Good to Hear from You

What have you done to the Faun lately?

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 08:54:34 GMT

James McAvoy, that is you.

On one of the rare instances that I braved the Friday crowds and ventured to watch a movie on opening night, 'Wanted' made it all worth it. Seeing the trailers early on, Mr. McAvoy was already reason enough to pull me into the theater.

Maybe we just wanted to get rid of the stale aftertaste of 'Made of Honor' from the week before, so Jeff, Des and I along with Ina and Jen trooped to G4 after OT hours. And thankfully for us, 'Wanted' was no disappointing run-of-the-mill US summer drivel.

I could go on about how the movie pushes style limits with enough substance to go around. Just don't dwell too much on the sometimes
implausible Fraternity premise (I address the thinking viewer here), and freely ride its visual and visceral pleasure. Hey, I'm actually raving about an 'action' movie here. The fact that James McAvoy leads the cast wouldn't have anything to do with this, now would it? Who am I fooling... :)

Of course, there's the slick editing that heightens the fantastic and frenetic pacing; the whoa!-inducing effects, the curving bullets that still manage to seem fresh (except perhaps when used once too many times); plus a host of action-packed sequences and car chases that leave you dumbfounded and declaring expletives (hmmm...sino kaya 'to?).

But wait, 'Wanted' also wants you to think it is more than just your average flashy and violent action flick (though it does ably deliver in the flash and violence department). It even cares to throw you an existentialist, philosphical bone, with its overriding choose your destiny theme played out in key moments, and the oft-quoted last line that sums everything up in one taunting and compelling swoop.

Let me say one thing though (among the many other things I have said)--James McAvoy, penultimate, uniquely-edged, self-deprecating, devil-may-care, action supernova is born.

He's had his share of early supporting roles ('Wimbledon') to playing the romantic lead ('Becoming Jane'). He's been around the UK circuit; proved acting chops in Oscar bait with literary adaptations ('Atonement') and relevant biopics ('The Last King of Scotland'). He's also shown his quirky appeal in heartfelt coming-of-age tales ('Starter for Ten') and charming modern-day fables ('Penelope').

With 'Wanted', McAvoy plunges straight into the mainstream and baby's gone a long way from his half-human, half-creature Narnia days. That scene where he storms into the textile factory, guns blazing and opening fire, cements his legitimacy as a movie star to be reckoned with. Could it be a sign of things to come?

Surely I'll be waiting with much anticipation for what the f%$#@ he will be doing next.

*Another delayed reaction. Guess I've been itching to let this out since June 27, but you know how lazy I can get.

There's no substitute for time**

Fri, 11 Jul 2008 17:39:53 GMT

Three years. It has been three years.

I don't have too many personal time-bound milestones to commemorate, so I might as well note this down.

The day just done marks the passage of yet another year at work. In the fabled MB clock, where one month is equivalent to a year, I've completed 36 years. Yet on this same day, events force me to go back to 'the beginning'. And I'm not just talking from a mental standpoint of looking back and taking stock--it is serious work that needs to be done.

But hey, I still believe in the non-randomness of things thrown my way. If it's all symbolic of some cryptic message, how do I attempt to read into this? In my efforts to be forward looking and thinking, I am brought back, put in my place, reminded never to forget how it was in the beginning. How it was to have only naivete, idealism and optimism, and that it wasn't such a bad thing. How it was, way back when it was fresh, and the stench of bad habits formed over the years was undetectable.

Thirty-six, or should I say I three years, can take its toll. But with unshakable faith and unwavering trust, you pull through. When you were helpless and uninformed, you survived. God always provides. What more now that you've been better equipped to face the non-random crises? Josh Groban sings it right, "There's so much to be thankful for".

So blame the blabbering on my 'pointless nostalgia'*, but that's just the nature of memory and time, you can only look back and hope you passed it well. I have no regrets. And there is no better substitute for that.

*Thanks to Jamie Cullum

**Inspired by the banner above, John Mayer's "Split Screen Sadness", a little 'The Office' drama both on celluloid and in real-life, and ah yes, July 11, 2005 -- a date that may as well have been yesterday, but in truth feels a million light years away

I'm a Believer

Wed, 21 May 2008 16:12:19 GMT

If I still weren't sure of my allegiance to David Archuleta before this night, no other night but this could've converted me--perhaps anyone--to the side where the ArchAngels roam.

With American Idol final results coming in tomorrow, I cannot say for certain that Archuleta has won the war. But oh, did he win tonight's slugfest! Yes, I agree with Simon's grand proclamations. My sister says it's blind adoration, and to some extent she may be right. But somehow, I refuse to believe it's a shot in the dark, because this evening's performances restored him right back to his old, gleaming front-runner glory.

Both Davids gave good performances for sure, but I suppose the Idol stage is not as forgiving, or at the least, not yet as accepting of those who try to buck the so-called 'system' of the American Pop Dream Machine. They all say they want a relevant, commercially-viable, Daughtry-esque champion, but are they ready to let go of their seventeen year-old, inspirational, singing phenomenon?

Cook said he wanted to have fun, even going so far as to say the competition's over. To prove that he'd "let go", he came in and showcased who he was/is as an artist, with no regard to playing the Idol game anymore. He just went with what he felt he had to do--and that was to play for the crowd. And he did put on a fantastic show, though not necessarily in the context of a classic Idol finals night as dictated by conventional wisdom.

Archie turned the stage into a battlefield, overcoming the media/internet backlash, and using the second spot to his full advantage. All the drama--the vocal paralysis, a Star Search checkered past, the over-pimping, the one-trick balladeer jeers, the lyrics amnesia fiascos, the early favorite that "lost momentum" status, topped with relentless rumors of a stage dad from hell--all that in the past.

He sang like there was no tomorrow, mustering every last breath, punctuating with every forceful gesture. He said it himself--it all felt like a dream. And as if he were going to wake up from it any second, he savored every moment. He was in his moment.

It may seem like old hat, but in the end, perhaps that's what we're all still expecting to see. If you still find it difficult to imagine what Simon means by a master class vocal; Paula's sentiments of feeling hearts, spirits and beings; and of course, Randy's pronouncements of 'molten hot lava' or 'hot man vocals', then by all means refer to David Archuleta.

When I watched him, when I heard him, I knew I was witnessing the Idol finale. I knew this (insert Seacrest's trademark pause) was the American Idol. In spite of this pessimistic, conspiracy theory-laden mind of mine, he gave me hope of a victory. No matter the outcome tomorrow, he made me a believer.

In Archuleta, I believe.

Trading Places* (or the Andrew Lloyd Webber Night of musical proxies and switch-ups)

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 20:28:18 GMT

Tonight I play the role of blogger, one I haven't stepped into for some time now. It is, however, the second week in a row that I'll be watching American Idol by my lonesome. Yes, I am back in Manila, but the Queen of Recap is dog-tired, fast asleep and won't be bothered to get up. Instead, I earnestly take on the daunting task of editorializing my Idol viewing experience--let alone posting an entry. Pardon me Patty, I'll dare trade places with you (this week only).

Now every year I dedicate ~~at least~~ one entry to American Idol. I then reserve all the pent up thoughts for Patty's comment page. I usually take my chances on Standards, Big Band, American Classics, what-have-you themed weeks, being my favorites. We're at the halfway mark this season 7, and there are still no known spoilers on such a theme's existence. In its place, we have Musicals night, make that Lord Andrew Lloyd-Webber's compositions to be exact. I'll take this seemingly allied, possible proxy, distant cousin of a genre as my cue.

Coming into this week, my sister and I had our bold predictions. David Archuleta could pull off another big bad ballad moment with "Memory", as Jason incorporates his Jack Johnson-esque stylings on "Think of Me". For Carly, time to solo a duet on "All I Ask of You", with Syesha then bringing on the drama with "You Must Love Me". And Brooke could go all-out 'genuine' with her emotions on "I don't Know How to Love Him".

Surprise, surprise, these songs were actually part of the repertoire, albeit all mixed up and jumbled, with songs, personas, stereotypes, etc. flying in all directions.

Carly Smithson led the night of switches by changing her song upon Sir Andrew's advice. She backs off from our 'safe' and predictable choice, and finds herself with "Jesus Christ Superstar". And it did work for her--she came out relaxed, looked like she seriously enjoyed herself and just let it all rip. Still, somehow I feel no symapthy for this girl, and as I've always said, couldn't care less when she gets the boot.

Syesha Mercado easily managed to give the best overall performance of the night with "One Rock and Roll Too Many" (from "Starlight Express"). I loved everything about it--despite her choosing the only song I wasn't familiar with--the apropos theatrics, the exaggerated animation, that sexy red dress, and of course the vocals. She looked confident, at home on stage, and unexpectedly extremely likeable. Clearly, the brassiness and bravado she showcased, is further proof that she is in her element when making the grand gestures as opposed to the small and intimate moments.

Those moments that Brooke White exploits to the core. And so it was potentially a good move that she took on our pick for Syesha, "You Must Love Me" (from "Evita", movie version). Notwithstanding the do-over performance booboo, somehow her shakiness and unsureness matched the story she was telling--a desperate plea for a whole lot of love from the voters. Not to worry, Brooke, VFTW (Votefortheworst.com) loves you. I just find it completely naive and forgetful of her to say that it was her first time to do that (start over a song). Anyone remember, "Every breath...every breath you take... It's a pity since Brooke connected with the song, as she usually does. She gets the song, her nerves just manage to get hold of her more.

