That Thing Called Tadhana

Yup, this is me losing the battle against cheesy Filipino movies. I don't really like watching love stories, let alone Pinoy movies for their unoriginal, predictable, and overly promoted but usually half-assed quality production. To tell you honestly, Pinoy movies suck big time right now. No. Let me rephrase that. Over-hyped Pinoy movies suck big time. But this, this film that humbly made its way to the big screens really got me. It somehow hoisted the downward spiral of the once great Philippine movie industry, didn't it? We need more movies like this. Movies that actually foster creativity over profit.

Of Tikoys and Smörgåsbords

I regret not paying attention to my Chinese lessons. You see, I have spent my entire preschool and grade school days at Stella Maris Academy of Davao, where almost everyone you meet is fair-skinned, chinky-eyed, and with a surname that consists of only two to three letters.

For eight years, I have repeatedly written stroke after stroke after stroke those Chinese characters in our shadi-po. I was fluent during those times of our graded oral recitation. I sang songs in Chinese. And I knew how to pray in Chinese fairly well. But all these felt like a formidable task that I dreaded it just the same as my Math lessons.

Surviving that eight-year plight didn't mean anything though, for all I can clearly muster right now are the words wo ai ni, ni hao ma, and count from one to ten. If there's anything I knew by heart, it would be the cussing in Chinese. Haha. Well, who doesn't?

I miss...

Having a pet.

I have always been a dog person. Since the time I was born until I graduated in college, I have always had a dog. Being the only child (for 14 years), I considered my pooches as part of the family - a sibling. Someone I've slept with, cuddled with, shared my food with and talked to whenever I feel down. They're smart and they know how to empathize that you'll forget they are not human. I bet, they are even smarter, more compassionate, and have more heart than half the people you meet.

Much Ado About the Valentine's

A few days ago, while Jan and I were having some hot chocolates at McDonald's, we had a conversation that went like this:

Jan: *while browsing facebook, he saw one post from his friend* Unsa diay ang naa sa valentine's? (What's the big deal about valentine's?)
Me: *shrugs* Hapit na man diay valentine's. (Didn't notice valentine's is coming)
Jan: Sa atoa kay valentine's man pirmi. (Well, for us it is always valentine's)

I just nodded in approval and gave out a meek smile. But deep inside, I was grinning from ear to ear and my heart was already melting. Ayeee. Haha. (Not the exact words though. And I know I suck at translating one dialect to another. But it doesn't take a genius to get the message.)

Of Wrinkled Clothes and the Zero F*cks Given

You know you're old when you start not giving a f*ck about what people will think about you; case in point, I went out in public, unkempt. If wearing a wrinkled clothing is a crime, I would now be serving a life sentence.

Not that I did it unknowingly. Since I was already too late for work, I didn't mind warming up the iron. Besides, I never really iron my clothes. I avoid creased pants like plague. I know it's not one of my best days and I definitely looked sloppy (pants and collared shirt fresh from the clean laundry basket, matched with Chuck Taylors that has seen better days). But who cares? I strode down the road as I wore what seemed to be cringe-worthy, with pride.

Suicide

It's not what you think it is. But I believe I just died for about 3-4 seconds before I realized I just conquered my fear.

Yesterday, my friends and I decided to go to Kaputian at Samal Island to, well, do that cliff jump. Getting there is just easy. You just have to follow that concrete road and look for the sign that says Acantilado, and bam! You're there.