On social media, I captioned this photo "DODGE" - perfectly describing the way you always deal with my feelings for you. See, this is our only picture TOGETHER. Not exactly showing our faces but anybody can see how happy I am to see you this happy...serving your vocation. I'll keep this here. In my little space where there is a vastness of possibilities...
A girl cowed against a concrete post facing the crowd. Seemed compliant to the day’s fun activities but too anxious to fall in.
Caught my attention. I love underdogs.
As I egged her on to join the rest, she leaned against me, angled to sit on my lap, and from that time on, we were inseparable.
Asked for her name. Only got an indistinguishable “eeeh-eeehk.”
Without a name, I watched this baby nibble her candies away like it were some adult’s comfort food. Held her closer to me, and, despite me hating Baby Shark, reassuringly urged her to dance along. What she did next struck a chord with me: she knows Baby Shark so well!
Told myself, my role here is done. She doesn’t need teaching. Shame. But then, she extended her hand to an ambiguous object flying over the boys in the rear.
Carried her towards the source of her wonderment. Loved the awe in her otherwise sallow eyes.
We lost sight of the object but I gained a new insight into her identity. “Cindy! Cindy!” shouted the boys nearby, pointing jealously at the girl snuggled in my arms.
“Eeeh-eeehk” is “Cindy.”
At that, she wolfed another candy. My satisfaction from knowing her name looked like a sweet candy traveling down a malnourished girl’s throat.
So satisfied I offered my hand for a fist bump, to which she obliged. She acknowledged the gesture. Without. A. Word. Smart girl.
Another modest volunteer approached us & smilingly asked to take selfies with us. “Cindyyy,” I cheered to break our faces to an ear-to-ear smile. There she went again: candy-to-mouth. Didn’t care. Naturally camera-shy & candy-greedy.
Came lunch. Without a claim stub given to active participants, Cindy looked on at the queues & stole a glance at me. “Hungry, Cindy?”
If there’s a graceful chance power tripping is deemed favorable, it was this time. Cut the queue to bring Cindy closer to the very thing she’s good at: eating. She’s down to her last candy, after all. She did Baby Shark with as much passion as everybody else. She deserved a reward.
Fed her. Blew every scoop into cooler, chewable helpings. I swear, the amount of rice she devoured was 4x what I usually could. Promised her more chocolates I was keeping in my knapsack for dessert.
Left her for a sec.
When I came back bearing chocolates, her mom was already with her.
“Pipi siya,” Mama Bear coyly declared.
That’s enough to leave me speechless myself.
Few days ago, I busied myself spitting words of regret on social media. But Cindy was God’s way of telling me how words, when you have the power to convey them, should be spoken to appreciate life more for not everyone is given such power other than with their benign soul.
Spoken Word Poetry moved me like I’d never been before. Talented, talented artists fill this country to the brim. May brighter light shine upon them. Kahuhusay at tataba ng mga utak that I suddenly feel mediocre or craving to learn as much, if not more. The show exceeded expectations but this Leandro & this Carlo exceeded “ordinary looks.” Geniuses in disguise!
I call this season "My Christmas" and boy was it merry for me this year.
KUNDSCHAFTER DES FRIEDENS - Senior citizen agents. Outsmarting present-day agents. Recipe for witty-slapstick comedy.
7.1 out of 10.
NEBEL IM AUGUST – Nazi Euthanasia. Depressing. But boy’s phenomenal acting gave the powerful message some softness off-balance filmmaking emanates.
7.4 out of 10.
MEIN BLIND DATE MIT DEM LEBEN – Feel-good. Positivist. Naturally charming. Much-needed destressor I needed. 9.1 out of 10.
SELFIE – Organic. Subdued satire.
7.5 out of 10.
LA PUERTA ABIERTA – Surprisingly entertaining. For a prostitute film. Can imagine Jaclyn Jose portraying this & still come out funny. Unique storytelling.
8.9 out of 10.
LA DELGADA LÍNEA AMARILLA – Started out dramatic. Unfolded comic. Ended dramatic. Surprised dark fantasy master Guillermo del Toro produced such a simplistic movie. Packs some disturbing punch though towards the end.
8.7 out of 10.
BONUS: VICTORIA & ABDUL. Managed to squeeze in some mainstream. Right amount of gloss & inspirational.
The
odds to be unhappy in my December are 1 in 13. Or zero.
It’s
my birth month.
Directing
gigs.
Hosting
gigs.
Bonuses.
It’s
Mariah’s Season (and with her are new projects and surprises to boot).
Christmas
Parties.
Reunions.
Christmas
Day.
Anniversaries.
Film
Fest.
Yearend
Parties.
New
Year’s Eve.
My
closest friends’ and ex’s birth month too.
Yet
2016 amply mustered 13 universes of oppositeness to defy it.
In
every single one of the possible universe of happiness.
There’s
gotta be a pun or punchline somewhere awaiting a best time to desaturate the
madness.
But
till the last second, it stayed that way.
Deadpan.
More
a punch than a lifeline.
In
hindsight, ultimate question goes: was it the year’s fault?
Mystically,
yes.
Realistically,
no.
Happiness
has ALWAYS been a human being’s choice.
Of
himself or of others.
And
I chose to misgive,
to
lose,
to
pass up,
to
reject,
to
snub,
to
skip,
to
ignore,
to be
overshadowed,
to
be rained on,
to oppugn,
to
absent,
to detonate,
to slack
up.
Painfully
inexplicable, human nature is.
I
tried but I didn’t prepare to lose so much.
Too
paradoxical that to globalize the proportions of my own unhappiness, Mariah
Carey can set the perspective to sum up my December 2016 in every perfect sense
of its debacle.
No,
not that musical metaphor.
But THIS debacle:
Too painful to finish like my December. But here we are. A new year ahead of us.
One ending in what many consider a lucky number.
Not my personal favorite but hopefully this number brings better odds.
🧡
