The Bayonologues

To my friends in real life

Sun, 27 Jan 2013 03:53:14 +0800

I know I haven’t been physically around for months. I wasn’t there when your boss patted you in the back for a job well done. I wasn’t there when the cute guy in the grocery store opened the door for you. I wasn’t there when you moved in to your new apartment. I wasn’t there when you and him broke up. I wasn’t just there - when life was and is gradually happening and unraveling for you.

For this, I humbly apologize.

I feel that I am at a critical phase in my life when the world is so ungenerous to me, of time and moments and the in-betweens. I am always running against the ticking of the clock, and that the hours are like grains of sand on my hands - swiftly being blown away by the winds of deadlines and to-do lists. Perhaps I am severely guilty of work-life imbalance, and right now, I am in no position to have a cure for it.

I miss you friends in real life, and I feel like Sylvia Plath right now - reeked with sadness for missing out in the most exciting twentysomething moments of your lives. We’re supposed to be out there together, conquering one adventure at a time like the plans and dreams we carefully wove in our imaginations back in college.

I am sorry for taking an inevitable solo flight.

All I ask is that you don’t forget me; that for every laughter or tear you encounter in my absence, remember that I am thinking of you. Always.

When I finally have my time and myself back from this odd, irregular world I signed up for, I hope it will be like how it was before the crazy schedules and flux of life came in - just you, me and the genuine friendship we have.

Sincerely,

Char

Let’s catch up thru my instagram photos. Been to places...

Tue, 25 Dec 2012 22:06:00 +0800

Let’s catch up thru my instagram photos. Been to places because of my work :)

Dearly beloved

Tue, 25 Dec 2012 19:56:00 +0800

I’m writing to tell you that I am alive and well, and probably am in my best living condition to date. I can’t begin to write about the past few months of my life because it’s quite difficult to sift through all that huge dosage of life experiences. In addition to that, I think that perhaps in the process of carping that diem, I may have lost my mojo in writing and chronicling my history. You know, blogging has its obligation to sticking to the aesthetics, accuracy and color of a certain memory one is writing about. I don’t want to reduce the past few months into a bland, understated paragraph.

Let’s just say, dearly beloved, that if people keep on saying that “in the end, everything will be all right” then maybe this is the end? Because right now, this warm fuzzy feeling in my chest is telling me that everything is good and right and pleasant. So this is how it feels - to bask in the belly of life, to prance in the beauty of existence, to understand what it is to be human. It took twenty-one years for the universe, and the stars, and the cosmos to conspire to grant me the wonderful privilege of this feeling. Have I even lived before this?

If my words ring true and breath runs out of my lungs in this end, I wouldn’t mind lying on my grave with this feeling of having truly lived.

This year, I am a champion at winning in life.

For the yuppies

Mon, 15 Oct 2012 23:07:00 +0800

I call this playlist “Songs For The Idealistic Post-grad With Existential Crisis.” Hands up if you’re one of us. The best time to listen to this playlist is during your morning or evening commute, while you’re staring outside the window of the train/cab/jeepney (and coincidentally, a plastic bag drifting through the wind appears… and you have a strange empathy towards it) and you feel like you’re inside a Sofia Coppola movie. Click here to download!

Track list:

1. Imagine the Dragons / It’s Time

2. Death Cab For Cutie / The Sound of Settling

3. MGMT / Time to Pretend

4. Bob Dylan / Changes

5. Switchfoot / American Dream

6. Empire of the sun / Walking on a dream

7. Jimmy Eat World / The Middle

8. Scouting for girls / Famous

9. Foster the People / Houdini

10. MGMT / The Youth

11. Eddie Vedder / Society

12. Noah and The Whale / L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.

13. OK Go / This too shall pass

—

And here are some words of wisdom from Charles Bukowski.

Bull’s-eye!

Post-grad blues: Month 1

Sat, 13 Oct 2012 23:32:00 +0800

I just turned a month old at the television network I’m currently working for. As expected, it has been quite difficult with all the life adjustments I have been accommodating lately.

For starters, I am working in the mainstream media and I sometimes feel that I am a fish out of water, like I’m doing participant observation, or doing an ethnography to confirm or deny the speculations I have of mainstream media. I am used to criticizing it and shunning it back while I was still an undergrad in UP, and now, here I am. I’m one of them! I can’t help but result to the proverbial mainstream vs indie comparison because my first job was after all, an indie film production. Things were different. People were passionate about what they’re doing and I am certain they weren’t there for the money (because there isn’t much). Sometimes, I ask myself - why am I even here when I don’t subscribe to their way of thought. But then, I remind myself that I’m here precisely because of that.

