Project Runway Philippines: First Episode Review

The reason I am a reality-TV enthusiast is because I look forward to the showcase of talent and ability. The US TV industry has not failed in providing the rest of the world with hits and misses when it comes to this format, and the good hits are truly worth an expression of sheer loyalty. Hence, despite the fact I have now become an occasional Survivor viewer and I constantly anticipate only the last part of America's Next Top Model where they show the photographs of the amateur models, I remain to be a Project Runway enthusiast and big fan (and Blind Date too! Mwahahaha).

The concept is basically simple: pluck out undiscovered designers from their everyday lives and put them together in an arena of fashion-design-and-execution challenges. The American show is evidently a huge success and it is also thanks to the surprising personalities of some personalities from the industry: Heidi Klum has put the auf Wiedersehen into the mainstream level, Michael Kors' criticisms are those you want to listen to, you don't want to bore Nina Garcia, as Tim Gunn would always say, and I wish Tim Gunn is my uncle or a bestfriend. All in all, in addition to their quirks that make them important components of the show, these guys know what they're talking about.

It is no surprise that a Philippine franchise is another, say, TV event waiting to happen. Such franchises --- well, there is indeed that scary part where the successful American counterpart becomes the source of imitation and that the local version does not live up when it comes to the production value and the expected drama. The local Next Top Model didn't interest me nor the Pinoy Idol. I don't know why --- maybe because in this arena, the winners are predictable. You either have the mestiza-biracial or morena teen-ager winning the title or the typical belter which is a dime a dozen in this country. Local designers, well, that's another story. Maybe because the fashion industry here is not as big and the masses buy their clothes from SM anyways, if not from the established clothing brands. Heck, I have met Mitch Dulce and she's a nice and talented person, but I never really had the initiative to visit her celebrated store. Maybe because Bayo and the occasional sale in Mango are enough.

The premiere of Project Runway Philippines was something I had to pencil in just how I had marked the Sex and the City: the Movie opening day months before its showing. The show features Teresa Herrera as the host (lovely to look at and very articulate), Rajo Laurel and Apples Aberin-Sahdwaani as the judges (very admirable and highly respected professionals in the industry) and Jojie Lloren as the mentor (another important industry figure but the camera has yet to capture his TV personality). Although I am no insider, I think the selection of these figures was pretty good; they're famous, they have highly regarded standings in the industry, and like the American cast, they also know what they are talking about.

Although there was the anticipation for the premiere, sad to say, I couldn't help but point out certain problematic aspects of the show. I'll start with my biggest problem.



Again, the problem, so far, is the classic production value. I read somewhere that Unitel is involved with the shooting of the show but in the end credits I saw Solar Entertainment as the production arm. Frankly, I don't know why the premiere didn't look as appeasing and it's supposed to make an impact. Problems with the camera work, the quality of the video, the lights... geez. The scenes at the School of Fashion and the Arts are dark, and the scenes at the Amorsolo Mansion are waaay darker. The participants' reactions and even their moments are not caught as dramatically as one would expect from reality TV. The external shots, the ones taken at the Liwasang Bonifacio, was quite pitiful. In local industry-speak, the scenes are sunog. Burnt. It reminded me of some local telenovelas and video clips where they make the light as white and as washed-out as possible to hide flaws.

Even the runway was dark. There's something wrong with the lighting that the clothes are not highlighted as they should be. It's hard to see the details, and to think it is in the details that add the winning advantage of the garments. There was this piece by Charette Regala which when I saw during the walk looked really blah, but up close, it had its beauty with the random draping at the bottom. The clothes were also not shot well. The audio should be also addressed; I couldnt hear what Jojie Lloren was saying, and for me, the moments with the mentor is important. So Jojie would probably not do the famous Tim Gunn catchphrases ("Make it work!", "Carry on!"), but I want to hear what he has to say with the developments of the garments, from design to execution.

In addition to the production value, I have to say that some of these participants already have an unfair advantage. I think it was stated by one of the contestants who thought that Aries Lagat and Veejay Floresca are already established as one of the young designers to look out for in the country. Lagat won the 2004 Mega Young Designers Competition and Floresca admitted that he already had a shop in Makati which he had to close down for the show. Some of the designers were already featured in fashion magazines. And surprisingly, a lot of them already knew each other prior to the show which is why I felt sorry for Loida Hunter, the 51 year-old corporate uniform seamstress and the unsurprising first one to be eliminated, who apparently looked displaced from the young pool of designers.

I guess it's alright that the contestants are already in the industry, but a challenge is that Project Runway Philippines may just become one of the run-of-the-mill fashion contests in the country. Lagat and Floresca competed and became finalists in a couple of national competitions, and I was not surprised that the two's designs in the first episode were the top 2, with Lagat winning the immunity.

In a way, it made me think, just how many undiscovered talents do we have here in the Philippines? Those talents that do deserve such exposure and opportunity? Although, yes, it can be argued that Lagat, Floresca, et al. do have the right to have the same exposure, but then again, they already had their chance and they are already, at least, names. It gave me the impression that they are in it for the purpose of branding and I wouldn't be surprised if either would win. Weren't there other undiscovered designers who want to have their own shops and have yet to show their abilities that should have filled their slots instead?

