Sudden Clarity, Inexplicable Inspiration, Fighting Form

Last time around, I ended my post with a somewhat personal and nearly violent rant. I mentioned this before; I like ranting. With this in mind, I figured out a way to really get me in the mood to write blog posts that don't get ruined by sudden flashes of anger. Every week, Ill start off by taking about things that I hate. It sounded like a fun idea in my head, so let's put that theory to the test.

You know one thing that annoys the living hell out of me? Fake geeks. See, back in the day, my fellow geeks and I had to go through a hard time being tormented by our peers because we like certain things that were not considered the "in" thing. And now, people think they can just put on fake glasses and get in line to watch the Avengers, play a couple of video games, watch a little Game of Thrones and that earns them the write to call themselves geeks? Uh uh. No way. No sir. It's cool that you like those things, because there's no reason not to, but label yourself a geek once you've walked a mile in our DnD playing-comic book quoting-Hobbit feet. We'll still be celebrating the glory that is MODOK long after the trend has passed and you no longer think the guys from The Big Bang Theory are cool. I mean really, we didn't pretend to be good at playing ball or getting girls back in high school, don't try to pretend that you couldn't get laid now. 

Oh, and by the way, Farmville isn't an MMORPG.

That… felt good. Now, on with the updates.

The Job Hunt Concludes with a Day in the City.

My long quest to find a job that provided a higher level of security and benefits has ended, resulting in… me staying at the Think Tank. 

My decision to stay bloomed during my last job interview. It was the job opportunity I missed due to some not-quite-divine intervention. It was for a web content writing position. It promised all the benefits I said I needed. the pay was good. It was not only in Makati, but it was in a very specific spot in Makati that carried a lot of memories.(I think I mentioned this.) They called me in for a test, and then I had the interview after I passed said test, and I was pretty much informed that I was going to get hired. The catch: it was either that supposedly ideal job or the thankless, comedy writer gig.

Guess what I chose.

I took a long walk around Ayala Ave; had an enjoyable lunch with the Friendly Almost Neighbor and she dazzled me with tales of the Evil Empire; saw a movie with the Human Torch in the cinema in which I've had the most memories with, and I had a chance to think back of all the years I've spent around that area. From the highs (freshman year, 1998 and the years where the Big Grill was home) to the lows (working as a part time phone monkey while being drunk every morning of 2009 and working in the the Evil Empire a couple of years after that) to the pleasant mehs (smoking with the Angels, cigars with Jo F'n Regis, etc.), I realized that those days are over, and what I have now, while not as secure as I want it to be, it is mostly how I want things to be: a regular job with mostly good people that allows me to pay the bills and still do my comedy. And while everything seems different, I am, essentially, me, and I've always been pretty good at moving on and pretty bad at being secure. Freelancer at heart, you see. I'm sure future-me can deal with whatever's coming.  

An Important Conversation.

The product of my previous posts' outburst resulted in a face to face with a friend of mine with whom I was at odds. His response was timely, and we ironed things out. Before I posted the blog, I've had some people attempt to talk me out of such a confrontation, but I'm a firm believer that there are some things that are worth the potentially damaging face to face, then by all means, risk it. The pay off may well be better than one can comprehend. And if the outcome is negative, then there would not be any doubts or regret, or even unanswered questions. Fortunately, the meeting yielded positive results. Important questions were answered, things that needed to be said were said in no uncertain terms.

Without dwelling so much on the details of our conversation, everything was ironed out and I was glad that I did things my way. If I had heeded the advice of people who made it their way of life to avoid confrontation because it's easy, then I think, my friendship with the said person wouldn't have been somewhat saved. That has always been my way. If I had a problem with someone, I talk about it. I fight sometimes, and not because I'm a fan of confrontations, but because I'm a fan of fixing problems. I've encountered several people who don't seem to grasp this. 

For now, I'm just glad things are seemingly over, and there's at least a temporary air of honesty all around. 

A Spree Like Before.

The weekend came, and unlike the previous few weekends of June, I didn't drink with The Tapa King and The Critic. Not really. It was me and the Big Man, and the aforementioned King showed up a few hours later. There was beer, and for the first time in the longest time, there was singing. There was a guy named Aldrin with us (he's been hanging out with us for a few times before) and he was drunk and nonsensical by the night's end. Back to the basic ingredients: loud music, lots of beer, and a drunk guy babbling nonsense. I'd like to think that my weekends are finally back.

The Return To The Think Tank.

After my relentless search for new employment, as well as adjusting to life as a TV scriptwriter, I made my underwhelming return to regularly working at the Think Tank. Apparently, I just needed some time away. The last week wherein I've been showing up to work with some level of frequency reminded me of how happy I was the first few months of working in Alabang once more. The slow, almost non-eventful days and the delightfully mundane conversations with the people in the office was something I missed. Even the repetitive nature of my job is an amazing contrast to the rowdy weekends and the stressful comedy work, as well as a perfect complement to my rather peaceful personal life.

Yes, I'm back, and from all indications, I might be here for good.

Moving Forward.

The job hunt and its results, the confrontation, the newly found bond between me and some of my boys and writing for TV has given me a fresh perspective on the old and the new. With that in mind, my goals, both professional and personal, have become much, much more clearer. I'm ready to take another shot at Hong Kong, at making the comedy thing permanent, at hanging out with the same people in my life now for as long as possible, and at doing it all in my own trademark manner. Don't even think about stopping me.

"The wolf is hungry

He runs the show
He's licking his lips
He's ready to win
On the hunt tonight
For love at first sting

Here I am, rock you like a hurricane" - The Scorpions, "Rock You Like a Hurricane"

High Spirits and High Opinions Don't Mix

The job hunt sorta goes on, despite my still unconfirmed status at the Think Tank. Separation anxiety, plus the need to score some cash, as well as the need for change, all play a part in my ongoing battle with the "should i stay or should i go" drama. Not quite surprising is the rise of another drama that has been brewing for years and has finally reached the tipping point. 