And this time around, Jason Castro fails in both the emotional and vocal department, producing the poorest number. Though darndest hard he tried to muster a half-decent version of "Memory" (from "Cats") I couldn't get past the blatant misfit with his musical archetype--this was a song Little David could easily have breezed and riffed through. Perhaps he could have owned it, but he was too uncertain, too scared of it, like he knew the song was too big for him and he was resigned to the fact (complete with obvious gasps for air). Can't say much about this performance, except that no one should attempt to sing about the twilight years when one has hardly begun a career. Don't get me wrong, this is in no way a smear campaign of one of my favorites--just taking my newfound role of critic to heart.

With the two consistent bottom-dwellers (Syesha and Carly) stepping, no rising up this week, and the folksy, erstwhile fan darlings (Brooke and Jason) resting on shaky grounds and voices, what to make of the two men who share nothing much in common save for a name? This season has shaped up to become not so much a battle of Davids and Goliaths, as it is a tale of two Davids. The two contenders seemingly destined for a confetti-riddled, pyro-blazed, tear-soaked finale.

Now the classic plot would have David Cook rocking it out, or at the least stamping his hard-edged vocals on a song you'd least expect him to tamper with. Instead we are served something else--novel, fresh and hot-off-the-press. No, not in a convoluted, inside-out sort of way, but straight up, no-nonsense singing, as unexpected as you can get with the man who has had a penchant for switching things up over and again.

So the 'word nerd' grew up doing musical theater? And he shows he has the pipes to back it up with a controlled and haunting "Music of the Night" (from "The Phantom of the Opera"). Well, we always knew he had a voice, but he never did present it this way. Of course he's no Michael Ball or Michael Crawford, but Johnny Depp, oh yes he could! I can suddenly imagine him doing Sweeney Todd's "Epiphany" or "Johanna" (and I die!). Strangely enough, watching him didn't blow me away as much as I though it would (hyped, maybe?). Still, an excellent move on his part, and for sure the studio version will be topping the office playlist.

To rival his stiffest competition, David Archuleta goes head to head with a Phantom number in his arsenal. As Cookie does serves his song Archie-suspended note, Little David slips into Rocker David's role of musical blender/bender, with an updated version of "Think of Me". He valiantly forges on with our choice for Jason Castro, and rightfully so he does.

He stepped out of his comfort zone (agree with Paula), in more ways than one. He sang a song made for a girl (not just any kind of girl, but a diva mind you). Admittedly, that may not be too much of a stretch for the boy wonder. For once, he opted for an honest-to-goodness romantic love song, and not one of universal platonic love, or worse, the inspirational fluff that has sadly become his niche.

The arrangement, a tender, simple pop-R&B infused ballad, may seem lightweight when compared with the powerful "Music of the Night". But lest we be deceived, David A. still lets the inner diva loose with the ad-libbing and vocal curlicues tumbling throughout the melody. I staunchly disagree with Simon. Yes the song was definitely pleasant, but not all weak or forgettable. Who's to say what's memorable or not, anyway? Surely, his version will be on my player for months long after the finale.

Beyond the eye-squinting, lip-licking and yet another alleged case of forgotten lyrics, it's The Voice that keeps me hooked on D'Arch. Say what you will, at least his performances make me smile. And tonight was no exception. Defend my manok to the death, diba Jeff?

Tomorrow night, for as long as the three males are safe, I can rest easy. I somehow feel cushy about The Cook and Il Divo Archuleta, It's Jason I'm worried about (Gajima, Jason!). It would be unjust to let go of Syesha after that performance. Carly can go, for all I care. At this point, things are only as solid as Brooke's next quivering breakdown.

With that, I think I've cemented one thing, one role at the least. The role that makes me utter the words 'American' and 'Idol' every so often; that, which makes it imperative for me to download mp3s faithfully and promptly store them in the newly christened K drive; that, which makes me strictly limit OT to 11 pm on Wednesdays and Thursdays; and which keeps me inside a frenzied pop bubble.

That role of Idol addict.

And that is one role I cannot easily trade in, at least not in the next month, not until fates are decided at the Nokia Theatre.

*To Patty, Rickey and Michael Slezak, my Idol idols. I know I could never seriously trade places with you.

Teach me how to sing

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 15:46:00 GMT

In our office, we've all figured out each other's 'stress-coping mechanisms'. It's become a known fact that I take to music during these unforgiving moments at work. Then again, regardless of the circumstances, I don't think I can kick the habit of singing or humming along to my MP3s. _leche has already pointed out the startling and sirena-like properties of my doing so. Diba, Jeff? :)

With the past week spent in overtime overdrive, today's tension of beating a supposed deadline, and even more unnerving unravelling of events, a trusty playlist has kept me company. There is one particular song, however, that was on repeat today. Stephen Sondheim's "Green Finch and Linnet Bird".

Since I just watched "Sweeney Todd: Demon Barber of Fleet Street" over the weekend, I've been listening to the soundtrack over YouTube. The movie is no doubt riveting and the music even more haunting and lush. Before seeing the film, I was only familiar with one song from the musical ("Not While I'm Around"), having had to learn it from voice lessons long ago.

Lyrics here and the movie version of the song at my Multiply.

Green Finch and Linnet Bird
(from Stephen Sondheim's Sweeney Todd)

Green finch, and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird,
How is it you sing?
How can you jubilate
sitting in cages
never taking wing?

Outside the sky waits
beckoning! Beckoning!
Just beyond the bars...
How can you remain
staring at the rain
maddened by the stars?
How is it you sing
anything?
How is it you sing?

Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird
How is it you sing?
Whence comes this melody
constantly floating?
Is it rejoicing or merely halloing?
Are you discussing?
Or fussing?
Or simply dreaming?
Are you crowing?
Are you screaming?

Ringdove and robinet
is it for wages?
Singing to be sold?
Have you decided it's safer in cages
singing when you're told?

My cage has many rooms
damask and dark...
Nothing there sings,
not even my lark.
Larks never will, you know,
when they're captive.
Teach me to be more adaptive.

Ah...
Green Finch, and Linnet Bird,
nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing.
If I cannot fly...
Let me sing.

I'll resist the urge to cheapen or muddle the already beautiful message of the song with any more long-drawn philosophizing. Suffice to say, I've been learning to sing, even in the most unexpected places or situations. Still, that doesn't mean I'm discounting the thought of flying. I'll take my time for a song or two before taking wing.

***

Speaking of de-stressing and music therapy, I think my Libre horoscope this morning was spot-on when it told me, Makinig kay Ne-yo para makapag-relax. In between Sondheim and Stacey Kent, the thumping hip-hop beats of 'Crazy' and the laidback 'Can we Chill' or 'Angel', among others, all help to unwind. Buti na lang may ipinamanang MP3s. Thanks, jody2b!

***

Happy Birthday Ina! :)

The delicious cakes (go Chocolate Chip Cheesecake!) and the perfectly timed give-aways (UP planner. Well, not necessarily your doing. Haha!) made the day.

Too bad (or good thing) you missed Des's pakain for the OT crew.

Here's to more beautiful, stress-free days for you!

“Few things will capture your heart. Pursue these.”***

Mon, 14 Jan 2008 16:09:29 GMT

I'm in love with the idea of love and romance, despite the lack of requited experience of such. Then again, romance can be found anywhere, the simple, silly or sublime, and in any manner, either by oneself or with another person. Still, there is probably no grander and more established expression than that of a wedding.

I recently attended one and since it had been quite some time since the last, I was pretty excited at the prospect. It was also a nice way to cap off my long holidays. As the ceremony drew on, it became clearer to me that as special as each one of these occasions is--weddings are essentially all the same. Cynically put, it's just another bride, another groom, another church, another day.

No four hours seemed to pass by as quickly as those did. The bridal march (note the punctual arrival), father gives away daughter, couple says their I Do's, bride and groom kiss, cameras flash as family and friends pose at the altar, guests head off to the reception, partake of the feast, husband and wife slice the cake, slow dance to "The Way You Look Tonight", the wedding singer serenades, all eyes turn to watch the 'on-site AVP', toasts are made here and there. All executed with that expected precision. My anticipation of the event felt eons longer than the actual experience itself. As if the moment could pass without my noticing it. But of course, I exaggerate.

One thing I didn't see coming was how the couple veered away from the trend of writing their own vows, something I surprisingly appreciated. Sometimes, the more long-winded and personalized, the greater the tendency to get lost in the verbal clutter (this journal being a good case in point), and perhaps the greater the probability to forget and break the promise. To hear those words simply uttered, ...to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'til death do us part, there could be nothing more solemn or more sacred. Words that carry so much weight, it's a wonder how some people can rush into saying them, and an even greater wonder as to how many truly mean it.

Then there's the much-awaited or feared garter/bouquet toss, depending on how you look at it. It was only my second time to join the festivities, and my first as a 'realistic' candidate for the possible 'consequences'. Of course, these parts are no longer done de rigueur, but always involve some wicked twist to catch everyone unaware. My mom wisely points out that these gimmick-driven portions of the program have sprung up because of a change in mindset about marriage. Whereas years back, wedding photos would show ladies in seemingly un-ladylike movement just to clutch at the flowers, guests today shy away from getting so much as a petal.

Women (and men) for their own different reasons have been putting off tying the knot. Yes, it is a vocation, one that heavily involves the full cooperation of another to make it work. Yet, it is also a gamble, a great risk that you can never be fully sure of.

