A Gathering of Dreamlings and Nightmares

The dork in me had kicked in the night before when I decided to be a good girl and be back at the hotel by midnight. I stopped at two drinks and called it a day.

Neil Gaiman awaits in the morrow and I'll kill myself if I missed his book signing. My friends and I lined up around 7 and were mildly surprised to see a queu already. Person number 38 to be in the line. Hey, that ain't bad at all.

I had some books signed by him two years ago but this time, I felt giddier. I think it's because we also get signed copies of Beowulf manuscript. Woohoo! (I still haven't gotten around to seeing the film though.. sigh..) Anyway, this event was more subdued..The last time, the crowd was rowdier than Brazilians in a football match! I thought Neil was pretty overwhelmed by the welcome. Haha!



I had Coraline signed this time. It was a toss up between 1602 and that actually. But Coraline was my favorite children's story of his. The idea of an impostor mother with buttons for eyes was particularly creepy. I had dreams about it for a week.







Write. I like that. Everytime I feel tired and lazy to write even a few sentences, I'll be sure to open this page and remind myself to just write.. Even if didn't made sense, for now.


Oh, and the coolest thing was I met (well.. sorta, if you consider a 60 second encounter thing) had my picture taken with Mike, Neil's son. I wonder what he thought of all of these.. being in Manila, and all..



I think I told him I'd be sure to maybe someday read that Catch The Red Bus book his dad said he used to read to him when he was small.. I'm sure my godson would like that..

Ad Congress Volume I (Stirrings of a Bacchanalian Junket)

I haven't slept in days.


Not since the Ad Congress started last Wednesday, no. We all went full throttle, drank and danced away into the night, then up at 8am for the early morning sessions. I've never seen so much free booze poured and consumed. Imagine five days of that. You'd think the country's best and most creative minds' saturnalian vacation had finally arrived. Hahaha!



Day 1: November 21, Wednesday



The first day usually meant getting your kits and lecture schedules. Schmoozing with clients and seeing your old office mates who've gone on ahead to become hotshots in other agencies.. It's a sort of industry reunion when you think about it..



But the best thing were the bags and bags of freebies. I love that everyone's just shamelessly demanding free things from the supplier booths! Hahaha! I felt like a grocery lotto winner when I opened all the stuff I got -- from flints, bundles of notepads, new magazine issues, pens, 700 sachets of shampoo.. Sure! Give me more!



The Opening Ceremonies that night was a blast but before we all head out into the night for the first of many drinking parties.. we had to present a tv commercial storyboard to Client. For approval. At 11:00pm. Nice, huh? Anyway, we sold a story before midnight.. so high fives to everyone.



Time to seriously party.



Day 2: November 22, Thursday



My favorite writer in the world was the day's first speaker. Neil Gaiman gave such an inspiring talk.. I wonder how one person could be so brilliant. Mr. Gaiman, may we borrow your brain for a bit?

One of the ushers handed me a paper and said I could ask Neil any question I wanted. I wrote whether he preferred gryphons to unicorns.. Went unread. I suppose the hosts wanted a more "sensible question." Sigh..

Things were quite looking up when we got invites to the GMA party. We met up with some of our clients and it was fun seeing them in casual clothes and not looking like stiffs. Hahaha! They were more plastered than we were! What a mighty fine thing it is when Clients start to act crazy and stupidly drunk. For a change, we were the sensible ones! ;-) I've got pictures to prove things best left and forgotten and which I'm not afraid to use to blackmail them into approving my creatives! (I may be kidding, of course ;-))

Totally Hip

in my little planet of Hip, chefs and planet warriors are the new rockstars.

Nothing worth knowing can be taught -- Oscar Wilde

aye
aye
aye

The Nerd, Geek, or Dork Test

Nerds rule!

Your Score: Modern, Cool Nerd

65 % Nerd, 56% Geek, 26% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd and Geek, earning you the title of: Modern, Cool Nerd.

