The Product of 18 Hour Days

You know what I hate? "Pretend Pacifists". There are people who are insistent on taking the peaceful, understanding route regardless of the facts presented in front of them. Worse yet, they insist that others take that route. These generic well-wishers who think that the world is one big cartoon where everyone sings songs and hugs everyone without recognizing the very basic possibility that people are flawed and have the tendency to hurt you just to steal your shit, fuck whoever your fucking, drive your car, or maybe even do it just for the sheer hell of it. (I'm not saying that that's true for everyone, but to disregard the possibility is just naive.)

Take this one colleague of mine. A few days ago, I was bitching to said colleague about how I trusted someone with a project that was really important to me and that person promised to help me out. But then, essentially, not only did the project got neglected, but the person also made light of the very personal reasons behind me wanting to pursue that project, pretty much pissing on me, my wants and my peace of mind. To make matters worse, this person met up with me to "smooth things over", but instead just let me talk for minutes and didn't reply. Not even a face to face apology was offered. This person then vanishes for weeks, only to message me to "congratulate" me for getting into this year's Hong Kong thing. That was a slap in the face, particularly since the act once again made light of the offenses committed. It was one of the most presumptuous, arrogant things people I personally know have done to me. And I'm not even ranting about that person now. Who I'm complaining about is the person I talked to about this. After hearing my tale, the dude was all "let it go", "life goes on", "take the high road" and a shitload of other cliches that essentially mean that I should let it slide because I should be happy about the good things in my life.

Holy fucking shit.

One, whether or not the good things in my life happened, this shitty ordeal still occurred. One has nothing to do with the other. It's like saying I shouldn't be stressed out because of bad traffic since I had pancakes for breakfast. It's illogical. No, It's fucking stupid. Two, it's really easy to tell people to let something go when they're not the offended party. I especially like it how the person who told me to keep a cooler head about the whole incident is the same person who lost his shit just because 7-11 ran out of Magnums one time. I have every right to get pissed, and I wanted to let out a healthy rant to relieve me of some emotional burdens. But no, I had to get a lecture from Johnny Wonderland, a person who farts cupcakes and believes that smiles can cure cancer. Dick.

Let's be real, okay? Bad things happen, people do shitty things that would piss you off, it's all real. Don't get on a nice, fake Zen-kick just because you think it'd make you look like a good guy. I may be vindictive, cynical, and usually enraged, but that doesn't make me wrong. Rant over.    

A Unexpected Reunion.

Before I went to my boring-beyond-words job one Monday, I received a phone call from an old friend. The night before, I received a text message from the spouse of that friend. What resulted was an impromptu get together with people who I used to tear up bars with on a weekly basis. I was the best man for their wedding. We haven't hung out in a year or so, and we only did briefly on that day because of certain issues. We really should work on this, shouldn't we? I mean, yeah, it's nice to know that our little group was still the couple's go to group when the Mister and Missus aren't exactly walking on sunshine, but still.

It did remind me of a particular night back in '05 when I had to meet the couple on the same night in two separate bars cause they had an incident. I was still in MTV, doing timeless when I got a call from the Missus, and I had to run to the Grill, to talk her down, and then I had to go to Marbles to comfort the Mister. Good times.

The Weekend with Marvi and The Big Man.

I didn't know that the whole couple's thing would be the theme of that particular week, but then the weekend presented me with two other experiences with married people that are both kinda interesting if viewed from a particular point of view. Saturday night, I was out with the Big Man for another night of drinking and whatnot. He and his wife weren't having problems, but the whole general set up of their relationship makes me think some times about why one bothers to commit in a long term thing like that. Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking their obviously imperfect relationship, since I'm not really an authority on how good marriages should go. It's just that, after years of watching what they've gone through, from the moment their relationship started, (I think I was literally there when the whole thing began, but I'm not sure.) and what they're dealing with now, I don't know. It all just seems tiring, and not really worth it. I'm guessing if I was in either one's position, I'd have gotten up and left long ago.

We just drank and did our usual bit, and I went home in the morning with the full intention of waking up and heading to the Think Tank to do some work. That didn't happen, so I just went to Marvi's new house, conveniently located just a few minutes away from my place. Marvi and her husband, Kokoy, had moved out shortly after the huge flood that happened weeks ago. Kokoy had some problems with her family, and really wanted a place of their own. Not surprisingly, Marvi went with her man. That Sunday night, she and I (Kokoy couldn't get up from bed after moving) drank until the wee hours, just talking about stuff. It's rare that I get one on one time with any of the Scoobies, and my night with Marvi was alright. We talked about my relationship briefly, talked about hers at length, and the people who are mutually in our lives.

