Because I'm not writing as much as I used to...

I really should write more often. There's a lot on my mind that unfortunately has not been put down on paper. Since it's pretty late, though, I'll keep this short.

My friend Mao is unfortunately ending her blog. I've always been fond of her way of writing and how profound it is. She's always been a better writer than I ever was. Now that she's left for America I fear I won't have any means of checking how she's doing. But if this means she becomes "personally independent" then I am nothing but glad for her.

The last book I bought was Ha Jin's novel "The Crazed." Ha Jin is at it again, with his bleak prose and simple situations, this time illustrating the failures of an academic mind trapped in 1989's China.

Try as I may, I am still having difficulty living my day-to-day life with my brains and emotions detached. If only that were realistically possible, things could be so much easier. But no, there's gotta be something for my character here somewhere. I should stick this out and see what happens.

My biggest consolation is I've made a new friend. I took the chance to get to know her as a human being and I am delighted with what I have discovered so far.

Celine was right when she told me over lunch that the best relationships are those that are effortless to begin and maintain. This is precisely one of those cases.

I am young and still have a lot ahead of me. I should stop wasting my time and punishing myself for things I can't do anything about.

Denying nectar

I stroll through shop upon shop, wishing I had the money. I flitter between them, the hummingbird that I am, looking at all the gadgets I desire but not committing to any, knowing that they will be the cause of my financial failure.

I must cut on my expenses.

Yesterday I had my racket re-strung at Toby's, bought the "Music and Lyrics" OST CD, Case Logic's CD visor/organizer and some Armor All glass cleaner.

I feel like I spent too much already. Sigh. This vicious conflict of envy vs. finances will never end.

This is a start though. At least I am thinking about something else, no longer as mired in my heartbreak.

Music and lyrics...and how to move on.

At work, we got to watch "Music and Lyrics" on DVD over lunch. I never got to watch it in the cinema.

The movie was every bit as good as it was touted to be. Hugh Grant as a fictional '80s pop star has-been is very believable, and Drew Barrymore is exceptional as a subtle comedienne. Both sing pretty well, the songs are great soundtrack material, and Hugh's dance moves are both laughable and endearing in their tackiness. There's quite an age gap between them, but in the running time of the movie I conveniently forgot that because it didn't matter. They have good chemistry.

That's not the point though. The reason why I enjoyed "Music and Lyrics" so much was it spoke to me very clearly, about what I should do about my heartbreak.

In a sense I'm a lot like Barrymore's character Sophie Fisher. In many ways, I'm still living in a fairy tale, and when things aren't going the way I want them to, I'm ill-equipped to deal with them. But when things go wrong, the film taught me the absolute worst thing I could do is to be self-indulgent and brood in depression for far too long.

Why am I still in this rut? I may finally have an answer. There are things I wanted to happen, things I wanted to tell her, and I will never have the opportunity to make them reality. There are so many what-might-have-beens that plague my mind, keeping me fixated on her like some kind of addictive narcotic and preventing me from moving on with my life.

I am ultimately punishing myself---and what for? I gave it my best shot and I failed. I would have regretted it even more had I not tried anyway. I have to accept with finality that it will never be, that I deserve to be happy again.

This leads me to the final realization "Music and Lyrics" taught me. How will that girl out there know that I am passionate about her? She will know when I show her that she changed me. She will know when I do something so unusual, so out of character, so stupid even, that it will speak to her heart more directly than any amount of blatantly overrated physical intimacy.

I am as hopeless a romantic as ever...

Return to relative normalcy

I think
It's getting to the point where I can be myself again
I think
It's getting to the point where we have almost made amends
I think
It's getting to the point that is the hardest part

And if you call, I will answer
And if you fall, I'll pick you up
And if you court this disaster, I'll point you home
I'll point you home

You think
I only think about you when we're both in the same room
You think
I'm only here to witness the remains of love exhumed
You think
We're here to play a game of who-loves-more-than-whom

And if you call, I will answer
And if you fall, I'll pick you up
And if you court this disaster, I'll point you home

You think
It's only fair to do what's best for you and you alone
You think
It's only fair to do the same to me when you're not home
I think
It's time to make this something that is more than only fair

So if you call, I will answer
And if you fall, I'll pick you up
And if you court this disaster, I'll point you home

But I'm warning you, don't ever do
Those crazy messed-up things that you do
If you ever do, I promise you
I'll be the first to crucify you
Now it's time to prove
That you've come back here to rebuild...

- Barenaked Ladies, "Call and Answer"

Charmed, I'm sure

After the recent victory came an unexpected surprise.

There are actually girls out there who think I am crush material.

What can I say? I'm actually flattered. I guess I have my charms after all.

The victor's prayer

It's funny how the elation of winning sent me into a contemplative state I don't normally find myself in. While Paolo enjoyed himself by playing a casual game with his friend Lilac, I went to the bleachers...and prayed.



Let's start with the obvious: I thanked God for giving me my very first tournament victory.

I also sought forgiveness for indulging in things I shouldn't (I think I'm done with that), and for having been a moody, lost, lonely asshole for quite a while.

I prayed for my leads, Celine, Mervin and Gracey, and wished our project would just finish already.

I prayed that no matter how tough, I might finally let go of my bitter heartbreak---something I've never been good at. It's no longer healthy for me and everyone else involved. Besides, I should have better things to do.

I prayed for Gracey and Paolo, perhaps my best friends at work, and how I wish they'd never get sick of my eccentricities. I wished they'd keep me as their friend for as long as possible because they probably don't yet know how much I appreciate them.

After meeting a new friend in one of the most extravagant ways I know, I've realized I'm actually very lucky and blessed. I prayed I wouldn't take all of this for granted.



Funny, indeed, that I just had to find the time to pray for all this after winning.

A loser no more

Today was the culmination of all our preparations. Today was the first Accenture All-Men Badminton Cup, held at Yonex Philippines Badminton Club along Shaw Blvd.

Paolo Cruz and I didn't have any idea what we would be up against. This is literally our very first tournament as partners, although we've been playing together as a tandem for at least a year. We were put in Level 6, squarely in the middle of the 11-level field of 166 competitors. After signing up, we each got a spiffy white and gray sweat-wicking jersey.

Before each game, we traded our usual lines of pep talk...with respect for two of the greatest badminton players of our time.

"Go, Lin Dan," I call out.

"Go, Taufik," he hollers back.



Things in Level 6 didn't get off to a good start. For the three elimination rounds, only two games will be played per match, so if you lost one the best you could hope for is a draw...and pray you scored higher in the points tally. Our first match was just that---a draw, although technically we won by two points.

We were feeling the pressure of the tournament. I couldn't hit and smash the shuttle as cleanly as I wanted, and Paolo was having trouble moving around because we were always worrying about the score.

Our second match was a lucky break. The pair we squared off with was apparently mis-leveled, because in their words we "massacred" them with straight wins. Paolo and I really think they should have been in Level 8, but we won't argue with a legitimate win.

The third match pushed us both to our bending points. Thrice, the referee made very wrong calls in favor of our competitors. The frustration and disappointment were obvious on Paolo's face, while I got incensed enough to throw my racket into a flat-spin after the bad calls and a particularly bad play. We almost lost that win for a draw, considering our opponents weren't really as good as the first pair of the day. We ended the elimination round with two wins and a draw, which meant we were in the semifinals.



We finally found our groove in the semifinal game. This time, it was two out of three games to a match, which is how we normally play. Our opponents were much older, but they were quite good. I was enjoying myself so much it took me a while to realize I was chasing shots I should have been ignoring. They were traveling too long and already outside the court. A hard-fought victory was ours in two straight games. Already Paolo was elated with the thought of reaching the finals.

Just as we were about to watch the higher-level players in the semifinals, we were called for our final game. The same friendly referree from the semifinals was calling the game as fairly as he knew how, and it was reassuring to see none of the third-game fiascoes would rear their ugly heads.

