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And you call yourself a UPian.

My throat hurts, my head is really throbbing in pain, but I stop and write this blog entry.

I just came home from the UAAP season 70 opening, and I have to admit I am very tired. But I need to write this. I need to write this.

To all you UPians out there: Do not call yourselves UPians if YOU do not have faith in the basketball team (or for any team for that matter), if YOU do not believe in them. You do not deserve that name.

I came to Araneta this day with every shred of me believing that UP will win. UP will beat La Salle and win. Even if I sat there, looking at the 16- or 20-point deficit, I did not doubt the Maroons.

Yes, for others I may be dreaming. You should tell me that I should be a little bit realistic, but no. That I should have entered Araneta and not give myself false hope na "Ay, mananalo ang UP." I should have thought that they would lose, but at a closer margin. Obviously, I didn't. And yes, maybe I am disappointed. But still, I know that every single one of those guys donning the UP Fighting Maroons jersey is capable of lifting the team up and making them win.

Think about this: Every single one of those players wearing that UP jersey and playing for what YOU call your alma mater isn’t getting compensated or getting even a third of what the players of La Salle or Ateneo or UST gets every semester, much more in a month. Every single one of those players wearing that UP jersey and playing for what YOU call your alma mater don’t eat in a lavish restaurant after practices, some of them hang out and eat dinner at Lutong Bahay. Every single one of those players wearing that UP jersey and playing for what YOU call your alma mater sometimes eat nothing after practice, do not have the luxury of having any “scientific” training (unlike other schools), and maybe do not have a dietician who watches what they eat.

Every single one of those players wearing that UP jersey and playing for what YOU call your alma mater is there on the floor on sheer determination, sheer dedication… and YOU—YOU who call yourself a UPian—put them down with your words and actions.

(I even heard that there are some UPians who took off their shirts because of the loss.)

You know what frustrates me and hurts me?

These guys are just simple people who love basketball. These are talented guys, and they are already being put down by other people. Don’t you think it hurts them much more kung mismong sa mga kapwa nila taga-UP naririnig ang mga masasakit na salita? Wag ka nalang manood kaya nung game kung ang mindset mo naman pagpunta mo dun eh: “Ilang points kaya ang talo nila?”

Sinasabi ko na sayo, hindi kailangan ng Maroons ang cheer mo kung sa loob-loob mo rin naman eh hindi ka rin naniniwala sa kanila. Hindi nila kailangan ng isang taong hindi naman pala naniniwala sa kanila. Kung ganyan ang pag-iisip mo, sa kabilang side ka nalang kaya umupo para lagi kang natutuwa na nanalo sila? Tapos pag nanalo sila, ikaw ang pinakaunang andyan to brag about it.

Bravo.

Ika nga ni Wendy: Best Actress (Actor) in a Pretending Role.

Yes. They may not be playing well. We don’t have imports or “foreign-born” players unlike La Salle or Ateneo. We do not have a nicer gym or facilities that may help our players improve. We may not have funds to make these players go to Canada and play only two games just to lose (at least we didn’t go all the way there just to lose. Haha.). We do not have all the luxuries other teams may have. And for a team who lacks funds to give them a better athletic system and the resources to entice those ‘foreign-born players’ to play for us, our guys are holding up pretty well.

I love the UP Fighting Maroons, and even if they lose to whoever team or whatever team by ten or twenty or thirty, I’d still wear my UP shirt, carry around my UP Number One styro hand (courtesy of Samsung) or wave my UP bandanna (courtesy of Astring-O-Sol) and proud to be a UPian. Proud to be a Maroon.

And to every single UP Fighting Maroon—Migs de Asis, Mike Gamboa, Vicmel Epres, Martin Reyes, Dexter Rosales, Mark Lopez, Soc Rivera, Dioboy Hipolito, Magi Sison, Woody Co, Jayfelson Agbayani, VJ Serios, Julius Wong, and to whoever else I may have forgotten (and for that I am deeply sorry)—PROVE THEM WRONG.

This coming Thursday, even if I won’t be there to watch, I’d still believe that the UP Fighting Maroons will beat Ateneo Blue Eagles. I don’t care if Chris Tiu’s there or if Kirk Long’s playing.

Ika nga naman ng Ateneo: Win or lose, it’s the school we choose.

Win or lose, nasa likuran pa rin ako ng mga Fighting Maroons.

Eh ikaw?

*I wrote this entry because I am very angry, and I am crying because of it. Hindi ko malabas kung gaano kasakit for me to see and hear people—UPians at that—put the team down. (A voice inside you will say: “Eh sila naman eh. They’re putting UPians down.”) No. And what’s more is that walang depensa ung team sa mga pinagsasasabi ng mga tao. Magalit na kayo kung magalit sa akin, I don’t care. 

Special Team, Special Time

“That’s why it hurts so bad. This is a special team, and it was supposed to be our special time.” –Macky Escalona

Tell me to get over Ateneo losing to UST last season. I just couldn’t.

While I was fixing the articles I had over the course of two or three years of basketball addiction (baseball addiction came only a year later, thanks to Ate Faye), I saw what I had in my mini-collection: the La Salle ineligibility controversy (And now it’s happening to PCU. What the hell is happening to the world?), UP’s UAAP games, the Ginebra blockbuster trade, the half a mil fine on the Red Bull Barakos for having a semi-walkout during one of their games, the mini-articles that I had every after game days. I also had a transcript of Mark Caguioa’s chat with his fans (thanks Cherine), and pictures of Joseph Yeo (courtesy of Cobie, yey!). The number of pictures in my basketball folder is outnumbering my personal pictures, but who the hell cares?

“This is a special team, and it was supposed to be our special time.”

Aah. The pain.

The pain of losing.

I wonder what the Dallas Mavericks and the Miami Heat now think of their own teams, having lost their respective playoff assignments. Weird. They were the Western and Eastern Champions respectively, and Miami was the champion.

Why did they lose?

I don’t know, but I was rooting for Golden State Warriors and the Chicago Bulls kasi eh, so it doesn’t matter to me. I am just in the process of wondering how they are feeling, because I know it’s almost too painful.

I wish the Yankees would do good in their next few games.

