PINOY RANGERS! Mandirigmang kabataan, tanod ng kasarinlan!

Gerilya’s First Exhibition
Exhibit runs from Jan. 26 until Feb. 12

In November 2011, an artwork featuring three masked Filipino youths in various fighting stances made its overnight debut on a heavily-graffitied wall of the Philcoa overpass in Quezon City. Their faces hidden by t-shirts of Philippine flags that they wore on their heads, the three looked out at passersby, seemingly ready to fight or defend, should the need arise.

One week later, the artwork has been torn to shreds, presumably by well-meaning metro aids.

This did not hinder the appearance of several more similar artworks, however. Paintings of youths in t-shirt masks inspired by the flags of the 17th century Philippine revolutionary society of the Katipunan appeared on different walls and public spaces of the metro. While most have been scrapped off from view faster than they have been pasted on, photos of their sightings have made a perceptible splash on the internet.

Those who saw the works have taken to calling the series “Pinoy Rangers,” as a play on words on the popular 90′s children’s TV show Power Rangers because of the Japanese super sentai-inspired costumed superhero fighting poses that the masked subjects adopted. This was to be the first series of street art by Gerilya to make the jump from public spaces to a gallery exhibit.

Formed in 2008 at the University of the Philippines, Diliman, Gerilya is an artist collective involved in various art-related ventures such as comics, street art, graffiti animation, fine art exhibitions, and illustration commissions. Their work is inspired by Philippine culture and history, exploring socio-political issues and national identity. They seek to make their art as relevant as possible and draw influence from Philippine popular and mass culture.

In the Pinoy Rangers series, Gerilya drew from their collective experience as children who grew up in the city in the 90′s and soaked up popular culture. Merging the iconography of the 17th century flags of the Katipunan and the super sentai fighting stances of the 90′s blurs and recreates our idea of what a hero looks like. The t-shirt mask, on the other hand, remains timely and unmistakably Filipino as it is still currently used by farmers and labourers against the elements, and by urban protesters against teargas and to ensure their anonymity.

Kanto Gallery
The Collective
7274 Malugay St.
Brgy San Antonio Village, 1203
Makati, Philippines

 Have I told you about the time I went to Anilao with a couple of friends & Miko’s family? Obviously, I haven’t. #LazyBlogger

We stayed at Janao Beach Resort, where Miko’s family usually stays. The place is surrounded by trees and mountains. The nearest convenience store is found in the city and the nearest sari-sari store is a walk by the beach. This isn’t the place to go explore your night owl- it’s serene, quiet and unusually charming. With the beach just a gate away.

The beach resort offers windsurfing lessons. Also, you could arrange for a boat to take you island hopping provided the weather is good. You could also go kayaking, it really depends on what you want to do.

Also the perfect place to get drunk, especially when you’re with family or friends who don’t mind the humiliation you have to face. It’s a good thing I quit drinking. Well, not really.

Miko’s cousins throwing water balloons at each other.

My then seven-week old puppy, Sergeant, who couldn’t even jump up the stairs and who could fit in a KFC Bucket.

Miko’s adorable little sister, Shobe! Ok fine, she has a name but everyone either calls her Tutubi or Shobe.

Here are more photos with Miko’s thesismates Tan, Seph & Marvs with Vans, and Sergeant. #NoCaptions

During this trip I learned a kayak will go down when it gets filled with water, which is why you have to turn it over once you reach the shore, taking out all the water and leaving it to dry. If you keep kayaking and it gets filled up, get yourself ready to swim back to shore. Note at the water levels in this photo with Tan and Seph in it.

The beach isn’t sandy. It’s well full of rocks (doh photo proof!).

The KFC Bucket I was talking about earlier.

The boys playing the card games.

Did I mention they’re very pet-friendly? Just look at Sergeant who’s everywhere, however it isn’t an excuse to leave poop lying around. Even if it makes a good fertilizer!

Anilao, ’til next time!

非禮勿視， 非禮勿聽，非禮勿言， 非禮勿動

Let me introduce you to my two insanely amazing men.