Generally, the first episode was a disappointment in these aspects, but the talents are not. I really should applaud Lagat and Floresca for delivering it, and although the judges did not include Ivan Raborar's look as among the top, I thought it was distinctive. I also liked Charette Regala's dress, but it wouldn't work without that necklace. I just wish there would be more private moments with the contestants because a beauty of reality TV is you get to know them. I am a bit pleased, as an audience looking for conflict, that even Lagat was not viewed favorably by some contestants, Mara Reyes can't really sew (!), and maybe some of the contestants have a crush on their rivals. Alright, so it's a wonderful gay parade, but it's entertaining to listen to them speak their lingo. That makes the local version more distinctive from the original; the Pinoy character is just so interesting. This is the part that the production (or say, editing) should focus on and make it work!

Well, the preview of the next episode at least looked better in terms of quality. I am looking forward to more drama and great talent. Honestly, if this show would go well, people would start flocking for the designers themselves and not just the labels.
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Einstein Had Dreams Too

(Note: Revised, originally posted in my Facebook Slates)

"In the long narrow office on Speichergasse, the room full of practical ideas, the young patent clerk still sprawls in his chair, head down on his desk. For the past several months, since the middle of April, he has dreamed many dreams about time. His dreams have taken hold of his research. His dreams have worn him out, exhausted him so that he sometimes cannot tell whether he is awake or asleep. But the dreaming is finished. Out of many possible natures of time, imagined in as many nights, one seems compelling. Not that the others are impossible. The others might exist in other worlds."
(Einstein's Dreams by Alan Lightman, p. 6)

I think the term was "significant coincidences", as how my friend Chin put it. Generally, it means some things just happen, not out of random collision but as something that the universe may have somehow conspired. There are patterns and occurrences everywhere: meeting people, letting go of people, opportunities leading to more opportunities, opportunities lost, you get the drift. Frankly, I don't want to think that ALL things happen for a reason, that things happen out of purpose, just because I believe in the power of free will. Well, I guess in the general aspect of things, free will is not isolated thereby creating a certain force that lead to, well, things. That particular common force. Maybe this is what purpose is all about. "Collective consciousness" is another term my friend Roan and I usually discuss especially when we see some creative things that have already manifested which used to play as concepts in our minds; unfortunately, those who realized these are other people, hence, you cannot just easily accuse anyone of ripping off your idea (unless you have proof --- write it down! Apply for copyright! Yeah right!).

So basically, as how Allan Lightman theorized how Albert Einstein may have formulated relativity, such ideas do not just spring out of sheer intellect. Einstein didn't just have those dreams, he addressed them, translated them into scientific equations, and maybe he had them IP-ed in the patent office where he first worked, if not taking the chance by sending his ideas and thoughts to a scientific journal therefore an intended shot at the moon.

When you really think about it, we are constantly shooting for the moon. Even though they say time will tell, time wouldn't tell before you make the first step. The initiative and the target is there, and time ticks on. All what time knows is that the world and life keep turning. Time, like nature, does not need people; people, on one hand , depends on time so much that timing becomes an essence.




I read Einstein's Dreams back in college, and again, through "significant coincidence", I did not just discover this book out of general knowledge: I just happened to be listening to talk radio. Fine, it was Jessica Zafra's show. And my former "idol" fell in-love with the book and she read an excerpt. And then I fell in-love with the excerpt. And so I looked for it (now I realize, if I really, REALLY want something, I look for it and go after it. Explains the sudden trip to Amsterdam, hahaha! Though I did not find it *sob*). Powerbooks only had the Pasay Road branch then, and unfortunately, I could not afford a hard-bound copy of the book with my allowance. It probably took me a couple of years before I finally got to buy the book, this time Powerbooks' branch in Alabang Town Center was already open, and I bought it on New Year's day. I think this was my first Book-of-the-Year, meaning, I have a, well, Book of the Year, which oddly somewhat foretells the year ahead. Last year it was "Notes on a Scandal" (I did not mean to, but I have a system, and the system resulted to this book) and this year, again, incidentally, is Ma Jian's Red Dust, which was highly recommended to me by Mike.

If there's such thing as mental masturbation, well, I think identifying all these sense of inter-connectedness can lead one to multiple mental eurekas.

The book talks about different stories on time, and how its physical reality can be romanticized. It describes how time seems to be suspended, how time flies, how time seems masked sometimes. And how time, despite its supposed linear properties, is actually a cycle or maybe like random billiard balls tossing each other off, and through its force it all equates to equilibrium. It balances the sum of all forces.

What if time does not amount to zero?

Somehow it made me think of relationships --- all kinds --- where time seems to be limited. Life's like this as people die, and things such as your favorite classmate is going to move to another country, or maybe an unforgettable summer course suddenly gives way to a bitter autumn. Or maybe you run out of money, and vacation's over.

Okay, let's look at that uber-romantic and idealized film Before Sunrise. Jesse and Celine knew that they would be apart by the next morning. So what would they do? They maximized the small time they had and had an amazing night. Hence, before they went their separate ways, their time was about to tick to zero. There is a "however" though. There's a hanging prospect of time. Which is funny because in the movie, they named the date December 16, 6 months away, and Vienna. That's how they are supposed to get from point A to B. In a way, this shows that time, in their case, does not terminate at zero despite their initial conditions.

However, instead of making it to B, a twist shows up, and 6 months turned to 9 years, Vienna into Paris.

