Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Dizizit Pt. 4- Really, Dizizit.

The plane hadn't stopped taxiing yet and the fasten seatbelt sign was still on when I turned my mobile phones on: that which had my HK sim and that which had my Philippine sim. As soon as they let out their respective sounds, the other passengers around me turned their heads towards me and gave me a persecutive look. Embarassing. I got out of the plane as soon as the doors opened.

I was in line for the immigration when I realized none of my phones worked. I forgot to turn the my HK roaming on, and my Philippine sim was out of credits. I ran to the nearest call card dispensing machine which was, lo and behold, defective. It ate up my two hundred pesos and refused to accept the last hundred. After hitting the machine twice, I gave up and said goodbye to my money. Thank God there was a phone booth nearby; close to it, were two of the passengers that weren't amused when I turned my phones on earlier. With much delight and pride, they gave me a demeaning look. I tried to ignore them, dropped the coins and dialled Bibe. She said she was on the way; but I knew it would take her long.

I parked myself close to the passenger exit, so that Bibe would easily spot me when she arrived. Thirty minutes later, I realized that it had been almost 4 hours since I last had a cigarette. I decided to have one, but didn't know where to go. "Manong, san pwede mag-yosi? (Sir, where may I smoke?)," I asked the first security guard I saw.

"Dyan. (Right there.)," His answer was quick, as though my question was stupid.

I looked around but didn't find an ashtray. Instantly, an incident that happened at the domestic airport during my last Manila visit, back in 2007, flashed in my mind.

Towards my last three puffs, I saw a security person and politley asked, "Manong, san pwede magtapon nito (Sir, where can I throw this)?" referring to my cigarette butt.

"Dyan. (Right there.)" He pointed to the ground.

(Bonne Vacances, November 16, 2007)

I wondered whether I'd see a deja vu. I tried, and I did see a deja vu.

Few more minutes later, Bibe and her endearing boyfriend, Pusoy arrived. As soon as I hopped in the car, we started yakking relentlessly. We didn't stop until we got to the Ayala underpass. Bibe was talking about her mom and I rudely cut her with a big gasp.

"What happened, babe?", she asked.

"Black smoke. I missed this. Pollution at its finest," I smiled.

It had already been a long day for me, and it wasn't even past lunchtime yet. It was my first day. There was a longer day ahead of me, and in order to prepare myself for that, we decided to go for lunch--- my first Manila meal. JT's pecho, chicken tail, garlic rice and San Mig Strong Ice.

There couldn't have been a better welcome.

In her album, Bibe captioned this photo,
"Oscar (that's me, of course) and his old friend."

Bibe, the girl whom Rems wished I would marry,
and her boyfriend Pusoy, the man whom I wish I could marry.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Back To Work

If I could, I would stay in all day and write all the entries that I wish to about my trip to Manila. But a girl's gotta work, y'know.

So while I'm bobbing and prancing in the studio, I'm gonna leave you with an intermission number that should keep you entertained until my next blog entry, or the next TD&RS episode, whichever comes first.

Here's Beyonce and her girls performing Susan Fuentes's "Kiniham Ni Lolo". Enjoy, fellas! And thanks, Tita Mike, for sharing.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Dizizit Pt. 3- A Tear. Then A Smile.

I felt a hand poke me by the shoulder gently, and was roused from my sleep.

"Kindly lift your blinds, sir," the flight attendant instructed me. The seatbelt signs were turned on, the cabin crew cleared the aisle, and the captain announced that we were ready to land.

I looked out my window, and saw the margin of what seemed to be an endless body of water, few minutes back. Houses, looking like miniature nipa huts from where I was, and green, lush trees dotted the shore. It looked no different from all the other tropical paradises that we see in movies or postcards.

Then the plane started to descend, and what looked like miniature nipa huts revealed themselves as barung-barongs. Slums. All of a sudden, the place was no longer a vacation hub for the distressed soul in search for a temporary nirvana on earth. The picture was clearer now. The place was dirty, crowded and poverty-stricken. It was ugly. But it was also friendly and comfortingly familiar. It was Manila, and it was home. I was home.

A tear fell. Then I smiled.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Dizizit Pt. 2- Gate 3, Terminal 2

It was 7:15 in the morning. After smoking the last stick from my last packet and writing the last blog entry pre-Manila, I left the smoking room and headed to Boarding Gate 3.