I've heard some really ugly things said about me to a third party, and as I write this, I am still contemplating my response. There will be a response at the end of this post, cause I'm not the kind to not say my peace, but given the choice of letting cooler heads prevail and being… well, me, I'm giving this situation the benefit of second thoughts. I guess we'll see about how I feel at the end of this post.

One of the Gang.

I actually asked the girlfriend to join me, the Critic and the Tapa King for Saturday drinks, though it was not a planned event. See, someone played a rather innocent prank, but considering my history with people wanting to cause me harm, I've decided to play it on the safe side and direct the imagined assailant someplace much, much more used to trouble: the Tapa King's house. Granted, it was not a move I'm used to doing, as I've ventured many of these situations alone, but again, the girlfriend was there. 

Anyhoo, the same way that it was nice to have her around with the Scoobies, it was also fun to have her around with me on guy's night. And I love the new "man cave". This is where we're honest (most of us at least) and openly crass (that goes for all of us). This new routine works for my need of change but my reticence for the unfamiliar. It's all good in the hood.

The Guy Council.

Sunday night, unexpectedly enough, saw another session take form as Jonic (no nickname as of yet, but since it seems he'll be a staple, I'm pretty sure I'll think of one), unable to answer the call to arms the previous night, was in need of company and drinking buddies. We later found out that he was having some sort of woman trouble, the kind that happens on the onset of attraction and right before the declaration of intent. Thus, the first ever "Guy Council". With my vast relationship history, the Critic's experiences as a single father and the Tapa King's in depth knowledge of John Lloyd movies and outstanding batting average with women (albeit with the damaged goods crowd) what you have is the most insightful and entertaining night of guy talk you can possibly ask for. The alcohol doesn't help, but it never hurts.

Now, that was a meaningful way to spend a Sunday night. Kicking back, helping out a bro while simultaneously making fun of his braces and hair and basically everything else we could think of, that's how we used to do it back in the day, and that's how we should have kept doing it. I remember those weekends fondly. Friday nights were for the Grill, Saturday nights were for Marbles, Sunday was meant for domestic drinking and dire discussion. 

I'm guessing we were so helpful that the guy had us over the following Friday for another one. The Council has spoken and will not continue speaking until the drinks are done.

(To those keeping track, yes, I am still sober.)

One on One with a Great Comedian.

As far as my own exploits go away from the girlfriend and the guys, I'm doing pretty well. The comedy writer thing is progressing still, and the latest meeting I attended allowed me the chance to pick the brain of one of the few local comedians that I admired. True, it was on the rooftop of the network where people seemingly smoked weed, and true, it lasted the duration of two cigarettes, but when you hang out with the right people, any short amount of time would be educational. We talked about his early days as a comic writer, and how he does his thing right now. He asked about me, and he seemed to be genuinely interested. (Seemed.) He gave me more than a few tips about surviving in the trade. What got to me most was his general demeanor. He doesn't walk around acting like he was important, despite of what he's achieved. He's a guy that has been making people laugh since the late 70s, both on and off screen, and there he was, just happy to be doing what he does.

I'm not a big fan of authority, and like I mentioned several times, I rarely get impressed by titles… but I do know how to recognize and respect my betters. And when it comes to the field of funny, few are better than Pete. If I do get old, which I doubt, but if I do get old, no matter what I end up doing, I will always try to be happy just doing what I do. Seems like a right way to live.

The Job Interview That Wasn't.

While I've been going back and forth on the Think Tank thing, I still thought it would be a smart move if I kept applying to jobs I potentially might like. One office called me, ironically not one of the dozens I sent my credentials to, and told me that they were ramping up. It was an opportunity to go back to writing online, one of the longest jobs I've ever had, in Makati, the very street where I met the Angels, and it was for a graveyard shift position, thus still not interfering with my comedy thing.

But then, the universe, in the form of my mother and inept workers, stepped in. The shitty movie I made in the summer premiered, but technical glitches cause the movie to stop as it played. The copy I gave them worked fine, but whoever reproduced apparently thought burning DVDs was may too complicated for his skill set to do properly. So she asked me to make copies. Preparing movie for burning takes two hours. Burning it into a disc takes twenty to thirty minutes each. I needed four copies. I came from my TV network meeting, way up North. I had my job interview the following morning. Do the math.

I woke up the following day, a little over lunch time and way past the time of my interview, and went over to my mother's house for updates. Apparently, someone else figured out how to make the fucking discs work in the first place, and there was no immediate need to make copies.

It was then that I figured that going back to working 18 hours days juggling two or more jobs still wasn't in the books. Awesome.

Wholesome Saturday With the Scoobies, Not-so-wholesome Satur-night.

It was the celebration of Marvi's first-born, and they decided to celebrate by going swimming. My financial status would have rendered me unable to show up, but it's fortunate that they picked a resort that was a stone's throw away from where I live. We spent an afternoon eating, talking, eating some more and generally staying sober, all the while preparing ourselves for next month's trip to the beach where something extremely important happens. 

I, for one, am excited for that. The annual trip to the beach is great, but to be a part of someone's turning point, it's something that I can't refuse. Damn, this really is an eventful year for me and my Scoobies, and it's only halfway done.

That same night, as the rain poured, I visited the man cave once more and it was on. There was booze, there was the Council, there was Jonic (and he brought his muscle bound friend) and there was the Girl Who Saved My Life. We were loud. We were funny. People passed out. There were even a few heated discussions. At the end of it all, despite certain bits of unsavory information, we had a good old fashioned night.