The Professor: Who has a pair of glasses that sees through you

I met Jim through a script writing workshop because I wanted to write a kick-ass story for a game. I originally wanted to apply in his apprenticeship program but when he asked me when I will submit my application, I told him I didn’t have the time. During those moments, I was also starting at a job (which I later quit). I started this job at a game company because I see myself making games and I wanted to know the corporate side. Jim wanted to know the Game Development world and I introduced him to the best people I know (Hi Kris, Alvin & Derrick!) We easily became friends and he introduced me to Jared, his son who loves games. We became good friends. Then one night, he shook me to do what I really want to do. Jim made me realize I wanted to retell a story and make it into a movie. No

Jim is a lot of things to a lot of people. But to me, he’s a life coach, my creative boss and my very good friend. I’m his dakilang kaladkarin. Right now, he’s my life professor and I’m his apprentice. But he’s more than a mentor, he’s a very good friend, a trust worthy confidant and the guy who will always have your back. I know he’ll always be there for me. Jim once told me during a car ride that I would be all the things I wanted to be, the question is only when I would want to be. He believes in me. And he loves me for who I am. Trust me, no one could love you like Jim Libiran could do.

I really look up to Jim. And I really respect everything he stands for. I know this will be a very long friendship because he’s one of those people who stays in your life. Because he’s sort of like me and we’re sort of crazy.

The magician: Who pulled a rabbit from his ears

I obviously met Charly through Jim. Charly is a very fun guy and you could always hear him laughing. People like Charly are amazing, they could make anything out of nothing. He really is the guy who can pull a rabbit out of thin air. Charly is one of the guys I could talk to about anything and he has amazing taste in music. There’s no person who dedicates himself the most to a project and into something he believes in like Charly. 

He has a tattoo on his back that looks like a tribal doodle but it really has the words “Testing the Strong Ones” in it. He’s one of the Strong Ones because I know whatever life throws at him would turn into something beautiful. Even Charly is surprised by how he manages to stitch the things he does. Frankly, no one could pull those things off like Charly. During one of our  conversations, he told me it’s not enough that you do things for other people. Don’t lose yourself in other people’s dream and go make your own. This year, I want to make my own dreams and Charly’s making his. He’s an amazing friend and he made other people’s dreams come true. It would be amazing to see him make his own dreams come true.

Last but not the least, the kid who finds the right words.

And who’s still working on those words! I would really want to thank Jim and Charly, most especially Jim, who has opened up this whole new world to me. I’m very thankful for everything I have learned, for the things I am still learning and for the things I have yet to learn. All I can do is promise to listen before I speak and look closely to see that things aren’t always want they seem. And that the universe unfolds right before our very eyes.

Thank you for a very fulfilling 2011.
Here’s to 2012, it’s going to be our year!

They say a furniture able to withstand time, years of appropriate usage and last longer than it should have deserves a high value, enough for it to be a collectible—an antique. For a furniture to last longer than the one who made it must mean it was built to last. Or maybe, it lasted long because it wasn’t used.

The beauty in this expensive acquisition is the fact it was made in a way no one could remake. Despite the current technology and the talented craftsman of our generation, one can never put a price on the perseverance of the man who etched these lines.  Although, there is something haunting in a wooden chair that’s been in this world at least 100 years before you were born.

While I love the smell of old things and old places, the eerie bothers me. As if the souls of the ones who used or who were still lingers in the air. There’s something about the blackness of creeks and spaces that consumes me. I have always felt a personal connection and a physical detachment.

I guess this must be why I suck in love.

December has always been melancholy. While I have layout a couple of posts and plans in my head, I never had the ‘go signal’ to write them. It is intoxicating. Although I figured why, I needed to write about this. 

Towards the end of my first year in college, I met this guy who was amazing. He wrote deeply & passionately about the things which mattered to him. Things he wanted to forget. Things he wanted to do- like forgive and let go. He seemed as broken as I was. The loneliness consoled me because I knew someone was going through the same deep hole I was stuck in. So, I tried, I tried to make him feel less lonely. At the moment, it was the least I could do.

The loneliness kept us company. Long conversations. Midnight walks. Philosophical arguments until the sun shine. I told him how much I loved mornings despite being a night owl. There was something in the cold morning breezes and sitting on top of the roof. It was magical to me. He thought it was beautiful and I felt like I could open myself up. Later on the same day, I gave him a hug.