It was relatively early for me. The airport wasn't so busy as they usually are, when I got there. But despite that, it was still exciting. Like in the opening scene of "Love Actually", everywhere I looked, there was at least one interesting character.

There was the leader of the ground staff who had the most unbelievable case of split personality. One minute, she was frantically screaming at her teamin chinese, ordering them to weigh in all additional bags that were gonna be brought to the cabin; the next minute, she was smiling as if she was an airline print ad model, saying, "Good morning, ma'am. Your carry-on is overweight, we have to check it in."

There was Jacky, one of the guys from the frantic leader's team. He was probably newly-hired, because of all of them, he was the only one who didn't make faces whenever the leader turned her back. He was also the only one that had the sense of urgency. And he was the only one who showed he felt humiliated being shouted at in front of passengers.

There was this corporate-looking middle-aged man who valued his space so much, he moved to another spot whenever somebody came within his 3 meter-radius.

There was Ms. Know-It-All, the migrant worker version of Kuya Germs of Philippine Entertainment, who thought she had the obligation of letting everybody know that she had lived in HK for 17 years. For every single problem, question and challenge, she thought she had the answer. And how could she not? She's been there, done that.

There were the Misses Hero. A whole bunch of them. They decided that in order to keep themselves from getting bored, they would play the "Enumerate-everything-that-you-sacrificed-in-order-to-earn-money-in-a-foreign-land-in-two-minutes-flat" game. The girl who would come up with the most, or who could move the other contestants to tears, whichever came first, would be crowned the Ms. Hero of Flight PR313. They all deserved to win.

There were the seafarers, who arrived in HK from another country the night before, and spent their evening at the boarding gate sleeping. Tired from being in transit too long, the only thing that could drag them up from sleep was Ms. It.

Ms. It, like Kim of Miss Saigon, was 17 when she moved to HK from a village, far, far away. She was young, sweet and naive then. But now, she's 23 and she wore a skirt just 3 inches longer than her panties (if she had any), she had nails painted in shocking yellow, which were just three inches shorter than her panties (if she had any) and an orange tube top that matched her nails in shock value. Her tube top was probably the same size as her panties. IF she had any. She was so excited to be back in Manila, she is now a self-made "it" girl. It had probably been too long since she last saw Manila. She had already forgotten that airplanes had airconditioning.

There were the loving parents who couldn't contain their emotions. Two of them caught my attention the most: a mother, baby-talking on the phone, sitting two seats behind me. "Wag ka mag-alala, baby, dalawang oras na lang mayayakap mo na ulit si mommy. Wag ka na umiyak. (Don't worry, baby, we'll be together again in two hours. You'll get to hug me again. Don't cry anymore)," she said; and a father, sitting away from everybody. He reached into his bag and took out a photo album. Then his tears fell. The sight of them both tore my heart.

There were the classy bitches. That morning, there were two of them. At first sight, one would think they're friends--- they have the same aura, the same look, and the same kind of scent. But they're not. In fact they might be competing against each other. Both of them were flashing their LV knock-offs, jaundiced with every gold accessory that their necks could accommodate, wearing tops with the biggest designer logo embalzoned on their chests and displaying their IPhones like they were the luckiest people on earth because they were the only ones who had them. One of them started talking on the phone, telling the peron on the other line how stressful the day will be for her, with all the plane and boat transfers she will have to do to get to Boracay. But what can she do, right? That's the price she has to pay for being rich and fabulous. Right after she hung up, the other girl did her show. Dial the phone and tell her mom (supposedly) to tell their driver to be at the airport on time. And give her specific instructions: have the driver bring the Benz. The Benz, mommy, you hear? Not any of the two Hondas. She was going straigh to EDSA Shangri-la to meet up with her friends for lunch, and neither of the Hondas were presentable enough. The two girls--- both of them--- had another thing in common. They both were confused with the difference between long e & short i, p & f, and with the correct usage of in, on & at.

There was also the real classy girl, who just sat there quietly, entertained by the show that the girls were putting on. She was dressed in an immaculately clean Lacoste shirt, drawstring khakis, and navy Lacoste sneakers.

There were the tourists, whose excitement was written all over their faces. I wished that my country could measure up to their expectations.