Nerds didn't use to be cool, but in the 90's that all changed. It used to be that, if you were a computer expert, you had to wear plaid or a pocket protector or suspenders or something that announced to the world that you couldn't quite fit in. Not anymore. Now, the intelligent and geeky have eked out for themselves a modicum of respect at the very least, and "geek is chic." The Modern, Cool Nerd is intelligent, knowledgable and always the person to call in a crisis (needing computer advice/an arcane bit of trivia knowledge). They are the one you want as your lifeline in Who Wants to Be a Millionaire (or the one up there, winning the million bucks)!

Congratulations!


Also, you might want to check out some of my other tests if you're interested in any of the following:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Professional Wrestling

Love & Sexuality

America/Politics

Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

...there's a marching band going through my head..

A profound poem I ripped from Des..

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

I *Heart* Hugh Grant

Hugh Grant in tight pants.. who can resist?!

The Lost Weekend

Day 1 (Feb. 10, 2007)
Hot Air Balloon Festival
Clark Field, Pampanga

For a change, not hitting the snooze button on my phone seemed like such a great idea. I was up and puttering about by 5:30am, all geared up and pysched to see hot air balloons up in the sky. Outside Kat's house, the air was crisp yet the sun warm. I knew it was going to be such an awesome day.

Bellies full and backs arched in flight, we zinged to Clark Field under such benevolent skies. I felt like I was a kid again -- all giddy in the backseat and ready to jump out as soon as I get to the airfield.

The festival site was packed when we got there. Kat and I managed to make our way to the area where they inflate the balloon. I sure as hell didn't know that it's restricted area. I sooo wanted to ride one! I remembered thinking and wishing if ever have gotten to ride a balloon, a mighty wind will blow it away with me in it to Maldives!



After all that hoopla, Kat showed us around their Calamansi farm. Which was pretty neat because it's tucked beyond the airfield and it used to be a Japanese hideout during the War. There was this bunker.. actually, more of a cave that she showed us. We all wanted to crawl in and see how deep it goes but the guard said there are snakes hanging around. So we just had to content ourselves peeking into its mouth and wondering what lies inside.


Ella had this brilliant idea of picking calamansi for lunch. It was funny because we were all caught up in the picking, we didn't have any plastic bags to put in all that fruit. Beth's little sister, K, managed to find this posh little bag to use as basket. Hahaha! I think I don't mind picking fruit for sideline, methinks. If the sun isn't all that hot and the wind just right, I'm good.




Day 2 (Feb. 11, 2007)
Crystal Beach, Zambales

We hit the beach much later than expected but not with its share of detours. Armed with only a pixelized downloaded map of Crystal Beach and led by Iking, the bat straight out of hell (aka Kat's driver), we flew across dust roads and acres of farmland for a day of sun and surf.

We practically banged down each gas stop for ice. Kat was relentless. You'd think she was a Crusader on a quest for the Holy Grail or something. We practically feefiefofummed along the way.. Always on a look out for ice. We finally hit pay dirt a mere miles from the beach. We hijacked the place out of ice!

Anyway, when we got there, there weren't too many people around. Except for those loco ones who can't seem to stop from caterwauling "My Heart Will Go On."

The beach was amazing. So are the people I was with.




It was one of those days you wished lasted longer. Not because everything was beautiful and idyllic but because we felt invincible. Where the company of good friends is more than enough and when laughter is the only language we spoke.

Holy Crap, It's Cold

It must be below freezing in today. Of course, that's a gross exaggeration. But I'm not used to being this cold, you know. And I'm typing this with much difficulty and painful slowness. Even my cup of coffee looks inviting enough to dip my hands in. Fuck, man, it's really cold. And I'm sorry if you live in a climate where 18 degrees is nothing out of the ordinary. We're used to up to a high of 30 degrees in these parts. Anything below 18 to 15 degrees of draft is sorta celebrated.

