thanks to extra joss, a sleepless night, and a lot of other "rambling" agents

just came home from a night-long shoot. the third in what's bound to be four consecutive nights.

the past four days have been, somehow, dappled by bright spots. faint ones, most of them nothing to present any potentially bright possibilities (except for, well, personal growth) in the near future, pero bright pa rin. somewhat. i don't know. maybe these really are just vulnerable, "susceptible" times for me. haha.

random lessons from the past ten days:
1. that fifty page "homework" (aka Script Continuity Breakdown) has been serving me well. i should make it a point to do one for every project hereon. makes life a lot easier.
2. the key to getting the job done right: mentally note every possible key detail in a shot and imprint them in memory. short term will do, at least. then take notes.
3. oh, and yeah, think of editing in mind. that's The Big Reason why the concept of "continuity" exists. knowing where a shot will be placed in the context of the edited movie spells the difference between doing one's job right and needless nitpicking.

sigh. am i boring you now? i'm looking to learn more. but after this indie project, i do fervently hope that the next indie project that will come will see me directing it. then maybe, a year or two from now, magkikita na lang kami ni Current Crush sa Toronto/Sundance/New York. Haha. By then I'd be able to act and treat him normally, sans the stick-in-mah-ass demeanor. and who knows, baka nga by that time he'd be over the Ex and see me differently. ha! ha!! ha!!!

of course, as of now my Toronto/Sundance/New York-bound feature film still hasn't even seen the light of preproduction. and i'm still the stick-in-mah-ass stiffy whom Current Crush wouldn't even give a second glance (except, maybe, to ask if Main Actor had a bruise for the scene to be shot, or the duration of a take as per my timer). i'm just the girl-with-the-script on the set, the youngest chick around with the Tiger Look to ward off all unwelcome givers of untowardly pseudo-amorous attention. of course, the apple of his eye is still that blonde Caucasian woman with the upturned nose and Brit-Bitch hauteur. who, coincidentally, is already getting comfy--behind-the-scenes--with one of our Main Crewmen. haha. so early on in the day and i'm getting to be the beeyatch again. hmm, di kaya tama si Frog Princess?

hay hay hay, ganyan talaga ang walang tulog.

so enough about shoptalk. enough about the boring stuff. shallow, after all, sometimes even equates to an interesting read.

i'm a sucker for the unattainable. i don't even know why. ewan kung nagkakataon lang o talagang gusto ko lang na pinapahirapan ko ang sarili ko. hindi ko naman masabing i'm in it because i want to be "challenged"; i am, sadly, not a born flirt and that fact alone makes it difficult enough for me as is, dealing with matters-of-the-proverbial heart. i show the opposite of what i really feel. it's either that, or i'm completely transparent. and when the latter is the case, incidentally i unwittingly reveal myself to the disinterested person. haha. tragicomic.

like now. again. duh. why can't i handle these things with finesse. i feel like a bumbling pubescent each time. the longer i linger on his nicer traits, the more i realize that i am falling into my old ways again. Totally unattainable, honey--not because he's gay (haha, not this time, thank God) but because i don't think he'd go for the likes of me.

and those who would go for the likes of me are the ones i wouldn't go for. the irony is so cliche it's the stuff of teenybopper paperbacks. ano ba. ilang taon ka na ba?!

the longer i linger on his nicer traits--his silent, soft-spoken, genuinely pleasant nature; the comic way he sounds whenever he attempts to speak Tagalog; the amiable mold of the nearly androgynous face--the more i realize that i'm starting to sail into potentially dangerous waters. don't go there, honey. "Unattainable" flashing on red. you'll only feel bad when the inevitable Moment of Truth comes. like how you always do.

oh well. this will blow over. like how each and every case does. yes, life is that predictable. he's still in love with Miss Blonde Brit Bitch anyway. and my work will always come above and before everything else.

but the future scenario of our next encounter at Toronto/Sundance/New York still remains a delightful possibility.