Being the new kid on the block is not the best feeling in the world. When I was in grade school, I always felt bad for the transferee, having to sit through lunch alone, while everyone else has his own cliques to exchange stationery papers and inside jokes with. Well right now, I am that lonely transferee kid. It takes time to socially warm up, especially in a professional set-up. We’re not there to be barkadas anyway, but to make a television show. But of course, it never hurts (and it helps a great deal) to be friends with the people you work with even outside the workplace. This is something I will continue to work on. I believe it is a serendipitous thing to find someone who shares the same wavelength as I have, so I am keeping my fingers crossed for serendipity to take place.

And of course, there is always that issue of proving to colleagues that I can deliver a job well done. As a post grad, nobody knows who you are and how good (or bad) you are. They don’t know what mountains you have moved when you were in college, or how many bacons you’ve brought home (because it doesn’t actually matter in the real world, unless it’s something so grand like an international award of superhumaness). You. Are. Starting. From. Scratch. Tabula rasa, baby. This could either be a good thing or a bad thing. In my case, well….. I’m not so sure. All I know is that I can do so much more than ordering food and photocopying (Important note: I’m not saying this is all I do. This is for illustrating purposes only).

Well! I have to make a conclusion now and I don’t have one. It’s on-going. A few months from now, I don’t know if “this too shall pass.” For anyone who bothers, I will keep you posted. For the meantime, here I am, trying to enjoy the view of Filipino glitzy showbiz from the bottom of the pyramid-pyramid (Charice reference! Hahaha).

So this is how it feels to be a starving artist keeping a day job. The life!

PS. I have resolved that I’ll be infinitely happier to go home after a long day of work and find a fat cat curling on my bed. Cats are God’s gifts to us! They are stuffed toys that breathe! Somebody get me a cat please :(

Death Cab For Cutie / The Sound of Settling This is what the...

Mon, 08 Oct 2012 01:30:45 +0800

Death Cab For Cutie / The Sound of Settling

This is what the voice in my head is singing to me during my morning commutes.

Moonrise Kingdom (2012) This is not a review for the Wes...

Sun, 07 Oct 2012 23:30:00 +0800

Moonrise Kingdom (2012)

This is not a review for the Wes Anderson film (because the generally accepted opinion is that it’s lovely, and I agree). This is an appreciation of the filmmaker’s consistent aesthetics and attention to detail (!!). Its story of young love & innocence left me lighthearted, but it was its visual feast served in a golden platter of 16 mm cinema that definitely made the film. Every frame is an artistic portrait in itself if you screen cap it. You just know that a great amount of thinking and creativity were induced behind every sequence.

Sigh.

Watching this film last night made me think about where I am right now, not creating any sort of art at the moment. I am a starving artist of every definition. It’s hard to emulate Wes Anderson in mainstream media.

Dear future ex-boyfriend, with love from your future psychopath...

Sun, 07 Oct 2012 18:55:34 +0800

Dear future ex-boyfriend, with love from your future psychopath ex-girlfriend

Pep Talk

Sun, 09 Sep 2012 05:44:00 +0800

Now that you are beginning the fulfillment of your dreams, be idealistic for as long as you can. No, you won’t change the world, let alone this dog-eat-dog industry, because the chances of you single-handedly moving mountains in a lifetime is one in a million. A Steve Jobs, or (for a local counterpart) a Genny Lopez can only exist in this planet sparingly. You can’t overhaul the system and make everything good and beautiful and pleasant. You just can’t. Instead, remember that the little things you do today will contribute to the larger, collective efforts of a group of like-minded people with the same goal of improving this world These people consists your generation and you are a part of something bigger than yourself. Everything you do in this industry while you’re still alive, no matter how menial and petty it may seem now, will impact the future. It will be like a domino effect. The person you will become and the quality of work you do will determine the direction of the spiral. Will it be a downward, or an upward spiral? It’s in your lanky, damp hands little one.

You always wanted to set a goal for your life other than furthering your own ambitions, and this is it. You work in television, (still) the most important medium there is, and you are in the perfect position to serve a greater cause. Everyday, your countrymen spend a significant amount of time and attention to your medium. You provide knowledge, information, hope and inspiration. Television is influential. It has changed the world then, and it can still do so now.

So promise me that you won’t let them change you. You won’t let this become a money-making, ego-boosting game played by cynicism, apathy and greed.

Be idealistic for as long as you can until you get to that penthouse office where idea is power.

This is your generation’s calling. Do your part.

Your country deserves your best.

