hours before phil fashion week 09.

I’m really excited for Philippine Fashion Week. It’s going to open today with SM Department Store, Marlon Rivera’s Collection, and Premier Collection A featuring Angelo Estera, Jerome Salaya Ang, Joel Escober, Randall Solomon, Raoul Ramizrez, and Yako Reyes.

I think this year they’ll be broadcasting the shows via ETC. So don’t forget to tune in every 9 pm. Sarah Myers will be hosting it. It’s like getting invites for each and every show.

But I do have one major problem: I don’t have a camera for tonight. Boo.

***

By the way, meet Jack Brennan. His recent projects include Dior Homme and Moschino. He looks thinner than me. See! I have potential.

Photographer: Txema Yeste

i wanna be a supermodel.

Once upon a time, ‘male model’ is synonymous solely to tall, buff men, with rock hard abs complimented with a well chiseled face. We envy them because they cross borders – walking runways and posing for magazines. Marc Jacobs, Calvin Klein, and such became so trivial for them.

But meet the new breed of male models rocking the international scene. Meet Ash Stymest. I think he’s just 17. He is said to be a favorite of Vogue Hommes Japan. Also appearing in other magazines like Electric Youth, Rodeo Magazine Italy, Dazed and Confused, and many more. He’s ranked 13th internationally.

There’s also Josh Beech. Aside from modeling, he’s also the lead singer of the rock back Snish. Find him gracing the pages of magazines like Vogue International, Vogue Italia, and Arena Homme +. Ranked 11th.

Included in this list is 17 year old Luke Worral. He stands 6’ flat and his waist measures 28”! He already appeared in Teen Vogue, Dazed and Confused (Japan), V Man, Arena Homme +, etc. Ranked 19th.

Then there’s Cole Mohr. He already graced the covers of Sportswear International and Arena Homme +. His recent advertisings include Costume National and Marc by Marc Jacobs. Ranked 14th.

In the future, there will be a Marc Siapno, ranked nth internationally. I just need to put on more weight and grow more to reach at least 5’9. But let’s scratch that shiz. I'm kidding. I have a different plan altogether.

***

Philippine Fashion Week Holiday 2009 starts tomorrow! Hoorah!

new one.

Some friends really do that. They call me in the middle of the night to talk about things, or to just wake me up for nothing. I don’t know have problems with that. To some extent, I find it sweet.

Last night, someone was calling me persistently because I wasn’t picking up. When I aswered it, she won’t talk. And when I checked my phone, I realized that I don’t recognize the number. So first thing in the morning, I texted, “Who’s this? Do I know you? You were waking me up last night.” And the reply was, “Ha? Your number is in my BF’s name. Who are you?”

Surprise, surprise. I have a new one (and I don't even know when and how I got her!).

restraint.

Hawak mo na yung sigarilyo, yung lighter nasa lamesa lang. Kapag pinili mong sindihan yan, hindi malabong kasunod na ang isang malalim na hininga at ang paulit-ulit na paghithit. Pagkatapos ng ilang minuto, upos nalang ang matitira. Bigla mong maaalala ang pangako mo sa sarili na titigil ka na. Sasabihin mo sa sarili mo, “promise, yun na yung last.”

Kinabukasan magsisindi ka ulit ng isang stick, tapos sa susunod ulit na araw, tapos sunod-sunod na. Gagawa ka ng mga imbentong dahilan para hindi ka masyadong ma-guilty. Tapos mapapagod ka, sususko, kakalimutan ang lahat.

Kalimitan ganyan din ang nangyayari sa mga New Year’s resolutions, mga diet plans, mga gawa-gawang schedule ng pag-aaral ilang araw bago mag-exam, at marami pang iba. Mahirap ibahin ang nakagawian. Mahirap sumunod. At mas pipiliin mong ituloy-tuloy ang isang bagay na nakasanayan dahil, aminin mo, mas madali kasi.

Sino ba nagsabing hindi mahirap magpigil?

Mas madali manuntok, mas madali magmura, mas madali manakit ng tao. Siguro kung ‘yan pinili ko, iba problema ko ngayon – kung paano ipapaliwanag yung ginawa ko para magtunog na katanggap-tanggap at kung paano hihingi ng paumanhin para ibalik ang lahat na parang walang naganap.

