IN PHOTOS: December in Iloilo

(c)

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IN PHOTOS: At Work in Cebu

I had a better room, and an even better view this time. Managed to squeeze in a few hours of sight-seeing too. Temple of Leah was so beautiful. And the sunset at the 10,000 roses Cafe in Cordova was breathtaking.









(c)

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Leaving Home Alone

Before I accepted the job offer, Z and I had a conversation about how exciting it must be to travel for work. I imagined how I would go places, meet new people, and learn about their culture. It was such a pretty darn good picture in my head that made me believe for brighter days. Then again, reality was almost always no way near to what we had in mind.

Fast forward to my first week at my new job, I flew to Davao City. I had to stay at a downtown hotel due to the last minute booking. Before we settled on where I was actually staying, we attempted to search for other better hotels that night, but ended up in the first hotel we booked anyway. I stayed on the third floor of the hotel. There was no elevator. The room was small, but it had good enough space for a tiny person like me. The walls were painted beige. It had one average-sized closet without doors. The single bed had one pillow. The window beside my bed had a broken lock that made me too scared to unpack my things. I thought, it'd be easier to run with my stuff and luggage intact. I kept the TV on because there were loud banging noises in the next room. But the loudest volume could not tone down the noise outside nor the voices in my head. I was thirsty, and I had no water. I wanted to walk outside to find food, but my anxieties got the best of me. It was close to midnight. Tired from an early flight and craving for a good sleep, I lie in bed, feeling homesick. I never knew how bad it could get when you were away from home for work, and not for leisure. Without anyone to call, but only a boss—whom I've only met two days prior—staying in a different hotel in the city.

Growing up, being away from home was something I look forward to. Like any other kid, I associated leaving home with freedom. I hated being told what to do despite having no idea what to do yet. Today, old and penniless, I still had no idea how to proceed with life. The difference was that I would now appreciate a manual in life or something.

The next morning, I woke up early to find the nearest Mcdonald's because of too much crying the night before, and I just wanted iced coffee (which tasted more like water with a hint of coffee than coffee). Surprisingly, it was only a 10-minute walk from my hotel. I also stack up my room with snacks and bottled water I bought from the convenience store nearby. But before I could finish my breakfast, my colleagues had arrived to pick me up for another day of work.

It was an exhausting week, but still an exhilarating experience.

Familiar faces surprised me at the airport, and I could not be any happier.

I flew to Cebu the next month.

(c)

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Progression

The road to success is very far. From where I stand. I don’t even know which road leads to one. It’s hard to tell at this point of my life, at this age, in this place. How do you even define success? When you have more riches than rags? When you can buy things most people can’t? I guess money is the first thing that comes to mind. Perhaps, we can say success is financial stability for you, and for all the generations of your blood line to come. How amazing it is to think that the next children in your family will have all the privilege in the world if you become financially stable today. That’s the dream, isn’t it? That is if you disregard self-contentment or happiness. Although, all these things are vast subjects impossible to discuss with only 500 words. Feelings of sadness, discontentment, and dissatisfaction are intertwined—connected by several factors inside and outside our human brains and bodies.

I have been filled with so much discontent lately; actually, for as long as I can remember. I know I’ve been happy, and have been lucky enough to have a stable enough life, but I’ve been struggling for years—with my life, with my mental health. I’m not sick or anything, but like everyone else, I have battles in my head that only I can hear and feel. Sometimes, I feel like it's gone worse and I cannot seem to function to complete even the most basic, most essential tasks of my day. Sometimes, it gets so bad I impulsively quit things, run away from responsibilities, disregard consequences, and totally shut myself out. Shut myself out, not down. But that would have been nice. If only we can shut ourselves down for a week, a day or two, to recharge our brains and regain control. But that’s never an option. We always have to wait until it gets so bad we cannot hardly recover. It becomes more and more difficult every time. It leaves a little less of you every time. The problem is me. But no matter how many times I wind up in the hole I dug myself, I always end up defeated. The bad voices in my head keep blocking the tiny light that's trying to get in.

