Atop a bridge dressed like an 80s popstar

And yet again, a page off the Perci journal...thankfully not as traumatic as the last one but in case you want to know what I've been doing in Sydney apart from being under dodgy ceilings...

Yes, it's a Sunday afternoon and I'm at the office. Why? Because I'm a loser who can't finish his work on regular office hours!!! But not a total loser, I'm proud to say. In the tradition of the Perci Intalan "Work Hard, Play Hard, Rest Well" guide to sane living... I did the Sydney Harbour Bridge climb today!

Yup, I actually paid to climb up over 1,500 or so steps to go to the very top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge! It was quite a thrill. Not quite as death defying as it sounds (and heaven knows I've got a new definition for death defying)

Phylis, a friend of my boss was in town this weekend. I met her in HK a couple of times and we went to parties together, so that made her sort of my friend already too. Anyway, she emailed me and I said she can crash at my place while she's here.

So from last Friday 'til this afternoon I was with her. It was a bit awkward because we weren't really close at first. But we went out for dinner and clubbing Friday. Had breakfast with her and showed her my favorite beach hike on Saturday morning. Left her at the beach on Saturday afternoon - while I went back home to do my laundry. Then Saturday night we went for dinner and clubbing til 3am. Chatted at the apartment til 4am, then this morning we were up by 7:30 to go climb a bridge for 3 hours!
now for the 80s popstar outfit part...

My Wonderful World of Trailers

I love watching trailers. I’m fortunate enough to land a job out of college that let me do something similar – writing promos for TV shows. A few years later, I got the chance to make actual trailers for local movies (two of which were scripted by my then yet-to-meet and yet-to-be life partner!) And after leaving that line of work to concentrate on program production for 6 years, I still opted to come back to head up the promo team at my current job.

You know my guilty pleasure in making promos and trailers? It’s making good ones out of bad shows and movies! Hah! I swear, the worst stuff on my show reel are for shows I do like. I think it’s the pressure of distilling a good show down to a 30 seconder - and the fact that with so many good scenes you get so lost in editing that whatever you wind up with is never good enough. And if it doesn’t rate or make money, then you will always get blamed. But bad titles? Hey, 1 or 2 good scenes is a blessing! And if people do watch the show and hate it, they say they were fooled by the trailer...which becomes a feather in your cap!

Why am I talking about all this? Because I saw this brilliant trailer on You Tube that really reminded me just why it is that I love what I do. You can make a good show look bad. You can make a bad show look good. And with a bit of patience and a lot of imagination, you can make a show that everybody has seen and loved into something they’d want to watch all over – or never ever – again.

Life Cakes

Earlier, I was at the 9th day mass of my uncle who passed away. His sons honored him afterwards by throwing a party for him, commemorating the day their dad, as our faith tells us, has gone to heaven. Coincidentally, I was sitting with my own dad at dinner. There, as we ate our "kakanin" for dessert, he told me how he used to make these rice cakes when he was young. This triggered bits and pieces of memories that he began to share, which slowly made me appreciate even more what a remarkable man he is.

My dad was around 15 years old during World War II. At the time, he had to stop schooling and was making rice cakes that his younger siblings would sell at the movie house nearby (where incidentally, my Dad also hung out with the projectionist like Toto in my favorite movie “Cinema Paradiso”). His family lived right next to an old school, which the Japanese turned into their garrison.

His war stories are quite diverse. Once he was almost mistakenly identified as a Filipino guerrilla soldier. Fortunately he was on the good side of a Japanese soldier who was running a rice plantation, so he was able to claim that he worked there and was spared from being arrested. He also told me how once the Japanese assigned him and some kids nearby to patrol the perimeter of their camp, holding nothing more than sharpened sticks. Another time, when his family had to flee their homes because bombs were being dropped on the camps, he walked miles and miles just to go back… so he can use the toilet he was ‘accustomed’ to.

When the war ended he went back to school. To make up for lost time they had to do continuous schooling with no summer breaks. While studying he juggled working on the weekends with the loftier pursuits of any teenage guy…courting girls. One girl lived close to my dad’s house, but was from the province. He told me that he would find time to still take her to visit her sister in Pampanga. What today is about a 2 hours’ drive from where we live was quite a long and dangerous trip back then - what with the insurgents hiding in the area during the ‘50s. And still he would make it back by night so his mother won’t know.

He married this girl and was expecting a child when he was only on his third year in college. But sadly, she died in childbirth, leaving my dad a widower and a single father to my eldest sister at the age of 23. While my grandparents helped take care of her, my dad finished school and went to work. He’s the eldest child and so what he earned had to go not just to raising my sister, but also to helping his younger siblings through school.

It would take him over half a decade to marry again, this time to a girl he met at the office - my mother. He loved her so much that even though they were properly engaged, they secretly exchanged vows at a civil wedding 4 months before their actual church wedding.

He worked more than one job to sustain the 5 more kids that he would raise with my mom. On the same land he patrolled at the perimeter of the Japanese camp, he built a house of wood then a house of stone. He earned enough for a car, then two. He earned enough to see each child finish college. And even after I, the youngest, have gone and made a living of my own, he still kept going to work Mondays through Saturdays - up to this very day.

I write this now as a story, but it was all told in bits and pieces – some over tonight’s rice cakes, others in a drive through traffic or while waiting for a waiter in a restaurant. You never know when memories are triggered. They come best when they are not forced.

But from all this I realize now that whenever my dad recounts stories from his past, it is always with a half smile. More than just nostalgia, it is from a sense of fulfillment. From the little I have gathered, it is already quite a life. And even now, as he approaches his 81st year, indeed he is living it well.

a PSA for gay guys

Here's an excellent PSA that speaks to every gay guy who has gone through, or is going through, this fabulous life's many misadventures!