On fandom in general

Kinda TL;DR but I have to get this off of my mind.

Celebrating freedom, #RP612fic style

For the first time, I celebrated Independence Day by participating in #RP612fic! At first, I thought it was going to be hard, but once I got my first tweet down, everything else fell into place like clockwork (thank you EK for giving me that much needed pep talk. =D).

You can go through my Twitter feed to see all of them (they've all been conveniently hashtagged with #RP612fic). Alternately, I've also compiled everything I've done from close to midnight until tonight through Storify, which you can view here.

I'm so happy that some of the stuff I posted got retweets from respected Twitter accounts (i.e. the halo-halo fic and that one bit about Quiapo Church - both of which have references to Avengers). It let out my inner fangirl, and it was understood. I was trying to make references to other fandoms, like Dragonball or RuroKen, but I couldn't churn out anything I'd want to publish. /sigh 

There will always be next year. I'm definitely going to be part of it again.

Some sites are starting to compile the microfics. I'll be posting below where some of the stuff I've tweeted were included (and I give also my humblest of floorbows to them):

• Katipunan Magazine (The Lasallian in me is delighted with this =D)

10 years ago today, it was my first day of college at De La Salle University

TEN YEARS.

I had to type it down, because I myself can hardly believe it. This is supposed to be my cue for saying I AM OLD!!!, but I don't feel any different, in general.

Okay. Ten years ago...

1. I was sixteen, going on seventeen *points to yearbook photo for your reference*
2. I had braces (again, yearbook photo /sigh)
3. I was a Japanese Studies major (who looks Chinese! XD)
4. I was a reconsidered passer of DLSU 
5. I had no idea what I wanted to do or be when I "grow up" (in quotations, cause ten years on, I still don't think I'm in that "grown up" status XDDD)

I'm sure there were other things...but those are the most relevant. I had a high school-like schedule, with classes beginning at 7AM and ending at about 3:30 during MWF, and an 8:10 to 4-ish schedule every TH. Oh, and there's PE every Wednesday, which was karate at the then new Sports Complex. We had the football field back then. There were also no security guards manning the pedestrian lanes outside the University. We had to cross on our own. (in other words - may taning lagi ang buhay namin dati pag tumatawid sa Taft!)

Transitioning from high school to college has been one of the easiest things to do. For one, I have this disdain for my high school that I'm actually glad to have left it behind (HENCE THE SMILE!). Second, I got into the school of my childhood dreams - De La Salle University! Ever since I was in kinder, I have looked at that familiar, unchanging facade of the St. La Salle Hall and often dreamed of walking in its halls when I "grow up" (haha, again, in quotation marks). Thirdly, coming into the school under Japanese Studies was a welcome experience while I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. After one term of bliss under the program, I applied to shift to Marketing Management, and by the third term, I was having classes at LS, the building of my childhood fantasy. 

Entering college was like coming full circle. It was a promise that was fulfilled.

--- --- ---

Ten years after my first day of college, I wonder now how everything ended up like this, and if everything went according to plan.

I've always been told by my parents to plan. "How do you see yourself 10 years from now" is a staple question during job interviews, and of course, for the sake of a job you'll try your hardest to give the best answer. The truth of it is, I've often been very unsure of my answers - especially when I was searching for my first job. Most of the time, my answers were what I thought would please the interviewer most! 

But, I do remember saying...

1. I want to get an MBA or a master's degree 
2. I want to travel -  go out of the country, and be in more places in the country aside from Bulacan
3. I want to live alone

And in the span of less than ten years (graduating in 2006), all of these very simple plans have been fulfilled. I'm in my second year of MMC. I have travelled CALABARZON (thank you DLSC), and I have spent more than a year away from family - surviving storms, snakes, beetles, forest fires, and the traffic resulting from Skyway (phase 2). 

And there's more - stuff that I didn't even dream of doing: winning a trip outside the country by singing (no less!); writing a book; singing in public (that last one is something I never would have guessed!)

If I had a chance to pay a visit to my sixteen year old self - a sixteen year old who is...