It was an interesting contrast, spending time looking at the two marriages I've known the longest. While unlike the Big Man's relationship, I wasn't there for Marvi when she first met her man, but I was there during the time she got pregnant and began perhaps the most trying time of their lives. I've seen both couples survive the worst. I've seen both endure. I've seen both couple's imperfections, and being the egotistical prick that I am, looked at my own romantic past and present and realized that, no matter how well intentioned, me going through what I go through alone may not be a good thing. Basically, I had a lot of thinking done on that weekend, and the days that followed.

A Night With The Ill-Repute.

I had another drinking session at home with the BIg Man and the Tapa King, which led to a night out where we drank at some old dude's house with a couple of girls from bars of less than noble clientele. The Big Man had a new fling on his mind, and as I have made clear over the past several months, what he does in his personal life isn't really my place to judge. What happened was, people got drunk, people made a scene, people had fun. I guess that's all that matters. I did have to talk down this drunk girl in order to make for a clean exit. There was an amusing moment wherein the Big Man had to tell me to stop and let him have a go at resolving the situation, since I guess I was stealing some of his thunder. I get that, it was his thing, and he had to look like the one in control, and the fact that he was honest about it was good enough for me. At least everything we talked about in the gas station months ago made a difference.

The Tapa King was his usual self, which isn't really a good thing. In fact, he's become quite the issue as of late. His tendencies to grandstand while being completely oblivious to where he actually stands as an individual in our group has somehow become an unsettling thing for everyone. Everyone has had some form of issue with him, but the one thing that it all boils down to is entitlement. I can't speak for the rest of the guys, but for me, it's getting tiring hearing a guy who hasn't had a job, a girlfriend, or anything resembling personal or professional progression in God knows how long lecture me, Jonic, The Critic, and The Big Man about how he's had it rough, about how to get a girl, about how to basically live life, and then expect people to buy him food and drink.

It's all about knowing your role in every group dynamic. Back in the day, my role in the Old Gang was to be the guy who had to make people laugh and drink and generally have fun while everyone else did their thing. I was the guy who came up with the plans. A lot of those plans resulted in us getting in trouble, the Big man getting in hot water to his wife/girlfriend, the Little Prince missing school and basically just general mayhem with minimal damage. These days, with the addition of the Tapa King and the change in perspective with me and the Big Man, I've had to (pardon the ultra-geeky reference) switch disciplines from Rogue to Paladin for most of the time. The Tapa King's role, the way I see it, is the group's blunt instrument. He's the muscle, the Big Man's the bankroll, I'm usually the mouth, while the Critic… well, he's the lonely guy who sits in his apartment and shows up from time to time. (And… zing.)

Whether or not my assessment is accurate, the point being is that the Tapa King has been upsetting the status quo, and if a paradigm shift is in order, then it will only come through confrontation, which I will get to in a bit.

Triumph in Simple Things.

My preparation for the contest has been slow and somewhat counter-productive. True, I don't feel the same excitement as I did last year. After the initial lows and highs of being rejected then accepted, I once again fell into that mindset of apathy. I'm pretty sure it has a lot to do with the stress I've been going through, and of course, the anxiety, which has come back in full force since July I think. (I don't write about it for the same reason I don't write about the sunrise. It's a given.)

I've been feeling detached again, especially with the whole dealing with everything alone thing. There was only one event that made me feel alive the past couple of weeks, and it came form something as mundane as booking my flight. See, I got me one of those discounted rates, being a cheap, broke bastard and all, and when I booked that flight,it was apparently one of those things that I had to pay for on the same day or else I lose the thing. So from Makati I went home, took the money I had, went back to Makati and lo and behold, all of the banks and payment centers weren't really functioning. It was one of things wherein you feel that the universe was testing me, what with the banks and other centers either going offline are had really weird cut off times. I was moving from one place to the next with a quickness and sense of urgency that I haven't displayed all year, not in the Think Tank, not with the movie and certainly not in the job.

In the end, I managed to get it done right in the nick of time, and a weird sense of accomplishment washed over me as I sat down in the food court at Landmark. I was, at the briefest of instances, happy. Then I looked around and realized where I was. This was the same food court we used to have lunch in everyday back in '98, when I was a college freshman. Since then, I used that food court as one of my hiding places when I wanted to be alone, when serious thinking had to be done. Then it hit me, how I was able to feel alive only when I manage to get something done. That's how I live now, task to task, project to project, and when it's done, I immediately look for the next thing to conquer. I realized then, that that was not how a person should live. If I continue on this path, I would just end up burning out with nothing truly significant to show for it.

I think I sat there for two full hours just staring into space.

There Goes Another Weekend.

Another weekend came, and this is where the whole thing with the Tapa King came to a head. Jonic invited us over to celebrate his own professional triumph. I had a shitload of things I had to either work out or numb with alcohol. I don't know if the Big Man was carrying shit he had to release, but he went along. The Tapa King, well, he wasn't invited. Not really at least.