But today, I choose differently. I don't have much—still not enough drive and optimism to create plans—but I have enough. For the record, there is still that voice that says, “You are only good today, your selfish, self-saboteur ass will still be up to no good tomorrow.” But I’m fighting it. I’m fighting it just by believing I’m going to make it. I’m going to make it because I’m making plans. I’m making plans means I’m trying to focus on what I can do, and not what I can't do. Today, I decide to act, to do, and to move. Today, I decide not to let my demons pull me down. I’m not sure about tomorrow. But today, at least, I'm doing something.

(c)

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The Perpetual Gloom of the Troubled Mind, A Series of Rants

I had a fun, normal childhood. My family loved and supported me; I had a roof above my head, a food on my table, and a bed to sleep on; I went to a good school, and had good grades; I had toys I wanted; I had friends I could play jack stones with; and I had some minor disappointing moments. It was normal, and good. Despite my negative thoughts, and a few setbacks, I had an ambition. I believed in myself.


Because success feels nice.

My first vivid memory of the taste of sweet victory was when I was in second grade. Closed the school year as among the top students of the class. I felt a rush. The joy and pride it brought me. The smiles my parents gave me. The admiration from my classmates. From then on, I decided I wanted to be good in school. So I studied hard.

In fifth grade, I met the teacher that made a significant impact in my adolescent life. She's strict, but she's nurturing. She set a high standard for me, and I did not want to disappoint her. I was the class president, and I cried every time I could not keep the class quiet. I willingly swept the floors of our room the next morning when the assigned cleaners on the previous day decided to skip it. I fixed the bookshelves like she always reminded the whole class to do, but always forgot. I did the writings on the blackboard when asked for my classmates to copy. I would borrow a notebook from a friend to do mine at home. It was a series of tasks I wanted to do because I wanted to be good. Maintained my grades all the while being more active with school activities. My mother attended a number of recognition days. I had so much parchment papers with my name on it. I was happy. I was going somewhere.

The same school year, I joined my first declamation contest. I was hesitant at first. I did not want to fail. Again, my class adviser pushed me to do it. Not in a bad way. She believed in me. She trained me after class, and I practiced at home every night before I went to bed. I rehearsed it over and over. The declamation piece had two speaking characters—God and the devil—the good and the bad. Part of the act was to quickly change costumes to differentiate the two. It was a real challenge. I could not achieve the turning-of-the-cape move she wanted. I cried to her, and honestly confessed I could not do it. But she shook her head, looked me in the eye, and demanded I win the competition. And I did. It was a great day. I thought I could do anything. I thought the universe could see how hard we work, and everything could get rewarded.


Yeah, but that didn't last.

In high school, I still managed to get good grades. Though I did not have the same motivation as I had when I was young, I was still among the top students in my year. I thought growing up does this to people. I just wanted to get by, get to the real world; because I genuinely believed I would be great then.

Slowly, I got a taste of life's bittersweet disappointing (and stupefying) moments. I failed to get to the university I wanted. Well, technically, I passed the entrance exam for the only university I applied to. But only for the second course of my choice. But I ditched that, unintentionally. Then, intentionally.

It was after our Home Economics class, and we had just finished making a cake. Exhausting, but satisfying. On our way back to the classroom, my friend who was also eyeing to go to the same university asked me about my college application. I was shocked. For I forgot about it. And for how incredibly stupid I could get. When I got home, I read the letter (result of the entrance exam) from the university. Just when I thought I could not get any dumber, I did: I read it, and convinced myself I simply had to show up. Because frankly, even if I did accept I had to bring the documents, it would be too late. But I showed up. I brought my Mommy-La (aunt of my mother) with me to accompany me to the 'University Belt'. That's what they called it, short for U-belt--location of some of the most known universities in the country; members of the prestigious UAAP. Then to my dream school. It was glorious. Studied in the province all my life, the university was a vision of possibilities and opportunities. Alas! No documents in hand, no official acceptance letter. Horrified. Mortified. I walked past the gates like I had been living on Earth for 80 years. A walking, almost-but-will-never-be-freshman disaster. I would never forget that feeling. I could have called them. Went back there again, this time, with the documents. I could have done so many things. But I did nothing. I did not even try. I sulked, and let it got to me. I finished college, because that was a system everyone strictly followed (and of course, education is education; get a degree, even if no one's going to hire you without work experience despite being fresh out of school). My dream was still there, but I had grown too skeptical, and too scared to try out things I actually wanted to be a part of. I detached myself bit by bit to not feel such disappointment again. I accepted defeat, without going to battle. I stopped trying. I got by.