1. Incredibly unsure of herself and what she can do 
2. Discouraged due to high school authorities (all that drama those months leading to graduation is just...ugh) 
3. Indifferent
4. Sort of confused if she's good, or up to no good 

...I'd probably not take that chance. If ever I will, I won't show nor introduce myself to her. The most amazing thing about my college life is that I have absolutely no regrets, and I feel so blessed to have had that experience. I relished every day of those four years, taking it one day at a time.

I didn't make too many plans. I simply did my best in all of my subjects, so when I got my grade I knew I likely deserved it. I didn't join too many orgs, nor did I aspire for any political/leadership position (with the exception of NKK, which was more of a passion thing, and not a resume asset). I befriended as many people as my rigid rules on personal space would allow me. I shared my notes willingly, taught classmates generously. I took my own share of risks, worked to earn money, sang to earn money. 

If there was any plan, it was to live the remaining four years of school life the fullest way possible. What "fullest" meant was a mystery; one that can only be defined when the journey has been made. 

I certainly don't think I've got it "all together", though. If there's anything my sixteen year old self thought of her future twenty-something self, it was that. I'm still learning, re-learning, and unlearning. I haven't figured everything out quite yet, and that's okay.

I don't think anyone will ever figure everything out. =)

Brown, blue, and orange - a morning at CIW

"Magsuot ka ng kahit na ano, wag lang brown, blue, or orange."

"Puwede bang mag-shorts?" I asked.

--- --- ---

Image from DefinitelyFilipino.com

Last Saturday, I went to the Correctional Institute for Women (CIW) in Mandaluyong. I was ordered asked to go there to do ministry to the inmates, along with some other people who are also in music. 

To be honest, I wasn't really expecting much with the visit. At the very least, I wished that it wouldn't be hot, and that it will be uneventful (i.e. no encounters of the weird kind). Prior to this I haven't been inside a prison before, and everything I knew about prison life I've seen in Mission: Impossible movies and the like.

The first thought that came to mind the night before was what I was supposed to wear. Given the heat, I'd rather be wearing shorts, but I was advised not to, along with the very helpful tip of not wearing anything brown, blue, or orange (which was what the inmates wore, color-coded according to the gravity of their offense).

I wore purple. With leggings. 

I asked if I could bring a camera, and I was told I couldn't because the identities of the women inside should be protected. That seemed reasonable enough, but it would have been awesome to have had one though. For one, this post would have been written much easier. 

--- --- ---

Our group was led inside without much fuss. We were advised to leave our cellphones behind at the car, which we've already done before going inside the facility. We were body searched (always a very unpleasant experience for me, even if it's a woman doing it) after our hands were stamped. Then, we were led inside the complex.

Everyone was very courteous. There was a good morning thrown my way every 30 seconds or so for the first ten minutes I was in there. I quietly took in everything - the obvious abundance of orange shirts and dresses with the occasional blue and brown, the long queue of the telephone booths which was their major connection to the outside world and loved ones, the beauty salon (I was tempted to try it out, to be honest - they had nail art!), and the impeccable surroundings that made littering seem like a mortal sin.

We made our way to a few flights of stairs until we reached the covered roof deck which had an amazing view of the Makati, Mandaluyong, and Ortigas skyline. There were also two keyboards in one end, with an overhead projector (is this real life?!). There were also chairs neatly arranged in rows. 

After a while, there was some prayer done, and some talking. Soon there was singing, reading, even laughter, and then everything became solemn again, and then tears.

And then my heart was full.

It was such an eye-opening experience to have been a small part of these women's lives even for a few hours - to have hugged them in spite of every rule I've placed on myself regarding personal space, to have shared in their tears as they prayed for breakthroughs in their cases, for forgiveness, to rejoice in every season of their lives, especially in this season of isolation from the outside world. 

I found myself crying at times during that morning. How often have I complained about things not going my way, or how hard life is ... what are my difficulties compared to these women who have been separated from family and loved ones - some even carry their pictures along with their IDs as a reminder. The food inside, I've heard from their own accounts, was so awful - a can of tuna was shared by three people. And through all this, they still have hope - a wild hope, if you will - that it could only get better.

--- --- ---

It was rather timely that in my various searches made through the Internet, I (re)learned something about "compassion". Compassion, from its Latin origin, actually meant to suffer with another. It's far from an act of kindness, though it is slightly close to empathy - to understand and share in the feelings of another. 