0813 PM, Neighborhood Cafe

Tue, 04 Sep 2012 20:13:00 +0800

I have taken the road less traveled (and deliberately avoided). I am terrified and scared and a part of me also feels numb. I think my brain is in my chest and my insides are coming out of my pores. I know it sounds gory and disgusting but I just can’t properly describe how I feel right now.

I want to remember this hour while I’m typing these words here in our neighborhood cafe, in the corner table with a plate of Cream Dory getting cold on the side. I want to remember this hour when I have this blank, empty slate in this new quote-unquote professional phase of my short life. I am starting at one. I am a nobody. I have the rest of my life in front of me.

Remember this hour when all the decisions I’ve made and unmade have pushed fate to bring me to this moment.

I remember this hour - I indulge in it, I savor it, I live it.

The future is happening soon.

O Me! O Life!

Sat, 01 Sep 2012 02:38:00 +0800

O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,
and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the
struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see
around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me
intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O
life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

by Walt Whitman

Make-believe world

Tue, 28 Aug 2012 22:04:53 +0800

Make-believe world

0237 AM, Queen size bed

Mon, 27 Aug 2012 03:40:00 +0800

My 3 AM thoughts:

1) I have always been jealous of the likes of Sofia Coppola who has a director for a dad. To grow up in a film set seemed very attractive to me. Last week, I started my training in TV Production Academy in the country’s undoubtedly biggest network. These are my first baby steps to the dreamy director’s chair. Someday, I will be able to give my children what I’ve always wanted and never had - to have a parent as a key figure in the media industry. I will raise kids in the set, introduce them to the stars and share with them my personal passion that is visual storytelling. They may not live in a first world Philippines by then, but my work will be my contribution to bring my country one generation closer to it.

2) There are so many things to look forward to in the months to come, but I will certainly miss this abundance of free time I have been enjoying. The past months were definitely not a time wasted. During those idle days of unemployment blues, I drowned myself in inspiration. But I did manage to keep afloat! I read a lot of fiction, went to different film festivals of different languages, discovered new music, fell in love with Mad Men and Marilyn Monroe (through Smash and My Week with Marilyn) and watched more films of different genres - from indies, to mainstream BS, and Oscar films to a Miley Cyrus flick! Through all of it, I made more sense of myself, and what I want in life. I learned that I am deeply enamored by the 60s, that my life sounds like a Sigur Ros song, and that I want to become a filmmaker who is a cross between Sofia Coppola-esque stories of existential crisis, Quentin Tarantino’s attention to detail and infamous long takes, Cameron Crowe’s knack for movie soundtracks and scores and Wes Anderson’s visual style.

In addition, I reconnected with my old friends, and let go of pretentious pricks.

There were a lot of impatient waiting and self-doubt in the past few months, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

Photos from my instagram. Do you see the pattern?

Mon, 27 Aug 2012 02:18:40 +0800

Photos from my instagram. Do you see the pattern?

Thoughts on 'On Chesil Beach'

Sun, 26 Aug 2012 16:35:00 +0800

“Love and patience - if only he had had them both at once - would have seen them both through.”

“All she had needed was the certainty of his love, and his reassurance that there was no hurry when a lifetime lay ahead of them.”

“This is how the entire course of life can be changed – by doing nothing. On Chesil beach he could have called out to Florence, he could have gone after her. He did not know, or would not have cared to know, that as she ran away from him, certain in her distress that she was about to lose him, she had never loved him more, or more hopelessly, and that the sound of his voice would have been a deliverance, and she would have turned back. Instead, he stood in cold and righteous silence in the summer’s dusk, watching her hurry along the shore, the sound of her difficult progress lost to the breaking of small waves, until she was blurred, receding against the immense straight road of shingle gleaming in the pallid light.”

Illustration by Tina Berning

Usually it takes me a week to finish a book, but this one only took me one and a half days. It’s a short read with only about 200 pages, but besides the length of it, the story is quite engaging. It tells of the first few hours of the honeymoon of a newly married couple, Florence & Edward, who happened to be virgins. It’s certainly a page-turner because I wanted to immediately gratify my curiosity if the couple did it, or not. The story is set in London in the 1960s, and sexual intimacy was considered a huge deal for a couple. A man had to marry a woman in order to, quoting the words from the book, “enter her.” Sharing this philosophy, I would say I felt empathy both towards Florence and Edward. The wedding night for people like me is a leap of faith.

