On peaceful departure

I had quite a week. My hubby and I started it with a battle against flu. Fearing it was the dreaded AH1N1, the two of us rushed to the nearest hospital for a check-up. While at Makati Med, the TV in the waiting area was airing news report about the rising number of Swine Flu cases in the metro. Fortunately, what we had was just a regular flu triggered by our always-inflamed tonsils (see, even our tonsils are interconnected. Scary.) Nevertheless, we chose to stay home. We can't be too careful.

As we recuperate, the week continued with the sad news of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson's untimely demise. The original Charlie's Angel succumbed to cancer, while the King of Pop had a cardiac arrest.

Ironically, over the weekend, we've decided to watch Okuribito (Departures), a movie about about death . We hadn't plan to cap the weekend to "celebrate" death after our swine flu scare and the news about Fawcett and Jackson's death. It was the only film available in my archive (read: hard drive) that we haven't watched yet. It's been sitting inside my computer for more than a month now; I hadn't had much time to watch this film since I leeched it via Torrent (calling Edu Manzano). The fact is, I had second thoughts of watching this film, with it's dark and morbid theme.

I decided to grab this Japanese film merely out of curiosity. When it was named Best Foreign Language film at the Oscars, beating the frontrunner Waltz with Bashir, it piqued my interest. But I wasn't that eager to watch it, until only last weekend.

And midway through the film, I got stumped. I should've watched this film sooner, I told myself. It's simply one of the most beautiful films I've seen this year.

The film tells a story about a cellist named Kobayashi Daigo (Motoki Masahiro) who was forced to find a job in the countryside after his Tokyo-based orchestra disbanded. For a generous pay, Daigo accepts a job as a nokanshi or "encoffiner," much to the chagrin of his wife Mika and other people around him. As he masters the job as a nokanshi, he also learns the art of acceptance and forgiveness.

Now I understand why the Academy loved this film. Its quiet and eloquent story-telling can melt even the hardest of hearts, much especially during these times of global uncertainty. Just like the Oscar 2009's biggest winner, Slumdog Millionaire, this is a movie that celebrates love and life. Motoki Masahiro, with his nuanced and heartfelt performance, leads an impeccable acting ensemble. Also commendable is Yôjirô Takita's clean and fuzz-free direction. Joe Hisaishi's lush soundtrack provided the emotional chutzpah, especially during the heart-wrenching final scene.

I rarely cry during movies. But this one left a huge lump in my already-swollen throat long after the closing credits have completely rolled-out.

Official trailer:


PS.
(oh, and did I mention that Masahiro Motoki is as cute as a Japanese button?)

Returning to the blogosphere…

Making a comeback to the blog-o-sphere is a daunting task, dreadful even. First, there’s always this lingering question, “What am I going to write about?” Then, after figuring out the answer to that question, I started to doubt myself, wondering if I still have “it”.

You see, after the untimely demise of my Friendster blog a good two or three years ago, I promised myself that I shall never go blogging again. Yes, my first blog mysteriously vanished into the thin air, and those folks at Friendster (God bless them) can’t provide any clue why it happened. I guess there must be a Bermuda triangle hidden somewhere in the cyberspace and therein lies my poor blog. And to add insult to serious injury, I still don’t know the meaning of the word “back-up” then.

And now here I am, making a career comeback. I guess you can call me the Britney Spears of the blogging world, minus two sons and a kick-ass bod. And to go back to that previous question, as to what I should be writing about, well… uhmm.. I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t. My earlier blogs (yes, this is my nth attempt) were originally intended to be my online literary folios, but now, I guess I might be too old to write about poetry and stuff. A lot of things have changed since then. When I created my Friendster blog in 2006, I was a college professor. I still got soul then. Now, I’m just a robot, thriving in a corporate world where you are not allowed to think for yourself. In short, my work sucked the life out of me. I guess, creating this blog is my way to reclaim it.