When I was doing ministry there (and believe you me, I am hardly ever prepared for these things, but when push comes to shove, I somehow get a grip of what is expected of me), from the moment my hand touched one's shoulder, I felt compassion at that instant, and I found myself crying with them. I remember learning from somewhere that while you're doing ministry, you're not supposed to close your eyes, and you shouldn't be fazed with the showing of any emotion (i.e. crying) - for very good reasons, I must add. In the case of last Saturday's, however, it was close to a knee-jerk reaction, if you will. To explain it would look rather weird, cause I would do it this way: it's like the other person's emotions penetrate and swirl inside you, and as they swirl they hit you where it hits them at that specific moment in time - chest heaving, eyes tearing, teeth gritting. It can only be compassion, cause I could think of no other explanation. 

Aside from this, I was also reminded that everyone is capable of great good and great evil. These women, who may have done evil in different shapes or forms, are also capable of shedding tears or becoming vulnerable. They're no different from me, or you. 

--- --- ---

So, there you have it! I got into prison, and I got out. 

If the family learns about this, it will be long before I hear the end of it. ("Buti na lang hindi ka napagkamalang preso!" or "Buti na lang nakalabas ka!". Hay, family.)

Happily ever after - a longer version this time

As promised, I am posting about the Author event that happened yesterday. Of course, I have to repost the epic Samantha Sotto photoset, and along with that my pictures with our other speakers  - Larry Gamboa, RJ Ledesma, Charles Tan, and Grace D. Chong (I had to be the host during the afternoon session. HOST!!!!! /dedz).

I feel really privileged to have organized this event (though it is rather tiring, LOL. By the time the event ended I realized I had a poor excuse of a meal for lunch and had next to nothing for merienda. I would have crashed along Pasay Road if weren't for CBTL.). But being a reader and a writer myself, having to listen to all of these people talk about their author journey is nothing less than inspiring.

About this time last year, I remember that I was seriously contemplating on returning to Manila even if it meant resigning from work and being unemployed. There was so much uncertainty during that time, as well as self-doubt.

But looking back on it now, I realized I didn't have to fret so much. From that very low point last year, I'm now meeting people whom I though I'd never meet in my lifetime, learning new things at a speed that I'm not used to, and taking on responsibilities that I never even thought I'd handle...oh, and did I mention writing a book?! It's all just amazing. It's far from "living a dream", but it's far from half-bad.

And on this note, you've just been Loki'd. #appropriatelokireactiongifisappropriate

Bullets | Short story

My week thus far, in bullets:

• To Kill A Mockingbird must be a required reading during anyone's lifetime. If I chanced upon this book earlier in my life, I might have seriously considered becoming a lawyer. 
• In relation to this, I love Atticus Finch. /oldmanfangirlingnanaman
• If any of you reading this have a copy of the movie, can I borrow it?
• I'm still happy I didn't become a lawyer.
• I'm dealing with a lot of discontent right now. It comes and it goes, and I'd like to think it's all part of the dreaded quarter-life crisis. I'm particularly peeved with the following:
• The NBSB status. Most of the time it's not an issue, but when someone rubs it in, ye gads, it's like an itch that won't go away.
• Some of the things I'm doing now are seriously hampering my ability to do other stuff I want to do, i.e. rest, more sleeping and reading time, more bulakbol time, more me time (in a nutshell). These things may seem really trivial, but I need to do these things. 
• My utter lack of a social life. I can't count anymore the number of times I've been told that I need to get out more. One went as far as telling me that I have to get out because my complexion is more sickly than pale. 

Yeah. That's it. XD

--- --- ---

For those who have been encouraging me in my "author" journey, "thank you" cannot even begin to express my gratitude.  I've been asked by some people what kind of stories do I write, and I usually just smile at them most of the time. When I dared to answer it directly, I think one of my replies was "I write about death". The stare I got from one person was so...how do I even describe it? It was a stare that said, "Why in the world would you write about such a morbid topic?", or "I never thought a person like you would write about that!". 

Ever since the author class thing started, I've been doing a lot of thinking. I remember that one of the goals of setting up this blog was this:

Since college, there's this small itch to actually go public with some of the stuff I write or do, but I have this fear (which nags me till now) that people who know me in real life will not understand it, or it will be shot down as horrible/inconceivable. So, I want to find out for myself if those fears are grounded in truth. Hence, this blog was born.