I sure damn wish they do, and welcome to Roger Clemens, their new pitcher who’s being paid $4 million dollars a month. (Sarap maging kamag-anak, ano? Haha.) Either way, any baseball player should be a nice relative—that is, considering their paycheck *insert evil grin here*.

We Believe.

(Thanks Kev for informing me. Sorry din if I’m super kulit, ha?)

Anyway, since I’ve got a paper in aero-dance and NatSci1 to deal with yesterday, I didn’t have the chance to catch the Game 6 in the Golden State Warriors-Dallas Mavericks series, but I had Kevin text me whoever wins. And then right in the middle of my trip to SM North on my way home, he sent me this message: “panalo gs, 111-86.”

And I swear, ask the dude seated across me inside the jeep. I shouted “Yes!” as if I was the one who won the game, or as if I was there to actually witness them winning.

And this morning—while watching the Toronto Raptors fall to the New Jersey Nets (I am rooting for Toronto *sigh*)—I saw clips from yesterday’s game and saw GS fans waving banners and having t-shirts on with “We believe” printed on them.

And yes, we believe.

It was the third time, I think, that the eighth-seeded team beat the top-seed, and it was fun to see an upset. (Well, if you’re for Golden State, that is.) I rooted for Golden State because (1) this time I am going for the underdogs; (2) I didn’t like the Mavericks for they eliminated the Phoenix Suns last season in the second round playoffs; (3) I didn’t like the smug look on Dirk Nowitski’s face; (4) because of Baron Davis, who is, by the way, Mark Caguioa’s fave player from what I know; and (5) just because I wanted a new team to be known and to be there… just there for people to see.

And although they are reminiscent of UST (for their fans were wearing golden yellow like the UST crowd was when they bagged the championship versus Ateneo—forgive me, I just couldn’t get over it) not only because of the colors but also because of their Cinderella-like finish, much like what was attributed to UST back then. They were the eight-seed after all, and no kidding: Dallas owns the best win-loss record in the NBA, and for you to beat them in a 4-2 best-of-seven series?

That’s saying something.

And I’ve always wanted to see an upset.

Golden State.

Go.

I wish you’d beat out whoever comes out of the Houston-Utah series as well.

–

I watched Joseph Yeo play yesterday (that’s Friday) in the Coke versus Purefoods game, and I actually was shocked when he played in the first half. I was exhilarated, I was happy, flabbergasted, excited… and whatever else happy adjective I could place here.

And even though he didn’t score, I think he had one assist and a steal, and that’s good enough for me.

At least I still know he’s there, if you know what I mean.

Thursday night, I was out of things to do, so I came across my newspaper clippings and leafed through them. I actually was thinking of what is a nice way to compile them, because I swear I don’t want rats to mistake them for dinner. And then I saw those clippings I had from… last year, before Joseph got drafted into the pros.

Yes, I am talking about the Harbour Centre stint he had, and the championship. After all, he won that Game Five for his team.

I remember, they were the lowest-seed ever to win a championship, and it’s what I want to happen for the Golden State. (Well, part of me. Of course I am still a Phoenix Suns fan first and foremost, so if Golden State meets Phoenix Suns in one way or another, I guess I’ll have to be at the Phoenix side.)

Wedding Bells

(I wrote this sometime in December that I didn’t get to post in my last blog because I wasn’t updating it around that time. December 17, from what I know.)

Amazingly, for a girl who doesn’t want to get married when I come of age, I’ve been thinking about how my marriage would be one day.

This morning, while I was at the church with my mom, we witnessed a couple getting married. And all throughout the wedding ceremony—it was pretty short, I think the couple didn’t have much budget—I was thinking and imagining how my wedding would be.

The wedding I witnessed this morning was pretty much in a tight budget: no flowers down the aisle, the secondary sponsors were in different gowns, the gowns weren’t pretty much coordinated, and all. The bride and groom both looked like they’ve just turned 18. There were TWELVE pairs of principal sponsors—my mom was saying it made the marriage looked like a business—and there wasn’t much synchronization when it came to the candle, veil and cord part. It was, for me, a sort of impersonal wedding.

As for MY wedding, let’s start with the venue first. Like Mandy Moore in A Walk to Remember, I want to get married where my mom and dad got married. (And apparently, that was the same place where Aga Muhlach and Charlene Gonzales got married.) My mom and I compared aisles. She reckons St. Joseph (in Baguio) has a longer aisle than Manila Cathedral—I have yet to see both—and she smiled at me when I told her I wanted to walk down the longest aisle, with flower girls dressed like fairies are throwing petals gently down the red carpet as I walk.

Flowers. I want my wedding to be flower-ful. The aisles, the groomsmen, the bridesmaid, the bridal car, the seats… everything has to be flower-ful. I want them imported from someplace, somewhere where they grow pretty flowers, for the want of a better word to describe it. I want roses… BLUE roses. Not the artificial ones where they just spray the blue dye all over the white roses. I want those “genetically modified” to be blue. Or maybe green. My mom suggested aquamarine, and I might just consider.

See me dreaming too far?

I’m not yet done.

Gown. I want my gown to have the longest train ever. I want my bridesmaids’ gowns and everybody’s gowns—especially my mom’s—to be perfect. I want them designed by the BEST designer ever here in the Philippines. I want mine to be sexy and conservative all at the same time. The guys—and especially my groom—should wear coat and tie. But my soon-to-be-husband’s should be the best of all the coat and tie there. I want him to be handsome, and me… beautiful. I want the day to be perfect.

Everybody should be oriented on how the ceremony should go. I don’t want my wedding day to be on a Sunday. I want it to be private, only around fifty people invited. I want the priest to be someone close to both me and my soon-to-be, and… I want personal vows to be given. Ayoko ng superficial na “through death do us part” na sobrang gasgas na. Para may effort naman.

I want love on my wedding day—and the days and years after that. I want my groom to love me and see me as something he couldn’t let go, and I wouldn’t let go of him either.

Maybe I’m thinking all about this because I want love now.

For someone who’ll really love me, even just for a moment or two, to come.

But still, that doesn’t… change the way I feel about getting married. I just want someone who’ll make me feel loved… kahit sandali lang.

One Tree Hill Overload

I was watching One Tree Hill for the second time in three hours the other night. And I really don’t know why I love One Tree Hill.

I want to be Brooke Davis. And I want to find my Lucas Scott.

