Ruing

I have been single all my life. For as long as I can remember, my forays into the world of romance have always ended in failure. From my earliest crush in pre-school, to the blind date I botched more than a year ago - I always ended up back in square one. In my twenty-five years of existence, I've never even experienced a summer fling or even a quiet walk on the beach with someone special.

The events of the past day brought to mind an episode in my early adulthood. Looking back, it was the closest I've ever been to having a relationship - in relative terms, that is.

I was barely out of my teens when I first met her. I must admit that I was a bit intimidated. She was tall, athletic and opinionated. We became friends, thanks to a common extra-curricular activity. But I never did make a move, thanks to my being inherently shy when it came to members of the opposite sex. I became content with keeping my fondness secret. Soon enough, it subsided.

A few years later, we grew close. I was more mature back then, more discerning. We shared a few common classes and often, we would go on leisurely walks in between classrooms. She was my constant break companion, eating lunch at our favorite food stall or studying (or pretending to) for hours at length at the library. I had an opening; I had a good chance to unveil my overture. And still, I did nothing. 

As the year drew to a close, someone else caught my fancy. I went on a bungled enterprise.

I've almost forgotten this particular episode, save for unexpected moments of nostalgia. With "what-if?" situations hounding my head, I rue my missed opportunity. A few years back, I wrote my first short story, "Beyond the Horizon," for the girl who shan't be named. Nothing really happened between us, aside from casual, nonchalant opportune moments. The short story (no matter how crappy), is my way of bringing some sense of closure.

The Game of Love (Cover) - Acoustic Mike

Acoustic Mike traces its origins back in the early oughts. The local acoustic scene was the "in" thing, with artists like Paolo Santos and Jimmy Bondoc going mainstream. D2003, with its crack lineup of resident "senti" men and "introvoys," established its very own acoustic band - Acoustic Mike, named after its front man Mike Olea.

After almost a decade-long wait (and despite the absence of its namesake), here's Acoustic Mike in its debut performance at Jave Maceda's birthday bash last night.

Epic Videoke (May 2010)

Among my friends, I’ve always been known as a karaoke aficionado. I take pleasure in singing my heart out in front of all my friends, preferably intoxicated. Power ballads and slow romantic songs are my specialties! For me, the ideal party is supposed to have a higher girl-to-boy ratio, crates of ICE cold beer, good company and, of course, the proverbial karaoke/videoke machine.

During my high school barkada’s yearly sojourn to the beaches of our fine, tropical country, I experienced the best ever videoke to date.

We went to Zambales to enjoy its isolated coves. After an entire day’s worth of island hopping, the gang was dog-tired but ready to partake of the provincial Bacchanalian festivities! By the time we returned to our sub-standard accommodations in Pundaquit, I had already drunk an indeterminate amount of beer. Hence, I was in high spirits.

Read about our trip to Nagsasa Cove

Despite the many drawbacks of our rustic cottages, one particular area stood out – the videoke hut. No Philippine beach trip (except for those high-end resorts)  is complete without a videoke night. After getting around P400 worth of 5-peso coins, I started off the night’s debauchery by singing a new found staple of my videoke repertoire, Lionel Richie’s “Hello” – thanks to the popularity of the infectious musical/comedy/drama known as Glee.

The night started slow, with most of my companions still hiding underneath a thin sheath of shyness.

It was one helluva night! A wide variety of alcholic drinks were available, from tequila shots, the omnipresent San Miguel Beer and the few bottles of Beer-na-Beer I bought just for the occasion.

As the night progressed, the inherent shyness gave way to one’s inner yearning to be a rock star (or a pop star). I had loads of fun since I got to sing almost all of my favorite karaoke tunes. From Jose Mari Chan’s signature tunes like “Beautiful Girl” and “Please Be Careful With My Heart”, to those powerful Side A hits “Set You Free” and “Forevermore” – I sang it all!

When one is drunk, one seems to be able to reach the high notes easier (or at least gets the impression of doing so!). That night, I performed by best ever rendition of Cliff Richard’s “Ocean Deep”!

My apologies to Gaita for being a human towel to my sweaty body. An entire night’s worth of merry-making is indeed tiring, that bucket loads of perspiration becomes inevitable. And of course, on behalf of the D2003 family, I sincerely apologize to the 10 or so guests we deprived of a good night’s sleep.