haha!

jekyll-hide dialogue on a cranky night

3 am. i'm sitting on the railway tracks at the Sta. Mesa station, fighting off sleep and fatigue from the drastic change in the work schedule. the director is out of sight, huddled in some dark alley out there with the two kid actors. he's been motivating them for more than thirty minutes now--the longest he's ever done. ho-hum. right on front of me, by the by, the cinematographer and his team have been busy nitpicking on just about every shaft of light and shadowfall in this semi-noirish little nook that is the set. they've been at it for almost an hour now.

big yawn. what's with them? what's taking everything so long tonight?

before the radical transformation from Owl to Lark, i was a lot more comfy working at night. i used to be most alive between midnight and four pee-em. but now that I've come to be a Day Kind of Person i found myself getting a bit cranky last night. quietly cranky, but cranky still.

sigh.

and so i was split. like jekyll and hyde. and nobody even knew about it. haha.

Scenario 1: A couple of crewmen won't quit friggin making papampam.
Beeyatchy Me: T***a, I wish these crewmen would stop. Pag di to makuha sa tingin makakatikim talaga ang mga to ng salita e.
Rational Me: Umiral na naman ang OA na anti-sexist tendencies mo. Spare yourself of the ugly feelings. Ganyan lang talaga ang mga yan sa kahit sinong script con/production assistant/makeup artist na babae, but you know they're harmless naman.
Beeyatchy Me: (stubbornly) Basta. Nagtatrabaho ako, hindi ako nandito para lang barubalin ng mga sexist brutes na yan. (puts on tiger look)

Scenario 2: A setman has placed a prop in the wrong position.
Beeyatchy Me: Ano ba naman tong si (name of Setman), isasabit pa kami pareho sa continuity ng set. Dapat may teddy bear sa ibabaw ng bag e.
Rational Me: Kaya ka nga nandyan para bantayan yun e. And no one's perfect...most especially you.

Scenario 3: Director has forgotten to add an insert shot of an important detail in the scene.
Me: (to direk) Aren't you going to shoot an insert of the phonebook?
Direk: Oh...yeah! (to cinematographer) Wait, we have one more shot. (to me) Thank you.
Beeyatchy Me: (silently) Ano ba direk. Is this your first movie?
Rational Me: Again, kaya ka nga nandyan para magpaalala di ba. Is this your first movie?

Scenario 4: Current Crush's ex is hovering by the set.
Beeyatchy Me: I know it's totally irrational, but I don't like her.
Rational Me: You're right. It's totally irrational.
Beeyatchy Me: What did he see in her?!
Rational Me: Well let's see...1) she's got blonde hair, 2) she doesn't keep an out-of-touch/walled-in composure whenever he's around, 3) she treats him like a normal person, and 4) she knows how to make a guy feel special; i.e. flirt. she has everything you don't, poor loser.
Beeyatchy Me: Big deal. (surveys girl's seemingly hawk-like, Brit-Bitch stance) I still don't like her.
Rational Me: Oh, quit it. Get back to work.

back on the opposite side...but not quite

On the other hand, there's something else that's bothering me.

It shouldn't, but it does. Because, well, these are vulnerable, susceptible times.

For the record, though, I should only remind myself why I can't/musn't.

1. I love my work too much to compromise it. Can't risk distractions.
2. I highly doubt that it would do me more good than harm.
3. I take into heavy consideration the remarkable wisdom in Sandara Park's words: (altogether now...) "Walang Sabit!"
4. And, while this might sound like getting ahead of things (that will NEVER happen anyway), i know that my mom would never approve. Ever, if ever.

Go to get to work now. We're shooting all night. Taking in just about as much coffee and sleep as I can to prepare for another day.

the other side

Now I know how it feels to be on the "other side of the fence", so to speak.
And it appalls me. Rude, I know.
So maybe that was how he felt whenever I'd sing those mymp songs.
Now that I know, I realize that I cannot really blame him.

