I'm in love with you, this ain't a honeymoon

Once again, I'm absolutely ecstatic from seeing yet another great artist perform live. I was so blessed to catch John Legend's Manila concert last Thursday, March 26... for FREE! I've always thought he is such an amazing artist and singer; I started following his career when he released his second album, Once Again. Now that he's on his third one (Evolver), I thought the songs got even better.

Going back to last Thursday afternoon, and I could barely breathe from too much anticipation whether or not I'd be able to watch his show. I only got my senses back when a call from my friend J jolted me back to reality. Two tickets to see JL were waiting for us at Araneta Coliseum that night! I never saw myself get prepared for anything so quickly before.

And as expected, we were absolutely floored by John Legend's performance. He sounds so much better live, and he is such an adorable performer! We couldn't NOT squeal; the guy seriously knows how to work up the ladies. He sang most of his hits all the way from the first album, and most of the songs from the latest one. The best bit was when he did an encore of Ordinary People, looking really dapper in a tux. The entire crowd was singing their hearts out, it was absolutely magical. :)

Take it slow, this time we'll take it slow....

***

I'm really thankful that I was able to see one of my favorite artists live; it was the only thing that made my week. I've been having such a crappy past week -- if you've been thrown into such drama (again) after getting used to a boring and mundane lifestyle, you wouldn't know what to do with the situation, too.

I just hate it when some people drop back into my life (after I've pretty much erased them thoroughly from my entire database), and consequentially make a mess out of me... again. But the bigger question is, why do I still get so affected when the person barely even matters to me?

It's the chase. Like my friends concluded for me, it's always been about the chase. Darling just never gets tired of the game, eh?

Dear God, please don't let me die without coming to Paris and/or Barcelona

I'm back to my screwed-up body clock (in a nutshell, it's like how the Eheads song goes: agahan sa hapon, tanghalian sa gabi, hapunan sa madaling araw). Hence, the Internet and DVDs are my best friends yet again.

But it's all good, because I've been watching some nice love flicks just to make me feel happy-giddy in my own dorky way. One night, I dug through our old DVDs and found Before Sunset, and decided to rewatch it. I never really liked it that much the first time I saw it, but watching it again after how many years probably gave my life outlook a little bit more depth. Surprisingly, I understood most of what they were talking about, could relate to half of what the characters felt. I guess that came with age and experience, too. Suffice to say I fell in love with the movie this time.

Oh, and Paris! J'adooooore!

Don't you just want to be lost in those Parisian sidestreets and soak in the Frenchness of it all?

I guess when you're young, you just believe there'll be many people with whom you'll connect with. Later in life you realize it only happens a few times.

- Celine, Before Sunset

Then there's the seductress of a movie called Vicky Cristina Barcelona. It's funny how I now end up falling in love with places instead of people. If a stranger bursts into my house, tells me to pack my things and fly to Barcelona within an hour, I would mindlessly do so like my whole life depended on it. I always thought Rome or Paris was the most romantic city in the world, but nay. Watching Barcelona is like looking at a charmbracelet; you keep admiring it over and over from every angle. Just hearing the magnetic sound of Spanish guitar music through a television was already making my heart race; how could I possibly contain myself when I hear it firsthand (not to mention hearing it while in Spain)?



Woody Allen wrote a genius script, and shot the movie entirely in this warm, sepia-ish hue, which I think goes very well with the temperament of the story. There are two women who have had opposing views on love from the get-go, but both realize they probably want something different out of love when they meet the sexiest Spanish man alive (cue in Javier Bardem). It obviously screams of love, but not in a cliche way. It is sexy and sultry without even trying. It is passionately wild and crazy. It doesn't have the boy-meets-girl-then-sex-equals-happily ever after formula, which ironically, can be both refreshingly unique and frustrating at the same time.

And dios mio, Penelope Cruz is so gorgeous that it's not even fair. How can she look like she just rolled out of bed and still resemble a goddess? After watching this, I now know why she got that Oscar instead of Taraji P. Henson (aka Queenie of The Curious Case, who I was strongly rooting for). That Spanish accent is like a drug.

Sa wakas

The past weekend was definitely one for the books. Too much highs and too much lows, all in a span of a couple of days. I don't think there's been a weekend quite like it before... not in this country, anyway.

Not in this country's music industry, anyway.

6 March 2009 //

Adieux to the Man from Manila

Noon last Friday had me checking my Facebook (as always), and suddenly getting bombarded by all the Francis Magalona statuses. The man finally succumbed to leukemia after a year's battle, leaving behind the strongest widow I've ever seen and their eight kids. He was definitely a pillar of the Philippines' music industry; he was the first to dare rapping in this country, at a time when hiphop was solely associated to the Will Smiths and MC Hammers of the world. Who has never danced the running man to Mga Kababayan?? And I remember my elementary days, when every kid would start telling a story by asking "Meron akong... Ano? Meron akong kwento!" Awalawalawalawalawalawala.

And the best part is, he rapped about everything Filipino. Kayumanggi, pango. But he was hella proud to be (not that he's kayumanggi or pango to begin with), and in doing so, spread the nationalist vibes around. Who cared if we were shorter, or darker? We aren't just Asians; we're Filipinos.

I think what is more touching about FM is how his legacy has finally been noticed by everyone (myself included). He's been such a nationalist in all his songs, in his art, even in his clothing line. The man is so proud to be Pinoy, it's a big inspiration to all. What's NOT to be proud of, anyway? Personally, I think ours is one of the best races in the world. Mayabang na kung mayabang, but I will never tire of listing down reasons why we are.