And yes, this is starting to sound like a real, whiny depressing tale. Because it is.

Just like everyone else, I thought once you reached a certain age, you would get your life figured out. What a dream. A bullshit dream, that is. You would just get older, not always wiser. You would get your heart broken many times more than you would ever feel loved. You would lose people you thought would be in your life forever. You would learn life's most valuable lessons the hard way, and you would not always remember to use them. You would get yourself into more mazes, and would be lucky enough to get one feedback out of a hundred. You would get more responsibilities, more pressure from more people, and more bills. Adulthood would be a series of disappointments.

My first job was my dream job. At a local cable news network. Small company, little pay. But it was scary, exciting, and fulfilling in many ways. But I quit that. For a while, I felt better for leaving what I thought was hell. Got a new job far from what I wanted. Quit that, too. Another job, different kind of hell, even worse. Quit. Saved nothing. Just lost the little light that kept pushing me to get up. Spiraled into my own dismal abyss. Less optimistic. Less effort. Until I lost my dream. My ambition. Some friends. Myself. Older, uglier, and officially broke. Tried to avoid life, but got knocked down by it, anyway. Regrets joined the circus, too. Anxiety killed the life out of every possible party.

I know everything's my fault. I am, after all, the captain of my own life. But that's about the end of owning up to it. Because I let it all happen to me. I let it sink me to the bottom. And now I can't breathe, and I can't swim up for air.


If you think you will get some wisdom here or some enlightenment, there is none.

I smoke a lot more cigarettes these days. After I eat. Before I take a bath. After an anxious day, which is everyday. Before bed. And even after I wake up in the morning to pee. Of course, I drink alcohol. I'm an old person with underlying issues and low self-esteem. So a lot of night-caps. I stay up late, as always. But I still get to see the sun set, so it's not as worse as before given my track record. I could not keep my focus to read my books or quickly finish a series or a movie. I'm always distracted. But I don't do drugs. Let's be clear about that. I'm merely turning into a full-grown human disease in this forsaken country. It's hard enough to live like a functional individual, you have to deal with external factors and people in your life's issues too. Quite demanding.

Maybe, I'm too blind and anxious to see the answers. Or too impatient and lazy to figure out life's puzzles. Or too proud of a failure to even try and ask for help. Maybe, yes to all. I still want to do things, buy stuff, go places. I dream to unwind, refresh, and restart. I wish to find a new passion to pursue, a hope to hold onto, a light to see through the darkness. The war inside all of us is the biggest war we have to overcome because that's where everything starts and ends. But it's never easy. Especially if you only know what you don't want, and not what you do want.

The problem is me.

I know I have to get to the shore, but I don't know how to swim.


(c)

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Para-Thrilla in MNL: Paramore 'After Laughter' Tour

Back in Manila for the third time, American rock band Paramore still makes their Filipino fans go crazy wild. It's been five years, and we simply waited too long. To add, the Manila concert was postponed from its original scheduled date on February 18 to August 23 (that's another six months to what everyone thought would be the night-night) due to Hayley's respiratory condition back then. Imagine the devastation, then the anticipation.