Our opponents this time were very good, and technically they had a larger arsenal of moves. Twice, Paolo and I were caught out by a cleanly played cross-court net shot, in near-identical fashion. Unfortunately, my defensive clears and smashes, paired with Paolo's agile feet and scathing kills, were more consistent. I even managed to spring surprise responses to their serves. Not even my Adidas Samba Millenniums getting doubled-up soles in mid-game stopped us from taking the hard-fought victory.

We hugged each other in exhilaration. So this is how winning feels like. We are CHAMPIONS!



We arrived as wide-eyed tourney newbies. We went home as Level 6 champions. And I really could not have done it without Paolo.

He busted his ass out there by chasing the shuttle as diligently as he could, while I mostly remained at the back court for defense and an occasional attack. He has a wider range of shots than I do, too---I'd be in hot water if I tried any of his net play so I'm content with power shots.

We talked about joining future Accenture Badminton Club tournaments, notably the ABC Cup this December. By then we'd have to improve our game---more so for me than for him. But as early as now, I'm sure we won't have any problems working with each other.

We're best partners.

Thanks, Lin Dan.

Because I'm a hopeless geek...

This is the first YouTube clip I'm posting on my blog, and it's all about the Gundam experience. Funny how this huge empire of merhandising started on April 7, 1979, with a young boy called Amuro Ray and his overwhelming curiosity.

It's also fitting that a remix of the original Gundam opening theme "Tobe! Gandamu!" is used for this clip, showcasing most of the protagonist mecha all through the years.

Enjoy!

Something to be happy about

Despite all the moping, depression and heartache I endure, today certainly gave me a little something to smile about.

As usual, after singing at the mass I zipped to Power Play for badminton with Paolo, Randolph and Karlo. Before going there, though, I picked up Gracey along the way. Little did I know I would be acting out the same part as that British tour driver we met from Orange County back from our 2005 California vacation. Since Gracey told me about her knack for getting lost in Manila, I began spouting off street names and landmarks just in case she had to commute to somewhere.

My right ankle and left knee were in some pain and fouling up my game, but I managed to enjoy myself at the courts, despite not moving around as well as I wanted to. It was fun losing myself in the game, with friends to laugh our asses off with.

With Randolph and his girlfriend splitting early, the rest of us decided to head on to Robinsons Place Manila to have dinner and watch "Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer." To my peepers at least, this is a lot better than the first Fantastic Four movie because it's very well-balanced. The Silver Surfer a.k.a. Norrin Radd kicks major ass, too.

Paolo and Karlo split from us when the movie ended. I brought Gracey back to Guadalupe, where I served as tour guide once again because I drove back via a different route.

I certainly had fun. This seemingly negated all of the loneliness and depression I was feeling the whole week. It's only a pity it had to end, but man, what a day.

Someone told me I could never be friends with people from work. Today was proof to the contrary. Thanks, guys.

Those magic words

I've never seen "Bridget Jones' Diary," nor have I ever read it in its full form (bits and pieces, yeah), but one line in that movie/novel has me currently stupefied by its depth of meaning.

"I like you. Just the way you are."

Think about it. It isn't as abused as the dreaded "I love you" yet has so much more "meat" to it. It also takes guts and a heckuvalot of conviction to say this and mean every word. Too many times, we say we love someone when we're actually in love with who we want that person to be.

And I've been guilty of that too.

I've put so much stock in what I wanted some people to become that too often I've failed to see and enjoy them as how they are. With me as transparent as glass, the frustration is so very obvious and it turns people off. Ultimately, the only people I get to appreciate as themselves are the few that stay long enough with me to tolerate my disappointments with them.

As much as I'm looking for someone to whisper those magic words in my ear, I should also be practicing its essence in my everyday life. I should learn how to let go of the iron grip of my expectations and simply let others be.

Which leads me to the second set of magic words.

"Live simply so that others may simply live."

The trouble with being different is...

"...despite every positive aspect, it's all too easy to highlight something negative."

Autocar UK wrote this on their road test of the Mazda RX-8 around four years ago. The RX-8 is a convention-bending car: it's a coupe but comes with four doors, has no B-pillar, seats four people, and to date is the only production car powered by a Wankel rotary engine.

So what are the negatives? Well, no B-pillar means its bodyshell tends to flex more than its competitors, which detracts from ultimate handling. And while the twin-rotor Wankel develops 228 BHP from 1.3 liters of displacement, it's got precious little torque, requires frequent oil changes...and let's face it, rotary engines were never fuel-economy champions.
***

The same can be said of "Turn-A Gundam," which I finished watching just this morning. Gundam as an anime franchise is known as a space war opera with cool-looking giant robots and lots of action. Turn-A doesn't fit in this mold at all.

A post-apocalyptic story with great emphasis on surviving with 20th-century technology and peace negotiations between the Earth and the Moon, it's the most akin to a Hayao Miyazaki movie out of all the Gundam TV series. Let's face it, you don't expect hulking robots to act as bridges and save cows---oh no, you'd expect them to beat the mechanical crap out of each other. And speaking of robots, the mobile suits in Turn-A are as far removed from a traditional Gundam as they come, as they were designed by American Syd Mead of "Blade Runner" fame. Mead's design of the Turn-A Gundam has a distinctive upturned crescent beard---enough to have Gundam fans crying sacrilege.

The tradition set by other Gundam series prevents others from appreciating "Turn-A Gundam" on its own merits. Yes, it's almost Miyazaki-like in pace and tone; that doesn't mean it's a bad series. If anything, "Turn-A" is the series that places the most emphasis on the characters---from front-line soldiers to the civilians to the politicians behind the conflict. It certainly drags at first, and its weirdness won't endear it to many, but "Turn-A Gundam" is proof that the franchise was at one point a human story, not simply a tool to sell kits and merchandise.
***

I wonder if the same rule applies to me. I wonder if I am so different from other people that they don't even bother to look for anything positive; all they see is the usual unfavorable first impression I make.

Frailty

Lately I've come down with a severe case of the mopes.

I feel I don't really belong anywhere. While that's nothing new, I'm alarmed that I'm still feeling this way at this point in my life, where I'm no longer an adolescent nor a student. No, this had to linger until I became your present-day salaryman, and I feel stupid melting with self-loathing in my cubicle while I see and hear people enjoying everyone else's company.

I guess I'm too much of a perfectionist. I have such high expectations that I easily get disappointed when things don't go as planned. It's funny how I don't like being with my family because I don't want to hear any nitpicking, but here I am dragging it along with me. Given that, it's probably no surprise why very few people actually like being with me.

Times like these, I feel how hard it is to be an adult. Bill Gates was correct, no one cares about your self-esteem...especially not your colleagues. I remember one of my old high school teachers telling me I was in such a hurry to grow up. Now I feel as if things are passing too quickly for me to catch up, as if everyone's in top gear on the unrestricted autobahn while I'm hesitantly driving with a learner permit. And I'm scared.

I want to talk to the few people I can truly call my friends, but it feels like I'm wasting their time. They've got better things to do than listen to me whine...or so I thought.
***

Cher and I had a chat after what seems like months. It's amazing how someone you've never met can make you feel so good about yourself, just because of the sheer belief and faith that you are a good person. She managed to do just that, and I am very grateful.

Everyone's scared, she told me, you're not the only one. There are simply too many uncertainties. I told her everything that was on my mind, all the loneliness, bitterness and the things I kept from everyone else for fear of further rejection, and it felt good to finally have someone to talk to.

One day within this year, I will visit her. Now that I'm working that shouldn't be such a problem. Thanks, fwend, for four wonderful years.

Now that I'm not broke...

Just as I was trying my best efforts not to spend, along comes my dear old Dad with a couple issues of T3 magazine.

Great.

I have him to thank for ditching the Nokia 5300 and having a new interest in a different phone: the Nokia 6300. My friend Jared actually already has not one but two of the things, which he brought with him on our last night out. Sleek, slender, simple and sonically inclined---what's not to like? Probably just the non-standard 2.5mm headphone jack, I guess. There's an adaptor here somewhere...

