From an ex-TEDster

I had spent Saturday afternoon painting while listening to TED Talks. I thought, Chris Anderson, you are awesome.

Then I read this letter from a TechCruch reader and had second thoughts.

Because it's almost March

And the seniors can't wait to graduate.

For my friends in the Class of 2011.

QC Saturday

The work pile isn't getting any smaller and the canvas will be untouched this weekend. I want to scream, but thinking about it, no amount of lung exertion will make things better.

Still, I should be thankful that I was able to cross out a few work items from my list, that the EM AVP shoot went well, and that I was able to watch a play for free. Counting my blessings.

The last time I had a clapper in front of me? College.

The video, which will be used to promote Erasmus Mundus, was shot with a Canon 7D.

Location: Chef Tatung's, 17 Matipid St., Sikatuna Village, Quezon City

Mr. Pagsi

Saw Sa Kaharian ng Araw, B's favorite play, courtesy of a free ticket from K, who bought 10 tickets and just wanted to give them away. And he wants to treat us again. Sweet. (Reminds you of "Adeu, Barcelona!" in the post below this one, no?) It gives me hope that there are people out there who are giving without expecting anything in return.

Alright, back to work. Time to transcribe the untranscribe-able.

Another rollercoaster ride

The bitter before the sweet.

The Botero in the lobby

Resorts World Manila

18 again (then 22 then 25...)

A*Teens: "Sugar Rush"

Addictive pop music that takes me a decade back, courtesy of R. That it can still make me giddy is incredible. Happy times.

[UPDATE] An hour after posting the above came the spectacular crash. An intense wave of emotion took me through the next four years. To be 22 and to have your world crumble around you. Where did these memories hide? [Insert not-so-cryptic dramatic monologue here.]

And then H posted this on Facebook.



Music is my aeroplane. Now I can smile again. This is how it feels to be alive.

For your MP3 collection, part 37

Akito Misaki:"The Sound of Rain"-for moody weather
Automatique:"Lovin (Freefall From Space)"-intergalactic travel
Brokenkites:"Days Not Today (Slumbernaut Mix)"-can't get up
Ghost Bees:"Did The Red Sea Part"-Grandma Moses
Le Gros Ballon:"What's Left of Dreams"-for a dreamy ad
Lima Tropical Beats:"Nos Divertiremos"-with a drink in hand
Nick Rivera:"Happy Song is a Happy Song"-but not
The Seedy Seeds: "Verb Noun"-grammatically sound
Simple:"Books"-no reading required
Sin Fang:"Almost Everything"-a special place
Yellow Ostrich:"Hold On"- animal sounds + words

Remembering the holidays

Transport

Scenes from New Year's Day


Ferry, seen from the hotel window


The guard watching over our car

Last show syndrome

It's eerie, this peace. For months, I dreaded this day: the last show, when it all ends and I have to retreat to my workaday world. I'd be depressed when this is over, I thought.

But then I met New York-based theater director and designer Loy Arcenas earlier this week.

"I've always believed that theater is an art that is experienced in the moment. It is not something you can keep in pictures," he said. "I have no problem in watching my work be destroyed at the end of the run of each show. As far as I was concerned the production was the product itself.... That was that and I move on to the next one."

And then I thought of the way I was holding on to this production as if it was the only thing I was living for. Of my 500+ photos. Of the several videos I took of the finale dance, like a mom documenting her kids' milestones. Of tirelessly going on to Facebook to interact with the cast.

Hearing what Loy had to say hit hard. Let go.

On the way home from the show, there was this strange feeling. Blank but not empty. Content that the show went very well, pleased that we had a great audience, happy that my personal performance ended on a high, ready to wake up tomorrow and go on as usual.

I think I will stop here. No more shows unless absolutely necessary. It's time to focus on the next project: a group exhibit next month.

This does not mean I won't be sentimental, however. I'm wearing my TBT shirt to sleep tonight. I don't think I am the only one who will.

Just food

My boss's birthday cake, September 2010


Blackened fish, The Stock Market, BHS, October 2010


Soup, salad and quiche, The French Baker, Megamall, October 2010


Moussaka, Persia Grill, Ecoplaza, October 2010


Paella, Josephine's, Tagaytay, November 2010


Longganisa, hash browns, eggs and bread, Pancake House, Tagaytay, November 2010



Pizza and pasta, Chelsea Market, The Podium, January 2011

A true story

There was once a high school girl who loved theater. Her class asked her to direct the class play, a musical based on one of Shakespeare's more famous works.

There was once a high school boy who fell in love with the girl. He was quiet and shy and had nothing to do with theater. But to win the girl's heart, he decided to change that. For the first time, he auditioned for a play in his school--the same play the girl was directing for her class. He won a part and invited the girl to watch. The girl, having no interest in the boy but wanting to make him feel better for his efforts, went to watch him onstage.

During the performance, the boy appeared onstage with a bouquet of flowers and stopped the scene by crossing over to the audience and handing the flowers to the girl. Although she considered what he did the sweetest thing anyone ever did for her--not just the gesture but going through weeks of rehearsal just so that she would see him--she never changed her mind about him. From then on, she hated flowers because they reminded her of the boy. She asked other boys not to give her flowers. But the girl and the boy remained friends and stayed in touch through the years.

More than 10 years later, the girl missed theater and decided to audition for a play. She got a part and invited the boy to watch. The play was in his school, with the same theater group he performed with and in the same theater where he performed and gave her the flowers.

The boy had no interest in the girl anymore, but watched the play as a friend.

At curtain call, the girl received a bouquet. It was not from the boy, but that did not matter. It could have come from anyone, could have been bought by a friend, an admirer or a total stranger and the reaction of surprise would have been the same as that night more than a decage ago. But something had changed, perhaps because so much time had gone by. Holding the bouquet in her hands, the girl realized one thing: she did not hate flowers anymore.

[UPDATE: The girl told the boy about this post. He read this and sent the girl a long email that made her teary-eyed every time she read it.]