I felt that I’ve already lost my creative mojo, and I wonder when I’ll be able to get it back. A couple of days ago, a good friend of mine, Ate Mabel, texted me. She said she was cleaning her room when she stumbled upon a decade-old college newspaper, and she marveled at the articles under my byline and wondered why I've stopped writing. In my reply, I told her that it would take time before I’ll be able to get my groove back.

Nevertheless, I’m just ecstatic that I’m finally starting to see my blog taking shape. I mean, it’s not perfect and all. My current blog entries are littered with clichés and grammatical errors; they’re nothing compared to articles I’ve written in the past. If I tell you that I used to collect journalism awards way back in college and contribute articles for the Philippine Daily Inquirer, I’m pretty sure you’ll say I’m just full of crap. But just like a proud momma to her baby, I’m very satisfied with my present blog. It’s perfectly imperfect in its own right. It may not match the depth and relevance of the blog of my former co-editor (and pretty darn good writer) Ysrael, or the insight of my sorely-missed friend Mahalia's, or the cool factor of my colleague Teng’s, or the humor of my fave blogger MisterHeuge's, or the wit of my fave director Jun Lana's, but just by rejoining the more than 100 million bloggers in the planet gives me a immense sense of pride. Yes, I’m getting there.

In a workshop, the multi-awarded screenwriter Ricky Lee once told me, “Write what you know. That all it takes”. And that’s exactly what I’m doing. Therefore, I don’t need to pretend that I know everything about politics or computers or Math. You may find me ranting about the results of American idol, or reviewing a current flick or a Milan Kundera book, or complaining about work, or commenting on some random YouTube video, or drooling on my newest Brazilian boytoy Bernardo Velasco. The topics may be as shallow and diverse as a kaning-baboy, but I guess that’s what I am.

So I guess I just have to keep on blogging and rally against inertia before I pass that darn Bermuda triangle again.

Oh, and please remind me to BACK-UP.

"So... what do you do EXACTLY?"

A couple of years ago, I left the academe to be a Telephone Banker. After a few months, I got promoted to Operations Subject Matter Specialist.Then I transferred to another company and became a Virtual Workspace Team Leader and a Presentation and Graphics Support Workforce Coordinator. Now, here at McGraw-Hill, I currently work as a Financial Voice Writer and Editor. (And yes, I'm currently blogging here in the office, so don't expect me to bag that Employee of the Year award anytime soon.)

Since I entered the outsourcing industry, I've always dreaded this question: so, Ken, what do you do for a living? Because answering that question means I have to go through all the trouble of reciting my career dossier in verbatim. And the worst part is, I don't have any idea what exactly I do for a living.

I wish I could just answer, "I'm a call center agent." But the fact is, I'm not a call center agent. It's a lot more complicated than that. Thanks to the outsourcing industry, more and more jobs are created with fancy titles; jobs I've never heard of when I was still in college.

So remember the million-dollar question our elders used to ask us when we were still little kids? "So, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Mechanically, I used to answer "When I grow up, I wanna be a lawyer." Well, I don't know what happened, but what I'm doing now is far from "lawyer-ing."

(Maybe I should've just answered "when I grow up, I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies. When I grow up, I wanna see the world, drive nice cars, I wanna have groupies...")

So I'd like to rephrase a famous song from a famous Doris Day movie:

When I was just a little boy, I asked my mother what will I be? Will I pretty? Will I be rich? Here's what she said to me:

Que sera, sera...
YOU WILL BE A COMPUTER GRAPHICS CONSULTANT AND ANALYST SPECIALIZING IN FINANCIAL DOCUMENT AND GRAPHICS PRESENTATION AND WHAT-HAVE-YOU.

WTF.

Another feather on Juan dela Cruz's hat...

For those who have been accusing me as a crab for my anti-Manny Pacquiao sentiments, here's something that I'm genuinely proud of. Pinoy auteur Brilliante Mendoza just arrived home with a freshly-minted Cannes award for his much ballyhooed opus entitled Kinatay. This isn't your ordinary Turkmenistan film festival or other run-of-the-mill competition. THIS IS CANNES.

