Archive | May, 2012

This clock never seemed so alive

24 May

To say that I am a fan of Lifehouse is an understatement. To say that I would exhaust all means to watch them live again is another one.

The truth is, though, no matter how much you love a performer, there’s just no reasoning with a wallet that has other priorities.

But just the same, there’s no giving up for this persistent fan.

Four years and about a dozen hairstyles ago, here was my 15-year-old self gushing over their 2008 “You and Me” tour — shaky point-and-shoot camera, braces and all.

What has changed since then?

Not my gratitude to Mama for surprising me with that ticket four years ago.

Not Lifehouse songs’ ability to stop me in my tracks, be it heard via iTunes, on the radio, or over the supermarket’s PA system.

Not that overarching desire for Jason Wade’s eyes to meet mine, the way it did for three seconds during their 2008 concert.

Then what’s new this 2012?

If there’s anything of value I’ve learned in the previous years, it’s asserting oneself and always, always finding a way for everyone and everything that matters to me.

So when upon reading’s concert tickets giveaway, I pounced on the opportunity, justifying why I deserved two tickets thus:

Winners were to be announced at 3 p.m. today, but an hour later, no results were to be found. Turns out they announced over at the facebook account that the announcements would be made at 5 p.m.

Mama called a little after five, asking to be fetched from work (another one of our straight-out-of-Freaky-Friday moments) because taxis were hard to come by. Before leaving for the parking lot, I hit refresh on the announcement page one last time and saw this beaut:

The grepa winning streak continues!

Mama was beside herself when she heard the news, gushing: “It’s the first concert I’ll ever watch in Araneta!”

Welcome back to Le Manille, bebeboy!

There are just some things for which a one-time occurrence is hardly enough. A Lifehouse concert is one of them.

And what makes my ear-to-ear grin wider is the thought that this May 26th, not one but two gushing fan girls will be rocking out to every riff and hanging by a moment (and eons more) with Jason, Ben, Bryce and Rick. ❤

Everything I’d like to be

15 May



Because we’ve got each others’ backs. Always.

Ever so slightly overdue, but every bit as sincere as if this were posted last Sunday. ❤

Mama and I look very much alike. We’ve been called each other’s twin, photocopy, carbon copy and what-have-you almost every time someone sees us together for the first time. Despite our uncanny resemblance though, there lies a stark difference in our dispositions.

I am deliberate (if sometimes cautious, but never anti-social) with my words and actions, while Mama tends to be spontaneous and bubbly.

Mama was at the graduation rites of our college this April — this isn’t at all odd or surprising, except for the fact that my own graduation is slated for next year. She came to cheer on my friends who were graduating, most of whom she had already come to know and love as her own children in the course of countless meetings, hangouts, movie marathons and sleepovers we’ve hosted at home.

To my surprise and slight horror, she strode right up to my friends and gave them cheek-air kisses as the others were being called to the stage to receive their certificates. She even brought the graduates gifts that would be of use for them in the work force, which she insisted on “delivering” to each of the recipients as the ceremony wore on.

As an usherette, it was all I could do to tell my own mother to behave and wait till the rites were over before approaching the graduates. The whole scene felt like it came straight out of a Freaky Friday sequel. Even if she tends to be boisterous — and even if her quirks make me feel like the parent in the relationship sometimes — Mama is never pompous. And more importantly, she continues to amaze me with her propensity to be generous.

I love you, Mamao!

Oh God, my chance had come at last

10 May

This is the story of how I potentially ruined a good pair of shoes, chased down a dream and made one of the best spontaneous decisions I’ve ever made.

When news of Morrissey’s Manila concert spread, I vowed not to let it pass — but the minimum ticket price of P3710 (for general admission, mind you) turned out to be a big middle finger raise to that promise. So I made a mental list of the ways I could possibly clinch a ticket.

Buy with own money? Nope, meager summer allowance pretty much crossed that option out.

Cover event as a member of the press? Tried, but my editor turned down the pitch because it wasn’t Lady Gaga level.

Join a raffle? Tried as well, but no relevant results turned up even after a thorough search engine scramble.

So when I heard of this contest by Rogue magazine, I thought, “This is it! This could be my one chance to see Morrissey!”

The trouble was, I only found out about the contest an hour and a half before the announcement of winners. And because it involved sending in an answer that could only be found within the magazine’s pages, it seemed like I would never make it on time.

At 3:22 this afternoon, I sent Rogue the following e-mail:

Morrissey in Manila: The answer to your question and why I deserve that ticket

Question: What was the brand of the meat grinder used in Isabelle Daza’s cover shoot?

Answer: The meat grinder’s brand is Fleetwood.

I first read about Rogue magazine’s ticket giveaway today at 2:30 p.m. I was at the office where I was taking my internship, a stone’s throw away from Greenbelt. To find out the answer to the question, I did what anyone in the 21st century would do: I Googled it. Not surprisingly, the answer was nowhere to be found.

I debated whether or not I should run towards the nearest bookstore. I made like I was going to the restroom and ran to the two convenience stores in our office building in search of Rogue. No such luck. I went back to my desk, ready to resign myself to the last few hours of the working day. I told my friends at work about the dilemma, and one of them nudged me by saying, “You know, the more time you spend talking is less time you spend getting there.”

Then in a fortuitous moment, the stars aligned and my supervisor went out for a late lunch. I raced down 18 floors, jogged along a bridgeway and dashed to Powerbooks — pending article assignment and time log be damned.

When the bookstore’s doors closed behind me, I ripped the plastic off the magazine and scanned the pages while brisk walking back to the office.

Did I get stared at by people passing me by? I wouldn’t know and frankly, wouldn’t care. Halfway through the bridgeway, I felt light on my feet. Was it the bliss of finding the answer? The exhilaration of knowing that despite finding out about the contest quite late, I might still stand a chance? Partly.

But as I returned the magazine inside its brown paper bag, I looked down and saw the real reason for the light feeling. There was now a hole where the toe cap and the heel of my shoe used to be joined tightly together.

All for the love of Morrissey. So please, Rogue staff — please give me a shot at those tickets. I sure could use the P3,700 savings for a brand new pair of shoes.

A minute before 4 p.m., I got the following reply:

Thank you, Rogue magazine for giving me a reason to grin and repress the urge to do a happy dance at the office.

Thank you, Sir Peds, for taking your well-deserved lunch break.

Thank you, Powerbooks for keeping your newsstand up-to-date.

This May 13th, I’ll be where there’s music and there’s people and they’re young and alive. ❤