But what led to the meeting again? Jesse's book. It was hope thrown into the wind. A shot at the moon. She found him after his attempt to find her through his supposed fiction. And in the movie, they admitted that it seemed as though the last time they saw each other was just yesterday.

Time didn't tell, but it would. Who knew the chances that go with the act of writing a book would go through: finding an agent, getting published, putting the word out, being lucky enough to go on a book tour in Europe. If time didn't tell, would it conspire with the universe? Is this how an example of what my university professor always told us in class: "Take that first step and everything would fall into place"?

If Jesse and Celine initially conspired to meet again in 6 months, which would turn into 9 years, which is basically due to a set of coincidences, does that mean time can be that cunning? Or maybe Lightman was right: "Not that the others are impossible. The others might exist in other worlds" --- not that it was impossible, but it might exist in other worlds which is simply another time away. Like nine years.

There are things you can quantify, there are things that only certain relationships will understand. But this understanding needs to come two ways, otherwise this time it's just an illusion. But time can be broken from its quantified stage; in some instances, rules are broken. That's when time stops as a form of measure, it becomes an essence. It's the matter where understanding, purpose, and maybe intention float. A day can seem like an eternity, a moment can be stretched, certain affairs, at the end of the day, may not seem to matter at all, and it would amount to zero. Everything merely exists with respect to time, yet time does not have to be circumstantial. Action can always contest time.

Now that I think about it, I think what made this book special to me is that it makes me hopeful. It's not really a book of hope, but it made me look forward to possibilities: it is never too late, and when the time comes for things to happen, they will. Otherwise, their forces are already exhausted; it's time to move on and look for new things, new significant coincidences, and maybe, step beyond and rise from the collective consciousness, and have your own thing manifested. By yourself. Time wouldn't tell you, but you can tell time what you want to happen. As how a Zobel said it: it is what you make of it.

Back to the film --- it can be argued that the nine years may be a waste, but then, maybe not. If the nine years was a waste, then that one night in Vienna is a waste too. Or is it?

"Who would fare better in this world of fitful time? Those who have seen the future and live only one life? Or those who have not seen the future and wait to live life? Or those who deny the future and live two lives?" (Einstein's Dreams, Alan Lightman, p. 89)

And it all boils down to choice. Therefore, despite the influence and the conspiracies of the universe, it takes your own free will to get out of the illusion that we are all victims of time.



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These Feet Are Made for Looking

As my sister was scheduled to sign a contract this afternoon for her newfound job, she managed to convince me to watch the latest Batman movie at the Trinoma. I was supposed to drive back to my city abode due to pending work, but I reasoned, given the rave on this movie and Heath Ledger's supposed deserving posthumous Oscar performance, I decided to go ahead with the movie on a Thursday night and spend my weekend nights at home, catching up on work and snooze.

Little did I know that saying yes would also lead to an unplanned "catching up" with my shoe shopping. And who knew that whilst scanning the shelves for the right pair at the right price, I suddenly had this realization: choosing a pair of shoes is, say, a reflection of how you make certain choices in life. I am not talking about taste here; I am talking about looking for the right pair with your choices limited to what is available and what you have in your pocket.

My brief stint at looking at these pairs, for some reason, suddenly gave me an opportunity to learn more about myself. Well, maybe for some it can be easily pointed out that selecting a pair of shoes does show certain selection principles; but see, I think people have different attitudes when it comes to evolutionary perceptions in the context of consumption. And I am not just talking about the regular evils of consumerism here --- let's face it, life is to be consumed. We are consumers. There is value in what we consume. If we are to survive, we need to be armed with a pair of shoes that is the fittest. The same way we need to be armed and supported by the right people, the right friends, the right family. There are no perfect choices here. We learn to hone our choices as we go on shopping for the components of our life.

The thing is, we know what we want but we cannot control what we can find and how to get it. In this case, do we settle for the thing that is right for the current budget, the current fit, the current trend? Whatever happened to the thing that we truly want?



As I stepped into the second floor of the Trinoma, I saw the usual "sale" signs --- CMG, Aldo, Naturalizer, Floresheim... and then there was that familiar alarm of attack or flight. My basic philosophy when it comes to shoe shopping is that I will only invest in those that need investing in. For example, at the present my most expensive pair is my Merrell hiking shoes. I know that I would splurge for a pair of calf-length boots, but it is not practical I invest in it now given the location I am in --- unless I decide to live in continuous recycled air conditions. I would buy certain brands, but only on sale; I would get less expensive ones, though unfortunately, based on experience, the cheaper ones usually give me blisters.

Frankly, I have about 20 pairs of shoes, with only about 5 pairs I usually wear. Two of those pairs are sandals/outdoor flipflops, and three of them are heeled ones that I interchange when I go out. I have a few pairs that I haven't even used. I have a sister whom I can borrow certain shoes from. Frankly, this afternoon, I did not really need another pair as I bought the last one a few weeks ago which I only bought because it would match the bridesmaid dress I wore last weekend --- and this bridesmaid dress, well, I don't see wearing it again. Ever.

Though of course, I'll find something to wear them with. Just like the five other pairs I haven't seen since the day I bought them.