Pero, hindi. Pinipilit kong magpigil kasi ‘di bale na yung mukha kang tanga dahil walang nakaiintindi sa mga kinikilos mo, ‘di bale na ang sakit na ng ulo mo sa higpit ng pagkakakagat mo h’wag lang magsalita, ‘di bale nang kunwari wala pero meron, kaysa gumawa ng mga bagay na pagsisisihan sa huli.

Lahat ng tao maghihintay ng paliwanag. Magmumukha kang masama kung hahayaan mo nalang yung ibang tao na bumuo ng mga posibleng dahilan. Pero kung tutuusin, minsan mas mabuti na yun. Dahil minsan, mas magmumukha kang masama kung magpapaliwanag ka, tapos hindi naman nila maintindihan kung bakit ganun. Tumahimik ka nalang.

Tatahimik nalang ako kasi hindi mo rin naman maiintindihan. Maiinis ka sa akin, pero isipin mo rin na hindi naman aabot sa ganito kung hindi ako unang nainis sa’yo. Ayoko nalang ng gulo. Mas masakit yun sa ulo.

Mahirap magpigil. Kaya sana kayanin kong magtimpi. Hindi ako sisigaw, hindi ako magagalit, hindi ako mananakit, hindi ako makikipag-away. Mag-iiba muna ang lahat. Pupulutin yung lighter na nasa lamesa, magsisindi ng sigarilyo, bibira ng isang malalim na hininga, pagkatapos bubuga.

alfha.

Yesterday, Typhoon Emong passed through land – causing hard rain that betrayed the season of summer. My sneakers got soaked, my jeans were dripping, and my cardigan was damp. I hated my hair. My umbrella was leaking. And when I thought I was already running late, my professor didn’t come to class. Great.

Apparently, my other professor said in advance that we won’t meet that day. He has to fulfill department responsibilities among other things. I remember him saying, with a hint of apology, “I don’t have any problems, other people do.” That left me with nothing to do for the whole day.

The rain made my blockmates disappear, including some friends that I was expecting to be around. I had to thank Trixia for staying for as long as she can. I didn’t want to go home yet, especially when I just arrived at school.

Thanks also to Sir Wendell Capili for allowing me to stay in his class. Never mind that it was already around 6 pm and the class started at 5. That’s also where I found most of my blockmates.

After class, it was time to celebrate – Alfha style. It was her birthday. We had pancit canton. In other words, nagcantunan kami. Nagcantunan kami nung gabi kila Kuya Narry, kung kailan malakas ang ulan, kung kailan basang-basa ang paligid, nagcantunan kami. Masarap siya at nakakabusog, may tinapay pa. Bawal ang malisya.

It was one of those times that everyone was one and as one we had fun. We got wet, but didn’t mind. Everything was conjugal and the threat of H1N1 wasn’t in mind. We laughed, and laughed harder as the rain did. And made flashes from the camera more than the sky could. It was our kind of fun.

We shall party somewhere formally. They promised. Then, we went home high, happy. I was freakin’ happy.

summer rain.

I feel love. The summer rain evokes a feel good vibe – something fresh, bountiful, and, I don’t know, wet? It’s one of those times when it’s best to play your chill out music, make a hearty cup of coffee, and write.

It also makes me want to go out – with jacket, umbrella, and slippers on – just to take time to walk and feel the vacant streets. Maybe to hold hands and use the subtle chill as an excuse to cuddle. Or, use that umbrella to catch and meet a new one.

Today’s rain is a bit shy, a bit gentle. It’s as if it’s showing its own brand of restraint. Summer rain, it really amazes me. This is love. I really want to say, I love you. But everything will be off at this point.

I’m taking my time to watch you, to excite myself of something that doesn’t come too often. I’m learning how to be patient. Rushing is fatal. I should know. This is better because it exploits discontentment and puts it under a good light. This is love and I’m full of it.

