Pakners: Bin and Kuting

He calls me "Kuting"; I call him "Bin". We sometimes call each other "Pakner" as in partner.

My friendship with Bin started in 1988 when I was 5 and collecting Matchbox is already becoming a habit almost impossible to knock into pieces (which explains why I have 183 Matchbox cars today). Bin was the only boy in our school service who has the same passion for collecting Matchbox, Transformers and GI Joe. I loved him for that.

Growing up, we had this secret place - that only him, his 2 cousins and me can enter (or so we all thought). I cried, laughed, tuned, wrote, drew and daydreamed there. That was the place we all lovingly called our H2 (as in Home 2). When we have these "fights" with our parents, H2 was the place to be.

We've been friends for 18 long years - more than half of my life. And like any other friendships/relationships, ours was never perfect but our own little world seemed like it is. When my boyfriend from college and I broke up, he was there by my side even if all I wanted was some space to be alone. I was a complete wreck - bulging eyes and red nose. What can I say, I was brokenhearted. Bin forced me to get out of my room, get a warm shower, eat and drink lots of water "to compensate for all the buckets of tears you've shed". He forced me to face life again. He said that "Its a waste of time to cry over a cheater." I stopped crying after that.

Bin was the only man I know who values me like no other. Although we fought a good number of times and how much we can make each other's day miserable, he never called me names and has accepted me for all that I am and meant to be.

November 2006, I lost Bin to a warm-blooded hoodlum in Cubao where he parked his Dad's car (it is still a puzzle to me why he was using his Dad's car instead of his). The heartless hoodlum tried to getaway with the car but knowing Bin - he will always try not to give in to something beyond his principles. He was stabbed, which later on led to his demise. He was 25.

If Bin's still here, he'd be delighted to see Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles and Transformers on the big screen. I can imagine the smile on his face. Oh, I just know he'd be more than happy to see these! But he's all gone now and I am left daydreaming whatever keeps him busy up there.

Book 2: Eldest

I've been itching to write something about this but I never had the luxury to do it as both work and school consumed me. This entry is almost long forgotten but I guess, the "itching" never subsided thus, am writing this.

Eldest is the second of Inheritance Trilogy written by Christopher Paolini, the first being Eragon.

The second book answered a lot of questions I've personally written down as I read the book. There are a lot of painful episodes here - so heart wrenching, but there are also a lot of good storytelling. I loved the fascinating view of the elvish culture that is so unique - from the way they dress, their vanity, festivities, the way they sing and why they don't eat meat at all. The exchanges between the mentors and their students were something notable. I especially loved the part where Eragon was being trained to have a feel of what's going on around him by just looking at a particular subject. It was way beyond coolness for me!

Magic was further elaborated here and how it can be used both in battle and otherwise (like shaving). I fell deep on this magic that it really got hold of my whole curiosity. I seldom caught myself daydreaming, influenced by the whole idea of magic.

I am amazed at how Paolini cleverly contrive the stories of Eragon and Roran back and forth - creating countless other fascinating characters on all sides. And even suggestions of romance when Eragon becomes infatuated with Arya and for Saphira, the only female dragon around, when she is attracted to her mentor.

The gruesome battlefield kept me wide-awake even it is already past my bedtime.

The revelations kept me hanging so bad that I can no longer wait for the next book to come out!

Well, suffice it is to say that all the basics that one found in Eragon were also present in Eldest only that they're more "powerful" to me and they came with an unexpected complexity.

This book is quite lengthy - yeah, a long journey but it is a good story to get lost in.

Flowers Wrapped in Pink

I never realized that the day would come that I'd ever write something about Valentine's Day. You see, I never liked V day - not that I don't have love within me or I've got nobody to celebrate this day with but I just find the idea of celebrating love on this day so faux down to my throat.

Although I can be bitter with all the "boys" I've loved before, I think it was pretty innate to me that 'tis one occasion is something I cannot stand. There's just so much pretense. I mean, can one not celebrate love everyday? Come on, am not biting this.

Back in my high school days, I remember this particular boy who gave me a bunch of flowers and a big bear that is almost my size on V-day and how much I cried out of embarrassment. Sheesh. And that's not it, my brothers teased me non-stop when I got home. The poor flowers and the boy- giver WERE the topic of our conversation at dinnertime. Yes, with my parents. What a nightmare!

