Charlie Puths My Feels Into A Song

I'm Palaya

While doing French & Spanish filmfests, it dawned on me how much I miss watching plays & musicals. 

Today, I went for it. 

Ampalaya Dialogues #TwoIsBitterThanOne is something. 

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! 

Film / Película: My Christmas 2017

German Film Week last week, Película-Pelíkula: Spanish Film Festival this week.

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. 

8 out of 10.

Extroverted Introvert Me

1 You're great with people ✔️

2 Until you're not ✔️

3 You prefer one-on-one ✔️

4 You have social anxiety ✔️

5 You love being alone ✔️

6 But still get lonely ✔️

7 You can meet anybody ✔️

8 You find friendships that need maintenance exhausting ✔️

9 Sometimes, you're bad at messaging ✔️

10 You don't like compliments ✔️

11 You're happiest in cafes ✔️

12 You like going out but then you want to ghost ✔️

Pucha, parang pinrofile ako ng article na 'to ah. Could make for your perfect case study.

So I'm no ambivert, after all. But an extroverted introvert, or at least what I have transformed to be for the past 5 years.

And that coincides well with why, in my recent Myers-Briggs, I surprisingly struck as INFP. Not bleating against my company though:

JK Rowling,

Tolkien,

Virginia Woolf,

CS Lewis,

Antoine De Saint-Exupery,

George RR Martin, &

Shakespeare.

Against All Odds

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.

2016's Sigh to 2017's Sign

I just finished playing my latest wallow song 

True Colors

when I looked up to this:

Maybe Branch and Poppy are talking me out of my 2016 blues.

That my woes could end up whoas.

Damn, Trolls.

War Dogs: A Movie about Bros, Rats

They won the resourcefulness war...and the war inside my heart too.
Simple moral: daig ng mabait ang magaling. 

Of course, anything with Miles Teller in it is 

sure to be starring an angel 

(Exactly! I hate that they villainized him in Divergent).

But I'd still prefer myself to be both.
Hard.

War Dogs. 

Fun movie about not making fun.

As for the rats in the title, well, 

Jonah Hill's line

"I live off the crumbs. I'm like a rat" serves as the DNA of the story.

TROLLOVE

In this world full of Branches, led by yours truly, I never thought this movie would bring out the Poppy in me.

Branch is the jaded one in this universe while Princess Poppy is, needless to say, the epitome of everything joyful.

You see, I never wanted to see this film Trolls. It didn't help that I'm not a fan of the doll line either. But one magical downloads day, last minute, Trolls popped up into my screen.

Told myself, why not?

In the middle of my annual Oscars marathon, gut feel led me to want some light stuff - stuff as possibly feel-good as, say, Trolls. 

Played it anyway.

Five minutes into the movie, I detected the silliness I anticipated it might be full of. If this weren't an animation, I'd call it cartoonized cannibalism.

Halfway through, I fell for Branch. The one who's practically me: jaded, cynical, persnickety. He was the ultimate setback in the mission to save the world or unleash happiness.

And then, out from behind, the story pivots to pack the emotional punch animated films warrant - one that screams aspirational all over. Boy did it wallop me hard. Straight to bully my tear ducts. 

ALAS! A flash flood of tears. All those bottled up inside me the whole, entire time of December in which special occasions deprived themselves to start with "happy" but with "mopey" in its stead.

I felt betrayed. By the heart walled up against any vulnerability.

If some have learned to grow inconspicuously jaded, hopeless romantics can never escape their little mushy selves in them.

This scene was that little mushy self:

So little yet so big on the heart. Unexpected tearjerker.

And while I never ever liked Phil Collins' schmaltzy hit True Colors, this was the very song that bullied my heart to finally let it out. Tucked in the dark corner of the bedroom, a crybaby let it all out like nobody's ever cried before.

True love seemed back. One tear at a time.
Seemed.