For some time now, I've opened up to the idea that marriage isn't for everyone. That there shouldn't be some timeline or deadline for it to happen. Still, for someone who isn't writing off the whole thing, I know that it doesn't come by a toss of chance. It takes time, an amount of hard work, planning and yes, some sort of timeline. As much as it will come when your time comes, you need to make yourself open for that time to come. Like catching a virus by exposing yourself, rather than locking yourself up. By opening the windows and letting the heady atmosphere envelope you.

As any well-meaning well-wisher, I wanted to place something heartfelt for my message to the couple. Michael Nolan words it beautifully,

"There are many things in life that will catch your eye,
but only a few will catch your heart. Pursue these."⁺⁺

Thinking another way--sometimes what the eye perceives, the first judgments, the appraisal of things as they appear, all these pass us by so quickly and are forgotten with ease. Other things take time, simmering slowly under the covers and once these creep into your heart, questions arise and therein lies the challenge. The heart is a strange funny thing, while easily prone to lightning-fast jolts and impulses, it is just as dangerously susceptible to slow and insistent chipping, to layers peeling off one by one. And as fast or slow as they go, these are the few things that capture your heart. Whichever way, one should feel it and know it.

Peaches and Vince, they have been blessed to have captured each others hearts, and even more blessed to have had the courage to pursue the great unknown. The excitement ends for the wedding guests as they sip the last glass, hear the last strains of the music, and head on home. That is where the magic of the wedding lies, to embark on something so unsure, but to forge that beginning with all faith, optimistic hope and the certainty of only love.

***

The beginning of this year has been no less eventful, with the extraordinary and unforgettable ushering in the times. Just the first week back from the holidays brought with it a lot of surprises, questions and challenges. Deadlines met, with the promise of an onslaught to come. Milestones and moving up, disappointments and roadblocks. The emotional upheaval with the coming and going of people who will be missed dearly.

My heart, my mind, my spirit, all of me, are captive by the things that surround me. I am hit hard by walls knocked over, either by brutal force or the persistent knocking over the years. I open myself to the change, to the new, to the unexpected that 2008 may bring. I'm going to let it in.

***

**edit: Pictures from Peaches and Vincent Cayanan's wedding at My Multiply.

⁺⁺And I quote from the quote I included in my message to the couple. Thanks to Michael Nolan.

***To jody2b, all my admiration goes out to you and your courage to follow your heart. Ad Astra Per Aspera, words to live by indeed :)

Turn On the Stars*

Mon, 31 Dec 2007 14:22:04 GMT

Not that I want to be accused of plagiarism, but here it is in its entirety, the short story I sent as my Christmas/New Year message for 2007. I sent a condensed version, including only passages that I thought would contribute to the point I was driving at.

In my search for some meaningful rhyme, I found not poetry but prose from an old, unlikely source. After poring over anthologies, some children's books, it hit me to look through an old fourth-grade textbook, Silver Secrets (from Anvil's 'Our World of Reading' series). Yes, unbelievably, I still have a copy on hand. And as geeky as I may sound, I really liked reading the stories in this book, even outside of class. .

From Ma. Elena Paterno, the editor of the said textbook, here is "Whose Star?" for anyone who cares to read the full text. As this isn't for commercial purposes, I'd like to think I'm doing the work good service by exposing it to you people who have long been out of fourth grade. Excuses, excuses. :)

"Whose Star"**
by Ma. Elena Paterno

He woke up because he felt a wind. The boy looked around him and wondered at the silence. It was the hour of siesta, and no one else was awake, even if it was a sunny, cool afternoon, even if the morning rain had left wetness on the grass, and the sky clear.

The ground was still muddy but the boy did not notice. He breathed in the smell of rain in the air. The space was open, the grass green. The boy ran, flew, his face thrust against the wind. "I shall run fast as I can, and you will push against me, but still I shall run." And he laughed and the wind laughed with him.

When he tired of running and the wind tired of blowing, the boy sat down. He climbed the guava tree to watch the dusk fall on the earth. The crickets began to chirp, softly at first, then louder, until the air was filled with their sound. He watched the lamps go on in the houses, and the light seemed to bring them nearer. He knew his mother would be calling for him. It was time to go home.

He jumped down and set off. He did not run for there was no more wind to laugh against him. Suddenly a light etched a white arc in the sky. It ended in a flicker in the grass underneath a tree. The boy went near to look and it was beautiful. A white light, warm but not hot, bright but not blinding. A star. He knew at once that it was a star.

He held it in his hands. It could be his star! He wanted to keep it for himself, keep it to glow for him. His own star!

The chirping grew louder, until he heard nothing else and the sound pressed against him. No it is wrong. Wrong to keep a star away from its place in the sky, selfish to keep its glow from other people.

But it is mine! Finders keepers. The boy looked into the white center of the star. How bright it was, and how warm. He thought of other children, watching out for the first star of the night to wish upon (But surely one little star...).

He whispered to it as he held it in his cupped hands. He wrapped it in a handkerchief and held it up, a lantern. It was a lost star, and it belonged to the sky. So he swung his star lantern with big circles of the arm. And then he let go.

Another arc, bright white against dark, a handkerchief falling to earth. The star, his star, rose, rose and joined the moon in its vigil over the night.

The boy reached home in time for supper. He saw his grandmother holding her rosary beads in the front porch, took her hand and touched it to his forehead. "Look," she said, "only one star tonight.

"Yes," he said, "only one star. But one star is enough to build wishes on, enough to keep the moon from being lonely tonight."

She searched her grandson's face, then smiled and said, "Yes, it is enough, one star."

It is a beautiful thought, that a solitary thing, a single act can make all the difference. And I have been blessed that 2007 brought not just one or two things but so many stars, so many somethings and someones to truly light up my life.

And if I may keep with this year's running theme of making wishes and following dreams, it'll be all good, for as long as I continue to hitch my cart on even just one star.

***

*To completely turn around that song title from Bill Evans' and Eugene Lees' Turn Out the Stars

**To avoid any lawsuits, some proper acknowledgment:
Paterno, E. P. (1991). Whose Star?. In E. P. Paterno & N. N. Hermosa (Eds.), Our World of Reading: Silver Secrets (pp. 128-130). Manila: Anvil Publishing, Inc.

***For some pictures from last Christmas, just hop on to my sister's Multiply. When I get around to it, Ill have some other pics uploaded.

MB Out of the Office (the Cebu Sojourn)

Wed, 26 Dec 2007 16:49:29 GMT

A much delayed post on my third(!) day-away with Millward Brown. First there was Bohol, then Bangkok, now the Bay--Plantation Bay to exact. Anything to bring a third B to the lineup :).

It was my first time in Cebu, and it was a treat to see both the uppity and the ordinary side. The first two and a half days were spent in the famed resort, while our group (composed of me, Ina, Jody, Des, Jeff, Robbie and Cean) extended for another night to frolic in the city proper.

A few things learned or thoughts culled from the trip:

How Christmas can actually be trumped as the season for unrestrained chow
How some clients cannot seem to understand the concept of having days away from the office (just ask Des)
How pleasure is easily derived from a hammock, a good view and streaming music
How I re-confirmed that staring out at bodies of water can be far more relaxing and enjoyable than being in them
How it also doesn't hurt to take a dip, actually swim a few strokes and be out in the sun
How I cannot become a professional synchronized swimmer, but can still get a kick out of pretending to be one (thanks to Ina, Robbie and Cean)
How to catch a frisbee with one hand
How to avoid being 'killed' by an unknowing officemate at the pool (Hello Jen!)
How videoke isn't just about the singing--or even singing in chorus--but also about the dancing
How 5-star service can be so quick and efficient that you feel a bit guilty about a no-tipping policy
How pension can be spelled differently (read: Pensionne)
How to make sure there is a difference between a wacky and a serious shot (right, Jody?)
How to expose oneself in all naked glory (well, almost) during a massage
How the nation does not entirely revolve around Manila, where coup threats in the capital are not representative of the state and mood of the country
How three simple letters like KFM can consume endless hours--even days--of purely meaningless, ridiculous fun (blame it on Jeff)
How it feels to be scolded like a bunch of rowdy students, when no longer a student
How Jobert Sucaldito should fear for his life
How Datu Puti, Mang Tomas and Papa Ketchup are no longer just condiments
How we may yet be on the cusp of a new way to evaluate emotional 'brand affinity' (harhar)
How expensive doesn't always mean good food and how 'value for money' is brought to another level with Krua Thai
How exhorbitantly expensive everything is in Manila
How you also get what you give (i.e. pay for) when it comes to accommodations
But how, in the end, it seriously doesn't matter where you stay, but the company you're with

And funny how the question is not exactly where the next trip will be, but whether we'll be around for the next one.

***

Captioned pictures that tell the story at My Multiply.
Thanks to _leche, Robbie, Ina, sunm00nandstars and Che for sharing photos!

For even more Cebu chronicling, here are some links of interest:
Warning: Possible repetition of photos, but hey, it's always good to get a different perspective.

Ina's pictures at MB at Cebu!
Jeff's pictures at MB at Plantation Bay, Cebu
Jody's travelogue at Memories to Keep
Ina's videos of our Olympic moment here and here
Des's pictures at Cebu Day-Away

There's Always a First Time

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 10:29:49 GMT

Nerves may take hold, but no anxiety can stop the moment when its time has come. And so it is in such a manner that I make my latest encounters with an audience and public performance. The past weeks have been set up to tell the tale of two firsts. One to further advance my professional career, the other to fulfill an amateur's wish.