I feel an immense sense of nationalism over Mendoza's triumph; I am a hundred times prouder of his achievement compared to Pacman's victory against that pathetic Brit. This is an entirely different boxing ring; Mendoza slugged it out with critics who deemed Kinatay as "unwatchable." Major film reviewers pan the film, including Roger Ebert, who said that the film is easily the worst ever to compete in Cannes.

Well, screw the critics. The judges were obviously impressed with Mendoza's work, and just for sheer effort, I applaud him. Here's a true-blooded hero who gives us a glimmer of hope that someday, we can bring back the glorious years of Philippine cinema. Critics notwithstanding, he represented the country not for the sake of money or fame or political ambition. Here's an artist who was able to beat cinema heavyweights like Tarantino, von Trier and Almodovar, despite limited financing from the government; a government who continuously charge a hefty sum (30% amusement tax) from our struggling film industry.

So, my dear Pinoys, there's much more to life than boxing and Aling Dionisia.

To the defense of Kris Allen

Since the boy next door won over the one with the guyliner, I've been spending a great amount of time debating with a lot of hardcore Idol followers. Is Kris Allen he rightful winner? The answer is a resounding YES.

I was one of those who almost peed in their tighty-whities when Kris was declared champ over erstwhile judges-annointed producers-pimped Adam Lambert. Indeed, it was one of those "WTF" moment in boob-tube that will surely resonate well in the years to come. However, afterward I felt an immense satisfaction with Allen's victory.

Kris Allen is not you're cookie-cutter Idol. When we speak in Idol-esque language, we always see a diva pop-star who hits those glorious notes like there's no tomorrow (Sparks, Jordin; Clarkson, Kelly; Underwood, Carrie), or a suave crooner who can sing any theme infused with the words "mountain," "rainbows," or "journey" (Studdard, Reuben; Hicks, Taylor). Kris doesn't need to screech or scream to hit those notes; he knows his strength and plays his cards (and guitar, and piano...) pretty well. He just your ultimate crowd-pleaser, who hits the stage as if he's just there to have fun, and not to compete with anybody. His effortless and unassuming demeanor is not typically an Idol quality, but Kris managed to make it work.

Moreover, he smashed the Idol machinery into pieces by breaking into the Danny Gokey-Adam Lambert-Lil Rounds troika. From the beginning, the show has been pimping these three contestants, ignoring those underdogs who do not have heartbreaking backstories that translate into ratings. Kris was one of those (along with Allison Iraheta and Matt Giraud) who failed to get significant screen time despite their obvious talents. Every year, we see how the Idol machine catapult the favorites to the end of the finish line, at the expense of more talented singers (c'mon, Blake Lewis over Melinda Doolittle? or Syesha Mercado over Carly Smithson? Seriously?). And while Kris can't belt out those high notes ala Glambert, the kid surely knows his music, making his own arrangements, picking great songs, infusing a lot of personality and charm with every performance. He does not need those sob stories to gain sympathy votes (cough, Gokey, cough).

Kris and Adam are both great singers though I would've been happier if it was Glambert swimming in a pool of confetti while singing that horrid Kara DioGuardi penned ditty during that fateful night at the Kodak Theater. But that is not to say that Kris Allen is not a worthy of the title.

This is exactly the reason why I don't want Pacquiao to win...

I don't get it. I know, we should be proud of the People's Champ, but why the euphoria?

If Manny wins a seat in the Congress, I'm afraid more people will die.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 die of heart attack during Pacquiao bout

By Marrah Erika Lesaba, Jeannette Andrade, Edwin Fernandez
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 16:33:00 05/03/2009

Filed Under: Pacquiao, Politics, Weather, Television

MANILA, Philippines – (UPDATE 2) Three people died due to heart attack from excitement while watching boxing hero Manny Pacquiao beat British Ricky Hatton on Sunday, police said.

In Batangas province, 64-year-old tricycle driver Francisco Lalongisip, collapsed in his neighbor’s house at around noon, at the same time Pacquiao knocked Hatton down, said Police Officer 2 Amiel Sanhi.

