Saturday, February 28, 2015

indie film marathon: Ang Huling Cha-Cha ni Anita and Transit

of course, i decided i wanted to see Ang Huling Cha-Cha ni Anita again, so i asked my friend's girlfriend to join me. it's her life story and her sixth time to watch. she never tires seeing it so i knew i had a companion. i asked her to see the next movie with me. i missed Transit when it was shown so i made sure not to pass up the chance to see it again.

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Transit tells the story of immigrant Filipino workers in Israel who are forced to hide their children inside their houses for fear of deportation due to a new law passed in Israel.

i loved this movie.  i read about it and knew i wanted to see it but didn't have the chance.  Irma Adlawan was so remarkable in this movie, you'd think she was speaking Hebrew all her life. Ping Medina was so great as a father that i wanted him to sire all my children (i still salivate over brother Alex, though).  my chest was so heavy with his struggle, knowing that he cannot keep his son with him, the son's mother couldn't help.   even young actors Marc Justine Alvarez and Jasmine Curtis-Smith (yes, Anne's sister) were revelations.  it's amazing how fluent they all were, just proving once again, how talented Filipinos are.

it made me appreciate what i have because so many people cannot be as fortunate to find the work they love here in our country, they have to find the means somewhere else.  it's hard enough to make a living here, but to work in a foreign land, whose laws and cultures are so much different than ours.  it reminded me that sometimes children can easily forget who they are or where they come from, if they grew up in a foreign country.  i know so, as i have cousins in the US now.  it made me grateful that despite being alone, that i have work here and friends.  it made me grateful that though i haven't found it yet, i will eventually find my home. 

Thursday, February 26, 2015

angry girl journal 02.26.2015

very mature and Christian-like of you to "unfriend" me in social media.  instead of reaching out to resolve this, that's what you do.  it's sad because i really thought of you as a friend.

lessons learned, indeed.

i sit with you, i email you, i talk to you over the phone, but i don't seem to get the message through.  i know you have tons of things to do.  so do i.  and this is the part, where as he said, i can't hold your hand right now.  i have to do my job.

before i used to cover for a lot of people when they were late in their deadlines and that got me into trouble.  i ended looking inefficient because instead of pointing out that this person didn't do their job or didn't do their job well or didn't do their job well on time, i just let it slide and took the wrath for it. and this is the part, where he said, i am not here to make friends.

friends are supposed to support each other and they shouldn't be cause for the other to lose their job. okay, technically, i won't lose my job. but you're being difficult and i could ultimately fail because of your inability to deliver.  i mean, case in point:  he was a lousy friend, and he was an arrogant co-worker; he would always want to take the easy way out just to get ahead of everyone, but when i needed something from him, he delivered.

i cannot say the same thing about you.

all this time i'm trying to think if there is some inability on my part to try to reach out or communicate effectively to explain why i am not getting what i need from you.  but everybody else got me what i needed and i have in fact, planned accordingly based on the information they gave me.  i don't see why, how, you whom i have devoted time to, in order for you not to feel abandoned, cannot give me what i need to do my job.  and i get it, i totally get it.  i have been in the position where i am doing so many things at once and i have no one to rely on but myself.  but i am able to get people what they need and if for some reason i cannot execute because i don't understand what the ask is, i go ahead and ask.  the part where she said, what is stopping you from accomplishing this and how can i support you so you can, because "no, i can't!" is just not good enough an answer.

this isn't about trying to show how incompetent you are.  i don't do that.  you're my friend.  well, at least, you were.  i am willing to admit my faults to fix this.  sadly, you are not.  if only you could stop being the victim all the time. i don't see why you couldn't sit down with me the way i had sat down and explained everything to you.  even the emails you sent to me were as difficult to comprehend as you are.  and i don't mind that you sent me crap because you felt the need to show me how shitty you felt but that same email was sent to other people.  are you willing to show them just how unprofessional you are by sending them crap?

i know it feels like i've thrown you under the bus by reaching out to her, knowing that when i do, she will give you hell, because that's what she does.  but you leave me no choice.  talking to you is futile.  the lights are on but no one's there. i know she can micromanage you like crazy, you always complain about it.  you think asking her for something i asked you a long time ago is betrayal. if i fail to execute my job because of your failure to deliver, then what do you call that?

if anything, i should be "unfriending" you. 

Monday, February 23, 2015

manners. maketh. Man.

"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."

- Ernest Hemingway

i grew up watching James Bond movies.  it's no wonder i'm into British guys.  so when i heard the radio ad for the movie Kingsman:  The Secret Service, i knew i had to see it.