For weeks, Jonic has been trying to set up a night out with the guys to celebrate a new job. For weeks, he has also been complaining about the King's behavior. The Big Man and the Critic have also been vocal about not really wanting the dude's company. I think I was the latest to hop on that bandwagon, but yeah, my thick skin has been worn out as well.

So on a night wherein we went into some faraway bar in Laguna (a bar that had branches in both Makati, Malate and Las Pinas, but no, we had to go to Laguna), we drank a whole lot of booze, experienced weird car troubles and met some really interesting albeit not very memorable people, the topic of the night was the exclusion of the Tapa King. Technically, he was invited, but when plans changed, he wasn't informed. Why? Because no one wants to hang out with him. The Critic, who wasn't there, has said that he doesn't want him around because he couldn't unload his usual rantings without the King trying to interject. Jonic, in my opinion, didn't want his moment sullied by either the guy's tendency for melodrama, or his penchant for attention seeking. The BIg Man, I think, was just too tired of the guy's shit, and me, well, I had not only Hong Kong, but my entire future in mind, and I really didn't want a hassle.

So, what should have been a great night was just a good one, and hopefully, this is the last night that's lessened in value simply because of one guy. And the motherfucker wasn't even there.

The Now and Again.

The past two weeks, when I should have been focusing on Hong Kong, I found myself wondering about where I'm headed specifically. Thing's need to change if I'm to keep my sanity for another full year. After the conversations with everyone I've had (though I'm certain none of them knew that our talks were used to assess my own current situation), I made up my mind. (From the time being, at least.)

I haven't written about it directly in any of my posts, but my relationship has been on the outs for quite some time now. It's not entirely a fault of hers, I'm not exactly an easy guy to get. To her credit she did try to understand that I don't always have things "together", but at some point in our relationship, she didn't want to see that side of me that's made life difficult for anyone I've shared it with, and that's something I couldn't shake. In turn, I've opted to deal with everything on my plate alone, without anyone I could, at least, talk to, which made things worse.

I'm angry, and have been angry for months. Not towards anyone in particular, but it has been directed at everyone at some points over the past few months. So, while I didn't and still don't want to take certain actions, I did, because the me that was me from 2009 has started creeping back in, and that's the last thing I want or need.

I'm walking away. From everything, I guess. No, from most things. Yes, my relationship is over. I am once again single, for nth time in my adult life. I've also decided to stop writing for TV, at least for now. I told them I needed to focus on Hong Kong, and that I needed a month off. Knowing what I know about the industry, I won't have a job waiting for me at the end of the month. If I am wrong and if I did come back to writing for a show that can't even make me laugh these days, I'd probably just stick around for the paycheck.

Hong Kong, the contest, sad to say, has become somewhat irrelevant. Right now, I'm looking at two tasks to finish after the competition, regardless of what happens. There's one more movie that I'll make for the family business, and then that Coffeehouse project I've been wanting to do all year. Once those two projects are done, I'm thinking about relocating. In six months or so, I aim to be living or working in Hong Kong, or maybe even Baguio, or anywhere else that's far away. At least, that's the plan, and plans do change. Fact is, I've done everything there is to do around here, from both a professional and personal standpoint. Maybe a move would fix what task after task couldn't.

As for the competition, well, I'm still going to give it my best shot, but in a different way. I started writing jokes, which I think are funny, but I figured I should change that as well. I'm being given 7 minutes to express myself on a captive audience, and I'll take it. For the first time in my life, I plan to be completely honest. No masks or roles. Whether they think it's funny or not, it's up to them.

Point is, this time next year, I plan to be gone. From October until my move, I'll be tying up loose ends. This sitcom's going to be on its final season.

At The End of the Day

You know what I hate? People who shove their lifestyles down everyone's throats. Everywhere I turn there's always somebody who promoting their way of life, whether it's for religion, health or wellness, business, or whatever it is that they think is the proper way to live.

A week or so ago, I met these people who kept urging me to join their church. They weren't even subtle about it. They talked about how I could turn my life around and all that shit. Months ago, I was also approached by some guy and talked about his training program and shit like that, emphasizing how good he felt and stuff.

Now, I don't care about the choices people make, especially since most of those choices don't directly affect me, but for the love of all that's sane, do I really have to hear about it? No, I do not care about the type of diet you have. No, I do not wish to know how you've been saved by the Holy Ghost. No, I do not wish to know how you've applied some management philosophy you've read in passing to improve your performance for your dead end job. No. You can post that shit online but, unless I ask, do not come up to me and try to get me to join your "revolution". That's what Facebook is for.

I don't recruit people into reading comics, watching wrestling, playing video games and basically eating like a nine year old. This is how I roll, and I respect how you roll. Let's keep it at that. Rant over.

Long Overdue Night Out.