Sean is still sleeping on the couch. I want to wake him up. But I realized he’s cuter that way. I poked him a couple of times when I woke up. But he won’t move. He looks like a plush doll. I guess he’s staying at home.

But me, it’s time to get moving. I have class until 3pm and I’m done for the week. I want to go out later. But I don’t know where to go. I want to go out later. But I don’t have anyone to go out with. Maybe we can go out together?

Summer rain makes the brain tick differently. I feel love.

for today.

It’s funny how even at this point I’m still hurting. When I thought Fred took over the emo department for his recent heartbreak, here I am again telling him to vacate my office. Or maybe because I have to be this way to continue the Batac legacy and ensure it’ll live forever.

Honestly, this is disgusting. I think it’s uncalled for. And at best, this is really pathetic. But I probably need this. I have to proceed to a higher level of desensitization, of feeling pain until it hurts no more.

I have thought about this. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have agreed to be friends with you again (even if from the onset this was what I really wanted). I should have changed my number so you won’t be able to reach me anymore. But no, you even had the guts to give me your new number and update me with your life. Something that I regret that I have willfully accepted.

I just wish that you’ll realize that it’s still not fine with me when you talk about your new one. Why? Because I don’t care. The only point when I’ll care about you and the new one, is when your relationship starts to crumble, and me being the good friend that I am, will tell you that it’s fine while I’ll laugh at your back and enjoy this wondrous moment. And then, I start to sound bitter.

Eh bakit ba naman kasi ang hirap ma-achieve ng happiness? Fuck, what a question.

To be fair, I always have the option to pester you back. I know how to, remember? But this is my chance to prove that I’m the better person. I’m taking this chance. I’ll rise above you.

This is enough meditation for today. Imma get busy with a friend. O ‘di naman kaya, magpapabarya nalang ako (na medyo imposible kasi ang elusive ng coins). Or, I’ll just memorize my Shakespeare lines because midterms is on Wednesday (which is like, tomorrow). And I think that’s better.

P.S.: It's not the case of me still in love with you. It's a simple play of shoulds, woulds, and coulds. Come think of it, I was a damn good lover. Self-absorbed, I know. But like a phantasma, you just can't deny it.

P.P.S.: I woke up today happy - yes, a bit hurting, but am sure damn happy.

driving passion.

Passion is an all too powerful drive. It can make you do things you won’t usually do. And most of the time, these things are the same things you’ll regret when passion subsides.

Anger, for example, is a strong feeling of extreme displeasure. When mixed with alcohol, it can cause a husband to hit his wife. Husband gets sober and tells her, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to”. Lust, a strong sexual desire, can push you to screw the one you like. But when you contract STD or get her pregnant, I bet you’ll regret everything. And love, a strong feeling of affection, can enable you to do so many things – even death. But even if you regret things, you know it still stands. The act was done and it can’t be undone.

Control is important. There is a value in restraint. But nobody said it was easy – a line from The Scientist. If everything was, we’ll all be living in a happy world.

Passion is infinite. Control is not. When Control dies, Passion continues. And we’ll go back searching for the person we want to be. When we think we already found the one, we’ll realize that that person is not the one we want to be. Because like Passion, discontentment is infinite.

Oftentimes, we’ll regret Passion. But this thing that we regret is the same, exact thing that we’ll all need to continue to live, to survive. That’s what makes Passion an all too powerful drive. This piece ends here because Control is important.

mga bagay na dapat mong malaman.

1. Pag-gising ko isang umaga, napag-isip-isip ko, wala na rin pala talaga akong pakialam sayo.
2. May mga bagay na hindi na mababago at mababawi.
3. Kung kinailangan ipilit, ibig sabihin 'di tugma mula sa simula.
4. May konsepto ako ng pinaglumaan.
5. Kasama sa mga plano ko sa buhay ang mag-move on. Subukan mo isama yan sa mga plano mo. Sabi kasi nila maganda raw yun. Try mo lang.

mary left.

Today the old ladies took Mary away. The same Mary to whom I gave deep red mums. The same Mary my family prayed to night after night for one week. The same Mary who, I think, was here years ago.