Despite the constant communication, I felt the need to conceal myself behind walls. I knew he wanted to know me but it bothered me, enough to put too much in this relationship. What struck me the most was when he told me I was the risk he was sure to take because there was no high risk. So I concealed myself more. I promised myself to not allow him to love me in the way I wanted to be love. To make sure he could never point his finger at me and tell me I didn’t give enough. Because I am a calculated risk. He played his cards right.

I felt I was cheated on. He was my huge risk. Being the inexperience kid I was, I gave more than I should. And lost myself in the process. I never really knew where and when the us started. Although I do know he gave me the convenience of being himself around me. It was what I needed. To have someone who knew how to be himself around me. I didn’t judge him. I gave him all I could. But it drained the shitload of me.

I turned into this negative piece of shit with a trauma in social interaction. I am thankful for the friends who were there during my black hole, but I restricted myself to be in line with what interested him. Looking back, we were so common because I immersed myself in what his interest were.

Thus the symptoms: I stopped travelling. I started playing martial arts. I found myself enjoying but never playing video games. I found myself understanding algorithms but never coding. I found myself drafting but never finishing papers. I found myself thinking but never saying what was on mind. I got better with listening, asking questions and borrowing another person’s shoes. But I lost mine.

There was a sense of guilt. I now know it was the guilt of self-negligence. But I felt it was related to him. I didn’t know it was him that was causing my problems. In the attempts to not have any fingers pointed at me, I found myself fresh from a motorcycle accident in a trip to his place, with my knee wrapped in gauze. I found myself double the school load with 13 failed subjects to date. I found other people telling me I can willing drop everything if he needed something. I found myself with a 40 Celsius Degree fever tending to a constipated man. I found myself in 3AM bus rides 2 hours from where I lived. I found myself swallowing everything I believe in because I wasn’t enough. You’re great, don’t change. So I was great, I didn’t change. I didn’t grow.

In the middle of him needing to break out of the system, I found myself hanging. I couldn’t deliver. He was uninspired. Everyone wasn’t just good enough. I was thoroughly never enough. I guess that’s where we ended. Or I felt like we ended. Because he didn’t need me anymore. I couldn’t make him feel special. So he packed his bags, lived simply and stopped the conversations stop.

The day he left on a plane, I felt a hollow piece inside of me. But then I felt light, and suddenly, happy.

I ended it in my head and allowed myself to move on without saying anything. I know it is stupid, but the debate in my head ensured me I gave all there is. Turns out, it was the biggest revenge I could ever ploy. With the fact I did it subconsciously makes it even worse.

I played the victim and he is the man who did not reciprocate the love I gave  him. I was stupid. I still am. I crafted a  beautifully happy-looking relationship free of burden, anxiety and tension. We were so perfect together that we never were.

But then he returned, It came to a point he would pause to say I’m sorry I’m talking about myself again. I let him talk. I learned this relationship was doomed from the start because I built the walls and I couldn’t let them go. He didn’t want to break them. I never asked him too. There are more castles built more beautifully than the one I did. I had thorns and a hundred years worth of nightmares. I was never enough to make him stay. Because he never felt the need to break through this walls, he just needed me to make him feel special.

I owed him the honesty, I owed him the respect. But I didn’t pay it back. Because I knew he never paid back everything I offered. We were never fair, we were never equals. We never finished anything (other than our relationship). He would always let me down. He would never introduce me to people. And more importantly I never felt him standing up for me particularly when his family discriminated me for not being Chinese, or when his sister badmouthed me or treated me like I was a stranger. Despite his reassurance that he does stand up for me, he never did when the insults were thrown at me and he was there. I guess deeds never need to be told. Only done.

Why I didn’t end it when I could. It was one of the last questions he told me before he erased me in his world. It’s haunting, like the creeks in between furnitures, like a monster hides beneath the darkness.

Antiques: The beauty in this expensive acquisition is the fact that you can live in memories of the people who used to own it. They already know what they needed to do because they have grown to familiar to the people who were before them. There’s no need to break in. These are rare, the way they could last longer than they should. Antiques are beautiful and they may last long. But you don’t really need antiques.