I remember Kuya Tupee asking me once before: If you were a character in OTH, who would you be and why?

I answered: I want to be Brooke. And I really don’t care about her slutty before she met Lucas, but I want to be her, because I can relate to her.

And I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve cried just because of this TV series.

“Don’t worry. We’re just friends.”

How could just one damn line make me cry?

Brooke and Lucas. At the start of the whole series, I wouldn’t have thought Luc would’ve fallen head-over-heels in love with the cheerleader-con-flirt of OTH. But then again, come to think of it, he hadn’t really realized how much he loved her not after he cheated on her. And that’s how Brooke changed for good.

And I love the Brooke that she is now.

Her parents are broke.

Maybe a tad bit just like mine.

And you know… maybe I’d also give anything just to have the closeness of Luc and his half-brother Nathan. I wish my brother and I are close.

I wish.

Argh.

And I still love Chad Michael Murray’s eyes.

Brooke: If we (Luc and her) didn’t make it as a couple last time, what makes you think it’s gonna work this time?

Peyton (her best friend): Well for one thing, I wouldn’t make out with him this time—

Brooke: uhhuh.

Peyton: Uhhuh. And besides, he’s a different guy now. And you’re different too.

Damn.

I need to stop this, you know. Self-pity.

Damn. How could people stay friends after they’ve been lovers?

Well, Andrei and I stayed friends, but… I don’t really consider him as one of those ‘serious’ boyfriends. (As if I already had many.)

[No offense meant to Andrei, but we both know we were young back then. Come on.]

How?

Reminiscing Ginebra’s Philippine Cup Championship

[Since I was in a bit of tamad mode to write new entries—and man, these were the entries I wrote before that I never got to upload, so I have to give it justice—I am uploading some of the entries I wrote back in February, the latter part of it, during the Finals of the PBA Phil Cup. Bear with me. Bear with the addict in me. ]

Anyway, congratulations to Mark Caguioa of the Barangay Ginebra Kings for FINALLY (and I mean it) winning an individual award this 2006-2007 PBA Philippine Cup: Best Player of the Conference. Yey!

And I also know it may sound silly, but when they announced that it was he who won it, I was jumping up and down my room, as if I was the one who actually won it.

I’m in mass communication, right?

And I am fully aware of the power of media, and the influence it has on things.

I used to hate the PBA Press Corps for giving Mark Caguioa what (I think) is due him, and maybe all the bitterness Caguioa is taking out shook them. Naawa na rin siguro kasi ilang conference nang umaasa yung tao. Come on, how many conferences na ba na he’s leading in stat points tapos he’ll only flop in media votes? Yeah, maybe he just wouldn’t care about what the media says about him. Sabi nga niya, he wouldn’t make an effort to kiss the media’s ass. He knows he’s good, so why bother?

Haha. Malamang deep inside, nabubuwisit na rin yun kasi, kahit napapansin nga ang efforts niya, hindi naibibigay yung one thing na every (sane) player wants: a Best Player of the Conference award or a Most Valuable Player award.

But maybe he has opened his mind to the sheer possibility (and likelihood) that the media just wouldn’t… give it to him.

Yey for him.

And he didn’t flop last night. He’s got around 20+ points (I didn’t know if he reached 30. In my count, he did, but in the television, I don’t think he did.), some assists and some rebounds. (Sorry, I still don’t have the exact number. I think it was 7 assists.)

Go Mark Caguioa! Hehehe.

(Am I pathetic?)

I hated Ginebra when they lost Game One, which I watched live by the way. I hated Rafi Reavis even more when he flopped on the free throws, and must have cursed him to hell when he muffed the three-pointer (JUST WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?). And now Ginebra pulls off two—convincing, I might say—wins over San Miguel: a 131-101 and a 146-111 one. (Pretty high scoring, don’t you think? Talo pa ang NBA.)

I’m writing this down because I know nobody would listen to me. (And most probably I turned you guys off with this whole basketball thing.)

Ginebra wins it—and wins it in fashion

What more could you ask for? A heart-stopping, jaw-dropping finale of the 32^nd season of the Philippine Basketball Association’s Talk ‘n Text Philippine Cup.

Right now, I am really just overwhelmed by the emotion of seeing my favorite team win. And it’s not just that.

I feel for Mark.

(And yes, I know you know that I have a very weird attachment to this player, and you should know why.)

He was crying, and the whole time that the ABC Sports courtside reporter was talking to him? I was crying. I was… I felt his pain. I felt the fatigue. And maybe when Ginebra won tonight? It was something that… I know I wanted, not for me, but for them. Mark Caguioa needed to prove himself, and prove himself he did.

Game One was a blowout game, for San Miguel, that is. Game Two was closer one; and again, screw Rafi for that two flubbed free throws and the muffed three-pointer. Game Three and Four were absolute blowouts: 30-pt and 35-pt wins, respectively. Game Five was a more respectable loss for San Miguel in terms of they only lost by around ten points instead of 30. And Game Six was the ultimate heart-stopper.

I don’t care what you guys say, but I guess when I was there alone in my boarding house’s living room, I must have prayed a hundred prayers.

Is this Dallas Mavericks-Miami Heat, the repeat?

For those of you who don’t know, Dallas Mavericks opened last season’s NBA Finals with a 2-0 lead and then muffed the next four, “handing” Miami Heat the championship.

And Game Six?

It was a close one as well, decided by Dwayne Wade’s free throws, as much as the Game Six of PBA was decided by Jayjay Helterbrand’s free throws.

Okay. For one, I have to scream, holler and shout at Jayjay and Mark for forgetting their “better halves” in their thank you speeches. I don’t know why, but it irritated me that you guys forgot the women who stayed by your sides and watched games live (I wish I was one of them. Hahaha.) I didn’t hear any “Lauren” or “Charlotte” in your speeches, and poof…

Rudy Hatfield’s speech was… for the most part, unintelligible because he was half-eating half-shouting his words, but I deduced it was a nice, and spit-ful one. Hehe. (Kawawa ang microphone ng ABC Sports ) Eric Menk was totally hot, and… what else?

Congrats to Johnny A.

(I didn’t know Ronald Tubid was married already.)

Thank you, Ginebra for an exciting series.

