antecoitus

Planet Biyo

Found out about this from Anton. I haven't posted for a long time but I cannot not tell you about her.

http://www.sunstar.com.ph/static/ilo/2006/01/23/life/dr..josette.biyo.she.dreamt.of.stars.and.got.a.planet.html

hay malu

sa wakas...

Too much have been said and written about her. People have found great interest on her OFW bashing skills, her Jo Malone vs Axe comments, her gold open toed sandals and how absolutely repulsive she looks (we could have hurt her ego more, if we talked less about her looks and more about her shameless efforts to sound well-bred and important when she was doing the exact opposite). I still wonder how she was able to include all that in her travelogue.Did she even once talk about Greece? We gave her something that her mere 3 thousand per weekday circulation newspaper was not able to give her, a public. The thing is, I understand Malu Fernandez – why she did not immediately comprehend why people did not find her acerbic wit amusing.

 

Malu Fernandez is a socialite, she comes from a very rich family (that is if you compare with your average Filipino one) and has been programmed to regard herself better than everyone else, in the silliest ways even. People like her have money, when and if there’s no other explanation for their prominence. Since they have it, they would either flaunt it because they are bored and/or they need to feed their ego. They need to breathe it and breed it. In the American Gilded age, they also pertained to authors, artists i.e. people with artistic realizations, or people with some official stature. Most of those who are able to dominate the social scene, though are those who try hard to be noticed, those who are not of the professions nor stature mentioned above. They are the ones who make an effort to be seen even when they have the least to show. Malu spends her time with fashion, parties, brands, trips, pampering and primping herself. She writes what she thinks are human interest articles – perfume, connections, what not to wear to the gym, good looking men she wants to but apparently cannot have. That is her world. Shallow and hollow it may seem to a lot of people, this is the way she has been raised. Who can fault her for that? ;) . So she has closed her eyes to the truth around her, even if all four feet of it knocks daily on the window of her classy, pricey car, selling strings of sampaguita. Maybe as disparities grow we become more used to what is happening around us, they become permanent fixtures to the backdrop which we take as normal. I’ve heard some people actually exclaim,‘God, I’ve never seen so much poverty' (at wala rin silang imagination, bow). Some of these people have lived in M a n i l a all their lives, drove or have been driven to and from work or school looking out their windows. I guess, it’s easier to ignore it than to acknowledge the actuality of being part of it.

 

There is a sad scary truth as to how she has come to appreciate bludgeoning those who as she said are not of her level (myemyemye, ulul. eherm, sorry, I forgot myself.=)), how she, and well, her friends are able to dismiss shaming have-nots, funny.

 

She can.

 

She has a medium for it. Manila Standard, allows her to. A lot of other newspapers allow a lot of their kind to. Hell, we allow it as well. The readers have all this time been fine with reading poorly written articles that have no coherence and are crammed with typos, as long as the name attached to it is known by say, less than a percentage of our population (the same way we are fine with celebrities running for office, hehe or maybe I should say the way we have made them believe that its ok.). That is, until she said something so blatantly horrifying. Well, as if the other things she has written are any different. If I were, Malu, knowing that I’m not the greatest of writers, I would have just written a blog and gave access to my A-list friends so we can all shower each other with conversations on perfume and people-I-am-BFF-with (its ok for someone featured on MTV’s my super sweet 16 to still use BFF but for a woman her age and declared stature, hehe.. sandali lang susuka lang ako).. there, we will feign having real opinions, and will be free to be as brutally honest as we can.We can all live in a snow globe ignoring the fact that there is a mighty big difference between being honest and being cheaply, snottily cruel.

 

It’s fabulous to be like Malu. To not have to achieve anything that has made a difference but to still be mingling with people who she thinks have. How fabulous is it to be cool by association? To be celebrated without having to have any contribution? To be in the society pages of the latest broadsheet issue without having the damndest clue about the realities of our society? Some of us are unable to control gag reflex (same way I actually had to go to the bathroom to throw up, during the first Oblation run, the first time I saw a weener) when we see them pose for the cameras for Lifestyle magazines which is read by people who can actually afford to pay 20-30 pesos to look at those pictures (those who can afford that are becoming less and less). Some of us actually ooh and aah and some little part of us actually want to be one of them.

 

 

There is no excuse for her behavior but there is an explanation. A very very disturbing reality we have to recognize and assume responsibility for. We all made it alright to act this way, inadvertently. We all made it possible through apathy or through excessive passion that segregates echelons and types even more. We have judged each other’s decisions claiming an invisible right to. It's frightening how we, through the divisions resulting from our economic and social truths have produced someone like her. Worse, we have actually allowed her thoughts to be accessible to a lot of people by allowing her to pen them. I believe though that we are able to get out of this predicament, because I still believe in my fellow Filipinos, no matter where they are, btw. (Gamitin ang mga socialites, para may katuturan ang pagrampa nila, mukhang madali lang naman silang pasayahin e, utuin lang ng konti hehe whatif?) It’s the how that stumps me still.