He is my antique, the monster creeping in the dark. Sadly, I don’t want to live in another person’s memories. I’ll have it sold at a high price of facing myself with all fingers pointed right back at me. While he is a rare find, I don’t really need him.

In case you’re wondering, after being erased from his life, you can now find him writing deep thoughts, aspiring to be a builder of worlds which he will be marvelous at doing and living simply- whatever that means.

Me? I’m still working on the most important person in my life- myself.

I’ve always wanted a chinese/magsasaka hat or a “salakot”¹ so I could sit under a tree and watch the leaves fall down, maybe even fall asleep thinking. It’s the perfect scene to allow myself to contemplate as to why a lot of people are contented– happy– with their lives; why the happiest man only wanted to feel the sun. How can they be happy with just doing nothing. What is the happiness, in the context of doing nothing, being nothing or being content with nothing. Could I have been blinded by an ideal to grasp something that does not exist.

Somehow, along the way with no one in mind to blame, I’ve always believe in the hearts of (wo)men lies an adventure (s)he’ll die for, the one (s)he’ll leave everything behind to take in a heartbeat. The ultimate ambition to know this life is worth living.

Hey stranger, what is your deep burning ambition. The first thing in your mind right now. The thing you’ve placed in the backseat of your life because responsibility has drawn a wall between you & your dreams.

This is mostly a conversation with myself. I won’t lecture you on what to do with yours because you have to face that yourself. This is my first demon.

Due to an encounter placing my whole life on hold, I am now faced with a dilemma– a struggle to stop doing. I have forgotten how to exist without purpose. Without someone telling me what to do, how to do and when to do. I have taken in a lot of ‘responsibility’ to make myself believe I have a purpose, scattering myself too much. Too much to the point, I have forgotten who I am. Before I tear myself to too many pieces, I’m glad I can put my feet on the break. Before I slam into a wall because I’ve put who I am to sleep. I’ve gone used to auto-pilot or to having someone navigate for me, that it wasn’t me driving my life anymore. I could hit a full force collision & blame people for the damage but it was me who allowed it to happen.

When you’ve gotten used to living your life because of something that is not yourself, how do you live it when you are faced with the decision. When you’re on the crossroads, with no map, no signs, no direction. We can just exist; we can wait for the moment our heart stops beating, our minds stops working and our soul stops searching. Just like that, a life wanting to live itself but never lived its own.

This is a wake up call. To stop playing music on the background and feel the rhythm. To go back to the basics, learn how it is to live. To forget the means of living, and just live.

I don’t know what will happen, I could just detach myself to treat this as an emotional trauma. Be oblivious to the pain and allow life to happen. To accept I’m never bound for greatness, and all I ever needed to be was a mundane citizen of this world. While I might have dared to dream, took a step further and risk the pain, the dream ceases to exist and I will forever be asymptotic; I have to accept I can never push the limit. So that maybe, just maybe, I can.

¹ Obviously an EDIT. I now know what a magsasaka hat is in Tagalog, in case you missed it, it’s a salakot. Thanks to Vera! Hi Vera!

Hello World!

I think I giggled a little over the title post.

I used to blog a lot, posting day-to-day pictures of things I do, myself, and basically what’s happening in my life. It wasn’t for popularity, social presence or a field of interest. It’s fun. I liked it; ergo, I did it. In the middle of it, I slacked off. It turned into a sad excuse of “I’ll post this sometime then just change the date so it would be faithful to the event (and I’d look like a religious blogger.)” to “Oh I have all the time in world, I’ll just post it some other time because I have other things to do (which I end up not doing either.)”

I stopped. Completely. While there were sad attempts to bring back the tedious documentation of what happens in my life, the habit never returned.

I want this time to be different. I’m not going to oblige myself to post one post a day to make it a habit but I shouldn’t just stop. I’ve realized the importance of discipline, dedication and perseverance in every thing I’m doing– and how I need to stop planning things in my head & start doing.

I’m starting this new separate blog, as opposed to continuing the old one I have which I won’t delete, because of a huge bunch of shallow but reasonable arguments in my head. While I intentionally wanted this first post to be short, the words keep flowing. So maybe it’s not so hard to write after all. You know what they say it’s hard to start, but it’s also hard to stop.

Cheers to new beginnings, to moving forward & to doing things.