And then there were the nosy bitches who had their earphones plugged in their ears, bobbing their heads the the rhythm of the music that was supposedly coming from those earphones. But in reality, there was nothing coming out of them. They were props and they were necessary so that none of the people around would notice that they were minding everybody else's business, and deciding whether their observations were blog-worthy. One of them has decided that they actually were, and included his entry in his Dizizit series.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009


I haven't had a wink and I am hungry. I am sitting alone at one of the smoking rooms of the airport, feeling isolated and smelling like an ashtray. I mistakenly kept my lip balm in my check-in luggage and still can't figure out where I might have placed my housekeys.

There's a million things to think about, but I couldn't be bothered. I am 3 hours and a half away from home!

It's been 17 months since I last saw Manila. But dizizit! I'm ready for a vacay.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Same Time, Last Year

Exactly a year ago, I was at the HK International Airport, excited about my trip to Bohol.

Today, I'm not even sure of my itinerary yet. Enan has already left. Dan and Steve are leaving tonight. My other friends have already packed and are just killing time. My itinerary hasn't been confirmed. Ugh!

So help me God.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

What's Your Green Scarf?

Revived Ep 4 Out Now!
"Reflections On Confessions"
Dan & Rye and friends talk about green scarves
and what they're willing to give up
to find one true love.

ONIOMANIA- a clinical term that refers to compulsive shopping.

Lastly, your kasuys thank all of you who voted for TD&RS.
Yes, mga kasuy!
TD&RS is Rainbow Bloggers' Blog of the Week.
Para sa ting lahat ito, mga ate!
love y'all!

Listen up na mga kasuy!



*The release of this episode is more than a week delayed due to the unexpected unavailability of the mypodcast site. We are very sorry about the inconvenience. Also, the three previous episodes of the Revived Season, along with half of Season 2 and all of Season 3 from the old link (http://thedanandryeshow.mypodcast.com) have been accidentally deleted due to technical issues of the site. Please bear with us as we re-upload them from our back-up. Thank you, mga kasuys! Please don't ever get tired of us. We love y'all!

Fucked Up!

Mypodcast.com is up and running again after more than a week of being useless. Good news? Yes. BUT about 15 episodes from the old link which holds Seasons 1-3 are missing. AND all three episodes of the Revived Season as well.

This is fucked up!

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

The Rainbow Has Spoken

"What's in it for you?", was the common question that followed whenever I asked a friend to vote for my blog in the Rainbow Blog Of The Week race. Most of the time, my answer would be "Week-long prestige". Sometimes, "Fame. Site traffic. Advertisers. Money. And when I start earning heaps of money, I'll buy you a bag."

To some people, this recognition may seem petty. Silly, even. Maybe even to me when I look back at this years from now. But behind all that silliness and pettiness lie 2 enriching lessons: 1) that whatever you believe in, even if it doesn't make much sense to other people, if you believe in it adamantly, people will be willing to give you support and help when you ask for them; and 2) that the go-getter in me is still alive.

Just about an hour ago, I received the following message on my YM:

Rainbow Blog for week 3 is "Cant You Read?" .
Cast your votes now for Week 4.
The Nominees are: "Am I Brilliant or What?!?" again,
"Ang Misiz ng Blogspot",
"Mandaya Moore-Orlis",
and "Pop Max Now".
For those who have and haven't nominated yet,
nominate your friend's blog or even your own blog.
-(Yffar & Geisha Klein)

Flattering as it may be, this news that I received tonight could never come close to the epiphany that I had this afternoon, in terms of the sense of victory it brings. I wasn't even interested anymore to hear the final tally. I was content in knowing that the experience, no matter how petty or silly as it may appear, has served its purpose in my life. For that, I am thankful to the Universe.

And to everyone that the Universe had chosen to be instruments for Its divine purpose to unfold: to everyone who voted--- friends from all over the world; to everyone I asked to vote but didn't; to everyone who tried but didn't make it to the deadline; to Gil Khan, Marah, Jethro, Josh, Enan, Steve, Miro and Dan who helped me spread the word and gather votes; to Remcyl, who nominated me; to T, who was to me what Kitty Walker was to Senator Maccalister--- a supportive, loving partner and Director of Communications rolled into one; and to each person responsible of the 356 votes, whose names should be here, my sincerest thanks.