 

 

Sidenote: In as much as I cannot relate to Malu’s psyche, I am elated that her transgression has placed the OFW’s, in a better light. I have heard so much direct and indirect clobbering about the fact that I am living and working somewhere else, for supporting the brain drain, for not working for the government and still having used taxpayers’ money to pay for my education. Some people even have the candor to suggest that they are staying in the p h i l i p p i n e s because they like it there, and what does it mean, I don’t? Oh well, as long as it makes them feel better. All I know is that for once we look like good people again, even if some of us are not really sending remittances or working. I vow to enjoy that for a while

of late

21/8

Tracking what I have been up to for the past couple of months is a chore. There are too many entries on my calendar of trips that have turned into mere wishful thinking. I found out three entries which said –holiday t u s c a n y- which I struck with two thick angry lines each. The trip Wojtek and I have been planning for the longest time, has not come to fruition. Instead I found notes pertaining to sending reminders about my employment contract, reminders to book my flights and hotel rooms for work, reminders to iron heaps and heaps of clothes, reminders to go grocery shopping or pay bills. I feel quite exhausted but feel that I have had no real personal accomplishments other than work, that I can say I truly recognize. Or maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Fortunately,  1.) I have read a lot more books than I used to have time for (no thanks, to airport layovers), 2.) watched more films and caught up on more TV series (what with hotel room nights and being trapped in airports because you missed your connecting flight?) and 3.) was able to actually have very nice buys from the summer sale season this year, since shopping has been my escape from sitting still – shopping is a sport that takes a significantly shorter time (yes max 2 hours for me, otherwise I get whiny on myself) than going for a trip or for the ritual of any real sport and absolutely is several times more distracting. Oh well, it could have been worse. It’s possible that I spent the past couple of months taking baby steps to bigger goals – like moving from P r a g u e , learning the new job and well, maybe, just maybe --- getting older?

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Every time I come home from a work trip, we drive straight to this pleasant little Japanese restaurant from the airport, which does not shout ‘c z e c h is landlocked and thus you pay with your soul for seafood’.  That’s my current comfort food aside from Ateh’s kare-kare, nilaga and liempo (hehehe blocked artery central! May isang beses na talagang nag-palpitate ako dahil sa taba, nataranta si Ateh at pinalaklak ako ng green tea.). Masaya na ko nun. There is something unquestionably the matter with me though… it seems… that I have outgrown partying. Nooooo!! Yes. I currently find boozing, dancing and getting sticky with sweat and cigarette smoke not as invigorating as before. Partying seems to be the fountain of youth for many people. Once we have gone out there, danced as wild as we can in the shortest possible time as if we had a curfew, drowned in jagermeister or one of lucifer’s concoctions, and rubbed bodies (shoulders and elbows, not necessarily.. you know) with absolute strangers, we sleep at 7 in the morning and have a little ‘I woke up in a dumpster’ or ‘I threw up on some guy’s shoe’ story the next day and laugh about it. I guess I’ve frolicked copiously enough along those lines in the past that I have somehow ran out of fuel for it these days. These past couple of months I’ve only been out thrice, twice with the girls and once with Wojtek. Once Rina and I went out for a drink somewhere in P r a g u e  and we ran across a shady character who would not leave us alone, I ended up sleeping at her place because she got rather spooked. That night with Rina was only even about getting a couple of cocktails in a couple of bars, it wasn’t even about getting crunk. Hah, whatiswrongwithme?

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A couple of weeks ago I bought a bike in preparation of moving to a much less hilly city (actually a very flat one), which translates to a total change in our means of transport. Knowing that Wojtek is extremely delighted with his brand (Specialized), he found me one on sale in a women’s frame. It drives very nicely and I got the gears agreeing with me pretty well already. Unfortunately I have not ridden it  again because I have been drowning in Demerol and white sheets of late. The operation to take the metal off my forearm made me stay in the hospital for a measly three days, not bad. I will not make the metal detectors go crazy on me again. Kidding, it has only been a couple of times when airport security can't explain why I keep on beeping even when they have peeled me thoroughly enough already. But the doctor’s orders were to stay put in one place for a couple of weeks until the control check is done, which will be this Thursday. I decided to have the operation after a week of breakneck, harried traveling (one which also took me for a visit to  c o p e n h a g e n where the Baretto clan still regally thrives, *waves*, and where I again met with my much loved Mama El, *waves again*). Now I have been practicing the lost art of chillaxing. I guess, this is as close to a vacation as I will get. At least for now.

when lei was in prague, a 2005 post

Disclaimer: Okay no disclaimer. All of it happened so wala akong magagawa, yun na. hehehe.

Lei, sagutin mo ang email ko tungkol sa Gresya!!! Excitement, naiihi ako ahahha. To the rest of my beautiful evaughl clan, na sabi nga ni Princess e idedemanda ako for emotional damages, I still love you pero alam niyo naman ako --- may aning-aning, hindi marunong mag-maintain. Sana huwag niyo muna kong itakwil. I love you all to bits.

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Me had a beautiful week.

Thursday Night

The usual manager's round was on and I think I delivered a good speech, except for that stupid slip up I made about sales management everything went good. Huwag na nating pagusapan dahil kahit ako hindi ko pa matanggap.. ehehhehehhe. Ang shunga shunga ko. Slowly I am feeling more and more comfortable arguing operations with all the managers and I am taking Freddie's sarcasm way lightly than before. Now I don't beat myself up so badly, I just go in front of the mirror and give my reflection the middle finger.

This time we went to Jaromer, roughly a hundred and ten kms from prague, where we had the round and some "other" activities. During the evening I had a nice massage and stayed in the sauna for half an hour. I couldn't do more than that in the sauna since I was beginning to feel like my bum already had blisters. Afterwhich, I played billiards with Petr, talked with the other people and played wine glasses.

At the end of the night, the men had some sort of a bet over a billiard game which featured a very interesting heated argument about cheating in the middle. So me and Jirka became referees. My rule: anyone who argues with the referee's decision gets a yellow card, anyone who becomes truly emotional gets a red. Ang dali talagang takutin ng mga lalaki minsan. We finished at three in the morning, tired from laughing.

Friday night

Lei came over all the way from Michigan. I have already met some of her MBA friends from UMich the Sunday before and they were actually a nice bunch, they asked me about so many things, from Czech dumplings to saying thank you to why I broke up with the boyfriend (thanks to my mother who just found it so necessary to discuss on the phone how I got conned while I was having dinner with them - in the middle of sipping goulash, ukinamfwet).