I want to stay true to this goal - no matter how scary it is. Hence, I have decided to post a story I did two years ago, which is about death. /ye gads

If you know me in real life and you see this story, let me know what you think. As in, seriously. I'd really like to know. A little background follows after the jump.

[static] Support Cherry Cherry Boom Boom at Bagyo Berde - the DLSU Centennial Battle of the Bands

Cherry Cherry Boom Boom (a 100% Lasallian band!) will be performing next Wednesday at Bagyo Berde - the Centennial Battle of the Bands of De La Salle University.

There are many ways you can support the band! We will appreciate it if you can come and watch us at 6PM next Wednesday at the Amphitheater. Tickets are being sold at Php150 along Miguel and Velasco Halls of the Alma Mater, as well as in the SDA Building of DLS-CSB.

If you cannot come on Wednesday night, you can still support us by doing any or all of the following:

1. Vote for us. If you have a Smart number, text BAGYOBERDE <space> POLL <space> 3 and send to 700DLSU (7003578). That's "BAGYOBERDE POLL 3" and send to 7003578. If you don't have a Smart number, you can go to the Bagyo Berde booth along Miguel and get a Smart SIM for free. You can also pasa load to my Smart Bro number 09396652946 so I can use whatever load you send to me to vote for CCBB. If you will pasa load to my Smart Bro, please text me on my Globe number (wahahahahaha!).
2. If you are in DLSU until 5:00 PM, visit the Bagyo Berde booth (either along Velasco or Miguel) and drop a few bills in the Cherry Cherry Boom Boom coin bank/can. 
3. Donate to Youth Church (YC) of Church of God-Makati. Our entry is fully supported by the youth ministry of our church. Your money will go a long way towards building up leaders out of our youth in Makati, and in other places of the metro and beyond. 

Thank you!

Opposites

I was at Wendy's in Greenbelt. I was quietly taking a bite on my BMM and poking at their "natural" fries. Being the kind of person who loves reading food labels, I learned why it was natural: potato skin on, cooked in zero trans fat oil, seasoned with sea salt. Interesting. Mine needed a pinch more of the last detail. My eyes were alternating between a book I was reading on project management and the people walking outside the restaurant. The weather was dismal. The would be no sun for a few days.

A tall lady crossed my side of the restaurant. She was thin, the kind of lady that Mango loves - a size 0 body. She sat down at the far end of our side. She was heavily covered with a good-looking trench and skinny jeans. She unwrapped a burger, took a plastic knife and gingerly cut it in half. She took one half with a tissue and set it aside, the other half she carefully wrapped again and placed it on another side. Her fries (like mine), she poked at, then ate one or two pieces, then left the rest untouched. She focused on consuming the halved burger.

A few minutes later, a guy sauntered to our side, adjacent to Size 0 Lady. When my eyes wandered off from my book I saw on his tray four hamburger de luxes, one order of spaghetti and a biggie-sized drink. I thought at first that the food was for two people, but the single drink order made me think otherwise. His body build was large, but not so much that he was obese. I maintained my stance that he ordered for two. I went back to my book.

Later, I saw that Size 0 Lady already consumed her half burger. There were still fries on her tray, but she wasn't touching it. She stood up and went to the counter, then returned with a plastic bag. To my left, I heard a sound that was like someo clucking their tongue. When I saw where it was coming from, it was from Biggie Guy, who was consuming his spaghetti as fast as it probably took for him to order all of his food. He was eating with his mouth open, smacking his lips at every possible interval.

Size 0 Lady's head was down, her tapered fingers clutched around her cellphone. In front of her North Face paper bag was the plastic bag she asked from the counter. The other burger half and the natural fries were now in it. My gaze returned to Biggie Guy. He was on to his first hamburger.

I realized I still had iced tea left. I sipped it, making sure to indulge every gulp since it was seldom that I go to Wendy's. I tried to concentrate on my project management book, but I couldn't help but hear Biggie Guy's lip-smacking just two feet away from me.