Nowadays, my benchmark for a great videoke night is that epic seven hours we spent on that (once) quiet cottage in Pundaquit!

Photo credits:

Jeric Angeles

Rafa Moreno

Trinoma Park and Ride

I live in a developing country, where efficient mass transportation is a luxury rather than a rule. Once you're in Philippine roads, most of the accepted traffic norms get thrown out the window. Hence, the daily commute to work can be likened to a daily trudge in commuter hell. For the unschooled, the experience can be disconcerting.

Photos from seeknomore.blogspot.com and skyscrapercity.com

I’ve been a patron of Manila’s crude mass transit system ever since my freshman year in high school. Aside from the two-year period wherein we lived in faraway Novaliches and I attended the Ateneo High School in Katipunan, my commutes have always been short albeit traffic-choked hops. Once I landed my first, 8am to 5am job in Makati – the nation’s financial center – I must admit that I was mildly shocked by the conditions of the MRT, an elevated light rail system along EDSA. Although I got used to the sardine-like conditions, I still rued the fact that I had to take two jeepney rides and walk a full kilometer just to get home! The entire trip home took around two hours.

 

Photo from Wikipedia

The costs of driving my 1993 Lancer GLi all the way to Makati is just way too staggering, with the combined fuel and parking costs sure to punch a large hole in my wallet, not to mention the sheer stress of negotiating the Metro’s congested roads.

Read “The Commute” 

My athletics comeback necessitated a more efficient approach. When I found out that the Trinoma mall offers 24-hour parking and a flat-rate during weekdays, I decided to try it out. Trinoma is located right beside the North Avenue MRT station. The Quezon City mall has two covered parking facilities (the Mindanao and North Avenue parking buildings) that specifically caters to park-and-ride commuters. Since it's open 24-hours, one can come in anytime*. Just don’t park beyond 2am to avoid overnight parking penalties.

Photos from Wikipedia

Mind you, I still have to wake up at around 5am to leave the house at around 6am, just to beat the morning rush. Even though my daily transport costs have gone up slightly with the parking and fuel charges, I was able to shave off a good 30 to 45 minutes of travel time.

This park-and-ride arrangement, where one reaps the benefits of being a private vehicle owner and a mass transport patron at the same time, is god-sent. I don’t plan on bringing a car all the way from home to work anytime soon because of this convenient option.

* - Park at the North Avenue Carpark Building. The mall entrance/exit stays open after mall hours. The parking rate is Php 50 on weekdays (flat rate). On weekends and holidays, the mall charges an hourly rate. 

No Frills Computing

One thing I've learned from my practical father is to keep things simple. My dad has this straightforward, no-nonsense approach to life. He has zero tolerance for frills. You can see it in the cars he drive (reliable second hand cars), the mobile phone he uses (a featureless, low-end myPhone) and the clothes he wears (simple and comfortable outfits).

Despite my penchant for relatively good style (especially in terms of my sporting outfits!), I've fully embraced the good example of my old man. The no-nonsense, no-frills simple lifestyle is best seen my trusty desktop computer. Ever since I was a kid, I've always been fascinated with computers. My dad, being the strict disciplinarian that he is, provided me and my kid brother scant access to top-of-the-line computing and console technology. Hence, I had to innovate and make do with what I have. 

As late as 2008, I was stuck using an antiquated Panasonic Toughbook (700 mhz Celeron processor, 10 GB HD, 192 MB RAM). In this day and age, such specs are grossly inadequate. I could hardly surf the net without seeing my laptop slow to painful crawl. Thus, I found ways to cut the fat amidst all the bloatware programs. I opted to use old versions of programs like Mozilla Firefox, Winamp, Yahoo Messenger and Media Player Classic. Instead of using the newest versions of Windows and Microsoft Office, I settled with Windows XP and MS Office 2000.

Soon enough, I discovered the world of open-source software, where lightweight programs abound.

At the start of 2010, I bought a five-year IBM motherboard (P4, 2.0 GHZ, 2 GB RAM) from my techie cousin and assembled my first-ever home-built PC. It was a labor of love - the fruition of years worth tinkering with these gadgets. Despite a few bumps here and there, my trusty desktop has worked like a charm. The addition of a 1TB internal hard drive a few months back solved my burgeoning disk space problems. For the first time in years, I actually had a computer that could cope with today's basic requirements.