It was the second time I've seen Paramore perform live. The first one was at their first concert in Manila back in 2010 (could not believe that was almost a decade ago). I did not have good photos of the band then. This time, sadly, I did not have any decent ones, too, because my camera was not allowed in the arena anymore (I had attended concerts in the same venue before, but this was the first time I was banned from bringing a "compact system" camera inside). It bummed me out, but when the concert started, it felt nice not to worry whether I have good videos or photos of them (also, Z was kind enough to take photos and videos while I just bang my head and sing my heart out). I was on a high the whole night.

Reese Lansangan, an absolute divine, opened the night for the band. She sang four original songs, including 'Exploration No. 5' and 'St. Petersburg'. Her voice was ethereal.

After a few more minutes of what felt like a decade, Paramore came out on stage. Screams grew louder as they started the night with 'Grudges', a single from their latest album 'After Laughter'. Hayley was dancing like a goddess. You could feel the excitement, and every overwhelming feeling in the arena.

They followed it with a song from their previous album, 'Paramore', 'Still Into You'. I was singing my heart out, without hesitation. It was only the second song, but I was starting to feel like my voice was cracking. Yes, that much joy.

After performing 'Rose-Colored Boy', the band sang songs from their 'Riot!' album, 'That's What You Get' and 'Crushcrushcrush'. Waving their hands, banging their heads. Everyone was just singing loudly and happily.

They played 'Fake Happy', 'Playing God', 'Forgiveness', 'Ignorance', and 'Pool' before they took a short break. Even leaving the fans with a big note on the screens, "WE'LL BE BACK IN A SEC. LOVE, US." When they came back on stage, the arena roared.

The band sat for a while as they do a cover of Drake's 'Passion Fruit'. Followed by a personal favorite from 'Brand New Eyes', 'Misguided Ghosts'. But it was that moment when they sang '26' that took a hold of me. They started performing, and I suddenly started crying. I remembered the times I listened to it, and how it kept me company. I could not hold back the tears.

All lights were shut as the band went off stage again. They came back and sang several songs from their latest record, 'Caught in the Middle', 'Idle Worship', and 'No Friend'. They also sang a classic from 'Riot!', 'Misery Business' (as tradition, a lucky fan got to sing on stage, and even hugged Hayley). Zac Farro also graced us with a song as Hayley took a step back to play the drums, and do backing vocals. They performed 'Ain't it Fun' and 'I Told You So' before closing the night with the first single they released for 'After Laughter', 'Hard Times'. It was an amazing night worth the long wait. Unforgettable, euphoric.

Following Paramore for over a decade, the band has really been through a lot. Songs from 'After Laughter' make you want to dance, but the lyrics stab the heart straight to where it hurts. Hayley has always been vocal about mental health, and it reflects on their latest record. When she asked everyone to share an imaginary toast with them, the arena was filled with warmth.

I don't know when will I be able to see them again, but for now, I'm only reliving the moment.

(c) & Z

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IN PHOTOS: Tagaytaycation

(c)

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A Weekend in San Juan

My father had been wanting to go to San Juan, Batangas since Z shared how his family always spent the holidays there. And so, as soon as the weekend came, we were set for a short weekend getaway.

LA LUZ

We stayed at La Luz Beach Resort--one of the famous resorts in the area. Of course, the beach was nice. Sand was white, and the waves danced like hell. Oh, it was pure bliss to finally get out of the house, and let my feet touch some natural waters.

We stayed at the premier loft room. It's air-conditioned, and furnished with 2 double-sized beds (48 inches wide), 3 semi-double beds (42 inches), and 1 pull-out mattress. It has one shower and one toilet which were built separately, so people could use it at the same time. It's spacious enough, and can house 7 to 10 people (with extra charge). Rate for the room is P6,760 per night. Overall, satisfactory room for the family.

As for the food, the resort requires guests to avail of their mandatory food package which costs P1,710 per person (per day). It's inclusive of lunch upon arrival, afternoon snack, dinner, and breakfast the next day; all served buffet style. Food is quite delicious. Not all of it, though. But price was enough for the adequate food package.

