it. I finished the second book in one sitting, owing to the fact that it's less than 150 pages and it's hard to put down. I plan to read the last one as well.

Source

Vince's Life is an autobiography of a regular guy who hides behind the pseudonym, Vince O. Teves. True to chick lit format, the story revolves around friendship, career, humor and love. The first book is about Vince's college life, while the background for the second book (don't judge by the cheesy cover) is his career at the country's top advertizing agency. The third one I haven't gone through, but I read it's about bumping into his first love again and the possibility of him marrying her.

Okay, I cannot believe I just typed that. I sound like a pathetic, pink and fluffy cheesefest. Yun naman talaga ang sinabi eh, haha! But moving on...

It's actually very hard for me to appreciate chick lit. And I think one of the reasons why I like Vince's Life is because it was written by a guy. I usually CANNOT stand chick lit written by girls and other genres of romance. It's like eating too many sweets that I get diarrhea. Male writers generally have the ability to tell a good love story without all the corny, dreamy mush. A woman can very much do the same (if she has a good, steady head on her shoulders), but there is more propensity for cheese accidents to occur when the writer is a girl. I am aware that I'm totally being sexist against my own sex on this one.

Also, a good number of female authors have a tendency to come up with fake male characters. Either they were obviously born out of a woman's unrealistic fantasies, or worse, they have too much estrogen, if you know what I mean. Yes, men do fall in love and experience vulnerability, but if you notice they don't stop being men no matter how deep they fall. Many female authors do not know how to keep the masculinity of their male characters intact. They tend to come up with overly sensitive weaklings who love the female protagonist in exactly the same way her dog does (*cough*Edward Cullen*cough*). All these masculine, gym toned bodies with female brains. They tend to be too compatible with women that it's just not interesting anymore.

A good example would be Twilight. I've only read excerpts on the internet and not the actual books (because the excerpts weren't encouraging), and what I've gathered so far was that Edward Cullen was a creepy, needy stalker with no balls who fancied dunking his face into a basin of (sparkling) espasol.

My friend was once gushing to me about how Edward reacted when he read Bella's mind and found out she had kissed Jacob behind his back. He didn't get mad. He let Bella be and said something to the effect of, "I just want you to be happy."

"Aww, ang bait, bait ni Edward! Sobrang mahal niya si Bella, he just wants her to be happy," my friend sighed.

"Eew, has he no spine?" I almost retorted, except I remembered she could be very sensitive when people burst her bubble. But to this day ito lang ang masasabi ko: Some people you love, some people you use. Bow.

I was also once tagged in two images on Facebook. They were "Dear Boy" and "Dear Girl" letters, addressed to their respective future someones. If the "Dear Boy" letter produced instant goosebumps on my skin, the "Dear Girl" letter made me break out in rashes and hives. It was supposedly written by a guy, but it had lines like: "I hope you remember that I play soccer, not football," and "I know I appear tough and strong on the outside, but on the inside I'm weak, vulnerable and insecure," and "When I'm jealous, please know that it's not because I don't trust you. It's because of my own insecurities inside..."

I died a thousand painful, excruciating deaths and writhed on the floor like a dying fish.

I commented that I was certain a guy didn't write it, but a girl who was fantasizing about how she wanted a guy to write to her. True enough, that was the case. And that's why I'm wary of romance written by females. I want to read of men who are men from the inside out, not women trapped inside the bodies of men.

But I admit that it isn't easy to switch sexes in writing. I remember how I chose to breathe life into a male character for a basic Creative Writing class I took in first year college. It was probably one of the most difficult writing assignments I've had to do! The dialogue was the hardest part. It's so hard to write like a guy when I've been writing like a girl for years, and that's all I knew to do. And that's probably one of the reasons why I chose to go with creative non-fiction instead, aside from how there really is so much to tell and appreciate about the real world.

Obviously Vince had no trouble characterizing a guy because, well, he's a guy and he was writing as himself. Nevertheless it's just such a relief to be reading romance that doesn't invovle a she-man. Vince could be the sweet, sensitive and romantic type that he was and still be 100% male. He could paint an enthralling, slightly sensual picture of his lady love the way an actual man would, as opposed to a woman painting how she would want to be admired, inspired by her own vanity. The two always come off very differently.

What I like about Vince's Life is the simplicity. Hindi siya luma-lines na: "You had me at my best. She had me at my worst." It doesn't deliberately try to take your breath away. It just flows naturally, one thing leading to another, like listening to a good friend's story. All the characters are real and fleshed out, the emotions raw, but as told by a writer. Writing creative non-fiction is not as simple as typing what happened. You have to tell it like it's fiction. It's like painting a portrait or taking good pictures. You capture what's right in front of you, but you thoughtfully choose how to capture it, with much perception, angling, sensitivity and attention to detail involved. You produce and effectively present a point of view that is uniquely yours.

Vince achieves all of that. It's like simply watching his life happen, or being part of his life even, but with expert film editing that doesn't make it feel any less real. It's like meeting actual, breathing people in the light he painted them in.

Also I like how, even though much of the setting is in Greenbelt, it doesn't sound trying hard to be sophisticated and chic and snappy. Some pieces of chick lit tend to read like that, like a girl who is trying to establish to her readers that she's sosyal and that she's got the life. I didn't sense any of that in Vince's Life. That was really just his life and he was really just telling us about it.

Do read the entire series. They're not the kind of books that are meant to blow your mind, take you to a higher level, or cause you to have unrealistic (depressing) ideals for your dream love life They're the kind of books that give you a new and subtle appreciation for your own every day plot lines. It makes me want to write about my own stories.

I'd like to author a book just like Vince's. I'm wondering if I'd have it under a pseudonym as well. And I'm wondering if that would even work because people keep telling me that my writing has developed its own tone of voice; that even if my name doesn't appear anywhere, they guess just by reading along that it's me. So parang mabubulgar din ako ng mga kilala ko, haha!

Catherine

I judge you

2011-04-28T07:03:00.000-07:00

For a while it was a personal resolution of mine to stop judging people. The main reasons behind this were that it wasn't productive, and I spent a considerable amount of time being really angry and defensive against the world that when I finally found peace of mind, I just wanted to stay there and think good of all humanity. But at the end of the day the truth is that it can be fun, and I really can't help it :p

I once arrived early for an interview assignment and wandered into a nearby ukay-ukay store to kill time. A girl walked in with a friend and proceeded to look for clothes she could wear to work. She fished out this boring black 3/4 sleeve polo shirt with khaki cuffs.

Friend: O ayan, maganda!
Girl: Eh anong ibabagay ko dito?
Friend: Slacks!
Cat (under my breath): Eew.

Another instance, during a friend's birthday dinner...

Raphie: You know ever since I became a Biology major, I realized that there are so many kinds of plants pala in UP Diliman!
Cat: Eh ako, ever since I became a Music major I realized... ang dami palang sintonado!
Christian: Ang sama mo talaga, Cat de Leon!
Cat: The other day I was at EK, standing in line for more than an hour to get on the Space Shuttle. And the whole time there were these three girls behind me who were practicing blending their vocals... pero iba-iba sila ng key :-|

Notice how I'm silently judging my friend's videoke singing skills. Just kidding, Pat! :D

Mean? Perhaps. But you know you love laughing with me ;)

Catherine

My new beauty secret

2011-04-24T10:34:00.000-07:00

My friend Chuck and I wandered into a 7/11 store to buy some chips when I saw this.