It may be hard to believe, but it's only been recently that I formally presented to client. See, the Millward Brown way has managers as the frontliners when making the face-to-face presentation. No, I am not a manager, but yes, my bosses decided it was high time for me to do the deed.

To my advantage, this came at a time when I had the luxury of time. All these precious hours to prepare, read through it over and over, scrutinize the figures, conjure up questions that client could throw my way, make endless notes, and so on. Just as an aside, remind me not to make a habit of blogging about work. I just don't want to.

Unfortunately, though, this study was an advertising pre-test (that's Link^TM for you), and well, let's just say this client's ads never really yield results that are a walk in the park. Always and forever problematic, to say the least. Couple this with my first time jitters, and such neophyte concerns as getting used to presenting while seated(?), I couldn't get into that positively pumped state of excitement that officemates buzzed about.

After so and so slides, *click click*, low score here, high score there, reasons behind such, significantly better, nonetheless, nevertheless, thus, we conclude and recommend--spouting out words as best I can, hoping I'm being clear enough. In the end, we're all our own harshest critics, aren't we? So for my self-assessment, definitely not terrible for a first, and I'll leave it at (lots of) 'room for improvement'.

What matters now is I've hurdled that first step and gained a smidgen of experience. The fear of the completely unknown can be erased from my list.

If it's stage fright we must discuss, there's a much better place to experience it than some client's conference room, and that would be nowhere else but a music stage. September 18 marked my 'nth' first singing gig. These opportunities to sing come so far and few in between, that every time feels like the first.

For the longest time, I've been exercising my vocal chords at the occasional reunions/parties, school activities, intermission numbers, standard karaoke nights out, and even gathering up the courage to join in some open mic sessions on jazz nights. What makes this one gig particularly memorable is the fact of actually belonging to and performing with a passionate group of jazz hobbyists**.

An honest-to-goodness performance, with a professional sound system, live instruments (a pro sax player and the finest amateurs around), 'groupie' parents, and round that up with such requisites as 'band practice', set lists, call time--all new territory to me. Indeed the idea of being a (jazz!) band's vocalist just awes me.

As much as the thought amazes me, to actually find myself in that position also winds me up tight--and that proves to be a problem. The inner critic was on overdrive: was my voice thinning out from the nervousness, was I 'connecting' with the crowd, did I hold that note right, is my posture fine? Thankfully, I could count on mom and dad for their honest critique. Yet again, definitely not bad for a first time, and yes, there's always room for improvement.

Setting aside the gnawing feeling of should-haves and could-haves, somewhere along the way, as the performance draws on, I sense a sliver of satisfaction. And why not? I am living a fantasy, finding that oracles from a college yearbook may be more prophetic than we give them credit for--researcher by day, jazz/lounge singer by night.

If I can just learn to let loose, maybe I can toss out such lines as Jimmy Jones at the piano, Jimmy Jones at the piano a la Ella Fitzgerald.

This all reminds me of the first time I recently ventured to the far end of a ship called Anchors Away at Enchanted Kingdom. How does one enjoy with insides fluttering and funny stomach sensations? All I need is to follow _leche's valuable advice to just relax, let go, "Huwag mong pipigilin". Simple and effective wisdom at the amusement park.

As I swing up and down, from moment to moment, I should take joy in the ride. It won't come the same way everytime. Then just maybe, I can say good-bye to it all--the semi-paralyzing anxiety, the hyperactive nerves, the stage fright--for the first and last time. And really abandon myself to the experience for the first time.

* * *

Sadly, this is not the first (or last) time that a bomb drops chaos and brings a tragic end to lives. Shame on me for seeing this as a setback to Friday night plans, but really, my heart goes out to all the victims. God bless us all.

* * *

**The Jazz Making Rounds band, physicians who love jazz. Thanks to Tita Miriam and the rest for taking me into the fold :)

*Click the links for assorted pictures of gigs and Millward Brown's EK Day-Away

"My land's only borders lie around my heart"*

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 15:54:13 GMT

Has it actually been a year?

Exactly this date in 2006, I mourned the end of one Philippine Idol aspirant's journey. After that now iconic performance of "Be My Lady", I was shocked at the premature farewell for Reymond Sajor from the Idol stage.

Still, God's plans are grander than anyone can ever imagine, and fast forward to August of 2007, Reymond is not only a Philippine Idol, but a talent worthy of world recognition. That voice, that determination, that heart--he has indeed crossed borders. Solid proof that dreams travel only as far as you're willing to take them.

The last time I heard Reymond live was at the WCOPA fundraiser, where I was lucky enough to witness that powerful number, "Anthem". I can only imagine how magical it would have been to hear the actual winning performance, but the outcome of it all resounds well and clear enough.

Yes, Reymond, you may not have 'won over' this country, but the world has become your stage. And I am so glad and proud to have been cheering on from the beginning.

So forgive me for this long overdue reaction, but there is a reason and a time for everything, as Reymond himself has so perfectly displayed. Could anyone have known that a year after the tears, a far greater victory was in store?

My warmest congratulations go to Reymond Sajor, Grand Champion Vocalist of the World. Somehow, I knew it all along.

* * *

Catch Reymond Sajor on November 23 at Eastwood City for a free concert/thanksgiving show, along with other WCOPA winners (Aria Clemente and Raki Vega)

* * *

*Lyrics from "Anthem" (from the musical Chess), Reymond's winning piece.

In Love With 'E' Forever

Sat, 22 Sep 2007 18:22:26 GMT

It's just as well that I haven't changed that banner on my profile page. Long seasons after, it now fits again with the mood and mantra that has surrounded the 21st of September and the weeks leading up to it.

Was it only yesterday that we were coining cheesy yet ardent catch phrases as Vote Like Yamin it, Yaminions hold dominion, and the die-hard, Yaminions, no matter what the opinion? We can even go way back to his astounding debut performance on the Idol stage, "If You Really Love Me", to week after week of top caliber performances, to the tense and nail-biting results shows, culminating in an against-all-odds top 3 spot, sealed with a tearful and poignant good-bye. Now, it all comes down to one definitive moment. These are things you don't even begin to imagine, having your American Idol in the flesh, be within the same breathing space, and hear him live.

Nevertheless, there I was at Elliott Yamin's first ever concert/promotional tour outside of the US, at the Ayala Trinoma. Of all the places to begin his international expansion, he chooses the Philippines. As I sat facing the stage in my fifth row seat, with the iconic Idol oval-shaped screen as backdrop, I could only pinch and bruise myself silly, but here it was, a dream that had come true.

What does it take to ensure a fantastic Friday night of Elliot Yamin proportions? Lots of hoping and praying that schedules fall into place, bosses who indulge your fanatic tendencies and amusedly allow you to report to work late and leave 'early', fellow fangirls who take the early morning journey, ditching work and class. With Patty and Ina in tow, we get in line for the mall opening, literally run Amazing Race-style toward the main concierge and marvel at how many people had come for the much coveted seating stubs. It was a proud moment, though, for us to see the snaking queue for our Idol--this little E-train really could and how.

The show itself lasted less than the allotted hour, but every minute was well worth it. We clapped furiously, screamed lustily, waved our hands, pumped our fists, sang along, shouted for more, and just relished every note he let out. As soon as the band members came out on stage, the crowd was delirious. Elliott kicked off the acoustic set with his album's first track "Movin' On", one of my favorites. I still would have wanted to bring the energy level a notch up. Yes, I know we had seats for sitting in, but goodness, couldn't people stand up, dance and groove a bit?

With every number, we anticipated the next song, making our guesses based on his spiels (Elliott mentions Iraq, Patty says Trainwreck--Wrong). With each opening strain, we'd shriek with anticipation of what he had in store. Cameras clicked and flashed; the videocam rolled. This was no holds barred adulation and fangirl-ism of the highest order.

The line-up included the amazing "One Word", the inspirational "Find a Way", the infectious chorus of "Free" (all together now: alright, alright!), and the soulful "Trainwreck". The debut album "Elliott Yamin" is a solid, first-rate effort, but his live performances surpass the recordings with his warmth, spontaneity and easy presence. Elliott comfortably melds genres, from pop, R&B, soul, jazz, creating his own sound.

Then came the time for that song, perhaps what most of those in the audience had been waiting for--his certified Philippine radio hit, "Wait For You". Snap, the throng just lost it and went crazy. The reception was overwhelming, really, who knew he had become this popular in these parts of the Islands, as I believe he puts it.

The show would not have been complete without the Elliott classics. Reminiscing his Idol days, he introduced the moving piece "A Song For You". Backed only by keyboards, his voice rang true, and brought us all back to that haunting first audition. He then thrilled everyone with an a capella encore number of "Moody's Mood for Love". Who could forget this star turn on American Idol, and his first recorded single?

Still, I will always remember the head-bopping, feet-thumping number, "In Love With You Forever". This was the only song I was not familiar with, being a B-side track from I-Tunes. He got our hands clapping along with the rhythm, as he laid on the funk and soul, repeating the line, You are mine with such joyful conviction.

As if staging the show wasn't enough, the Ayala production included a chaotic but commendable effort to bring Elliott 'closer' to the people. The Meet and Greet portion, as well as the CD autograph signing proceeded in the most hierarchical of ways. With stubs ranging the entire color spectrum, our Elliott encounters-to-be were determined by the different colored tickets we held. Some would be lucky to get a picture with him, others would have his scrawl of "Salamat" immortalized on their CD liner notes, while others would get an autographed photo of the man. Choose one or the other.