Week One (an ironically boring title)

We just wrapped Day 7 of our 4-week shoot for the new indie film project. Not a bad week--shoot normally starts at 7 am everyday and pack up at sundown. That and the fact that we're actually ahead of our projected schedule makes it somekinduva miracle in my eyes; I've been used to the gruelling, ngaragan schedules of local movie shoots.

But these past seven days were amazingly light. Knock on wood. It even cured me of my insomnia. Now I wake up at 3 in the morning and go to bed at 9. Wonderful, huh. Never thought I could ever turn into a lark again. Now I'm usually up even before the sun rises.

It's one of those blessings, and more. Knock on wood, and thank God. If I weren't so tired right now I might even be tempted to say I'm happy. Maybe I am, but it really is too early to judge the experience. Sana lang talaga things will remain the way they are, or even better. I will never tire of saying that.

After three movies (one and two "halves", actually--one full movie as script continuiy supervisor trainee and then flying solo for the latter part of two movies--it's only now that I'm getting to concentrate on the nature of my job. It's kinda technical for the non-film worker so I won't go into details of those (or maybe I will...later) but it should suffice for me to say that it's basically about concentration and memory. Well, probably too vague, but believe me, it really is all about that, and it's kinda funny that I would only come to understand its very essence AFTER the first three movies. Guess I was unwisely dispersing my energies on so many different roles in my past three projects (assistant director, crowd director, heck even crowd control!) Halleluiah, if there's one basic thing I've learned from the past seven days it's about mastering your main function first before dabbling in that of others. That's why you're there and that's what you're getting paid for.

So while I would've opted playing "director to the extras" or even shouting "quiet please" in my last three projects, now I leave those tasks to others who are getting paid for it. At least that's fair enough--for me, the others, and MY main function. Ah, how beautiful it is, knowing what you're meant to do. And how to do it.

We've been shooting the film in one of the most beautiful milieus I've seen--the Sta. Mesa Railway area. The place is so rich when it comes to local texture. So full of character, screams out Third World Poverty. If I weren't so tired I would've attempted to describe it as vividly as I had seen it. Maybe next time. I'm actually so tired right now I'd rather end this entry here, even if there's so much to tell.

So much to tell, and I've only been there for seven days. I pray that the next twenty days would see me telling only happy, wonderful things. I believe I will.

oops, i'm at it again

* after my 8-month hiatus from the movies, i'm back on the field. and it may not pay much but it feels right. knock on wood. 3 days down, 24 to go. i'm praying that everything will go just the way they are...or even better!

* after several weeks of self-administered therapy, i'm singing those stupid, inane, mushy-as-hell, makes-me-wanna-kick-myself mymp songs again. this time around though, i'll let it die a natural death. experience has taught me two things about myself when it comes to feelings: 1) forced suppressions never work, and 2) these things, no matter how intense, never really last. outtasight, outtamind!

* i don't know what's the matter with me, but the coincidence is uncanny: it seems that with every movie project, i find myself retreating to the, er, Classic Little White Lie. and now i'm at it again. First day pa lang, i somehow managed to fib in front of a bunch of first-time co-workers that i'm blissfully in a relationship with someone. hahaha! what is wrong with me? not that i'm embarrassed about being single (far from it...wouldn't have it any other way kung di rin lang sa taong gusto ko), just that i've found out that proclaiming yourself as "taken" is a somewhat effective way to discourage unwanted attention from certain members of the opposite sex. and this time around, i guess it did.

