i'm lovesick somewhere tonight

I've been pretty vocal about the fact that I find Gavin DeGraw's second album a bit of a letdown. That's just the way it is—despite the fact that I'd rather feel otherwise.

There are good tracks in it, though. "Untamed" usually gets me in the mood to air-piano, so it's best not to listen to that while in the workplace, or anywhere in public, for that matter. "Relative" is the obligatory quintessential rock 'n' roll number—quite the counterpart of "Chemical Party" in Chariot, albeit somewhat louder and more angsty. Good thing the lyrics more than make up for the predictable arrangement.

"Cop Stop" is a good song, but I like his almost over-the-top live performance of it much better. "She Holds a Key", on the other hand, has a better-sounding studio version, particularly because the heavier lyrics ("Listen, you sinner—I'm sinning, too / Just wait until the darkness falls so I can sin with you") can hold up to a more dramatic arrangement and background vocals. The same goes for "Young Love" ("You're the young woman cast aside, ostracized / Left on the sidewalk of my lonely life"), so much that they sound nearly too similar. The obvious solution is to separate them in the track list, which was exactly what Gavin DeGraw did.

Finally, there's "Cheated On Me", which is a nice song to sing along to if you're in an especially drunken, woe-is-me state. Ironically, I hated it the first time I played it, and skipped the track a few seconds into the song. I found the loud, heavy guitar intro too overdone, and couldn't suppress rolling my eyes as the riffs gave way to a melody accompanied primarily by high piano notes. So what else is new?

It sounds better after a while, though, especially when listened to more closely. For instance, the first line ("I'm lovesick somewhere tonight") transforms from ho-hum to quaint merely by repetition—it's sung twice in succession, with slight changes in the melody, and the treatment works. And the melding of piano and acoustic guitar on the stanzas is seamless.

So where do I plan on taking this, after that extended introduction? You might feel the urge to hurt me, but the gist of this entry is twofold, and quite shallow, even by my standards.

First, the music video for "Cheated On Me" is finally out, and I just want to say that I absolutely hate it. It's got all that exaggerated music video elements: cheesy plot, conceited solo moments, facial features contorted this way and that to express broken-heartedness while singing into the camera.

As for the acting—well, don't get me started on that. It pains me so. And why is Gavin DeGraw, who came out with an anti-video video for "Chariot" some years back, making puppy-dog faces at me while singing his latest single? I'm confused.

The second thing I want to say, however, is that there's one good part in the video: when he throws that wineglass against the wall. Not that I'm for violence, but wineglass-throwing ranks high in my list of things to try out. There hasn't been any event in my life that merits the occasion, but I do admit to having had my share of beer-bottle hurling. Still, wineglasses are on a higher level than beer bottles.

In the future, if you run into me in some social gathering and you see me contemplating a wineglass, it might be best to stay far away.

the big three

What is this? Three months since my last post? I've neglected this space too long that I've actually forgotten about it. And it took three tries before I guessed the correct username-password combination for this account. (I hardly ever use the same combination more than three times. Blame it on paranoia.)

Haven't been that busy, come to think of it, especially as there'd been plenty of instances when I'd whiled time away messing around with Facebook. So I have a Facebook account, but don't shoot me just yet--I maintain that it's for industry connections. (Yeah, right.)

So, three updates to fill the void created by my three-month absence:

1. Loving work despite the fact that I'm not much better off, financially speaking, than I was months back--and this after several paychecks. I've survived two issues, so far, and I'm looking forward to starting on our September issue. Can't wait to get my hands on the vehicles for Big Test, but must not appear too excited lest the bosses decide to hide the keys from me. I'll promise to behave, but I wonder if I'd be able to control myself once I'm actually behind the wheel. Drift, drift! Kidding. I've already tried out drifting, by the way, and I luuuurv it.

2. I'm considering renting a place either in Mandaluyong or Pasig. The drive to and from work is tiring, and the fuel price hikes every week don't make it any easier on my nerves. God knows how hard it's been on me the past few months, this whole practice of keeping my foot light on the accelerator and not flooring the damned pedal even when I am so itching to do so. More than maturity and five months of California driving, the price of fuel has taught me that patience (shudders) is indeed a virtue. Slowpoke. Party-pooper. Killjoy!