That was not the first and the last time of the flowers incident. It happened almost every year - on my birthday, on V-day and a few justbecause days.

Don't get me wrong, its not that I hate flowers and all. For some reason, I feel so embarrassed at almost every time I carry those.

Fast forward to Feb 13th 2007 at around 8:30-ish, RCBC plaza lobby. Am supposed to meet my beau there before I go to work, he forewarned me that he's got something to give me. I was still so sleepy to be so excited about it. I was just thinking that he might be giving me some stuff that is pink or a long love letter. I was completely clueless and very not in the mood to expect for something grand.

What I saw almost killed me - he was standing near Delifrance holding a bouquet of flowers, all wrapped in pink.

My gawd! What was he thinking?! Here I am in my office building - and all the spectators in "lung center". Oh gawd! This is not happening! I gathered all the courage there is left in me and run away from him. And I kept on mumbling - Oh my gawd! Oh my gawd!

He followed me, yes. Gave me the flowers that I never expected from him. I don't know - he's just not the type who would carry your bag, write you long letters and worst, give you flowers although he's kind of a changed man now. He carries my bag now without having to nudge him and he gave me flowers!

I cried, out of sheer happiness - yes, I am such a drama queen.

Here is a man, who is so sweet as he already is, made such an effort to brave me with all those flowers knowing that I don't like receiving anything on V-day. Nobody can make me feel like this weird aside from this man, my Hon.

I know, he's mine to keep.

Today, I made a vow to myself that for as long as God wants me to love this man, I will love him the way he should be loved. No, my principle about V-day remains as intact as it is but it just dawned on me (like how the whole earth is conspiring) that this man can love me more than I could ever imagine.

Now, how do I get home without these flashes on my face?

Crick Clicked

I never really liked Will Ferrell but him playing Harold Crick in Stranger than Fiction is exceptional. This is, at least to me, his best film I've ever seen.

As 2007 kicked off, we were bombarded by all these "must see" movies and Stranger than Fiction is not in that list - at least not in mine. I think it kinda surprised my beau that I was so nudging him that we catch this movie. It delighted him that I did.

The story revolves around Harold Crick, who is so damn good at what he does as an IRS agent. To me, he was like a walking calculator but other people in the story coined him as a taxman and they hated him. I already sensed certain OC-ness when he counts the minor details of his everyday life - like his toothbrush strokes, steps and how his life seems to depend so much on his wristwatch. I am OC too, you know. Though I don't count things the way he did, I almost always pay attention to the minor details in my everyday life. From the windows and doors of my room, the way I wipe my desk to how I want my shoes to sound like as I strut.

All this routine and stuff seemed normal for Harold until he starts to hear a woman's voice narrating a story... of his life. This woman turns out to be Karen, a novelist who is writing a story about Harold and is in the know on how she could kill her story's character. Harold went nuts when he heard the narrator say, "Little did he know that this simple seemingly innocuous act would result in his imminent death".

He sets out on a journey meeting people who can help him prevent his imminent death. He consulted a psychologist, I think, to help him with his woes. Then she advised him to see someone who is a literature geek to help him find out what kind of story he's in. This literature geek is Professor Jules Hilbert who served as his guide to figure out who the author of this book wherein Harold plays himself. I liked Professor Hilbert because at one point, he somewhat helped Harold better shape his questions or pointed him to the right directions. Brilliant.

It is here when Harold realized the little gems in his life - that people matters as well aside from his routine and wristwatch. He kind of fell in love to his "auditee", Ana Pascal who owns a bakery and challenged Harold so much that she made sure that his day will end up terribly. The moment Ana teaches Harold the kind of happiness that cookies and a glass of milk can bring is something that is so etched in me. Priceless.

I loved this movie to the last drop.

This is a moral tale about how we're connected to others, death and the strong ties between the writer, character and the story. ‘Tis is one of the very few movies who is so good and intelligent - thought provoking at that.

I like how Karen Eiffel said it, "A story about a man who's unaware that he's about to die. If he knows he is going to die and chooses to die anyway, isn't that the kind of man you want to keep alive?"