It's really refreshing to see an icon stand up to his being Filipino, and influence so many others to love their heritage, their country. It's too bad the man had to die first before we all had to realize this.

But wherever he is, I'm sure he wouldn't have had it any other way. He left behind an insatiable love for the country, a generation of songs, and paved the way for music for the next batch of geniuses who will continue to inspire their generation. It's about time everyone proudly wears the 3 stars and a sun.


7 March 2009 //

Sa wakas ay nakita ko na ang aking hinahanap
Sa wakas ay nakuha ko na ang aking hinahangad

- eraserheads. Circus 1994

Saturday. This night is strongly in the running for the best night of my 2009 award. I was finally able to watch the Eraserheads: The Final Set concert!

A little story here. This is their second reunion concert (as any Pinoy who hasn't been living under a rock would know). Their first one was held last 30 August 2008, and unfortunately, I was in a completely different country when that happened. That fateful day, I kept whining and complaining to my Singaporean cousin and his Bruneian (?) girlfriend about how I was missing history... it was the biggest deal for me! Not that they ever comprehended what I was talking about (but my cousin was nice enough to buy me my favorite Kaya toast to make me feel better). That was one of my (if not THE) saddest, loneliest, homesick-est, and most depressing moment I've ever had while in Singapura.

I'm not exactly the most die-hard Eheads fan, but their songs have a very special meaning to me. The years of my youth were spent singing my lungs out to various Eheads songs with classmates at recess and lunch, and kalaros out on the streets (you were so out if you didn't know the lyrics to Toyang and Pare Ko. Complete with the cuss.), summers listening to my older cousins learn the rifts to whatever Eheads hit was playing on the radio at the time, Eheads tapes on constant play (and on full blast, too) while us younger cousins played with our dolls and bikes and rollerblades in the backyard. There was so much innocence, so much vibrance whenever I hear an Eheads song. It's like I get transported back to the early 90s, back to our backyard, back to the streets running around in my ragged pambahay. If I would compile a soundtrack of my childhood days, Ely Buendia would be mercilessly crooning about more than halfway through.

Fast-forward to last Saturday, and there I was with my sister, bathed in sweat and singing along once again to the songs of our yesteryears. I don't think the 'Heads fully realize how much impact they've had on millions from my generation, how every song holds a meaning and story to each one. But I'm drunkenly happy druggedly ecstatic absolutely elated over the moon and back that they decided to do another reunion concert. The whole crowd was one that night, and there was so much love for the band in the air. It's like everyone was trying to preserve the lost years and memories that came with each song as they sung, and I don't blame them.

I was doing the same thing.

OK, so maybe now I know why it didn't work out anywhere else. I'm really supposed to be home just so I could watch them play one last time. :-P

A summer to eat, pray, love

I'm really excited about this summer. I know I shouldn't be; I have this theory that the more positively I look forward to something, the more it ends in a disappointing note. Kind of like Murphy's Law, i.e. the worst thing that can happen, will. It isn't the healthiest mindset, but believe me, I've proven that theory time and time again. Nevertheless, I like feeling excited. I haven't felt this for a while, and if you knew how I ended my year last year, you'd have a clue why this whole feeling of euphoria is somewhat new.

I'm especially looking forward to this Lenten season. I never made a big deal about it in retrospect; you can say I wasn't the most obedient Christian during Lent. I'd conveniently "forget" that you shouldn't eat meat on a Friday ("Today is Friday?? Where'd the week go?" AFTER finishing a meal of fried chicken and spaghetti with meatballs), I'd sneak an additional meal when I should be fasting ("Would God really prefer that I starve?" then continue to gobble down that hotdog sandwich in 3 seconds), I basically daydream the night away during Visita Iglesia (we usually had it up in Tagaytay; how dreamier can it get spending a summer night driving around in that place?). Not really the best example.

But hey, just because I wasn't devoted didn't mean I loved Him any less.

To change all that, I have a plan to spend it completely different from my previous, wayward ones. For starters, I'm doing something that I haven't done before... I have decided to give up some stuff that I can't do without as my sacrifice. Cigs, liquor, and SWEETS. The first two, I should actually be giving up for good (well, liquor probably once in a while), but having no sweets is driving me loco! Though I have to be honest that getting past the cravings is an awfully rewarding feeling. I was at Saguijo last weekend, and it was torture not having a beer in hand and a stick of sin in the other while watching my favorite local band play. By the end of the night, I felt that I had won some battle with myself; having done it once, I hope I make it through another month. This should be an interesting summer, after all.

To add to the feel of Lent, I've started reading Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, and decided that it would be my official read for this season. I'm not even halfway through, but I'm having a weird feeling (in a good way) that the book is speaking directly to ME. You know when you're so engrossed while reading that you find yourself nodding and agreeing to every word? I'm nowhere near a bitter divorce nor a year traveling across the world like what the author had done, but her insights on getting past life boulders hit the bull's eye. And I'm loving it that I'm at a certain point where I can relate to what she says, knowing that people who go through a bump on the road have a way of rising beautifully (maybe a little cheaper than spending a year in Italy, India, and Indonesia). A few passages off the book alone has made my overwhelming need to travel rise dramatically. I think it's what I need in my so-called process of healing, and what better time to do that than Lent? That is, if I muster the energy to plan in the first place!