BOMBING IN MAKATI, and what really hurts

From my desk, I have a great view of the Makati Skyline, including Makati Medical Center. And at about 2:15 pm I saw rows of ambulances heading to the ER receiving area, with a sizeable crowd milling about. Heard the faint sound of sirens and I knew something must have happened.

Then we got a text message. Bombing at Glorietta. Oh God. Not again.

I've always thought bombing is a cheater's way to waging war. Childhood memories of water bombs being thrown at me when I least expected it didn't seem to be a fair way to conquer the playground. And now, it's a lot more treacherous when the intent is to instill fear on unsuspecting people.

The wreckage is big but not something so big it can't be repaired in a month. The casualties involved 9 dead -- That's still small compared to the bomb that exploded in Pakistan which involved over 100 deaths. I was monitoring the news and the Philippines didn't even make the headlines on CNN and BBC. Not that I'd like us to compete for most bombed city, but you get what I mean. This country is not that bad.

I guess what really hurts is that the Philippines has great people, has progressive thinkers, and we are on the verge of fast-tracking development and globalization. The Philippine peso has strengthened against the dollar at P44. Things are starting to look up. And then shit happens. The rest of the world (which may be ignorant to the woes of this country) will just dismiss us as a volatile nation. Investors will pull out. And we may go back to square one.

And at dinner last night with the Coke team and the Aussie film guys, the joke was they can't wait to get back to Sydney because they don't want to be here when the country implodes. Gee, thanks.

There's a lot of speculation happening now on who did it. The finger-pointing is surreal. Did the terrorists do it? Did Gloria order it? Nobody is making a claim. Goddammit, I thought bombing a place is all about making a political statement. At least the Al-Qaeda claimed responsibility for 9-11. But what happened yesterday was all about making people scared of no one in particular. The news feed from Inquirer (where I got this photo from) and Star were so depressing, I had to stop watching or reading the news.

But I simply can't shut it out of my mind. This is my neighborhood. Doing groceries will now be a task filled with paranoia. Everytime I'd remember Kids at work (the daycare that collapsed in Gloretta) I'll always have that chilling thought of injured kids. The next time I'd sit at my cubicle at work, I'd remember the rushing ambulances with victims who never made it to the emergency room.

And while everything on Monday will be business as usual, peace of mind will not be what it used to be.

ADDENDUM 10/29/2007: Police says it's a diesel leak accident, blaming the explosion on Ayala. Ayala says the diesel tank is intact (if it was the source, then it should've discombooberated) and that something or someone may have triggered the explosion. Lots of finger pointing happening now. Meanwhile, is it safe to do some shopping?

My Favorite TV Ad

Still brings me the giggles... :-)

Birthdays, Mothers, Daughters

Sometime on the last week of September, the dreaded day came. Not that I'm dreading about turning a year older, but because just like a senior in college, I am cramming to fix the rest of my life... You know how all those school projects, case studies and thesis made you think you knew everything? Well, turned out I didn't. And in the school of life, just when I'm half-way through, I shifted to another course.

But before I blab about how I'd be planning the next three decades of my life, let me focus on this day.

Nanay (my beloved term for my Mom) called me up at 6 am just to make sure she greeted me first. I guess if there's anyone who shouldn't forget a birthday, it's gotta be the woman who gave birth to you. She asked me what my plans were and I said I had work that day. Also told her I can't splurge, since my quarterly rent was due end September.

I could tell by her silence that she felt a bit sorry for me, and she went out of her way to say maybe I should go see you today. I didn't want to be responsible for the elevated blood pressure she might get travelling from Kalookan to Makati, so I said I'll just see you on the weekend, mom.

"But you have to celebrate your birthday. I always did, even when you're not with me" her voice cracked.
Translation: You are my baby and I'm glad I gave birth to you.

I guess it's a less obvious way of saying she loves me. And that alone warmed an otherwise stressful day.

Now for the other female in my life. Sandra was jumping around all week saying she had a gift for me. That morning, she presented a nice little parfum with a vanilla scent. Personally, I prefer citrus or clean scents rather than sweet ones. But she said she picked the perfume herself, and this is how a Mommy should smell like. And I wouldn't want to debate on the taste of a 7-year old. Especially if it came with intricate gold wrapping from Rustans. I thanked her and texted thanks to the Ex as well (no doubt, he paid for it).