We went to Cafe Louvre for dinner with some of her girlfriends but they left early for Celakovice. So Lei and I were left to decide where to party. We went to Ku bar at first thinking of having some shots before heading towards the party. So with Leah and her backpack, we entered Ku bar, but it looked like they were having a private gay party. Sayang hindi kami invited. Whahahhahahah mangarap pa ko, maybe I should try hanging out with more "lovely" people here. Kung sabagay I will always have the chance to pretend to be lesbian and get in since most of them are lipstick lesbians here. Ay puta I am somekindofadesperado na, ano neng?

We went to Mecca for a proper house party, and Lei was so lucky to be here when the Friday night parties featured were actually very good. I think she had a great time, aside from being hit on several times I think she survived without any serious injuries. ehehhehe. There was this little cutesy English guy who kept coming to us but I was pushing him away, nung hindi pumuwede ang bastos approach, naging friendly na ko. Sinabi ko ulit na matagal na kami ni Lei and we're just staying for a couple of days. I thought he was adorable, no not attractive, para siyang... uhmm puppet. He had really big eyes and this sharp accent --- " you girls are really cool, you're not scared of guys around here" -- e singlaki ka lang ng hinliliit ko pano ko matatakot?

Saturday

Saturday found us shopping around prague and visiting the sex machines museum where I found several very interesting items. ahahhahhaahhha. May mga gadgets na hindi mo talaga malalaman kung san ginagamit kung walang prompt. And then there was this 1927 porn movie with stars actors who were a little bit on the chunky side.

Cute. And well weird because they never got completely naked plus I believe they were forty-ish. Susmaryangmahabagin. Para ko na ring nakita maglampungan mga magulang which is a major eww. (insert goosebumps here) fwede vuh? But some people enjoyed it, some people were nervously snickering, I bet they were looking for the right way to react.

We had coffee near the Asrtonomical clock and waited for it to chime, ahahhaha chime ba yun e anlaki laki? ehhehe... teka bakit ako natatawa? Lei found several sketches and paintings she bought for home, at nung hindi na niya maramdaman ang mga daliri niya sa paa dahil sa ginaw, nagyaya nang umuwi.

We called Wojtek afterwards and asked if he wanted to have dinner with us at this Pakistani specialty restaurant which had delicious choices. Everything was going fine until they started talking about the ex. See, Lei and I had this two year hiatus from the friendship because she did not trust the relationship I was beginning with N. Only the issue got all blown out of proportion and we had the worst fight of our lives. At first it was funny but then W made this comment that everything that happened may have been a typical example of how stubborn I am. That made me furious. Firstly, I was not the only one who took the wrong turn in my relationship with Lei, it was I believe both our decision to fuck it all up. Secondly, he had no right to trivialize an excellent relationship. Fine, N made a mistake, but that does not nullify four years of my life. Nobody has the right to tell me that. So I jumped on him until everyone in the restaurant was staring at us, Lei was uncomfortable and Wojtek was red as a cherry. He said sorry and we actually had to fix the whole issue up until three in the morning. Now its all good. I apologized to Lei but, well, I guess it was nothing new to her... she knows me well enough to understand that that's just how I handle crap thrown at me.

Sunday

We had lunch at El Gaucho, chicken livers, sirloin and grilled chicken, protein overload. Dahil ito ang kailangan namin para sa mga sumunod na oras ng paglalakad at pagpapa-pichur. I took her to the Castle, to the Bridge, at marami pang iba. At the end of the day, we asked Wojtek (who just came for a day from the mountains to snowboard) to give her a ride to the main station to Celakovice.

Its not like me to be narrating like this, this is just not my usual style, but I guess I do not want to forget anything that happened during Lei's stay here. As I was hugging her before she boarded the train which will take her outside of Prague (and then she flew back to Ann Arbor the following morning), I thought, there is something very quintessential about this friendship. Its just difficult to define something that stewed for two years and still managed to get out of its own misery, by itself. Hmmm. I guess when it's built to last, it transforms, then continues.

you are delaying the flight... we will proceed to offload your luggage

The heavens has a way of telling you to stop. I was supposed to have a full weekend which was supposed to start today; instead I am currently stuck here at the airport because I missed my flight. I had to repurchase a one-way ticket just so I can go back to p r a g u e. This means that I have to stay at the airport from the time of my flight which is at 1700h to the first flight from g d a n s k with a connection to p r a g u e which is at 0545am. My freaking taxi driver took a short cut or more apropos to say, what he thought was a short cut. I didn’t dare go back to the city because I know that hotels are fully booked. On Tuesday night I had to sleep at a sailors’ hotspot hotel, it had a sort of regatta-ish theme which was the only good thing about it because the whole hotel was stuck in the 70’s, the same decade they changed the furniture. Leaving the office at 1515h I was hoping to make it to the airport at 1545h. However my the taxi driver wanted to make it faster so instead we ended up in the middle of apparently rush hour traffic because it’s a Friday and everyone leaves the office earlier on a Friday. That’s e u r o p e for you. It took us an hour and a half instead, making me miss the check-in. The freaking check in woman suddenly became the most powerful woman in my world, but she knew no mercy. I was gritting my teeth the whole way from Gdynia, close to making the cab driver’s head bleed with my tiny phone which I suddenly wish was one of those early cell phone models that can be mistaken for walkie-talkies (o kaya panggayad ng yelo) for maximum effect. But he’s old, and old people have an unexplainable effect on me. They make me unreasonably merciful. Now, here I am waiting for the 12 hours to idly pass, hoping I can just close my eyes wake up and see an emaciated stewardess asking me if I will have a ham or a cheese sandwich. Worse, I’m wishing Hiro Nakamura was real and that if he were, he would give me a no strings attached invitation to bend the time-space continuum with him.