The three of us (Patty, Ina and I) were fortunate to be part of the first 50 buyers of his album at the Odyssey booth set-up that morning. I was lucky number 21, the date of this most memorable evening. We waited out our turn behind the ropes, and before we knew it, we whisked ourselves into the inner sanctum. Just before we got on stage, we held our own mini 'meet and greet' session with the band members (Aaron Goldstein, Joonie Gary and Russell Ali, who was hot enough to merit a photo/autograph.

My Elliott moment is all just a blur now, ranking up there with such surreal instances that go by far too fast. Did I spend far too much time gushing and praising him (amazing is in danger of being overused!)? Or perhaps spelling my name P-A-M-Y, and making sure he got it right? All the while, he seemed genuinely attentive and grateful. With a few strokes of his silver marker, some friendly words, then a damp, sweaty hug, it was over. No picture to capture the visuals, yes, but the feeling still hasn't worn off.

When all three of us were offstage, we yelled one last "We Love You Elliott", with all the giddy adoration we could muster. In love forever could be an understatement, even.

More than just the excellent talent, Elliott Yamin brings a groundedness and humanity to the dizzying world of celebrity. He truly is the most real person I've ever seen on a reality TV show. With no need for gimmicks, he endears himself to his audience with a personal connection that no other Idol can match, past, present or future.

Before the life altering Philippine Idol or the scorching beat-boxing of Blake Lewis, there was Elliott Yamin, the first Idol we truly rooted for.

And no matter what the opinion or the season, I'm still a Yaminion.

To borrow our old sign-off phrase from long ago--Elliott pa rin.

* * *

Edit: More pictures at my Multiply

* * *

*Patty, could there ever be a monumental Idol experience without you to share it with? I can't wait for your recap ;)
**Ina, aren't you glad you came? I am. Let it all out, there's a lot of Elliott Love to go around.
***out_of_focus, Yam, thanks for the beautiful shirts; 24fps, Cla, for sharing your Elliott moments.
****And thanks to Des and Jody--dinner was lovely, the wee hours of the morning engaging, and the ride home safe and sound.

In a sentimental mood*

Mon, 10 Sep 2007 16:56:52 GMT

It's been a while since I discovered the last great love song/piano ballad. I am not talking about just any kind of romantic jazz standard, much less do I refer to the usual kitsch and cheese that abound.

I am perpetually on a sonic lookout for that one song that can grab you within the first few bars, engage you in an emotional tonal dialogue, and leave you simply breathless. In the past three years, the closest incarnations I've encountered of such a piece include Brad Mehldau's "Young and Foolish", Bill Evans' "But Beautiful", Keith Jarrett's "All My Tomorrows", and any of the three aforementioned jazz pianists' versions of the timeless "When I Fall in Love".

As the universe cannot deny a true-blue sentimentalist for long, this year has brought in its fair share of unabashedly heart-wrenching melodic creations. The emergence (no matter how short-lived) of Pandora has widened this music enthusiast's sources and opened a treasure trove of songs.

Those familiar with Diana Krall, may have heard of the musical direction and arrangement of Alan Broadbent. It was not until this year, though, that I was acquainted with his piano/trio performances. After hearing his subtly and tastefully Latin-tinged cover of "I'm Old Fashioned", I was converted and went on a rabid Broadbent mp3 hunt. This led me to a song that could join the ranks of the haute sentimental few.

From his 2003 album, You and the Night and the Music, "I Wish I Knew" is the perfect addition to the list. Broadbent starts the song with a piano solo, slowly building and heightening the mood with each note. As he launches into the body of the song--actually revisiting the entire melody he has summarized in the introduction--he is joined by the excellent Brian Bromberg (bass) and Pat La Barbera (drums). They then proceed to various improvisations and variations on the theme, never losing you in the alternating lightness and heaviness of it all.

Just as in the other songs I've mentioned, no words are needed to appreciate the performance. No lyrics could speak louder to me or make me feel any more the longing, the sadness, the disenchantment, the confusion, summing up quite aptly the state of my now. It talks to me plainly of questions that need answers, of the things I wish I knew.

I Wish I Knew
Harry Warren/Mack Gordon

Is this the night I've waited, oh, so long for?
Is this my dream at last come true?
Are you the one my heart has saved its song for?
How can I tell?
I wish I knew

I wish I knew someone like you could love me,
I wish I knew you place no one above me
Did I mistake this for a real romance?
I wish I knew, but only you can answer
If you don't care, why let me hope and pray so
Don't lead me on, if I'm a fool, just say so
Should I keep dreaming on or just forget you?
What shall I do?
I wish I knew

Until this hour, I have neither found a vocal rendition of this song, nor an answer to the many questions. These verses seem to juxtapose themselves artificially on the melody, as I imagine them mouthed by an unknown performer. As in life, the answers we seek and the situations we find do not fit as simply as lyrics matched perfectly to music.

* * *

And since there are still many things I don't know, I find myself searching in more ways than one. For the light at the end of the dark spiralling tunnel, for the perfect summary to a report, for sleep to invade my 'night shift', for the return of an appetite snatched away so suddenly, for sense-making in the midst of the number crunching, for that for the next risky yet calculated step.

"Where shall I look for the love to replace you
Someone to light up my life...

Sometimes in stars or the swift flight of seabirds
I catch a moment of you
That's why I walk all alone
Searching for something unknown
Searching for something or someone to light up my life"

-Lyrics from "Someone to Light up My Life"/Se Todos Fossem Iguas a Voce (A.C. Jobim/V. de Moraes/G. Lees)

The first week of September bore witness to one of my more harrowing and exhausting weeks at work. The events of which I would rather not go into full detail in this blog. Moments like these not only make you reflect on your current affairs, but also give you a deeper appreciation of the stark contrast of a weekend that you can enjoy at liberty.

As I drove to pumpkin_friz's party last Saturday, I tuned in to FM radio and came across an exquisitely beautiful song from Eric Benet--"The Last Time". Pardon my ignorance, but that was my the first time to hear it in full, and hopefully my last time to be kept in the dark about such songs.

It tells not just of romance, but of love. A real, constant, sure love. It was a stirring listening experience, close to the feeling of a first time so monumental as to be the last. And there the idea was, just what I was looking for, that elusive moment of finding a feeling so strong, of grasping something so true, a path you could be sure of. To know you've found it, and to hope never to let go.

The idea that after all the searching, there will be no more longing, no more sadness, no more disenchantment, no more confusion.

After everything I've learned;
Now it's finally my turn.
This is the last time I'll fall...in love.

The first time we walked under that starry sky,
There was a moment when everything was clear.
I didn't need to ask or even wonder why,
Because each question is answered when you're near.
And I'm wise enough to know when a miracle unfolds,
'Cause all of my life, I've waited for this day.
To find that once in a lifetime, this is it, I'll never be the same.

-Lyrics from "The Last Time" (D. Foster/A. Foster-Gillies)

Later that same evening, as I sang accompanied by a talented group of jazz doctors, it dawned upon me: there is no one way way, not one thing to know, not one thing to light up my life, or one last time to fall. There is not just one moment of realization, knowing and being without doubt.

It comes many times in the form of so many stars. It is a succession of decisions we make in the course of a lifetime. This day may end with one choice, but the next day begins with another. All choices just as numerous as the songs to fit changing moods.

The dawn is filled with dreams,
So many dreams
Which one is mine?
One must be right for me
Which dream of all the dreams
When there's a dream for every star?
And there are oh, so many stars
So many stars

-Lyrics from "So Many Stars" (S. Mendes/M. Bergman/A. Bergman)

There are so many stars, so many wishes to make, and dreams to will into reality. And once more I look forward to the coming months with renewed hope. I'd like to think this is no longer just sentimental thinking. There is a time for being young and foolish. Let's hope this isn't one of them.

*Allow me to indulge myself with this overly dramatic post. For some of the songs mentioned here, hop on to my Multiply and get yourself in an extremely sentimental mood. Friends with no ready access to Multiply, just check with me, I might have a copy on hand :)

Make Someone Happy*

Sat, 11 Aug 2007 18:48:19 GMT

Yes, I would have wanted to respond to this 'tag' earlier, if only to make him happy. Or at least remind myself of the mundane joys, the shallow, guilt-inducing pleasures.

Unfortunately, the link no longer seems to work. Bah, forget the html code or the 'fancy' tabular format; I'll write it straight out.

Culinary Guilt: Fatty and Oil-Laden Food.
Explain yourself: Actually, forget fatty--I eat the fat itself. I eat pork fat, beef fat, fried fat, crispy chicken skin, 'homemade' chicharon, bulalo (bone marrow), all kinds of fat. While other people sensibly trim the fat off their food, I actually save it. It's one of the best parts of a juicy steak, fried beef tapa, or pork or beef nilaga. I know I'm clogging my arteries and digging myself an early grave--what with a family history of heart disease. And yet, I swallow it down. Do I even sound the least bit guilty here?