My constantly legendary weekends are back, thanks to friends old and new. (Mostly old.)

Straw, Meet Camel's Back.

And now, we've come to the end of the post. See, what led to this was something the Tapa King revealed to me at Jonic's on Friday night, and while most of the things weren't really revelations, one particular statement caught my attention as it was nothing less than an insult. I was all for a confrontation with the guy who made the comment, but the Tapa King requested I don't, and so did the girlfriend, each having different reasons.

There were many things to consider. There's the source of the information, who, while not being a known fibber, isn't as good as relaying information accurately and objectively. There's the history with guy who made the comment that, if for no other reason than sentimentality, perhaps causes me to not want to react the way I normally would. But then there's my own view of right and wrong, and not addressing such an insult in kind would be wrong. Then there's logic, dictating me that a response is not only futile, but also unnecessary. There's also honor, in how my own personal code encourages me to do what I feel needs to be done, regardless of the consequences. But then there's the social structure that is so delicate that how I may react to the message would ripple throughout that sphere. But then, there's the insult itself. It seems that someone thinks a little too highly of himself and assumes that I, along with our other friends, are envious of him. Gee. Now I'm embarrassed. It seems that you've figured me out. Yes, I am envious. After all, I've always wanted a wife i could cheat on. (That's sarcasm, in case they don't discuss that in your "who's the one with the biggest bank account" meeting.)

Apparently, there was a comment I made in my previous blog post that may or may not have caused a lengthy tirade wherein said insult was made. So now, here I am, blogging once more, and it's time to address that matter and that person. No cute nicknames, minimal jokes, just mostly straight talk from me, to you. You know that I don't edit or even proofread my blog, so you should know that all of this rings true to me. This is might be a rather long rant, but trust me, this is me holding back.

First off, you don't need to worry about Mak. He's still your little errand boy whenever you need someone to help you get laid. As for your little assumption, really? Envious? Me? Of you? Of what, exactly? Again, I'm sincerely considering the source of this info, but if this is how you really feel, then you know what, if that's what makes you feel like the big man you so desperately want to be, then by all means. See, I was supposed to go off and blast you for every single reason why me envying you is just one of the hundreds of preposterous things that I have had both the privilege and misfortune of being exposed to in my life, but after rereading the above sections, as well as thinking back to the last several years of my life, I realized I don't need to. Good, bad or downright ugly, I've always been happy and proud for who I am, what I've done, and how I've done it. Can you say the same?

What bugs me, as always, is that you had a problem with me, and you saw fit to just get drunk and whine to Mak in the same place you seem to be very fond of making stupid decisions instead of growing a pair and discussing it to me face to face. But then again, that's not really your strong suit, is it? You can scold someone half a world away over the Internet but doing so to someone who lives approximately 15 minutes from your house is something you can't do.

Tell you what, since you've always prided yourself in being able to be in control of things, you contact me when and if you want this thing aired out. Bring Mak with you if you want, I don't really give a fuck. One way or another, you and I are going to have a talk. One of three things are most likely to happen: One, we talk, you use your usual argument style of using a loud voice and tossing irrelevant curses and insults. Two, we talk, you try put some sort of spin or justification on the situation, seeing as you think of yourself as quite the  liar. Or three, you vanish for weeks while continuing to badmouth me behind my back. I promise you, if any or all of those thing occur, I'm going to make you regret it. It may not happen immediately, but I will. Another thing I can assure is that when we face off, I'm not going to be as tact as I am while writing this.

I'm not trying to be a tough guy and such. I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not, but I will not be disrespected by anyone, especially not someone from whom I deserve better. I'll be waiting. 

No Prize for Consolation

The year's halfway done, and things have changed. It's still that time of the year, and I can't believe of noticing this just now, wherein I do some sort of clean up. Around June this time last year, I became single, I had feelings for a particular girl that I ended up not going for, I started doing the TV stuff and a bunch of other miscellaneous shit. The year before that, around June, I believe I just started working a new job, hung out with a bunch of new people, I was living in the Big Man's house and all that other shit.

This time around, it's no different. Here I am, just a month or so in as a TV comedy writer, working on a second (and hopefully less shitty) movie, and looking for the possibilities of a new day job. The past week didn't really show great strides in that last thing, but here's hoping. I gots to get paid, and I gots to get paid soon. Somewhere else that is.

Getting Creative.

As I mentioned before, I'm not the kind of guy that gets starstruck normally. Hell, I have a big TV in my room and I don't use it, so I'm not up to date on who the supposed stars are for me to be struck in the first place. As I also have mentioned, my short (and possibly temporary) stint in the TV network had me in awe of the comedic talent that has graced the creative meetings so far. Last week, I finally got the chance to be in the same creative meeting as the man himself: Michael V. To those who may be living in a rock that's filters out more information than the one I usually inhabit, this guy is perhaps the premier name in local mainstream comedy, and there he was, reacting to a sketch I wrote in a somehow positive manner. Boom. I metaphorically jizzed in my pants out of sheer pride.

I was in high spirits after that, despite the looming poverty and unemployment. (One can argue that yes, the TV writing thing is employment, but I don't necessarily see something I enjoy as a job. I don't know, I think it's important that there is one aspect in one's life one can constantly bitch about, and for most people, it's the job. So I really need one. That, and a steady paycheck would be sweet.) It was a temporary high, but if there's someone who appreciates a temporary high, it's me.

Another good thing about the meeting is that they finally want me to sign a contract thingy. It's either my supposed two month stint is to be extended, or they just need the paperwork so they can pay me for the work I've done so far and wish me well on my future endeavors. Either way, it's awesome.