Yes, I can be an impulsive shopper. Sometimes. I know why : it's deprivation. I rarely shop. I work at home. I don't need to shop for clothes like other working women do. I do not face the everyday dilemma of which outfit to wear to work. But I like clothes, and I buy them when I see something that I like within a reasonable budget. Well, I had the budget, I liked those shoes. The problem is, I don't really have the chance to wear them. Not that I don't have a place to wear them to because I also go out. See, the thing is, I could have them, I wanted them, but they are not necessities.

Truth be told, there is this one pair that I really need and want.

It's crazy that the pair I've always wanted I only saw in a movie. If I am not obsessed with finding continuity problems, I look at the costumes. Diane Keaton was wearing them in Something's Gotta Give. It's funny because it's generic. It is easy to say I can find them anywhere. But the problem is, I haven't. It's just a pair of black sandals/medium height wedge flipflops, probably with a leather or patent leather band. Diane Keaton's character, Erica Barry, this cool, theater writer lady throwing around some self-taught French, living life ala Ina Garten, with a nice house waiting in the Hamptons, is wearing them in the grocery store scene with Jack Nicholson. The height is right, it's safe, it's fashionable, it's staple mod.

I SO want those shoes. They are perfect. I can wear them with pants, shorts, skirts, and dresses. They go well with this weather!

I told my friend Liz about it, and I think it was last year when she accompanied me around Glorietta to look for it. Funny, I found some variations. The closest one I found was at Cole Haan; eek --- almost four thousand! For a pair of black sandals! The next thing was Nine West. Same price range. Other variations can be found in upscale local shoemakers, but there's always something wrong --- the wedge is too high, the wedge is too low, there are studs, the band is too thin, etc.

The irony is, those sandals are so plain and simple but I cannot seem to find them. If I did they would be too expensive. The closest and the cheapest one I saw is at Charles and Keith. BUT --- Liz already bought the same pair.

The shopping trip this afternoon I realized that I had been looking for that pair for years. Okay, maybe for about two or three years. I always enter a store and look for it, it's automatic. And then I wouldn't find it. But something else would catch my attention, hence, explaining why I have those shoes I haven't worn.

It's like in this continuous search for that pair has led me to settle for something else. These something elses, well, I like them, but they are not truly what I want. They are mere accessories. And yes, let's say that maybe I would be happy with that Cole Haan pair which, frankly, is too much for me. I saw the same pair at Charles and Keith this afternoon --- the store was on sale but the shoe wasn't. It's not that expensive, it was about Php 1600, but still, too expensive for me for a pair of sandals.

I debated getting the one in Charles and Keith but I thought, if I could afford this, maybe I can wait a bit and buy the pair that I really want which, when I really think about it, I'll probably find in the imported designer shoe stores. Or maybe there will come a time I wouldn't mind buying my own Cole Haan.

And then it hit me: is this pair of sandals like the mythological "man of my dreams"? Which explains why I cannot find the sandals and I do not have the man of my dreams? Have I put on a pedestal this simple pair of shoes that I can't find it? Have I idealized this "man of my dreams" bit which, when I really think about it, should not be fussed about too much? Why do the things that I like I only find in the movies? How come such a simple concept so hard to become real?

I also thought, like this thing called dating, do we initially pick the so-so men before we really ready ourselves for the real thing? This idea occurred to me --- if only I'd save the money instead of buying those shoes, I could easily afford the Cole Haans. Only one pair, but the one I want. I have severals pairs, well, they are not the best, but my feet get to know them. If I didn't waste my energy in these "so-called-mistakes", am I guaranteed that I am really, really saving myself for the right one?

Like dating, this afternoon, I did not want to push myself and decided to have fun instead. I selected another pair. The shoes were there, alright, but I thought if I got the Charles and Keith it would be too easy. It looks the same, it's cheaper, and it's a great imitation. And somebody else who is close to my heart already has it. I do know what I want, but at this point, it is not within my reach yet. I am not going to settle for less. There are other shoes in the shoe store, and these blue flats I got, with the very pointy elf-like toes and embedded gem, is so pretty my feet are singing. It may not be what I was looking for, but it is quite a find.

Who knows? Maybe this is what my feet have been looking for.





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And Then the Bride Slapped the Groom

(Note: Originally posted in my Facebook Slate)

Years ago, I was an active blogger. Truth be told, some people may think that what I blogged about was total nonsense. There were days I was incredibly cryptic that Haruki Murakami may even end up scratching his head trying to decipher between the hints, and there were those days I sounded like Bridget Jones on paper. Of course there were the days I was angst-ridden, the days I was paranoid, the days I was quoting left, right and center, and days of pure honesty. It was nonsense, but I was vulnerable, very much NOT in a victimized manner.

There were also the years that I actually made friends with those I found online, or those, say, who "friended" me. And truth be told, blogging is shrouded by myths. You get to meet fellow bloggers, you also manage to get involve in blogbantering, and yes, bloghooking-upping. In some cases, like one of my blog friends, she found love via blogging. Maybe somehow, inscribing thoughts via the virtual platform further paves the way for some cosmic matchmaking, no? People go to the movies and watch TV, and their minds are then inscribed with the love stories of Bridget Jones, Carrie and Big, and maybe, Hannah Montana. Love stories, like making a film, is so easy to make yet so hard to manifest. And there are now the different possible medium --- celluloid, digital, viral. When you really think about it, the possibilities are endless. The point is, find a partner and work on singing the same song, making the same masterpiece, writing the same message (or maybe blog entry. Hahaha.)