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who knew Colin Firth could kick arse?

the James Bond movies have become pretty violent over the last few years and Kingsman, as another spy movie, is no exception.  what i found very amusing even in spy shows like The Americans (Russians pretending to be Americans pretending to fight Russians - i haven't seen it in a while, so that may have changed, i don't know.  my neighbor stopped paying their cable bills so i sold my tv) and Person of Interest (Reese and Shaw were former spies, weren't they?!) is that there are less guns and more hand to hand combat scenes.  sure, if they decide to annihilate every living being on the face of the planet they could do so with really heavy stuff like those nuclear warheads they keep saving for a rainy day.  Kingsman used neuro-signals in order to trigger the violent side of each individual, turning on the primal urge within all of us to make killing machines designed to eliminate one another.  pretty clever, won't you say?

my favorite part of the movie was there are no damsels in distress.  even the Bond girls now can kick major ass in heels.  Charlie's Angels, hello?  Carter, Root, Shaw, Buffy, the list goes on.  these are all strong women playing strong women characters.  i know, i know, Kingsman still had the princess whom Eggsy got to fuck backdoor style but we had Roxy as the new Lancelot so we can let that whole save-the-world-you-can-fuck-my-arse thing go.  despite the new world, there are still women who are that way. what i can say?

again, i just have to say that i love Colin Firth.  i missed him as Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice but i saw him in The King's Speech, the Bridget Jones films and Love Actually.  he's so lovable, like Jim Sturgess  and then he turned all action superhero in Cloud Atlas. it's like Britain is secretly breeding really hot men to revitalize MI6.  i'm no Whovian but i don't think i have to explain further here.  

Thursday, February 05, 2015

how not to learn how to drive

when i was in high school, we had the misfortune of having our water cut off for the whole village.  we went from free unlimited water to where-the-hell-am-i-going-to-get-the-water-for-my-next-bath.  it took a while before people decided it was time to pay our debts to get the water back running, much later to have a water pump built, even longer for my father to decide we needed our own.

everyday after school i would go to the end of our block just to fetch water for the house that we would be using for the next day.  i wouldn't stop until i was able to fill three whole drums:


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that would take at least two hours before i can start cooking and do my homework.

anyway, one Sunday when my mother went to work and my father went jogging at the park, i woke up alone in the house, with no food and no water.  i mean, we had water to drink but we didn't have water to use at home for our basics.  every Sunday, the block where the water pump was situated would be parked with cars so as if carrying two pails of water wasn't difficult enough, you had to make sure you didn't hit the cars else by the time you get to the house there would be no water left in the pails.  that also meant that if you were out pumping for water, no one would be able to see you because you were blocked by the cars.

i locked the house and went to the end of the block to fetch water for the house.  it was a manual pump so it took a while to fill one pail.  apparently while i was going to get water my father went home from his jog and he didn't have any keys to the house.  we didn't have cell phones or beepers then but you'd also wonder why the owner of the house wouldn't have his own keys.  so when i got back he was so mad because he thought i might have eloped or something. after this ordeal, i wish i  had ran away.  or died.

my father was raised old school so you don't throw tantrums, you do not answer to your elders no matter how right you are.  YOU HAVE NO VOICE.  explaining to this man where you went without being hit in the face or the head or accused of being disrespectful was impossible.  if he wasn't hurting you with his hand, he was hurting you with his words.  this went on for about an hour, probably longer, because every time he would cool down he would ask the same questions.  he'd cool down, apologize but before i could explain, before i could answer he would get his second wind (and third, and fourth . . .) and start hitting me again.  all i could do was cry.  i wanted so much to tell him, "i was trying to get water," but he wouldn't hear any of it.  he just wouldn't.   all he heard was how tired he was that he didn't have keys to the house, trying to find a way to get in.  all he knew was that i went out gallivanting on a Sunday morning and he looked like an idiot calling out my name so that i could open the door for him.  he didn't even see the two full pails of water or the second drum which was two-thirds full.  when he finally did, he'd already hit me a bunch of times.  not to mention he kept yelling at me so loudly that neighbors could hear even with closed doors what a slut of a daughter he thought i was.

when i finally did get a chance to tell him, you could tell he was surprised but no amount of sorry could stop my tears or my hurt face.  i was too petrified to come near him when he called to hug me and apologize.  he took the house keys from me and asked me to get in the car.  we went to the cemetery.  by this time i was really scared like i was done for.  i've seen shows where they do body dumps in cemeteries.

that is where and how i learned how to drive.