Thank you, Mark Caguioa for the emotions you’ve caused me. hehehe. for the clutch baskets and for the energy… the “spark”… and the heart.

Thanks Jayjay Helterbrand for the assists, the TWO ALL-IMPORTANT FREETHROWS THAT WON THE MATCH, and for your… cute smile. Hahaha.

Thanks to Rudy Hatfield for the heart… the offensive rebounds and the three-point plays. For your “warrior” presence.

To Johnny Abarrientos, the steals champ, thanks for the running game, the steals and the rebounds that aren’t really expected for a guy your size. But thank you, just the same.

To Eric Menk: Though you sat out most of the series, I have to admit when you came back, Ginebra sprung back to life. And yes, I might say, you are one MAJOR PAIN. go eric. I hope you get your game back.

To Rafi Reavis: Sorry for cussing at you for muffing those two free throws and the three-pointer, and… thanks for redeeming yourself in Game Three. (hahah.) for being a defensive player… thanks.

To Billy Mamaril: Though I never really liked you in Game Six because you missed the free throws, okay lang, kasi nag-champion naman na kayo. Hehehe.

To Sunday Salvacion: waah. Mr. Clutch Basket. Where’s Rodney Santos now, huh? (am kidding) anyway, thanks for the life-saving and life-sustaining three-pointers that you’ve drained throughout the season, and I’m looking forward to more.

To Mark Macapagal: For the cuteness. Hahaha. (Joke) for the three-pointers and defensive stops. Though I would’ve wanted you to have really just played it out and have more minutes on the floor, I have to admit Ronald Tubid has more intensity and firepower. Don’t worry, you’re still the “FIERY.”

To Mr. Fearless, Ronald Tubid: I hate your sniggers and smirks, but love your drawing of offensive fouls. Bring in the firepower, and thanks.

To Andy Siegle: For the smiles you bring to the Ginebra fans every time you enter the ball game (which is not often, I tell you), thanks.

Mike Holper: the ever cute sophomore. You bring intensity, you know that? Hope you were used more, though.

To Coach Jong Uichico: salamat sa championship! Marami pa ha?

Okay. This is the end of the reminiscing. Hehe. ayan ha. Happiness. Finally I got these entries out, and I am still feeling that feeling I felt when I wrote these articles. I’m still happy for Ginebra, and I’d always be. Promise, I’d have to admit that I somehow doubted that they could still make it where they are now in the present conference because most of their key players are either loaned to the RP team, injured or plainly just not there (Yes, that’s you, Rudy. I know it’s cornball romantic to be there for your soon-to-be, but you have a job to do.).

But then again, they’re not Ginebra if they just drop down and die.

Never say die.

Mag-aaral na ako! (Hirap naman kasing mag-aral para sa isang exam na alam mong multiple choice, diba.)

Who is Barangay Ginebra Kings’ Most Valuable Player and why?

I was watching Hardball before, hosted by Bill Velasco, Jinno Rufino and Boyet Sison, and this was their question, way before the wildcard phase of last conference started. (See how outdated this entry is?)

Of course, off the bat I would answer: MARK CAGUIOA—and you do know I am biased.

Bill Velasco pointed out that Mark COULD be the MVP “if you need points in a hurry.” Boyet Sison said that Rudy Hatfield provides the intensity on- and off-court, and since I am in love right now with his eyes (and I just noticed it last night), I would also seriously consider calling up the show right now (if I was in Manila) and answer their question.

(Okay. Where is Rudy Hatfield? From what I heard, he promised that he’d take Ginebra to the championship even without Mark and Jayjay and Rafi, but then again… where is he? I mean, I understand that he needs to be with his soon-to-be, but… I don’t know. *shrug*)

I’d list the Brgy. Ginebra players from memory (last conference): Jayjay Helterbrand, Mark Caguioa, Eric Menk, Rafi Reavis, Rudy Hatfield, Sunday Salvacion, Mark Macapagal, Mike Holper, Andy Seigle, Billy Mamaril, Ronald Tubid, and Johnny Abarientos. Partida pa yan kasi injured si Rodney Santos, but I heard he’ll be back come semis time. You also have Gec Chia and Paolo Hubalde back there sitting behind the bench. (Congrats to Gecgec! Yey. You doing a good job this conference, man.) Then on the coaching staff you’ve got Coach Jong Uichico, and Siot Tanquincen (before he was shipped to San Miguel. Pahirap sa buhay, sana nagpalit nalang talaga sila diba?) to back him up.

Did I say star-studded?

Yeah.

As they say, Ginebra looks good on paper, but it’s different when you also look good on court. And surprise, surprise, they started with a blasting 3-0 run tied with Sta. Lucia, and then Red Bull (argh) dealt with them their first loss and they strung up some more loss(es)—can’t remember, sorry—and bam! Seven-game win streak. 13-4 win-loss card.

“It’s a coach’s dream to have a team like this… and for Coach Jong to NOT win a championship with a team like this…”

And win the championship they did.

for regine (pictures galore)

dahil hindi ata makuha ang pictures for some reason from this blog, i'll insert them in hopes that Regine could copy it this time. hehehe.

isaw trip part 1, sa may harap to ng ilang. after ng masterful film debut ni angelo.

isaw trip part two.

isaw trip part three.

 BABALA: ang mga sumusunod na mga litrato ay mula sa madugong paggawa ng paper namin sa cres115. (nyek)

sa kawalan ng ginagawa. *sigh*

masyadong seryoso si regine, tingin niyo?

produkto ng aming dugo't pawis. (eek.)

ang madugong spss data file.

yey. hope nakopya niyo na this time around.

Batch 04-05

I’m left here holding nothing but my memories and I don’t know if my memories are true. – Ally McBeal

Call me ungrateful or anything close to that but I never really returned to my high school after my graduation. Hell, my last day there was on the day of our graduation, and I never came back. I have always thought some of the things that happened to me there—especially during my senior year—had hurt me so much beyond repair that I never wanted to come back.

There was a point in time when I don’t remember anything about my last two years in high school, just the prom and the graduation. Nothing else in between. Every time a batch mate would message me and tell me something that he or she missed back in high school, I simply just couldn’t share the sentiment for I couldn’t remember both the feeling and the memory itself, and I hated myself for that. I cried myself to sleep for countless of nights during my first two years in college for I simply just couldn’t remember; I wanted to come back but I’m scared of what coming back would do to me.