For the past couple of hours I have eaten my first meal of the day, beet root soup, sweet and sour chicken with rice (which was neither sweet nor sour) and a coke. I have bought gum and caramel candy , which cost me a mere 5 euros and for that I had to use my bank card because I had no Polish zlotys left (the store clerk was looking at me with humorous pity). I have bought an internet card from the same store after a couple of cigarettes outside the airport. I have watched 3 couples say goodbye sucking faces, 2 business men looking for electrical sockets for their laptops and one whole family dragging their bags to what is currently my most coveted place in the world, the check-in counter. I am leaving the time consuming activities for later which includes among others, writing about my current pitiful circumstances, working and reading a book. I have 10 bloody hours left.

The world has suddenly stopped and allowed me to think. I used to ask God for some time to just be left with my thoughts without having to worry about the next thing on my agenda.

Be careful what you wish for because God certainly has a sense of humor.

I keep thinking why this happened to me. I’m a good person, I use the magic words, I even wipe the toilet seat clean before I leave. Not that it’s a magnificent tragedy like, I don’t know --- acquiring drug resistant tuberculosis. I only have one explanation though, when things are changing in your life, and for the better, you tend to forget to say thank you. To stop… even just to quickly say those two words.

After talking to W on the phone in shock and close to tears because it is the first time ever that I have missed a flight, and while hauling my 17 kilos of luggage, I saw the chapel (yes, they have one, this is p o l a n d, John Paul II was a citizen). God is subtly using a ploy to drag an ingrate into his house. Mystical and cheesy… how trite you say? How clichéd? I know, I thought that too, but who can say no to an open invitation to cry without anyone judging you? So I went inside and completed the sorrowful mysteries of the rosary.

After which, I surprisingly, started weeping.

I guess, I cried because I was exhausted, happy yes, but definitely worn out. I cried for my friends and my family whom I know will have aged when I come home in December and I have had no part in the forehead wrinkles they’ve developed from the moments when they needed someone to tell their story to, or the laugh lines which mark the jovial moments I could have shared with them. I cried again for having been pained before and for acting like it was alright that I was not able to say my piece to that one (and only) person who had to hear it. I cried for all the gifts that the man-in-charge gave me even if I never had to ask for them. I cried for all my weaknesses, for the times when I acted strong while my knees were buckling. I cried for the splendid experiences I have encountered.

I cried for my wonderful luck and for all the blessings that have disguised themselves so much I almost missed them. Like I almost did this one. I didn’t think I needed a good old bawling session with myself, but even this one He had to think for me. Can I be more inept?

Now that I am older, I end up with less and less time to be left in peace. When I was younger I used to have moments in church (especially in St Jude’s), my bedroom, or the UP s u n k e n  g a r d e n to feel incorporated into a bigger plan. Those moments provide you with ebbing feelings of being humbled by your triviality and of being big enough to fill a part of a grand design which ends in a perfectly harmonious exactness of imperfections. You feel like a soldier and a king at the same time, you follow and yet you decide. I get less and less of those moments now, because I am too busy with the mundane.

The more worldly you think you are the more green you have actually become.

After reducing a percentage of my body fluid, I wiped my tears and went out. I told myself, it could have been worse. I could have been in Prague now, oblivious to the fact that I failed to acknowledge the One who made someone insignificant like me be stuck in an airport in northern Poland because I was doing what I think will make a difference in my life and in other people’s. No matter how naive I am that what I do, actually will.

I wish he’d play with my luck more often. It’s really not so bad.

Tomorrow I will be partying, like a maniac. I have to look forward to that. I have to have something to look forward to. If only to rid myself of homeless-like feeling today. W just called me now, he told me to stop planning for tomorrow and jus try to be safe in the airport. How did Tom Hanks (do it in the Terminal)? Patience, I'm definitely learning that now. I have no choice.

random 2

26.05.07

so i dove into thin air -- with a goal at least not to shit myself, pee airborne, puke in my hair or passout during the jump. It was a minute of freefall before the chute pulls you up, the best single minute i've had in a long time (better than sex? hehe, I'm not annd I say that honestly. I think... I have a new hobby.

the past month

• I spent some time in r o t t e r d a m, it’s no match to prg but it’s doable. Its saving grace is that AMS is only 40 mins away, and it’s a new place for us. The flat is also not half bad if I'm going to take it.

• I found out that in p o l a n d when a child receives the sacrament of communion they make a nice party. So we spent a weekend in w a r s a w for W's brother's. Daig pa niya ang nag-debut. Ako hindi man lang ako nag-debut, dapat pala pinilit ko na lang na magkaron ng first communion par-tay. We gave him his first real football, Jan (9 yrs old) and I teamed up against W and Adam (7 yrs old), the other little brother, we trashed them 10-8. Adam kept calling foul, a word he just learned, now everytime he falls I tease him by shouting foul. He laughs. Adorably. Maybe Christiano Ronaldo of Manchester United can do the same. (haha) That guy can throw himself three meters in the air without anyone touching him.

• Motivational Management in b r a t i s l a v a - how to manipulate people without them knowing it. Che! My first real training was with the Evaughls who have mastered the craft with such panache (anez mga ateh?).

• A lot of people I love (in MNL) are going thru this strange, depressive stage the cause of which is unknown. I wish I was there for them. We could have drowned ourselves in conversation, coffee, tsaang inaabuso namin sa Dome, the beach, hotel nights. I'm deeply sorry I can't be there.

• Lumapang ako ng tortang talong (literally, okay? eggplant na may itlog) for the first time in three years. Heavenly. Kung kasya lang ang isang buong talong sa bibig ko in one go. (hahaha deep throat itoh) talagang dedma. Ubos ang talong.