Being Catholics, we receive these kinds of things to our home. In some weird sense, though not explicitly admitted, it’s a way of testing faith and adherence to the teachings. It’s being open to these devout people when all of sudden the image of Mary, The Virgin, doesn’t have any home to go after the last house. In its crudest sense, it’s sheltering the homeless.

I’ve always been skeptical of people. I believe that for every intention lies another subliminal intention. In this case, it’s the envelope. Enclosed within is a sheet of paper asking for petitions. But we’re not dumb. My parents know we have to put some amount with it.

Mama asked me if I have any petitions. I told her to put Pres. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, to ask for them to pray for the welfare of the Philippines, to pray for the oppressed farmers, and to ask the old ladies to pray for themselves. You know, for them to have the continuous drive to do things, and I don’t know, even enlightenment. Of course, I wasn’t taken seriously.

Before they took Mary away, they had this sort of ceremony. They sang songs and let Mama read the Gospel. I thought it would end there. But they asked my mom to share her “understanding” of the reading. Kemlar, kemlar. Then the ladies took turns in sharing their reflections. Claps every after turn. One of the old ladies even managed to tieback her reflection to the “essence” of their charismatic group and the “relevance” of their deeds. It took them a while to finish. Ang daming kemez. May collection pa! But don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying they’re fake. I’m just not a fan of theatrics especially when praying.

They also gave Mama this sheet of paper to fill out. One item was asking for any miracle that happened to us. Mama turned to me for answer. I told her, “’wag ka na mag-imbento kung wala.” Of course I know everyday is a miracle in our life. But what’s the point of asking if any miracle happened to us? A form of divine assessment?

I was typing this entry during the whole ceremony. Apparently, one lady was loitering outside while the rest of her sisters were busy doin dur thang. She peeked through the window and saw me. I was offended and felt I was judged for not participating. So I gave back an offensive stare. I was supposed to ask if her sole purpose was to consume the snacks we’ve prepared. Good thing she went back to the group. But don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying they’re fake. But when you’re with a group that has every intention to pray, sister, just pray.

Finally, when they were recounting how the image of The Virgin ended up at our house one of them said:
Kemez 1: Buti nalang po tinanggap n’yo kemez kemez… ‘Di tulad nung iba, tulad nalang nila Sister Meding (our neighbor), pinagtataguan si Mama Mary.

Ay! Kamusta naman sa judgment?!

Today the old ladies took Mary away. And the old ladies were with Mary when they left. Bow.

missing pi ay di si*.

I woke up early today to write about PIDC 2009. But I feel so bleh. My first sentence was really disgusting. So this is what you have now – random thoughts to fill the urge to create an entry.

This sounds really chaka (as we put it), but I think I miss it. I miss the people. I just enjoyed seeing everyone. Judge me, but kebs. I’ll say it anyways. I miss the Ateneo presence. I also miss seeing people from UP Manila, from STC Cebu, and one or two from UP Baguio.

I miss the issues, the drama, the burst of ego masked by each team’s “institution pride”. I miss the everyday UP Diliman huddle, the prayer addressed to no one in particular but to the Higher Being (yes, we know how to pray), ended every time with a roaring “UP Fight”. I miss carrying stuff – huge boxes, coolers, and bundled papers alike – for making me realize that I’m really a strong person. Chosss lang!

I’m really proud of UP Diliman for the full break and for the championship. Other institutions will refute, but our Higher Being knows that we were also competing with the guidance of the “Saint of Fair Play”. I’m proud of Teenahips, of Paolo, of Maan, of Angelo Kalaw, of Marc Batac, and especially of Mikee (first time to compete and yet, grabbed the 10th Best Adjudicator recognition). I’m proud of UPD B, C, D, E, F, especially of Team A (PIDC 09 Champion). I’m proud of the PIDC 2009BOD. I’m proud of the support staff. And yes, I’m proud of me for reasons I don’t even know. Chosss take two!

Now that PIDC over, I’m forced to face my readings on Rizal and Shakespeare, to attend classes, to take exams, and to deliver reports, and be partially deprived of social life due to acads. I wish it was PIDC allover again because I feel “emptiness” (Batac, 2009). But I’ll stop at that. Baka ma-guest pa ako sa bagong show sa Channel N – Paki-realize with Jowee and Sam.

