Pinoy Stories

Camoi's Pinoy Stories.

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Weekend and Things

Came down with a cold today. Ugh. Have a slightly sore throat as well.

Yesterday, John and I took a really LONG walk along the downtown Manhattan water line. We started at the Seaport, walked until we reached the Staten Island ferry Station, made our way into Battery Park and into Tribeca. We would have stopped there except the trains were running on an insane weekend schedule that nobody could seem to figure out. The ACE Uptown tracks were closed. We had to walk up and down Fulton Street trying to find an alternate route that was actually in service. A bored-looking MTA lady finally pointed us to where we should go, so we walked what seemed like an infinite number of blocks up Broadway until we ended up in Canal St. in the middle of Chinatown. That was over SIX hours of just walking. But it was nice. Perfect weather for an extended stroll.

Needless to say, we were dead tired when we got home.

That's all for now I guess. My mind is dead. Probably murdered by the army of cold viruses currently wreaking havoc throughout my body.

Will blog again when my brain deigns itself ready to resurrect.

Manila Mangoes

I miss our mangoes. I really do.

The mangoes here are big, red, and aren't really fleshy. They're really what we call star mangoes back home. The best way I would desrcibe them is they sort of taste like carabao mangoes (the ones best eaten green, unripe, and with bagoong) that have been forced to ripe in someone's storage basket in the kitchen. They're much nearer apricots in terms of texture, while our mangoes are almost like peaches. You have to cut them up like a pear, you can't eat them with a spoon, and the sweetness is different -- not really in terms of degrees, but just the whole base taste of it.

The other week I bought a pound of champagne mangoes, which looked yellow enough, although they were much smaller than what I'm used to. The texture was similar, and the taste was much closer, although still noticably different. Apparently, these were from Mexico, also called Atualfo mangoes or Manila Mangoes (possibly descendants of Mangoes that found their way there from Manila during the Gallon Trade years).

The thing is, these are not the mangoes I want! I want my provincial mangoes, the big ones, the ones that do not wrinkle (the champagne/atualfo/manila mangoes get wrinkled when very ripe), with sticky dried sap on the skin.

Ah. Mangoes, my Mangoes. How do I love thee? Where can I find thee?

Note to MOM: when we go there next year, I will be needing baskets and baskets of ripe, sweet, golden yellow mangoes, okay?

ANANYA

Trixie, I miss you.

This is Song 19, by Ananya (formerly Arctic Hysteria). Ananya is composed of Trixie and Camoi (yay TIPAN). Camoi also sings (or used to sing ba?) for Pinoy Stories. I filched the mp3 from Joy, who did the guitars and also recorded this and other songs. (thanks ha, upload ka pa sana).

PLAY Song 19.

"Only you have
the natural gift
to destroy me
hypnotize me
make me feel like
I'm heading in
the general direction
of nowhere
too much of a good thing
is just an illusion
and I can't seem to let go of you
and I'd rather hold on
for as long as you let me

you're so beautiful...

walking the thin line
between bliss and pain
has become routine
but I've travelled many roads
but by far you're
the safest place i know

you're so beautiful..."

PLAY Song 19.

President

I'm not much into politics these days, understandably methinks. But I did send my little sigh of relief to join the Filipino collective when the tentative winner of the latest electoral circus was finally announced.

Congratulations to Madame President. May the nation at least maintain its precarious hold on some semblance of order under your leadership. I'm not overjoyed that she won, but I'm extremely relieved nonetheless. With her, we can at least pretend that we're going somewhere. With her, there's still a little bit of hope.

I also heard about the chaos caused by some disgruntled candidate's supporters. According to the news, they wreaked major havoc on vehicles lined up on Manila's already congested roads by puncturing more than a hundred tires, which obviously resulted in a Gordian knot of cars, buses, jeepneys, etc.

Ah. Land of my birth. Pearl of the Orient Seas. I can just imagine the cacophony of horns and curses that pierced your carcinogenic air.

The plot is right out of a cartoon. The vague defeat of a half-white presidentiable whose credentials consist mostly of fighting the bad guys in the movies. With outdated 1-2 punches. And a gut hanging out of too-tight, too-faded jeans. He loses, the tiny little brown Thumbelina wins. The littlest Philippine President continues her stay in the Palace. The day of victory is marred only by the sea of discarded rubber lying witness to a rival's absurd display of dissent (can you just imagine the exact moment on the highway when the wheels suddenly, simultaneously, went flat?).