Someday, somewhere, I will face a battle that will require me to muster enough determination to fight for something that I believe in so much--- it could be for my own peace of mind or something that will save mankind, I don't know--- and this experience will be the bank from which I will draw that determination. You, each one of you, will be as much a part of that as you have been in this poll.

Love y'all!

Monday, March 16, 2009

Not All Triple Threats Are Created Equal

In 2002, I was called to a conference by the Membership Committee of the Philippine Educational Theater Association (PETA), then headed by Melvin Lee. I had just completed my one year application period and they were ready to promote me to apprentice.

After explaining what was expected of me and what I could expect from the company as a apprentice, Melvin asked if I had any questions.

"Is there any way I could defer my apprenticeship?" I asked. I was joining Ballet Philippines then as a company scholar and if I wanted to make the most of the limited life span of a dancer's career, I had focus all my time and energies to dance. There was no room for extra-curricular. I told them that. I made it clear to the committee that I wanted to dance professionally while I still could physically. But I didn't want to leave PETA.

They understood my predicament. While they wanted to support me in my endeavor, as part of the company, I was expected to be there. If I couldn't, what was the point of being an apprentice?

"What will I do?" I asked the. I was seriously perplexed.

"Would you rather be known as the dancer who can act or the actor who can dance?" Melvin attempted to make it easier for me.

I wasn't able to answer.

Years after that afternoon, I finally decided what I wanted to be known as. When I left Ballet Philippines in 2004, I joined the Actors' Company as a scholar and The Pride Manila Chorus as a pioneer member. I put myself out in the arts scene in Manila and experienced what I could. I was determined to become a triple threat.

It's been 5 years, and I am still not. Whether or not I will get there; whether or not the new priorities I have for myself now can accommodate that dream still; and whether or not I still dream of being that --- I am really not sure now.

But I can't help but wonder, what could have become of me if I had realized this dream when I was 9. Could I have come close to what Mitchel David Federan accomplished at his young age?

To be recognized as a triple threat is a laudable feat in itself; but to own the stage and command the audience's attention and be remembered for that one, single scene that a triple threat will appear on is even more laudable. To be onstage with Hugh Jackman is one thing; but to accomplish all these at the age of 12 is way beyond something.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

The Great Lip Balm Debacle

"The LORD has made everything for its own purpose, Even the wicked for the day of evil." --Proverbs 16:4

Everything, even lip balms. Nothing on earth is useless, in such the same way that no lip balm is completely useless. They all have their plus and minus points, and if you are clever enough to study these points, you'll know the right lip balm to use for every ocassion.

Let me focus on the four brands that I and my friends use the most though. In no particular order...

Burt's Bees

Tastes oh-so-good. They smell the best of all these four brands. And they cost the least, too. It's great to use when you know you'll be in a kissfest. It makes your lips feel plump, while they're still sitting on the surface. But they don't last long. And the feeling of plumpness is gone soon after the layer of lip balm vanishes on your lips.


Not as creamy as the other three brands, so it is absorbed faster than any of them. It can't boast of scent or flavor, but you feel the moisturizing effect long after the cream on the surface has been transferred to your coffee cup or wine glass. So even if the shine is lost, you feel that the moisture is retained, for hours.


Considered as the "best" in the western culture. It sits on the surface long after your facial moisturizer has faded. Having said that, it is best used in the extremes of climates: doesn't dry up easily whether you're enjoying the dry, freezing temperature of winter or frolicking in the humid summer sun. Its downside, it tastes awful. Imagine Omega Painkiller.


All the qualities of Carmex, only better. And a bit more expensive too.

A Late Invitation

Because I've been busy partying and sleeping, I am posting this late. But you know what they say, better late than never.

Because we are migrant workers ourselves (of course not everybody who reads this, but people who are here in HK as well), come and support our fellow Filipinos.

Likha Filipino Migrant Workers' Cultural Organization
Anniversary Concert
St. John's Cathedral,
Central, HK

Because you have only two hours and a half left, go hop in the shower now and join us!


"My good opinion lost,
once lost,
is lost forever."

-Jane Austen
Pride and Prejudice

Friday, March 13, 2009

I Call Him Tebs.

And though things are no longer the same,
the friendship remains.
The promise remains.