* in this case, anyway, i didn't volunteer the "information". someone assumed that the picture (of me and a male friend) on my camphone was that of me and The Boyfriend. "gaano na kayo katagal ng boyfriend mo?" The Assumptioner asked in front of about half a dozen leering crewmen (i'm no raving beauty pero ganun lang talaga ang mga manggagawang lalake sa industriya ng pelikula pagdating sa kahit sinong manggagawang babae. proven and tested). now this Assumptioner had "unusual" vibes going on with him from Preprod Meeting 1 onwards ("Assumptionista" na rin ako, fine, but i think we all do sense these things). i was a bit appalled. so when he made the assumption that the guy in the picture was my jowa, found the opportunity to make a polite oblique brushoff: "nine months." i answered him, tongue-in-cheek, not meeting the eyes of anyone in the premises. hahaha. what he didn't know, really, was that the guy in the camphone pic was not only NOT my boyfriend, but NOT into the likes of me as well--he's gay. my ever-convenient "front", when circumstances call for one. hahaha!

* now i feel guilty about it. not only because i lied, but because i, er, used my gay friend without his consent. oh well. i'm sure he'll understand. haha.

dredging out the beeyatchy thoughts

not that yesterday was a depressing day. not entirely.

the happy-hour videoke with college buddy redel was one bright spot, at least. wouldn't you know--all this time the dude had known how to sing. and in his best moments (i.e. rich tenor renditions of "back at one" and "i'll be"), he may just as well give bryan mcknight a run for his money. (all praises ako kasi he's probably gonna be reading this. hahaha!). his repertoire was just strangely depressing, though. reminds me of someone else's.

aha. so that was where the depressing day began.

the last of the good times before i head of for the next adventure. surprisingly, i find myself with a lot of unfinished work in my hands. stuff that i have to finish within the next 48 hours, before the new adventure (loventure? i HATE that word!) begins.

oh dear, the headache's coming back again.

wasn't feeling very well yesterday. physically. my head was throbbing mad (never thought too much videoke could actually give one a headache) and i'd had too little sleep. but the day had to go on til 11 pm. against my will. when the flesh is weak the spirit can give in as well. talking to people through the numbing haze of a
headache was almost surreal. like i was talking underwater. listening underwater. moving underwater.

pain does that to you, doesn't it.

on any ordinary evening, could've gathered just enough energy to be animated enough for the introductory meeting with new "associates" (there's that term again) last night. even with a headache. but something was bothering me all evening, something that wasn't supposed to bother me anymore, not at this point, i've had enough of that haven't i.

but it was there. a splinter in my brain. lurking beneath the folds. a smoldering, bothersome ember of a thought that brought back memories of long-ago shouldve-been-forgotten heartaches.

word gets out. from one's ears to another's. i learned from a friend about what someone has just said about me. not entirely bad, but the bad aspect was just bad enough to overshadow what positive aspects there were. so i took it in the gut. coming from others i wouldn't have take it personally. i wouldn't give a sh**t. but everything concerning that person is personal for me. ironic. because our relationship had never been close to authentically personal in the first place.

when i had learned of what he'd said yesterday i remembered what he had said several months ago. about his impressions of me. that i was the antithesis of the Feminine Sweet, that i was--what was the term?--bitchy. that's so unfair, i ranted to near-tears, just because a girl says her thoughts out loud doesn't make her bitchy, just as being vocal about one's quasi-feminist convictions doesn't make one a man-hater. people make haphazard impressions all the time, i've gotten used to it, but this particular one had hurt me bad.

because of all people, man. of all people who would think of me that way, it had to be you.

at that time i had retaliated silently, on my own, in an oblique, confused way. the next day i chucked the black outfit and dark eyeliner in favor of the Sweet Girl Look. for kicks, even if it felt fake. the day after that the black outfit and eyeliner was back. decided that it didn't matter anyway, if i had the aura of a jessica zafra or a wednesday-friggin-adams. there's no virtue in trying to tone down what strong vibes there are in my personality just to fit the ideals of someone who will never really see me. a crime in the (quasi)feminist's eye.

yesterday all those sentiments came back in a flood. like some dike was just broken. i sat there at the meeting with the new "associates", mentally absent, contemplating on that little ember of thought through the haze of my yosi smoke and a headache.
frustrating, to want to hate someone so much, and be such a failure at it.