Pro-beauty coffee. Why, of all the silly... Is there nothing capitalists won't come up with? Chuck and I struggled to have this photo taken because we couldn't stop laughing!

Well at least now I know what to drink before going on a date, HAHA :p

Catherine

"Indifference"

2011-04-19T04:19:00.001-07:00

Source

"Because I don't care," I gave my friend's question a straight answer.

"I get that," she took it gracefully. "And at the same time I assert that you do care. I think you care a lot. You've just been pretending that you don't. And you've been doing it so well that you've convinced even yourself."

I gave what she said some thought. "Well yes, most of the time."

"Why do you do that?" she pressed on, gently but firmly --the sort of manner that is hard to escape. She was neither offensive nor flimsy. My defenses weren't triggered, and my evasion tactics weren't going to work. She waited for my answer with patience and full intention.

I dug both my hands into my gray sweater's snug pockets and bit my lip.

"I'm scared," my voice trembled with weakness. Surprised, I quickly shut my mouth and said no more.

"I got that," she answered. And after a few seconds she continued, "You know, when you said you were scared, your features softened. You don't have to be so tough all the time. It's safe. And it's true that sometimes people won't give you what you expect, but so what? You can always choose to simply be with and accept what happens for everything it is and everything it is not."

She then mentioned the possibility of me being sweet and caring, to which I snorted and pretended to hack up an imaginary gob of phlegm.

I haven't turned into a warm, gooey ball of mushiness and so far have no intention to. But since that conversation I've noticed the years of numbness leaving me. I am more aware of my emotions and attachments now. My friend was right. I do care a lot. And with it come all the feelings that I've been trying to ward off with all the walls I've been building.

And you know what? It isn't so bad. In fact, it's liberating. It's like finally admitting to the world that if you cut me, I'll bleed. It's funny. For so long I've been trying to fix my vulnerability. But when I finally accepted that I am and always will be vulnerable, that's when it ceased to be an issue. It's pointless, really, being in denial about one's humanity. It's freeing to know I can just be happy when I'm happy and hurt when I'm hurt. Coping tactics just make one emotionally constipated.

Catherine

Cliff jumping

2011-04-11T22:38:00.000-07:00

They say music and poetry paint pictures in our heads. Whenever I listen to this song, I can't help picturing a cliff under a clear, pitch black sky lighted by billions of stars; the wind blowing my hair in all directions. I take the hand of the person next to me. We give each other one look and then jump off, feeling the air rush up past us as we plunge into it.

No, I do not have suicide fantasies. Jumping off a cliff to me represents throwing all caution to the wind, forgetting the limits we were all conditioned to believe in, facing fears head on, smiling at uncertainty, living in the now and just going for what you want.

The picture reminds me of how I want to live my everyday life. I won't bother going into a mundane disclaimer about the fine line between reason and foolishness, especially since it varies from person to person. But I will say that self-preservation is what kills us in the end, because it robs us of our chances to truly come alive. And ultimately it doesn't make sense, because we're all going to die anyway. Why build high walls around something that is sure to be taken away from you? There is no sense trying to survive when you're doomed.

I believe in playing full out and treating life like the game it is. But it isn't something I always do, for all the normal reasons human beings don't do the things they want to do, like fear, slim chances of winning, disappointments in the past and the abscence of guarantees. Perhaps the reason I fantasize about jumping off cliffs is because it isn't always real to me. Many times I stay where I am and consequently wonder why I'm not getting anywhere.

Incidentally, I've started to consider that perhaps learning from the past isn't always a good thing. We get all our constraints from past events and what we made them mean.

Every moment is brand new and is ignorant of history. I'm the only one who keeps reminding myself of it.

Catherine

Confessions of a Fil-Am

2011-03-24T11:14:00.000-07:00

Photo by Joseph Pascual

Yesterday I met a Fil-Am girl in named Lydia. She was wearing flip-flops, sporting a mowhawk and spoke English with that strong American twang that a lot of Filipinos tend to covet. It didn't occur to me to ask, but I guessed she was in her mid-twenties. Stereotypically she looked like a rebel, so I was surprised to find out that being a life coach was her profession and passion.

But what really struck me was her story of finding her way back to the Philippines. Her parents moved to the US in the 60's before she was born. As opposed to the Filipino immigrants nowadays who move to other countries out of financial necessity, her parents were part of the fleet of Filipinos who moved out at a time when it was still very easy to find jobs here. Her dad hasn't returned to the country since, and has no intention to do so. Her late mom wouldn't have visited again had Lydia not insisted that she come with her. Yes, flying to the Philippines for the first time in 1998 was Lydia's idea.

Lydia has been coming back to the Philippines out of her own initiative, ideally spending half the year here and half the year in the US. She told us that there was a lot of pain and disconnect going on in their generation of Fil-Ams. For starters, their parents never even bothered to teach them to speak Filipino. The few who did are very rare exceptions.

When we asked her to expound more on why Fil-Ams felt the pain that they did, she hesitated and warned us that it wasn't a question she could answer briefly. She also admitted that it wasn't something she could fully articulate, but mainly it was about being disconnected from their home and identity; about having neither while growing up. I was also surprised to find that she actually cared about the state of our country and its people. How one can be an engineer but work as a janitor here due to a lack of jobs.

While I usually have the sense to keep my racist opinions to myself (because really, broadcasting your discriminatory thoughts is just asking for it), I admit that I used to perceive Fil-Ams as social climbers of the cultural kind. I thought they couldn't care less about their ethnic roots and were just relieved that they weren't up to their armpits in poverty. I also thought that they were probably snooty about being Americanized --which to me is like arrogantly bragging about the gorgeous dress you're wearing, thinking yourself better than all the other girls for it... and it turns out hiniram mo lang siya sa pinsan mo, twice removed.

Colonial mentality is so strong among Filipinos that such thoughts about Fil-Ams really aren't hard to believe. Lydia admitted that there were such people, but there were also so many who were just like her.

I was born here, so I can't imagine how she feels. But I found it really interesting and amazing what she was telling me. I never thought people could yearn for a home they didn't grow up in; look for an identity that was never imparted to them; feel a oneness with people who live millions of miles away, and whose language they don't even know how to speak. Like, how did these people come to consider themselves part of something even before having actual contatct with it?

I really didn't think that was possible. And I'm still wondering, actually. How is that possible?

Meanwhile, Lydia says her late mom might have a piece of land in Baler, Aurora (her parents' hometown). She's been having a bit of trouble looking for the deed (long story), but she swears that if she finds it she will move there permanently, set up her own farm, plant kalabasa, pechay, sitaw, buy a few goats and cows, get her own milk, make her own cheese, butter and yoghurt, live in a bahay kubo and be perfectly happy. "All I'll need is a laptop and good internet connection so I can do my life coaching from there! I've always been the outdoors kind of person. I can't stand being in the city for too long."

She also hopes to have her own coconut plantation, "so that I won't have to chase the manong buko around. It's so hard to find him sometimes!"

Catherine

Bigots

2011-03-08T00:33:00.000-08:00

Postsecret.com

Just goes to show, whether you're conservative or liberal, progressive or backward, religious, spiritual or atheistic, capitalist or communist, activist or non-activist (I was about to say apathetic, but really we're not; I'm not sure what they call us), homophobic or homophobic-phobic, it's perfectly possible to be a bigot.

Interestingly enough, if bigots bother you, you most probably are one yourself in your own way. Because if you weren't one, you wouldn't feel the need to be righteous in the face of other people's righteousness.