I was also poring over the digital music player section too.

Sheesh. Not a penny spent and I'm feeling guilty already.

"It's so damn hard to give you up"

This separation is killing me, you say
I should've thought that before I did what I have done
So easier to put the blame on you
I should've looked inside of me
But it's all in vain as I try to explain, she pulls away

We could've been more
Could we ever have these feelings again?
We should've been more
Maybe in time we'll realize that maybe
Fate reveals the remedies
Making it feel like it could be like the first time

Still the vision on my mind
'Cause now I realize it's so damn hard to give you up
No way out of this hole, can we ever have us back again?
Let's not start and put the blame part away
Can you honestly say that you can see me with another one?
Another one, another chance with you
I want more, I want more, I want more...

We could've been more
Could we ever have these feelings again?
We should've been more
Maybe in time we'll realize that maybe
Fate reveals the remedies
Making it feel like it will be like the first time

Regretting it now, can fate reveal to me?
The questions to why?
Reveal the remedy

Could've been more, should've been more
Maybe in time we'll realize that maybe
Fate reveals the remedies
Fate reveals the remedies
Fate reveals the remedies
Making it feel like it will be like the first time
Just like the first time
Just like the first time

- Urbandub, "Reveal the Remedy"

Not so charming.

Everybody has their own way of charming people. You, you've got your wit.

So said my friend Gracey.

Apparently my "charms" are all but lost on my colleagues. I don't know if they're too pedestrian to appreciate what wit I have, or if I'm too far removed from them to understand that what I have to say is actually supposed to be funny. Either way, there's got to be truth in both, and so I give up. They're good to work with, but work is work.

What's important is I have found my comfort zone, thanks to Celine and PJ. I don't want to get out of it, no matter how evanescent the people in it may seem.

Yes, work is work and I have to remember I have a life outside of it. I have to see my old friends more often.

Denise...if you're reading this, I miss you a lot. Take care, and I'd love to ask you out next week.

Maybes.

Maybes.

Maybe it'll hurt a lot less if I don't see you on a daily basis.

Maybe I can finally get over you if I no longer felt the compulsion to sneak a glance at you every day.

Maybe I can finally convince myself that behind the comely appearance you're really nothing special.

Maybe I should start being a jerk.

Maybe it's time for a distraction on the highest scale.

Maybe I should stop torturing myself.

Bummer. I'm an addict and I'm having withdrawal symptoms. I have to stop before this kills me.

End of summer.

End of summer.

It's the end of May and the rains have come back with a vengeance.

The other day I spent so much time making U-turns because not even 200 meters from the office, Pioneer St. had turned into a huge, pickup-swallowing deep puddle. The appalling thing was, all the on-ramps going to the Skyway in Makati were similarly flooded too. Here was my ticket out of certain gridlock at SLEX, but Mother Nature conspired to keep me away from it.

At least it's useful how it's become a lot cooler though. Just when the heat was becoming unbearable, here comes a useful douse of cold water.

Anger management 101...

Anger management 101...

It's no secret that I am very quick to anger. Most people can do the Edward Vogler act and size me up this way in three seconds. It seems no matter how hard I try to distract myself from getting pissed off, I'm just too damn transparent to be 100% successful.

So I really, really wonder how people who are exposed to even more stress and humiliation than me can withstand it all and still keep a straight face, only breaking down when they think no one's watching. What do Celine and Grace have that I don't?

I really wish I could learn how to dismiss things and say they're not worth my annoyance. "It's just work." "It's just a game." "It's just a bad day for driving." Uttering those things and meaning them is actually pretty tough to do on my part.

More than cheap

More than cheap

My wounded heart is trying to find solace in the most unexpected of places.

I thought it was just a cheap, sordid hangout where party people converge. But I was pleasantly surprised to see there's a lot more to this place than what most people think. It was comforting to see its residents willing to share their stories of happiness and heartbreak in more complicated circumstances and it was so intriguing to hear them bare their souls.

All I did before was lurk. Maybe this time I'll stay longer and become more involved. It's nice to see the people here are human after all.

This place shall remain nameless.

A couple of little updates, for now.

A couple of little updates, for now.

I haven't had much to post in recent history but I'm glad to announce Cher won her second term as councilor in her home town of Isabel, Leyte. Congratulations, fwendie. Make your townsfolk proud. *HUGS*

In other news...

I have to wonder what my dad was eating when barely two months after buying a 32-inch Toshiba REGZA LCD TV, he buys another 32-inch LCD TV---this time a Sony Bravia unit. It wasn't alone either; it came with a 800W-max surround-sound system too. Coming from one of the most frugal people I know, this behavior is just plain deviant.

Farewell, WHH-687.

Farewell, WHH-687.

The whole time my folks were in Bohol for vacation, my mom had left her new FD1 Civic wedged in our garage and the old SX8 City at her office parking lot. She had to because she fetched her new ride. Now that they're back and my mom's found a potential buyer for my old car, she decided we should bring it back home.

When we got there, it was in need of a wash, with water stains smeared all over the windows and bodywork. My mom dropped me off at the lot and I slipped the key into the ignition. The instant I shifted into reverse and let go of the clutch, I realized I had forgotten how short the travel on the City's clutch was, as it bucked, hungry for more revs.

Initial idle awkwardness with the clutch aside, my final drive of the City reminded me of the good old days. Next to all of our current cars it looks and feels decidedly old-school, save for perhaps my dad's Trooper. The steering is still at the right weight, the car's still at its pointy best, and the rorty D15B7 engine still reminds me that my Jazz lacks 30 HP to be truly fun. The Jazz's infinitely better stock sound system reclaims a lot of brownie points though.

Surprisingly enough, now that I've grown accustomed to economy-mode driving, the old City's perfectly amenable to an early-shifting life below 2500 RPM. I decided I'd have none of that though and gave the City an Italian tune-up---a trip to redline in second gear along EDSA.

Wonky clutch, loose rear-view mirror, dents, rust and surplus aircon aside, my old SX8 is still a pretty damn good car.

I will miss WHH-687 terribly.

Birth of an audiophile

Birth of an audiophile

It's been a couple of nights now that I've stayed in my Jazz a little longer after getting home from work.

Perched on my seat, I fiddle with the settings on the Pioneer DEH-P7950UB head unit and marvel at just how adjustable it is. It's not the ultimate car audiophile's head unit---there are other, more obsessive-compulsive Pioneer HUs for that---but I don't know of many that have bass boost, subwoofer control, three-level loudness and a full 7-band graphic equalizer with 2 custom presets. It's also got 3 pre-outs so it's got a lot of room for future expansion.

Leafing through the owner's manual, I'm gobsmacked at how this thing is such a great piece of convergence technology. Out of the box, it's ready to accept a lot of add-on stuff, such as a Bluetooth adaptor, a multi-CD changer, a DVD player/monitor, and even a TV tuner. That's in addition to its support for auxiliary audio inputs, USB devices and iPods (with the appropriate cable). Most of this add-on gadgetry will make me broke, and personally I'm already happy with the USB connectivity alone.

Speaking of USBs, I hooked up my 256MB USB flash drive loaded with WMAs and MP3s and I was slightly disappointed with the sonic quality. Compressed audio files have their limitations, it seems, and playing them at higher volumes shows just how many "holes" they have sonically. Raising the recording bitrate helps preserve the quality, but to these ears they're ultimately no match for a proper CD. Still, there's something to be said about hooking up a large external hard disk with more space than an iPod for a lot less money...

Paolo, who accompanied me to Autoline for the installation, says he's jealous of my new toy. Wisely, though, he says he's sticking with his tried-and-true Pioneer HU until it breaks down. He's now tempting me with replacing my stock speakers for better ones, but that will come in due time. I don't have problems with the "cheap" stuff that's on my front doors' kick panels, apart from slight rattling under bass.