Let's see, shall we?

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I somehow just stopped writing. I don't know. I guess in the past months --- or say last year --- I had this need to keep to myself. Or not to be bothered too much with my online persona (though frankly, such persona can be considered pretty transparent). I probably got sick and tired of myself, blogging almost the same things, which, when you really think about it, further proves we are who we are. However, I probably stopped because I wanted to experiment with this thing I read in some guy's blog a few years ago, that when someone stops blogging, he/she found someone. Or putting it in another context, if someone starts to disappear from your life, he/she found someone else. Tee-hee. So yeah, I figured, if I stopped blogging, the someone will come.

The point is, as based on this experiment, I therefore conclude that whether you stop or continue bogging, someone will come, and someone will leave. Eventually and finally, someone will stay. The world keeps turning.

Well, in this entry I want to write about this blog buddy I met years ago via my old blog. She's older than me, but those few years ago, when we were obviously younger, we were giggling like girls, dropping comments about what she dubbed as the Vespa Seduction Plan (because she had a Vespa then and there was someone to seduce) and the creation of a Shag Map. She also checked on me when I met this ... okay, I am NOT going to mention that, haha.

Anyway, since I stopped blogging, I didn't hear any news from her for months. And since I suddenly had this impulse to visit my old blog, I suddenly wanted to know how she's been. And she's married.

Of course I am aware of their love story, which is a blogging kind too (meaning they met via blogs. Dammit, maybe I should start blogging again?). And I knew that he proposed while they were probably drunk in some pub, and they were to wed. And they did. And I just saw some of the wedding photos online in which apparently they pulled some kind of a Britney Spears/Kevin Federline drama where they initially told everyone it was an engagement party since they didn't really have one as they were living in Indonesia (she's a development/aid worker, he's a... I dunno. Researcher? Phd candidate?).

Anyway, it seemed like a lovely wedding. She was wearing this Chinese blouse (as she is) and pants, and he's just wearing this... shirt that nomadic expat guys wear when they're in hot climate (okay, so it's probably widely worn in South Asia by South Asians, haha). It took place in their home country, Australia, in some botanical garden with a lake, and there was a small band, tents, and their friends wore casual wear. One guy was wearing skinny purple pants. The cake was baked by the groom's mother, and it's brown. Some of them were barefoot. They had beer and they played cricket afterwards. It was so informal that she posted a photo where it seemed like she was about to slap her groom.

I like this kind of weddings though unfortunately, I hadn't experienced anything of this set-up. Everything here is so... grand. Even those that take place in the provinces. It's so... formal. Rehearsed. Everything needs to look perfect, as my friend pointed out, weddings only happen once.

But isn't a lifetime that people look forward to, not just that single day?

I guess it really is up to taste. Frankly, my favorite movie weddings took place in Sex and the City --- where Miranda and Steve got married in this small garden in New York which they found whilst walking, with the "reception" in this small bistro --- and Carrie and Big in City Hall, and their reception food were pancakes and bacon. Even my friend Liz would tell me that one day, she'd just surprise me and tell me she's already married. No fanfare. Well, maybe afterwards as people here would demand, "You're not even going to hold it in a church?!!!"

The funny thing is, I have this three main set of really dear friends (as probably everyone does) who fall in these stereotypes that evidently also influence my thinking: my high school friends from Catholic school, my friends from UP, and friends I met in various projects and meetings who are mostly artists, actors, filmmakers, writers, environmentalists, backpackers, semi-activists, semi-socialites, etc. Of course, the high school friends are getting married off; one of them got married last weekend, and I wore this pink floor-length gown which I was going to pair with purple heels. One of them is getting married next year, one of them is almost as good as married, oh, and yeah, two of them are already married, with one now with a kid. College friends --- we're pretty screwed up, which means we're like the Sex and the City / Bridget Jones women who constantly find ourselves in, say, dysfunctional and questionably romantic situations, and post-college friends ---- a mixture of happily married/engaged/paired off straight and gay couples (in the U.S.), single mothers, and incredible Angelina Jolies still searching for their Brad Pitts. It's a good life.

Maybe among friends getting hitched seems like a race, which I can prove many times over as between conversations and reunions, there is always that guessing game who is going to get married next (and Liz just told me during our long text conversations that I am not going to be next in our small group of friends). Not that I am complaining (though in my old blog there are those moments I'd constantly complain about it), but I think it's fun to look at such circumstances. Maybe I am in this race, but I still have questions about the prize, the prize being sharing a great life with the man who is perfect for me.

I just like to think of my friend, her new groom, and their history. There were seduction plans in this one, alright, but the point is, they both worked hard. She's found someone to create a shag map and build a vegetable patch with. Hence, there is the possibility. I also like to think that it is possible that come wedding days, they can be small and simple that when the bride slaps the groom, there is a private joke in it.