The Job Hunt.

The fact that I need a job and that I keep bitching about a having a job may be a bit misleading. I still am technically employed. I spoke last week to the new HR person at the Think Tank, who has always been one of my top five non-Breakfast Club people in the office, about my intention to quit. As of right now, she's still helping me with options, but I've been advised to keep doing my thing as long as I'm employed. It's going to be hard to do my job though when I mentally have one foot out of the door.

I had a couple of promising leads on jobs for companies that would still allow me to work in Alabang while being a completely fresh breath of air. One was for web content writing, which happens to be the longest day job I've had (two years or so, I think, back when Ortigas was synonymous to home) so the transition wouldn't be that hard. Plus, given my credentials and experience, I was in line for an attractive financial package. The other was a writing gig that would have me double as the GM's point person in meetings with clients. Also in Alabang, also was supposed to pay well.

I decided not to go for either of the jobs. And for the life of me, I can't really pinpoint why.

Oh, there were several factors. The music they played in the lobby wasn't cool. The HR person who called me about my application sounded rude, and worse, boring. There was also this nagging image in my mind wherein I would be walking around in a suit and carrying a tablet and being all corporate-y and professional. Normal people like to refer to it as "grown up". Sensible people, you know, the ones who don't jump at the opportunity to sell their souls for money, refer to it as lame. It's shallow, yes, and grossly impractical and idealistic. But, I am impractical and idealistic, and I think everyone deserves to be shallow once in a while.

The thing is, almost all of the jobs I've had, I jumped into because they were there. Hence, the early exits. While I regret nothing, I'd like to hold out for something I can really settle into. I don't want to turn into a mass produced douche-bag who severely lacks identity, like some of the people I know who are clearly on the wrong path. I like looking at the mirror, seeing my ugly mug and accepting that ugly mug with a smile.   

A Fitting End.

With a week full of unremarkable highs and lows, what better way to end it with two of the most unremarkable people I know: the Tapa King and The Critic. The Big Man was not able to join us because of some network marketing cult activity. (I'm not slamming the guy's choice for a livelihood, all I'm saying is, if you join an organization that presents an ideal lifestyle and mindset while encouraging you to recruit other people to embrace that paradigm in exchange for some form of reward… you're in a cult.)

Anyhoo, the three of us, all unemployed or soon to be unemployed, all broke and still coming from three extremely separate paths and schools of thought, yet finding ourselves agreeing to some pretty strong concepts, drank as the rain poured down. In fact, that particular section of the Tapa King's house, the disarrayed third floor that substitutes as a work place, is perhaps the ideal place to drink in, especially with the typhoon teasing its arrival. The place reminded the Critic and I of the Gadgeteer's house back when we were in college.

It was an ordinary night, something that, much like the previous weekend, exactly what we needed to end the week. I really see the value of these two chuckleheads now. The Critic, despite being emasculated and pretty much had the majority of his brain cells fried beyond any point of salvation, is one of those rare guys who will always try to see the best in people. After everything that he's been through, the Critic has become an insecure guy, which sucks, but he's the right kind of insecure guy. He's not the kind who would silently compete with his friends, or talk shit about them behind their back just to make them look good, or be extra loud about his or her meager accomplishments. There's one in every group, and it's usually the least attract, least intelligent, least accomplished, and least interesting. Thankfully, the Critic is not that guy. Right now, he's just a guy who's waiting for his turn. I, for one, am rooting for him.

The Tapa King, on the other hand, is someone I just figured out. Not entirely, but I have a better idea of who he is, especially after we shot the shitty movie where he hands down was the MVP on that particular team. He's a working class dude who takes pride in being a working class dude. I admire that. He's uncomplicated. He lives, he works, he drinks, and he's happy as long as he manages to do all of that shit. And the guy's legit too. You know how some broken, low self esteem dudes go to strip clubs and get duped by the girls there to drop huge amounts of hard earned money? The Tapa King's broke as fuck and he has all these women of ill repute going to his house to do the nasty. That shit is game, people. Respect. I guess those stripper mind games only work if the guy has mind. (BAZINGA.) Seriously speaking though, I'm impressed. Not just with the whole ladies' man thing, but how he somehow managed to find what makes him happy, albeit not completely. I don't impress easily. Of all the people that I personally know, there have only been four persons that have impressed me. Marvi and her husband Kokoy (they count as one), Ol' Football Head, The Therapist, and Shelly. Now I'm counting The Tapa King among those people.

Again, pleasant night, surprisingly insightful conversation, a little gossip thrown in and I had me a good night. I just wonder if next weekend yields the same results.

Inspiration Strikes.

With all the uncertainty in the air, I found the best way to ease my mind. Sitting in my room on a Sunday night, I intended to wrap up the treatment for the next movie, but hanging out with the two idiots woke something up inside of me that I haven't had access to in a while. I flipped open the laptop, and banged out a couple of scripts for short films under the Coffeehouse banner. And since I have access to a camera and an editing device, I think it's the perfect time to live out some Coffeehouse Dreams. I just need to assemble the right crew and cast. 

Let the changes come. I've proven I always stick the landing, anyways.

"All stuck in the middle

between what is and what might be
a great sensation
has swept the nation
everybody wants the image you’ve got for sale" - Motion City Soundtrack, "Boombox Generation"

No Pics, No Songs, Not much Else

You know what I hate? People who say that they're at a crossroads. It's a silly state to be in, and it's a stupid announcement. What would be more accurate would be something like "I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do next". With that being said, I don't what the fuck I'm going to do next.

This year has been a good one. I'm in a relatively healthy relationship, I finally managed to finish a feature length movie, and now certain dreams in comedy have come true. On the flip side, I'm still broke (long, complicated and rather asinine story) and I've been thinking that it's time to rejoin the real world of sorts.