Only in the Philippines.

Weekend

Such a weekend for barbecues and alcohol this turned out to be.

Friday night, John and I drove out to this bar called the Nutty Irishman in Long Island for a little get-together with his former co-workers. It took us about an hour and 15 to get there (yes, it's waaay out there). It was fun. There was a cover band playing the usual pop rock. Of course, John and I were the only Asians in the whole damn place, but I guess that's to be expected. We had to miss Vilas' little bash though, because they were on at about the same time (only Vilas had his thing in the city).

The following day, we woke up at noon. We packed up some burgers, buns, and a bottle of Puerto Rican Rum and went to Cunningham Park for Barbecue #1. Rishi even bought a new grill for the occasion. The sun was in top form that day, and I have the tan lines to prove it. We trooped home at around 5:45, and what do you know? The people who live upstairs were having a barbecue in our recently-cleaned backyard. Bryan invited us (well, he invited John (in Chinese)) to partake in the merry-making, but we (John) declined. We were still really full. Watched a movie called "A Japanese Story" (which isn't really Japanese, it's Australian and I didn't like it all that much). At around 11pm, we got a call from Rishi telling us to go to Vilas' place because it was his birthday and they were having a barbecue! Left our house around midnight. Had a couple of hotdogs and more alcohol. It was a cold night too, in sharp contrast to the scorching hot afternoon. I don't know what time we left, but we were really tired by then.

It was great, reminded me of Manila and how we would always get calls at around 11 or 12, inviting us to another last-minute bacchanal. So anyway, today is our day of rest (I think). It also made me think of having a barbecue of my own. Our backyard is spacious enough, and it's been cleared so there shouldn't be any fear of sharing the space with disgusting little things. Plus there's already a grill there, and s table and a couple of chairs. All we really need is the meat and the drinks, and we should be all set.

Happy Father's Day!

French Spring 2004

I wish I could go to Eastwood for Fete de la Musique too. Huay. I miss that little ephemeral world.

Rose
lyrics Boyd Hagart-Alexander, music Cynthia Alexander

Walk the streets alone tonight no life at home
must get out to watch the pretty Ones
You want to talk but they don't understand
You want to live, want to love

You are a Rose, on a stormy sea
Rose, uncaring society
Rose, of impropriety

You must be what you must be no other the same
Hunting streets with hormones high
Forgotten Rose, alone you cry
You want to live, want to love

You are a Rose, on a stormy sea
Rose, uncaring society
Rose, with thorns to hide your feelings

You are a Rose, on a stormy sea
Rose, uncaring society
Rose, of impropriety
Rose, with thorns to hide your feelings

The Internet Genius

TIM BERNERS-LEE.

Remember that name, people. Bow down. The man deserves your respect, your gratitude, maybe even your adoration. The man is one of the greatest geniuses of our time, and his name should be embedded in all our brains. He has impacted society, this whole world, in ways we probably would not have been able to fathom were we born a century ago. His contributions to mankind will probably continue to affect this world for many, many years to come.

Boys and girls, he is the INVENTOR of the INTERNET. Cyberspace is his legacy.

And today was the day he was vindicated. Finally. Forget what they told you in computer class about some American inventing HTML and HTTP. Forget that it was supposed to be some military intelligence technology. Lies! He is the real deal, the real father, the real Internet Creator. He is the ONE.

"It started, of all places, in the Swiss Alps. The year was 1980. Berners-Lee, doing a six-month stint as a software engineer at CERN, the European Laboratory for Particle Physics, in Geneva, was noodling around with a way to organize his far-flung notes. He had always been interested in programs that dealt with information in a "brain-like way" but that could improve upon that occasionally memory-constrained organ. So he devised a piece of software that could, as he put it, keep "track of all the random associations one comes across in real life and brains are supposed to be so good at remembering but sometimes mine wouldn't." He called it Enquire, short for Enquire Within Upon Everything, a Victorian-era encyclopedia he remembered from childhood.

... It's hard to overstate the impact of the global system he created. It's almost Gutenbergian. He took a powerful communications system that only the elite could use and turned it into a mass medium. "If this were a traditional science, Berners-Lee would win a Nobel Prize," Eric Schmidt, CEO of Novell, once told the New York Times. "What he's done is that significant.