• Lei is my new heroine. Woman, you go there (to NYC) and brave the Saturnalia. Abject debauchery is favorable to professional achievement and inner happiness. Not too mention better, healthier looking skin. Eet ees zee glow. (hah. If I continue with this, I might put the Dalai Lama out of business, charito solis). And if anyone gives you any sh*t about this being dangerous, remember, you can always put it down to experience. =)

• I got to know about something that I should not have known about because it is unnecessary information for me. But the person who actually shared it confirmed a decision I made a long time ago. But frankly, I was neither really surprised nor angry – I was actually trying hard to find a bit of anger but there was nothing, instead I told her that that person delivers all current expectations. She said she was sorry, because if anyone was wronged it was me, it melted my heart and it opened for her. That is all I ask for from anyone I come across with in my life, decency and honesty. She said, she told me because she values my character and I will be eternally flattered. We laughed together although there was a tinge of sadness in me for the passing away of someone who was once a good friend and an amazing person. I don’t know what brought this immense change on. It’s a death that now, no one grieves for. Everything that happened as an aftermath (ALL of it), I have expected given those involved. She had nothing to gain from it but peace of mind, and I truly value her candor, her humility and the way she continues to handle the situation. She didn’t run when things got freaky. She didn’t base her choices on the fact that if she chooses otherwise another person will think less of her and laugh at her folly (as if that other person doesn’t already). She didn’t lie nor attack contemptibly nor compromised her character with basement priced behavior to pull back up for air. She’s built of good stuff and she has to realize that. Therefore, she never fell, contrary to what other people would think and would never have the necessity of kicking back. Her flip flops are too precious for that. End it here, sweetie. Don’t look back, you might turn to salt.
• Now I’m in g d y n i a. I’m always somewhere else when the drama and the shit avalanche at work back in prg. I might have to cancel my flight for an earlier one.
• Para talaga akong hinahabol ng demonyo pag umuuwi. I feel that I have to finish so much: visit the doctor, iron clothes, do the groceries, go to the bank, watch movies, clean up, reorganize the closet, etc. over a weekend. And when its already written on my agenda I have this big load of guilt on my chest if I don't find time to do. I have to take it easy lest I'll start getting comments like 'Are you on angel dust?' 
• This weekend I would like to go to Sensation White. Pero ewan ko ba umaariba ang aking tira-tira sa kunat self. The only tickets left are the vip ones which cost 142 euros – and its not like I have not seen Armin Van Buuren, the headliner play (kung si Armand Van Helden siguro papatulan ko pa). Kailangan kong humanap ng scalper.

random

I keep postponing my trip to the gynecologist. I’ve been imagining her waiting by her door with the clammy clamps, cursing me under her breath with some weird infection. I haven’t been really home in more than a month now. My ob-gyn’s bitching at me; some friends I haven’t been able to hang out with for a long time are bitching at me, if my kitchen could talk it will be bitching at me in chorus with the mountain of un-ironed clothes I have stocked in my overfed hamper. Every weekend when I come home, I tell myself how I should be heaving myself from the couch or the bed and to places I haven’t seen in the CZ, but I simply can’t lug my limbs towards being productive. Instead I argue with myself and watch creepy movies about cannibals and perverts (Hannibal Rising, Perfume). All I can currently manage are food trips.

 

Food tripping with G is a priority. My humble culinary skills are fully indebted to those many many times when we had a craving for something and the only way to extinguish our yearning was to cook the dish. When we bought the pressure cooker -- I remember lugging it to the car giddily, all of its 10 liter glory - I vividly pictured in my mind how quickly caldereta can be cooked with it. We have suffocated all his neighbors with our ceaseless charcoal-burning activities, we have invented 100 more uses of cabbage in our dishes because it’s the only vegetable abundant in the CZ, we have gotten tipsy with beer or wine even before we finished cooking so many times. I have gone home with almost all of his Tupperware containing all the leftovers, because I can eat adobo for three consecutive days without complaining and without ever forming bladder stones (at least not yet). We kid each other all the time that when you put two high A individuals in the kitchen, you’ll end up with a clean kitchen in no time. Like nothing happened. It’s true, we work like a factory, I even measure productivity levels at times. Before he even puts the mixing bowl down to the sink it’s already washed… okay I’m exaggerating but we’re really pretty efficient. G can release in me all that has been bothering me with work, advise me on it and make me laugh at myself. That is, over garlic whiff and a tv show which we simultaneously watch (mostly Oprah’s wildest dreams or Grey’s Anatomy). I’m going to miss that. So much. Like I’m going to miss Prague.

 

I would miss prg but not working in prg, not really. These past three years have been just about changing and managing it, I want to have some peace. Not that I will escape all the worries totally because what I actually will transfer to is change management. Yaha. Still, the alteration of characters I have to deal with is enough to refresh me.

 

But I will definitely grieve for prg , the city. If there is one word to describe prg, it should be picturesque. It is postcard beautiful, even when it’s plagued by traffic and tourists. The fact that a lot of period films are shot in prg is enough to explain how much of the old is left and how elegant the architecture remains to be. When I thought I was going to be indefinitely staying here I inevitably forgot how magnificent the places I pass through going to and from work are. That’s how it is when they seem to be so everyday to you. My route passes through Jiraskuv Most that has a great view of the Vltva river, the p r  a g u e Castle and Charles bridge, a view that can take your breath away if you happen to be stuck in traffic on the bridge and a flock of birds flies over your car  and suddenly snaps you from your daydream. For the longest time I have not even cast a second look at the dancing building (a Frank Gehry and Vladimir Milunic masterpiece dubbed Fred and Ginger after Astaire and Rogers) when I turn the corner towards the direction of my flat. That is mainly when I am busy contending with a blondie who cut me a couple of hundred meters before.