it didn't matter anyway, i realized. in the context of the big picture, it's just a detail that won't change the the Truth of the Matter. k, so i HATE the sweet and patweetums. i HATE the male a-holes who ogle and whistle at girls on the streets. i'm not some sunny Marcia Brady. but that doesn't make me a bitch. so to hell with what you think, little miss frog princess.

anyway. not that he did me any wrong. people can break hearts even if they didn't mean to.

what was i thinking, anyway, still thinking about you.

up with the sun

went to bed round midnight last night and woke up this morning at 7.

a miracle.

depression lang naman pala ang cure sa insomnia ko e. heehaw!

how's this for my 24 hours

Yesterday was a long day. And it began at 4 pm.

Kakatawa, no. Nagising kasi ako ng 1 pm. Umatake na naman ang insomnia ko at dilat ako hanggang alas-singko ng umaga. And to think na pinapagdasal ko nang gabing yon na naghihilik na ko by 1 am.

Kaya eto. Isang buong araw sa buhay ni kaladkaring saffron blue. Life's a lot less drab when you go on those spur-of-the-moment sprees every once in a while.

4pm. Libis.
I had hastily put myself together—heavy lids, headache, eyebags and all—and gone to a meeting with jp, a new “associate” (ha, that word sounds dang stiff). After two cups of coffee and a few bites of chocolate decadent, I kinda realized that the real meeting had yet to happen much, much later. owkay. bummer. get me back to my bed, please.

We killed time with chika, chocolate, and coffee while our producer met with some spiffy entrepreneurs at the next table. the place—a country club in one of qc’s poshest subdivisions—was a bit too luxurious for my normal world. the lounge was at the poolside, and the smell of pool chlorine in the air was something that my olfactories had missed in quite a while. that—and the two cups o' coffee--started to wake me up. when we left the place at sunset, I was ready to start my day.

7pm. Pag-asa.
The master plan was for the meeting to be held in Eastwood at 7pm. By 7pm, I found myself in someone else’s house, meeting someone else’s family, in the company of my new "associates" and kitchie nadal’s mom. Aha! so that was one of the reasons why I had risen out of bed this morning--er, afternoon. Kitchie Nadal is a favorite. And the family in that house seemed as awestruck as I was by the idea of meeting the woman who had brought pinoy pop-ternative’s current princess into this world. after much delays and fawnings, we managed to escape at 730, and while you’d think the next destination would be eastwood (finally!), kelangan pa palang dumaan ng abscbn.

8pm. Abscbn.
It turned out that jp had to pick up some posters for the film, ang pagdadalaga ni maximo oliveros (showing on november 30, watch it watch it!) to have them prominently displayed in all branches of his family-owned resto. North-bound edsa traffic was horrible at 8 pm. the barrage of text messages from our eastwood "associates" ("waiting since 7pm, where the hell are you guys??") just about trebled the pressure.

After a not-so-pleasant brush-in with ABS guards who wouldn’t let us into the building (forgot my id and the guards made such a big fuss about it), we finally got the posters. Jp and I ran off to the nearest branch of his resto along Mother Ignacia—a favorite dining spot during my qpids days—and that was when the rest of the evening started to blur.

I saw someone i know having dinner with his friends. The worst person to see at the worst friggin point in this life, but I wasn’t entirely surprised. i had almost felt that he'd be there.

Old habits die hard, after all.

Me: oy. Musta?
Him: oy. (seeing that I was alone. Jp was nowhere to be seen) may binibisita ka dito?
Me: (looking around for jp, flustered) may kasama ko e. (finally saw jp) _________ si jp, friend ni beatlebum (a common friend of ours).
Jp: (laughing) is being beatle’s friend a good thing or a bad thing?
Him: nasan si beatle?
Me: ha? Ayon, magvi-videoke kami mamaya.
Him: mga what time?
Me: mga…1. (he frowns in disbelief) 12.
Him: (smiles) sama naman ako.
Me: (feigning casualness) sama ka. Text ka namin. (turns away, busy-busyhan)

That little chance encounter seemed to have sucked what little energy I had left for the rest of the evening. The lens radically went out of focus. everything that came and went around me—the eastwood meeting, the group dinner—all passed by me in a series of blurs. I hated it. the fact that something so in-passing in the time continuum of my current life could have such an undesirably big impact.