But what really got me was this... The birthday drawing. She started doing them for me since she was two, and I've looked forward in receiving them, and seeing how the artwork improves with each year. And being in 2nd grade, and only given pencils, crayolas and craypas, she thought of it as a special grown-up treat to use the "forbidden medium"... Colored ballpens. I must say that it does look nice on my cubicle wall.

That night, we ate at TGI Friday's. Just Sandra and me. She had the kiddie platter, I had the Santa Monica Nacho Crusted fish, which was surprisingly excellent. Extra crispy and spicy on the outside, and melt-your-mouth Dory Fillet on the inside. Sandra even got envious and kept forking my fish. We topped it off with an Oreo ice cream sandwich and pretended it was a cake.

Then she said to me, " Can we tell the waiters it's your birthday? I want them to sing for you."
I replied "Never mind, baby. I'm a bit embarassed because there's only the two of us, it's not like we have a dinner party or anything".
And then she hugged me and said "Oh mom, you think too much."

Alcohol-Laced Observations on a Gay Night

Went bar-hopping with gay friends and it was pretty amusing. The lack of men and the abundance of vodka has brought about much mental masturbation and bitching on simple truths. The following thoughts were pondered after the 4th round. If they don't make any sense, oh well... They did at the time we thought of them.

1. The New Look of Power. This vampy woman is by no means a night crawler, but the current iron butterfly of the leading cellphone brand. Thank Gawd the suits no longer wear suits. However, on a night of Hed Kandi and cosmopolitans, the only thing that separates her from the night crawler would be to examine her outfit’s cut and fabric. And unfortunately, only the gay men can distinguish that it’s a Pucci. (Or is it a Morgan? Geez, even I don't know!)

2. The New Hetero Go-Go. There are men-only girlie bars. There are Chippendales and women-only strip clubs. There are bars just for gays. I'm just glad a new breed of Go-Go is coming into this mix. Went to O bar in Malate and found it refreshing that there was a guy and girl tandem on stage. Except for the slightly skimpy outfits, they didn't strip down. They were just up there dancing like the flyboys and flygirls of MTV Grind. It was good, clean fun. Sort of reminds me of a time when people go to discos to dance and just that. Also noticed that people don't come on to each other too much in that atmosphere. The whole atmosphere feels a wee bit platonic. Maybe it's because the flygirl was clothed, not for sale, and is really a deans-lister at La Salle and just dancing for fun. Or maybe it's because everyone danced to Madonna's Jump and that killed the sleaze factor altogether. Or maybe because the bar is owned by gays (though not a bonafide gay bar) and the male and fale patrons can't really mess around bec its neutral ground...



3. The Emerging New Face of the Filipina. We (myself along with colleagues, college buddies, etc) have always been asked, how come you don’t look Pinay? And defensively we answer, how is one supposed to look anyway? The trouble is, we are expected to be petite and brown-skinned and dusky, with a figure that would fit a size 1 from China. But the Filipina look is changing. Centuries of interracial breeding has finally created a more diverse-looking population. I can’t help it if my nose looks like an Italian schnozz. Or if my hair is naturally curly. Filipinas do have curly hair, it’s just that they’re brainwashed into hair straightening. The point is, the mestizas (Eurasians, mongrels, mudbloods) of questionable descent are also facing the world stage, representing the Philippine race, and are proud to embrace this culture. Sure, we get some perks and can demand a little more respect from anyone with a colonial mentality. But there's still that they vs. us. We can't haggle in Divisoria market because they think we're not a local. That's the price one has to pay for not being brown.

Losing Innocence

With the brouhaha over Disney girl Vanessa Hudgens, I would say she's not the only one who lost her innocence.

Last week, my daughter clicked the Internet Explorer icon and out came the MSN homepage. And on the headlines, she read DISNEY BACKS VANESSA HUDGENS NAKED PHOTO. As she was reading the article, she asked a barrage of questions:
Mom, isn't she the girl in high school musical?
She has a photo with no clothes on?
Oh, she wanted to give her photo to a boy... To Zack?
Is he her boyfriend?
Do boys like it when they see girls naked?"

Not really wanting to lie, I just answered as matter-of-factly as I could.
Yes.
Yes.
I don't know.
Maybe.
The last question, though I struggled, I answered Yes.

Ohmigawd. I am totally unprepared for the day that she would ask sensitive questions about sex. But I'd rather she asked me, than go off researching on the net.

