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P34 launches Refer-a-Friend program

A Lifelong Farewell

I never thought getting over the loss of a loved one would be this hard. It’s been four days since a very close friend of mine died of heart attack in his sleep but I still haven’t recovered the slightest. And since then, all I ever did was to try, without luck, to keep myself from plunging into depression. So it would take every ounce of my strength to spill on this digital paper all the feelings I’ve kept hidden inside. Wherever you are, I know that you could read this. So here goes.

I regret not spending time with you when I could. You know, being busy with work and school and all that. The last time you asked me to tag along, I bailed out for the stupidest of reasons: a headache and the clothes I was wearing (but hey, you’ve seen my office uniform and though you were insistent, I know you were secretly relieved I wasn’t there, hehe).

And I’m always going to be thankful for your being sympathetic with all my crazy, stupid problems. Remember the last time we rode the bus together? It was me and motion sickness again, and I was having a terrible time keeping up with the conversation. But you talked and paused at the right moment, because though I was feeling shitty, you knew I wanted something to fill the air. And I appreciate your concern over my health. I was rereading our conversation in your mobile and you were so worried about me. And that instant, my heart swelled and I cried.

Didn’t you know I thought you were one of the smartest, most insightful people I’ve met? Yeah, I do respect your opinions and I look up to you. A lot. I love discussing books with you, and other things no matter how trivial they are. I mean, how else would a conversation between two people who share the same fondness for Haruki Murakami go? I feel bad that I wasn’t given the chance to tell you how much I value every single conversation we’ve had, talks about life, love, and even the green jokes . I was always so glad you were there to lift my spirits up whenever I feel down. And you were always ready to listen no matter how crazy my thoughts were. Thanks for showing great interest even in the most inconsequential things in my life, as evidenced by our endless Facebook comments and chats.

I might not tell you often, but I thought it was pretty obvious that I enjoy your company a lot. We would hang out all day long and there would never be the smallest air of uneasiness. Except for that time you told me you missed kissing a girl—honestly, how am I supposed to respond to that ? Yeah, awkward. And that time we watched “Norwegian Wood” in a room and locked the door when the scene got a little too—er—cheesy?

And thank you for trusting me with all your secrets and your girl problems. I thought it was funny when you got really conscious about your looks, because honestly, I don’t think there’s anything to fuss about (uh-huh, made you smile at that ). But you know what, I’ve always felt bad when the girls you liked didn’t fall for the tactics we’d worked on. I mean, what the hell, they sure are missing a lot! But still, it was fun talking to you about them. Of course, what else should your Wingwoman do?

I might not always tell you this, but thank you for just being with me, especially during your family gatherings. You know how hard it is for me to socialize so it felt ultimately good to have someone to talk to in a roomful of strangers. And thank you for taking care of me even if you weren’t asked to.

You’ve been such a great friend, and yet there’s just so much I should apologize on. Sorry for screwing up my birthday bashes. Sorry for the late replies to your text messages. Sorry for missing out on your lunch invitations. Sorry for being so moody. Sorry for getting you caught in stupid arguments (you know what they are).

And here I am, disappointing you again because no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I’m still far from getting over. I hope you understand, and I’m sorry because it’s not going to be easy. That emptiness is eating at me, and I’m fighting really hard against it. And all those places we’ve been in, all those movies we’ve seen together, all the bottles of Tanduay Ice we’ve shared, I want you to know that every single memory of you will be stored forever in my heart. But there’s still the gaping hole that I know will never EVER be filled. And I won’t be able to look at life the same way again.

I’m terribly missing you. And though I know you’re in good hands now, nursing this wound would be a lifelong pursuit. All I want now is for you to remember me always, all the memories we’ve shared, good or bad. Take care of me like you always did from the time we became friends. Talk to me in my heart. Help me cope with the loss. I couldn’t promise you anything, except to journey through life as usual. And hoping to see you again, soon.

- For my dear friend Pernell, I'm gonna miss you a lot.

New Year Noises

It's not at all that weird to be spending the New Year inside my bedroom, a book in hand, and all curtains drawn. I’ve always been comfortable with silence. Until that day, though.

While everyone was busy making silly noises outside, lighting firecrackers, screaming and pointing at the distant fireworks display, wondering how the ones who were lighting them could afford such a luxury, I was staying indoors, reading the Murakami I received last Christmas, and pondering over the laws of attraction.
In between paragraphs, I looked up from my book, stared at the four walls of my grandma’s bedroom and thought about how nice my world would be if it was inside this room, devoid of all the senseless clatter, peaceful, quiet, full of mystery. I thought about the sounds of firecrackers, the torotot’s blown, kids screaming, stereos turned up to full volume. Everything out there is real. And no matter how hard I try, I know I couldn’t keep away from those noises that easily. No matter how much I shield my little world from those things, I know that in one way or another all defenses would come undone.