And for some weird reason I felt the urge of writing something about the batch that took me in (I was a transferee), about the batch that made high school a bit more exciting and happy—and I wanted to tell them that no matter what, I wouldn’t want to have it otherwise.

I used to remember my first day in my new school as the day when I saw two of the most gorgeous guys ever in my life (that was before I met basketball and the players): Kevin and Caloy (not Caloy-college, okay? For clarity’s sake, I’d call Caloy-high school “Gian”). Kevin has the most wonderful smile, the killer smile, that Close Up smile. Gian was the soft-spoken guy who had girls woo over him for he was simply that: the perfect gentleman and the nicest guy, pero nasa loob ang kulo. Gian and Kev were part of these barkada (Most of them heartthrobs, class clowns, mga pasaway, and all that. Very nice blend, if you ask me.) that was most influential, and they had a girl-group counterpart that is equally flashy, beautiful and influential.

I was never a part of that group, but I’d like to think that I was at one point in time. Bianca and Leah (a.k.a. Meh) are the most fabulous girls that I’ve ever met, and I’ve always wished I had gotten close to them earlier. But of course we moved in different social circles, and I was more of a part of a floating barkada—either that or we had a barkada of our own. I never really got to know that. But if there is Jesy, you’d better be sure I’m there as well. She was my best friend, the same best friend I pushed away when he hurt me (see Three Days Ago)—or should I say, I hurt myself with him?

Koko, Anjelyn, Gia, Marian, Tasha, Lea, Lyn, Maita, Ellaine, Shylla, Rowel, Rachelle, Rhea, Avonne, Grace, Mica, Amanda, and Ed—one full house group. Lotsa fun and lotsa talk in this one. Missed them lots.

JD, Doc, Bry, Nero, Gian, Vince, John, Robbi (my promdate), Kevin, Tolits, Migs, Kitoy, Amboy, Nikko, Aron, Kester, Daniel, Erico, Christian and Jelo—collectively known as “Okokx.” There is one weird etymology to that word, and from what I know, it was derived from the sound of drinking beer, the ulk ulk sound you hear when you gulp down anything liquid. They loved to drink from what I know, and judging from the video JD or Nikko made in their very own Friendster account, their sponsor is Red Horse and Marlboro Red.

And then another boy group: Justin, Magalong, Ronnie, Owen, DJ, Hurgo, Jose Ong, JM, Jasper, Joey (ex-Okokx), AJ, Nowen, Nowie, Ian, Andren, Bonix, Ellison, Kenji, Victor and Sytu—most of the dudes in this group are either Senior Boy Scouts and math geniuses or just plainly genius. They’re the ones who usually stay behind in the classrooms to play chess while Okokx guys go down and eat their hearts out or go girl watching (If they are girls to watch. From what I remember, the only students who have lunch breaks at our slot were just us.) or make tambay outside the room playing a plethora of Parokya ni Edgar songs.

The Okokx girl counterpart group (they don’t drink and smoke like these guys do, they’re just one of the major groups in the batch): Bianca, Meh, G, DA, Bei, Pau, Khat, Tat, Dhi, Karen, Joyee, Karess, Nicka, Issa, Tasha, Tsarm.

And then there’s me and Jesy. We’re more like the floaters. We could go with either barkada, Koko’s or Bianca’s. Call us flexible.

In every batch there is an outcast. And in ours, it’s Daphne.

And then there are those in our batch that went away: Ruth, Andren and Aiko.

I hope I mentioned all 78 in our batch (not including the ones that “went away”—to the States mostly).

Missed them.

Dude, kelan ang reunion?

Swimming!

Pass the Baton

      I realized while I was in the restroom washing my clothes that love is very much like a relay—yes, those guys who are passing on the baton to win the race. I don’t really know how I came to this conclusion and maybe I’ll be forcing it a bit, but try and listen.

I’ve given up way too many guys for the happiness of my friends and for their own happiness, and I used to joke that I was a recycle bin for after they throw ‘them’ away, I would pick them up and care for it, and when they want it back, I would willingly ‘restore’ them in their proper ‘places.’ I have passed on the baton far too many times to be able to win the relay, and I’ve always wondered if I could have just not given it up… if I could still have won the guy’s heart in the end.

I always end up losing myself.

But I’d rather not dwell on what ifs.

I was hurt, yes, when I gave them up, but I also know it was for the better. I knew they would be better off without me—or they’re better off if they weren’t with me. Not that they loved me the way I wanted them to. A friend of mine used to tell me that I was “always the best friend, never the girlfriend,” and I have always fitted that role for such a long time that guys treat me always as their barkada or little sister, and I fall in love with them and get nothing but friendly-friends love in return.

Funny how passing it off would do you bad.

It wouldn’t win the race for you all the time, for you are letting another person take on the responsibility of winning the race instead of winning it yourself.

What if you drop the baton in the middle of passing it on?

Who picks it up first?

I usually do the picking up part, and the brushing off the next in line would do.

They reap what I sow.

Damn it. What a martyr.

Pathetic me.

“Back then I kept saying that I didn’t want to fall in love ever again. However, no matter how hard and painful it was, I wanted to live that dream again, I wanted to love someone deeply.”

All-Stars

April 30, 2007 19:24

Yes, I didn’t watch it live, but still I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

I watched it on television, and I have to congratulate each and every PBA player who participated (like Eric Menk who came and danced even though he had an injury—his way of giving back to the fans who voted him into the South All-Stars) and especially those players who won.

First, to Willie Miller who won the obstacle challenge, a precarious second over Denok Miranda, I think. For Dondon Hontiveros, who won the three-point shootout over Willie Miller, Gary David and Mark Caguioa (and he’s griping about the media again. Tsk.). Then to the three-peat slam dunk king who hails from Tarlac, Niño “KG” Canaleta. Who else?

Oh. To the former-Coca-Cola-Tiger-now-turned-Sta.-Lucia-Realtor Denok Miranda for bagging the trickshot challenge over Ronald Tubid.

Whee.

And I am doing all of this from memory, okay?