The Book, 'Tis Time

I know a lot of people who quite didn't like both the movie and the book. While its true that the settings and certain circumstances are so recognizable from Star Wars and LOTR, I still loved the movie and later on the book (and is a lot better than the movie).

In an instant I got hooked.

It was already hours passed my bedtime and am still holding the book with that familiar eagerness in my heart - I cannot sleep without knowing what will happen next to Eragon and Saphira. I had to catch for my breath when Eragon caught himself face to face with the Ra'zacs and how Solembum got hold of my curiosity. I was disheartened when Brom died and how I wanted for Arya to finally rise from deep slumber which lasted for more than a couple of days, I think.

Hon (as I fondly call my beau, Elis) and I have seen the movie before I started reading the book and am still captured by it. The story is engaging and has plenty of excitement - my imagination just went crazy. I wouldn't mind suggesting it to anyone.

When I finished reading it, I was so glad that an officemate gave me a copy of Eldest (the second sequel) as a Christmas present so I didn't had much troubles looking for it at almost all the bookstore there is in Makati like the way I had when I was looking for Eragon. This book, to my surprise, makes me crave for more.

I am reading the second installation and my strong affection for the story grows stronger as my heart leaps and beyond.

Hope Is Eragon

I haven't read the Christopher Paolini novel when I saw the film.

I enjoyed Eragon. I found it exciting, with beautiful photography and cinematography. The sights of the valleys and mountains, the raging rivers and gentle streams did much to enamor me of the beauty of the film.

Here we have a young man who lives with his uncle, and his closest friend (his cousin) is running away to stay away from the Empire Army recruiters. Our hero discovers something amazing, which leads to his family being killed by the evil Empire and he goes on the run with the older man who is going to teach him how to use his newfound powers.

The charming boy (yes, he is charming to me!) who played the lead character is a newcomer from what I've read, and his inexperience is easy to see. But what is also easy to see is the latent ability that he has. Like one columnist said that "The kid has a future, if he chooses the right roles and finds the right mix in himself".

I loved Dragon Saphira (voiced by Rachel Weisz), who conveyed everything from frightful innocence to downright bloodthirstiness. She is not someone you would want to tick off. And I loved the way she and Eragon communicates - through telepathy.

I enjoyed it, I loved the sequences of the dragon-riding and the final battle between dragons almost got to me. Good film, a bit violent for young kids, but worth the time and money for older kids and adults. No, it's not Shakespeare nor Tolkien, this one was written by a young man named Christopher Paolini when he was only 15, now he's 23 turning 24 - yeah, we're of the same age.

There is so much hope in this movie. That, I think, is a precious thing that this movie has conveyed - there is still hope no matter how doomed life seems to be.

Cycles

Love is staying committed no matter how difficult the "cycle" has become through the years. In our case, 3 years - almost 4 in 2 a couple of months.

Raves vs Rants

The squinting of my eyes and their distance, I can feel it.
The trembling leaks out of my throat.

Notice that its in my body language
That far off look - at people, buildings not at you.

You caress me with your tongue that makes my gut wrench
The compliments make me sick - distort me.

This can be very destructive - all of this.
I am melodramatic and how angering I can be.

You are right, I am left.
We are different from each other - yet, we hang on.

The clots trouble me big time.
I can feel them in my throat - I whine.

I read somewhere, this will come to an end too.
When will that be?

With all the drama in my head,
They just sit there, somewhere.

I am raving,
Yet I am ranting.

Extraordinaire

Am no ordinary worry wart - I can blab all the details here and I bet, like all the others, you'd probably give me a dry look. I have seen loved ones give me that drudged look everytime I'd voice out what preengages my code-filled mind. What can I say, I am spellbound.

For several months now, I am having what some would coin as quarter life crisis. And yes, this year, I'll be 24 and yet am still quite dubious on which road I should be hoofing on. I have seen/heard several 30 something people whine about not being able to entrench their life when they were still in their early 20s. Shaks. I don't want to caught myself whining about that too! I mean, life is too short to sparsely settle with such medicority and meaningless decisions.

Don't get me wrong, I am not rushing things nor am a perfectibilian. I am still young and I know that there is a better life that awaits me, I just have to be very patient and savor every single moment that passes by but given the reality that some things are undeniably turning uncomely here, I cannot help but yearn for a better life (Heck, who does not?!).