I closed the book and stared, without seeing a thing. I’ve always loved the sound of silence, but on that day—the start of a new year—I felt something altogether different. I was surprised—amazed even—because never in my whole life had I felt this uncomfortable with silence. I was afraid—afraid of what 2011 would bring. I was terrified of all the uncertainties that come with the new year. I thought about the plans I’ve laid for myself: my first term in graduate school, the business venture I’m about to take, the career changes I’m about to make, the relationship I’m about to rebuild… All these and the roadblocks that are certain to come with it: financial problems, compromises, physical and emotional stress. I realized that I could never look at New Year celebrations the same way again given this new perspective. So this is how it’s like, looking at the world from inside the bedroom, a book in hand, and all the curtains drawn.

So before I got consumed by fear, I put on some warmers and rushed outside, picked up a torotot and blew to my heart’s content. I watched my dad and my brother as they lit the firecrackers. I hate the stench but what the heck, this is a family tradition. I took pictures of my mom, my sister, my grandparents. I watched the dog. He seemed to like the trompillo very much and he’s barking mad. I patted him and thought, oh well, this is life after all. Go ahead and live it. He raced towards the trompillo and gave out a thrilled woof.

Top 12 Girls I Would Love To Trade Faces With

12. Julia Stiles. She takes your breath away in the I-don’t-care-what-I'm-wearing-I’m-pretty-anyhow kind of way. Known for her roles in rom-coms “10 Things I Hate About You” and “The Prince and Me”.






11. Ziyi Zhang. I love her messy just-got-out-of-bed look. Also when she does all those stunts in her films looking all fierce and merciless.






10. Monica Bellucci. She’s hot and Italian. The way she walks down the street and all heads turn her way in “Malena” would make any girl give everything just to have her face and her body (and I don’t give a shit about perverts).









9. Kristen Stewart. Who cares if she’s totally snatched every girl’s dream away when she starred as Bella Swan alongside Robert Pattinson in “Twilight”? I think she’s still pretty, though. Her skin has that weird luminous quality in it.










8. Alexandra Daddario. I could do with a pair of mysterious, stormy gray eyes that would stare you down until you’d want to shrink the size of an ant.










7. Camilla Belle. Hers is a charm that's classic and timeless. A modern-day Jackie O. And why the hell does she look so ridiculously young in all her photos?








6. Hayley Williams. The Paramore frontwoman is a badass chic in her stunningly fiery red locks and her big booming voice. If anything, her trademark crooked teeth only added to her appeal. And the way she bangs her head like that? Heart-stopping.






5. Amanda Seyfried. She looks so heavenly in “Letters to Juliet” and I like the way she talks. I love her long blonde locks. I love the way she stares in those piercing green eyes. I love the way she seems to care less about locking lips with girls in the movies.







4. Natalie Portman. If personality is something you could wear, I’d gladly have a Natalie Portman ensemble. The best thing about looking all smart and classy is when you’re actually smart and classy. And in my opinion, no one could pull that stunt off better than Natalie Portman.






3. Shin Hye Park. This multi-talented Korean actress could melt your heart with those innocent, blameless eyes. She would dress like a man for all she cares and the world would still fall on her feet and beg for her mercy.










2. Dianna Agron. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, beautiful toned arms, and a voice that kicks ass. She bitches everyone around in the hit TV series “Glee” but everybody would still love her. I wouldn’t mind being bitched around by a Dianna Agron, means I’m bitch-worthy alright.










1. Zooey Deschanel. I would trade everything I have for those stunning blue eyes, classic hair-do and vintage dresses. I swear this The Smiths-singing enchantress would deprive you of sleep once you decide to watch “500 Days Of Summer”. There’s absolutely nothing to dislike about Zooey. The way she speaks, her mischievous smile, that dreamy look etched on her face…Oh what I wouldn’t give to be Zooey Deschanel for a day.

Attract and Repel

Proof that some girls could be just as self-absorbed and egocentric as most guys: When someone comes up to one of them and asks her “What’s your ideal guy like?” she’ll most probably go “My ideal man would have to dig the same music as I do.” The other might say something like “He’d definitely have to love Italian food.” Or “He should love Orlando Bloom as much as I do!” Crazy. By “ideal man” we simply mean the type of guy whom you think would make a great partner. Or the kind of guy you’d want to end up in bed with. Or the perfect guy who’d fill in the empty spaces in your life. We’re not asking about what you see in the mirror.