To Dominic Uy (hot shooting, honey), Jayjay Helterbrand and the city councilor of La Union won the shooting stars challenge, go lang ng go guys. (Off night, Jayjay?)

Then to Dominic Uy again, Mark Macapagal and that dude from the Mayor’s office of Baguio who made the half-court shot, congratulations guys.

To the top three of the three-point shootout (Willie, Gary, and Dondon) who beat out the “legends” (which includes Pido Jarencio who shot a measly total of 6 points—eech. And you call yourself a shooting coach. Nice.—still haven’t forgiven him, I’m sorry.) in the three-point legends shootout, go guys.

And finally (insert deep breath here) to the North All-Stars: Mark Caguioa, Jayjay Helterbrand, John Arigo, Ranidel de Ocampo, Enrico Villanueva, Kerby Raymundo, Macmac Cardona, Willie Miller, Danny Ildefonso, Rommel Adducul, and Larry Fonacier.

Jayjay and Willie were co-All-Star MVPs.

Whee.

North won in a pretty much defensive game (insert sarcasm here). The score was 145-142, highest-scoring ever in the history of All-Stars.

Mark said with utter defiance that North would win the game, and then jokingly added that they would win “dahil andito ako.”

Oh diba. Ang level ng confidence ni Papa Mark.

That’s why he’s called The Spark.

:)

And how could I forget? The rookies won over the sophomores, burying them to be exact. Yey to Joseph Yeo, Arwind Santos, LA Tenorio, Mark Andaya, Aaron Aban, Jireh Ibañez and Jay-R Reyes (both former UP Maroons), and last but not the least Gabby Espinas.

And I hated Mico Halili (I’ve always loved him) at that moment when he continuously laughed and picked on Joseph about wearing the wrong color of jersey. Yes, he may be wrong, but he finally scored and played well—Arwind won’t be getting those freaking dunks that wowed the crowd if it wasn’t for his assists—and can’t you just appreciate that?

Grr.

Sorry. I hate everyone and anyone who is against and is saying bad things about Joseph Yeo. (And any basketball player I love for that matter.)

Love him that much.

Haha.

Three Days Ago (In poetic mode)

0703

I stole a glance and looked away.

I couldn’t watch.

I looked again and this time stared.

I froze.

You held her in your arms, not wanting to let her go.

Kissed her on the forehead and smiled at her.

She beamed at you, touched your face, your nose, your lips.

You kissed her fingertips and she smiled.

A tear rolled down my cheek

And I quickly wiped it away.

I couldn’t move—

I wanted to leave but I can’t.

You have always loved her—

And I have always waited.

Always waited.

Waited.

Hoped.

Wished that maybe some of that love would overflow for me.

Wished that you’d notice me.

Wished that each day it was more than just a glance, a smile that you give me.

Wished that I am the one in your arms, in your heart.

The one you dream of every night, the one you think of in your waking moments.

Wished I was the one.

But I am not.

I stole another glance.

You caught me.

You smiled and waved.

I waved back and turned.

I remembered this one song while Media Player is at random, the song “Three Days Ago” by Mario Winans. I have always loved its chorus: “Yesterday you said that we could get away/ day before I was alone like any other day/ three days ago I wrote this song for you/ will I ever get through/ to you.”

And I remembered someone.

I still can’t remember why I was crying last night. Maybe it was because of Bruce’s “This is what we have” line to Wendy (and when she opened her palm there was a pendant with the word “love” on it), or maybe it was because of the pain I saw in Wendy when Bruce finally left. It’s nice to see people fall in love, but it’s not nice seeing them go separate ways (not that Bruce won’t be coming back).

Or maybe because I felt the uncertainty, the fear when someone was leaving and you just don’t know why.

Yes, maybe I am still angry. Maybe I’m still bitter about it. About you and her. About everything. Why I was the one who has to say sorry when it was your fault all along—you were just too filled with pride, just like you always were, to admit you are at fault. I thought I had let go of all the anger I kept inside me for the past three years when I confessed to the priest about how angry I was at you, how much you’ve hurt me.

But some things just don’t go away.

It’s easy to forgive, but not forget.

I have always told my friends that it wasn’t the pain of finding out that it was she that you have loved all the while—it was the pain of the betrayal. The betrayal that you haven’t told me all along and you made me believe that I was the one you love. The betrayal that I was your best friend, and then I was the last one to find out about it. Your silly excuse? You thought I already knew.

Nice.

Or maybe I was just plainly stupid, don’t you think? Everyone is. Everyone is stupid when they fall in love, because every single shred of sanity flies out the window and you’re left with only your heart and the love you had to begin with.

Or maybe all I was looking for was the answers to all my questions—or maybe I don’t deserve any explanations.

The reason I haven’t trusted anyone for that matter after what happened, was because of you. I was scared to trust anyone because you betrayed me. You both betrayed me. And then what? Here I am, feeling happy for you guys. Maybe I’m really just a hard-on romantic that I couldn’t bear to turn away from you because I know that you really love her right now.

Yes. Do love her.

Love her at my own breaking heart’s expense.

Spark’s Fire

April 19, 2007 20:54

I think I could like you

I already do

Feelings can grow but

They can go away too

You're taking my hand

Looking into my eyes

Don’t be in a rush to

Get me tonight

Feel something happening

Could this be a spark?

To satisfy me baby

Gotta satisfy my heart

Do you know how to touch a girl?

If you want me so much

First I have to know

Are you thoughtful and kind?

Do you care what's on my mind?

Or am I just for show?

You’ll go far in this world

If you know how to touch a girl

Do you know how to touch, know how to touch a girl?

Do you know how to touch, know how to touch a girl?

I think I could like you

But I keep holding back

Coz I can't seem to tell

If you're fiction or fact

Show me you can laugh

Show me you can cry

Show me who you really are

Deep down inside

Do you feel something happening?

Could this be for real?

I don't know right now but tonight we'll reveal

Bring me some flowers

Conversation for hours

To see if we really connect

And baby if we do

Confusion.

April 19, 2007 19:08

I was there, alone at the corner of our high school. He came and told me we needed to talk, and I frowned, for I was sure as hell that ‘we’ don’t have anything to talk about. But I gave in. Just like I always do. I gave in.

He was, after all, at one point in time, one of the closest guys to me.