 

Now every time I stroll along little cobbled streets, to find a recommended club, bar or restaurant which has just recently opened, I look around dazed at buildings, trying to figure out if they are of the Baroque or the Renaissance period.

 

A couple of weeks ago, I went to dinner with G in this Argentinean Steakhouse. The sirloin, the empanadas, the tapas and the wine were all excellent. Although a lot of people were looking at us because we are both exotic (i.e. not white) and they were all probably wondering which one is actually the girl. We were also very close to the grill, which heightened our adrenaline and increased our # of words spoken per minute. A magician came over and made me his monkey for the night – with card tricks and 500 euro bills which he produced out of ashes – while a couple tangoed around the tables. It fabulously mimics a Latin bistro with big doors, palm and the smell of good spices.  We finished with a cosmopolitan (in honor of the most confused woman in the world, Carrie Bradshaw) for me and a beer (in honor of the Czechs who I will be leaving soon) for him. We started at 7pm and finished eating at half past nine, and since I was going to meet M for the Latin Night in Radost in the same area, G and I decided to walk around. We ended up in this charming little piece of the old town area where Chez Marcel is. Under a tree we talked and laughed and talked and fell of the bench giggling -- about Grey’s Anatomy (long story, you have to see us perform it for it to be funny, at siyempre siya si Meredith Grey), about men, about our holocaust weekend trip – it’s a trip we’re planning in order to visit all the concentration camps in most of e a s t e r n  e u r o p e – and the possible difficulties we will face with having to pose and smile in front of a gas chamber, of curing higad irritations with vinegar, of our life in p r a g u e and of how we are going to miss each other.

 

We were sitting on a bench under a big tree (I think it was oak) spurting fits of laughter… in the middle of dreamy prg on a spring night. It was so simple and yet that night will be so difficult to forget. With a wonderful friend, I also realized, this city can give you a great backdrop for memories.

 

a tribute to hippity

Attending a hip hop concert produced this little prattling, an inspiration from Wu-tang’s Raekwon who makes millions of dollars now merely from albums sold and who sang classic tracks from 36 Chambers during the concert I went to recently. The concert made me feel so young, so with my thumb ring, I even raised my lighter in honor of ODB. I am not a hip hop virtuoso, but my affinity to it in the past which, though limited to a tagging alphabet I keep to this date and knowing some words to some hip hop hits, has continuously amazed me. It’s the only music genre which managed such multi-faceted status consisting of dance (street/break dancing), DJing, beatboxing, urban art, grafitti, MCing and poetry. There are not a lot of music genres that link to a cultural movement – hip hop does. To a lot of people my age it was a statement, even a way of life. Hip hop has always managed to draw head bobs from me but I thought that the encounter and inevitable pledging of allegiance to the adult world has already stopped me from thinking that hip hop is whack.

As I am not especially mushy and the max of my sappiness is illustrated only in my ability to bawl (and I mean gut wrenching wailing) over happy endings IN cinemas --- love songs, that promise virtually everything except multiple orgasms never really wowed me enough to make me buy a full album of oh-baby-oh-baby-you’re-mine. (Plus, I don’t really feel comfortable being told I’m someone’s, like I don’t feel totally comfortable owning someone - haha, oo na jaded, e ano ngayon? But I digress, that’s another entry. Haha). Honestly some love songs make me wonder why they don’t end with a “aaaaahhhh I’m coming!”. I even made it clear to W that a CD as a wedding souvenir is out of the question, not that there’s anything wrong with it, in fact it’s really sweet. It’s just that I can relate all love songs to us if I wanted to (haha lusot, ang totoo niyan, hindi talaga ko theme song type). Acoustic nights are cute, we can all drown in the nostalgia of past loves, lost relationships and wonderful new ones – but three acoustic nights in a row can turn me into a lithium hungry madman, who may unconsciously perform a rain dance in the middle of the show if not stopped.

House, trance and techno, I liked before --- and adore now, especially for long drives and feral themed, jungle inspired parties usually attended when my neck muscles are all ready to snap because of work. Jazz is sweet and colorful, it makes me imagine psychedelic colors twirling in front of my eyes. I still spend one night every two months in a quaint little jazz club that makes my hair stand up, but in a good, its-tragic-that-I-can-never-ever-be-musically-gifted kind of way. I feel the same way for R&B, especially Justin Timberlake’s recent stuff. I am not being sarcastic. I think that when Timberland started producing Justin’s work, he and his stuff started to show signs of growing up. Ethnic music, I frankly only learned to appreciate when I met W’s dad who made an album (which I was told will again be released in

Poland

) of South East Asian music. He compiled and arranged it under an art grant in his youth after traveling by ship to our part of the world. Other than that I was never really properly exposed. Etcetera, etcetera.

But hip hop is one of those that have continued to amaze me through time. No matter what wrong messages overbearing 50Cent rap about women.

Some people may unnecessarily connect hip hop with certain stereotypes, like how some people can automatically link certain types of music to drugs of choice. As in – for dance -house, trance, techno-- its E, coke or K, not really respectively, for hip hop its weed, for rock (alternative, punk, etc) its crack and heroin, for classical it could be opium (I’m presuming), for love songs if it’s not chocolate, it’s pheromones, and for everything else -- a lot of alcohol. =) I believe that hip hop is one of those that are highly stereotyped. What with the graffiti, the skateboarding, and the big men who wear baggy pants which they refer to as extremely ‘tight’. When men who wear more beautiful jewelry than women, sing about MILF weed in a TV series with a title also referring without hesitation to cannabis (that was d-o double g, in case you’re wondering)… people do form judgment. That’s inevitable for a previously underground genre which has gone successfully main stream. I mean, it happens to most music types. I mean just look at how

Ibiza

is filled with people who do not really listen and enjoy the music anymore because they are too stoned to notice the track playing amidst the cool laser lights show. (Underground rave is DNR.)