I also begin to see his point about spending good money on car audio. Too often I've lost my cool behind the wheel when I could have easily cranked up the volume and listened to good music instead.

Aural gratification finally comes...at a price.

Aural gratification finally comes...at a price.

After six weeks of frustration I finally have my very own Pioneer DEH-P7950UB head unit.

My timing couldn't have come any better: when I drove up to Autoline's shop garage this afternoon with my high school friend Paolo Campos in tow, I would eventually claim the only remaining unit in stock. The installation went very quickly, with the center console totally opened, wiring harness hooked up, head unit installed and everything closed up again in a matter of thirty minutes.

The damage was PhP12,000. Now my wallet definitely needs time to heal. I feel a guilty tinge about this whole purchase, but Paolo comforted me by telling me it's an investment.

It's worth putting in a word about the shop. The owner of Autoline was a nice Chinese guy with a lot of stories about his own ride and equipment. He was trying to sell me on other things such as speakers and tints, but I had to take a rain check on his offer. Still, he had good stuff on sale, such as a set of reverse sensors (very practical on my car!), HID lighting kits and a smattering of component speakers and subwoofers. Those will have to wait until Christmas, I guess.

Anyway, I am definitely going to spend the next few months on "budget meals" mode. In the meantime, it's worth sharing that I had the money for the Pioneer head unit a couple of months in advance. Perhaps due to my frustration of not finding it, and the corruption of having that much money in hand, I ended up spending a lot more than I strictly should have, and that's not cool.

Guys, don't make the same mistake: if you can't find what you're looking for, put it back into your account. Don't let a large sum of money sit idly within easy reach. You don't know how quickly that will get depleted.

Too many wrong turns!

Too many wrong turns!

The other day I missed my turn going to the Power Plant Mall. I ended up going to the unfamiliar side of the Makati-Mandaluyong Bridge, and had to take a U-turn at a narrow side street to get myself back to familiar territory.

Today, while searching for Paolo Cruz's badminton place, I wandered even farther off. I misread the map and motored toward Lerma St. and Quiapo Church before realizing I was at the wrong side of Espana Avenue. Attempts to get back on line had me lost again in Manila's side streets.

I have a knack for getting lost, it seems. Unfortunately it's an expensive affliction...not one I can afford to do now that I have to get back to saving money.

When I did get to Power Plant, though, I played four games each of Battle Gear 3 and Dance Maniax 2nd Mix. I've gotten a lot better with BG3; I can finally perform drifts and not crash too often in the tight Akina mountain pass now that I know where to brake, turn and control my slides with the throttle. As for DM2M, it's been ages since I played it, or gotten any decent exercise at all, but I'm still the flamboyant player using both my arms and legs.

That "workout" was a preparation for today's badminton game. I met Ran and Carlo, Paolo's friends from college, and had a good time playing them. Unfortunately I ran out of steam so early, due to the heat and fatigue from the other day, and so I lost to Carlo on both our singles games. Better to peter out now and build it up later than do it any closer to our coming all-men's badminton tournament in June.

Even so I'm planning to do this as a weekly thing. It'd be miles better and cheaper compared to wandering aimlessly around malls like I've been doing the past few weeks.

I might even make 500 km on my current tank after all, too.

Chicane...finally!

Chicane...finally!

Back in the halcyon days of 2000 when trance was still on heavy rotation in clubs, I found a few choice artists whom I'd eventually follow in the electronic music scene. The likes of Paul van Dyk, DJ Ferry Corsten (aka System F), William Orbit and ATB filled my consciousness.

By far the hardest to follow was Chicane, the alias of British writer/producer/DJ Nick Bracegirdle. Everyone else I mentioned had already released new material.

I managed to bag his phenomenal 2000 album "Behind the Sun" a long time ago, with the now-legendary collaborations "Saltwater" (with Maire Brennan) and "Don't Give Up" (with Bryan Adams), and a smattering of excellent ambient mood music. Since then I was unable to find any other works of his, past or present, apart from the odd mixed track of his in mixed Ministry of Sound CDs.

So you can imagine how lucky I felt when my manager friend Anton invited me over to his cubicle and said he'd burn me all his old Chicane MP3s on CD. (Many thanks man!)

Most of it includes stuff from the now-impossible-to-find 1997 debut album "Far from the Maddening Crowds," and even the live album "Chicane: Live at the Paladium."

Best news so far, though, is the announcement that Chicane is finally releasing a new album after seven years, with the current title "Somersault."

Two's company, three's trying too hard.

Two's company, three's trying too hard.

We got to watch Spider-Man 3 after work tonight.

While this sequel is all whiz-bang effects and offers a nice twist to old Spider-Man favorites like Gwen Stacy and Eddie Brock/Venom, I can't help feeling Spider-Man 2 was better.

It was the more cohesive film plot-wise. "Two" never pretended to be anything else but a growth spurt for Peter Parker, right up to the flickers of the final scene. You can feel the scriptwriters ran out of ideas trying to cram all these elements together for a fitting finale to the Spidey trilogy, and the end result wasn't as clean nor as definitive as I hoped.

It's unfortunate that the Mary Jane-Peter relationship was a travesty here when it was the reason why Spider-Man 2 was so good.

A shame. Oh well.

Garage barrage.

Garage barrage.

I drove up to our front gate this evening to see another new Honda adopted into our full garage. This time it's an FD1 Honda Civic 1.8V in the color I recommended, Habanero Red. Unfortunately it's not going to be mine; it's going to be my mom's new ride after ceding the 2002-model ZZE121 Toyota Corolla Altis to my sister.

That didn't stop me from sampling the new car for a bit, though. While all-new, the R18A i-VTEC engine sounds deliciously like my beloved SX8 City's D15B7 engine, with a similar metallic thrum and whine absent in my Jazz's gruffer L13A3 twin-spark lump. I set the driver's seat to my dimensions and sat in the back room, where it dispelled any notions of the spaciousness of my Jazz. There's just a lot more legroom back there. I gave a thumbs-up to the major controls, interior bits and integrated audio system, but a year after test-driving one, I'm still ambivalent about that broad dashboard which will take a lot of getting used to.

With this new development, this means I am driving the only car with a manual gearbox...and with the least amount of power. It's not much to complain about when you do 300 km to a half-tank, however. My, how my automotive priorities have changed...

The City is sitting in my mom's office parking lot, and my mom was telling us she got an offer to get it despite the dents and rust. For that car's sake, I sincerely hope the owner treats it well. It's been a dependable partner to me and a definite source of driving lessons and pleasure, no matter how old. My only regret is I didn't take care of it as religiously as I should have, but I'm sure it won't let its future owner down.

I question thee, thrice.

I question thee, thrice.

Sometimes I question the value of overtime when I can get just the same amount of work done in the normal eight-hour shift. Overtime is enjoyable, yes, but my body's taking an unnecessary beating because of it.

I question the value of voting in elections when I know full well that beneath the glossy veneer of popularity and campaigning, the candidates are all the same corrupt, immoral liars regurgitated ad nauseam. Apart from making sure no idiot votes under your name, why vote at all?

I question the emphasis of people on a car's peak engine power output when it's an expensive endeavor exploiting all of that urge. Let's face it, nowadays most of us don't have the time or space to do so, let alone the money. Why not buy a car that'll mangle the least amount of money from your wallet in running costs?

Triviality is a waste.

Triviality is a waste.

I know my weaknesses, my character traits and why people like or dislike me. I care too much about pleasing others.

Well, maybe I can start living with myself now.

The only reason why I've felt so wretched over the years was because I could never accept myself for who I was. So what if I'm not exactly what I say I am? Nobody is. So what if people say I'm immature? Who can say that they are with a straight face? So what if I prefer being alone once in a while? No matter who you live with, loneliness is a fundamental state of being.

There are bigger fish to fry and bigger problems to face. Wasting my time and emotion on trivialities will only hasten the ultimate death I am already experiencing. They're not there all the time, but I'm glad I have friends who will pop in and out of my life and remind me that I'm not supposed to be as miserable as I feel.