Dabr - a nifty Twitter client - running on Firefox 4

The advent of mobile internet use saw the emergence of vastly stripped-down versions of essential websites like Facebook and Twitter. For the no-frills power user that I am, this was god-sent. Nowadays, I hardly even use the slow, cumbersome Twitter homepage, opting for Dabr. I ocassionally use Facebook's mobile version, whenever my PC hobbles (my desktop is prone to this, since it obviously isn't top of the line). For my music experience, I use a lightweight, open-source music player called Billy which is a mere 500kb in size. Media Player Classic (from the K-lite codec) and VLC media player are my media players of choice.

Classic-looking XP SP3 running Billy.

To update my trusty 1GB 2nd Gen Ipod Shuffle, I use a nifty hack called iShuffle, where one can do away with the resource hog called iTunes. iShuffle enables the Shuffle owner to transfer music to and from the mp3 player like a good ole USB drive. Yes, I am a staunch Apple hater (except for the Shuffle, of course).

I tried using various versions of Linux the past few years, but I never did get the groove. Indeed, I'm a hardcore Windows user, preferring the familiar interface of the Microsoft product from the alien, command-based approach of Linux. Thus, I'm using a bootlegged self-installing copy of Windows XP SP3 (downloaded from Pirate Bay!). I did away with those fancy desktop themes and opted for a classic look, reminiscent of Windows 2000. I'll be shifting to Windows 7 when I've saved enough cash to buy a newer, more powerful machine.

Even then, I don't see myself upgrading to fancier software or ascribing to those wasteful desktop themes and skins.

Old Songs

How do you define "old"? The concept of age, after all, is relative not absolute. What is old for one, may not be necessarily old for another. Take for instance Magic 89.9's Friday Madness. Back in high school, they used to play those New Wave hits all day long. In one of the rare times I tuned in to the radio, I heard one of Lenny Kravitz's bad-ass guitar solos. For me, anything released before the 90's will always be old. Conversely, those produced after the 90's I'll always consider new.

I'm an oldies man to the core. I love stuff that are tinged with time's tender (and not-so-tender) travails. From surplus Japanese electronics, retro track & field outfits, pre-War Manila to cougars like Cory Quirino and Jane Seymour, I love 'em all! Perhaps it's due to the warm fuzzy feeling brought about by nostalgia. All things old evoke that homey emotion.

Nothing reflects this deeply-wrought appreciation than my taste in music. For as long as I can remember, I've always listened to the so-called "mellow" and "slow rock" radio stations such as 94.7 and 96.3, respectively. As my musical horizons widened, I became exposed to various types of music. I had a long alternative music phase in grade school, wherein I listened to great bands such as Garbage, No Doubt and Suede. In high school, I explored the alien sounds of the defunct NU 107's brand of rock only to end up belching out those immortal Side A hits like "Set You Free" and "Forevermore" at the latter years of my secondary education.

Since I had lots of free time for the good part of the 2008, my musical appreciation widened considerably. I discovered a hidden liking for Jazz (swinging jazz, big band jazz and piano jazz). Perhaps it was the years spent listening to my dad's Smooth Jazz radio stations that did the trick. Jazz is an entirely different world from my old power ballad, mellow songs, John Mayer-laced playlist of yore. Although I learned to enjoy instrumental music from my favorite classical composers, Jazz stands out.

As a self-confessed videoke afficionado, the standards are an integral part of my repertoire of songs. I absolutely adore listening (and singing) songs like "I've Got You Under My Skin" and "The Way You Look Tonight" in my own style of crooning! It's like being in a time warp to a time long gone - a time of Humphrey Bogart-accented American English and World War II, an era without WiFi and 24/7 business news. It certainly feels like looking at a black & white world through the lenses of color.

Music is so wide and diverse to be constrained by taste, preference and prejudice. Living in this day and age where huge amonts of information flow freely across the globe is the perfect time for one's musical longings to be poked, rattled and turned topsy-turvy with an eclectic approach in writing one's playlist.

Reposted from my old Multiply blog

Manila (28 February 2009)

Daniel Burnham once depicted Manila as “possessing the bay of Naples, the winding river of Paris, and the canals of Venice.” The Manila of today certainly doesn't fit this description.