Of course, girls want to be understood. She’d want a guy who can get along well with her folks, who could appreciate the way she dresses, who could put up with all her crazy habits. And there’s no way he could endure if he isn’t anything like her at all. Yep, it might work for some, but in my case, it just did NOT. I learned the hard way that I can never be my ideal partner. Admittedly, I used to be one of those girls who, when asked about what my ideal guy is, would immediately think about myself first—that this guy, whoever he might be, should be totally like me in all aspects: character, tastes in music, fashion, food, books (that is if he actually reads), films, etc. I might even be lucky to find a guy who shares the same opinions as I do. It’s like finding your “mirror twin”.

I did found them once, three guys who were my mirror twins. It was crazy at first. I got all consumed by the thrill of having f*ckloads of things to do and talk about. My days passed by in a flurry of late-night phone conversations, supposed intellectual discussions over beer and pizza, heavy foot traffic in book fairs, jamming sessions, walkathons, and a lot of talking and talking. For a while, it was all I had going. But in the end, all they ever proved to be were flash-in-the-pan romances. None of them actually lasted. Why? Because at some point, we just got tired of the sameness, the monotony, the lack of variety. It just got a little too boring. When all we could talk about are the books we like, the food we like, the TV shows we like, you’d start to ask yourself, when can I ever step out of my world and explore the others? When will I discover new things and eventually grow up?

Now I say this whole thing about compatibility is crap. After meeting him, of course. He was nothing like me. We did come from the same school, took up the same course in college, we’re both the eldest in the family, and pretty much share the same disposition. But none of my interests matched his. He’s outgoing and fun-loving, I’m introverted and repulsively anti-social. He likes to play basketball, I prefer to bum around all day in front of my computer. He digs fatty American dishes, I glorify Italian and Chinese cuisine. He enjoys reading news magazines and non-fiction titles, I like reading dystopian lit and magic realism. He listens to good melodies, I dissect the lyrics. He wants to earn big sums, I prefer doing work I’m comfortable with. So obviously, we are just two different people.

But here we are, two people in love, and we really don’t care much about our differences. In fact, these differences are the things that make our relationship even more exciting. If not for him, I wouldn’t realize that going out would be fun. I wouldn’t know that burgers and steaks aren’t really that bad at all. I wouldn’t know that non-fiction reads are just as great as the novels I stock on my shelf. I wouldn’t know that it’s okay to relax to the sounds without fussing over the complexities of the lyrics. It’s like living in an altogether different universe and finding happiness in it. We have this endless stream of topics of conversation flowing between us. We do run out of things to talk about, mind you, but we could share the silence without feeling awkward. With him, differences are beautiful and not something we should argue about.

As my first-grade science teacher had said, “like poles repel and unlike poles attract”. Well, I didn’t know I’d come to appreciate science this much.

10 Things I Wish I Had The Guts (And The Time) To Do

1. Wear red lipstick. I’ve always felt awkward whenever I walk out of the house with even the slightest make-up on, so you could imagine me putting on red lipstick. I thought it would only make me look like a flesh-eating Bratz f*cktard. But still, I’ve seen photos of women wearing luscious red lips and I somehow thought that it MIGHT look good on me had I only been brave enough to wear one.

2. Ride a roller coaster. Okay now, no laughing. At this point I would have to admit that I’ve never experienced a roller coaster ride. I blame it on my unmanageable motion sickness attacks, even riding a Merry-Go-Round is a catastrophe.

3. Kiss a stranger full on the lips. Yes I know, it may sound sick but I’ve always wished I had the guts to steal a kiss from some random guy out there. Like when you’re walking down the street and this guy, looking all hot and enigmatic, eyef*cks the hell out of you. Swoon! Oh well, it’s me and my perversities again.

4. Spit at someone else’s face. HAHA! Yeah, this has been my ultimate fantasy. I would work up some juices inside my mouth, take good aim, and spit it all at the face that disgusts me the most. Oh, the satisfaction and the sense of fulfillment it gives is beyond measure. Works best if you have colds (wink).

5. Shoplift. Prices of goods are ridiculously high these days. So you wouldn’t blame me if I suddenly have this urge to pocket a few merchandise and relieve myself the burden of having to pay for them. If only supermarkets aren’t too strict on implementing security procedures. And IF ONLY I was a little less chicken-hearted.

6. Get inked. If Amy Winehouse’s health isn’t deteriorating at the moment, I would’ve been serious about my attempts at getting inked. I know her tattoos have nothing to do with her health problems but I just thought it would make me look sickly in a tried-my-best-to-look-tough-but-I-screwed-up kind of way. Still, I think that the skin would make a great canvas of sorts.

