Knowing Smile

#92: Knowing His Smile

We had a neighbor before who, for very some strange reason, reminds me of both the sun and the rain, the summer and autumn, all at the same time. He was my first crush – the boy who had deep brown eyes you could drown in and a smile so bright he practically shines. And I, was the unfortunate duckling – the dark scrawny kid who had androgynous haircuts and teeth that were 5 years too big.

I ran after him like a nut. Of course, now I understand what a tremendously horrific prospect that must have been for him. Looking back, I think I would've run away from me if I were him. But he was actually nice enough to be kind to me. He never showed me any hint of meanness. He just smiled. Even when things got awkward, he just smiled. Sometimes it was a smile mixed with confusion. Sometimes, it was a smile to be polite. At other times, it was a smile mixed with pity that he had tried but failed to hide. He probably didn’t have the heart to tell me that I was freaking him out and that his life would be so much easier if he didn’t have me dogging him like a lovesick puppy.

He moved to Maryland before we hit High School. From time to time he’d come back to the Philippines and each time, I would tell myself that I would be better. I will grow my face to match the size of my teeth. I will grow more acceptable as a girl, and look less like a mountain goat. I did all of those and maybe a little bit more. But I never won him. It seemed like the more I tried, the farther he grew.

But he never grew tired of smiling.

Of course I was young and stupid then. But now I understand. Now that I know that my color is beautiful and that my teeth are just the right size, I now know why. I have learned that I could never force someone to like me; I could only try. And after all cards have been laid, I can only hope. And hope as well that I will know when and how to graciously walk away when it’s all over.

Sometimes, when I cannot reciprocate the attention or affection being offered, I catch a glimpse of my reflection on some shiny surface and see my smile mixed with all the things I saw in his – the confusion, politeness, pity, and ultimately the kindness of not letting me see behind his smile.

Prince of Pool

#91: I'm a Pool For You



I remember playing pool with our Global Trade Marketing & Channel Manager a couple of years ago. He's British, plays a mean game of 8 Ball and I was delighted that he was my teammate. We were beating the crap out of our other officemates when I missed my shot at the last ball. Yes, I basically gave the whole game to the other team. He probably wanted to bloody strangle me. Or stab me with a cue stick.

The last time I played pool was last year with this person I wanted to stab with my cue stick. He was obsessed about beating me in the game that he totally forgot to have fun. Or he was having sick fun and I totally forgot to share it. Haven't gone near a pool table again since.

But hey, here's one dude I wouldn't mind playing pool with. Yes, even losing to - bloody cue stick and all.

Alexander Walker Lives, William Ages

#90: Feeling Very British today, aren't we?

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Just got home from the advanced screening of Monster-in-Law - a movie which would've worked if the lead actress hadn't been Jennifer Lopez. That and if the script had been a notch better than cereal carton blurbs. Jane Fonda's acting was acceptable. Wanda Sykes was talented enough to make something out of otherwise 'blah' lines. Michael Vartan, well, he just looked good. The dynamics between him and J.Lo was not credible. Neither was his attempt at portraying a doctor. (Come on. Keanu was more believable as a doctor in "Something's Gotta Give." Bill-and-Ted accent and all.) He just looked good. (Oh. I said that already?)
*** Bottomline: Below Expectations.

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Batman Begins is another story. That movie I loved. (To think that I watched it with the least likely person I'd spend a Friday evening with.) Christian Bale is not your typical hottie-who-overshadows-the-character actor. He has always been a good actor, even from way back his "Empire of the Sun" days, so it wasn't surprising that he was able to give a new shade of depth to the persona of Batman. I don't like Katie Holmes. (From way back her Dawson's Creek days. I find it annoying the way she twitches or gives her signature "I-can't-believe-I'm-saying-this" head shake when she delivers her lines.) But in the movie, the camera didn't stay so long on her character, cutting the window of possibility of her ticks distracting the viewer from the meat of the scene. That probably explains why I didn't come out of the movie disliking her more. I also appreciated the way the story unfolded. It took the viewer (comicbook-ignorantes like me included) by the hand and led him carefully into seeing the process by which Batman became Batman.
*** Bottomline: Above Expectations. Bravo.