I'm a closet self loather, hence, I am at a crossroads. 

Time Off.

After one of those creative meetings for that TV network thingy, the rain poured down and I was sorta stuck up North, in Ortigas. It was actually nice, as I haven't been to Ortigas in a long time. Considering I've spent a great deal of time up there from 2007 to 2011, it was nice to take a walk on those familiar streets. It was then that I began this secret personal project of mine that I'm looking forward to finish before the year ends.

It was also up there that I became afflicted with a fever that rendered me unable to do my job at the Think Tank. That led to a week long period of isolation where I've had nothing to do but to write and to think. The most prevalent thought that nagged me concerned my continued presence and employment at the Think Tank. I've been in the company for a year, and I'm a point where, being used to doing three or four things at a time, I'm seriously considering taking some real time off (not the fever imposed time off). 

I need to move on, to instigate change, to do some shit like that. I'm not exactly in the same place I was when I first entered the company. 

A Direct Line to the Universe.

After that week, I had myself a day that reintroduced me to something that I had been needing for a long time: the ability to listen to the messages of the Universe. Not many people know this, but I've always that guy who waits for signs and shit like that. hell, from 1998 to 2010 my major decision were made by a toss of my lucky coin. But, somewhere down the line, I lost that type of faith. (I even gave the coin away.) But, one weekend with the boys and here I am, once again believing in the great design.

It started when I, stuck in a world of creative blockage, decided to go out and watch the Avengers again with whoever replied first. It turned out to be The Big Man. So, off we went to the nearest mall to geek out. However, the universe had other plans. We were given  a flat tire, which required the assistance of the always eager to help Tapa King. He arrived, he failed to solve the problem, and essentially we had to go back to the Big Man's house. At the precise moment of our arrival came the Critic, fresh from a bike ride and looking for something to do. While yes, it's not really hard to get these three together for a drink, but one has to consider how if a single variable from that afternoon changed, even with something as elementary as a minute's delay, the four of us, the remnants of a once great time, would not be together on that day. The Universe was telling us something, and only a foolish man ignores the universe.

I'd rather not get into the details of what turned out to be a fairly epic night, but the highlights include a one on one conversation with the Critic and his recent lovelorn drama and our respective death wishes, me and the Tapa King finally seeing eye to eye on something, a trip to Tagaytay (which led to another week of colds that was totally worth it) and the realization that yes, it is time for me to start listening to fate again. Oh, and there was drinking. Lots of it. Not enough for m to break my "sobriety-at-30" pledge, but still. It was a day, and a night, and even a morning after, worthy to be included in the annals of legendary weekend nights. It's nowhere near the top of the list, but still, I rarely crack the list these days.

Never did I expect that I would credit an amazing Saturday night to both the Critic and the Tapa King. First time for everything I guess.

Me, My Thoughts and I.

Like I may have mentioned, riding top speed on the bed of the Big Man's pick up truck on the way to Tagaytay on a rainy night as the Tapa King and I discuss things of a specifically personal nature. So, I was stuck at home for another week. It was during this week that I truly decided to dwell upon my thoughts in the middle of attempting to write my second movie.

During this rather reflective week, various thoughts crossed my rather weary mind. Here are some of the more prevalent thoughts: 

I really love and miss iiving alone.

I need a job with health insurance. Seriously.

Almonds.

Facebook isn't so bad.

There are way too many movies I haven't seen.

The latter Transformers movies really are as bad as I remember them.

The phrase "blowing your nose" is a little odd.

I have no idea what the fuck going to do next. (It bears repeating.)

It's good to only have first world problems for a change.

As you can see, it has been a really productive week for me. 

A Sign of Things To Come With The Boys.

For the second straight weekend, me and the boys have decided to spend the night together. There was no push from serendipity this time, as we were all somewhat determined to go and get a drink on during an uneventful Sunday night to end a somewhat eventful week. The Critic finally quit his job. I am, at the time, have made up my mind on my own employment. The BIg Man got demoted (though I haven't had the opportunity to find out why). The Tapa King also was on the job hunt.

Because of all of that, all four of us were broke. I grew up reading Captain America and Batman comics. If those two characters taught me anything, it's that there is always a way. With only 100 pesos to buy enough booze to satisfy four men whose appetite for alcohol surpasses Olympian standards (at some point or another), it seemed like an impossible task. But… we did it. With a little resourcefulness, the right attitude, and knowing the right people to summon, me and my boys spent the night laughing. It was something we all needed it seemed, and I think it's we'll be needing reasons to laugh for the upcoming months.

Still, I think this was what's missing. I think this was the thing I was bitching about the least time I wrote here. Back then, even during my darkest days, I always claimed there was something I could always count on: my weekends. No matter how good or bad the week might be, fate always steps in and ensures I end it right. Hopefully, regardless of what I decide to do, what we have started here (or restarted) continues, in spite of seeming obstacles.

Needing Something Static

I'm one of those people who believe that the entire world can change in a day. That's why I've always been conscious about how time is spent; one mismanaged second and everything can come crashing down, despite the best of plans and intentions. But, there are always incidents and circumstances that's out of one's control, so one can only try one's best to keep a grip on everything.

The past week has been what one can describe as a game changer. A paradigm shift. A reshuffling of the familiar to pave the way for uncertainty. Right now, I'm not exactly sure where I stand, or where I want to stand.

Midweek Drinking, Just Like The Old Days.

I don't know if I've mentioned this in the past, but my work at the Think Tank has a tendency to dry up on a seasonal basis. It contributes to not just my consistent lack of finances, but also my tremendous amount of free time. You know the age old dilemma about money and time. Still, I try to survive (barely) with that.