Thank you for the friendship.
The love.
And the little wrinkles that make for
a stunning parchment that is our friendship.

Happy 31st, Tebs!
MY Tebs

High (acoustic) - Lighthouse Family

When youre close to tears remember
Some day itll all be over
One day were gonna get so high
And though its darker than december
Whats ahead is a different colour
One day were gonna get so high

And at
The end of the day
Well remember the days
We were close to the edge
And well wonder how we made it through
And at
The end of the day
Well remember the way
We stayed so close to till the end
Well remember it was me and you

cause we are gonna be forever you and me
Youll always keep me flying high in the sky of love

Dont you think its time you started
Doing what we always wanted
One day were gonna get so high
cause even the impossible is easy
When we got each other
One day were gonna get so high

And at
The end of the day
Well remember the days
We were close to the edge
And well wonder how we made it through
And at
The end of the day
Well remember the way
We stayed so close to till the end
Well remember it was me and you

cause we are gonna be forever you and me
You will always keep me flying high in the sky of love

How Are You Gonna Get Up?

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling,
but in rising every time we fall."


Thursday, March 12, 2009

Of Duvets, Curtains & Tips

Hoping to find the perfect duvet and sheets to suit his needs, and the perfect closet that will keep my room organized, Enan and I walked into Ikea yesterday with an overflowing sense of excitement.

Halfway through our spontaneous field trip, I had already made my choice and the picture of what my room will be like in a few weeks was already very vivid in my mind. Enan, on the other hand, was starting to have second thoughts about the purchases that, about an hour ago, he was so willing to make. It dawned on him that he would be spending about a thousand dollars for a set of bedding and a pair of curtains.

My take on his dilemma is this:

In this world that we live in, where technological advancements and overpopulation make it almost impossible to draw the line that defines where privacy and personal space begin, it is the bedroom that remains our own. It is our sanctuary. It's what cradles us when night falls and all the other avenues of comfort are no longer accessible. It's our sole companion in our slumber, when all our friends (and/or lovers) have gone away. It's what energizes and revitalizes us. It keeps us safe so that we can succumb to vulnerability and sleep soundly at night. In our weakest moments, it remains sturdy . It has to be affectionate and warm. Personal and comfortable. It has to have what you want it to have. It has to look the way you want it to. It has to have a part of you. While it's true that no amount of money can pay for a peaceful sleep, it is also true that a little bit of money can bring you closer to it.


When I was a few years younger, I didn't really understand the concept of tips. I always questioned the idea of giving your hairstylist, or your waiter tips, because they did their job. I often retorted, "Why am I not given tips whenever I finish a show? I did my job too! And why do we not give teachers tips after a class? Or a bank teller after we're given our withdrawal?"

When my good friend, James made a career shift from performance to F&B, I began to understand the dynamics of service and how, as patrons and consumers, we have the natural (almost innate) desire to be treated special. We pay for service, after all.

So without even deliberately deciding to, I started giving my favorite bartenders (those who know my drink, those who know the special drink that Eben has concocted for me, and those who pour an extra ounce of wine in my glass --- and do it with a smile) tips. And then my newly-cultivated generosity got extended to taxi drivers: those that do not talk on their cellphones at the top of their voices while driving, and those that try to speak English and start a conversation with me. (Unlike in the Philippines, taxi drivers here do not demand for tips. In fact, they don't expect to receive it more often than not.) And then of course, and they are the ones that deserve it the most, salon assistants.

I have so much respect (almost to the point of adulation) to salon assistants here in HK. They are very attentive, always smiling, and always willing to go the extra mile. They will shampoo your hair, blowdry, brush the fallen hair off your face, give you a massage, tell you you're gorgeous, and even pick up the magazine that you accidentally dropped. They're almost like PA's. Once, while I was being shampooed and my phone rang, the salon assistant attending on me even went to my station to get my phone, without me asking.

Because of my fondness with them (not in a malicious way), I have come up with certain standards to measure the efficiency of salon assistants. And since tipping is rewarding them for a job well done, I thought it was but fair to give them what I think is commensurate with their efforts. The standards that I set, I realized, are an effective way to decide how much they will get from me.