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"and Yes I said Yes I will Yes"

(Note: This was originally posted in my Facebook's Slate)

I was made aware of James Joyce's Ulysses was when I was browsing through Microsoft Encarta probably in the late 1990s, probably when I took a break from that interactive trivia game I was addicted to; as a digital encyclopedia on CD-ROM, it had bits where certain passages from novels and poems are read outloud. And of course, this part from Ulysses threw me off, like a call out from a personal Holy Grail. And who does not want to miss this:

...and yes I said yes I will Yes

Imagine how sensual the lady voice-over pronounced each syllable, and how she reached the climactic Yeses! Imagine how boggled I was trying to figure out how such affecting line may not be grammatically correct! You want to know what or who she is saying yes to! A yes to what, who the bloody cares, I want to be able to say that kind of YES!

But I shall have a chance. The dares to myself do not end yet. Maybe in some audition I will do this monologue and have the casting director, director, producer and spectators jump out of their seats as I start with, "I was a mountain flower..." and they will say Yes to my Yeses!

Last night I have finally finished Danny Wallace's Yes Man. Now this book is what I'll call a Significant Coincidence. I was stood up (for a meeting), and that bloody arse who made me drive like a madman all the way from suburban north to metropolitan Makati should be thankful that I was in a jolly mood. And I hate wearing heels for no reason. But anyways, I was not as upset (though pissed) that I ended up in Powerbooks. Yes, I am that kind of girl who goes to bookstores when disconcerted or incredibly annoyed --- my (future) husband is going to love me for finding bags of books instead of Manolos and Jimmy Choo shoes in the closet. Don't be surprised if I opened a library in the future.

Although I consider James Joyce's Ulysses as a personal Holy Grail --- note that I looked for it for years, and now I have it since 2003, I haven't even cracked it open yet --- Danny Wallace's Yes Man, I must say, is my current inspirational source. So FINE, I have recently browsed through some Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus texts (haha), but Yes Man made me want to say Yes More.

It is quite obvious what the book is about. Danny Wallace, through a Significant Incident, met a man on a bus who somehow suggested that he should "say Yes more". And so the experiment started --- he would Say Yes to everything! Until the year ends!

Of course it would turn into an interesting adventure --- he'd become a nurse, a minister, ended up in Amsterdam looking for a man named Albert Heijn (haha!), and he even exchanged numerous correspondence with the son of a Sultan from a Middle Eastern country who needed to transfer billions of dollars into his account. He also found himself hanging out with random people and got an undeserved promotion at the BBC. And he's impulsively gone to Stone Henge, Barcelona, Singapore, (almost) to the Stone Henge replica in Texas, and then to Australia, to go after the woman he loves who lives Down Under. Si a Todo!

Well, it's not like I am going to say "Yes" to everything. I guess this book has somehow opened my mind about the possibilities that are available to you, if only you won't turn them away. Don't wait for opportunities to happen, make them from the smallest, 'inane' things! And from there, things will fall into place. Who knows, you might say yes to a little thing, and eventually, it will lead you to something significant. So who cares if some of the Yeses do not result to significant things? The point is, you get to say Yes and you put your foot at the door of a possibility. So if someone would ask me, "Do you have time to join our group's 2-hour Bible discussion?" Why not! I may get inspired! I will learn things and understand people who go to these things. It's also called networking! Some of them may even have that audition I have been looking for! It's better that something happened instead of you moping around, grumpy that your job sucks, etc.

And so it goes. And to begin, I just said Yes to a couple of projects due in a few days... in addition to tons of projects I need to finish before the week ends. I, Yasmin, am living up to the Yessence.

Ah, progress.

But then the power of choice is intriguing, no? The power of the Yes and the power of the No. Which direction shall the pendulum swing to?

I hate to say this but I am starting to think along the scientific lines. Magnetism. Does the positive force attract only the negative ones? Or does the positive force merely affects the behavior of the negative particles?

Ah, si. And I just said yes to a friend request from a stranger.


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Precautionary Measures, Pattern Recognition

(Note: This was originally posted in my Facebook's Slate)

This thought ran in my head during the time I was in the middle of my recent adventures: how come I keep slipping and seem to meet small accidents? How come years ago I would just take a step on a boulder, on a patch of grass, foot into a running stream, and did not even experience slipping or losing my balance? Does age have anything to do with it or did my hesitation take away my concentration? Or too much concentration --- thinking --- led to my hesitation?

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I was in Camiguin about a few months ago and almost slipped on boulders while canyoning. I was also in Palaui Island in Cagayan Valley about a month ago and managed to slip on shallow streams. I have climbed the second highest mountain in the country, and probably a significant portion of the climbing I had to use my butt and crawled my way up on a horizontal trail. During my spelunking adventure in Sagada I also almost fell into a hole that would lead to the unknown when, again, I lost my balance on a slippery limestone.

I am not sure if those were just signs that I have become accident prone over the years, but really, why do these things happen when I start to tell myself, "DO NOT SLIP!!!"

I started this mental dialogue in some mountain in Camiguin leading to the Katibawasan Waterfalls and confronted myself that I was not like this years ago. Years ago there was so much trust in my every step: cross a river, hop on a series of rock formations, my feet grabbing the earth with no fail. There was no fear. I trusted the elements around me, and if I fell, I did not have to think of the fall, I got up and moved on. This time --- with life experiences somehow concocting a mixture of conflicting knowledge not necessarily leading to useful personal wisdom --- I would think of every step, tell myself not to fail, and if I did, I would think about it and strategize.