I've been bugging the guys to go out for a long time now. With the amount of stress I go through, I thought hitting the bars a little more regularly would be good for me. Plus, for some reason the boys don't really go out much, contributing to some of their lamer tendencies. Finally, the BIg Man and his wife, along with the surprising presence of the Tapa King (he was not supposed to be there, especially since he's been getting under everyone's nerves as of late) and we went to this unsuspecting bar by the highway. It was a good time, of course. There was singing, lots of drinking, a dude who got in a fight with his wife in the middle of the highway (not the Big Couple) and more of us subtly insulting the Tapa King's intelligence.

That was indeed a great night out, and I think we've found the bar that suits all of our needs. I'm a fan of the bad food and cold booze and loud music that all bars have to offer, and, as it turns out, the waitresses also function as GROs, giving the rest of the guys a reason to drink there.

See? Middle ground isn't that hard to find sometimes.

Crash.

Someone close to the Big Man and I got in an unfortunate accident wherein, while riding her motorcycle, drunk as drunk can be, she crashed and nearly had her face torn off and stuff. (The details are vague, and I really didn't want to find out more.)

We visited her in the ER of PGH, a hospital me and the guys have had some history with, and the whole thing just really bothered me. There was of course the incredible amount of misery in the air that's common in ERs and more so in that particular hospital. There's also the thought that the accident could have happened to any one of us. Seeing her all banged up, at the risk of sounding selfish, made me think about all those times me and the guys would travel completely shitfaced and out of it. I think of how the Critic usually eggs the BIg Man to drive insanely fast for no apparent reason, and when the Gadgeteer and I nearly fell off the road from the mountains in Tagaytay. I kept thinking about what would have happened if, in any one of those circumstances, things went wrong. Where would we be today?

Another predominant thought that came to my mind is that the girl was younger than us. We've been in a bunch of situations wherein people younger than us not just go through similar accidents but also died. There's Love's kid, and there's Kevin, from my Dungeons and Dragons party to name a couple. It's just weird that while we, a group of old fucking idiots, remain relatively unscathed.

And of course, there's the compassion I feel for the girl in question. A sewed up face, most teeth missing, who knows what kinds of internal injuries she got and of course the trauma from the entire experience, it goes without saying that she's facing a tough several months. Even years. And this girl, while not being a saint, has always been good to me. I don't know how she is with others, but she's been cool to me ever since we met back in the early 2000s. She always made me feel important, which is something I think she has a knack for doing. (I remember that old dude that she was totally putting over a year ago or so.) Not being able to help her feel sucky.

The Audition Video.

The day after the hospital visit, I shot my audition video for the Hong Kong competition, the deadline for which was just three days away. The finished product of the video was something that felt less sucky, in my opinion.

A Client Meeting, An Anniversary, and a Reunion.

Wednesday came, and as I've gotten used to by now, Wednesday is the day I go and pretend to know what makes the masses laugh in the weekly creative meeting for the TV show I am helping to destroy. Of course, just as I've gotten accustomed to the way things are, the Network threw me a curveball and included me in a client meeting in the morning. So there I was, at 9 in the fucking morning, with less then four hours of sleep from my previous unproductive night at the Think Tank (essays are scarce), trying my best to impress the corporate bigwigs of this new coffee product that's out in the market by talking as little as possible. (I've learned that the best way to deal with "important" people is to shut the hell up as much as possible while the grown ups are talking.)

After that awkward experience (I don't really know even today if I'm supposed to feel honored that they chose me for the meeting or cranky because I think they tapped me cause everyone else was busy.), it was off to the network for the actual creative meeting. The show is about to put out a 17th anniversary episode, and of course, we newbies got chewed out. Don't get me wrong, I'm still happy to be writing for the show. It's just that with every meeting, I remember more and more why I left the biz several years ago. Fuck it. At least I still get to listen in on Pete's genius once a week.

Once the meeting was over, I was obviously tired, but I had hours to kill before I could show up at the full time job, so I decided to follow up on my contingency plan if Hong Kong doesn't follow through. So, I met up with my long lost "nephew" in Makati. We talked over a couple of drinks and the prospect of working on this project of ours really excited me. He even threw me a few good ideas, and yeah, I'm pumped to get the Coffeehouse up and running.

All in all, I think I'm doing something right career-wise. It's going to be a while before I completely enjoy it though. While I'm not a hundred percent happy about what I do a hundred percent of the time,I always feel fulfilled, and at the end of the day, that's a hundred percent good enough. For now, at least.

Rejected.

Friday night, I went to my full time job, waiting for midnight when the line up for the Hong Kong competition, the single thing I've been looking forward to all year (despite the recent hesitation), was going to be announced. The clock struck midnight, I checked my email and boom. I didn't make the cut. With countless of applications from countries like the US, UK, Japan and others, I was not part of the 30 selected. I was stunned. Not surprised, but stunned.

Regardless of my newly formed reservations about joining, I still sent an application. When I got rejected, I felt things that I needed a couple of days to process, simply because I didn't know exactly how bad I felt and why.