A lot of people say that hip hop aggravated gang violence and unnecessary confrontations, when in fact hip hop gave gang members another medium to express their gang pride through graffiti, beat boxing, or street dancing meet-ups. If we want to blame hip hop for anything, I think it would be for the extreme materialism derived from hip hop videos which boast of pimped cars and more pimped boobs, lips and cheekbones. It’s been bitterly said that hip hop makes us want more – that bling, that car, that silicone. But what music genre doesn’t? C’mon how many boy band love songs did we have to endure as girls before we realized that we’re being tricked into wanting that guy which looks absolutely sweet, innocent and sexy, all at the same time –-- when almost at least one of each group is gay and will never be interested in us. Hip hop’s bragging, dissing (did I just say diss?hehe) nature started when MCs were trying to promote DJs so that people would go to their dance parties, and thus free style rap competitions like the ones in 8Mile survive until now. I noticed that in Europe, DJs (often also the producers) and MCs still have satirical pieces which mock the government, society, consumerism and culture or discuss issues to celebrate all that is either simply good about life or finding it again. It’s still poetic in this way, it’s more than chillin’ at the holiday inn. It’s more like what Eminem does when he’s not passing judgment on his mom and when he’s realizing his family’s worth. I think that’s pretty cool. How about more of Francis Magalona and less of Andrew E? ehehehe (if we can even call that hip hop)

When W tells me stories of his youth as a skateboarding chump who stops his bike to appreciate graffiti, I listen with a bit of envy. Now he stops the car on the way to snowboarding to do the same on legal graffiti walls where the pieces are given thought, time and effort – not only the testosterone dribbling marks on newly painted buildings. Here I am with an almost torn apart tagging alphabet, a few lyrics, and a Vanilla Ice album. (Haha, kadiri. Let’s just say that Vanilla Ice during that time was still very much the very basic version called disco rap.) But anyway that’s the only stuff I have to remind me of my fairly insignificant affair with hip hop, like many of those who wear baggy pants and a twisted cap singing the latest shnizzle mah nizzle and think they have been immersed in water blessed by Tupac, hip hop’s sacrificial lamb. =) W on the other hand lived most of its facets and honestly loved it. He skateboarded, tagged (and been caught), owns one too many Wu-tang clan albums among others and follow the local hip hop scene to this date which included taking me to a 3 day camp which featured all of this music type’s fundamentals – from weed and huge hooded sweaters to footbags – and no weekend shower at all.

I think it’s beyond being able to sing along with our African-American (or should I say African-‘insert other nationality here’) brothers and appreciating their ability to rhyme words. I really think it’s more than that.

I would make the same homage to the other music forms I like but that would take too much time. Owing to my musical inadequacies and incapacity to carry a tune, I have decided to assume a more eclectic tendency when it comes to music. But listen to Jack Black’s discourse in the ‘

School

of

Rock

’ on rock and you will pretty much have an idea where the other entries may get an inspiration from. Hehe. =)

Neither here nor there

Life is whirling me around now dropping me where it pleases. I’m churning. Stoned and wildly. If you can picture Toto on heroin in the middle of the tornado, you’re seeing me on my second 6am flight for the week. Whenever I see a stewardess doing her two finger exit sign during the safety information bit, I feel like gagging myself with the wet towel and the flight magazine. It’s not so bad. I guess I’m just a bit tired. Restless, too. One foot is in prg and the other is completely somewhere else. My colleagues in CZ do not know whether to involve me fully in the critical issues, knowing that I cannot follow through anymore or consider me an ex-colleague. I do not know much about the new job, so I’m just sort of floating around pretending that my lame bits of wisdom can be of some help to a project that I know jacksh*t about. Maybe I’m just making a big deal out of it because I prefer action most of the time and gray areas bug me. Blah. I’m excited and when I’m all wound up and my hands are idle, my mind goes on overdrive. So do my fingers on the keyboard. See I just finished one paragraph without any solid point whatsoever. Bear with me. I’m a bitch in heat with not even a master’s leg to hump.

Plus I miss my family and my friends with such fervor, now. And seafood. Fresh crab meat especially.

Mean Girls was one of the few high school flicks that entertained me because of the bitter comical truth in it. I love how women fight. Needless to say that we have to use this talent well, lest we are in danger making fools of ourselves.

It’s fair to say, that we, members of the feminine sex can probably thrive in a jungle and co-exist with animaldom more than the men because although driven by emotions (and hormones, at times) we are very very sly. Some men, give too little credit to how much we can actually manipulate a situation that I often wonder why they call us the weaker sex. Maybe, we wanted them to think that. I admit, sometimes, I maneuver the situation to fit my needs without anyone noticing that I actually am. Even I, don’t. I believe most especially the opposite sex are left clueless at what we just had them do. Because when an enemy does not think you can strike them as hard, if at all, when you do pounce, you can inflict much more damage. And pain. Unless you know you have to delay it. Women fight in a sexier, more interesting way than men. Taking it outside is just so medieval. Too simple. Too easy. Women like head fucking more. While broken bones heal, a head fuck lasts much longer and is more potent. Are we scary creatures? Definitely. We’re a fascinating foe. But men do not have to lose sleep over this fact, because most of the times, we fight only when necessary. When we are driven to the edge. Even when we are already being shoved we use nicely manicured fingers to shove back. We simply do it with more style.

What I despise though, is when we gang up on another woman, especially when we do not fully understand the situation--- the truth behind why we actually want to hurt someone. These are the times when cunning yet cowardly men get the better of us.