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Mr & Mrs Smith from two Mondays ago was hmm... ok. Beautyfest is what it is. The story didn't have to matter. The audience didn't have to see how predictable the storyline was or how shabbily tied the ending was. They just had to keep themselves from alternately drooling over Angelina and Brad Pitt.
*** Bottomline: Within expectations. Nothing great about it but no regrets having seen it.

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Happy Birthday to William!

As if naming my first real company car after you wasn't enough, now I'm sending you birthday greetings. Yes, from Manila to Wales. Or are you in Scotland now?

Two wishes:
1. May you never tire of flashing that Princess Diana-esque smile
2. And may you find a way to keep yourself from balding like your father, Prince Charles.

So when will you come and sweep me off my feet?

Excuse Me

#89: I'm Stepping Out

The trick is to put a veil over your brain and glaze over your eyes. Then you can float safely out of the conversation and shut out the meanness or the meaninglessness of the chatter of poseurs.

True brilliance can never surface in the presence of arrogance. Haughtiness is a cloudifier. An impurity. An invitation to be struck down. The prequel to the fall.

When you're done with the posturing, call me.

Classic Jodie and Cholo Moment 

Korean Soaps

#88: The Case for Korean Men

I wonder if he thinks his moustache compensates for his lack of character.

I am left to muse on the useless and the unrelated because the 2nd disc of the Korean telenovela I'm watching refuses to work. (Count how many "use's" there are in that sentence.) So is Charlie's crime justified by his overwhelming love for Jodie? Can one say Cholo's love is less because it's not more than Charlie's? Can a guy really hang on for 10 years (or more?) to wait for the one he has loved all his life? Really? Even when there is a low-hanging fruit nearby? Are these things worth watching at all? I suppose, to get a good cry. And to wonder how it feels to be loved like Jodie. Or at least to wonder if such a thing is realistic.

My mom is a fan of Korean men. Or at least of Korean male lead characters. She wants a Korean man for me. (Or at least a male lead character who loves like the lead characters in Korean soap operas.) Our maid wants to be a Korean when she grows up. Silly girl. So we fight over who gets Cholo. She thinks he'll choose her because she knows how to wash cars properly. I have better teeth. But I'm sure he'll choose Jodie. Forever.

I have nothing against Koreans. Or Chinese. Or Asians in general. I just like to see the other person's eyes. Will toothpicks at the sides help widen them? Or should we use transparent tape to glue the lids closer to the forehead? (Just like those insta-facelift kits they used to sell in Home TV Shopping.)

I'm sure they wouldn't want me either. Have you seen the skin of Korean women? Flawless. That's what Othello was pertaining to when he said, "skin as white as alabaster." And they don't have pores. They sweat through their nostrils. (I guess.)

I am Mocha Frap brown and will never be used to saying "Umpa!" without snickering. (Plus my nose is too small to allow massive sweat to pass through. No, I don't plan to buy Cleopatra's instant noselift via spring-insertion system from Home TV Shopping either.) And I can't cry as much. Or be as weak. Or die in the end of some disease which I won't tell the world about until I practically have to be fed intravenously. (Yes, that's how all Korean leading ladies are: they cry a lot then they die.)

I just want my disc 2 to work. Is that too much to ask? Or do I need to cry now?

P.S.
The first line is not connected to the post. I was just wondering why evil continues to exist in the form of some moustached men.

In Praise of Boundaries

#87: Excerpts from an old Harvard Business Review article

Lifted from HBR Senior Editor Diane L. Coutu's interview with Judith Martin, Washington D.C.

"[Etiquette is in trouble at the workplace] partly because of naturalism. An unfortunate part of the "I want to be me" movement has been the idea that there is no distinction between your business life and your personal life. People treat colleagues as friends and family - often to disastrous effect.