Mourning Period.

I had more than a few drinks with the Big Man over the course of the weekend after my rejection. I figured it out. When I got rejected, I literally felt all the air get sucked out of me. It was because I felt less whole than I usually am. See, last year, I was happy to be picked for the contest simply because of what it symbolized. Getting selected meant that I was among the best in the world at what I did, and that's something that no one could take away from me and that very few people can claim. The knowledge that I could hang with all these talented people made me feel genuinely proud. It was something that was mine. When I got rejected, a lot of the confidence I had that stemmed from being a part of the competition somehow vanished.

I began to doubt. Even with all my contingency plans, my projects if ever I decide to not go to Hong Kong anyway, felt pointless. After all, I was having doubts about my desire to join the competition, but what I didn't need was doubts towards having the ability to claim my part in the competition. If I were to decide to not join, it was supposed to be because of my choice, not because I wasn't good enough.

The Big Man, as we were drinking on a Monday afternoon (a session that extended into the early hours of Tuesday morning) was uncharacteristically supportive. It's not to say that we're not supportive of each other, we just don't compliment each other verbally. I never really figured out why, but we were never like that. We make objective observations that sometimes come off as compliments, like "you're good at this…" or "this is your strong point…" and shit like that.

He even tried to comfort me as I was saying my piece about not being among the 30 best competitors by saying something like "Maybe you're the 31st. That's why you didn't get in." That statement of his, I remarked with a "that's not it", but in all honesty, I thought "man, what an idiotic thing to say."

The Phone Call.

I woke up on a Monday afternoon, stomach howling because of the ludicrous amount of alcohol that no two men of our age should consume. The Big Man had already left, we drank at my place, and I went about my day. Made myself breakfast, watched Robocop 2, and mentally prepared myself to do some more writing for the TV show, the project and even the new movie I was supposed to make before the year ends.

I received a text message, but I chose to ignore it. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was none other than the guy who put together the competition in Hong Kong. Apparently, one of the contestants had to back out, and I was next in line.

Motherfucker. The Big Man was right. I was the 31st. The guy ended the call by saying "don't back out, okay? I'm going to kick your ass."

So yeah, I'm going to Hong Kong. Not because I'm afraid of getting my ass kicked, though he is Chinese and might know some sweet moves that would knock me on my ass. I'm going to Hong Kong with a killer set and show everyone that they shouldn't have rejected me in the first place.

Wade For It...

You know what I hate? Probably everyone in the service level of the food industry. I know that sounds a bit mean spirited, especially since I'm somewhat friends with a good number of people who have either been in that position or those who have made a career in serving people their food, but bear with me here.

You know how they say you never mess with the people that handle your food? There's a well known fact (and this has been corroborated by the people I mentioned earlier) that if you piss these guys off, you will get, at the very least, some spit in your burger or whatnot. That's the biggest issue I have with those people. As a guy who has worked and learned the intricacies of customer service, it bugs me that these bastards at fast-food joints and restaurants have the sense of entitlement to bully the customer for not reaming them out each and overtime they fuck up. I work hard. I work at least 16 hours a day almost everyday and all I want sometimes is to be able to enjoy nice, properly prepared meal that is served promptly and correctly. If I don't get that simple pleasure, a simple pleasure that I pay for, mind you, I am going to mouth off to the person responsible. Why? Because when I turn in a less than funny script, the director is going to get in my face about it. When I do stand up and I'm not funny, I'm going to get a heckler. If I do an essay markup that's not up to par, I get shit form whoever's doing the particular shit slinging. If I make a movie and it sucks, I get bad reviews. Point is, if I don't do my job properly, I get my ass chewed out. What makes these people exempt? Because they have access to my food? they'll respond to fucking up by accident by fucking up intentionally? What gives them the fucking right?

You don't want customers to get in your face, do your job well. You don't want your mistakes to get rubbed in your face, don't make any. You don't want to be called an idiot, don't be one. It's not the world's fault that you're flipping burgers while your high school buddies are off doing fulfilling things in their lives. Don't take it out on the customer.

Rant over.

Back in Makati.

I started my third and inly full time job. It's a boring online writing thing that gives me something to do every weeknight and something to spend whenever I actually have time to do so. The work is okay, though a bit taxing, and the office is full of, well, normal people. It's not the collection of comedians the TV network gig is, nor the diverse population that is the Think Tank, but I think it's nice. I need a dose of boring. I go in, I do the job, I go home. No drama, no unnecessary bonds made.

What I am amped about is that I'm once again back in Makati. It's been two whole years since I've worked in the city and on my first night back, I felt something that I haven't felt in a long time. I've always been talking about my history in the place, and while it's too much to get into detail, Makati will probably always be my favorite place. Cavite is my home, it's where my roots are planted, but ever since '98, (and in some years before that, some can argue) Makati has played a huge role in my development. Even in my lowest point, (2009), Makati has been good to me.