Thanks guys. Perhaps this time around I can give something back.

The insomniac hypochondriac hits rock bottom.

The insomniac hypochondriac hits rock bottom.

Chalk another one up on the "rediscovering sleep" column.

I got myself horrified last Monday when, after lunch in Makati, I gingerly picked up my fork and watched my fingers and right hand tremble and shiver. My hands felt ridiculously weak. Great. Just when I took the day off, this thing had to happen.

The rest of the week I wasn't much better. I even came down with a slight fever and a persistent head cold by the time Thursday rolled along. Whenever I was well, I registered a strangely lower-than-normal body temperature of 36.5 degrees Celsius.

The doctor at work told me the most serious it could be was a thyroid problem. Yikes.

I'm glad that might not be the case, however. I took naps over the weekend and really slept in today, and the right-hand tremors have mostly gone. My regular grip force has returned too.

I was never a fan of sleep, but I can't deny now that I need a lot of it.

Gentle, man.

Gentle, man.

I may have found the way to extend my fuel economy more even in city driving. That's by going gentle on the throttle, gentle on the brakes, and not pressing the gas more than I strictly need to. In other words, it's a relaxed attitude behind the wheel. Tuning in to 92.3 xFM certainly helps.

One week in and I'm glad to report I've run 130 km with the fuel gauge moving off "F" by the width of a pencil.

Looks like I'm on to something good here. Will I make 600 km before running empty?

Now if I could only play Massive Attack and William Orbit through my car's speakers...

Nice try, but I prevail.

Nice try, but I prevail.

I am very disappointed with you.

I have been nothing but nice and friendly to you the past four months. And yet yesterday you drove me to despair by making me feel everyone was against me. Worse still was the realization that it was only you who didn't want me in your cozy little "happy cube."

If that's not called rejection...go buy a fucking dictionary.

All day I felt the impulse to drop you a line filled with all the seething emotion I feel now. Discretion got the better of me, however. I will leave it up to you to make your own mistakes for people to see. I will leave you to your own devices because you will eventually expose yourself for the sham you are anyway. I don't even have to lift a finger.

How dare you tell me I'm immature...when this little game you're playing is taken straight out of my darkest days in sixth grade. You fail to see it is only you and your stubborn ways who have failed to accept and adapt, when everyone else has.

Befriending you was a mistake. I hope to God you grow up. I have little tolerance for brats like you.

Longing for the embrace to end all others.

Longing for the embrace to end all others.

I am sad once again.

I'm sick of talking and writing. Tonight, I simply wish that there's a girl out there who will accept me for what I am and hold me in her arms really tight and sing this song to my ear and mean every damn word of it.

This girl I know needs some shelter
She don't believe anyone can help her
She's doing so much harm, doing so much damage
But you don't want to get involved
You tell her she can manage
And you can't change the way she feels
But you could put your arms around her

I know you want to live yourself
But could you forgive yourself
If you left her just the way
You found her

I stand in front of you
I'll take the force of the blow
Protection

You're a boy and I'm a girl
But you know you can lean on me
And I don't have no fear
I'll take on any man here
Who says that's not the way it should be

I stand in front of you
I'll take the force of the blow
Protection

She's a girl and you're a boy
Sometimes you look so small, look so small
You've got a baby of your own
When your baby's gone, she'll be the one
To catch you when you fall

I stand in front of you
I'll take the force of the blow
Protection

I stand in front of you
I'll take the force of the blow
Protection

You're a girl and I'm a boy...

Sometimes you look so small, need some shelter
Just runnin' round and round, helter skelter
And I've leaned on me for years
Now you can lean on me
And that's more than love, that's the way it should be
Now I can't change the way you feel
But I can put my arms around you
That's just part of the deal
That's the way I feel
I'll put my arms around you

I stand in front of you
I'll take the force of the blow
Protection

You're a boy and I'm a girl...

- Massive Attack featuring Tracy Thorn, "Protection"

Independence, girl.

Independence, girl.

I am so, so proud of my old friend Beia.

It's been a long while since we last saw each other. She's found her "calling" as a teacher, living independently, finished her thesis and enjoying every minute of her independent single life.

She recently wrote a post (first of a series, she told me) about independence for female fresh graduates. While I am not in any way female, her post was a very very good example to follow for me. She mentioned budgets, mostly, and she's got it all down pat, even counting the occasional luxury or two from Mango. Oh well, girls will be girls. There's even a friend of hers who lived on a meager salary of PhP7,000 a month.

If I ever decide on jumping off the family residence to go solo, I'll follow her example to the letter.

Unfortunately I can't imagine living without a car---probably my singular biggest regular expense.

I am a pathetic little worm.

An ode to all that is sordid and cheap

An ode to all that is sordid and cheap

Here we are, as close as we can get
We're in too deep, it cannot be forgotten
It is more than curiosity
Your embrace did amaze me from the very start
Get closer till I hear the rhythm of your heart
You make a hard attack

No matter where, you get always in my hair
And in your lap lies paradise
It's not a matter of resisting
It's just a matter of existing with green eyes

This lust is a hell-machine
Devil's voice and gasoline
And I want you more than anything
This lust is a hell-machine

Get upset when I'm breathing in your pheromones
This desire is a curse and I want it more and more
It's all I'm living for
When I dream it's of you, about your lips and hands
When I wake it's a punishment I know that I deserve
It's tearing on my nerves

No matter where, you get always in my hair
And in your lap lies paradise
It's not a matter of resisting
It's just a matter of existing with green eyes

This lust is a hell-machine
Devil's voice and gasoline
And I want you more than anything
This lust is a hell-machine

No matter where, the feeling's always there
And in your lap lies paradise
It's not a matter of resisting
It's just a matter of existing with green eyes

This lust is a hell-machine
Devil's voice and gasoline
And I want you more than anything
This lust is a hell-machine...

- D'Sound, "Green Eyes"

A massive attack of boredom.

A massive attack of boredom.

I used to think that boredom would be the sole preserve of my summer vacations in high school and college. I never would have imagined that even after a year of being employed, I would still find myself utterly bored. Yet that's exactly how I feel right now.

Already I'm exhibiting the signs. I drive aimlessly on weekend afternoons and evenings after work. I'm spending a little too much too frequently. While some of those things I buy are necessities, there are also things I buy that strictly speaking I can do without. I'm plunking down my money on stuff when I should be setting aside my monthly savings cut from my not-so-large salary. And this is me not using my credit cards...

I've become a little scared of what I might do given this same state of boredom and the cash I have on hand. I just might give in to every temptation I've had for the past few months. While I've managed to hold off, there's no guarantee I won't embroil myself in things that might get me in trouble.

This emotional state is an expensive one, as far as I know. That comic strip being forwarded over my office email is true: I have no money and no life.

Over time

Over time

I thought I would abhor the thought of overtime. I must admit, even now I'm trying to avoid having it on my plate whenever possible.

But the past couple of days have seen me stay until at least 9 p.m. because our assigned project has gotten itself spectacularly delayed (through no fault of ours).

I was surprised to find it...fun.

Yes, all we'll get is an allowance, and yes, I can imagine getting burnt out after having too much OT. But I find it cool that these late nights are still spent with my great coworkers. That fact makes me dread overtime work a little less.

I even like driving late at night a lot more. I find the time to overshoot my house and keep driving to Sucat and return for the heck of it.

We've come...and gone.

We've come...and gone.

We never got lost while traveling the 175 kilometers going to Subic, Zambales. It's all thanks to Jerry and Donald who proved themselves to be very good navigators. Thanks guys.

If anything, were it not for the distance, the drive was actually pretty relaxing. Off the NLEX and all the way to Subic, the roads were generally smooth and well-maintained. Driving was an easier affair than it is in Manila, despite the challenge of the winding mountain roads we took instead of the Tipo Expressway through Subic Bay. We ran into crawling traffic at Lubao, Pampanga, but nothing else troubled us on the four-and-a-half-hour trip to the venue.