I know because I used to be like that. Then I learned that I really didn't need other people's approval to live my life as I saw fit and believe in what I chose to believe. From then on I didn't see the point in getting mad when other people's ideologies clashed with mine, when they tried sharing their faith with me, or even when they said nasty things about me. I could literally afford to let them be while I went about my business. In fact, it took a lot more time and energy to hate them. It was being cool with it that was free.

What I appreciated the most about unlearning my bigotry was that I got to let in so many more people into my life. It's amazing how even those whose beliefs were the exact opposite of mine turned out to have so much to contribute to me. All I had to do was stop being a self-righteous ass and just allow them to do so.

Catherine

On Lady Gaga and Maria Aragon

2011-02-20T01:42:00.000-08:00

Maria Aragon singing Lady Gaga's Born This Way

Lady Gaga talks to Maria Aragon on the phone

It's refreshing to witness raw talent and watch someone just doing what she loves to do with ease and grace. I failed to count how many times I pressed the replay button. Maria is an effortlessly talented girl :)

I was a little disappointed, though, when I scrolled down and found a couple of racist comments.

"No! it's hilarious. pinoys deserve to eat shit. ROFL!"

"Lol stfu and clean my house."

I'm not going to fire back a reply to that. I honestly don't see the need to defend anything or anyone. But I do feel sad for these people as I would for anybody who finds the most negative things to say about the simplest of good things. I wish you guys happiness, yun na lang. You wouldn't bother putting other people down if you liked yourselves enough.

Watching the second video made me an even bigger fan of Lady Gaga. I don't necessarily agree with her weirdness because I don't think I need to. I deeply admire her for not taking anybody's shit whenever people criticize her, and for sticking to her music and her fashion as if nobody said anything. I think it says a lot about the kind of person she is, and her detractors can only wish they had half her guts and personal certainty.

Her conversation with Maria reminded me of how someone once told me that the truly beautiful are those who make others feel beautiful, and the truly powerful are those who empower those around them. We only become bigger people when we go beyond ourselves and make a difference in another person's life.

Kinda' makes me wish I had the chance to get to know Lady Gaga in person. From the interviews I've read about her so far, she seems like an amazing woman.

Catherine

Wanted: UP Fair stories for Inquirer's 2bU

2011-02-19T02:09:00.000-08:00

Hi guys! Once again, 2bU wants to hear from you! And since today is the last day of this year's UP Fair, tell us about what you did, what you enjoyed, what you love about it, what exactly you look forward to everytime the fair comes around, and any unforgettable experiences you may have. For example, my friend Chris loves to just go around and try out all the food, because everything is so cheap and it's all there in one place, plus there's live band music going on all the time. And he gets a yearly henna tattoo :)

Contributions are welcome whether or not you're from UP. A few sentences will do. I'll most probably pick the top 7:)

Include your name, age, course, school (and a photo of yourself just in case). E-mail them to catgdeleon@yahoo.com.

Have them in by Monday, February 21, 2011, 7pm.

Looking forward to hearing your stories :)

Cate de Leon

Why I stopped being the reklamo queen

2011-02-17T10:50:00.000-08:00

Source

I tried skimming through my old blog the other day and I couldn't stand it. For some reason I can never stomach the things I write after a certain period of time has elapsed. The one thing that struck me about my old blog entries was how negative they were. I was always ranting about something or someone. I was also being a smart ass while at it. I analyzed situations and people and meticulously cut them into pieces and emerged as the girl who knew how everything ought to be done. It was just my luck that I lived in a world filled with stupid, annoying people. As my good friend, Migs put it, "Awww... Catherine the Great forced to live with the losers. What a horrible crime society has done to you." No, my friends aren't the kind who kiss ass. They tell you when you're being an ass.

I didn't even bother reading through my old rants on my blog. Just catching a glimpse of the the title or the first few sentences made me feel tired already, and somewhat embarrassed for having wasted so much time and thought on such petty matters.

I was a completely different person back then. And the person I am now just doesn't see the point. I no longer jump at every wrong thing I see and proceed to take it apart. I think I was pretty good at it, being a writer. Taking a person's shit, analyzing it, and throwing the processed, intellectualized shit back at the person's face can be one of our special skills. But now all I can say is, "For what?"

I live a lot simpler now. First of all, I choose my problems. And my criteria for choosing is:

1) Do I care / does it really matter to me?
2) Am I going to do something about it?

If a certain issue doesn't check both items above, ay, kebs! And if people judge me for being apathetic, that doesn't check off any of the two either :P

But yeah, I don't say much unless I have an intention of working hard. And when I'm working hard, I'm usually too preoccupied to say much. It probably sounds a lot better in Tagalog, as Cel put it, "Wag mamroblema. Gawan ng paraan. Kung hindi magagawan ng paraan, wag problemahin."

Make life simple. Never over-burden yourself :)

Photo by Sean Tiu

I also realized that no matter what you choose to do, there will always, always be something to complain about. As Gids put it, happiness is never a function of exchanging your current situation for a new one. The romance and the novelty of it all will always wear off. And there will always be inconveniences and imperfections to be dealt with.

Another friend, Patrick confronted me about this. He said I had the tendency to toss things over my shoulder the moment I didn't feel like doing it, or the moment I found enough to criticize about what I was doing. I took offense at this and was really mad at him the rest of the night until a few hours after I had woken up the next day. But I realized he was right. It was suddenly crystal clear to me why I hadn't achieved anything notable in life. I never finished anything I started. And if he hadn't pointed out that blind spot to me, I was literally bound to live my life quitting on everything, utterly convinced that the problem wasn't me. I sent him a long, deep-felt thank-you text, to which he replied:

"Success! Hehe you're welcome. I'm really glad I'm making a difference in your life. Sarrraaappp ng feeling hahaha!"

I wanted to hit him on the back of the head.

But why am I saying all this? I guess you could say that despite my new found love and passion for life, and that I'm well on my way to achieving my goals, I am also starting to discover that even here there's a lot to complain about. I can say that it eats up too much of my time, that it's too much work, there are parts of it that I don't like doing, that it's not always inspiring, that it can be really tiring and stressful, that it involves challenges that I'd rather not be up to, and that sometimes all I want to do is laze around, and why can't it just happen overnight? Suddenly because of all this, I'm just a tiny bit unsure about whether this really is what I want to be doing.

But you see, anywhere I go there will always be a ton of things to complain about. It's so constant that it shouldn't even be a factor. This time I'm gonna stick it out and actively choose and love what I'm doing. Everyday I will make things happen, even when I don't feel like it.

Catherine

Single on Valentine's --and loving it :D

2011-02-16T02:57:00.000-08:00

I would never admit this before, but Valentine's Day used to make me feel like such a loser. I would even come up with fake positive "It's just a day" Valentine's entries just to mask it (I promise this isn't another one of them).

Actually, being single used to make me feel like such a loser. To put it simply, it made me feel that I wasn't good enough. I did think that I was pretty, smart and witty. But that was beside the point. I felt like I was a beautifully wrapped gift that, if opened, would turn out to have nothing inside. I had this story that at my very core I was worthless. I thought it was a decent explanation for why I was pretty, smart, and witty but single. I was so insecure about it that I would even resent it whenever I turned heads while walking down the street, especially on Valentine's. "Oh, you just think I'm pretty," I'd roll my eyes at the back of my mind, instead of simply appreciating the attention. Ang drama no?