"Mom, I feel bad".
"Why?"
"Because I thought she was a good girl".
"Well, it doesn't mean that she's a bad person, baby. People make mistakes. Her mistake was not thinking of consequences".


Sandra did look disillussioned. Nobody likes to see their idol defamed. It's as bad as the Jollibee Mascot sex video joke.

"Mommy, anyway... how did her boobies look like?
That I didn't answer.

Pretty Offended

I was rushing to a talent casting session yesterday. The corridor leading to the casting room was dotted with prospective talents with their managers and agents. Being always in a hurry, I just squeezed myself in and huffed a quick "excuse me, coming through" for people to make way.

Then this guy, whoever he is, goes Miss, you gotta fall in line"
I looked back, not quite getting what he's saying. I'm in a rush here. So I asked, "hello? why do I have to fall in line?"
And then he answered "because all the models have to register".

Oh, man you should've seen my face!
I then politely told him I'm actually from the ad agency, and my presence was needed to pick the models, not to act as one. But I did manage to commend him for keeping the session organized. I also managed to keep myself from grinning and not snort a giggle.

But deep inside... tee hee hee hee...

Miss_Understood

Setting: In line at a Coffee Counter.
Woman ahead of me places her order to the barista.

Woman: one broddycap.
Barista: (confused) uh... Mocha Frap?
Woman: No, Broddycap.
Barista: Ma'am, we don't have caps or hats.
Woman: Broddycap! Yor selling it! I see it on sign board!

I guffawed when I glanced up at the menu board.
Yup, the woman was right.
They do have brewed decaf.

Hi-Tech Toilet

I get amused with the simplest things... Having been around SouthEast Asia, I'm quite happy just seeing a clean toilet. But when I managed to see one of these babies in Greenbelt, talk about being impressed. I was like, whoa, holy crap!

So um... Anal massage anyone?

Dear Santa

Another cheap thrill. My daughter is one of the kids who voiced for this Radio spot. I'm so impressed with her, she has done TV, print and radio at age 7. And I swear, I had nothing to do with it. :-)



Note: For some reason, the video plug-in has bugs, depending on the browser. For this reason I switched from Safari to Firefox. Holler if the video (well, radio ad) doesn't play.

Two Seconds of Fame

Well, not really fame. Sort of like a really cool cheap thrill for me and my daughter. Here are a series of ads for car headlights released in Manila Bulletin last August 25.

Click, Click, Ow!

DOWNSIDE: Annual Medical Exam interfered with work. Not only did I (ok, we) have to line up for the blood test, I had to multi-task and think of a promo tvc while in line. On top of that, I almost passed out from not having breakfast.
UPSIDE: Blood test may finally prove that I am anemic, have low blood platelet count, extremely low cholesterol levels due to not eating properly and not getting enough sleep. And maybe the office will see how weak I am and grant me some time off! A vacation, finally!.. Well, I can dream, can't I?

UPSIDE: Free pap smears, to be conducted by our friendly Medicard medical technician. And it's done here, right in our office! No need to go to Makati Med!
DOWNSIDE: Cannot fathom idea of having my privates poked with a speculum while hearing the clickety-clicks of neighboring keyboards. Or worse, officemates hearing my gasps (definitely not from pleasure) from the next cubicle. I'll pass, thanks.

UPSIDE: They said I am eligible for a free ECG exam.
DOWNSIDE: I qualified because of my age.

DOWNSIDE: The FGD room has a one-way mirror to another room -- this is where we ad people view consumers' reactions to certain ads. Nothing bad about that, right? Try having the X-ray procedures done here. And be told to strip down and face the mirror braless. Hello, world!
UPSIDE: None.

DOWNSIDE: Our urinalysis and fecalysis samples are temporarily placed next to the pantry area.
UPSIDE: Office-wide appetite loss.

My Mr. Brazil

Ever since I got neuro-gassed at Sandra's birth, my memory has been awful. So awful, I can't even recall the name of this model whom I personally picked and shot. To think he's deliciously cute!

So what's the point? Why do I have a Brazilian hunk on my blog? Well, let's say that apart from needing some eye candy and make my posts less sad (that's the general feedback lately), I got pretty amused with him.