On the three-hour return trip, I had a blast driving with a full load of people and cargo through uphill stretches and overtaking slower traffic at 120 km/h. The whole trip had us returning 16.8 km/L---nowhere close to 28 km/L, but impressive considering the effort my little Jazz had to endure.

Enough about the drive. How was Club Morocco?

Personally I didn't quite enjoy this year's summer outing as much as last year's. Sure, Club Morocco has vastly improved facilities, but the activities and beach were both a little disappointing. There was no battle of the bands this year, and we were unlucky enough to arrive when it was low tide. Ergo, all attempts at trying to swim in the beach were spent wading in thigh-deep seawater and sinking in muddy sand. The ridiculously warm pool water didn't help things much either.

Still, it wasn't all that bad. Food was a little nondescript, but you could never say it was lacking. The outdoor games went a lot more smoothly this time around, and we had a live band performing onstage at beachfront dinner. There was even an open-mic session where a few brave souls sang their hearts out (Gracey, Paolo C. and I not included). PJ and the others drank to their hearts' content, but I called it quits after three bottles of San Mig Light at 11 p.m.

The big attraction though was waking up at 6 a.m. and walking along the beach. It was pretty damn beautiful. I'm going to shut up now and let the pictures speak for themselves.

Check out my Multiply site for more photos. Enjoy!

Nervousness before the road trip.

Nervousness before the road trip.

Tomorrow's the big day.

It's the company summer outing and I'm one of the idiots who decided not to join the bus and bring my own transportation going there instead. It's my first time driving to Subic and I am feeling pretty damn nervous.

After buying a couple of road maps and asking friends for directions going to Club Morocco I am still quite unsure of myself. No doubt I have the stamina to stay in the saddle that long, and I've made sure my Jazz will get us there and back (to the tune of a new battery worth PhP2900---there goes my budget for the new head unit). But I'm still pretty scared of losing my way. Even more than having a steady supply of music on the journey, getting lost is my foremost worry.

At any rate it's going to be a real adventure either way. Donald's riding shotgun with me and he's my navigator, and I'm supposed to pick up Jerry at Dinalupihan, Bataan, somewhere along the way to Subic. I'm also dying to know if I can get that phenomenal fuel economy once again, especially after my last fillup today returned a frustrating 10.056 km/L.

Watch this space for photos. Until then, pray for me, my friends, my colleagues, and our safety.

Acceptance: a lesson I learned today

Acceptance: a lesson I learned today

You're probably right, I made a mistake with you. I made the mistake of expecting more from you than what you could give me.

I tried avoiding you. I'll be honest; I was feeling a dizzying cocktail of emotions and not all of them were pleasant. I thought you felt the same way. But as the days wore on, I realized I missed talking with you, no matter how much we don't click at all. I realized the events of the past two months have made us friends, if nothing else, and that you've already shared with me what you will of yourself.

This morning we sat down and talked. I told you about my confused emotional state and how I no longer wanted to be upset. You told me you were upset with me and how my words had shattered you, but now it was gone. We shook hands and made up. We even chatted for a while afterwards. But now I know these chats won't last as long or be as involving as I wanted them to be.

Still, I am glad you're in my life. In your own way, you kept me honest.

Thank you, Jona.

Seeking a definitive diagnosis.

Seeking a definitive diagnosis.

What the hell is wrong with me?

My face hurts. My eyes are red and puffy. My nose runs like a leaking tap. My head has a dull ache. All these point to sinusitis and not enough sleep.

But I'm sure there's something else not on that diagnosis.

My self-control is shot. I'm in a lousy mood. On the road I pick fights with trucks and buses. I am irritable and very cranky. I am amazed by how quickly I can push people away from me. All I can do is sit back and watch idly by as another me acts of its own accord and ransacks everything I built up. I try to find explanations but all I can do is study this other self.

Maybe I'm just in a selfish phase right now. Today, I'm not the listening JM people know. I'm not the one who's generous with time or things. I want things. I want someone to listen for once. I want someone to care. I couldn't care less what your beef is, what your standing is with your previous lovers, what newfangled credit card you have to sell me over the phone. I just don't give a damn. I feel miserable and I want to stew in it. I want to lock myself in my room and play Sugar Free on maximum volume, while singing my heart out and not caring if I wake up and piss off the neighbors.

When will the study end? When will there ever be any acceptable explanations? Is this some sort of condition? Can I even be "treated?"

I now know why Rubik's cubes never appealed to me. I'm already too big of a puzzle to solve by myself.

Unfortunately people don't have the time or patience to help me along.

"I'm in the coolest driver's high..."

"I'm in the coolest driver's high..."

The Barclays summer outing is less than a week away, but I guess I got too excited about the prospect of a long drive to Subic and testing my Jazz's ultimate fuel economy. I also wanted to see if I had it in me to drive for an extended period of time.

So, purely on a whim, this sweltering Sunday afternoon I decided to leave Market! Market! and drive headlong to my dad's hometown of Baliwag, Bulacan...as a dress rehearsal for Subic.

I filled up my gas tank at Petron C5 where I learned my city driving the past week returned a rather pathetic 11.2 km/L. No matter, I thought. I will better this today.

Off I went, overtaking cars on C5 and EDSA on the way to the North Luzon Expressway (NLEX). This was my first time to use this road after its rehabilitation a few years ago. I paid a rather hefty PhP70 on one-way toll, but it was obvious where your money went. The NLEX is now a smooth, wide traffic-free ribbon of tarmac that's reminiscent of the better US freeways. As not too many people were on the northbound NLEX I cruised at a steady 100 km/h, with a few overtaking spurts.

I got off at the Sta. Rita exit, then navigated the long roads going to Plaridel, Bustos and finally Baliwag town proper. Along the way I overtook a lot of slower traffic and motorcycles, making sure that I kept the L13A3 engine spinning close to its 2800 RPM torque peak---uncharacteristically low-stressed for a Honda.

When I got to the Baliwag glorietta, I turned back and did the same thing going southbound. This time, however, I piled on more pressure on the throttle as I went down NLEX at 120 km/h with more aggressive overtaking at 5000 RPM. I did the same thing on EDSA and C5, leaving other cars in my dust.

I felt good during the four-hour drive. Despite the oppressive heat which my aircon struggled to banish, it felt really good just letting the kilometers roll by with me all by myself. This was me driving just for the fun of it, searching for what L'Arc~en~Ciel call the "driver's high." I was literally just driving my recent problems away.

Pulling up at the Petron station along Dona Soledad Ave., I noticed the fuel needle had barely moved from the "F" position despite my hard driving over 141.8 kilometers. I had a fillup of 93-octane fuel again. Barely a minute after putting the nozzle in, the pump had stopped after 5.06 liters.

Do the math and you'll see my Jazz returned a truly phenomenal 28.024 km/L.

This was better than my wildest dreams. It's easily more than double my city driving figure, and proved that despite my driving style, the Jazz is a supreme champion of fuel economy. It also pointed to the realization that maybe my pathetic city driving economy isn't just a function of my driving: it's also due to the heavy traffic on weeknights and the relative brevity of my daily commute.

While I thoroughly enjoyed today's endeavor, I also realize getting that driver's high is quite expensive. Notwithstanding the PhP140 I plunked down on toll fees, I also spent PhP1100 on the two fillups today---although the last one worth 5.06 liters cost just PhP190.

My pep talk for you, part deux.

My pep talk for you, part deux.

You know, we are in the same boat.

We both think about love more frequently than is healthy. We both know the pain of unrequited love: how it pulls our legs, takes us for a ride and then unceremoniously dumps us on the cold lonely sidewalk with a heart and head that refuse to work in tandem. Oh, how familiar it all seems to us.

We both thought at one point or another that we were wasting time on people whom we felt deserved our affection. Let me tell you: They were not a waste of time, effort or affection. They were learning experiences we didn't really sign up for but ended up taking anyway. I guess I should know, I just came from one.