7. Make a fake reservation. This is an act I have rehearsed and run through over and over in the old days (but have never gotten around to doing it, obviously). This is what I’d do: I would call up and ask for a reservation in a swanky restaurant, give a fake name (probably from a residential directory), and have it cancelled seconds before the said time, or worse, make a terrific no-show.

8. Bypass the public toilet queue. One of the worst places on earth for a girl (aside from an SRO concert event) is the ladies’ public restroom. Believe me, a trip to the ladies’ room could instantly turn a blissful shopping spree into a nightmare. Long queues make me sick, so I dream of being able to pull this stunt off someday. You may think that ladies are harmless, but this I tell you: never EVER underestimate the deadly manicured claws and the monstrous spine-tingling leather handbag of a lady.

9. Crossdress for a day. One time I asked a boy bud of mine what they talk about inside the men’s room, or if they actually talk about anything at all. Well, he just looked at me as if I’d thrown cow poop at his face. So that got me wondering, what do boys talk about when they’re all by themselves (aside from sex, of course)? What do they have in their bags (porn CDs maybe)? I know guys wouldn’t confide that much in us girls so I came up with this brilliant idea!

10. Start a war in YouTube. With just a few racist videos or some really nasty jokes, I could definitely start an online bloodbath in YouTube! Yee-hah! Isn’t it fun seeing all those people hurl profanities at each other over such petty things? I know, right. This could be the start of my most dreamed-of online superstardom! Again, only if I wasn’t the gutless little miss that I am.

Life on Paper

It’s not everyday you get to really appreciate the things you have. But I suppose it just feels good to do so, especially when you are in an unpleasant mood. It’s comforting, I tell you. In my case though, it all started with a disheartening exam and the uber-depressing movie “Buried”.

When I got home after a looong day, I got so dramatically consumed with grief and anguish that I frantically scoured my unwatched DVD collection for some feel-good films. I desperately needed something that would lift my spirits. So there I was randomly selecting movies and I finally got down to watching “Beauty and the Briefcase” and “Letters to Juliet”. The protagonists in the two films are both writers so I got to reflect on myself more—myself as a writer, that is.

I remember only too well that day when I decided I wanted to hone my writing skills and take a course in Mass Communications. That was after I got convinced by my grandmother that taking a Fine Arts course wouldn’t do me any good. I was in high school back then, a sophomore. I didn’t know much about writing then—about grammar, structure, figurative expressions, all those stuff. All I knew was that I loved reading. But I knew that just because I was an avid reader it doesn’t mean that I could make a good writer someday. What I know is, as an avid reader, I have this secret wish of wanting to be read, to be on the reverse side of it all. So with the help of a few of my literary idols—Dickens, Rowling, Stevenson, Keene, Coelho and King—I tidied up a bit and took little steps into becoming a literary writer. I remember converting my old notebooks into storybooks. I would write down stories and draw images across the page and have someone read it aloud. Yeah, sounds crazy. But it was pretty much how I spent my childhood then (after the era of Barbie and Polly Pocket, of course). I took up Journalism and found out that there’s a lot more to writing than what I thought to be only entirely about scratching a pen on paper: that the world is big and there are a lot of great stories out there waiting to be heard.

I’ve always loved listening to people talk about their lives, what and where, this and that. Somehow, they make excellent stories, more interesting and more colorful than those of movie stars, celebrities, politicians, and all those despicable hypocrites out there who actually don’t have anything substantial to share to the world. These stories are worthy of being printed across glossy paper or etched all over the sweet-smelling pages of a hard-bound book. And this—as I’ve discovered while journeying through the valuable lessons of life as a writer—is what I’m here for: to look for great stories and make them known. To listen to what these people have to say and help them reach out and share their stories to everyone else in the world. To give them what is due as stars of their own stories, celebrities in their own right. And this is why I’m proud of being a writer: because I’ve always done my fair share of searching far and wide for these stories and retelling them in a way that would capture the interest of my readers, to make them feel that these stories matter to them as their own. This is my way of making people understand the value of life, and what it is to others as well.

Just like Sophie in “Letters to Juliet”, whose knack for spotting interesting stories led her to find love in the most unexpected way, or Laine in “Beauty and the Briefcase”, who has always been driven by her dream of writing for Cosmopolitan magazine, writing—for me—has been more than just a part of my life. Rather, it is LIFE for me. Yes, I do write for a living. But I’ve always preferred it the other way around: I LIVE to WRITE. So if you’re a writer and you’re feeling bad about making do with a measly salary, don’t be. Look outside your window. Eventually, you’ll realize that the world needs you more than you know.