I miss PIDC. I miss a lot of things about it. But, I’ll end here. I have class in a couple of hours and I still need to read.

Cheers for Love! (huh?)

*PIDC, Philippine Inter-Collegiate Debating Championship.

notes on relationship.

For a relationship to be a relationship, two entities must be present. Absence of another spells fail. Even the dictionary defines “relationship” as the state of being interrelated.

Relationships are also based on the idea of reciprocity. One of the members of the relationship will initiate an action, the other needs to deliver a response (not necessarily a reaction, something noncanonical) and vice versa.

Some relationships are healthy, some are not. A decaying body-soil relationship is healthy, a mussel-barnacle relationship is not.

Occurrences in a relationship will revolve on what is natural. So that when you throw a chicken in a pool of two alligators, don’t expect one of the alligators to be philanthropic. It is natural for them to fight and struggle to get that whole chicken for themselves. In the same way that when one initiates a fight, with accusations being thrown and all, don’t expect the other to pray the novena for the intercession of the angels and saints. If you want a fight, then you will get a fight. It is just natural.

In a relationship, it is possible to love and stop there – devoid of any labels, commitments, and shit.

In any relationship, there is a fine line that exists between being sensitive and being assuming. Remember: Do not assume unless stated. Avoid pain.

Are you in a relationship?

Relationships thrive on the presence of one another. The urge to be together will always be present. But sometimes LESS is MORE. The less time you see each other, the more you value time when you’re together.

They say everybody deserves a second chance. Relationships will pass through rough roads, but if you want to make it last, give him/her another chance. But if that’s the case, does it mean that we’re free to waste our first chance?

We always search for the ideal girl/guy. But my Religion teacher back in high school said that we’ll only meet failure every time. So what’s the point of searching? He said that the ideal girl/guy doesn’t exist in real life. It exists up there. It can never be attained. What we should do is to search for that person who can best approximate our ideals. A call to be realistic. This reminds me of Plato.

Rafael had a girlfriend. Until one day, his girlfriend came up to him and said, “I told him I like him.” She was referring to another guy. They broke up. In theory, two entities must be present to be in a relationship. In practice, it is possible to have one entity is in a relationship, while the other flutters like a butterfly.

When relationships end, should it really end?

Or like endings, should we expect something else?

*boy or girl?

Michael graduated salutatorian yesterday. Instead of delivering a salutatory address of some sort, he just led the pledge. I won’t lie that I had this illusion of writing him another speech. But then again, the school decided to do something else this year. So, fail. I have to be okay with that.

As expected, I had no value all throughout the ceremony. I didn’t even have a reserved seat. Both of our parents were going up and down the stage for different awards. Mariel was with Michael’s girlfriend. Good thing Kath and Lean came to watch with me. We had fun “constructively criticizing” the graduates (makeup, hairdo, and valedictory address included), the parents, the ceremony itself, and our former schoolmates who came.

The whole ceremony started at 4 pm with a Baccalaureate Mass and ended at 10 pm. No exaggerations. So after the whole thing, our next problem was where to eat.

My suggestion was to go home, sleep, and celebrate tomorrow. Their’s was to scout for an open restaurant and celebrate ASAP. We found one, Max’s. But my brother has this thing of not eating in restaurants where there’s another graduate celebrating. We had to find another one. It was around 11 pm.

We ended up in the most prestigious place where a graduate can eat and celebrate – Burby’s/Tapa King.

Michael’s girlfriend was supposed to come. Later on my brother explained why she can’t. I’d rather not share why, because he’ll hate me again for not taking it/her reason seriously. I tagged Lean and Kath with me. They’re family, my parents should know that.

I could have chosen to spend the rest of the night with Kath and Lean – drink and party somewhere, get wasted, and celebrate. But we all needed to go home. One, I don’t want Kath to go home drunk. She just asked her parents to watch my brother’s graduation with me. Two, I just snatched Lean from a “meeting” he had with a classmate. I think his parents didn’t even know that I was with him. Three, I still had school requirements waiting to be finished. How unfortunate.