Literary Guilt: Inquirer's Weekly Round-up of Tabloid Headlines.
Explain yourself: I don't know if you hate it when people sneak a peek at your copy of Inquirer 'Libre' on morning train rides. Well, whoops, I'm one of those people who try to read my neighbor's paper, be it the Xpress Balita, In Transit or Abante. Not to worry, I only want to read the showbiz columns. With my limited access to down and dirty local gossip rags, Inquirer has been kind enough to summarize it all, complete with their snarky comments. Hot topics for the week? The story of Angel Locsin's next network destination. Should anyone care? Sadly, it seems I do.

Audiovisual Guilt: (Soon to be) Marimar
Explain yourself: Seeing the billboards on the GMA-Kamuning station everyday just intrigues me and, dare I say, excites me about the prospects of this local remake. I never did follow the original show in its heyday, so this suddenly gets me curious. If this will be taking the not-too-early 'Lupin' timeslot, then I should be able to get my fix every now and then. But seriously, I can sit through far more 'inane' shows. Some sad moments of late--watching women literally endanger themselves with snakes, fire and lecherous men on The Search for the Next White Castle Girl; Willie Revillame attempting to sing 'What a Wonderful World' to his Chicago Wowowee audience; the Aljur-Kris-Mart love triangle on teeny-bopper heaven Boys Nxt Door. And the reason why I spend precious time on these? Allow me to cite the 'official' need to watch ads. Work-related. Really now.

Musical Guilt: Katharine McPhee of American Idol 5
Explain yourself: And only because I've probably listened to her album more than Elliott Yamin's (shame, shame). Yes, Elliott, the Idol we lived for in Season 5, against Ms. McPhee who went down the path of screechy performances after her stunning "Since I Fell for You". I have nothing against her music; obviously, I enjoy it. I just find it funny that she annoyed Patty and I to no end, and yet here I am singing along to such songs as "Everywhere I Go", "Love Story" and "Not Ur Girl". To those who will now accuse me of being a traitor, I promise to be present at most of Elliott's mall stops in his Manila tour next month. That I wouldn't do for Katharine. September, here I come!

Celebrity Guilt: Kris Bernal of Starstruck fame
Explain yourself: Why oh why? She's my neighbor, the other half of Starstruck's Ultimate Love Team. The girl who lives a few streets down the road. The girl who used to play 'second fiddle' to her older twin sisters who would dabble in modeling and whatnot. Now, watch her dance to 'Itaktak Mo' on SOP, and flaunt her saccharine/cutesy acting on Boys Nxt Door. Just recently, her home (emphasis on the four-poster bed) was featured on Inquirer's Living Stars. The girl has arrived. As her mom casually said to my mom once, "Naku, nagiging jologs na rin ang mga anak mo." Actually, Mrs Bernal, matagal na. Haha! If she only knew.

In light of Manila losing its bid to Spice up this city, I now invite you to spice up your lives (read: I tag you):
veganpunk_, sunm00nandstars, jody2b, koi_tattoo and anakngbuwan, it's time to make someone happy. :)

* * *

If there's one song I'd single out from July, it would be Sophie Milman's rendition of Jule Styne's "Make Someone Happy". The title of her sophomore album, this song is pleasure through and through, no guilt involved.

My first encounter with this song was some years back--a trumpet instrumental by Chris Botti. Melodically wistful and breezy, it is beautiful without words. Recently revisited, this time with the lines, it takes on more meaning.

The lyric goes, "Make just one someone happy". If you can bring a smile to someone's face, then this should brighten your day, light up your life. If you can love just one person, then happiness is yours for the taking. The romantic idealism is the charm of it all. In her languorous manner, Sophie Milman seduces and enchants us with the idea of lasting happiness.

Listen to the song here

Make Someone Happy
Styne/Comden/Green

Make someone happy
Make just one someone happy
Make just one heart the heart to sing to

One smile that cheers you
One face that lights when it nears you
One man you're everything to

Fame if you win it,
Just comes and goes in a minute
Where's the real stuff in life to cling to?
Love is the answer
Someone to love is the answer
Once you have found him, build your world around him

And make someone happy
Make just one someone happy

And you will be happy too

Now, I don't know about finding that one someone, but I think the line could also describe what guilty pleasures are all about. The happiness is purely personal and private, an acquired taste so to speak. Of course, one day you could find that someone who shares your shallow joys or at the least, accepts your quirks without judgment. That may be the "real stuff to cling to".

Nonetheless, as a firm believer in self-induced highs, there is no better way to be happy than to choose to be so. In the end, the one person who will make you happy is yourself.

* * *

*Smile, my dear. Chin up, cheer up :)

How to make blog entries without "trying"

Mon, 11 Jun 2007 17:06:03 GMT

So I might as well use these memes (this is one, right?) to jumpstart my blogging beyond the Idol sphere. I credit the thief himself. Like him, I don't know where to look for the instructions. The purpose of this exercise would probably be to give insight as to what people who share your name are inclined to doing and making known to netizens around. Simply type "(Insert your name) likes to" on Google, search and compile the first ten results that appear.

Using my nickname, "Pamy", the search gives an entry that features nobody else but me. And no big surprise here, it's about *drumroll*...American Idol. Season 5 to be exact.

From Patty's blog:
"Melissa McGhee (Remember her? first person to get knocked out of the top 12; unworthy member of the top 12; or as Pamy likes to think, stole David's spot from the top 12?)"

And then there's one where this girl (named Pamy, I assume) comments on how the only result that appears is the above mentioned one--when she tried out this meme, that is. "Loser" daw siya. Still, she was elated to find out that "she likes to think". Okay, so maybe she wasn't exactly reading the full context, but it seems she didn't quite get it. I could go on, and possibly get mean, so I'll stop. I guess I'm the bigger loser for taking these things a tad bit too seriously.

How unbelievably "self-centric" can this get indeed. Just when I think I'm expanding my blogosphere, it all goes back to the topics I'm most at home with: me and Idol.

Moving on, let's try "Pamela" instead. Ah, yes, there are more Pamela's out there. So in an order to facilitate the development of this post, here goes...

10. "Pamela likes to be a comedian"

Have you been slightly amused so far with my trying-oh-so-hard-to-be-casual-mala-stream-of-thought post? Haha. Well, you be the judge of my sense of humor. I don't know much about being a professional comedian. I do like comedians and prefer TV comedies to dramas. Also, Steve Carell and John Krasinski just entered my Hot Men list* recently. That doesn't really show my propensity to become a funny person, but these next few items make me laugh.

Enter, Pamela, the happy homemaker.

9. "Pamela likes TO BAKE COOKIES"

Yeah, I do (bake cookies) once in a while. Still, I humbly and gladly give way to my mom and Paola when it comes to kitchen territory. The only reason I'd bake cookies is to eat them, nothing else. Only Sunday afternoons of desperate hunger drive me to look for that good old Chocolate Chip recipe and slave away with wooden spoon and cookie batter. Paola has saved me from the act, though, with her willigness to feed me her delectable creations.

8. "Wife Pamela. Likes to dust"

Funny this should come up. I just cleaned my room this weekend, and gathered loads of dust in the process. I won't even go into detail of how long my room has been denied a spring cleaning and what heights of chaos the clutter level has reached. This reminds me--my office desk is on a dark spiralling path to being crushed by mountains of paper. I better dust it off soon before it's too late.

7. "Pamela likes to explore California with her husband"

Of course, I am "Wife Pamela" so that must mean I have a husband. Well, with or without a husband, I will travel and explore. And not just California, but the rest of the accessible world. One fine day, it'll happen.

***

I know, this could be an entirely different entry but I'm too lazy to write it out separately. With our parents away, I had the chance to flex my eldest sibling muscles and played the part of responsible ate, hell, even mother, if those activities could merit the honorable title.

Saturday morning, I attended an HS Freshmen Parent's Seminar in Ateneo. It was pretty interesting being the only non-parent in the group. I sat through a couple of short introductory talks, listened to my brother's teachers introduce themselves and their subjects.

In true student fashion, I took notes for my mom's enjoyment. Complete with quotable soundbites from each speaker. The English teacher quips, "What can I tell you that's worth P88,000 a year?" Yes, I guess parents do want to hear that.

Bonus points for me: I saw for myself his Art teacher/moderator, a Political Science graduate who ended up taking Fine Arts instead of moving on to Law School. According to his students, he is a supposed Keannu Reeves lookalike. Puwede na.

I also got all friendly with the parents of a new student. I learned about their recent family history, the whereabouts and pre-occupations of their four children, and in turn shared my story(proof of number 3 below). For being Ms. Congeniality, I got a free ride back all the way to Tandang Sora.

Sunday afternoon was spent buying school supplies for the three younger ones. Patty and I debated on the merits of the different kinds of whiteboard erasers. Should we go for the cheap (read: P5.00) and non-bulky eraser or the more expensive (P43.00) peel of layer-type? We also looked for the best alternative to the Orion ruler, and loose leaves for ring-binders. Ah, the joys of back-to-school shopping.

Bonus points for me: Visiting the newest addition to the Socorro Ramos book empire, Bestsellers at Robinsons Galleria. I was able to get myself the paperback version of Mark Haddon's "A Spot of Bother". Now to actually read it.

So I digress in a major way, but to get back on track...

6. "Pamela likes to design and create jewelry using a variety of beads"

Arts and crafts? Beyond the confines of Home Economics class? One time, long ago, I actually sewed computer covers, not because they were required, but because I wanted to cover up the computer that did not match my blue-themed room. And so I did, complete with a stencilled on design, "I won't bite" (an allusion to my tecnho-phobia). The computer has since conked out. Only the covers remain.