We are basically a pair of lonely souls. We should not use this fact as an excuse to mope and curse the fates for our failures in love. Instead, we should stop wasting time this way. We should put on a brave face and live our lives as best as we can, for nobody else but ourselves.

You already know by now how I was and still am enamored by how beautiful your mind is, how it seeks to break out with this amazing level of creativity and independence. My only regret is I never asked you out on a date in the five years we had in common. In hindsight, however, perhaps it was for the best.

I am still a little surprised by how you called my belated confession of affection a "pep talk." That was...cute. Certainly a tidy way of putting it, I reckon.

I once wished a couple of years ago that you could continue making me your "constant listening ear" and "personal punching bag"...these were your own words. Regardless of our newfound distance away from each other, this offer still stands. I'll be right here and you know how to find me.

Take care of yourself, Mao. I will miss you.

It just isn't going to happen between you and a girl when/if...

It just isn't going to happen between you and a girl when/if...

• You are constantly walking on eggshells trying to strike a conversation with her. "Oops, that might be too invasive...no, that might be the wrong kind of joke to crack." You know the deal.

• You run into problems so early on just trying to communicate, and when you do it feels so stiff and unnatural.

• You are so gosh darn scared of offending her and have no idea what exactly might do so.

• You have no idea how she thinks, even after months of hanging out together.
  

• You can't even manage to make her smile or laugh of your own accord.
  

• She finds it strange that you send her text messages or emails instead of talking to her directly. Look, it's still the same message, just different media---what does it fucking matter?

• The sincerity of effort you put into getting to know her isn't reciprocated.

• You develop a nasty case of cotton-candy syndrome. The whole thing looks delicious until you bite into it, at which point you realize you're just eating air.
  

• You have absolutely nothing in common.

• You begin to think that maybe you really are from Mars and she really is from Venus.

• She's your colleague.

===

Ate Neysa was right. This is the last time I'm ever going to woo someone from work. What they say is true: familiarity breeds contempt.

I realize the workplace just isn't the best place to find love. Disastrous results guaranteed! Not even the foreknowledge of this fact mitigates the pain.

Yes, you were right, I made a big mistake with you. Then again, this is probably for the best. I gave it a shot and kept at it until it became clear that it was never going to work anyway. There was no shame in trying, no sense in continuing and no denying that the truth had to come out sometime.

Should I be sorry?

Mao bids farewell.

Mao bids farewell.

And so we went to Mao's despedida party at Taberna Otso in Quezon City.

Being the typical early bird I am, I got there an hour before anyone familiar showed up. No matter, I had good food and pasta to keep me company. Mao chatted with me for a few minutes. She was leaving for Los Angeles on Friday in hopes of work, most probably for good. She then left to tend to her many guests, most of them high school friends of hers.

Later that evening my blockmates Rachel, Denise, Kate, Catcat, Isa, Zeri and Tantan all piled into the place at the same time. Apparently they met up somewhere, got lost and managed to find their way to the venue. Bottles of beer and a glorious amount of noise and laughter followed.

I'm going to miss Mao. Fiercely independent, very creative and possessing a style that's uniquely hers, she certainly brought a lot of color into LC24, and I'm honored I got to meet her, even just for a short while.

Into the terminal and out of my sight.

Into the terminal and out of my sight.

Mao surprised us all a couple days ago with an announcement over my college blockmates' e-mail group. She announced a despedida party somewhere close to her house in Quezon City, with the title of her message being, ominously enough, "Leaving on a jet plane."

Apparently she's leaving for the U.S. for work. With that she joins a small but growing list of blockmates who are leaving the country for greener pastures overseas.

So this is how it ends. Will we see each other again? I would love to, but I don't know that for sure. Maybe I'll learn more by driving to the party tomorrow night.

I went back to forums after all...

I went back to forums after all...

It's been a while since I exiled myself from all possible forum websites. I thought I could get by with blogging and an unhealthy obsession with Friendster.

I guess I've had a change of heart over this, though. Lately I went back to my old haunt, PinoyExchange.com's The Pitstop forum. I also registered on a couple of forums I've never been to, the Kotse Audio Club (for my little car audio project) and GD United, a spinoff group from the Honda Club of the Philippines made up of GD-series Jazz and City owners.

What can I say? I guess being by my lonesome on the Internet got boring after a while. I figured it would also be good if I tried to start anew, with a new online nickname.

Sore in the summertime.

Sore in the summertime.

The heat is really getting to me.

Lately my head's started to hurt a little from the uncomfortable heat this summer. After going out, my first impulse is to plop into bed and have a good nap. I was even reluctant to go out this afternoon even if I wanted to, partly because I've been out a lot lately and partly because the heat saps the energy out of me. Even after taking a shower, a few hours later I feel dirty and gritty again.

Whew. I wonder what shape I'll be in at the summer outing.

Let's ride!

Let's ride!

Paolo rode shotgun with me today to seek out the Pioneer DEH-P7950UB head unit as he was more knowledgeable with car audio than I was. We were out on a limb going out on Black Saturday, as it's a neither-here-nor-there kind of day: some shops will be open and some won't be.

9:30 a.m. We rolled out of Paolo's house and into the highway. The Holy Week emptiness of Metro Manila's streets beckoned at my Jazz, and proved once and for all that it really is just a small city we're living in.

Our first stop was Makati, where we tried visiting a row of shops Paolo was familiar with. Unfortunately most of them were closed. I did get a PhP12,000 quote and a calling card from one of them, who agreed to send me a text message when they'd have one in stock. Afterward we proceeded to literally get lost while looking for two of the more popular shops we had in mind. When we finally did find the first one, it was closed, and we decided to just call up the other one in Pasig to determine if it was closed also (which it was).

We decided to go to Glorietta, buy my present for my dad, have lunch and look for a pair of retro Jordan sneakers Paolo wanted. It was surreal seeing Glorietta at 10:45 a.m. with 1/8 its normal load of people. We tried another car audio shop at the Fort, but it was also closed and we figured it was pointless going to its sister shop in Alabang, so we retreated to Paolo's house at 1 p.m.

It was then that Paolo's dad Tito Alex chimed in with a suggestion: why not go to Banawe? I had my reservations going to this mecca of surplus car parts. I've heard horror stories of people parking their cars there, only to return to them missing their side mirrors. I figure it would be worth the trip, though, seeing how free-flowing the roads were.

To prep for the trip we swung by the gas station for a fillup, where I garnered a disappointing 11.18 km/L. No matter. We were going to Quezon City this time, and the normally traffic-stricken roads of Sta. Mesa were cooperating very well!

We were amazed when we finally got to Banawe at around 2:30 p.m. None of the shops were closed! People were waving at us with pieces of car window tint. We didn't know which shops to stop at so we ended up making several U-turns along the length of Banawe St. Finally we decided to pull up at a nice place with a security guard watching over the parked cars. I was wary about the less-than-scrupulous hawkers Banawe was fabled for, but the shop we went to had friendly staff. I got a quote for PhP11,500 with free installation, but unfortunately the Pioneer HU wasn't in stock until next week either. I feel I'll be coming back here with Paolo next week though.

After that little adventure we drove serenely along E. Rodriguez Ave., Aurora Blvd., Katipunan Ave. and C5---all normally clogged arteries on weekends---to go back to the Fort by 3:30 p.m. and check out the Nike store there for Paolo's Jordans. He ended up buying them at a cool PhP7,500. It was nice seeing Bonifacio High Street being modeled after the open-air malls of Santa Monica in the US. Weakened by the heat and drowsiness, we were back home by 5 p.m.

Today I drove the most relaxing 98.5 km I've ever driven in city streets. If only everyday traffic was this free-flowing...but that may be asking for too much.

I'm getting excited about the 7950 finally making a home in my dashboard, but when we do make the return trip next week we'll have to contend with the crawl going to Makati or Quezon City once more. Oh well.

It's a "Good" Friday after all.

It's a "Good" Friday after all.