I hate to say this, but what's happened to me? I have written articles on strategic planning and I have read materials on risk management --- how come if I applied them in my life I seem to always end up on my ass? How come the anticipation leads to the manifestation? Is this proof that "The Secret", which I have seen out of curiousity, is actually true (tee-hee)?

I read somewhere --- in an Oprah magazine I guess, haha --- that people do not behave randomly but rather their behavior is based on what has always worked for them. For instance, some people may have seen that indifference work for them, so voila --- unless such inaction does not work for an important situation, they will continue to be indifferent. It 's like Darfur and Africa --- yes, I think I read this in an Oprah back issue I bought the other day --- the apathy that the world has shown may be due to this thing called psychic numbing. There's a difference between a tragedy and statistics. Put a face on an event and it matters, but if the numbers are brought in, it's just another headline, a fact. Such attitude towards things may be a means for people to keep from experiencing grief, which is why, I hate to say this, psychic numbing has worked for a lot of people.

I guess I like to think that psychic numbing is an innate precautionary function among humans. We tend to protect ourselves from getting hurt and find means to keep ourselves together. It may be an individual thing: people taking a more indifferent approach at life and putting less value in things that may hurt or fail them, or it can be collective, like religion. People find a fall back for the sum of all their fears. They arm themselves with knowledge and a certain attitude. Like my mom and superstitions --- she told me before it wouldn't hurt to believe them. Which is why I kept doing the sign of the cross every time I would take a bath, and I think it only stopped when I was thirteen when I thought, "What if I didn't this time?"

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just did things without thinking too much about it. Ignore the hesitation. Hop lightly on rocks like Tolkien's elves. Frankly, it is easier to be held back than to dare and do ... but being held back has not put miles into my personal journey, no? I wondered if I just kept moving and not think too much maybe I'd put more value on the movement rather than the process itself. Because my personal process is innate. In my quest to be "normal", I think I am going to have to concede to the truth that I am not a person that runs on management paradigms. It works for some people, but in my case, I don't think it does for me.

Or maybe I am also running on a personal strategy which is basically understanding life more in order for me to live it fully according to my own terms. And a spontaneous girl that I am I should not fight against my schema.




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The Spotless Mind Debate

(Note: This was originally posted in my Facebook's Slate)

What I love about Charlie Kauffman and Michel Gondry's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is that the premise of the film is essentially true. People want to forget things, people want to forget people. And in the film, there is the solution: go to Lacuna, Inc. and have your memory erased. Strip your life off any traces of the thing you want to forget. It's a tedious process and technically, as how Todd Wilkinson's character put it, the process itself is brain damage. I really love how that conversation in the film went between Jim Carey and Wilkinson. It was funny, yet as-a-matter-of-fact. Like getting slapped by the truth. Of course, in the end, the film concludes that maybe, forgetting is not the solution. This is then followed by Beck's croon, "Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime" at the closing credits. People make decisions, people take risks. The point is, you'll never know what you're going to get. How I wish I have a box of chocolates instead.

Last year I experienced this one-of-a-kind drama where I almost ended up hitting a truck. It was a stupid incident, but the point is, it was one of those situations where it would be better if I had forgotten. For someone who can be quick at burning bridges, I was surprised that I was not totally over this thing that happened a few years back. The time between that day in August of 2007 and those days in August 2005 I thought I emerged from the experience unscathed. But then, maybe I didn't. Maybe I was just in denial the entire time which is why one day, when I got slapped by truth, I opened my eyes and ended up driving throughout Manila incredibly upset. It was also the best time to get a tattoo because I had to divert the pain inside into something physical. I hate to say this, but the pain on my skin liberated me. But I must say, that was a critical lesson learned. Never again.

I wish I could say in confidence that such things will not happen to me anymore. It's hard to say. Ironically, a few months after, I found myself in a very similar situation. I might justify that that time it was different, but when it ended, which happens to be my present by the way, I find the unknown stretched before me and I find myself in this state of uncertainty. In order to prevent another drama, I have consciously slapped myself with the truth. I am taking the initiative. I wish I can be emotionally unattached. But I am a woman and I am not a jerk.

For the past 12 hours I have received very good advice from outsiders. I have slept on it and thought about it. See, it's all about the mindset. It's really not in the forgetting, it's a major shift as to how you see yourself in the situation. It's a response to the lessons learned, not a reaction. Frankly, it's easier said than done. It means going some stages back. In order to move on, one must go back. Like when you get lost, you retrace your steps. In order to get there, you need to know which parts where you made the mistakes, which forks you missed and should have taken, which direction to look at.

I woke up this morning with my finger on the reset button. It's hard, but I might as well. Then again, I think of the possibilities of a clean slate. I am not going to forget, but I am not going to be resentful. Yes, everybody's gotta learn sometime. Because when the right experience comes along, I want to be able to look forward and say, "I want to be new to you".




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Reflections of a Frustrated Traveler and Nomad

(Note: Originally posted in my Facebook Slate)

I just saw this documentary on the National Geographic Channel on a family of nomads/shepherds in Iran (I think it's a part of the "Top 30: Last Chance Journeys" program). In the documentary, I saw a very fascinating landscape of mountains, rough terrains and trails, fields of poppies, streams and their herd of hundreds of sheep; I didn't really think that Iran would be this beautiful. This family, as led by the father, is about to move north to Kakan from Garmsir since that summer has set in. The migration will take months and higher altitudes, but despite those, their destination holds their preferred pastures. Its' their home during the summer, and they make a 180 degree turn before the snow falls. They travel about 15-20 kilometers per day, on foot and on donkeys. They worry about robbers on the road who are now equipped with vans and can now steal about 70 sheep. The landscape is fascinating but it's a tough journey.