... You'd think he would have at least got rich; he had plenty of opportunities. But at every juncture, Berners-Lee chose the nonprofit road, both for himself and his creation. Marc Andreessen, who helped write the first popular Web browser, Mosaic — which, unlike the master's browser, put images and text in the same place, like pages in a magazine — went on to co-found Netscape and become one of the Web's first millionaires. Berners-Lee, by contrast, headed off in 1994 to an administrative and academic life at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. From a sparse office at M.I.T., he directs the W3 Consortium, the standard-setting body that helps Netscape, Microsoft and anyone else agree on openly published protocols rather than hold one another back with proprietary technology. The rest of the world may be trying to cash in on the Web's phenomenal growth, but Berners-Lee is content to labor quietly in the background, ensuring that all of us can continue, well into the next century, to Enquire Within Upon Anything. " -- Time

Yes, he never really got rich off of the internet, except for the million dollars he got today as a token of the world's appreciation, which is pocket change (and a very SMALL token) compared to the fortunes Bill Gates and the other geeks who used Berners-Lee's technology eventually ammassed for themselves. Berners-Lee chose the not-for-profit path so the internet could be what it is now -- an infintely open platform for speech and expression, an information highway, a space for which humanity can gather, a new world unto itself.

So remember the name, boys and girls. And spread it far and wide. Give the man the recognition he deserves. It's the least all of us can do.

Alien in America

I'm now a LEGAL PERMANENT RESIDENT of the US.

Just got back from the immigration interview today, where they stamped my passport and everything. I'm now authorized to work and travel with no problems. Green card should come in the mail pretty soon. The whole adjustment of status process (F1/student to Legal Permanent Resident), from mailing out the application forms to the stamping of my passport, went fairly well and it took less than 2.5 months. Which is totally contradictory to all the stories I heard. Like this one, which is funny, but sad too.

If there's anyone out there looking to do the same thing, here are a couple of tips that I found to be helpful:

- Organize everything the way USCIS says you should. Now is not the time to be original. The USCIS people do not like individuality. These are people who can make your life hell, and who will probably do so, at the slightest opportunity. Do you really want to stand out under these circumstances? Follow their damn rules. To every damn letter, period and comma.

- If you search their website intensively enough (you obssesive-compulsive paranoid little geek), you'll find instructions on how to send your application, from using envelopes for your pictures, to using paper clips and NOT staples, to how to arrange various forms and how to group the forms together. Do not assume that just because a form is somewhere in the pile, they'll find it. They might (anything is possible, after all), but I wouldn't count on it.

- Answer and satisfy the requirements of each form independently, apart from other forms -- don't assume that just because one form calls for a copy of your birth certificate, and another form does the same, one copy will do for both. It might, but then again IT MIGHT NOT. Are you really willing to take a chance on that, knowing that it could ultimately DELAY the already lengthy processing of your application? Put down the 5 cents and find yourself a copier.

- Finally, it pays to have a lawyer, but only if this lawyer is a good one. A stupid, ignorant, or misinformed lawyer is likely to do more harm than good. I've heard the horror stories. If you don't have a lawyer, just keep an ear out for updates as they come with astonishing frequency. (I've heard that in the USCIS, the speed of updates is inversely proportional to processing times.)

Oh, and good luck.

Job-Starved

I NEED/WANT/AM-DESPERATE-FOR a JOB. (Who would have thought?)

Right now, I can't even get temp work, and that's really, really sad. No stringing, no personal assisting, no random freelancing, no nothing. Ideally I'd like something permanent, with medical and dental benefits, but right now just an ordinary paycheck will do. Please, someone employ me already!

To take a sentence from Joey, I think I have joined the ranks of the hyper-educated and unemployable. It's not that I'm under-qualified. (I have a college degree. I'm a semester away from being getting a Masters. I've got stuff published. I've taught. I've succesfully conducted writing workshops. I was even a merit scholar, damnit.) It's probably just that I have no freakin' idea what it is exactly that I'm qualified for!

Anyone hiring in the New York area?

Please?