When I was in high school, I used to commute all the way to the Rizal Memorial Sports Complex from our old house in Novaliches, Quezon city. I hated every minute of the hours-long jeepney ride. Manila seemed foreign to me, with its narrow, clogged roads. The heat and the humidity were like an unwanted blanket on a hot summer day. My lungs heaved twice as hard through the smoke-filled air. Everywhere I looked, I saw urban degradation. The city is the microcosm of everything that has gone wrong with our country. What was once a centerpiece of the Pearl of the Orient, is now but a shadow of its old self.

As time passed by, I developed a unique liking to our capital city's environs. Amidst the hazy blur of today's chaotic sights, I saw faint glimmers of Manila's past grandeur.

I recall one particular late afternoon while riding in my friend's car. We were lost in the maze of streets in the Quiapo-Chinatown area. From the road lining the banks of the murky Pasig, I peered at the faded structures of the Escolta across the river. Despite the shady characters looming nearby and the dirt-strewn streets I saw beauty. There and then I realized how beautiful this city of ours is.

I began conjure images of Old Manila basking in its old extravagance. I pictured a city untouched by the ravages of war and hasty urban planning, where one could ride trams, river boats and calesas to enjoy the city's numerous sights.

Hope is not lost, however. Through the years, plans that have sought to breathe new life into Manila has materialized, with the Baywalk as a good example. There's also talk about rehabilitating the Pasig River and plans to repair the art deco-styled Metropolitan Theater.

One often wonders how different Manila would be, had Burnham's plans been followed to the letter. In this day and age, that thought is best left to imagination.

Reposted from my old Multiply blog.

Killer German Boobs and Taio's Dynamite

I must admit that Dynamite is a catchy tune. Thanks to the vivid images of clip below, I’ll always associate this song with a German woman with ginormous boobs!
Here’s the official music video:
Video credits:
Trailer2084
TaioCruzVEVO

Quarter-life Thoughts

I consider myself truly lucky, having been blessed by hard-working parents. All throughout my years at the academe, my folks were my rock-solid foundations. Compared to most of my countrymen, my life was luxurious. I was sent to the best local schools money can buy. I always had ample food and monetary allowances, things I took for granted. I had the privilege of taking part in athletic competitions, whilst juggling my academic commitments.

Simply put, I was insulated from the harsh realities of the world by my comfortable middle-class upbringing.

The end of my collegiate days was a rude awakening. All of a sudden, I was plucked out of my comfort zones. Gone were nurturing environment of the academe and the carefree existence of my student-athlete days. I can still remember how intimidated I felt during my first interview. The tall buildings of the central business district was a far cry from the sheltered, low-rise classrooms of the Alma Mater.

In time, I grew accustomed to my new-found professional life. Even though I'm still living my folks, earning a paycheck opened broadened my mindset. Life became more than passing exams, getting good grades and doing well at the UAAP. I began to seriously consider my future well-beyond the next weekend or the next sprint hurdle race.

Perhaps those harsh, rush hour MRT commutes did the trick. Never in my life have I been so close to the common, Filipino worker - the Juan dela Cruz. Whilst crushed in that human throng of sweat and bodily heat, I couldn't help but steal a glance at the the next person. In light of the cheap cost of the MRT, most of the patrons are humble blue collar workers, earning barely enough with the minimum wage.

There's a tired sense of hopelessness underneath the seemingly bright toothy grins.

Life in the Philippines is far from a picture perfect tropical paradise. I am lucky enough to even have thoughts of a "quarter-life crisis" or a "vision quest." Some people don't just have the luxury of idle thought, of angst-ridden retorts at the so-called "real-world."

As I move on in life, it's best to stay rooted in humility, to stay thankful to my hardworking folks.

Schuyler Fisk & Joshua Radin – Paperweight

Okay. When I’m not working or training, I like watching films. I’ve practically seen most of the notable war and sports movies in the torrent-verse (or maybe not). I am also sappy; hence, my penchant for romantic comedies or simply movies about love.

In one of my past lives, I must have been a medieval balladeer or a crusader (or maybe not).

Here’s a song from a Nicholas Sparks movie, Dear John. It’s a collaboration between Schuyler Fisk and Joshua Radin of Scrubs fame. Thanks to the song, I’ve been afflicted with a badly recurrent case of the dreaded last song syndrome (LSS):