Though, I do kind of enjoy and not enjoy, walking down the street wearing semi-winter clothes, a scarf, and yes even mittens, both at the same time. One good thing about this freaky weather is, I can get to wear stuff I normally don't wear at all. I got to wear my pink faux-fur lined jacket! (Which I bought, like 5 years ago, and collecting dust in the back of my closet). Well, erm, given under such vexing circumstances, it could be pretty en vogue. And secondly, cold weather is making my skin crack and my bones creak. God, I feel like grandma.

The weather guy says it's gonna get colder in February. Not good at all. So much for summer weather. I kind of miss wearing a skirt already.

how do you gear up for a total-monday week?

with a hacksaw to get thru red-tape?

a baseball bat to knock some sense into everyone?

or a hammer to nail that one bright idea?

You are The High Priestess

Science, Wisdom, Knowledge, Education.

The High Priestess is the card of knowledge, instinctual, supernatural, secret knowledge. She holds scrolls of arcane information that she might, or might not reveal to you. The moon crown on her head as well as the crescent by her foot indicates her willingness to illuminate what you otherwise might not see, reveal the secrets you need to know. The High Priestess is also associated with the moon however and can also indicate change or fluxuation, particularily when it comes to your moods.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

nothing..
just felt like taking a picture of my yellow shoed feet ;-)

I'm A TV nut, so sue me!

I am hooked.

Yes, John, just like how you said it.

I'm back on the couch, all vegged-out, and totally obsessed with Heroes.


The show follows the story of several people who find out they have special powers -- flight, telepathy, superhuman strength, the ability to stop time.. These people soon realize they must band together to stop a catastrophe, and as tv cliches go, save mankind.

Before you say what I know what you're gonna say, please stop and don't think it's X-Men.

It's far from it.

What I liked about this show is that it doesn't try to stylize these seemingly ordinary people and turn them into world-saving superheroes overnight. There are no costumes involved. No capes. No dazzling special effects. Just a bunch of people trying to make sense of it all.

"Save the cheerleader, save the world." -- Hiro Nakamura

You have Peter Petrelli, a male nurse who can temporarily mimic the powers of others within close proximity. Claire Bennet, a cheerleader with the power of invincibility. Isaac Mendez, an artist who can paint the future when he's high. Hiro Nakamura, a Japanes comic book geek who has the ability to stop time. Matt Parkman, an LAPD cop with telekinetic powers, among others.

Heroes is one of the most engaging, nail-gripping, superbly-written shows around.

Enough with reality tv. We already live in it.

Heroes will restore your faith back in tv. Watch it.

My Top Weekly Tracks

I'm so effing bored with this stupid presentation I'm doing. Who cares about sales of so and so? Who bloody cares about brand opportunities? Who EFFING CARES?!!!

In the long run of things, no one would remember any of this shit. It's boring and pointless. It's a pain. What merit would I have in doing this? A badge of honor? A fatter paycheck? A fixed hole in the ozone? Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

At the end of the day, you try to console yourself with the thought that you're doing all this crappy shit with a thought of you being really part of something big. How fucking noble.

But what you really think, and is in that nagging part at the back of your otherwise sensible head, is that this 'really something big' is one big piece of junk.

And you've just exponentially wasted your life being that tiny little wheel attached to it and which was meant to bear the brunt of its massive hubris.

Doesn't reality suck?

Library Things and other stuff

I've been obsessing about this Library Un-Suggester from Librarything.com ever since I read about it in Neil Gaiman's journal.

What it does is, see, is it analyzes your online book catalogue and checks it against the other 8 million other people who logged theirs on and compare which books you would mostly likely won't own or would dislike.

Neato, right?

So I keyed in The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald and the Un-Suggester came up with amazing results. The books I'd least likely won't give a crap about are mostly these Christian authors and books about quests on the New Testament and you won't believe, a book called The Gagging of God. (I did seem a bit heathen-ish, don't I?) Errmm.. that's one book I won't bring if I'm stranded on a desert island. Maybe Ivanhoe.