I reached for the fries container and took the last few underseasoned pieces. I looked slightly to my left. Biggie Guy just finished his second hamburger, and was on to the third. My eyes widened at the gastronomical feat, yet I couldn't help but appreciate how neatly folded and arranged the used hamburger wrappers were by his side, how the spaghetti styrofoam box was closed shut sitting at the far end, and as he unwrapped the third burger, he took the top bun and made sure that the ketchup was spread evenly over. He worked on it with the knife, spreading it just to be perfectly sure. He placed it back, and eats it.

I realized my meal was finished. Not wanting to be late for my 4PM appointment, I wiped my mouth with the single sheet of tissue I was given. I took my wallet and checked how many bills I had left, then shoved the receipt in it. I saw Size 0 Lady stand up and leave, her medium-sized drink that was over half full was left alone at her table.

I stood up and made my exit. "Thank you Ma'am! Come again!" I tilted my head back and said thank you to the people at the counter.

Even when I left, I could still hear him smacking his lips.

I emailed my Congressman

Here's something I learned during my last LLFP (Lasallian Leadership Formation Program) that I'm putting to practice. I emailed my Congressman asking him to rethink his stance on the RH Bill. I'm publishing my email to him in the blogosphere for easy access. =D

BTW, my congressman is Amado Bagatsing. I'm hoping I get a reply since I posted my email address, plus I think my letter to him is very civil.

Super special awesome ultra special sexy transformation sequence, go!

"I'M BACK, BABY."
Yu-Gi-Oh! The Abridged Series, I owe you one.

Ladies and gents, I give you the camp post.


--- --- ---

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me..."
Galatians 2:20

That verse pretty much sums up my entire camp experience. It was absolutely WRONG for me to think that it was the typical clean fun camp that I experienced during the camps that TFCA held for us. It was dirtier, messier...and I'm still not inclined to say that it was more fun XD. If they told us "This is like CAT/COCC camp" then I would have prepared myself mentally as well as physically.

I was not ready for mud.

In the previous post, I said that camp was a traumatizing experience. It was so much so that I completely broke down (as in waterworks talaga) on the last day. I had lost my voice, I had no wit left, and barely any reserve power to even will myself to eat. But somehow, I survived.

But more than these experiences, that verse really applied in the fullest force possible when it was time for altar call counselling. I had training (but I admit that I did not listen as well as I should be, HAHAHAHAHA!), but it still felt like I was coming into a battle that I wasn't prepared for. Yet, as I said in the post prior to this, I was fully aware that it wasn't me who was ministering to these people anymore, like...I became a vessel, and my self took a back seat. It seems unbelievable, I know...but it's an experience that one has to feel for himself, I guess. =D

Now that's been said, it's off to my personal best (and worst) experiences.

地震 [Jishin]

Oh Japan.

I was not born in this country, and yet it has given me so much.

When I was a kid and felt like I had no friend in the world, watching anime kept me going. It was because for a while I could escape in my own imaginings and feel - and believe with every fibre of my being - that my sadness was but a passing feeling.

I learned a lot of things while watching your anime. Dragonball taught me that no matter how strong the forces of evil are, good will always prevail in the end. Rurouni Kenshin taught me that atonement for the most unforgivable sins is possible. Yakitate! Japan showed another side (albeit extreme) of baking bread, and in the process taught me that if you love what you're doing, you never have to work for the rest of your life.

When I was told that I couldn't carry a note well, I listened and sang (secretly) to J-pop songs. At least, when I sang in Nihongo, no one around me will understand what I was singing and if ever my singing was that bad, they'll leave me alone. And when I did decide to show my skill (or lack thereof) in public due to desperate need of funds, I sang a Japanese song. I got not only the money, but my confidence back. That will never be forgotten.

I would have went on and finished Japanese Studies if weren't for my fear of job security after I graduated; but even if I didn't go the distance, my admiration for you never went away.


You have your considerable share of eureka and whack moments, which is fine. At the end of the day, you remain The Land of the Rising Sun. But now, the sun has yet to rise on your land.

Oh Japan. I send you all my love, gratitude and prayers.

[Note:  地震 (jishin) = earthquake]

(BTW, how can we help Japan from here? I'm serious about this and it's been bugging me that I can't find a reliable facility that accepts donations from the Philippines. I don't have a credit card...)