“I wanted to ask you this question for such a long time already,” he began. I couldn’t look at him, though—I was distracting myself with the manang who was selling French fries, squid balls and fish balls and kikiam, cheese sticks, and gulaman.

He cleared his throat as if to catch my attention. I didn’t look at him still, but I was listening—and he knew that. “Can I court you?” he asked in a soft voice.

Can I court you—it was different from ‘I will court you’ that he used on his ex-girlfriend who happens to be one of my closest friends. I actually was the bridge for them, and was one of the few people who pushed for their ‘love team.’

I stayed silent.

He wasn’t keen on waiting—he never was. He likes to do his own thing, and not wait. One thing I have always liked about him was that he values his time, but sometimes it irritates me as well.

“Hey,” he said, nudging me a bit. I turned to him and then said, “No.”

You should have seen the look on his face. It was as if the earth had fallen on him. Or he was told that his allowance had been cut off and he’s grounded for five whole years. Or he was told that he wouldn’t graduate along with our batch.

And you know that my weakness is that I don’t want people getting hurt because of me, so I relented yet again.

“Okay. You may court me. But… I wouldn’t want people to know. Your ex is one of my dear pals, and I don’t want you to come in between us. I’m just letting you court me because you gave me that frigging look that you know would work on me.”

The sympathetic look was replaced with a wide smile. “Yes! Thank you,” he said, and he was about to hug me when I stepped away.

“Courtship mode, mister,” I reminded him. “We’re not pals here.”

He laughed, and then ran off.

To where exactly, I didn’t know.

Until you came.

–

I was there at the stairs in front of the lobby, watching some of the grade school kids play patintero and habulan, and some of the sophomores and juniors at the basketball court strutting their own stuff. Surprisingly, I wasn’t with anyone—and you knew that, didn’t you?

You came and talked to me.

I was surprised you actually had gathered the courage to talk to me—we are close, yes, but it was our big secret. You are a campus heartthrob after all, a perfect gentleman, the man in every girl’s dream. I have always liked you and you have always known that, but I was a geek and heartthrobs don’t fall for geeks.

I never stopped liking you since I first laid my eyes on you, and you knew that, and but you don’t know one thing: I probably never will stop.

“Hey.”

I need not turn to see who it was—I know your voice, know your smell, and my body seems to know your presence.

“Hey,” I said, still not looking at you.

You tugged at my uniform, and I faced you. You smiled—but it wasn’t the smile that I have always loved. It wasn’t the smile that reached your eyes.

“We’re in public,” I said, and you grinned this time. “I don’t really care. Screw them,” you said, and I smiled.

You were just confident because we only have a few weeks to spare in this crappy school. A few weeks’ worth of gossip before graduation won’t hurt, huh?

I stayed silent.

“I heard that he’s courting you,” I heard you say.

“Boy, news travels THAT fast, huh?” I replied instead. “You had just confirmed what I asked,” you said.

All right. You know me that well.

“What did he tell you guys?” I asked after a while. I know the news would reach you somehow. You and he are in the same barkada after all. Besides, nothing goes on within our batch without your barkada knowing about it—and sometimes with your barkada’s consent.

“He said that he’s going to court you. He asked you, but then you stayed quiet. He said he’d still continue anyway,” you explained, and I smirked.

“That wasn’t what really happened, huh?” you said, and I nodded. No point lying. I never could lie to you.

“I refused at first, but then gave in.”

“Typical you.”

I merely nodded at your snide remark, and then went back to watching the other students.

You made me face you again. You saw the irritation on my face, for you knew I don’t get the whole point why you’re going all kuya mode on me. Or even jealous boyfriend mode on me.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I felt chills run up my spine when you said that.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, so you better take care,” you repeated. I strained my ears, processed what you said, but still didn’t speak.

No questions asked.

You stood up and left.

Just what you meant by that, I never knew.

I never knew for one because I woke up from the dream already.

It was only a dream, and yet it made something in me stir.

The sleeping emotions inside me woke up, and I only had a lousy dream to blame.

I wish I could see you again.

I wish I could bring back the old times—when you tell your stories and I listen, and when I tell you my problems and you listen.

I wish you’d simply just get here and be by my side, get to know the new me and I’d get to know the new you. How long was it, huh?

Three, maybe, four years?

I never stopped liking you.

And I probably never will.

Your best enemy is yourself.

April 18, 2007 22:25

While having lunch this afternoon with Rej, we talked about the upcoming UAAP season. And then we got around to talking about the finals of the season 69 men’s basketball. I was for Ateneo, and she was for UST—underdogs, she says.

And then she said something about the Ateneo Blue Eagles not able to beat themselves. Hindi nila natalo ang sarili nila, kasi kalaban nila talaga nun ang mga sarili nila.

And up to now, honestly and obviously, I am bothered by it. Did the Blue Eagles lose to themselves?

Rewind.

Everyone actually thought Ateneo would go unbeaten after the elimination round. I couldn’t really remember who was the first one to beat them—I think it was UE—and boy I am so sure that it was UST who gave them the second loss. I distinctly remember that because I always loved Chris Tiu and he was the one who worked that game out, only to falter in the end. (Or did I get it reversed?)

I was rooting for Ateneo—but not during UP-Ateneo games, because I am effing sure I’d be on the UP side that time around—during the Finals, and was even on the verge of giving in to nervousness and uneasiness when I found out they were going to meet with the Adamson Falcons during the semis. Adamson was a tough assignment for them—they won by a margin below three points in their past two games in the elims. And then the semis.

Grr.

I couldn’t remember who saved the day for them—it was JC, I think—but there they were, in the place everyone expected them to be: the Finals.

They won Game One by being lucky. I guess around that time they already got complacent because they were going up against the fourth-seed team who just dumped the second-seed UE back in the semis. Although admittedly I cursed Allan Evangelista (I wish I got his name right this time) when he raised his arms as if saying “glorify me because I (think I) just scored the winning basket,” and that was just so mayabang, and that there was really a lapse defensively in UST’s side, Ateneo could have lost that game.

When UST won Game Two, I started doubting it.

Yes. I doubted the team I am so amused with and smitten with.