It's very simple. As soon as I am assigned my salon assistant for the day, I already value him at $30. For every minor mistake that he makes, like getting my collar wet, or not rinsing my ear well, he gets a deduction of $2.00. For every major blunder, like exposing a specific spot of my head to heat for a long time because he's busy gossiping the other assistants, he the deduction is $5.00.

For every kind or helpful gesture he does that he is not obliged to do, he gets a $2.00 reward.

When my session is over, I round off the total amount to the nearest 5. The least I've given is $5.00, and the most is $45.00.

Now, when my assistant is someone who is far beyond twinkness, and he has biceps and pecs that make small beads of sweat appear on my forehead, and he knows how to stare and smile at me like a man, then he gets a $200. voucher for drinks. But he has to redeem his prize with me, not with anyone else.

If, during drinks, he shows exemplary niceness and he is willing to go beyond the call of duty, then he is rewarded free board and lodging at my place for one night, where he is assured to sleep tight, because the duvet, the curtains, and the sheets are warm and accommodating.

Ryeness Creed

I believe in karma. I believe that everything we do has its own consequence.

I believe in the Supreme Being who will lead us to the consequences of our thoughts and actions.

I believe that, as human beings, our littlest actions can make a big difference. The choices that we make, whether made with conviction or half-heartedly, can make others happy or miserable.

I believe in the power of friendship.

Having said all of these, my dear friends, please click on this link:

and vote for Can't You Read? in the Blog Of The Week race. In two clicks, you will make me happy, thus earning you a few good karma points.

OH, and I also believe in love.

I love you all!

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Remembering A Lesson Learned

Because I had two hours to kill today, I decided to go to the gym.

Because I loved how it felt parading naked in front of strangers the last time I did it, I decided to do it again today.

Because I almost forgot the lesson I learned from my previous experience, I am reposting this piece to remind me.

Lord, please make me not forget again.

I walked into the locker room and found two men: one, probably in his early 40's and the other, in his late 20's. Judging on body language, they didn't know each other. One was just getting ready for his tennis game while the other was still damp from the shower. They were both chinese, and both naked.

As soon as I deposited my stuff in my assigned locker, I marched into the shower cubicle. I was in my trunks and a towel hung in my shoulder. Twenty minutes later, I was wiping myself dry. I was going to wrap the towel around my loin but it was too small for one end to even reach the other. I decided to wear my trunks again. And then I decided otherwise. Come to think of it, I have never experienced parading in any changing room completely naked. Not in the dressing rooms of the company I used to work for, not in any public changing room I have ever been. Other people can do it, why can't I?

With much pride and dignity, I swung the shower curtain open and walked to the locker stark naked. The two men I had walked into weren't around anymore, but another character had appeared: the boy who, about an hour ago got me pissed because he moved the dumbells I was using for my Arnold Press. Few minutes later, I heard somebody walking out of the steam room. And another one coming out of the toilet. We were all bare-assed. Nothing to be coy about.

Although I didn't pretend to be straight, I also didn't announce I was gay. Maybe they knew and didn't mind at all. Or maybe they were too busy to even examine. Or maybe, they really thought I was straight even though my blonde lock screamed faggotry. Here in HK, I have learned that to judge a book by its cover is truly unwise; because here in HK, metrosexuals do exist.

Everything was going well. By that, I meant I wasn't having trouble co-existing in an enclosed space with other men in such vulnerable state. Neither were they. I could say so because none of them made me feel they were uncomfortable. Well, until I headed to the sink, and, out of habit, applied my cheek tint right after applying my moisturizer.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Rainy Days & Mondays

I love the rain. It gives me a certain kind of energy that propels me dream. To create. To imagine. To read poetry and feel it with all my five senses. To listen to music and be moved. To dance and meditate through it.

Mondays, however are not always looked forward to. Monday mornings are the most difficult time of the week. It's when I have to forcefully detach myself from the carefree, debauched weekend that passed. It's the time of the week--- the only time of the week--- when I question the Universe why I can't be filthy rich so that I won't have to work.

But as from every rule there is an exception, let today, March 9, Monday, be the exception from my Monday loathing.