Currently, I have this little pet project that's been waiting for far too long. With "The Cute Book" from Aranzi Aronzo, I'm going to lovingly hand make felt mascots. Of course, when I bought the book, everyone in the family bet I would not get around to making these cute creatures. Well, true enough, months after the purchase and the search for the elusive felt cloth, I have yet to make a single one. To you who scoff at me now, just wait when I actually my have adorable collection of miniature bunnies, bears, kittens, robbers, aliens and whatnot. Now wouldn't that would be worth blogging about? That is, if I actually complete one.

Perhaps number 5 is the reason why none of the earlier items have happened.

5. "Pamela likes to work"

Loaded statement here. No comment.

Seriously, I work the way I do right now, at this stage in my life, because the situation calls for it. Otherwise, I wouldn't be such a "workaholic". I would much rather be a woman of leisure. Trust me.

4. "In her relationships as in her working life, Pamela likes to call the shots, and there are very few people who are willing to argue with her on that score"

Do I call the shots? Well, I admit, I like being in control of situations. I may not have the last word at every occasion, but I'd like to think I've got a handle on the immediate, on the now. Or at the least, I'll deal with it. Hmmm...that's not calling the shots, that's sucking it in.

3. "Pamela likes to show herself on her webcam and let you know what is going on in her life"

Exhibitionism. Voyeurism. Don't think so. But in face-to-face encounters, I think I open up pretty easily. I realize I even tend to share more than I actually should.

2. "Pamela likes to blog about...Pamela has not yet defined her blogs"

True, this blog has not been defined. In the first place, this blog is not updated. This blog has actually met near-death experiences. If not for the nudging of those who care to read about me, Brad Mehldau or Idol, I wouldn't bother to make an effort. Prdon me, but if I may slip into stangsti-mode** for a moment, this blog is just about as defined as my life is right now.

1. "Kelly summed it up simply, I think Pamela likes to hear herself talk"

I don't know Kelly and Kelly doesn't know me, but I agree with her. No, not only because I talk to myself. For someone who 'tries' so hard to come up with entries, I blog at amazing lengths. Congratulations to you made it this far. Brevity is not one of my strong suits. Deal with it, if you must read this blog. :)

Thanks to Patty and irinafan's Cartonage for the new layout. Reminder to self: don't forget to credit.

*Patty and I came up with 52 guys each (all celebrities or "non-real" men, of course). And what you may find fascinating about these lists, is that there were no reptitions between us. Nope, not a single one. Imagine that :)

**The term Lex/PB/my brother has coined to refer to the sentimental-emo-angsty-type. For a full understanding of the concept, read him. Stangsti he is.

Seemingly out of time and out of place, but still a Classic*

Tue, 01 May 2007 18:41:22 GMT

American Idol 6 is in full swing. That is a serious understatement from someone who has been familiar with the name Blake Lewis when he was but only a spoiler for a Top 40 spot on the show. And so the Top 9 week's theme of 'American Classics' seemed just about the right time for me to muster up a once in the season 'self-obligated' entry.

Now, I was planning to rehash my advice to the Idols post from Season 5, but never got around to doing it. Last year, I had a ball coming up with choices for them, none of which actually came to fruition. Well, what about making an actual, straight-up recap? Nah, not me--I'd rather leave that to the Queen herself. So here's my belated (yet again) effort to come up with a post about the show I love the most.

Naturally, I'd been looking forward to this week, what with Tony Bennett as the guest judge, and anticipating which classics my favorites would choose. Would the songs be taken from Bennett's latest album, Duets: An American Classic? Or would they pull off a theme a la Gwen Stefani, songs that inspired Tony Bennett (which, in my opinion, would still be miles better than Top 10 week)? How would it measure up to the Rod Stewart's Great American Songbook week from Season 5?

To begin answering my questions, I headed on to rickey.org first thing that Wednesday morning for the audio uploads. As I scrolled down the page, I was ecstatic to see such songs as "Night and Day", "On a Clear Day" and "Stormy Weather". Tony Bennett had, at the least, put together a discerning and diverse track list, devoid of Idol cliches like "What a Wonderful World". And while he could have easily slipped in one of his signature and overplayed songs of late, "The Way You Look Toninght", he wisely did not, showing us just why he is a class act.

When I started loading the songs into my Zen, I realized how many versions of these songs I actually had at my disposal. The eventual activity left for me to do, was to come up with a playlist featuring the American Idol covers side-by-side with the professionals' covers. Yes, I do love the standards, but I must confess that I am no purist. With no disrespect to the singers of that era when standards were the pop songs, I enjoy listening to contemporary reworkings of these tunes rather than hearing the 'originals'. American Idol versus the established music idols? Let's hear it then.

Mack the Knife (Kurt Weill/Bertolt Brecht, 1928)- as performed by Blake Lewis
Compare with Robbie Williams

If Blake were jazz, he would be cool jazz--"white and light". Blake is smooth, suave, laidback and yes, Blake is cool. Be it country, dance music or the standards, he never fails to bring that hip, devil-may-care nonchalance. If one were to judge him on vocals alone, some would find this a weakness, but watch him perform and that is where the magic lies. He works the Idol stage, and swings just enough for my tastes. He even manages to slip in some scatting by the end to make up for any beatboxing that he couldn't incorporate. In the end, it works.

Of course, Robbie Williams has more punch, more brass, more bravado. Perhaps, Robbie understands what he is singing about. "Mack the Knife" is about a dashing criminal and the song tells a tale of theft, murder and rape, among others. Blake could have brought out more of that cockiness and daring, and color his voice with a darker, macabre tone, if actually possible.

Then again, what am I talking about? Who am I fooling with this 'critique'? Blake may fumble or fall short, but no matter what he does, I will always Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive.

Night and Day (Cole Porter, 1932)- as performed by Phil Stacey
Compare with The Temptations

Phil easily chose the most romantic song for the evening and was vocally appropriate for the job. To me, he is the balladeer of the bunch, and while the judges are now telling him to stick to country (or whatever it is they mean), I still believe he can sing anything and make me want to listen to it. His voice is easy on the ears, with a rich and full timbre to it. When Paula Abdul compares him to Sinatra, I don't feel that Old Blue Eyes had any reason to turn in his grave. Though a far cry from the legend, you could sense that somehwere in that song, you would hear even a shadowy ghost of Frank.

If any of you remember the scene from "What Women Want", when Mel Gibson and Helen Hunt are slow-dancing in an empty apartment room, this is the song that was played. There are a great many versions of this song, but not a lot of them are able to capture the longing, the desire, or the obssession with love that The Temptations' version exudes. Phil, I think, stayed true to the spirit of the song.

I Got Rhythm (George Gershwin/Ira Gershwin, 1930)- as performed by Melinda Doolittle
Compare with Ethel Waters

Melinda sang Gershwin--a song not performed often lately, giving her a perfect chance to own the song. And how she does, quite wonderfully at that. She proves that she truly has got rhythm and so much more. Melinda has the chops for these songs. Her phrasing is impeccable and her interpretation is fresh, updated and confident. There really isn't much to say, except that my Melinda-Meter for an outstanding performance is satisfied. My jaw drops and my mouth gapes at awe (translated as: napanganga niya ako).

And so with the limited comparison--I could only get hold of a very old version from Ethel Waters--Melinda shines. I dare say that she has the better version hands down. I have yet to hear the actual original by Ethel Merman, but I don't think that enjoying even that would detract from the first-rate musical experience that is Melinda.

Don't Get Around Much Anymore (Duke Ellington/Bob Russell, 1942)- as performed by Chris Richardson
Compare with Natalie Cole

Chris charms with his performance, perfectly playing the playboy turned 'home' boy with this song. As one of the show's resident 'cuties', he convincingly leads us to believe that he isn't getting around anymore. He plays up to his strengths, choosing an uptempo number with a lot of room for movement, flash and razzle dazzle. If we are to compare him with Blake, he slightly edges over the other slice of Cake, with a little more pizzaz ad flair. He rarely gives an honest-to-goodness solid vocal, but he most always entertains.

With Natalie Cole we hear the female point-of-view, as she swings and scats, giving us a song that we can pointedly call jazz. With Chris, you actually forget that he's singing a standard--not that it's a bad thing. It's just the guy next door, telling the story of staying at home, dateless on a Saturday night. And he makes it sound as promising and endearing as it could ever be.

On a Clear Day (Alan Jay Lerner/Burton Lane, 1965)- as performed by Jordin Sparks
Compare with Tuck & Patti

Funny, but I haven't actually heard Barbra Streisand's version, and this is what Jordin refers to in the VTR. I am familiar, however, with Tuck and Patti's guitar jazz performance. The one where Tuck Andress rips into a mean guitar solo, as Patti Cathcart scats effortlessly, inflecting a gospel/soul vibe into her vocals.

In contrast, Jordin is accompanied with a full big band and given a pop ballad treatment. Jordin hits the high notes and floats beautifully through the song. She seems to just coast the surface with a wispy quality, rather than plunging depths and forcefully belting, which I think works very well. She dips and rocks the boat occasionally, with gasps for breath now and then. Still, breathing problems aside, skies are clear and Jordin sails on.

With this performance, Jordin definitely won me over. She may have been praised for the dramatic "I Who Have Nothing" or the lung-busting "You'll Never Walk Alone", but in my book, this pretty vocal trumps them all.