It was a fictitious story that I believed was true, and it cost me a lot. Whenever someone showed interest in me, I'd automatically dismiss it. I'd put up a wall without even being aware of it. I didn't see the point in letting people in if they didn't see much value in me anyway, or so I thought. And whenever a guy I liked fell for another girl, I thought it made perfect sense. She was the better girl, and I hoped to someday be as deserving as she was. There was always someone better than me. And even when good friends would assure me that it wasn't true, that as a girl I had everything, I'd appreciate the comfort but I couldn't really hear what they were saying.

It was only in the past month that I realized I was suffering for something that wasn't even true. First of all those girls weren't better than me. They were great people alright, and the guys I liked did fall for them. But that didn't mean I was of less quality. We all prefer certain people over others, but in no way is that a gauge for how valuable a particular person really is. Feelings and preferences are subjective and vary from one person to another. So my insecurity was really just a stupid interpretation that I came up with and sentenced myself to. And it's also very possible that I didn't even give those guys a chance to like me because of all the walls I put up. I wasn't letting anyone in.

And about me not having anything of worth and substance at my very core, ay nako seriously, Cat. Putang inang self-inflicted drama yan. I've given it up and disappeared that myth into thin air. Of course I'm good enough, damn it!

Since then life has opened up in a whole new way for me. I used to be secretly desperate for a boyfriend to make me feel that I was someone who was worth it. But now, knowing that at any given moment I'm worth anybody's time and trouble, I'm not even looking for a guy. There is simply no void to fill. And what's funny is I'm so open to people now. It's extremely easy for me to just be myself and let people in. When someone shows interest in me and I find him interesting as well I just go along with it without secretly needing him to be mine. When you're not attached to any end results, you're really just having a good time all the time. You're just out there living your life to the fullest and taking things as they come.

Even my relationship with the girls that my interests fell for is totally different now. Some of them are my friends, you see. And now I can genuinely enjoy their company and appreciate them for the beautiful, amazing people that they are without feeling like the smaller person. In the company of gorgeous, intelligent, talented, successful, quality women, I just feel like... I belong. Chingky! HAHAHAHA! But really, they're great friends. They look out for me and support me in the games that I'm up to in life, and I do the same for them.

A few nights ago, one of the guys I used to like told me that he considered me to be one of his few true friends. Not the words I wanted to hear from him a few months ago, but if you look at it another way, he wouldn't have said that if I were really as empty as I used to think I was. It reinforced my realization that perhaps all this time, the only person who thought I was worthless was me.

Needless to say, last Monday was the first Valentine's in years that I didn't feel like crap. I walked around being beautiful, complete, inspired, and up to a hundred and one things. Singleness is not a disease. Rather, it is something to be exploited fully, wrung dry, and squeezed right down to the very last drop. There are so many things to do, so many ~~men~~ people to meet. I'll consider getting a boyfriend when it's right in front of me and staring me in the face. But for now I have a long string of trips, parties and events coming up that I would very much like to be single for ;)

I can't believe I didn't start appreciating all this sooner. I am positively in love with my life right now :)

Catherine

How not to flirt with a girl (part 2)

2011-02-12T04:26:00.000-08:00

Source

Needless to say I dropped my phone back into my bag after his "Where are you now cute?" line and just continued what I was working on. Seriously, I do not know of a sensible woman alive who wouldn't get goosebumps (the bad kind) after that.

Strike 3: He got mad at me for not replying. And we've known each other for what, one or two hours?

"Hi Catherine, please tell me if I disturb you. But I really do not like that I text you and you do not reply."

O ha? Di pa kami close pinapagalitan na ako. Kaloka. Piece of advice. When it comes to expressing annoyance, anger, and all other forms of drama, it is best to wait until you are important enough to the other person that she would actually care about your outbursts. Premature conflict is just weird.

It is also written somewhere (seriously, flirt rules make a lot of sense!) that in the case of not being replied to via text, one should maintain dignity and not make it a big deal --and it won't be. Getting all touchy/irritated about not being replied to comes across as needy and clingy and I can't help picturing someone who is in constant need of reassurance. If you really want to hear the other person's response, you can try asking if they got your message, or bring it up the next time you see each other with an easy manner. Pero please lang, no drama! There is nothing attractive about needing the other party to reply so early in the game.

I replied, "I'm at a party right now. I'm not a text person; not the kind who's always attached to my phone. And to be honest I don't appreciate being 'required' to reply unless it's really, really important."

Strike 4: "So I can't see you again?" he asked. "I thought I had found a good friend or a future girlfriend, but I guess I was wrong." By this time my guy friends were already making Dead! gestures, slitting their throats with their fingers. Before this point they were still defending him because of the "German Frank" they assumed he had (men, seriously). But after that "girlfriend" statement, they all agreed that the plane had indeed crashed.

We later moved from my friend's house to a secluded bar in Makati to bid goodbye to another friend who was flying back to China the next day.

Strike 5: He texted again, "Are you done with your party?"

Cat's thought bubble: "My goodness. Wala ka bang life?" Is it just me or is that the kind of thing losyang, abandoned housewives text their husbands whenever they're out?

And when I still didn't reply, he got mad at me again. "Giiiiizzzzzz! Four texts and still no reply!" And I still didn't reply.

Strike 6: He still calls me from time to time. I accidentally picked up one time because he was using a different number. He was like, "Do you remember me? Oh my God, you don't remember me! Oh my God! I do not understand why you Filipino women are so moody!"

Cat's thought bubble: Moody? How is that possible, eh wala nga akong pakialam sa'yo eh (I don't even care about you).

He went on, "I thought you were different. I like you because I really like your face. You look very different from other Filipino women. But I was wrong. You're just like them." The whole thing was so funny that I just started laughing. And when I did he went, "Don't laugh. Stop laughing. I'm mad." He also told me that he loved me. I told him straight that I didn't like him, but he didn't seem to listen. Thankfully he hasn't called again since.

Creepy and crazy.

I hope I don't have to explain everything that went wrong in there. If I do, do me a favor and never introduce yourself to me --ever. The moral of the story is simple: Desperation is never sexy. A man should have his own life and his own spine. And personally I'm the kind of woman who needs a lot of breathing space. I have no interest in being anyone's emotional crutch.

A friend also told me that Caucasians tend to think of Filipino women as sluts and mail order brides. And while it's perfectly possible that he was thinking this of me, I couldn't care less. I honestly don't see how a person's opinion of me and who I really am are related. And I wasn't the one begging.

The next time a desperate foreigner tries to hit on me, I swear I'm gonna pretend to not know how to speak English.

Catherine

How not to flirt with a girl part 1 (of hopefully not too many)

2011-02-07T04:15:00.000-08:00

http://definitelyfilipino.com/blog/index.php/archives/3288

I can be prone to experiencing social mishaps because of my open disposition. I like meeting new people, and it is one of my principles to never say no until I know what I'm saying no to, or unless I have a solid why not. That is, I give everybody a chance as much as I can. I really don't care if that makes me look easy. So many people are too busy trying not to be stupid --which is stupid in itself, if you ask me. I'm always out to discover whatever is available, and I can't do that with my defenses up. I purposely suspend judgment until I can get to know a person for who he really is. Most of the time it works out great. It broadens my horizons. And then there are some...

I was working at a coffee shop by myself and I noticed that one of the two Caucasian guys at the next table kept looking at me. Some time later he stood up, walked to my table and asked if he could sit across me. It took a few seconds for me to process that, but I finally said, "Uh, okay?"