Imelda

If you ever get the chance to see Ramona Diaz's documentary on Imelda, go see it. It's a fascinating look into the dangerous delusions of an admittedly "charming" woman. Watching it, you realize that in her mind, she never did anything wrong. One of the reviews put it quite aptly: "she lacks the consience necessary for a crisis of conscience". She's certifiable. Listen to her, and you will not need further proof. She is her own best evidence against herself.

It was entertaining, funnily so. But very sad too, especially as a Filipino. As most of the reviewers said, she is so far removed from reality that she has even developed her own brand of logic and sense. And her own unique ideology (based on the one thing she idealizes -- vanity)is something you should hear for yourselves. It's sure to have most people shaking their heads and laughing in utter disbelief.

Read the reviews (you might have to scroll down) here, here, and here.

I had no idea she talked like that! You should really hear her get started on her own, umm, notions on the structure of life. Those particular scenes are priceless. There's her "Seven Portals to Peace and Order" that involves binaries and apples and the cosmos. Then there's her saying that she is both star and slave because she must enslave hersel to be a star. And then in another scene she explains that she built a grotesquely expensive mansion in her hometown, amidst shacks and very modest homes, because she thought that they needed someone to elevate them. And you should really listen to her musings on how an incomplete man is really a pacman. With matching drawings to boot. Just go see it. And read the reviews.

We watched Napoleon Dynamite too, btw, which was cute. It won a couple of awards at Sundance or something -- sorry too lazy to check the facts.

Oh and we finally got to try the food at Dragonfly yesterday. It was a true blue Southeast Asian restaurant, but it was also a good hangout spot. We had a couple of beers with Ella and Pat there before the Imeldific movie. They (sensibly) veered away from the traditional exotic/native decor and went with something a little more edgy and urban - red couches, a bar, aquariums, silver walls. If I didn't know beforehand that they served Asian fare (and full dinners), I would have immediately classified it as just another cool (and pricey?) downtown bar.

The Kare-Kare was good. John had pancit palabok. The white waiter even got all the words right. What I found weird is that althouth they had a Filipino food insert in the menu, making it the most well-represented cuisine in the place, I didn't come across any Filipinos in the staff. And it isn't owned by a Filipino either. Interesting. The food's authentic though... well, as authentic as it's probably going get in the city. I mean even the bagoong was real!

Exercise

John and I have been going jogging every other day this past week (yes, really), but last night he added a little twist. He wanted me to shoot some baskets with him. Yes, you heard right. Shoot some baskets. If you know me, even in the slightest, you know how impossible this whole thing would be, usually. This is the girl who got herself excused from PE - several times. This is the girl who WOULD NOT hold a ball to save her own life. This is a girl who doesn't even like walking across the court when people are playing on it.

My pleas (but I can't play) and my excuses (but I'm too short!) fell on deaf ears, and I eventually found myself with a ball in my hands, poised to shoot, with actual concentration. He stands as the ONLY person who has ever made me even contemplate stepping on to the court with even a modicum of desire to play.

Upon reflection, I think I did it because he's the only person who actually sincerely wanted me to give it a try. I knew he wouldn't laugh (even as I laughed at myself), he didn't seem embarrassed by my non-existent athletic prowess (I was), and he was really and truly encouraging.

I sucked of course (John says 2 out of 16). It was the first time I've ever actually held a ball with the intention of shooting it, so cut me some slack. It wasn't so bad though, even if there were no girls playing and I felt as awkward as I probably looked. I might even do it again. Hay. We live in such a weird world, don't you think?

Gmail

I have a hot and much-wanted Gmail account up for grabs. Actually have six, but I'm selling the others. If you want it, email me and tell me why I should give it to you.

Pinoy food

BTW, to all the Pinoy food lovers here in NY, you now have an alternative to the dinky (but satisfying) 1st ave joints and the scanty menu of Cendrillon. Try Dragonfly, at 7th Ave between Bleeker and Morton. They serve Southeast Asian food (their menu says they have dishes from Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore. Hongkong, the Philippines, Thailand and China), and they have abunch of Filipino specialties like Sinigang na Sugpo and Kare-Kare. I hear the scene's pretty good, the ambience is nice, and they have a really good bar. John and I are going to check it out on Friday. We'll let you know.

Incoherence

Incoherent. Yes, once again, you may skip.