Unfortunately, the pseudofriendliness, personal e-mail, and office collections for the umpteenth bridal or baby shower have destroyed the sense of boundaries that characterizes professional behavior. If we hope to reassure our customers that we are indeed professional, we need to be aware of those boundaries. But in our relationships with colleagues, we also need to acknowledge that we are often too distant from our coworkers to resolve problems on a personal level. At home, if your stereo is loud, your partner feels free to say, "Honey, will you turn that thing down? It's driving me crazy." And you will know him well enough to answer, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were trying to read." But at work, if the person in the next cubicle is being loud, you can't really solve the problem with that sort of exchange, because the worker in the next cube is not a friend of yours. That's where office etiquette comes in. Setting formal limits to behavior reduces the chance of conflict from the outset. Rules decree whether or not you can play music or take personal calls in open space. We need such rules to keep people from upsetting one another unnecessarily.

[I also absolutely disapprove of business retreats.] I sincerely hope that we're seeing the end of retreats. This personalization of business relationships is misguided. For one thing, it's expensive to have people climb poles or shoot at one another with paint guns. But the more depressing thing is that it's taken us half a century to realize that when you remove everybody's inhibitions, you create more problems than you do solve. Regrettably, the whole retreat thing started with touchy-feely consultants who believed that if we all loved one another, then good behavior would follow. Whatever made anyone believe that? Think about it: People marry because they love each other, and good behavior does not necessarily follow. People love their children, and good behavior doesn't necessarily follow. Love is no guarantee, and we certainly don't love everybody in our business environment."

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Quick Notes from the article:
1. Boundaries are good and necessary.
2. Do not attempt to remove everybody's inhibitions.
3. Whoever believes that love in workplace increases productivity is misguided.
4. Respect for personal space is more important than warmth.
5. Get rid of touchy-feely retreat advocates.

Rain, Rain

#86: Go Away


 

I went out and played under the pouring rain today.

My brother was configuring his new Apple Powerbook and I was working on this travel piece I promised my friend. It was raining outside. Out of nowhere, my brother "hopped" over to where I was and proposed the concept of running outside and getting wet in the rain... like we used to do when we were kids. Ye!!!

Without giving it a second thought, I dashed outside with him and rushed to meet the rain. Our dad saw us fly past him giggling but he had no idea what we were up to. It was liberating. It was pure joy.

The rain wasn't as strong as we thought. It didn't help that we had a huge mango tree in the yard filtering the raindrops and we couldn't go to the roof or out to the street like little kids because we were a bit too big (and already around 20 years too old) for that. I got the hose to help the rain out. More hopping. More giggling. This moment I will keep until I'm old.

You see, my brother is leaving for the US in two months. He'll be taking up his Masters in San Francisco and will be there for at least two years - at most, for good. I do not know when I will see him next since we're at that point wherein we're supposed to be building our own lives already. I just know that I will no longer have someone to watch ETC with at night when the rest of the house is already fast asleep. I will no longer have someone who knows the history of the song "Hoi" or the greeting "Mmmbye." It will be rare to have someone say out loud the same thoughts you have in your head at the same time they need to be said. Just today, we had two of those: "Wag lang pizza!" and "Uy. Parang Pinay!" which sent us both bursting into laughter and instantaneously getting freaked out.

When he leaves, no one will work on my Photoshop-needy projects for free anymore. No one will rave about the coolest music artists or the newest songs or the hottest cars or the funniest movies in the middle of something else you'd rather do or listen to. Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien late at night will no longer be as hilarious. There will be no more shared stories of Adam and Helene, Trista and Ryan, Erin and Chad.

I will probably be forced to add him to my Friendster network... or invite him one of these days to actually view my blog... maybe even chat over YM - things we never found much use for since we were no more than an arm's reach from each other.

In two months, he'll be 7,000 miles and US$700 away. And that is why hopping in the rain with him today needed no second thoughts. Let me hoard memories with him while they're still free.

Missing Earring... 

High - Low

#85: Friday Rundown

I used to play High-Low with a friend. We got it from this movie starring Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer. That person is gone but let me see if I can still put some high-lows together.

1. On Lunch
(+) Had free lunch at Pho Hoa with a fellow pundit. Intensely enjoyed the conversation.
(-) Threw up all the food because of the beverage I ordered (Don't mix milk with your coffee jelly when you're eating something with sugared vinegar Bleh.) Intensely disliked seeing my lunch in reverse.