Those who are patient enough to crack my complexities, know very well that am saving up big time for the offing. I have plans to be a full time homemaker. Cheesy as it may seem but I really want to see my kids grow right before my eyes and yes, try to to be the best wife that I can ever be.

I swear, 'tis so beyond words. I am just glad that I have such earthly angels who never seem to grow tired giving back my life and I know that, to borrow a line from an old song, God must have spent a little more time on me.

In the meantime, am trying to squeeze all the best thing that school has to offer. 'Tis time, am no longer studying but learning.

Me: Inside Out

I am a simple yet complicated kind of girl. Wonderfully complex, that is.

Being different is not an issue to me and yes, I prefer to be "very unpopular". Like the moon and everybody else, I also have my dark side - I am a brat and can be a complete Delilah, most especially when the situation calls for it. Go ask my beau, Elis. *wink

I have no qualms about being dark. I don't have to be fair skinned to be beautiful. I have the sensibility and salvo for the finer and deeper things of life. I value intellectual companionship, especially from those able to understand my deeper essence. I can be so babaw and talk about the usual stuff too but I will never pretend to be stupid. I am known to be somebody who always find beauty in intellect. To understand something is a must for me.

I have my own peculiarities like I don't sleep with the doors and window open, lights on and without my meme. I have the tendency to over think everything. I hate dogs, cats, mascots, clowns and roaches. I can be painfully shy and such a crybaby. I don't drink coffee - ever. I am a sentimental basurera at heart although I have changed a bit - I no longer have ex-boxes, baby!

Surprisingly, I am not relationship-phobic. I can always trust and forgive - however, I do not forget. I have the tendencies not to compromise - especially if I know am right and have done nothing wrong. I will never be caught intimately kissing a woman - yes, of the same gender. Sorry but that's so gross to me.

At the end of each day, I come home to a very warming thought that I am very committed (okay, "in love" is apt) to that man who, most of the time, is willing to see my views while opening my eyes to his endless perspectives. And that man loves me back.

I LIVE, LOVE and LEARN!

Mail From Mom

Published note below is kinda so last season already. But I thought it would be nice to post it here, in case Mom will finally have the courage to visit this.

You see, I am an email person. I comminucate with friends, fiends, family, classmates, professors, my supervisors, other relatives and of course people I haven't seen in years through email - you know yahoogroups and all the works. As much as posisble, I try to check my email often but then there are certain circumstances that I don't have the luxury to do it, most espcecially if I am stuffed with so much work to do and when I get home, I'd rather sleep and spend "kulitan" time with my siblings than check my email and go surfing.

Receiving email messages (not the hate ones, oh please!) from people I know who are thoughtful enough that they manage to hit me a note or two, never fail to put a smile on my face. Ahhh those forwards? Even if these annoy me, at the end of the day, I am glad that people still care about me.

My 53 year old Mom, is a computer geek. I swear. She knows how to reformat machines (PC and MAC), burn cd's, install programs, update Anti virus softwares installed in our PC and to top it all, she uses YM to chat with her friends and batchmates both from Manila Science High School and Assumption College. She loves to flood my Inbox with all those Inspiring Stories, stress relievers kind of stories and even Erap, Gloria and all those hilarious Gary Lising jokes.

This morning, I received another email message from her. It was actually a poem, am not sure though if she wrote it or just another forward. But nevertheless, I swear, I cried a river as I read this piece. My officemates went crazy when they heard me do the sniff sniff. Haha.

I am at my proudest and cannot thank God enough that me and siblings are blessed with such loving parents.

Here's how her missive goes:

Katrina,

I can't protect you any more.
I can't make your hurt go away.
I tell you I love you and show you I care.
I try to help out when things don't seem fair.

But my power as a mother goes only so far.
I can't always reach the places you are.
I want to be close like we were before,
But you want to move on -- to discover what's more.

When you were a baby, I'd hold you tight,
And keep you forever within my sight.
I could satisfy your every need,
It was an easy time for us indeed.

And when you were a toddler and scraped your knee,
You'd hold out your arms and run to me.
I'd kiss where it hurt and make it feel fine.
A hug and a kiss worked every time.