Closed shops and malls.

No local TV.

Fasting and abstinence.

Unbearable summer heat.

Sunburn.

Boredom.

For all the inconveniences of Holy Week, there's one good reason to stay in Manila: the near-total absence of traffic. For a few magic days, driving through the city streets can be a relaxing, calming, dare I say religious experience.

That's good enough for me.

Let's ride!

Thbbbbbt again.

Thbbbbbt again.

I cranked up the Jazz this morning only to find out the Kenwood's CD player refuses to load...again.

Apparently that new head unit can't wait.

Grrrrr. Talk about getting my hopes up.

A night out with the boys

A night out with the boys

I haven't seen my neighborhood friends Paolo and Jared in a very long time so I jumped at the chance to hang out with them before the brunt of Holy Week comes along.

We all piled into my Jazz and went to Westgate in Alabang, in search of a meal worthy of "The Man Show's" seal of approval. We stopped at Brothers Burger where we decadently wolfed down one-pound burgers and onion rings while chatting over the stuff we all used to talk about. Mm-mmmm. I'm glad Paolo's done with his thesis and defense, and Jared's now in DLSU as well.

After that we all went back to Paolo's place to hang around. Eventually we watched "Talladega Nights" on DVD with beer in hand. Paolo got to show off his own toy, a Fuji S2 digital SLR based on a Nikon body of sorts.

Let's do this again, dudes.

Good sound can wait.

Good sound can wait.

Three things:

1. Apparently my Kenwood's CD player actually still works. It's just very picky with what CDs it'll read.

2. The Sony CDX-GT460US head unit I was considering is overpriced and short on features compared to Pioneer's top-flight model, the DEH-P7950UB.

Like the Sony, it's got aux-in and USB ports (albeit at the back I think), and has the neat party trick of taking over a plugged iPod's controls via a special cable. Apparently it's so popular it's flown off shops' shelves and many places have problems keeping stocks. Damage is PhP11,300 for the HU alone, adding PhP1,500 for the iPod direct-connect cable. When you think about Sony's top-flight HUs costing PhP18,000, you can't help but wonder there must be something wrong with this picture.

3. Spending on good car audio can wait.

I was considering all my options after getting an aftermarket head unit, which frankly can now wait because the Kenwood's still fine. Do I get separates or coaxial speakers? If I did, where do I put the tweeters and midrange drivers? Do I get an amplifier? Where should I put the damn thing?

The speed at which I've become a car audio nut has surprised me.

Thbbbbbt.

Thbbbbbt.

Monday morning. I was honking along the street linking the Fort to EDSA, listening to "Clubber's Guide to...Trance" when all of a sudden the electronic beat stopped pouring out of my speakers. The silence that ensued was accompanied by odd mechanical clicks and whirrs.

Argh!

That's it. No more excuses.

I am buying the Sony CDX-GT460US head unit as soon as possible, preferably before April 21 comes around.

I am not wasting any more fuel on the ridiculously long trip to the Kenwood center, at least not in the near future. Sure, there's a three-month warranty on the repair, but it's a drag not having any driving music for a week while it's being repaired yet again. And do I even mention the gas wasted on Saturday morning EDSA traffic?

I have reservations on spending this much over the past three months (the DVD player, the Puma sneakers, the Jazz's tuneup), but I haven't exactly exhausted my 14th-month bonus yet so I think this might be the last major extravagance I'm treating myself to for a while. Besides, with the exception of the Pumas, they've all been necessary purchases.

Now if I can only find a buyer for a cheap, plain-jane CD-playing head unit...

Laro nga ba ito?

Laro nga ba ito?

Kahit ako'y nahihirapan,
Ika'y aking pilit pinakikinggan
Maski na wala kang hangad
Na kapitan ko ang iyong palad

Nakakatawa ako
Di magawang aminin ang pagsuko
Kahit sabihin mo sa aking mukha
Sa iyo wala na akong pag-asa

Sa iyo ako'y nalilito
Naiiwan akong parang sinto-sinto
Gusto mo ba talaga akong kausapin
Kahit na ang totoo'y dapat mo ako paalisin?

Ano ba talaga'ng gusto mong mangyari?
Tayo'y mag-away o kaya'y magkabati?
Wala na akong laang oras pa
Upang sa laro mo'y makisama

Sa laro mong ito walang nananalo
Nabibiyak lamang kayraming puso
Pagod na ako sa paulit-ulit na paglahok
At maya-mayang pagkain ng alikabok

At the Manila International Auto Show 2007

At the Manila International Auto Show 2007

Bored at home, I was online with Tita Vik and chatting about yesterday's visit to the World Trade Center for the car show there, among other things. On impulse I asked her if she'd mind going there again, as long as I do the driving.

By 2:30 p.m. I was at her front door, and about half an hour later we were at the WTC after slicing through the brunt of EDSA's Sunday traffic.

Tita Vik told me it was a good thing I visited today instead of yesterday because some of the cars, such as this very sexy black Jaguar XK coupe, weren't on display the other day. Apparently it was a clever ploy to keep people coming back.

Curiously there wasn't much aftermarket support in this show. Emperor Motorsports and Rota Wheels had displays of their own, but I was a little disappointed not seeing anyone specializing in audio/ICE setup or even aftermarket suspension systems.

There were a few surprises, though. Hyundai had its high-end Veracruz SUV (its rival to the Lexus RX330/350) displayed close to the entrance, and I was surprised to learn they're actually launching it here. Mercedes-Benz had its boxy Viano van on display, too. As expected, Honda's recently launched CR-V had its own space, but raising eyebrows were Mitsubishi's new Outlander and Endeavor SUVs. Mazda even had the new MX-5 displayed, with the newer power folding hardtop, and there were a LOT of Subaru Imprezas on the floor and out.

As spiffy as the cars were, however, they don't compare to Russ Swift's stunt driving session. Using a team of Subaru Impreza WRXes (GDB type-III), he was first performing 180-degree turns and side spins, parking perfectly into a head-on or parallel slot with inches to spare. Then he showed off his uncanny ability to drive the WRX on two wheels for a short time, with two, three and even four occupants in the car. He was even driving doughnuts and rings around a stationary Forester, with braking and acceleration inputs perfectly judged time and time again.

Before we left we had test-drives of our own at the Ford display outside the exhibition hall. I waited in line to drive the Ranger 3.0 XLT pickup around the simulated off-road course, while Tita Vik picked the Everest 3.0 as she drove the Ranger the day before.

This was my first off-road driving exercise ever so I was a little nervous as I boarded the Ranger. As it turns out, however, fording through water and clambering up loose hills was easier than I thought, thanks to the Ranger's mammoth 380Nm of solid low-down torque and tight locking differentials. All I needed was a light, steady press on the accelerator, and I even found the whole trip comfortable due to good suspension. Tita Vik was quick with the Everest, even managing to catch up to another Ranger driver.

Afterward we had dinner at Grappa's before I drove her home. Overall, definitely not a bad way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon. Thanks Hedwig!

Time for a little good old-fashioned rock and roll.

Time for a little good old-fashioned rock and roll.

I know that absence might make the heart grow fonder
But is it "out of sight, out of mind" I wonder?
And do you yearn for me when the nights grow cold?
Till death us do part, to have and to hold
I wanna give you my love, my love, my love

But is it just me or am I all on my own again?
You're up at John O'Groat's and I'm down in Land's End
On you I depend...whoo!

I see your face when I close my eyes
And there ain't no place like between your thighs
Don't want a life alone all by myself
To honor and trust, in sickness and health
I wanna give you my love, my love, my love

But is it just me or am I all on my own again?
You're in the Taj Mahal while I'm outside Big Ben
It's driving me 'round the bend

Forever and ever and ever amen!
I wanna give you my love, my love, my love
But is it just me or am I all on my own again?
Is it just me or am I all on my own again?
You're at the Vatican while I'm at the Yemen
And it feels like the end
The end

--- The Darkness, Is It Just Me?