Anyhoo, I've been quite busy uploading and cataloguing my books, because I'm telling you there's a LOT. Some forgetten. Some squeezed in cracks in other people's shelves. It's a disarray, really.

The IC (the so-called sitcom)

More like the sitcom that never was..

What do you get when you put six twentysomethings in one dinner table?

A slew of one-liners, punchlines, anti-punchlines, quirks and smirks in between

cake slices and cold coffee.

Here's an earful of what it's like trying to make sense of life and

making a point

----

John: I don't watch TV, anymore. I download.

Meg: It's the same thing.

----

(Sylvan handing out his MUSE magazines.)

Marge: Ano 'to?Sylvan: That's my latest advocacy.

Meg: Ano daw? What's his latest advocacy?

Sylvan: Arts and culture.

Meg: So, can we send contributions to the magazine?

Dred: Yeah, can we?

Sylvan: Sure. Just send them to me. I'll read them. And then I'll throw them into the trash.

----

Marge: I have colds.

Sylvan: You shouldn't even be out. This is bad for you.

Marge: Yeah. I'm going home by 9:30.

(Minutes later, Marge wolfed down a whole Cold Rock sundae. And she went home past midnight.)

----

Meg: Okay, where we eating?

Dred: Sylvan has one rule.

Marge: Anong rule ni Sylvan?

Dred: No fancy food.

Sylvan: Why don't we try Grappas?

----

Meg: I'm going for NSG.

Sylvan: Sports Grill is fine.

Dred: John hates NSG.

Marge: Yeah, ayaw nga nya.

Meg, Sylvan, Dred: NSG na!

----

Sylvan: I'm organizing a cultural immersion in Banawe. So, you'll all plant rice.

Meg: What? Do you we have to do that?

Sylvan: Of course. How will you know how the people live if you don't experience what it is like to plant rice?

Meg: And, will you be planting rice, too?

Sylvan: No.

John: He'll give the orders.

----

John: Five words. Rasha had a blown-out tire.

----

John: Her tires burst. Near my place.

Rasha. In Gilmore.

Meg: And you helped her?

John: No. I brought our boy.

Rasha: He can drive but he can't change tires.

John. Shhh. You're riding with me tonight! Hah!

Rasha: I can take a cab.

----

Marge: Do you know what happened to Gretchen?

Meg: I've heard about it from friends. Cause you see, the industry is small.

John: Whoa! The industry is small.

(Three hours later.)

Rasha: Do you guys know what happened to Gretchen? But, uhm, well, I just heard about it from friends.

Sylvan: Wow, from friends... Sige nga, tell us.

John: Yeah, let's see who has better friends in the industry. You or Meg!

-----

Marge: Did you get that e-mail? Yong kay Angelica Panganiban.

John: I don't know her. But I saw it. And if that's true, kawawa naman sya.

Sylvan: I don't know who Angelica Panganiban is. I mean, I've heard of her.

Meg: Mildred, explain.

Dred: Okay Sylvan. First, Angelica Panganiban is an artista.

John: That was so mean! That was baaad! It's like saying zero and one are numbers.

----

Dred to Rasha: How was the photo-shoot?

John: Nude. Marge: As in, really nude?

Rasha: Yes, nude. Well, they used some accessories.

Sylvan: Nude? What is this? Where is this?

Rasha: Some high-end photographers' group. For arts' sake.

Sylvan: So, the models are nude?

Rasha: Yes, nude.

Sylvan: Where is this?

John: How do I join? How do I get in?

Rasha: Well, you have to have a cam.

John (taking out his phone with a 3.2 megapixel built-in cam): Will this do?

----

John to Dred: Can I see your phone?

Dred: No.

John: And, why not?

Marge: It has nude pictures.

Meg: Our little lily is a nudist.