Such a dry spell was the case on a Tuesday night, so I end up the way I usually end up during such scenarios: at the Big Man's, getting a drink on. It was loud, it was fun, it was nice. Even the Tapa King's presence added to what was, in my mind, an ideal way to spend the night: a minor buzz, a lively conversation that involved plans of future movies, personal stuff and corporate espionage, and most importantly, everything was real. No guards, no pretenses, none of the usual shit I've been exposed to for the past few months. 

It definitely was a nice alternative to earning money that day.

Out With The Boys, Unfortunately Like The Old Days.

A couple of days later, the girlfriend went to Singapore in the morning. At a loss for company or anything to do, (plus I sorta overslept and missed doing stand up as well as meet up with my "handler") I went on to hang out with The HUman Torch, The Big Man and a couple of their fellow network cult people or whatever for some drinking in a place of ill repute.

When you're sober, things seem a lot less fun. Even more when you're at a certain age. So there I was, old and sober, and I spent a night in near silence observing the follies of the various people from other tables. Once that whole experience was over, I needed something more, so, The Human torch, The Big Man and I continued with a few more drinks at the guy's house once more. And that was fun.

Something happened, I think, a some point in the recent past. Something changed. I'm pretty sure it wasn't sudden, but it crept quietly enough for me to only notice it once the effects have come to be. And one of those effects were predominantly felt that night in that bar: boredom. 1998 me would be smirking in sarcastic amusement by now. 

Something else happened that day, but that I'll discuss some other time.

The Curve Ball.

I spent Saturday bothered by my lack of responsiveness to the previous night's festivities, and the following day, Sunday, was spent with the Scoobies. For days, I've been seeing my beloved Scoobies lamenting shit online. Of course, I dismissed it as something that didn't particularly involve me.

So I showed up at Marvi's house, once again remarkably late due to another bout of oversleeping, when I found the news out. Nikki has been accepted for a job in Singapore, and she was going to leave the morning after, thus, making it the last night the Scoobies and I are "complete". 

I've drank with a lot of people, in a lot of varying circumstances, in my life. It's rare that I get to drink with someone, especially someone that close to me, on the cusp of undergoing a tremendous change. It was… emotionally intense. We laughed, took pictures, gossiped about people a bit, listened to local 90s music, you know, the usual stuff that we did when we're together. There was the quiet satisfaction that only the feeling of utter contentment in the company you keep can only provide. I mean, this is Nikki, the last girl I ever pursued in college. One of the only five women I brought into my Fortress after she was too drunk to go home from Marbles. The only other member of the Scoobies who was legally single and childless. The one who I brought to assess one of the girls I was about to jump into a relationship with. The one who had me miss work and risk being fired at a time when I was desperate to keep a job because her heart was broken. She's loud. She's demanding. She's one of ours. And she's leaving. And yeah, she's going to come back, at least she claims she will, but there's a lot of difference from knowing that we can call her up to meet any time, and having to wait months.

Around four AM, we had to say our goodbyes. People were fighting back tears, and I was cracking jokes, because, hey, we all had our ways of dealing. When she left, Shelly, Marvi and I just sat there, talking about her. Things are definitely not going to be the same. 

Looking back a bit though, I can't help but think that this year has been a landmark year for the Scoobies. Shelly's single and seemingly happy. Nikki's off to Singapore chasing after the future. Marvi has left her job of six (?) years for a new life down in Alabang. And me, with the movie/s and the writing for TV and the new girlfriend thing.

We've all come a long way. Let's just try and stay together despite all that. Please.

Where I Stand Now.

This whole post seems a little too dramatic and even a little whiny. Point is, I'm older now, and things have changed. There have been developments (some I'm not at liberty to discuss yet) that I'm going to be dealing with in the time to come. I might withdraw a bit, limiting my interaction to a selected number of individuals. I've got a lot of things to do, a lot of moves to make. I'm being vague, yes, but things are happening, and not all of it's to my liking. I feel like I lost something that I'd like to figure out what exactly, and how to regain it. In advance, I'm apologizing to people I might be snubbing, and people I'd be bothering. I'm fine, I'm not unhappy. But there are certain elements missing, and I don't think I can fully function the way I usually do until they're found.

"I find it hard to believe

That all the pain that we are feeling
Has some meaning in this world
It's so hard to believe
That everything you see is different
From the things that you've been told
I wanted life to be this way
Just a little bit of love could mean so much
O please don't take it all away
But with you heaven is still close enough to touch
I find it hard to believe
That someone up there is waiting
With arms open wide and smiling
It's so hard to believe
When someone told me that your suffering
Is what you get for living
I wanted life to be this way
Just a little bit of love could mean so much
O please don't take it all away
But with you heaven is still close enough to touch
Because your love is still the only thing
That matters in this world
The only thing I can believe..." - The eraserheads, "Hard to Believe"

Singing in the Upswing

I think I may have gone on this rant before, but I really don't like receiving advice. it's not pride, you know. Not a misconception that I don't need advice, because I do. Everyone does. But the thing is, I'd rather go to subject-matter experts for opinions and advice, rather than the first dude who asks about my comings and goings. Basically, if I needed advice on how to make a chair, I'd ask a carpenter. I won't heed relationship advice from people who've had nothing but crappy relationships. I won't heed time management advice from people who've never had a real need to manage time. I won't heed creative suggestions from people whose creativity is limited to "interesting" haircuts and "unorthodox" fashion decisions. Unless I directly ask you for your opinion, please... don't burden yourself with trying to come up with something that would make you sound knowledgeable. I don't want you getting hurt.