The resort, naturally, offers other amenities that, unfortunately, we did not get to try. They do have a bar which we enjoyed though. Limited choices of liquors, but enough for a night cap (as long as you have no plans on getting drunk whatsoever). Worth mentioning too were there life-size chess pieces and other board games. Fear not though, because if you want to play them the usual way, they have a shop where you can borrow board games, football, volleyball, etc.

The place was okay, though it could have been better. They could still do a lot of renovations and developments that could make the resort look even nicer. But the view, was and is always, worth the travel. Just the right kind of weekend I need to unwind for a bit.

CAFENO

We were supposed to have lunch at Marimar's Kambingan, a known restaurant in the province, but we decided to get coffee instead (we were still full from our buffet breakfast at the resort). So Z brought us to Cafeño--an old coffee shop that serves delicious barako coffee. They don't only serve great coffee, but scrumptious pastries, too. We tried their coffee with lambanog, iced barako coffee, and even their barako-flavored ice cream. Also, their tamales was as good as I hoped it was.

Place was quiet and cozy. Interior was really pretty, with their playful black and white floor, and unique artwork displays. They even recycled a bunch of old sewing machines, and turned them into tables. Definitely worth a visit.

OUR LADY OF MT. CARMEL CHURCH

For our last stop, we also wanted to drop by at a Church since it was a Sunday. We visited Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church (or known simply as 'Carmel') in Lipa to give thanks for the wonderful weekend. It was my first time there. The Church which many believe to be miraculous due to what devotees claim to have had an apparition of Mary the Mediatrix of All Grace in the late 1940s was also famously known for its stories about the shower of petals.

So yes, it was short, and I wished we stayed their a little longer, but it was a wonderfully well-spent weekend with my loves.


(c)

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Part 1: Long Live Summer

It was the summer of 2011 when we first met.

He was young, proud, and without the worries of the world. His eyes, sparkled, when hit by the rays of the sun. His smiles looked like it had not seen nor felt a heartbreak in its life. Oh, that god damn smile. Without him realizing, he made my mornings a little more bearable to handle. A good kind of distraction, I said. So I let him.

But summer came to a close. We slowly lost contact as the leaves started to fall.

(c)

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A Meeting in Outer Space: Incubus '8' Tour

It was my cousin who first opened my eyes (ears, if you insist) to the music of American rock band, Incubus. Though a bit late to the scene, I became a fan (which was not a surprise, really). So when my sister's boyfriend managed to get us free VIP tickets for their fifth concert in the country days before the actual event, I was overjoyed. How lucky could a girl get, I thought.



THE NIGHT OF

We arrived at the venue with people already crowding the place. A long queue to the Patron section welcomed us. Fans, mostly dressed in black. Old, and young. Long time lovers, and new wolf pack of listeners. Representatives of different generations showed up to see the same band. Amazing how music can bring such a mix of people together.

It was past 9 PM when the band set foot on stage.  The stage vomited color. The lights were blinding. The music was loud and familiar. There they were: Brandon Boyd, Michael Einziger, Chris Kilmore, Ben Kenney, and Jose Pasillas. Right in front of my eyes. Performing live. Right in front of my eyes. Better than I have ever imagined.



After seeing them come out on stage, we went even wilder as they started to play. They opened with a song from their latest album "8," Love in a Time of Surveillance.



Then Brandon started singing old favorites like Warning from their album "Morning View."



They played more songs from "8" such as Glitterbomb, Nimble Bastard, and one of my personal favorites, State of the Art.




Classic hits from the band were also performed (not in chronological order). How we rocked to Anna Molly and Megalomaniac. Go wild over Echo, Sick Sad Little World, and Pardon Me. We sang our hearts out to Stellar and Wish You Were Here. We jumped as we sang every word to Nice to Know You. And of course, our heads danced to the beat as the Incubus played their breakthrough single, Drive.

How surreal it was.




Changing as it is through the years, I will never tire of both their old and developing (new) music. I still remember singing to their songs on that special night. It was those few moments of euphoria that I live for.

Incubus, you are magical.

(c)

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