I have to admit every time I see such documentaries I feel really envious. I've seen those who have managed to join Mongolian nomads, those who have lived with fishermen and farmers, and those who have disappeared into their chosen societies, living the life they truly want. I admit as a city girl, all I can do is travel, and the idea of becoming a part of such journeys and everyday life will be difficult. As a girl also raised in a society that usually sees a radical sabbatical is irrational, it is also hard to get out of the rat race despite my continuous efforts.

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Somehow, I thought of my travels and the treatment I received as a traveler. Here in the Philippines, I am the girl from Manila. I don't speak other local languages other than Tagalog. When I travel I also become the source of income. I have been ripped off and treated as a tourist. I was constantly required to hire a guide even though I didn't really need one. When I went to Sagada a few months ago, I was scolded on my way to the Bomod-ok Falls because I managed to get there without a guide and renting a jeepney, just like how the tourists would usually do it. It's not that I prevent them from earning tourism income, it's that in that instance I did not find it necessary. After getting scolded at, I encountered a local woman and when she found out that I was from Manila, she accused Manilenos for thinking that the Igorot (the locals of Sagada) have yet to outgrow their tails. My jaw couldn't resist from dropping in bewilderment.

I also had this interesting realization. When I traveled in other parts of Asia, I was also treated as a tourist. In Vietnam I got ripped off by this cyclo operator, in China, you couldn't help but give in to the local tour operators due to the language barrier. In Bangkok, a tu-tuk driver begged me and a friend to at least feign interest in the wares of the shops where he forced us to make a stop since, apparently, bringing in potential customers meant fuel coupons for them. I did not have to complain; despite the hassles, I got to visit too many temples in the city for 10 Baht. Why not.

And then I remember the time I went to Europe. Now this time it was different. I was very much left alone. However, I did get some attention since I was this Asian girl who was lugging two suitcases between stops in the U-Bahn who also did not know how to operate the doors. The guy behind my favorite grillery would always keep himself from laughing everytime I would order bratwurst mit pommes ... in German. I also got attention on the Dutch railway when I followed my Dutch friend who put a foot up on the seat across, and the conductor handed me a newspaper to cover the seat I was obviously spoiling. In Europe, finding myself mostly alone, I was not a tourist. I merely disappeared and floated over the experience. A French ground stewardess in Charles de Gaulle refused to speak to me in English when I asked her how to get to the next terminal without suddenly finding myself in a secret passage to Leonardo's supposed secrets at the Louvre. I was tempted to say, "Are you some kind of moron? Why the fuck are you working in an international airport --- in a Western European country at that --- if you don't speak English, you French bitch?" Now that I think about it, I should have said those words. She wouldn't understand anyways.

At 29, I feel pressed for time. I haven't seen much of the world. I want to go to Iran and join for one season the dwindling number of nomadic families traveling north-south-north. I want to go to Mongolia and live in yurks for a few weeks. I want to spend time with Korean monks living in isolation in lakes, like that monk in that wonderful Kim Ki Duk film. I want to understand more the mysteries of the Mayan civilization, the Easter Island, the Galapagos. I want to pretend to be Gandalf's lost apprentice in New Zealand. I want to float on the Amazon and try those unheard-of concoctions. I want to go to Africa and spend time with the children with disease and ailments, I want to volunteer and help the victims of calamity in China and Myanmar. I want to walk on icebergs and chase the geysers in Iceland. I want to go to the Wailing Wall and see if I am allowed to wail too. I want to get high on the poppy fields of Afghanistan, I want to remain calm in that temple in India where rats are gods. I want to get married in Tibet.

Financial-wise, I need to be incredibly rich in order to do these things. Despite the fact I earn an income that is, say, pretty decent, I still can't afford to do all these things. It will take years. Ironically, my friend, who works as a waitress in an Irish pub Berlin, can afford to spend two months traveling in Asia and chilling in Thailand without that much care in the world. Global and social realities, man. No wonder Filipino professionals --- doctors, lawyers, etc. --- study nursing just so they can move West. I wonder if the demands of their life in the other hemisphere will allow them to really enjoy their travels.

Well, what else can I say. I am thankful for the stuff I see on TV. Thankful that I have National Geographic, the Discovery Channel, and even The Amazing Race. And maybe a taste for foreign films. Maybe by the end of the year I'll get to at least visit some of these places. Though unfortunately, as a "tourist" with funding and visa restrictions, I may get stuck in the city and can only afford to stay for a few days ... because I need to go back and work.

But who knows? Maybe I will eventually write my blog entries here in the middle of a journey, between borders and seasons, and a part of something really different.

Going back to the documentary, the head of the family shared that he's been thinking of selling his herd, buy a house and settle. Although this may seem it diminishes the romance in the idea of the nomadic life, I don't see anything wrong with that. I think real travelers do not just go around for the purpose of getting lost in a different environment and learning about new things. I think what goes with traveling is the searching. Finding something that is permanent, in any form from any place in the world, is the real reward.



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