Why am I starting off this post with a rant? Because I'm in a fucking good mood, and as I've learned during all these months of sobriety, I apparently like being a whiny bitch when it comes to stupid people. Don't worry, I'm sure karma or providence or whatever's going to strike me down at some point, and I'd actually welcome it. 

Finally, things seem to be slowing down almost to the point that I can actual start breathing freely. Almost. Movie's done, sorta, and I will be talking about that later. There's a new thing for me to devote my attention to; a really huge, important thing. I finally got to watch The Avengers, and seeing my childhood heroes get that much attention just perks me up. Basically, I sense a wave of change in the air, which isn't necessarily good, but it may be what I need.

Best Feet Forward.

I remember back in the day when I had an idiot friend who put so much stock in Murphy's Law that he basically turned it into an excuse whenever he fucks up because of his own innate stupidity. Well, I got a big dose of Murphy anal raping me a couple of weeks after the movie supposedly wrapped. While transferring, for some reason, one of the tapes got erased, taking with it 20 to 30 minutes of exposition. It's the ultimate nightmare scenario for anyone practicing in the industry.

As I have alluded to in my last post, I was not happy with the results of the movie. I did it for the wrong reasons and I did it with the wrong attitude. When the tape got messed up, I was initially pissed, but more than anything I saw an opportunity to at least do something right with it. So, with Jo F'n Regis at my side, we went out and did what we do best; a last minute save with nothing but our innate bullshit wielding skills. I remember how a few months ago, when he had put up a seminar that ended in somewhat of a complication, he had me prepare something on the fly. This is getting to be a really bad habit. 

The movie is still a shitty mess, but the difference is, now it's my shitty mess. Unlike the original shoot, I actually had fun. We managed to shoot enough material to save the movie. (It didn't save it from the utter depths of low quality, but hell, it's done and it will be shown. It's all that matters.)

Those two days that Jo and I went truly indy got me raring for the possibility of future projects. I don't know if there would be, but I wouldn't mind if there was.   

The Sordid State of The Think Tank.

Things at the Think Tank have become… personally troublesome. While I don't think the people currently handling the group are doing anything technically wrong (office drama notwithstanding), the Think Tank has become so that everything I loved about working there, nearly every reason I had that made me happy enough to stay for an entire year, seem to have vanished. Again, the people who currently have taken the reins are not doing anything technically wrong. I should know, given my experience with people who had no business leading anyone but yet seem to find themselves in such positions. I'm just starting to think this whole thing isn't for me anymore. I like having a job of course, but what used to be my ideal place of employment is slowly being altered into what i see as just one huge pissing contest. 

I miss the Boss.

Part of the Gang.

Amidst all of the craziness of the movie and the office, I received a phone call that pretty much took away the mental burdens of each of my aforementioned occupations. Last year, I and a few other stand up comics auditioned for this TV network. I think I wrote about it. We got in, and each were assigned to write for a different show. I got assigned to do this show that pretty much heralded the type of comedy I didn't like to do. I refused. Instead, I performed on that show once, and never expected to work with the network in any capacity.

A year later, I got a phone call from the director of hands down, the best comedy show in local TV for more than a decade and he told me he was in need of a writer. Apparently, I was that writer. A year ago, I had no qualms of letting the opportunity go for that other show. This time around, however, well, even someone like me would have a hard time saying no to the opportunity to be a part of the show that has kept me laughing since I was in high school. I don't care if they called out of the blue and shat on my beloved schedule.I traveled north with both a smile on my face and a nagging thought at the back of my head that kept telling me hat someone was pranking me. Once I got to the studio, I found out that it was legit.

As of this writing, I have only been to the creative meetings for two weeks, withe each meeting more and more satisfying. Sitting in that room, not just with fellow comedians, but two of the guys that made "Alien!" sound like the funniest thing ever, was nothing but a sheer honor. And people who know me know that I'm not the type who gets starstruck. I've gotten accustomed to be around celebrities and other "named" people ever since I graduated. But of course, this was different. And knowing that I was able to make these people laugh made me wet myself.

I don't say this often, but this gig is a dream come true. This is not just another paycheck for me. Much like Hong Kong, I'm going to cherish every second of this. Who cares if I'm doing softcore movies with nearly non-existent budgets for pervs who seem to not have discovered internet smut when I also happen to be providing material for the country's unofficial Friday night habit?

Last Remaining Good Nights.

Another good thing about the past couple of weeks was that there were a couple of nights wherein I actually spent some time with my boys. From The Critic (who's apparently in love) and I taking a little trip of the mind before the Big Man showed up for an actual trip further down south, to a huge drinking session that I put together out of sheer boredom, it was nice to be reminded of how good things could be, and how good things actually were.

I understand things are never going to be the way that they were. Back before Ol' Football head left the country, things have really taken a turn towards the less ideal. In my opinion, his departure was always been the turning point. His absence, the way I see it, contributed to The Critic basically giving up on everything once his wife left him, The Big Man getting swayed into the worldly, and I guess my own decision to loosen my grip back in 2009.

See, I'm an angry person. I wasn't always an angry person, but once I became an angry person I never stopped being an angry person. Back in the day, hanging out with my boys helped channel that anger. But, like with everything else, things change. Not everyone does things simply for the joy of doing them anymore. A lot of people in my life, not just with my friends down south, have prioritized fulfilling  their self image, trying to live up to a definition that places them in a favorable light, instead of just living. When I was younger, shit like that didn't matter. These days, it's all everyone talks about.

These nights are few, and with the way things are going, two of the last. With the new beginnings I seem to be heading into, and these specific aspects of my life seemingly ending, I think it's time everything undergoes some well needed redefinition. Myself included, of course.  