The small talk was okay. He asked me if I was pure Filipina, because he said I looked different. I told him I had a tiny bit of Spanish and Chinese blood in me, but it was negligible, really. He said he liked my face. He asked me what I did, if I had a boyfriend, and so on and so forth. He said he was from Munich, and that he was half German, half American (when I was telling my guy friends this they suddenly went, "Oh! GERMAN FRANKS!" And I was like "Putang ina niyo!")

He asked for my number. I declined at first, telling him I didn't give my number to strangers. He cut the crap on me, "Are you going to give it to me? Simple yes or no?" I decided to change my mind. Anyway it was just a number. I could easily ignore any unwanted contact. And besides, my number was everywhere because of my Herbalife business. I get texts from complete strangers on a regular basis. "Fine," I told him. "But I may or may not reply." He just smiled. And with that he excused himself, exchanged "It was nice to meet you" courtesies and left with his friend, telling me he would text soon.

Strike one: The one-day rule

It is written somewhere that a guy should wait until the next day before contacting a woman he just met. Don't get me wrong. I am not a stickler for rules. I do not have a list of them in my head waiting to be checked or crossed out every time a guy makes a move. Unless I see the reason for them, I really don't care. But some of them really do make sense, like this one.

He texted me literally minutes after he left (one-minute rule ata ang alam niya). I was surprised to already be reading his messages on my phone. It struck me as too fast and overly eager. A guy friend later agreed with me. "Yeah, a guy should wait one day. Pag-isipin muna ang babae (leave the woman to think and brew about it)."

He asked what I was up to now. I told him I was working (*cough*busy*cough*) and waiting for a friend to pick me up and take me to a party.

Second strike: He replied, "Where are you now cute?"

Cat's thought bubble: Jejejejejejejejeje

Cat's second thought bubble: You left me here just minutes ago, and already you're asking where I am? Uh, I'm still here. I don't move around that fast. And it's too early for you to care about my exact whereabouts.

Regarding the word "cute": I have nothing against compliments as long as they're genuine. You pay a person a compliment for the sake of paying him/her a compliment. When guy friends tell me I'm pretty simply because they think I'm pretty and with no hidden agenda behind it, I smile, accept and appreciate it. No weirdness there. But I find it iffy when people compliment me in order to achieve something, like using it as bait in the game of flirtation. Also, attractive women almost always already know that they're attractive. So keep your admiration real with no "in order to..." Because in the case of people with healthy self-esteem, compliments have no bait value. We already feel good about ourselves, so cut the flattery and just level with us.

To be continued. It gets worse, so stay tuned...

So this is love

2011-01-22T06:25:00.000-08:00

I was randomly flipping channels late last night after everyone had gone to bed. I chanced upon the pilot episode of Tunay na Buhay, a new show on GMA 7 hosted by Rhea Santos. Consistent with the title, the show featured inspiring biographies of real people.

They were featuring three stories that night, but the one that really caught my attention was the one entitled In Sickness and In Health. It was about Wawel and Mila, living and breathing testaments to that cliched marriage vow most of us have learned to take for granted. Watch their story here:

When we fall in love with a person, a huge part of it is being enslaved by certain traits that they have, from their looks and intelligence to their personality and character. But can you imagine still loving a person if he/she ceases to be all the reasons you fell in the first place? The physical aspect is obvious. We're all bound to grow old and lose our sex appeal on our way to becoming ugly, decaying corpses. But what if your loved one loses more than that? What if he loses his mind? What if it's no longer possible to have those intellectually stimulating, humorous and soul-bearing conversations because he is no longer capable of expressing himself, or even processing the things you say? What if, like Mila, he becomes a vegetable who cannot move, and from his once colorful way of expressing himself, his communication is reduced to mere groans? What if, more than the physical aspect, you lose the person he once was? Will you go on loving him?

I guess that's why they say love knows no reason. Because love in its purest and truest form is unconditional. You love a person not because. You love him because you do. No reasons, no conditions, no explanations, no justifications, no brilliant calculations behind it. You just do. You love a person for everything he is and everything he's not. It's not easy, but it's simple.

It's also true that love entails forgetting yourself and thinking of the other. When Wawel was asked how much he loved Mila, I straightened up in my seat and waited for his answer. He teared up and failed at words for a while. You could tell that he was overwhelmed by such a question when he gestured that he really didn't know how to answer.

"I still cry." he said at last. "Mahal na mahal ko siya (I love her so much). I want her to feel that she's not a burden to me. I cry because I see her suffering so much. Mahirap (It's hard) the way she lives. And I really just hope she feels that I appreciate her very much. I try my best to take care of her. And I want her to be part of our lives for as long as... for as long as she can."

I was astounded by his last sentence. Part of me felt sorry for Wawel and wished that he be relieved of his burden so that he may go on with his life. But then he says that he wants to continue to have and take care of Mila for as she can stay. That's just out of this world.

You can also tell if a person really loves somebody by paying close attention to the language he uses. Who is he really thinking about? About whose suffering and feelings is he concerned? For whom does he cry? Even when he says he wants to continue having Mila around, he says "for as long as she can."

Most of the phrases people usually utter when they talk about love are actually self-centered (eg. "He makes me feel..." "He brought me to life..." and many other cheesy lines). I'm not saying it's wrong. On the contrary, it's perfectly fine. Humans are social beings. We're meant to make each other happy, to answer each others' needs and to help one another achieve our dreams. So we shouldn't feel guilty for enjoying it when other people contribute to us. But still it remains that love for another is when it ceases to be about you.

True love ain't easy, especially since all human beings are selfish in one way or another. And perhaps that is why we admire genuinely selfless people so much. I want to rephrase what I said earlier. Love isn't about forgetting yourself for another. I think a better way to put it would be to go beyond yourself for another. Because when we love, we break our limits and become bigger people.

Catherine

Into a Volcano: Trekking up Mt. Pinatubo

2011-01-16T05:57:00.001-08:00

*Photos and editing by Ily Maniano
*Published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer, 2bU (May 29, 2010)

As summer approached, I started dreaming of gentle waves lapping against soft, white sand under a clear, blue sky, and the perpetual taste of salt on my lips. Then my friend burst my bubble. “We're going trekking on Mt. Pinatubo!” he authoritatively announced to our college barkada. The pristine picture in my head was rudely interrupted by bleak images of lahar, boiling bodies of mud and water, volcanic rocks and the rotten-egg stench of sulfur. And to my dismay, all our other friends expressed enthusiasm about the idea. I secretly wished the trip wouldn't push through.

But it did. And on an early Sunday morning we found ourselves struggling to climb onto an army-green 4x4 jeep. The excitement hit us as we caught sight of the expanse of lahar set against a clear blue sky and the searing sun. It was the perfect setting for a desert photo shoot and we made a special request to our driver to pull over so we could get off and satisfy our vanity. My artsy friends expressed regret that we didn't lug along gowns and other killer outfits to pose in.

The scenery was amazing. There were cliffs, mountains, jagged and spiked rock formations and dead rivers that struggled to flow through the thick layer of lahar. We whooped as our ride splashed through. It felt like we were going on a Safari trip –nature all around without a sign of civilization –even our cellphones had no signal. We also drove by an aeta village. I smiled and waved at them, and they readily waved back.

The 20 minute hike up to the crater required our full concentration as we negotiated our way over rocks, boulders and through cool puddles and streams of water. Many beads of sweat later, we were finally greeted by the still, crystal blue crater lake of Mt. Pinatubo, surrounded by white peaks that looked as if they had snow (in actuality, the white stuff was lahar). “It looks like we’re in Europe!” my well-traveled friend commented as he clicked away with his camera.