Back to my brother: I’m not sure if he already has a definite plan on where to go to college. From the last time I wrote an entry about him, he had a 360 decision spin on what he wants to do with the rest of his life. From taking premed and continuing medicine, to engineering. He’s definitely not going to UP. He failed to get into a program. It was all premed, that’s why. Talk about, first choice: Nursing, UP Manila; second choice was, I think, Physical Therapy, UP Manila; then BS Psychology, UP Diliman; and finally, some premed quota course, UP Diliman. Great. A sure ball fail.

Last time I heard, he’s going to MIT. Not where Noam Chomsky is to be found, but in Mapua. They brag to have pioneered the quarter system/term in the country. Meaning, a five-year course can be finished in four, a four-year course in three to three and a half. But let’s extend the analysis.

A quarter term program would only mean paying tuition fee four times in one academic year. You can now deduce reasons why I don’t want this to happen. But in one word: MAHAL. It’s a financial hurdle for me, inasmuch as it is my family’s. The global recession is far from over.

We all still have roughly two months to plan and strategize. My initial suggestion is for Michael to enter MIT and shift to UP after a year. My parents doubt the idea.

Like most of my entries, I don’t know how to end this one. So, I’ll just show you our parking lot shots instead.

*sometimes, titles, like labels, are irrelevant.

mayer’s stupid mouth was really for me: an apology

Sometimes you get too fond of people that you forget that you just “know” them. I did know who Cha is, who Tyron is, who Ron is, who Gelo is, and the rest of my acquaintances. I can never say, “You know my friend Ron was this and that…,” because I can’t call them friends. I just happened to know them.

Lean doesn’t only know me. He understands me (I hope). In the same way that Kath does, Paula does, Fred does, and so on. Fred won’t be offended (given the right context) if I ask, “tanga ka ba?” Or if I tell Kath things like, “I wanted you to grow and learn.” I chose to know them, understand them in the process, and treated them as friends. The effort was reciprocated. That’s the reason why I can talk about them starting with, “You know my friend [insert name]…”

Sometimes the classification of those people who I know just “knows” me versus those who I know who “understands” me fades to quick to be noticed. People get offended with the way I talk, when I share what I think, when I get to aggressive with ideas, and the like. They always think I was flaunting “it”, which was never the case. I get too excited. I assume they understand me, and I end up receiving cold treatments.

It always bothers me when people say I’m arrogant, or when they think I treat them lowly. I don’t befriend others just to bully. I befriend others because, just because. I don’t even need a reason. I don’t talk to those who I don’t even want to get close to (not like some people I know).

That’s why if I ever crossed the line, offended you, and felt like I was looking down on you. Believe me that it was not, in any way, intentional. That I’m serious when I say, “I’m sorry,” because I am really sorry, JC.

to manifest rejection.

Rejection is ordinary. You can repulse it or embrace it, but rejection would always be ordinary. And yet the sensation it leaves us, the emotion that we draw will always be alien, foreign, not ordinary.

Rejection is the body’s desire to sleep and the mind’s choice to stay awake. Rejection is being able to pull the blanket and still ending up being cold. Rejection is choosing to get out of the bed to feed a starving body. Rejection is the concoction of soda, mangoes, and an aching tummy. Rejection is the experience of choking. Rejection is the impulse to press letters on the keyboard and choosing not to sleep. Rejection is choosing not to sleep because pain haunts when eyes are shut. Rejection is the inability to drown pain in silence, in darkness, in peace. Rejection is believing that this is no longer about you, but the internal rejection to process and place everything in right slots to fill gaps, to understand.

And so my thought stops and gags just to say I feel rejected in ways I can’t explain. In the same way that you can’t probably understand the point of this text because this, in itself, is a form of rejection.

in need of friend(s).

I think I need a new friend. I’m thinking of someone like Lean, the only person who can occupy the first spot in my friends list. Someone supportive, has the same brain frequency that I have, easy to make laugh, loves clothes, loves to go out and have fun, can give time when he’s free, has no issues with staying up late, and a fellow fan of food. Someone who seems to be myself, except that he’s in a different mould, a different body. Someone near. I wouldn’t ask for a new one if Lean was just around. Don’t worry, I don’t like comparing friends. You don’t need to be him. Just be there when I need you and I’ll do the same. Let’s be friends, can we?