12mn. Makati.
Thank God it would only take another shining moment to bring me back in focus again. At midnight, I found myself in kitchie nadal’s house.

Producer wanted to take kitchie’s mom home before she would drop us off at DISH-ABSCBN, where jp and I were supposed to meet with beatlebum and another friend, monj, to see the spongecola concert. The house was in an apartment compound at the makati suburbs. Kitchie’s mom was a gracious woman; she even asked kitchie to come out (at that unholy hour!) just to say hi to us. Standing before us--wearing her pyjamas, hair carelessly pinned up, face unmade--kitchie was a lovely vision. She’s petite and slender in person, those doe eyes and delicate mestiza features contrasting with the sugar-angst rock chick image. I was momentarily starstruck. While the mom introduced her to each of us, I thought of things to say.


HI, I’M A BIG FAN.

Argh, kitschy.

HI, I LOVE SINGING YOUR SONGS ON VIDEOKE.

Jologs.

HI, I WANT TO DIRECT YOUR NEXT MUSIC VIDEO. PWEDE BA? PLEASE?

Hard sell.

Instead I just stood there gawking at her. She was so cool. If I were lesbian maybe I would’ve fallen in love with her right there and then!

It seemed that kitchie was having a “counselling session” with her Victory Church friends in her room, so she was more than eager to finish the round of “hi’s”. the mom invited us up to the “piano sala” upstairs and played a few love songs. And one of them was kitchie’s “same ground”. Haha! The nerve of me, but i found myself singing to the accompaniment of kitchie’s mom’s piano. couldn’t help it; she did nothing to stop me, anyway.

1 am. Dish-abscbn.
Frantic “where are you” text messages from our friends at DISH finally got us back on the way. EDSA was an expressway at midnight; by 1 am we were at DISH. The crowd—if there had ever been--had cleared and we found beatlebum glumly sitting outside DISH, waiting for lead vocalist Yael (his, erm, sponge idol) to come out of the front entrance. Soon monj joined us, fresh from the men’s room and reeking of vodka (haha, lasenggong monj), and while it was a bit late, videoke was still in the itinerary, no matter what.

After all, wasn’t someone else going to join in as well?

Right in the middle of our second videoke song I got the txt reply. He’d gone home. He was tired. We go have fun. Smiley.

Owkay. It’s just as well. it would’ve taken me days to recover my sanity if he had actually joined in.

Tanga, monj said. Haha. Ang tanga-tanga ko nga. Last night’s videoke was fun, actually. The boys were having fun with each other and I was having fun with the microphone. Oops, that sounds different, putting it that way. Hehe.

I got drunk. Sang screamers. You Oughtta Know. Since You’ve Been Gone. Complicated. Total Eclipse of the Heart. Even the songs that I’d stayed away from, while on so-called therapy. Tell Me Where it Hurts. Especially for You. Haha. One night only. And then we’ll deal with it in the morning.

Normal reaction, the shrink in me says. It was the first time you’ve seen him in, what, a month. The cleancut look was back, the haircut looked nice, you couldn’t reconcile the “hello” smile from the ym-snubbing of two nights ago, but you can’t let a brief back-to-the-old-ways lapse in behavior keep you from getting back in line. Sure, he was every bit as beautiful as you’ve remembered him to be, but the the wall was still there, bluey, and even if it weren’t, nothing about this case could ever change anyway.

Nothing. So stop making it the story of your life.