For example, and this is purely hypothetical, a boyfriend told you that someone is so crazy for him she’s claiming to be someone to him when according to him she’s nothing but trash. He says this just to keep you from throwing tantrums when he’s with her. (I mean, c’mon! The jerk does not even have any respect for your emotional maturity). Do you really believe that someone is so unbelievably enamored and overwhelmed by him that she just can’t keep her hands off of him? Unless your boyfriend has a… you know... as big as the e i f f e l t o w e r or is a prototype of the Mark Walberg/Brad Pitt porn god, he’s probably just feeding his ego with your gullibility and his lie. There is something and you know it. Mostly it was his fault. That little nagging feeling is telling you so. It’s either this is his disease, which is worse or they really have been attracted if not in love with each other. Chances are, you’re guy has used this same story with his ex-girlfriend and that there are more cases you don’t know of (and there will be more in the future). It’s an overused piece of bull. Ask the ex-girlfriend, it will do you a whole lot of good. Unless you’re scared shit of her because you were the woman you hate now, she was you before, and you were actually aware of wronging her. Plus you know that she did not perform such shoddy little tricks you think you can get away with by humiliating the other woman. You owe her that much to at least spare your imaginary villain.

But, you know what’s worse, what if she (the other woman now) was there before you?? The horror. Whoa. This means you’ve actually always played second fiddle. You now wonder why he’s with you then? Oh well, you probably know.

So you tell your friends. And your girlfriends, being the loyal blood sisters they are, trash the other woman just as bad as you do. You just sent them to hell. Your Ya-ya sisterhood is tainted with despicable cheapness.

When really, she, is nothing but an innocent soul.

While your boyfriend is a brazen, brainless, ball-less son-of-a…well…female dog.

And you are just simply, thick. Dim-witted.

Bitch.  

We cannot be like this, we fight well but we have to fight for the right reasons. Good, solid reasons. Otherwise, its just a shame. It’s a waste of an inherent advantage.

I pray that we do not lash out towards our own kind in this way. At least we should get our facts straight and then we can start strutting with our claws and our fangs and our four inch heels.

I am conceptualizing this shoot called Threesome. One of the people I have requested d to model asked me if it’s in anyway like the concept for Sean John (P Diddy) fragrances. No, its not its going to be more vague, and the only thing erotic about it is….;) Let’s not spoil it.

Anyway, just to be sure, I checked the site. What struck me was this --- the fragrance is called Unforgivable and tag --- Life without passion is unforgivable.

It’s simple, it’s cocky, it’s sweet. And for me, a bit unexpected.

Hah! What do you know?

Sagacity, Puff style.

why not?

Justice is a weird concept, and whether we should long for it or not, I am not very sure. There’s a very thin line between being fair and being vindictive. I am not pompous enough to say I know much about imparting justice. The kind of justice some people need to be able to finally forget hurting. Nor do I know the pleasure of holding the whip and lashing at someone who in my head, I believe has wronged me -- if I claim to be okay and happy with my life. Besides I hate self-righteous people with a passion (of 3 bitches in heat). Especially the ones who easily forget that they wear tattered reputations under their pretentious cloaks of honor (believe me, bitch fits are never glamorous, and they never make the right point).

 

What I know and understand is Pareto efficiency and I think it should be the basic principle of forgiveness and moving on.

 

Given a set of alternative allocations and a set of individuals, a movement from one allocation to another that can make at least one individual better off, without making any other individual worse off, is called a Pareto improvement or Pareto optimization (source: Wikipedia)

 

I think we should all try to be that individual that though not the one made better off will try until our noses bleed to not at all feel worse off from a movement. From a change. Treat it like it was a charitable deed, maybe the person who is made better off needs it more than you, or better (or worse, depends on your perspective), deserves it more than you. ;) This movement is a step forward towards growth and well, it’s like coming down from a high that was never good for you. Or a high that was never good. Period.

 

If you see yourself ending up somewhere you like at least, there should be no more bitter pill to swallow. Especially when you know that the direction to which you are heading has always been the less empty one, and the point where you came from will never give you the peace and the esteem that is rightfully ours.

 

After you have moved in on the situation and moved on towards something else, as time passes, you notice that those who have wronged you are still conspicuously drowning in guilt and brazenly manifesting it. Or maybe they are gloating at the fact that you felt a small tragedy with your loss, but then who gives a rat’s rump? That’s when you can quietly smile, look up and say a quick thank you to the heavens for sending the muses to inspire you to love yourself first and get a move on. You laugh at the prank that the Fates have played on you because you now appreciate that the funny thing about justice is that most of the time – it’s free.

 

I’m still not fatalistic and still not the type to say that something absolutely out of my control directed me to where I am now, but I, for some reason succumb to the truism – things fall nicely into place if malice was never in your heart.

 

An allocation of resources is Pareto efficient or Pareto optimal when no further Pareto improvements can be made.

 

You will know when that happens, and you will appreciate, gumption, finally. ;)

 

Much of the content is directed to a friend of mine who is undergoing a wonderful change in her life, she deserves it.

 

 

I adore gay people and I love the lingo. I used to speak it, now I don’t remember much. Last night I read a small dictionary by Louie Cano on Pinoy Pop Queer and started to remember why gay people rule.

 

Katol – mukhang katulong

 

Variables – spare change

Tahong – girl

Hipon – magandang katawan, pangit ang mukha (as in tinatapon ang ulo ng hipon usually)

Spluk – to speak

Shurely Fuentes – sure

Joana – flat chestd (dyoga, wala na)

Jollibee – dyogang mailbag

Jaguar – guardiya

Bill Clinton – restaurant bill

 

Etc etc. Yun na.