thoughts while in-transit

July 19 2010, 1035pm, in the shuttle to Doña Soledad

I learned how to read piano notes as early as 5. But I was one of those pupils intimidated by their quintessential old piano professors who exercised corporal punishment by slapping their students’ incompetent hands. I quit after I finished Grade 1 level. Over the years though, I found playing the piano therapeutic, so until now I try to learn pieces both classical and pop and Respekt (albeit more often than not unsuccessfully).

I figured that there are three piano skills one should acquire to attain mastery.

Assuming “mastery” = “the ability to sight-read”,

(1) One must be able to read notes, which could be acquired via formal lessons coupled with practice.
(2) One should learn how to optimize finger movement, which is actually taught in formal piano lessons.
(3) And my newest realization: One should be able to play the notes without actually looking at the music sheet, as it would be impossible to constantly glance back and forth from the sheet to the keys especially when the tempo is fast.

But there are many other definitions of mastery I cannot yet or ever deconstruct, like composing and playing by ear. Good luckt.

Insight of the night. Bow.


a confession

July 14, 2010, early evening.
Inside the jeep going to UP.

A documentation-worthy incident happened earlier in MRT:
After experiencing a grueling hour of MRT stress, I was finally offered an empty seat. I wasn’t dead tired nor on the verge of fainting or anything medically serious that would require me to sit by all means. But because (1) an empty seat presented itself in front of me, and (2) the population within radius knew the seat is mine… I took it, like a trip to jerusalem champ.

Then an old lady came by. She stood near me.
I did not give my seat to her.

I overthought. The moment of hesitation stretched and spanned until the train got to Quezon Avenue. I did not budge, no one did. Everyone was too comfortable in their seats and thoughts. But there’s no use rationalizing, as the population within radius knew that I should have given my seat because I was nearest to her.


It was the epitome of selfishness.
I felt disgusted with myself… I FEEL disgusted with myself.
Humanity’s selfishness is disgusting.

Only after the incident did I realize the gravity of what I did. At least I still realized…? But oh god that moment still haunts me until now that I’m encoding this for the blog post.

I refuse to cry over spilled milk.

Moving forward, I vow to do good deeds consciously with no question nor hesitation. Because I have the strength and the capability to do good, nothing more.

thoughts after losing my wallet

July 5, 2010, 9:29pm, as per the car clock
going home from work

I lost my wallet. I sulk, I sulk.

I realized my wallet was missing while I was finishing my conversation with Leon, who at that time posed another problem altogether as MFMC needed a deadline extension for the ad in Phil Star.
I tried calling Gian so he can help me negotiate the deadlines, so at least I could focus on finding my wallet. But he won’t pick-up his phone as evident by the constant ringing in the loudspeaker.

My tenses are all fucked up, aye.

Visual stressor (no wallet) + Aural stressor (constant ringing)
= It became harder for me to breathe.

My wallet just won’t show itself.
But what can I do?

I thought work has normalized. It hasn’t. But I’m still convinced that a few more nights of OT will make everything easier in the long run.

It is raining again.

Losing my wallet feels surreal.

if you pause for a while
and be hyperconscious
the world will feel surreal

eiga sai’s glasses (2007)

July 4, 2010 12:15pm as per the car clock
In the family car; we’re going to Lola Mama’s 81st birthday


Yesterday Az and I went to Shang to watch Eiga Sai.
While on the ticket queue, we chanced upon Homer, Az’s friend. His headphones eternally rested on his neck. Must be a music man.

After we got our tickets we had lunch at Food Court where for main course Az shared her spaghetti baon with us, and for dessert I shared my Nissin wafers and Kisses. We consciously ditched consumerism by not spending in the mall. You see, we can still go out, have fun, and when stomach complains: we eat home-cooked packed lunch without giving money to the conglomerates.


Review Proper of Glasses (2007)

Glasses lived up to the quintessential characteristics of an art film. Strange. Slow. Subtle.
But not at all boring.
It was profound yet feel-good. Gets? It was profound in an indiefilmway, yet feel-good in a chickflickway. The irony multiplies.
And it was unexpectedly peaceful.

Glasses left a strong aftertaste. After watching, I can almost smell the salty water and feel the sea breeze. The memory of the film’s scenes was a perfect simulation of basking under the sun’s glow and sky’s blue. It was an extraordinary vicarious beach experience, perfect for worn-out corporate slaves who yearn for a respite from urban stress (me).

Notable Metaphors (spoiler alert)

1) Part when Taeko walked back to the Hamada tired and regretful. Sakura-san saw her and fetched her via the tricycle. Taeko left her baggage, as it is too heavy and filled with unnecessary things.
→ She was converted right then and there, literally leaving her baggage behind (though I don’t think this idiom translates the same figurative meaning to Japanese)

2) All the characters were in awe of Sakura-San. Her coming to the island always signaled the start of the “period” where the characters are all there.
→ Perhaps Sakura is not necessarily a person. She might symbolize Spring (season) since Sakuras bloom during spring. She emulates the beauty of the season, which brings people together.