3 am. Teacher’s village.
We trooped to beatlebum’s apartment after videoke. The boys wanted to watch a coupla downloaded porn films (for harmless kicks, I’m sure. They’re virtual innocents, I’m sure) but even in my drunken state I couldn’t stomach the lurid images. Vomit. So porn was out, another beer was in, more chitchats til everyone just kinda fell asleep on their seats while talking. And to think that I’d thought I knew all there was to know about getting soused, I was in a for a weird occurrence: for the first time in my drunken history, I couldn’t remember much of what I’d said.

Haha. Babbles, most probably. The sorting-out-my-thoughts-aloud kind. Like what I write in this asinine little online diary.

4am. Philcoa.
Another first in a long time: I was barfing drunk. I could actually feel the beer churning inside my head. Alog, alog. A most fascinating, throbbing feeling. I ended up barfing on someone else’s lawn, on the way home. Monj was holding me up while jp was like, euuuw, don’t get any on my shoes. Hahaha! Talk about tumatanda nang paurong. I never did any of these in high school OR college.

5 am. Home.
Retired to bed and kissed the world goodnight just as the sun was rising up. Sigh. I should really change my “fly-by-night”, semi-vampiric ways and join the larks. Because when the shoots start, I’d be forced to wake up at 4 am every single day for 31 days. And I’d want to be in the best working condition possible.

a day in the life

tuesday.
woke up at 10 am this morning. strangely early, considering the early-morning bedtime i had taken on some five hours earlier. aha, i did turn the alarm on, so that was why.

i dreamed of sumptuous sinigang na baboy with loads of fat and flavor simmering in the soup. fine memory to start the day with.

went to the current workplace--that faraway, outta-the-way hole-in-the-wall called Project 6 (hehe) for a scene-per-scene meeting for the movie at 1 pm. after 6 hours--and somewhat exhausting discussions on nearly every bloody detail--we were just about done. sigh. i love my pinoy workmates. getting to mingle with a bunch of americans further reinforces to me the congenial down-to-earth nature of us pinoys. not that our yankee superiors were being a-holes but somehow the air of "superiority" couldn't help but peek out. i'm not around the office much to be able to prove that, but that's what my pinoy work superiors say, at least. given my limited exposure to the americans, i must say that's not so incredible a postulation. i guess first-world condescension towards the third world will always be there.

i know, though, that i tend to fumble with my english when speaking to them. haha! my normal english is articulate enough but somehow i get a bit flustered when in front of them, who have the language as their native tongue. :-P

i hate that faraway office. i always am tempted to take a cab ride home, to dodge rush hour traffic and long hours on the road. i would always be drained.

and come home drained i did. at 9 pm. sigh. am going through the familiar after-sunset depression that would nearly engulf me sometimes. nothing that i want more right now than to be able to sleep early tonight. as in, before 1 am at the latest. i want to be up early tomorrow for another trek to the urban outdoors.

i'm kinda down. :-(

yes i'm taking it personally

Two nights ago I chanced upon someone on ym. Did my usual ym greeting.

Psst. Nu ng chika sa (chorva)?

In response, he signed off.

The last time I said hi on ym he ignored me. Now he signs off. What is his problem?

I was just saying hi! It’s not like I was going to engage him in an actual ym-versation if he ever did say “hi” back. If he were busy he could’ve sent a terse, it-ends-here reply, and I would’ve gotten the message. But no, he just had to sign off. Turn on the “invisible” mode, more likely.

Shouldn’t make a big deal out of this, but I really felt that was rude. Not once in the entire time that I was around him did I do anything to merit such cold treatment. Oh well. It’s just as well.

Thanks for the extra motivation, dude. Like I didn’t have more than enough. I really should evict you out for good.

convalescent

the resemblance was uncanny.

the lips. the smile. the characteristic slump in the shoulders. the shape of the head.

i was struck. stricken. for one mad moment it felt like the doors inside where opening, and all the hazardous, unneeded feelings were being let in. and it felt good, in a bad way. beautiful and painful and liberating and sad all at the same time.

then it was gone. i was back to my senses. made a comic crying face, took a breath, and forced my thoughts away from the matter.

forgetting is a process. i know it won't take overnight. not even three weeks. maybe next week i'll be much much better.

latent mourning period (or a lame attempt at not thinking about it)

Take a hint from the word itself: deadlines can kill you.