I don't want to jinx it, but I simply cannot lose in that town. I simply can't. It's there that I'm at my best, it's there that I have a level of clarity that I just can't explain. That place empowers me, and I'm sure it has the same affect to a lot of people.

I'm still working at the Think Tank. Part time. Only on weekends. At least, if they get around to fixing my computer, yeah, I'll be there every weekend.

The Big Storm.

Everyone knows about the constant heavy rains that caused a bunch of floods all over the country, leaving hundreds in danger and facing possible homeless and whatnot. I don't care much about that. In fact, I love it when there's a huge disaster like that and I'm relatively unaffected. I'm not saying that to be a dick, I'm just being honest here. I love rain. I love how such calamities ensure that no one is traveling, making it easier for me to move around. A few years back, I was working in Purgatory when Ondoy hit. I was comfortably living in my Fortress, alone. The only effect such fucked up weather has in the general area I live in is that it makes the temperature all the more cozy. Again, I loved it, and I don't want to be insensitive to the people who were hit pretty bad, but that's how it is. I'm not a guy who cares about these things. I'm not really selfish, but I'm not entirely selfless either.

When last week's storm got worse, I was planning on just chilling in my bed, watching a few movies and eating a bag of chips as the weather slowly swayed me to sleep. But then, I heard about Marvi, one of the Scoobies, and her troubles without he flood. How her family was stuck at home, which was half submerged into the flood thanks to the non-stop rain of the previous night. I heard about how she had to get home, cause she was the home who was bringing food into their house and there was no access to get in. Not even her car could have helped her get into the subdivision.

Again, normally, I wouldn't care about other people's plight. That's just not me. But the Scoobies are not other people, especially not Marvi and her family. Most of anyone else, I would have wished them luck on braving the elements. But these guys, the Scoobies, have been on my side constantly since 2003 and if I am in any position to help any one of them with any thing, I don't hesitate to do so.

So, she and I braved the whole thing. We walked through the disgusting water, carrying bags of groceries making sure that they get to her family. It was a long day topped off with drinking, as , Marvi, Kokoy and I cracked open a few beers and surveyed the damage. I felt really good, seeing how the two of them took everything in stride. Impressive and admirable. I also felt good about being able to do something good, despite how little it was, to people who have done so much for me. I'll admit, I'm a bit of a prick to everyone else, but when it comes to my inner circle, I don't think there's nothing that I can't do for them.

I felt so good about hat day, that I even sent a text message to one of my "arch-foes", burying the hatchet. He replied, we did the SMS equivalent of shaking hands, and hopefully, that's one chapter of my life that's over. (I become a good guy approximately three days in a year. Don't get used to it, people.)

Everyone Brings The Funny.

Regardless of the conditions, TV people always feel the need to make sure the show goes on. And it did, so off I went to another creative meeting with the Gang. It was faster than usual meetings, and but there were a couple of noteworthy events. The first event: perhaps the funniest sketch idea of the day came from the director's personal assistant. It blew everyone else's proposals out of the water, including mine. I still snicker every time I think about it. The suggestion was so good, that the director specified two writers in the table to should be making him coffee and let the PA write the sketches. The second event, I wasn't one of those two writers. So, yay for me.

Seriously though, that moment reminded me of one of the many things I like about comedy. Everyone can do it. It's not really about talent, it's about a certain point of view. I left the meeting with a smile.

Second Thoughts.

Regarding the moments I clarity I usually have when I'm in the city, you know, the kind that hit you at 2 or 3 AM, in a dimly lit bar that's getting ready to close down, or as you smoke a cig along an empty backstreet? I had one of those. It made me question the need to do, scratch that, WIN the Hong Kong thing.

Truthfully, I'm not motivated by anything pure and noble. I'm not under the gun like I was last year. I'm not even that crazy about hitting the stage anymore, not like I was before writing for TV. I just got to thinking, here I am, busting my ass, working three jobs and for what? Stripped away from all the mental distractions, (working a lot does that) I couldn't provide a single, sensible thing to justify my decision to join the contest again.

It's true, sensibilities or practicality never comes into play whenever I find something that I really want to do, but that's the thing, I'm not sure I want to do it. A part of me thinks that the only reason I set my sights on that because I always need an end goal. If I don't have one, I don't function. BUt what's the end goal here? The TV writing thing is fulfilling my creative needs. I have a job that pays well. A part time job that's suitable. I already made a movie and there's a second one in development. It's not like there's a lack of avenues for me.

It sucks that I don't have anyone I can air this out to, and I guess that's why these lingering thoughts are coming out in this post. I'm sticking to the plan, but these thoughts can lead to burn out, and well, I've been down that road before.

The Weekend.