Heading into Game Three (and absenting myself from my last class around that time to watch the game), I somehow had the feeling that… they would lose. I have a weird, weird way of feeling it if my team would win or lose, but sometimes it’s overridden by my emotions that it’s not trustworthy. When I saw JC Intal missing the crucial shots, and I hated Macky for not taking the shots since he was the one who was hot in that game, I knew it was over.

(Loved Japs Cuan though. Ever saw a pointguard who misses a lot of free throws and mid-range shots? Forgivable naman siya. He’s cute. And a good pointguard at that.)

I cried over the PDI article done about Macky and JC. Macky said he told Coach Norman Black that he would give the ball to JC because they wouldn’t reach the Finals if it weren’t for him. Aptly so, but… practicality-wise, I think you should just let the game be because you need to win it. It’s the championship we’re taking about, not a… not a… elimination game.

I cried so hard when Ateneo lost that game. I couldn’t forgive UST, for I think they took something that Ateneo aptly deserve.

But maybe I was wrong.

Your best enemy is yourself.

I still couldn’t grasp the main idea, but I think they were just really… complacent and thought they could do UST in two games. But they didn’t.

They didn’t, and they lost.

I hope they could redeem themselves this time—but losing almost everyone on their starting lineup? (JC, Macky and Doug—hey, they’re four, right? Forgot the other one. Chris Tiu’s staying, so there’s at least one starter left.)

And then La Salle’s coming back.

Grr.

Am doing another entry on that—season 70 updates, I mean.

If anyone from the Ateneo lineup reads this, enlighten me please. Did you really just give in to yourselves?

In Deep Profoundness (Department of Redundancy Department)

April 18, 2007 22:10

You’re in UP because you can think and speak for yourself by your own wits and on your own two feet. And you can do so, no matter what the rest of the people in the room may be thinking. You are in UP because no one can tell you to shut up if you have something sensible and vital to say. You are in UP because you dread not in the poverty of material comforts but the poverty of the mind. You are in UP because you care about something abstract and sometimes as treacherous as the idea of “nation” even if it kills you. –Dr. Jose Dalisay, Jr.

I was one of the very few iskolar ng bayan—or maybe let’s generalize it and say ‘college students’—who have a weird sense of what if I didn’t go to the university I am actually in. It’s not that I regret that I chose UP over Ateneo or UST—it’s just because… not one semester had passed ever since I got here that I got a ‘perfect’ semester to say the least.

What do I mean?

For one, I already incurred two INCs for the past four regular semesters I am here in UP, and then my name magically disappeared from the official class list of my first ever 1.0-grade class. And then just last semester, out of sheer carelessness and tension for the Cres101 grades haven’t come out yet and the agony of a five-hour wait for those grades, I wrote Comm140 instead of Comm141 in my Form5 and had to redo the process all over again to correct my fugly mistake.

It’s really just so… irritating.

And then just this semester, my professor in Comm141 is taking a bit longer to release our grades. To think she was already way past the deadline. I’m just so freaking tired of seeing that blank space next to the Comm141 subject, and then the INC next to my Art Studies1 (which I am taking forever to complete, by the way).

I want a car. (And I just blurted this out.)

Last sembreak, I came across the booklet that they give to those students who took entrance exams at Ateneo. I browsed through it, slept with that booklet covering my face, and it was the first thing I read as soon as I woke up. Sorry to say, but I was thinking how was my life if I went to Ateneo. Maybe we’re even more broke—oh yeah, care to remind me?—and maybe I need to update myself to their standards. (Excuse me to Atenians. I’m making it clear here that I don’t have anything against you guys.)

I’m here on the verge of my what ifs. Not good, don’t you think? Wallowing in the what-could-have-been instead of enjoying what I have now. Hell, the tuition fee of other private schools in one semester could very well fund my education for two degrees or maybe even three—four even?

And then I have always wondered if I went to Holy Spirit instead of Tarlac Montessori, but then again… I wouldn’t have met my fantabulous batchmates if not for that. Come to think of it, maybe I wouldn’t have been too bitter in my freshman year in college because of a dude back in high school if I went into an all-girls school, don’t you think?

Argh.

I can’t just move on and get over this because I need frigging closure.

pain.

aerodance workout is now kicking in.

i have always wondered since the start of the summer semester why i didn't take basketball for women instead.

oh right. a friend told me it's too stressful to begin with, that it should be taken up during regular semesters to prevent breakdowns.

haha.

am kidding.

anyway, the pain in my 'abs' is now kicking in, and i'm expecting some more in my arms and legs from all those squats and biceps and triceps exercise my prof asked us to do. 

also the darn crunches.

well, before i break down and cry because i couldn't move, i'd say my goodbye.

hehe.

p.s.

did the craziest thing and emailed joseph yeo.  call me nuts.

webpage illiterate

pardon me for my super gulo blog.

have yet to appreciate all the website thingies and do my site justice. 

Just where is this all going?

April 17, 2007 0750

Just because I am really all over the place these past few days, I still haven’t got a real clear idea if Harbour Centre-RP won the tournament they competed in and still qualified for something else that confuses me right now.

(Funny kasi, dalawa ang National Team natin when it comes to basketball. Raar.)

And it’s not that I have anything against imports—they actually make a conference a bit more exciting with their slam dunks and somehow cute faces—but when it comes to the RP team, I reckon they should cut down on imports.

Why?

For one, if you do have imports on your team, how exactly could you really ‘own’ the victory when you know that almost one-third of the team’s score is scored by the import—or imports for that matter?

Besides, imports demand higher pay—and maybe even higher bonuses. (Read Beth Celis article on Nwosu ‘asking’ Harbour Centre owner Mikee Romero a Rolex watch and a replacement for his iPod.) Also, I think imports take away the time that the players would give on the team.

Where I am I heading?

Nothing. Just an early morning basketball binge because from what I heard, the RP team—the pro ones—will be in the Philippines this Sunday.

Yey!

Wish I could be there to watch the damn All-Star games in Baguio. Grr. My tita told me she’d take me to ‘backstage’ (Okay, technically, it’s the dugout.) to meet the players, but my darn summer classes prohibits me of doing so.

Wait a sec.

May 1 is Labor Day, so it gives that it’s a holiday, right? Hmm. More likely than not, our dear ol’ president would make it a long weekend, so… most probably April 30 is a holiday.

I could go to Baguio with that kind of schedule!

Oh golly.

I’m excited. 