John: But I want to see your phone.

Dred: No.

John: You're self-centered!

Dred: Am not.

John: Yes, you are.

Dred: Am not.

John: Yes, you are.

Dred: Not.

John: Are.

Dred: Wait, I have text. My friend texted that Anne Curtis has a new boyfriend. It's on TV.

John: Anne Curtis. You know, it makes me think. And this is really hard. I mean, I go thinking, it's really difficult to choose between Anne Curtis and Heart Evangelista.

Meg: What!?

John: Yeah. Guys have this problem, you know. I mean, look at Anne Curtis. She's okay, but her family isn't. And Heart Evangelista. Her family's okay, but she isn't. It's so hard to choose. It's so hard for guys.

John to Sylvan: Who would you choose?

Sylvan: Hmm. Heart Evangelista because she's wholesome.

Everybody: She's not wholesome!!

Sylvan: She's not?! Okay.

John: So, who would you choose?

Sylvan: I don't know.

John: See, that's my point.

----

John: And Anne Curtis, I mean, sino barkada nya, si Danica? Look at her family.

Meg: Every family's dysfunctional. My mom hangs a bat at our gate and it's not even halloween. And my dog ate our baby Jesus.

----

Marge: We're so quiet.

Meg: Yeah. Let's pick-on Sylvan.

Sylvan: Let's pick on John.

John: Let's pick on Dred.

Dred: Let's pick on Rasha.

----

Sylvan: I don't watch TV, anymore. But I watch Y Speak. I want to know what the youth is thinking.

John: Rasha is youth. What are you thinking Rasha?

Rasha (clueless): Huh? What?

----

Dred: On the phone, John was like, yes then yes, then, yes.

John: Yes, I don't say YEAH, anymore. I'm so British!

----

Marge: So, what do you wear to work now?

John: I wear a suit. And as much clothes as I can.

Dred: A suit! Like Barney?John: Yes, like Barney!

Meg: Who's Barney?

John: How I Met Your Mother.

Dred: How I Met Your Mother.

Marge and Meg: Not again.

----

John: I don't watch TV, anymore. But, did you guys see Fashion Runways? Did you guys see the latest Survivor? And who were the lamest?

Meg: The whites. Hah! That sounds so racist. Whites.

----

John: I don't have a life.

---

Sylvan: We are a consumerist society. That's why, it's only the malls who are thriving.

----

John: I saw Survivor, and I'm hooked again!

Dred: Say it again, John.

John: I'm hooked again!

Meg: It's on the headlines. John's Hooked. John's Hooked Again!

----

Meg: So, if you're in the zoo, circus or something, what will be your special talent?

Dred: I'll feed a killer whale.

Sylvan: Everybody can do that.

John: That's not a talent.

Dred: It's not? It's a killer whale!

----

Dred: Si Rasha, what's your talent?

Rasha: Probably put make-up on the animals.

Sylvan: Yes, she can do that.

Rasha: I can't. Their skin is too thick. It'll be hard.

John: Talagang pinag-isipan.

---

Marge: Ang laki na ng face ko. I'm so fat na.

Sylvan: It's okay. Lahat naman tayo tumaba, eh. Lahat. Para patas.

----

Sylvan: I had flu. I couldn't talk for seven days.

Meg: So you were like (waves and hand signals).... ..

Dred: Yeah, like this? (motions and does hand language).

Sylvan: No naman. I could speak a little.

Meg: Like this? Uhmm.. ugh..ah...ugh.

John: The two of you are so mean. It's like you planted yourselves in the middle of the table, so you can hit on your target!

----

Mildred: You should see How I Met Your Mother.
John: Yeah, 'di mo na kelangan mag-isip. It's so funny. It's like Friends. But without the sex part. Friends is 70% sex.
Meg: Of course not, Friends is not 70% sex. It's 50% sex.
Sylvan: Oh, really, did you make an actual computation?

----