I would describe the novel a story with too many sentences, but I appreciated how McEwan’s writing captured the beat of London - Oxford in the 60s. I actually ready it with a British accent in mind. This is my first read among his novels, but it isn’t the first time I encountered his work. Basing from the ending of Atonement and On Chesil Beach, I observed that he is not fond of that happily every after. Instead, he puts his protagonists in a position of remorse, of regret over his actions some few years earlier in the story - the consequences of which the protagonist would continue lamenting on as his story continues even after the last page of the book.

McEwan could be obsessed with that one life-altering moment on a fateful day, and the effects it could bring forth if not handled wisely. If there is one thing I could bring home with me after reading this book, it’s the hope that I would never be like Edward, or Briony, or any of his protagonists who, although eventually moved on, suffered an irretrievable loss that brought them a permanent bruise in life.

Everything I want is a cliche

Sun, 19 Aug 2012 20:26:00 +0800

I have been vocal that I have never fallen in love with a man in my twenty years of living. My heart is unscathed and safely beating in my chest. I have been learning about this beautiful thing that is love through conversations with couple friends and through films, music and books I encounter. I know I can never fully grasp it without experiencing it myself. Someday, in God’s perfect timing, I will.

For the meantime, I find myself giddy in anticipation of love while reading the autobio of Rob Sheffield, Love Is A Mix Tape. The way he wrote about Renee showed just how the love they had was one great true love. They didn’t have much dough, but they had each other and the music that brought them together. I find myself a little tearjerky when I read the following excerpt (it’s a little long so just bear with it):

Have you ever been in a car with a southern girl blasting through South Carolina when Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Call Me the Breeze” comes on the radio? Sunday afternoon, sun out, windows down, nowhere to hurry back to? I never had. I was windows down, nowhere to hurry back to? I never had. I was twenty-three. Renée turned up the radio and began screaming along. Renée was driving. She always preferred driving, since she said I drove like an old Irish lady. I thought to myself, Well, I have wasted my whole life up to this moment. Any other car I’ve ever been in was just to get me here, any road I’ve ever been on was just to get me here, any other passenger seat I’ve ever sat on, I was just riding here. I barely recognized this girl sitting next to me, screaming along to the piano solo.

I thought, There is nowhere else in the universe I would rather be at this moment. I could count the places I would not rather be. I’ve always wanted to see New Zealand, but I’d rather be here. The majestic ruins of Machu Picchu? I’d rather be here. A hillside in Cuenca, Spain, sipping coffee and watching leaves fall? Not even close. There is nowhere else I could imagine wanting to be besides here in this car, with this girl, on this road, listening to this song. If she breaks my heart, no matter what hell she puts me through, I can say it was worth it, just because of right now. Out the window is a blur and all I can really hear is this girl’s hair flapping in the wind, and maybe if we drive fast enough the universe will lose track of us and forget to stick us somewhere else.

I think these two paragraphs describe the kind of love I would want - stripped off of the drama and complications - no fireworks, no grand gestures, nothing extravagant. Just that raw moment between you and him, sitting there in the passenger seat and realizing (in the words of Sylvia Plath) that “you have fallen, and could fall no farther” into this beautiful mess that is love.

Aagh, everything I want is a cliche.

Gray

Wed, 08 Aug 2012 08:11:50 +0800

Dear all,

The weather has been a buzz kill lately. Classes, work and appointments have been cancelled. Umbrellas, booties and sweaters have been left outside the hallways to dry. The sun has been in hiding for the longest time and ten in the morning looks like six in the afternoon. With this kind of weather comes this wistful playlist that puts you in a timely mood.

Attributing the title to the downcast hues of the everyday skies, I call this the Gray playlist. Walk down the deserted, wet streets at night (if you’re nuts), with your earphones plugged in and your umbrella in hand and think of trying to disappear completely with the first track. We all have our moments to indulge in such feelings. But cheer up! Just as this playlist ends in a hopeful tone with Noah and The Whale’s acoustic instrumental Paradise Stars, the sun will come out soon, the flood waters will recede and you’ll get over that warm, fuzzy feeling. This too shall pass.

PS. While listening to this, go pack your donations for your chosen relief operation. Here’s mine. You can also visit http://www.redcross.org.ph/

Track list:

How to disappear completely / Radiohead

Friends, lovers or nothing / John Mayer

Night Time / The XX

Modern Man / Arcade Fire

Re:Stacks / Bon Iver

Message / Coldplay

We Give In Sometimes / Up Dharma Down

Not Alone / Augustana

Soul Meets Body / Death Cab for Cutie

Sentimental Heart / She and Him

Only got one / Frou Frou

Mushaboom / Feist

Foreground / Grizzly Bear

We can look up / JD Vernon

Paradise Stars / Noah and The Whale

Click here to download!