The thoughts, the anger, the burden of the jobs, despite everything that's positive going on, I'm still a big ball of stress. The weekend came, and I just really needed to blow off some steam. It's a good thing my boys were there. I don't talk abut my shit with these guys, for various reasons: The Big Man and I, we have a dynamic wherein he gets into silly shit, he talks about them to me, at length, I give him my thoughts, and that's it. Sometimes he follows my advice, sometimes he doesn't. The point is, that's how our relationship works. That's our dynamic. There have been moments wherein shit were reversed, but they're rare. The Tapa King, on the other hand, is someone who fancies himself as a wireman, given the hardships he's claimed to have survived. Because of that, he's a little too open when it coms to providing his insight, which, and I don't mean to insult the guy, are not that insightful. Maybe we're just too different, but still. The Critic, Jonic, everyone else, well, my relationship with them is very similar similar to the one I have with the Big Man, but to a lesser degree. They talk, I listen, but only offer my thoughts when asked.

Now, while I'm not entirely comfortable with talking about my issues with them, I could always rely on them when it comes to weekend stress management. And by that I mean, getting downright drunk and silly, bitches. We drank from the BIg Man's place, to this other place, and the new guy, this latest addition to the crew, was his usual drunk self, not making sense and shit, and we even almost left him at the bar. We were hiding each other's footwear. We overdrank, overate, insulted the Tapa King's intelligence a couple of times, it was classic. I can't even remember the last time I laughed that hard and that genuinely. It was nuts, and while it wasn't exactly what I needed, it helped.

As of now, I don't know what I'm going to do yet, but it's good to know that I can still rely on the weekends to help me out.

Brick by Brick

I actually thought that this was going to be a rant-free post, but there seems to be no shortage of annoying things people tend to do consistently. For this post, I'm going to complain about how people seem to be incapable of valuing other people's time.

A couple of weeks ago, I got a phone call from a high school friend inviting me to go to her kid's first birthday party. That was fine with me, had it not been for two important details. The party was to occur the following day and she lives in some far flung section of the north, thereby attendance to said party would take up the majority of the day. Seriously? She calls a day before? What did she think I was doing in my spare time? Sitting at hem with my thumb up my ass waiting for any invite? Inviting someone to a party that's far away the day before the said event, to me, means only one of two things: Either you think your event is so significance that it eclipses everything else that's on my schedule, or you didn't want me to show up in the first place and you gave me a polite invite. Either way, it's not cool. 

I hate shit like that. I hate it when people start conversations through text messaging then would take forever to reply because they are too busy. (Why start the fucking conversation in the first place?) I hate it when people show up in my house unannounced, expecting I have nothing better to do than entertain their rude asses. (If I'm at home alone, it's because I want to be home alone. Don't show up without notifying me in advance, cause unless you have a better offer than the prospect of me sitting around watching shit on a rare day off, I'm going to make sure I can fuck up your day as much as you fucked up mine.)

It's time, people. It's one of those things you can't get back. Leave my time alone, and you'll get the same respect from me.

Initiation?

Speaking of valuing time, the day after the company trip, I went to the TV network for the weekly creative meeting. When I got there, no one was around. Apparently, the meeting was held at some Japanese restaurant. I wasn't informed of this beforehand, and I even got chewed out for not knowing where the meeting was held. (I chose not to tell them that the person in charge of informing us about certain things conveniently forgot to message me, as she was already in trouble for other oversights.) One of the older writers took me aside and told me that this was some kind of initiation, a rite of passage for new guys like me. At the time, I was cool with it, but thinking about it, it didn't sit well with me. I mean, why would I need to go through a shitty ordeal just because I'm new? They called me to write for them. If this was a matter of earning my spot, shouldn't I be earning it by doing the job I was hired for as well I could? I'm not a fan of any sort of initiation. Why should i go through hoops just so I could be considered a part of something? It's ether you want me on board, or you don't. I should not have to be made to eat shit and like the taste. I do my job. I'll keep doing it until I am deemed no longer capable.

With that in mind, now that the luster of writing for that show has somewhat faded, I now remember why I left the TV industry several years ago. I'm not saying I'm going to quit tomorrow, but don't be surprised if I don't stick around as long as expected. It's cool and all, but if I was really made to work in a field that are veritable sluts to the audience, I would have stuck around MTV as that particular ship sank. The job's still fulfilling; just not as much as it used to when I started.

Birthday Amidst The Storm.

As a huge storm hit the South (I don't know nor care about the other places it hit), I dragged myself out of my extremely comfortable room to go and drink with Jonic and his friends/classmates to celebrate the guy's birthday. Now, I did say I was going dry, but of course, certain exceptions have to be made. It was the guy's birthday, and though we're not really as close as people might think we are, I had a feeling the storm would keep most of his guests from showing up.