***

This won’t make me less of a man. But I really miss old friends. Obviously, Lean. And for the sake of being fair, Kath too.

enough of banapple.

They went to Banapple again, for the nth time. They wanted to eat the same pasta dish on the menu, the same cake on display, the same food all over again, for the nth time. I think.

I’ve been there twice. I think I can afford to not visit again for the next couple of weeks or maybe for the next month. Not that the food sucks. I bet you’ll love their menu. And their cakes are just heavenly. I swear. It’s their pasta dishes that I’m getting sick of.

A friend said, “Maybe because you haven’t tried all of them.” But I think I don’t need to try everything to conclude that that taste of sautéed onion and/or garlic that lingers on my tongue makes me decide to skip pasta every visit. The only pasta dish that doesn’t leave that taste is their lasagna. For an obvious reason, it is tomato based. The sweet and sour taste dominates.

I wish they’d find a new place to hang out and eat. I wish that new place serves little, if not zero, Italian food. My body is developing an aversion for food that tastes that way. Let’s go to Banapple for the cakes. Of course I can always order sandwiches, but I can make my own sandwich at home. Thank you very much. Enough pasta, please.

I’m positive. This fad will die…soon.

i have emo friends.

We always know what hurts. But still we haven’t learned to stay away from those things. Because as painful as it is, if that’s the only way to feel their presence, we always give in.

We still check them every now and then just to see what’s been happening since they left. That even if sometimes we say, “we just want to see them happy”, deep in our hearts we want their happiness to be us.

From Mae.

***

Not that I’m stuck, but what happened yesterday will stay part of yesterday. Bow.

eng'g, magpakatotoo ka.

When one hears the word “engineering”, these are the things that come into mind: men, gears, engines, bolts, steel, cement, wires, hard labor, ground, okay maybe chemicals, and the list goes on. Inasmuch as I wanted to be gender fair, the idea of women doesn’t really figure in the picture. Don’t ask why, because I don’t know either.

But that’s not the point of this entry. I was thinking that if I share this perception with the rest of the people around me, then maybe there is enough reason to believe that male engineering students are afraid to assert their gender, even if they’re so sure with it or even admit to themselves that they’re confused, because the nature of the college and its courses is so alpha-male. After that sentence, you probably know where this entry is going.

Let’s talk about engineering students and their fear to not be straight.

I know someone. He’s gay. I don’t know if a lot of people know it. But he’s not my friend. He just happened to be an ex-boyfriend of a friend that’s how I came to know his nature. He doesn’t look gay. Nowadays, that’s a good thing. Because if you do, chances are, you’ll be getting loads of judgments. But anyways, he’s never shy to be gay. When he and my friend was still together, they took a lot of pictures. And you’ll know that they were a couple. He is from the College of Engineering. He is gay, never ashamed of it.

I know someone. I know within him he’s having doubts about his gender. Or maybe he’s sure and just tries to hide it. He tries so hard, as in sooo hard, to act straight. But the thing is, the more you try, the more you expose yourself. I mean, you don’t need to talk about porn like “putang ina, ang laki nung boobs nung blah blah blah” Like, riiiigght. I don’t know about other people, but I sure know if one is faking it. He is from the College of Engineering. He’s afraid to admit (even to himself) because he’s from the freaking College of Engineering.

I’m not expecting engineering student #2 to confirm to me his gender. All I’m asking is for him to be himself. If you like watching men doing it on film, then so what? You don’t need to tell me you do. Just watch what you like and stop telling me how big were the boobs of the woman from the last porn you saw. You know for a fact that you were more interested in guys. Stop the game of pretense, pare. I’m getting sick of it.

The mistake of those who reached epiphany is that they always feel the need to announce to the public that they’re not straight. As if they are looking for a form of validation, but are afraid to be judged. Who said they needed validation? Who liked judgments, anyways?

Maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe he’s sure of his gender. Maybe he’s really straight. But that’s not even the point.