Lalongisip, a resident of Ilat South village, San Pascual town, was pronounced dead on arrival at the Bejasa General Hospital in the same town, Sanhi said.

Lalongisip was so excited about the fight that the first thing he did in the morning was to go to his neighbor’s house to watch the television broadcast, Sanhi said.

In Manila, a 49-year old Vic Ocampo also died of a heart attack at a Manila hospital just as he rejoiced at seeing Hatton fall on the canvas.

Ocampo, a resident of 1154 Casanas Street in the Sampaloc district, was watching the free showing of the live Pacquiao-Hatton match at the Dapitan Sports Complex along with other boxing fans when he collapsed at around 11:50 a.m., just as Pacquiao knocked out Hatton in the second round.

Ocampo was rushed by standby medics to the University of Santo Tomas (UST) Hospital, where he was declared dead on arrival by attending doctors, said Senior Police Officer 1 Arnulfo Amor of the Manila Police District (MPD) Sampaloc Station 4.

In Tantangan town, South Cotabato province, 52-year-old farmer Rolando Cabang fell to the ground gasping for air at the start of the second round, said Senior Police Officer Armand Nuno of the town police, who is also a relative of the victim.

“It’s his fate,” Nuno said, adding that relatives should have prevented Cabang from watching the fight.

Elsewhere in the Southern Luzon region, politicians used the Pacquiao- Hatton fight to advertise their names in several cable television channels in Laguna province as sponsors of the live fight from Las Vegas.

In Cavite City, about 1,000 people gathered to see the fight at the town stadium. Xyzie Ybañez, one of the spectators, said local politicians running for the 2010 elections provided the venue for the free viewing of the fight.

“Our wait was even longer than the fight,” she said.

A parish in Laguna had to move the regular meeting of the parish pastoral council in the evening as officers needed to witness fight.

Romeo Velasco and wife Luisa left their hometown in Calamba City in Laguna, Sunday, to make sure they would be early at the Pasig Sports Complex to see the fight.

He said that as early as 6 a.m., the line for the free viewing reached about two kilometers.

In Pila town, Laguna, two suspected drug pushers were arrested as police continued patrols during the Pacquiao fight, said Senior Superintendent Manolito Labador, Laguna police provincial director.

Rat Pack turns... gay

I looooove the standards. There's something about big band music and guys in suits and tuxedos that make me swoon in sheer delight. Or maybe, it's just the 65-year old guy lurking in me. On a karaoke night, give me the microphone and I'm sure as hell I'll be looking for "Sinatra, Frank" in the songbook. (Though I'll definitely skip "My Way". Here in the Philippines, people get murdered singing that song. Seriously.)Or Buble, Michael. Or Connick, Harry. (Connick=Hot)

So imagine my excitement when I learned that this week's American Idol theme is Rat Pack. Well, maybe the others weren't as excited as I was, but I thought, wouldn't Kris Allen look adorable in a suit? Then again, Kris looks adorable in anything, so that's a foregone conclusion. I also knew that Matt Giraud would slay this one, and, much as I hate Danny Gokey, I believe the theme suits The Bestpectacled One well.

Then, there's Adam Lambert.

Can you imagine Freddie Mercury singing Sinatra? Neither can I.

But fortunately, Glambert, with his signature tongue-sticking and howling-til-you're-deaf somehow worked. Our gurlfriend brilliantly sang "Feeling Good," combining the versions of Buble and Pussycat Dolls (you know PCD covered this, didn'tcha?). Well, not as brilliant as his take on "Mad World" and "Tracks of my Tears," but still good enough.

And I was right about Gokey, who, this time, deserved the accolades from the judging panel. His personal spin on "Come Rain or Come Shine" proved that he can be inventive, though for me, he's still overrated. Kris Allen performance was charming, but safe. Allison Iraheta did pretty well, but The Last Girl Standing didn't get that much love from Simon.

I'm quite certain that Matt Giraud will get the boot this time. The judges cant' save him now.


PS. I have a feeling that his blog will turn into another American Idol fanblog. I'm a sucker for this show. It can't be helped.