We took a boat ride to the other side of the lake where there were less people and no structures or sheds –just a deserted expanse of lahar. We found shelter under a pathetic little tree to eat our packed lunch: chicken adobo, rice, red egg and tomato wrapped in banana leaves and eaten with our hands.

Of course we couldn’t resist the urge to go into the water. But it’s important to wear a life vest, especially if you don’t know how to swim. You see until now the crater lake is of undefined depth. And typical of volcano lakes, the water suddenly goes deep just two feet from the shore. My friend described her experience of walking toward the water“May sand… May sand… Ay, wala nang sand! (There’s sand… There sand… Aah! No more sand!)” *sorry, I fail at translations, haha!

Notice how the shore abruptly disappears

The water was also thick with minerals, so we couldn’t see through it when we tried dipping our heads in. All we could see was blue. And you know how at the beach your feet sink into the wet sand that the sea laps over? In Mt. Pinatubo it was unbearable to keep our feet in there for two seconds. The deeper you go into the lahar, the hotter it gets –hot enough to cook an egg, our guide said. So we ran/jumped over the wet shore as quickly as possible. Oddly enough the water was perfectly cool with just the occasional warm spots. We spent the rest of our time there breathing in the amazing scenery as we bobbed in the water. And of course we continued where we left off with our “photo shoot.”

Another friend of mine was also planning to go trekking on Mt. Pinatubo with her officemates, but they weren’t sure if they could handle such an adventure. So when she learned that I was going with my college friends, she decided to see how I’d find it and use me as a gauge. She described me to her friends, “Maarte yun. So if she says she had a good time, we can be sure we will too.” To which I replied, “Excuse you!”

But in relation to what she said, hiking up Mt. Pinatubo may not be tough as going on a full-fledged mountain-climbing trip with a tent, food and cooking supplies on your back. Nevertheless it’s the kind of trip you gear up for in hiking sandals (your feet are sure to get wet on the trek). You go to the comfort room every chance you get because there won’t always be one around. It is advisable to tie a scarf around your nose (aka the Abu Sayaff look) so as not to inhale the lahar as you drive through. You come home with a layer of minerals and lahar on your skin, your hair dry and stiff from sun exposure, your skin burnt and your muscles aching. And you can’t even sleep on the ride back because it’s too bumpy. The aetas also like to burn several patches of trees and plants on the volcano in the afternoon, so on our way down we felt like we were driving through a forest fire.

Mt. Pinatubo isn’t the kind of place you go to for relaxation, luxury and pampering. It’s the kind of trip you go on for adventure, a one-of-a-kind and worthwhile experience, for seeing sights that you don’t normally see, and to be able to brag that you’ve been to the center of an active volcano before it goes off again. One of my friends was particularly paranoid about this. What if it exploded while we were there, right smack in the middle of it, she worried. We assured her, “You know, if that happens it will already be too late to run away. Tatanggapin mo na lang. (Just accept it.)”

Catherine

2011 is the year I pay it forward

2011-01-02T02:54:00.000-08:00

I wrote this under the influence of six glasses of red wine. Hey, it was New Year's Eve baby!

Well I really don't know what to say. This time last year I was mourning 2009. I dubbed it the year of heartbreak, severed relationships and loss. I remember telling 2010 that it better be good to me, and it was.

2010 was the year I stopped being such a drama queen. Just in case you haven't noticed, I no longer post emo/negative facebook statuses and blog entries. Oh I do still have my bouts of drama, but I've learned to just talk it out with good friends. Good friends meaning people whom I know will clear my head and shift my perspective on things. I make it a point not to rant to people who will merely rant with me and agree that, "Oo nga, life sucks." Pity parties are a waste of time and emotion. I go straight to people who I know will pull me out of the hole I'm in. That's the kind of company I'm proud to keep :)

2010 was the year I learned to let loose and just immerse myself in the people around me. The saying is true. "Stop working on your issues. Get interested in another person and your issues will resolve themselves." I don't understand how it works, but I've found that falling in love with the people around me and going beyond myself never fails to make my problems go *poof!*. I'm convinced that a good bulk of our misery comes from taking ourselves and our lives too seriously.

At the marine-themed UP Lantern Parade 2010. I found a fisherman who "hooked" a pair of underwear. I couldn't resist :P

Photo by Sean Tiu

I also learned to take 100% responsibility over my life (di halata sa photos?), and as a result I've stopped blaming and criticizing other people.

2010 was the year I learned that cynicism is just fear and self-preservation masquerading as "knowing better." I've learned that vulnerability is essential to being alive. We ought to go after the things we want as if we have never been hurt before. Don't be held captive by past disappointments as if they're still happening today. They're not. Take the past out of your perceived future and put it back into your past. When you look to the future, you ought to see a blank space where anything can take place. And pain? Pain happens. There's no point trying to protect yourself from it. It's the saddest thing when people set up walls for themselves. Walls block out everything, including utter bliss. Walls rob us of our chances to truly come alive; to feel and experience life down to our bones. That's no way to live. You ought to be jumping off cliffs and feeling the wind in your hair even while you're still.

Photo by Mayie Calvero

In the wise, wise words of Katy Perry: "... so take a chance and don't ever look back. Don't ever look back."

But I guess what I'm most grateful for this 2010 are the people I got to share it with. I've learned not to take it for granted when people keep me company and seek out my company. When people voluntarily inconvenience themselves for me, sometimes even without my asking. When they continue to be gracious and go out of their way for me despite the fact that I've been such an ass (mainly family for this one). Simply put, people who love me, regardless of how much or how little. Not that I've ever lacked love. I've had it all my life, and I guess I got so used to having it that I kinda' just forgot that it was there for me.

I remember feeling depressed and thinking that life was shortchanging me. Then I realized how selfish I'd been. That I was only nice to people whenever I needed something from them. That I'd been hoarding all the good things that came my way --that I was the one who was shortchanging those around me. And then in the next moment I realized that the whole time I was thinking only of myself, I never ran out of people who were crazy enough to like me, love me, care about me, believe in me and commit themselves to me. For some reason I keep meeting the most amazing, funny, brilliant, interesting, generous and loving people wherever I go. A selfish brat like me. The whole time I was feeling sorry for myself I was actually getting so much more than what I actually deserved.

I'm done hoarding. 2011 is the year I pay it forward :)

Catherine

Cate de Leon's Thailand adventure

2010-12-11T20:52:00.000-08:00

I flew to Thailand last November 2010 with my mom and her colleagues at the UP Chemical Engineering Department. They had a conference to attend while me, Tita Melit, Monique and Tita Marilou tagged along because we had some serious shopping to do.

with Mom

Our first night there happened to be the night of their Loi Krathong festival. It's the Thai New Year, which they celebrate every first full moon of November. Everybody flocks toward a body of water to thank the River goddess. They release ornate little rafts, called Krathong, as an offering to the river, to release negative energy, and to make a wish (although I'm not sure if the latter was just our version of it).

Krathong made of colorful bread. I just wanted to bite into them.

Crocky!

"The act of floating away the candle raft is symbolic of letting go of all one's grudges, anger and defilements, so that one can start life afresh on a better foot."
Photo by Monique Dalida

You can also release hot air balloons, called Khom Loy into the sky, which I preferred to do. Wala lang, I just felt more release with something glowing and rising to the sky, as opposed to it merely floating away from me. Cy and I shared a Khom Loy, since it's impossible to manage one on your own. He even asked a security guard to help him, and in accented English the jolly guard replied, "No, no! I cannot help you!" The man had a point. It made sense that we all be responsible for our own offerings and wishes.