2. On The Feature Film for this Friday
(+) Watched "A Lot Like Love" complete with corndog, barbecue-flavored popcorn and grape lemonade. There was chemistry between Ashton Kutcher and Amanda Peet, and a couple of quite endearing moments.
(-) Plot was predictable and ordinary. And some characters kept on repeating bloody lines throughout the film.

3. On Favorite Things
(+) Bought Jack Johnson's new CD! (Love this guy. I was so excited to let my friend listen to his other CD last year. My friend just gave me a blank look and a polite smile. Jack Johnson's brilliance was totally lost on him.) "Banana Pancakes" and "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing" from this new album are cool.
(-) Lost an earring. Argh. Ye, my favorite one too. The chandelier ones I bought in Bangkok last year for only 150Baht. Pretty ones that always get compliments. It won't be a pretty sight to have me wear the remaining one on just one ear now, will it? And you know I'll be restless until I find a suitable replacement. Yech.

4. On Teas
(+) Had this incredible Blueberry Tea Latte at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. (Am I the only one addicted to tea latte? This stuff is good! I'd always choose to go to CB&TL over Starbucks or Seattle's Best or Figaro any day. Really. Plus they have Pink Cards. I'm a sucker for loyalty stuff.)
(-) Their Iced Tea sucks. Bleh is the only word that comes to mind. This then drove us to Seattle's Best to order Mango & Strawberry X-Tea which Cathy ended up hating. I downed it and gained for myself another pound or two. (Keep them coming! There's no use saying that your metabolism slows down when you reach your late 20's without being able to prove it in a very visible and measurable way! Who's afraid of the big, bad pounds? Uhm... actually, I am.)

5. On Friends
(+) Got an encouraging text from a new office friend and a new laptop bag from my old office friend. Coolness.
(-) Got to see for myself that those who sound really good on the phone are the ones that really don't look it. (How come I don't believe my friends when they tell me these things?)

Express Yourself

#84: Ye, Mariana Means Something

"Ye."

I like the sound of that word. It's distinguishable as a "yes" or a "yep" but not completely there. It probably leaves the listener wanting to put an "s" at the end or perhaps a "p"... maybe even an "ah"... but feeling absolutely helpless to do anything about it (or feeling dorky about wanting to do something about such a petty thing.)

You see, I'm conducting this experiment. I'd like to see who gets bothered by the "Ye" and who gets to assimilate it into their vocabulary.

Earlier today, my boss was pushed to the breaking point and had to ask me in a mock-irritated pitch, "What the heck is 'Mariana?'" I gave him an innocent look. Why should it matter what it means? You know it's an expression - an interjection, a filler.

"Traffic was horrible this morning! This intersection was unbelievably jammed with at least 4 cars trying to lock themselves in an unbreakable grid. Mariana!"

Well, he's not the only one to ask. This colleague of mine once sat across me and gave me this very serious look (the peering-over-invisible-glasses look with a touch of the trying-to-avoid-glare-from-the-sun look), "So tell me. What does Mariana mean?" Another officemate (the one who was supposed to have been my direct boss) heard me mutter "Mariana" and declared with glee, "Mariana? Hey I like that expression!"

Well, I told my boss that he didn't need to know. He said he did. Fine. Mariana is an expression I made up to replace 'Maryosep.'" When I found out that "Susmaryosep" stood for "Jesus-Maria-Joseph," I was appalled at the blatant misuse of the Lord's name. I replaced "Sus" with "Sows" and "Maryosep" with "Mariana." So that's the lengthy version. I merely told my boss, "Mariana" is a sosyal "Maryosep." End of story.

He wanted to kick his head for even asking me. (Or maybe what he really wanted to do was kick my head for making him curious enough to ask me.)

In case you want to know, I also use "Fart" and "Fudge" because I don't say "F*ck." I'd rather say "crap" than "sh*t" and "darn" than "damn."

Does it matter? Well, it doesn't have to matter to anyone else but to me it does. Does it make any sense? Probably not but it works in my head so that's reason enough, ye?

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So what's your uniquely weird/weirdly unique expression?