Let’s assume that engineering student #2 is really straight. Then why act macho in front of the engineering crowd, just to slip and hint clues of your true self once they all go away? Let’s just repeat. Stop the game of pretense, pare. Kadiri na, eh.

Engineering student #2 you don’t need to be engineering student #1. Cliché, be yourself. I think that’s better. You’ll probably be happier. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the next Bebe Gandanghari. Or are you just waiting for your mariposa to come? I’ll bring one, just tell me. Just stop the game of pretense, pare.

the final set that was.

Ely said in an interview that as far as Eraserheads as a band is concerned, The Final Set would be the last time that they’ll be playing together. After their breakup in 2002 and after their supposed-to-be August 30 final concert last year, this is it. As in, this is it. It was Eheads once more. Somebody turned on the time machine. It was 90s all over again.

It must be luck. Mama was project head of some chever for Fit & Right. Meaning, FOH passes for The Final Set. Confetti, confetti! Mama was VIP, Me and Yeng was Gold (but Yeng chose something else over this concert), and Michael was Bronze (because he dragged with him 2 friends).

We were in the venue during the setup. As in noon level, we were already roaming inside the concert grounds. That’s why to the guy who said that Ely’s mic “malfunctioned” in the middle of a song, know that you are so wrong. He just wanted the crowd to sing. That’s also why my t-shirt tan evened out a bit. The sun, oh the sun, was just so bright and hot.

Gates were opened at around 4pm. Heat level was consistent. The concert started at around 8:30 pm. Imagine the long wait.

Ticking sounds of a countdown. Lights out. A shower of sparks. Lights on. Then a familiar tune. Whoo oooh ooh whoo oh oooh oooh… The crowd went wild, arms in the air and voices cheering. Nakita kita sa isang magasin... Then voices went down. Everyone was awed. It was Ely, Raymund, Buddy, and Marcus in the flesh…playing together once again…as Eraserheads.

It was one of those times when people from different classes meet in one place (though still segregated). Please don’t expect me to list everything they sang. But I remember Pare Ko, Maling Akala, Maskara, Huwag Mo ng Itanong, Alapaap, etc etc etc.

As you know by now, Francis M was supposed to be the band’s surprise guest. But, Francis M died a day before the concert. Despite the incident, they still sang Kaleidoscope World as a tribute. It was one of the most magical moments of the concert. Francis M, rest in peace.

Michael’s phone got stolen during the concert. I think his last text to Mama was a SOS asking if they can be moved to a better place. And yes, Mama was able to do it. Silver? No. Gold? No. Read: VIP. But it’s fine. He missed Pare Ko (one of his favorites) because he was waiting for Mama outside the concert grounds for the passes. The look on his face was disappointment. And the good brother that I am told him, “Dito lang kayo, ha? Antayin n’yo si Mama. Pasok lang ako.” But to be fair, I was calling Mama when I was inside. Promise.

The Final Set ended with Ang Huling El Bimbo, with confetti and fireworks increasing the magic/drama of the moment. Here is my version of the moment. Of course, you can always check YouTube for better videos. I have converted this for posting purposes.

But minutes after the concert “ended”, Ely, Raymund, Buddy, and Marcus went on stage again and played three more songs for the road. When they sang Toyang, the ground started moving. Literally. Simple explanation, the whole crowd started jumping. This ain’t no exagg, but it did felt like an earthquake from where I was standing.

When it really ended, I was like, “Ay? Bitiiin!” Maybe because I knew that was it. There will be no Eraserheads playing together in the future. We’ll all have to be contented with old records and gigs by former members playing Eheads hits once in a while.

I laid on my bed with things still running in my mind. Will MTV hire me in the future? Why did we have to go home at 5 am? Why did the drinks dispenser in 7eleven had buttons for cup sizes and yet it doesn’t know when to stop? Why was I too shy to ask for the personnel-from-Enervon’s name slash number? Will I ever find true love? Joke. And yes, something related to this post: Can we just clone the four band members, immortalize them, hire ghost composers or train them to make really good songs, just so to avoid Eheads from dying? Or should I just end here?