This is how the Khom Loy looks before it's unfolded. Basically it's paper with a ring of wax coated in oil.

Photo by Cy Bajamundi

It's a big balloon, so it's a bit of a challenge to make sure the paper doesn't catch fire.

You then wait until the air is hot enough for the balloon to rise

Photo by Monique Dalida

Here's a video of our Khom Loy flying experience (courtesy of Patrick Ramoso). There was a bit of a mishap, but in the end my heart couldn't help going "Awwww..." as our glowing Khom Loy floated away into the sky, taking with it the baggage of the past and our hopes for the future. It warmed my heart and made me feel so much lighter. I've watched this video at least five times, I think.

Cy: Minsan daw kasi, ang dreams... sumasabit.
Us (rolling our eyes): Ang cheesy mo talaga, Cy!
Cy: Cheesy talaga ako! Hindi ko natututunan ang isang lesson hangga't hindi ko siya ginagawang cheesy.

We also visited the temples and ruins in the old city of Ayutthaya.

Wat Yai Chaya Mongkol

(The Great Temple of Auspicious Victory)

We climbed the tallest prang only to find...

A Caucasian monk

What's left of the Grand Hall (Wihan Luang)

The place was full of headless Buddhas, which the Burmese beheaded during the war. Ok guys, one tempting thing you shouldn't do in Thailand is to take a picture of your head on top of a headless Buddha statue. Apparently it's disrespectful and irreverent, possibly blasphemous. I did not know this then. And the guards happened to be looking somewhere else while I was having my Cat-Buddha photos taken. Bawal pala. We later saw picture illustrations of the things one should not do at the ruins and temples. In one photo there was a huge X over a headless Buddha and where a person would be tempted to place his head. My friends kept joking, "Next time mukha mo na yung nandun, tapos may malaking X!" No, I will not be posting the photos here. I'd rather be safe and not offend anybody, especially since they seem to take their religion there a lot more seriously than we do here.

Inside a taxi cab

Photo by Joey Ocon

Headless Buddhas

The head of the sandstone Buddha image

The weather in Thailand is just as humid as it is here in Manila. Especially if you're touring in the early afternoon, nakaka-haggard ang init. Or as my friends put it, "Hag-Gardo Versoza na ako!"

But who am I kidding!? That was just 5% of our trip. We spent the rest of the time shopping, shopping, and shopping! In fact, the only reason we went on an Ayutthaya tour is "Para may culture naman ang photos natin." But seriously, the shopping! I know I am sounding like a total ditz right now, but I'm just being honest and authentic. Their stuff there is so cheap and so cute! As in you can get 8 blouses for 800 baht. And considering that the exchange rate is 1.44 pesos to 1 baht, I've come to consider the baht as a peso.

Sporting a pair of shades I bought at the Suan Lum Night Bazaar

Cy: Wow Cathy, it's so sunny!

When I first got to Bangkok I thought, I suddenly don't feel the feverish urge to shop anymore. I don't think I need more stuff. I think I've matured.

I spoke too soon. My first hour in the streets of Pratunam market and I already had several bags hanging on my arm. Para akong sinapian. Like holy shit, how did I end up with all this stuff? I burned my money so fast and so easily, I might as well have been tossing the bills to and fro as I walked down the street. Eh kasi naman, you can get a maxi dress for 120-180 baht. Shorts for 100-130 baht. Pants for 130-150 baht. Belts for 50 baht. Mahal na pag sinabing 250 baht. And if you buy more than one piece, you get it cheaper using their wholesale discount

At the end of the first day I had to get a hold of myself. I was like, "Ok Cat, wait! You still need to eat while you're here. There's also transportation expenses, and your friends might suddenly decide to go on a tour or go for a Thai massage or fish spa. Don't burn all your money!" Apparently it's a lot easier to lose control when everything around you is so cheap. You take the prices for granted until you realize you've burned a hole in your wallet without even realizing it.

So I held back on the shopping during the next few days just to make sure I didn't run out of money for food and other necessities. I waited patiently for our last day in Thailand. And that's when I went out with the sole intention of burning all my remaining bahts to the ground. It was a glorious feeling.

Just some of the stuff I bought

Even the boys were possessed. The minute they found out they could buy polos and pants for 150 baht, shoes for 199-299 baht, they went crazy as well. Even crazier than me, I think. I felt trampled on when I bumped into them holding so much stuff, while I had one little bag in my hand (it wasn't the last day yet; I was still on self-imposed abstinence).

Did I mention that the Thai vendors love to haggle?

"Is 450. Ba fo you I give you 400!"

"Oh, still too much!"

"Ok, ok, 350!"

"Oh, it's still too much! Um, thank you. Maybe next time." *walks away

"No, no, no, wait! Come back! Wacho price? Wacho price?"

"100."

"I give you 150!"

"Ok, deal!"

Meron pang, "You ah e Firipino, ey? I love Manny Pacquiao!"

In the Philippines the vendors start to get edgy when you try to bargain. But in Thailand they seem to genuinely have fun with it.

Monique told me that their English has improved since she visited Bangkok four years ago. People used to give her blank stares whenever she tried to ask them something. But now it's actually possible to get around and ask about whatever you need to know. But there are still funny instances, such as this one:

Monique (checking out make-up brushes): How much?

Vendor: Is 250.

Monique: It's so soft! What kind of fiber did you use for this?

Vendor: Is fo yo face.

Monique: Ah okay, thank you.

Photo by Cy Bajamundi

And then another time we were asking for directions to Patpong, Bangkok's red light district. This funny lady in the street eagerly helped us.

Funny lady: Jas turn left der, and den anodah left, and den wok wok wok wok wok wok (she said this while making animated walking actions with her feet). 30 wok. And den yo der.

Cy: Oh, so it's a 30-minute walk?

Funny lady: No, no, no. 30 wok. Jas 30 wok.

So we understood that it would probably take us 30 steps to get there. Pero my God. Para kaming naglakad mula UP Diliman hanggang SM North!

And oh, the funniest thing happened at Patpong. So we were walking through bars where you could peer in and see girls dancing in bikinis (ho hum, if you ask me; but I bet you had to go inside to see the more exciting stuff). There were men walking up to us with a menu of sexy dances and all other forms of entertainment. And then all of a sudden we saw... NaRaYa!

Basically it's this brand of fabric hand bags that my friends are crazy about. I'm not as rabid about it as they are, but I have to admit they have a lot of cute stuff. I bought three bags myself.

Mom bought this to fit in all the clothes I hoarded

And it just so happened that that branch happened to be their outlet store. They were selling their stuff at 20-40% off. Needless to say, my girl friends went crazy and spent the rest of the night loading up on bags, wallets, pouches and what have you. And the boys. The poor boys who came to see some flesh sat down in a corner looking utterly defeated. I couldn't stop laughing.

But there you go. Ask me about Bangkok and the first thing that comes to my mind is the shopping. I think that's all we remember. Walang araw na dumaan na hindi kami nag-shopping. And while we were touring the ruins and temples, one particular site charged a 50 baht entry fee. And we were all like, "Ang mahal! Ang mahal!" "One-third na yan ng isang polo!"

When you start getting stingy about a 50-baht cultural fee after spending thousands on shopping, you know something's wrong. But God I wish I lived there. It was like being in a candy shop. I would probably never have to repeat any of my clothes. I would probably also be perpetually broke.