If every now and then, my Mondays could offer little pleasures like,

  • an unexpected call from the immigration telling me that my working visa sponsorship has been transferred and extended till June of next year,
  • realizing that I have more money than I thought and because of that I manage to give myself a little midday treat,
  • meeting someone in the lift, a Caucasian ballroom dancer, who says that she could tell I'm a sensitive dancer by the way I stand,
  • T treating me to a sumptuous Italian dinner to celebrate my visa extension,
  • showing up in the studio and realizing that my class is full and my students tell me that they got excited when they were told I was taking over another instructor's class,
  • coming home and discovering an unexpected paycheck delivered by post, and dinner waiting for me (prepared by my best friend, Dan),
  • receiving an instant message while podcasting telling us that our podcast is the Blog Of The Week, and that my blog is nominated for next week,
  • being rained on a bit as I walk the busy streets of CWB, just before I run Jethro's choreography,

the way it did today, then Monday would be my favorite day of the week.

Saturday, March 07, 2009

Convincing Dan

I'm a feline lover. But Dan is not. I wanna adopt a cat but I can't do it without Dan's consent.

Although Dan and I are not a couple, but his opinions on domestic matters are essential because we share a common roof. We are technically domestic partners, besides being best friends.

Tonight, I intend to talk to him again about adopting a cat. The animal welfare has a package that might make him say "yes".

Dan, don't we need to get our windows washed too?

One Last Lecture

If you were to give one last lecture, what would it be about?

Randy Pausch, professor of computer science and human-computer interaction and design at Carnegie Mellon University, gave his 10 months before he passed away in July of 2008.

On Sept. 19, 2006, Randy was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Almost a year later, after undergoing an unsuccessful Whipple procedure, he was told he only had three to six months of good health.

On September 18, 2007, Randy gave his last lecture at CMU, "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams", the condensed version of which, he delivered on Oprah in October of 2007. Below is the video of that condensed version on Oprah. To watch the 1 hour, 16 minute-original lecture, click here.

Mr. Pausch passed away on July 25, 2008. He is survived by his wife and three kids, the people for whom his lecture was originally written.

Friday, March 06, 2009

What Do They Feed These Kids?

Jazmine Sullivan in 99, at 11.

In His Eyes

"This is Rye. Flamboyant. Outspoken. Fearless.

A rockstar with a heart as huge as a diva’s stage.

A winnur performer. A proud son. A good friend."

-As Is

Thanks, friend!

Wednesday, March 04, 2009


I'd like to know who
among my friends in the Philippines
are going to John Legend's concert.
Please let me know?
Love you all! (ok, maybe not all.)

Tuesday, March 03, 2009


Revived! Ep 3, Sagutan Episode, Is Out Now!

Ito na ang kabayaran sa mga utang naming response sa mga comments nyo.
And we did this because we love you all, mga kasuy!

Also, the next time you visit the Rainbow Bloggers Philippines site,
don't forget to vote for us as the Blog of the week.
But if you don't visit RBP, well go ahead, visit now and vote for us! NOW!


Thanks to the kasuy who nominated us.


Monday, March 02, 2009

What Excites Me

I've just been given two wonderful, wonderful invitations: a dance performance for Likha's anniversary concert, and a docu project.

And as if those weren't enough to make me wet with anticipation, I asked two people to collaborate with me in the first project: Jethro and Rems.

Jethro saw a contemporary dance show on Friday and went to a Bhuto workshop on Saturday. The inspiration to create that he showed when I saw him after those re-immersion activities was overwhelming and utterly contagious. I just can't wait to start on our piece.

Three weeks ago, Rems expressed her desire to enrol in a Creative Writing Workshop, which I support tremendously. But since there's none yet opening soon, I asked her tonight if she wanted to write me a a few verses that I would use for the piece. "I'll do it now," was her response.

Although Dan is just a meter and a half away from me right this very moment, and Verna could very well be reached through her mobile, I haven't really talked to them about the next CMO Productions project. I will soon. Probably before Sunday. I'm still awaiting a continuity script. Then our project is a go. Dan and Verna, if you think the 2007 Christmas Project was big, wait till you hear about this one, Let's keep our fingers crossed that we get the project. And thanks, Jojo for hooking me up! Number 1 ka sa puso ko! ;-)

Sunday, March 01, 2009

Good Sunday Morning


After a thousand songs and a thousand cigarettes,I still haven't had a wink. I should've been asleep 5 hours ago. I have a show to do tonight and hundreds of errands to run later today.

But I'm not. And I'm glad that I'm not, or I would've missed his first "I love you".