I hate it when people state the obvious. “Oy, naka-jacket ka?” “Ang taas ng araw.” Yes, we know, we can actually see for ourselves. These statements are usually followed by the sarcastic, “Hindi nga?” In Manila, at least.

I hate it all the more because I’ve caught myself doing exactly this quite a few number of times. In everyday speech, in classes, even in this blog. It annoys me more than I can tell you, and yet it just slips and there’s no way I can coax it back inside my mouth. I almost see it dance around people’s ears, disguising itself as a doorway for conversation. Most topics that drop from this bogus opening usually fall on their faces. I know, I’ve been an idle witness for some time. Idle not because I like it, not because I’m apathetic, but simply because there’s nothing more I can do.

Really, it’s an excuse, isn’t it? A way to cover up the gaps, the empty space where truth, contempt, anxiety reside in turns.

I promised myself to try not to do it anymore. It hasn’t been easy. Not stating the obvious means you are left to do two things: be silent, or dig deeper. (There, I’ve done it again, and I just promised I wouldn’t.)

Silence is not as easy as we would have ourselves believe. There is the insolent, cold kind of silence, which is not really silent at all. The air becomes thick, noisy with words not said, thoughts not uttered, hovering. The silence drains from us, becomes its own barrier. But it takes too much to construct and keep up. And it cracks, shatters, sometimes on us, sometimes we break it ourselves.

Then there is the silence of intimacy. Yet, when too much has been pulled back, too much lying bare, we rush to cover, distract, detract. It’s human nature. We don’t like being naked.

So let’s dig deeper. And yet, digging deeper isn’t easy either. It requires thinking, caring, listening – things we find too time-consuming, unless they suit our own purposes.

No, I don’t know exactly what it is I’m driving at either. When I find out I’ll tell you. Or not. I guess I just want to tell you that I don’t like it either. Justifying myself to you, my dear boys and girls. (Why I have the desire to do that, I have no idea.) I’m working on it. Maybe.

Harry Potter

We went to see the latest installment of Harry Potter on Friday night. It was fun. It was nice to see the actors (literally) growing up with the characters.

The night started with me going to Brooklyn to meet John at his workplace. We then headed to Union Square to get the tickets (for 10:40 pm) that I had already bought over the internet. Good thing I got them online too, because they were almost sold out of HP tickets when we got there, with the only available show being at 1 something.

We walked around for a bit. We had dinner reservations at Cafe Asean with Rishi and Jubie at 8pm, who were also going to watch the movie with us. We walked in the little cozy restaurant a little before 8. It kind of has a hole-in-the-wall, provincial, beach vibe to it. The maitre d' (or the guy who acted like him anyway)reminded me of the conyo gays in Manila. He even had the accent. (He's Malaysian, btw. I asked.)

The decor was rustic/exotic, something to which I'm quite partial. I liked the candles hanging from the ceiling, although even I had to admit that they posed some danger to reckless dinner guests. The food was okay. Not stunning, but satisfying in a disguised average (social climbing?) way. We got a bottle of Australian Shiraz to drink with everything. Went to Pressure at University Place for before-movie/after-dinner drinks. Good night, over all.

On Saturday we saw (finally) Shrek 2. It was incredibly funny. If you've seen it, then I don't have to say anything. If you haven't, then I really can't say anything you'll understand. So just go watch the damn movie, and keep an eye (and an ear) out for the little details.

I've got a better post brewing in my head, but now is not the time.

Interviews and such

Had an interview yesterday for an editorial assistant position. The company prints out two magazines, Vellum ("Beauty Uncensored") and Picture ("The Magazine for the Emerging Professional Photographer"). Both were nicely done but too image-heavy for me. After talking to the owner/editor-in-chief for a while, I decided that it wasn't really what I was looking for. I'm a writer, after all, and in a setting like that, how often would I really be able to write?

So back to Square One. More interviews to come. Still have a couple of things lined up, but I don't want to go into details because I don't want to jinx it (and I guess I'm a teeny bit superstitious like that). We'll see how everything goes.

Got my Writer's Market and my Novel and Short Story Writer's Market in the mail yesterday. Wow, they're incredibly thick and just a little intimidating. So much information to absorb! They have publishers, agents, contests, everything!

Have to go to the drycleaners today as well. My nice white pants got ruined in the rain last night, and I need to get my suit cleaned and pressed.

And I'm off to school.