He's about 21 years old, eats carb like a cop, gorgeous but not too full of himself and just about the most professional kid (young model) I've met. He's FOB from Sao Paolo, and not because he was flown in specifically for this project. He flew in by himself. Sort of gambled on his luck, charm and good looks. He wanted to make money and knew that SouthEast Asia is a good place to boost his modelling career. With all the demand for more Eurasian-looking talents, I practically knew he'd get approved by the clients the minute I saw him. Plus, those rock-hard abs were pretty convincing.

But what really moved me was at a young age, he knew what he wanted. Times must be hard, so he gave up school and marketed himself to modelling agencies around the globe. He was driven by need.

Geez, what was I doing at 21? I was trying to decide whether to be a journalist, or be a copywriter. I was concerned with boys and fashion. I still lived with my MOM! I didn't have a savings account. I had no sense of what would happen in the future.

He on the other hand, has travelled across Europe, North America, Asia... has been saving money, has tried to learn the language of every single country he's visited. He's only been in Manila for 3 weeks and could already understand conversational Tagalog.

If I were his Mom, I'd be so proud.

By the way, his Coke Light billboard is at Greenbelt 3, Makati Ave side. His abs are in posters around the malls as well.

Jesus, You've Got Mail.

I've mentioned before in an earlier post about wondering why and how did Sandra's teachers and guidance counselor took a special interest in the fact that her parents are separated. And now I know why.

Went to her school for Parents' day. The ex and I agreed (well, we fought first. sigh) that I should be the one attending it, you know, to avoid making a scene. I was late as usual. The classroom was already packed with earnest kids and matching doting parents, the sight that would be teeth-tingling if I totally lacked any wholesome Brady Bunch family empathy. I was alone, but okay. Maybe just a wee bit envious, but I thought if I can just go through the motions as quickly as possible, this event would be painless.

Or so I thought.

There were lots of cards displayed on the class bulletin board. Parents' day cards with a Dear Jesus letter. I thought it would be a great idea to go scoot over there and look at 'em cards and avoid socializing altogether. I caught the teacher making a sideways glance at me as I approached Sandra's card. And before I could say Holy Press Release, I caught The Dear Jesus part in her missive. I don't want my parents to have problems and pls try to put them together and love each other agin (sic). Talk about bringing in the big kahunas, my daughter is now asking Jesus what she couldn't ask me. The thing is, THIS card isn't a personal letter, it's a class project for the teacher, the whole class and all the other parents to see. I glanced at the teacher again and she smiled at me. Hmmm... So this is what it feels like to star in your own reality show. LOL

At home, I asked my daughter about the card, and she told me not to worry about it. "Besides, I asked Jesus, Mommy. Not you. You don't have to do anything about it".

I wish it were that simple. I wish I can call on divine intervention and have my prayers answered. But even the most pious of people cannot afford to have that much faith, or be just fatalists. And oftentimes, people being human, would pray for the wrong things anyway, and God knows (if and when he's listening) if he'll take these prayers seriously.

I thanked Sandra for the prayer. Yes, maybe Dad and I shouldn't fight anymore. I'd pray for that. But right now, just that.

The Breakables

UPSIDE: Wow! They're finally giving the trophies away!
DOWNSIDE: Um, Er... Where should I put them?

Lots of changes happening now. Our Chief Creative Officer is revamping the Creative Department -- not just the organization, but also the decor. Among those eased out were the old trophies from the past Ad Congresses and Creative Guilds Awards. So when they announced if it has your name on it, you can get it , I grabbed mine. Having them now fills me with both pride and regret. I remember being a young writer, winning an award and feeling like a hotshot. But now that I'm handling accounts that are more hungry for profit rather than accolade, it's harder to get this chunk of glass.

Anyway, since I don't have the space in my flat (and would be petrified having breakables around) they now sit on my cubicle window. So when I get writer's block or when I feel blue I could always say hey you, you didn't do too bad. .

Here Comes The Rain

It's more like a storm, actually. It's been raining for days, and I've been coming to work drenched to the skin. The city I love is engulfed in a dull gray hue, even after lunch, which is when I snapped this pic. Being a closet clinically-depressed person, I took pains to appear peppy in times of gray. I play music, I put on make-up, and unlike the UV-ray avoiders here, I am the only one in the creative department who'd pull up the window blinds. I like looking at the cityscape, the coastal view, the sunset. It really takes so little to cheer me up. Blue skies and white puffy clouds enchant me most of the time and I stare at them when I'm brainstorming by myself. But now, with the skies so dim, so is my disposition.