Right now, I'm in a good relationship, I'm living out a few dreams, and while things are far from perfect, I do certainly notice the upswing. For whatever's missing, I'm sure I'll find it, whether it's my boys realizing certain things, or be it with new people, it matters little. I'm not angry anymore, for one. At least, not as angry as I used to be, when I was with people who gave me legitimate reasons to be angry. I think that's a start.

"I've got a lotta things to do tonight

I'm so sick of making lists 
Of things I'll never finish
I've lived here for the last 12 years 
Since early 1995 all my shit has been in boxes 
But if I had a little more time to kill
I'd settle every little stupid thing
Yeah you'd think that I would

But I'm too tired to go to sleep tonight
And I'm too weak to follow dreams tonight
For the first time in a long time I can say
That I want to try to get better and 
Overcome each moment 
In my own way

I wonder if I'll ever lose my mind
I tried hard for awhile
But then I kind of gave up
Winter is killer when the sun goes down
I'm really not as stubborn as I seem
Said the knuckle to the concrete

And I'm too weak to follow dreams tonight
For the first time in a long time I can say
That I want to try to get better and 
Overcome each moment 
In my own way

I'm not saying that I'm giving up
I'm just trying not to think 
As much as I used to
Cause never is a lonely little messed up word
Maybe I'll get it right some day
For the first time in a long time I can say
That I want to try
I feel helpless for the most part
But I'm learning to open my eyes
And the sad truth of the matter is 
I'll never get over it
But I'm gonna try
To get better and overcome each moment
In my own way

I sure want to get back on track
And I'll do whatever it takes
Even if it kills me " - Motion City Soundtrack, "Even If It Kills Me"

Smelling Like Smoke

It's been a month or so since I've been in the mood to blog, but everything's a tad heavy now and I need to unload some baggage. Those who know me know that I work mostly alone, and those who have worked with me on certain projects know that I have a preference to take on the bulk of the work. It's not exactly a simple task when it comes to making a movie, but that's how I like it.

The ironic thing about all of this riff raff is that when I turned 30, I made the conscious decision to lower the volume on the normally loud life that I live. The plan was I do my work at the Think Tank, go home, do stand up whenever the need to feed my delusions of talent and probably try and get back to teaching. You know… quiet, boring, peaceful, that sorta shit. What happened was the exact opposite of all that I planned for.

Not that I'm complaining. My heart just isn't in this whole hullabaloo anymore. But, shit's here, shit's on, and we try our best to deal.

Development and Preproduction.

The weeks leading up to the shoot have been mostly me going bak and forth from the office to Manila and back again (and from time to time to Laguna to accompany the girlfriend home), all the while dealing with the usual office drama that's more tiring than work. Aside from the bills and the debts, I don't really feel motivated to be all I can be in the Think Tank, largely because I see a guy who's been fucking things up and pretty much getting away with it. (Then again, he was just waiting to get shitcanned, but still.)

On the movie side of things, I have a cast that's less than exemplary (which I was told I had to share with another director who's shooting a different movie at the same fucking time I was), and assembling my crew of misfits that, to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't have gotten if I had a choice. It's not a comment of my perception of their ability, it's an exhibition of how little I'm looking forward to this project that I had to surround myself with people that could make this entire experience somewhat enjoyable.

To make matters worse, when I was initially taken to the location, which was some rinky dink resort smack dab in the middle of nowhere, I realized that it didn't fit my script. So, for the sake of getting things done, I went and just rewrote the damn thing.

Yup, things were far from looking up.

Production.

The week of the shoot started out in a far from stellar way. I was asked for a "one on one" at the Think Tank to discuss my far from impressive performance at work (read: my usual performance at work). So there I sat, being told how to manage my time, and all I could think about was how discussions like this was never necessary when the old boss was around. Don't get me wrong, I do respect the new management, but one of the reasons I was able to stay at the Think Tank for a year now, and I guess I've gotten used to a specific way things are done. The old boss would have just sent me an email, and that's all it would have taken.

When it was time to shoot, I knew beforehand that I was in for a rough time. I apparently had no fucking idea. Two days of non-stop adrenaline that left my body aching, my mind a mush and all I wanted was that at the end of the two day piss-fest was a nice couple of hours in the bar. What I got was a couple of hours driving around and then falling asleep in the bar.

Still, props to everyone who helped out, both within my own crew and out.

Post-production.

I don't want to get into the details on how the days after the shoot felt as if Murphy's Law was designed specifically to fuck with me since I've been pretty much a whiny prick all throughout this post. The movie is still a work in progress. (A shitty one at that.) While I've been working round the clock to balance everything, I've been fortunate enough to be graced by the presence of some really valued members of my circle. The Salesman and the rest of my people from San Mig. The Girl Who Saved My Life. The ever-loving Scoobies who made Easter Sunday bearable. The girlfriend. My crew. Even a couple of cast members. All of whom managed to make all of this shit bearable.

I still have no plans regarding future movies, though my crew seems to be amped up for it. I don't know if I want to stay at the Think Tank, though the Breakfast Club seems to be having as much fun as ever (particularly after the departure of one bad apple). I don't know what I want, but I do know that it's not exactly this. I'm not this guy anymore, or at the very least, I don't want to be. I'm retired, or I'm supposed to be.

There's something missing here. Something to provide a sense of fulfillment that would allow me to deal with the noise, the people, the entire emptiness of this. When I find it, that one thing that I know is pure and valuable, then I can go to war again. Be that guy again.

For now, I'll edit my shitty movie and maybe even head to the office to do my shitty markups and smile, hoping at least one other person sees how blatantly asinine all of this is. I feel alone.

"Skin against skin blood and bone

You're all by yourself but you're not alone
You wanted in now you're here
Driven by hate
consumed by fear
Let the bodies hit the floor" - Drowning Pool, "Bodies"