A bad dream.

Mon, 06 Aug 2012 09:04:00 +0800

“We’ll take up where we left off, Esther,” she had said, with her sweet, martyr’s smile. “Well act as if all this were a bad dream.”

To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream.

A bad dream.

I remembered everything.

I remembered the cadavers and Doreen and the story of the fig tree and Marco’s diamond and the sailor on the Common and Doctor Gordon’s wall-eyed nurse and the broken thermometers and the Negro with his two kinds of beans and the twenty pounds I gained on insulin and the rock that bulged between sky and sea like a gray skull. Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind of snow, should numb and cover them.

But they were part of me. They were my landscape.

Just finished reading The Bell Jar written by the astonishingly depressed poet Sylvia Plath. Raw, honest and vulnerable writing from a soul consumed by insecurity and self-doubt. I think Esther spent way too much time inside her head, and maybe that’s why I emotionally connected with her. But I just wish she gave the world a chance.

I did get bits and pieces as to why she considered the world a very bad dream. Maybe it was the early passing of her father, her ambiguous love affair with Buddy, or the superficiality of the fashion magazine world. But I didn’t fully comprehend the reason for her sadness. I believe it was meant to be that way. I can never totally understand where she was coming from. It’s the same with anyone’s state of being inside their own bell jars. Apart from ourselves, no one else will get it.

But then again, who am I to even just get a glimpse of her profound sadness? I live in the future.

The timeliness of reading this novel didn’t also harm my appreciation of it. To twentysomethings who feel isolated in a city of a thousand dwellers, this will be a good read. The only thing to look out for is that it could leave you as melancholic as the tone of the storytelling.

Nancy Wilson / Cabin in the Air (Almost Famous score)I have seen...

Sun, 05 Aug 2012 01:29:00 +0800

Nancy Wilson / Cabin in the Air (Almost Famous score)

I have seen plenty of films that have grown on me significantly, but nothing compares to Almost Famous. I rewatched the bootleg copy just tonight (after watching the first 2 hours on two separate days just because I feel like I’m living in it as long as it doesn’t end) and I love it even more the second time around. To me, it’s flawless, and I will forever be thankful to Cameron Crowe for it.

I sit here silently in front of my laptop, pondering as to why I have this strong affinity for this film. Maybe because it combines the elements of music, film and traveling. But I’m sure it’s just a part of the bigger picture.

It must be my empathy towards William and his pursuit of chasing his dreams. He was this young, naive kid enjoying the view in the middle of the ride. He crossed state lines he never thought he could reach (with a mother like that) and shared the same breathing space with people he never imagined he could rub elbows with. The cherry on top was his realization that there is so much in life and in the world to see. There are so many souls to meet, so many songs to be sung, so many backstage passes to take advantage of. It was all happening!

I feel like I’m William right now in my own little world. Maybe I should also look under my bed. Maybe it might set me free, too.

0349 AM, Apartment

Sat, 04 Aug 2012 03:49:00 +0800

At a job interview yesterday, I realized one important thing - growing up is like a time bomb ticking on you. The world demands that you figure your self and your life out by the time you hit line of two in the age timeline, and be able to deliver it concretely in one smooth, beauty pageant answer to the HR person asking you the routine questions.

I guess the time bomb has exploded right on my face.

The truth is, I am still a walking question mark. But I am not some sort of missile walking aimlessly on the face of the earth. I know I have my target locked. I’m just not sure how to get there, or if I am adequate enough to even get there.

Tonight, I browsed through the tweets of the Fab Five, the US Female Gymnast Team after their winning of their shiny, gold medals. I feel a tremendous amount of inspiration from these beautiful young girls who have reached the zenith of life at age sixteen. Everyone loves a dream-come-true story, after all. But at the same time, it has dawned on me that I have a tinge of envy towards these girls. They’ve figured it all out. Their lives have been planned out in front of them. They’re having fun (and winning) in the middle of the ride.

Now, I don’t wish to do splits and cartwheels on the floor like these girls. All I’m asking is that I would have some sense of security in myself and who and what I want to be in life. I don’t want to second-guess myself anymore. I don’t want to go around feeling defeated by the demons inside me and the limitations I put up for myself. I need to do a lot of progressive thinking. I can’t be caught blindsided by disappointment again and ignore it like an elephant in the room.

I know it’s not going to be anytime soon, but I promise myself that I’m going to make it (whatever the “it” may be). I’m going to wear a gold medal around my neck and be declared a winner at life. I just have to be the best version of myself, for the meantime. That’s all I have figured out for now.