Catherine

The Perfect Stranger

2010-12-05T06:47:00.000-08:00

From Postsecret.com

I struggled to roll my luggage on the uneven sidewalk, cursing about how our hotel shuttle dropped us off one block shy of the train station. Couldn't have driven us all the way? Then there was the public train ride to the airport. Commuting with luggage isn't fun, especially when there are no more available seats and you have to keep moving over to make room for more people, and your stroller bag keeps falling flat on its face every time you let it go. The Survanabhumi airport was huge and required a lot of walking, and the lines were really, really long. Ah, it is always the wrong time to wear heels. I emerged at the other side tired, stressed and hungry; ready to plunk myself down to a good meal.

I chose the restaurant where we were to have dinner, since no one really knew where they wanted to eat. I was too preoccupied with figuring out what I was to order, asking my friend and my mom what they wanted, and communicating everything with the clerk who spoke limited English. By chance I turned around and noticed this Caucasian guy having a quiet beer by himself at the bar a few feet away from me. I realized he had been watching me. He was good looking with a sophisticated air about him. I can't really remember what he was wearing, but overall he looked sleek and casual at the same time. Long sleeves, layers, shades of gray and black over denim pants.

I involuntarily turned away, took our food and walked to our table. But I kept peering at him, which was easy because we were seated behind him. We finished our meal, and with 45 minutes left before boarding time, we decided to go around the airport's Duty Free shop. I was telling my mom something about the airport's public internet services as we walked past him. He turned at the sound of my voice and watched me leave. I wondered where he was from and where he was headed.

Strangers. Some of them just come out from the crowd and make you wish you had a chance to get to know them. Of course you forget about them soon enough, especially when you get back to your reality and the people you are currently involved with. But sometimes when you're having coffee by yourself, your mind drifts off and for no reason at all entertains thoughts of him walking through the door and sitting across your table --of you actually getting your chance.

Catherine

Letting go and moving on

2010-11-27T09:01:00.001-08:00

From Postsecret.com

I tend to think it's a waste of time and emotion when people can't get over somebody, be it a friend or a lover. And people tend to not believe me when I say that there isn't anybody I'm hung up over, and that I choose to live my life as if I'm starting from a clean slate, which really, I am.

Well for starters I don't believe in destiny and inherent meaning. I believe we create the meaning ourselves, whether we're aware of it or not. There is no such thing as a person so special that no one can ever measure up to him or her. People are different. We're all better and worse than each other in a million different ways. A person only becomes special when you say so --when you choose him or her, despite the fact that there is sure to be someone else who is more handsome, someone smarter, someone more compassionate and understanding. So coming from the standpoint that someone being special is purely subjective (most humans don't realize how subjective they are), when the situation calls for you to take him/her down from the pedestal you put him on, you can do so. You just have to be steadfast with your decision and be with your emotions as they rage through you. Storms never last forever. The sooner you can accept it and just be with it, the sooner it disappears.

But I guess my most urgent reason for leaving the past behind me is because it robs a person of fully experiencing the present. I've heard people say that the best era of their life was high school, or college. I told them I didn't think that was the case with my life. I honestly thought that wherever I was was the best era in my life. I would rather have it that way than live in the sad ruins of some self-invented "Golden Age." No. I choose to believe that my life is always at its most beautiful until the day I die. There is no peak or Golden Age. How can there be when every season is very different from the last? Comparison is not possible, but there's always something new to appreciate and give in to.

If you've ever lost or grown distant with a friend, you may have noticed that you don't actually end up alone. Instead you end up with new friends ~~unless sobrang loser mong tao~~. Yearning for the people you used to have and for the way things used to be distracts you from the fact that you have new company, good company. There are actually people who go out of their way to spend time with you, to talk, drink, and hang out with you for hours on end. People who care about you. I don't believe in the saying make new friends but keep the old. Whoever is there for you now, be with them. You don't want to trade something that's live and real for a memory you have in your head about something that's not going on anymore.

Being hung up over somebody is first of all unfair to whoever is giving him/herself to you now. But most of all, it is unfair to yourself. It is cruel to put yourself on a standstill, to live in the ruins of something, when the truth is life is still going on for you, and that you continue to meet genuine, amazing people as you go along. You probably just can't see that because you're comparing them to someone in your past. But really, for as long as you honestly believe that someone is the best and there will never be anyone better, that is exactly how things will occur to you. It will act like a filter, and every time you meet somebody new, you won't actually be seeing them for who they are. You'll be seeing whoever it is in your head, and how the person in front of you "measures up." So you will walk away from the current person, thinking you know what you said no to, when in reality, you didn't even see him. The whole time he was talking, you were somewhere in your head with your past, seeing the person in front of you through the layers of issues you've been dragging along. That's how powerful human subjectivity is. We don't even know that we're being subjective, and that we really do create our own realities.

I guess all I'm trying to say is, life comes with a flow. Go along with it. The only reason any of us get stuck is because we make ourselves stuck.

Also, getting over people doesn't entail thinking less of them. If you have to concoct some story in your head about how they weren't good people, then you're building a wall and you're fooling yourself. When you're able to acknowledge how amazing someone is, that there was a reason you loved them, and then freely let them go, then that's when you can truly say that the past is complete. And you can now go on experiencing whatever life currently is for you.

Catherine

Dork in a dress

On Gamelan and (not) having babies

On Papa Piolo's bright, sun shiny outlook

Ikaw na ang dakilang extra na naging bonggang bida!

Cuteness that tugs at the heart strings

This dakilang extra deserves a commercial release!

On Pinoy cultural identity: What is ours?

On receiving "fake, technologically contrived" birthday greetings on Facebook

Attraction: The pursuit

On the Ruffa, John Lloyd and Shaina controversy

Missed connections

Why you shouldn't drag a guy along to go shopping

A Perfect Life

Somewhere, someone, sometimes thinks of you... and more

Last hurrah tryst before trying the knot. Would you? Did you?

How I became a straight ally

Stalker!

On the 30 Day Blogging Challenge

Pretty Girl Problems

Man rape is real and it happens a lot

Laughing through "No Other Woman" (with spoilers) and how to be a true bitch

Cate de Leon's unexpected encounter with a haunted place

On zombies and The Walking Dead

On Lady Gaga's "You and I"

On Shamcey Supsup and being healthily biased

To a good week :)

That's what friends are for *sarcasm*

And the skin whitening obsession continues

Cate de Leon stumbles into CrossFit

Cate de Leon has a fan!

Cate de Leon's self-rehab from Facebok addiction

I love you. What does that have to do with you?

Profile #2: Puck, the walking orgasm

Profile #1: The baby brother

Profiles

On The Museum of Me

On contracting STD's from prostitutes

I'm rooting for the RH Bill to be passed, but...

On disturbing conversations about childbirth (don't worry, no gruesome details; I was covering my ears)

The race for the half-priced frappuccino

My (500) Days of Summer philosophy

Guilty reading pleasures: Cate de Leon's chick lit of choice

I judge you

My new beauty secret

"Indifference"

Cliff jumping

Confessions of a Fil-Am

Bigots

On Lady Gaga and Maria Aragon

Wanted: UP Fair stories for Inquirer's 2bU

Why I stopped being the reklamo queen

Single on Valentine's --and loving it :D

How not to flirt with a girl (part 2)

How not to flirt with a girl part 1 (of hopefully not too many)

So this is love

Into a Volcano: Trekking up Mt. Pinatubo

2011 is the year I pay it forward

Cate de Leon's Thailand adventure

The Perfect Stranger

Letting go and moving on

That's what friends are for sarcasm