The Tapa King was there, who apparently was trying to bed the McDonald's wench that hosted the Big Man's kid's birthday party. (I like the guy and all that, but if he devoted at least half of the determination and effort he puts into these meaningless affairs to his own personal and professional improvement, who knows what the guy can accomplish. But, to each his own, no matter how stupid his chosen path may be.) The GIrl Who Saved My Life was also there, along with her sister, and that was cool. I drank a lot, which resulted in me decorating the sidewalk with half digested spaghetti.

Probably it was the agreeable weather, but it was a fun night. 

The "Big" Meeting.

I was also blessed with a prospective freelance gig. ONe of the people responsible for giving me a job as a writer for a magazine about dogs and pets and shit looked me up and introduced me to people who were launching this new business and were looking for a writer. I felt really good attending that meeting, since I really do miss those days when I was freelancer extraordinaire. I felt in control. I felt optimistic. Plus, with the upcoming Hong Kong possibility, I felt like the universe was giving me a gimme. 

But then, I learned that the company was one of those network marketing stuff that sold beauty products and other similar shit, well… let's just say I gave them an offer that was easily refused. I'm not trying to be an asshole here. I just didn't agree with the values being sold, and regardless of whether or not I needed the gig, I couldn't do it. It was back to the old drawing board on that one.

Old Faces.

While all of those things are going on, I've been meeting up with Hannah and the Friendly Almost Neighbor, each asking for assistance on certain projects. Among other things, these two I worked with back in the Evil Empire. Hannah in particular, convinced me to leave my self imposed isolation and join the corporate world once more.

Those meet ups reminded me of old times, way before the drama of failed relationships and the discovery of comedy. Life was a lot simpler. I got up, went to work, got drunk, went home. Who knows, after I'm done with Hong Kong, I'm thinking I would welcome a return to the old ways.

The Third Job.

After sabotaging a freelance prospect in a not-so-subtle way, my slow loading brain bitchslapped me into remembering that I needed another source of income if I was to engage in my plan to end the year in the only appropriate way that I can think of. Fortunately, my feelings of returning to my old life, and the irrational sentimentality that came with meeting up with a couple of old friends and the solution to my frivolous financial need all came in one attractive yet mundane package: I just got a night shift online writing job in Makati. 

I was thinking about the last time I felt absolutely content in what I was doing, and I came thought about 2008. I had the same job, but in Ortigas. I wasn't happy, but I was okay. I was never in need, I was having insane weekends, and all in all, I didn't chase after anything.

So, my weeknights belong to this new company, Wednesdays to network TV, and weekends to the Think Tank or anything or anyone else who has a better offer. Yeah, that could work.

Back in the Bar.

Me, The Big Man and a few people from the Think Tank at Marbles on a stormy night can only yield good things. And they did.

A Life Less Ordinary.

I have three jobs now. I have a couple of passion projects and another movie on the horizon. I have far less people in my life than I did before, but the truth is, I've been content with dealing with everything alone. Truth is, while all of these things are going on, I've been feeling a lot of negative things and an intense amount of pressure. I wish there was someone that I could rely on during these times, but everyone who should don't really want to, everyone who's willing are not able, and those who are able, I recently discovered, are too full of themselves.

It's cool. It's my choice, hence, it's my burden. While I would appreciate the help, it's not required; all I ask is that everyone steer clear of my way. I'm rebuilding something important here, and I don't mind if I have to do it alone, brick by brick.

"I didn't think I would make it,

Thought everybody was against me
All those conquered eyes
And Christmases alone.

I never gave an honest answer
But I made a lot of angry organs.
Are we copacetic? Are we behaving now?
Filling up on endless enzymes
From other people's ugly insides

All this bitterness is starting to grow cold
Encompanies an empty evening,
Hanging onto complications
Sometimes quick sand has a massive appeal
To me

I want to be somewhere else

I think I can figure it out, but I'm gonna need a
Little help to get me
Need a little help to get me.
I think I can figure it out, but I'm gonna
Need a little help to get me through it
To get me through it

I always knew I had the answer
But I never understood the question
Indoor living
Lacerated to the bone

And now we've realigned the edges
I'm doing very well I thank you
All this sympathy is starting to wear me down
I wish I was someone else

I think I can figure it out, but I'm gonna need a
Little help to get me
Need a little help to get me.
I think I can figure it out, but I'm gonna
Need a little help to get me through it
To get me through it

I'll try to work this out
I'll try to get it on
I'll try (repeated in background after said once)

I like to tell you that I'm ready
For whatever's coming
But to be honest there's a part of me
That loses control (2x)

I think I can figure it out, but I'm gonna need a
Little help to get me
Need a little help to get me.

I think I can figure it out, but I'm gonna need a
Little help to get me
Need a little help to get me.

I think I can figure it out but I'm gonna
Need a little help to get me
Need a little help to get me
Need a little help to get me

Need a little help to get me through it." - Motion City Soundtrack, "A Life Less Ordinary"