It was me and your Dad that you always turned to then.
I wish it could be like that again.
But now when you're sad you turn away,
And I don't know what words to say.

You're my little girl, but you're growing up fast.
I feel you slipping from my grasp.
I want to hold on, but I know it's time
For me to let go of this child of mine.

I long to protect you, to shield you from pain.
But I have to remind myself time and again,
That you have to experience life on your own,
While I stand back and leave you alone.

You're still so young, but you've already found
How other people can be mean when I'm not around.
Some people tease you and call you names.
They make fun of you and play cruel games.

I tell you not to worry, that it'll be alright
I tell you to be brave, yet I can't make things right.
I try to listen and to hold you near,
To give you solace and allay your fear.

I try to be there when the going gets tough.
Sometimes growing up can be so rough.
But I also feel proud of the person you are.
I know that you're strong and that you'll go far.

I realize it's time to start letting go.
I've taught you so much of the things that I know.
As you step forward, I'll take two steps back.
It's not easy for me, but I'll soon get the knack.

I'm letting go, but I'll never be far.
You can always reach me, wherever you are.
I watch you proudly as you start on your way.
My love goes with you as we start a new day.

You are one of God's greatest gift to me.
Thank you for making me proud always.
I Love You,
Mommy

Fated Return

I went down to feed my aching stomach and lo to my flabbergasted self, I saw a shadow of my past or should I say, he saw me. A shadow from my childhood memories, those crazy, playful "Tink" days. He went up to me and said "Hi, Kuting!", at first I was unable to recognized his odd, bedimpled face but in my mind I thought or I knew that I've seen him somewhere in the past. I was really in shocked and didn't know what to say because for one, I am already starving to death that if I did not even squint my eyes, I would've thought he's one great food and the only thing I could utter was "I'm sorry. Do I know you, sir?" - with that Atenean accent huh! And this food err boy err man.. whatever, said was "Why? Its me Rafael! Whatever happened to that unforgetful Tinkerbell? You're forgetful now?"

I was still so blank as I stare on his face and then the light suddenly grew as the moon rises on me who he is and who he was in my past. Oh my! He looked so different now. He's no longer that "tabachingching" in my Tink days. I could feel my heart in my throat and all that I could blurt out was "Maryosep! What happened to you? You're payat na ha?!"

Colored flashbacks keep coming in. Colorful memories. Rainbow Connection.

The last time I saw him was in 1993, we were in 4th grade and 6th grade respectively - I am the younger one. The last time I ever talked to him was in 1999, few days before our High School Graduation Day.

He used to be my pog playmate and one of those "beauty and brains" in the boys' department. He who played one of the Lost Boys of The Neverland while I played the part of Tinkerbell. He who liked to tease me for absolutely no reason at all. He who was my constant caller. He who first asked me out after class but I declined. He who first asked my Dad if I can go out with him ( I was in 5th grade then).

And then flashbacks no more.

Though he is almost 26 now, he meets new people and new enterprises with the impulsiveness by which his boyhood friends remember (including me) him. He never seems grow older. We ate together and I watched Raffy, sitting in front of me, so smooth and sunny and well- cared for, and thought of how he used to run around the school gym with so much dirt on his white polo. Prrrtttt! And then have to leave, I still have a lot of analysis to do, you know.

When I turned my back to my cube, that dining place seemed pleasant than before. Raffy had left something warm and friendly on that place, How I loved to hear his laugh again! And before I could sit down on my office chair, the miracle happened; one of those quiet moments that clutch heart, and take more courage than the noisy, excited passages in life.

I thank God for the many earthly angels that come in and out of my life.

Coolness

Honda's ad for the Honda Civic
Production of the commercial began with the team recording the new Civic to ensure the sounds the choir made were faithful to the real sounds of the car. The next stage was to gather 10 singers to experiment with the various sounds. This involved a complex process of taking one sound at a time and breaking that down into different component sounds. These individual sounds were then orchestrated for the choir so each member was voicing a different part. This was an extremely long and challenging process and had to be repeated for every single sound in the commercial, and then learnt by the choir. The whole process took six months from recording the sounds of the choir, experimenting with a small choir, and then rehearsing with the whole choir and learning the final piece of music.

Check out this link - I'm pretty sure you'll like it as much as I do.
Honda Civic Ad