Especially the self-imposed ones. Mighty deadly, baby. Not to mention silly.

I'm glad that I'm done, though. My homework--a 25-page sequence breakdown of script continuity concerns for the indie feature film we'll be shooting next week--took me an entire night and a half (Ha-ha, surprise surprise). Not that it was difficult, and that's actually the problem--it was too easy to turn into some kind of gargantuan mission that requires my immediate undivided attention. i was tasked to make it around seven days ago. in between Day 1 and Day 7 I just, well, cruised along, numinu-minooing. Watching CSI. Attending parties. Setting aside the work for later. After all, it was easy, right?

Turns out that the "easy" work demanded hours of nitpicking from me. Literally. Obsessing over whether a blackeye would be purple or greenish by Day4. Nitpicking is boring, mehn. I hate it. Because sometimes I tend to do it without even being aware of it. Gwrrllrlll!

Okay lang. I've been through worse. And the deadline served its purpose--just enough pressure I need to get the work done sooner than photo-finish.

Despite the subtle (subtle ba?) whinings, I don't really mind. Anything for the Big Picture. The literal and the figurative Big Picture. So long as you're seeing your work in the context of the Big Picture, there will be no little (non-creative)(nitpicking)(ho-hum) tasks. I would've gladly picked nits off a monkey if that would help get the (literal) Big Picture done. And given the unpredictable nature of this job, that wouldn't be too far-fetched a thing to happen. Haha!

If it does happen, indeed, at least I'd have something to write about here. Haha. Love this job! The recreation of reality from paper to celluloid, the running and the chasing, the climbing of cliffs, the pursuit of goats, the filming of an elaborate scene in the middle of the sea, the wrapup parties, the ribbing of jesting crewmen, the gorgeous ultranice artistas, the big-screen premiere of a movie that you, as a little pinpoint in the production firmament, have somehow co-created. it doesn't matter how good or bad the end product is. the first-time bigscreen viewing experience has always made me beamin-proud. :-)

sigh. birthday ni uma. sayang si uma. badingerzi. nalungkot akong bigla. :-(

funny eh. my whole entry doesn't seem to have any connection with the entry title. well, except for the fourth to the last sentence. no, i don't dig uma. i've had it with those, erm, dark ages. someday i'm gonna resurrect out of this whole thing.

numinoo minoo-ing at the crack of dawn

halloween, all saints' day, they went by undocumented. gasp.

when i was religiously keeping a personal (offline) journal, i was driven by one personal principle: each day must be documented, to prove that i lived it. i'd had a for-my-eyes-only journal since i was 12--long before this wonder called computer came to my life. alas, that era is slowly coming to an end...thanks to this blog. well, i kinda guessed it might happen. i don't know about you but i just can't keep two journals at the same time. i knew time would come when one will be cancelled out by the other. and so, the emerging victor: this one with the audience. sigh. somehow it's a bit more cathartic, spilling my beans in front of an audience. faceless they might be.

going back to halloween, i just realized (after watching it again for the, hmm, 18th time) that Bram Stoker's Dracula (the one directed by Francis Ford Coppola)is my favorite horror movie of all time. gothic horror reinvented. and the film's a visual feast, from credit to credit.

so Dracula beats out scream 1 on my list. haha. i realized that seeing keanu getting sucked (oops) by vampiresses beats out seeing Rose McGowan getting severed by a garage door.

by the way, Dracula is also in my Top 10 list of corniest romance movies. and gary oldman's "i love you too much to condemn you!" is up there in the league of Jerry Maguire's "you complete me" and Jack Nicholson's "you make me wanna be a better man"-- one of the most irritatingly kilig lines in contemporary hollywood cinema ever.

i hate it!