Smile (Charlie Chaplin/Joh Turner/Geoffrey Parsons, 1936)- as performed by Gina Glocksen
Compare with Madeleine Peyroux

Gina had the misfortune of being most obviously out of her element in a week that was unforgiving for labeled and typecast rockers. Her version of the popular standard was indeed a simple, straightforward rendition, and I think she did well to stick to the melody rather than rock it out. Unfortunately for her, the solid but safe performance cost her a slot in the Top 8. Strangely, this was just the right song for a send-off, "that's the time you must keep on trying, smile what's the use of crying, you'll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile."

Listen to Madeleine Peyroux's warm, playful and even folksy version of the song. Hear her breath life into it, with an almost French chanson sensibility. And notice how Gina could not infuse an iota of her identity in her own number.

Cheek to Cheek (Irving Berlin, 1935)- as performed by Sanjaya Malakar
Compare with Jane Monheit

Can Sanjaya sing? Sanjaya can sing. The problem is that there seem to be no layers or textures to his performance--the reason why he seems flat and weak in comparison to the stronger contenders. Still, with this song, Sanjaya displays a comfortable if not entertaining presence on stage. He is vocally pleasant and, well, easy listening. He glides from one movement to the next with ease. Be it dancing with Paula or smiling for the cameras, he is American Idol's media magnet.

Now, if we must unfairly compare him to the pros: Jane Monheit, even in one of her less complex and seemingly lightweight performances, still shows us the layers and textures that come with good singing. She is sparkly, bubbly, sassy and an utter joy to listen to. See, Sanjaya's is a modest and dragging slow dance, while Jane Monheit's is a merrily performed grand production.

Ain't Misbehavin' (Harry Brooks/Andy Razaf/Fats Waller, 1929)- as performed by Haley Scarnato
Compare with Peter Cincotti

Haley gives us a classic example of how not to interpret a song, or how to show your complete ignorance of the lyrics. Not that she can't remember them, but that she fails to convey their actual meaning. While she promises to stay true and save her love, she blatantly opposes herself with the visuals onscreen.

As she awkwardly shifts tempo, the number turns from sexy lounge to raunchy girlie bar. My sister and I are in agreement that Melinda employs the change in speed with far greater skill. To her credit, Haley plays the part of flirty hoochie dancer to the hilt, with no reseravtions. She ain't behavin', that we can be sure of.

Peter Cincotti, meanwhile, gives us such an earnest vocal, that when he sings "your kisses are worth waiting for, believe me" , you can't help but think he means it. The highlight is the piano playing, starting with a playful mid-tempo, flirting with the keys rather than with a lusty audience. He then livens up the pace without missing a beat. He says that Fats Waller has inspired him as a performer, and if I were more accustomed to Waller's work, I would probably agree.

Stormy Weather (Harold Arlen/Ted Koehler, 1932)- as performed by Lakisha Jones
Compare with Melissa Manchester**

Lakisha sounds every inch the diva that she is touted to be. She is perfect, flawless, and sings as if she's been doing this genre since forever. From the coy opening to the powerful finish, we have to hand her the trophy for that night's battle of the divas. She purrs when needed and growls at the right moment. It seems a studied performance but never comes out as forced or pretentious. And listening back on performances like these, one really does wonder how Lakisha can ever regain her lost momentum.

The first version I ever heard of this song was Melissa Manchester's. It is a slow-burning bluesy piano number, a stark contrast to Lakisha's showy display. Manchester's loneliness speaks more of a sad solitude, while Lakisha's comes out as a distraught, impassioned plea. Where Lakisha conjures an image of rains pouring in torrents, the other seems to be the soft pattering of raindrops. I could go on and on, but the final verdict: two versions that I can say I enjoy equally on different levels.

Overall, this would still be my favorite theme night of the season, thus far. With a host of 'not the usual' song choices and competent performances, it is a satisfying set that beats last season's effort. The studio recordings can actually be strung together for a satisfactory standards compilation. It was that good.

I'd have wanted to share the playlist with all of you, for your full aural enjoyment. But as always, I was only able to spare enough time to write this out. There may be another time for the MP3 uploading. For those interested enough, just mouse over the featured comparison artist's name for the link to the Amazon or Multiply page.

Can't wait for tomorrow's weekly Idol fix. Well, not that I'm blogging about it, or anything for that matter. I've hit my semi-annual quota, I think.

'Til the next standards night then.

*Forgive me, Idol and Jazz are two excuses for me to cough up an entry so let me indulge this rare moment ;) Never mind that a third of the contestants reviewed here have already been eliminated.

**Sorry, but I could not find a clip for the version. Let's hope I actually upload this playlist on my Multiply.

The Art of the Scoop: Reymond Sajor, Back at The Dish/Club O*

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 16:47:01 GMT

It's always the most unexpected things that turn out to be the most beautiful. At least, that's how it felt to me, being there, on a most unlikely Wednesday evening, ten days into this brand new year.

Barely a month after his Dish debut, Reymond Sajor returned to the same stage, as one of the many guest performers for the soft launch of Club O (the former Dish). It was a new crowd, on a different night, even a new place--if we are to go by names. Yet one thing remained constant, the prospect of being faced with the same talent that is Reymond.

Through the kindness of Reymond's core group**, I found myself with a most unusual, but certainly welcome task--attend this invitational event and eventually write something about it. Unusual indeed for this hesitant blogger who writes purely on inspiration and not out of discipline or habit. Nevertheless, it was a welcome break to the weekly routine, and what better way to start the year than with another Idol surprise?

Looking through the guest list, I found various names with media affiliations, be it from advertising, PR, marketing, print media, broadcasting, and the like. Funny thought, but a researcher could be a welcome addition, couldn't she?

However, I knew I wasn't there in my capacity as a research practitioner, but as a "blogger" out to enjoy the music and the company. So I sat in anticipation, chatted up dear Maui, a yellow glowstick around my wrist, a plate of free food before me, as my head bobbed along to eighties covers from the opening act, Freeverse.

Before I knew it, Reymond's turn came and passed all too soon. In roughly 8 or less minutes, his two-song set was over. In my mind, I could compute the Mastercard equation: 20-minute walk from Paseo de Roxas to Buendia equals X calories expended; 20-minute train ride, 14 pesos; 10-minute taxi ride, 50 pesos; the interrupted work hours mulling over whether I could spare some hours to watch the show--only Maconomy (timesheet) can tell; and the 8 minutes to experience him perform, could not be anything but beautiful and of course, priceless.

Whereas the last time at Dish was the fulfillment of a dream, this night in Club O was a plunge into reality. Here he was, thrust into the real world, amongst artists of varying backgrounds, from established names in the business, with people who have made the rounds of bars and venues, and even shared the stage with musician hopefuls from a 'rival' show.

Reymond warmed up to the audience with Josh Groban's "To Where You Are". With all his talk of being nervous, we at the table started to sense a slight uneasiness mixed into our excitement. All fear was erased when the first note came out of his mouth. He sang it brilliantly as ever, and not even faulty back-up accompaniment could mar this one.

Then came the song. By now, I've heard it more than just a few times, but who's counting? I have surely made up for that time I did not see "Be My Lady" live on Philippine Idol. Still, each time seems different, or maybe it's only the smile on my face that creases in another angle or direction each time.

How else can I possibly describe "Be My Lady"? To borrow the words of a cornball of a television show host on RJTV, "hindi ako nakahinga" (in reaction to Reymond singing the same song for his Saturday program). Barring whatever opinions you have of this host, he has a point with this one statement. Yes, translate that to English--it just leaves me breathless.

And so the final verdict, the "newbie" definitely had something to sing about. This evening was about expanding to a new audience, and he surely won this one over. Once in a while, I would take a glance at the other people to check their reactions. No, Reymond, we were not the only ones clapping for you.

With more than just family and friends, and outside the familiar Idol environment, Reymond held it together superbly. From the congratulations given by the Pinoy Dream Academy Scholars, to the clamor of interviews from press people, there was the creeping sense that he had somehow 'arrived'. Indeed, I found it strange being at a show that included Nyoy Volante and the Orange and Lemons (both acts I do enjoy), and well, having all that fade into the background, being seated with the emerging star of that night.

Now let's not forget, Reymond wasn't the only neophyte in the room. And so what did this "rookie reporter" learn about event coverage? Not much, I confess. I still prefer writing these endless passages, laced with pure and simple adulation, instead of venturing into serious journalistic work. As it is, if this piece had an actual deadline, I'd have been fired immediately. ;)

In his opening remarks, marketing head Martin Ong, quipped that "entertainment never stops" at Club O, just as an 'O' or circle shape goes round. It is a fitting metaphor for this performer who is on a roll. Perhaps, it is also no small coincidence that his career be launched on the opening night of a new stage, signaling a bright start for his career. Indeed, Reymond shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. Venues may come and go, but we believe he's here to stay.

And in that gathering of people--God only knows what each one was out to find--I somehow felt I got the biggest scoop of all. As Reymond Sajor had the Club O crowd eating out of his palm that night, something in the way he performed assured me there would be more crowds and countless other nights, each one to top the other.

Hold that thought. What 'scoop' was I talking about? This was no exclusive information; it was common knowledge, plain for all to see.

*Borrowed from Brad Mehldau's "The Art of the Trio IV: Back at The Vanguard"

**Much gratitude to Carla, Ate Cynthia and Oliver Oliveros for the invitation. Congratulations too, Oliver, for a successful launch!

And of course, to Patty, my camera-toting, ever reliable ride home. :)