3. For the lack of a third interesting-enough item to put here, I leave you with the promise of more blog entries every now and again. (Actually, my boss just passed by my workstation. Not that he's against Net surfing during slow days, but I'm such an uptight do-gooder that I want to wrap this up as quickly as possible, haha.)

Cheerio.

vote for cook!

Oh my God. I had three hours of shut-eye the other night and haven't slept since, and I'm here blogging because I have to put it down right here that David Cook's version of "Always Be My Baby" by Mariah Carey on this week's American Idol is beyond amazing and awesome. This might be the start of me as a sap, but oh my God.

I never raved over any AI performance before. I might be slightly delirious now from lack of sleep, but I think my reaction would've been no different had I watched the show (the replay, actually, since I got home late) with a clear head. David Cook's always been one of my bets even earlier on in the season, but every now and again his cockiness would turn me off.

He's now redeemed in my book, as far as I'm concerned - brilliant cover, and the arrangement and vocals were perfect. I especially like the part when he goes into the chorus the first time, after a slightly longer suspension of the first verse's last note. It really preempted what the listeners were in for. Love, love, love, love, love.

And to think I don't really like the original version of the song. Of course I know it by heart - I doubt there's anybody who grew up, or was living and breathing, in the '90s that doesn't. I was thinking before the show that it would be pretty interesting if one of the male idols did a cover of it since it's Mariah week and all, but I wasn't expecting anything this good. David Cook didn't sound cocky at all; he was confident, but in an earnest and sincere way, and that's what made it work. If I were even half a notch more emotional, I just might have started bawling on the spot. As it was, I sat stunned for the longest time in front of the TV.

I am definitely downloading the studio version. This cover has scored a spot on my list of all-time favorites.

you and i, we'll escape to the seaside

Picked up my guitar again after two weeks of letting it gather dust in one corner of my room, and my left middle finger started bleeding around thirty minutes in. As much as I like trying to play the guitar, I think my hands aren't made for it, or for any musical instrument, at that. Not like it's going to stop me from making noise. (I was a notch better than okay at the drums. It seems whacking at something with a pair of sticks comes naturally to me.)

Anyway, there's nothing much I can talk about for now, because I've made my call and am still waiting for others to either fold or raise me before I can be bothered to consider my cards again. I'm getting pretty good at doing what I can and not worrying about what I don't have control over.

But in case it's listening - Universe, I really think I'm ready for a permanent job. And I hope I get paid for my freelance gig soon.

---

Since floating requires floating music, here's one I've been letting swirl in my mind (this entry's title is a line from this song). They've got several songs like this, so they're fast becoming a favorite band. They've got faster, louder ones too. Neat package.

oh me flipping geez, i just got it

Okay, blame this on my imagination - it's got feet of its own and likes to sprint ahead of me. It's got wings too, but only uses them as a last resort, whenever I get too close. As it is, that hardly ever happens.

So this guy Jason Castro has been collecting more and more fangirls since the start of American Idol this season, maybe a bit more so because of his charm, although I have to admit he's got talent as well - he rocked the cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" when he did it a couple of weeks back. Still, I can't say he's my favorite; he's okay, but right now I have David Cook and Carly Smithson as my bets. (I don't like Brooke White at all. She sings well enough, but her syrupy sweetness is too good to be true, it almost seems fake. Sorry.)

Anyway, Jason Castro reminds me of somebody, and I've been trying to figure out who it is for weeks. Male, yes; young, definitely. Not the exact same hair, but somebody with long hair; somebody who doesn't really sing, but maybe has a similar personality - what, charming? Goofy? I had no idea.

And then the answer finally occurred to me tonight, while watching Jason Castro singing "Michelle" by the Beatles (and Simon Cowell was right, it was his face that sold the song, because he looked ready to laugh at himself in the middle of the French lines):

Dude, it's Duo Maxwell come to life. With dreadlocks.

I can't believe I didn't see it before! And now this new knowledge is bound to distract me, because every time I watch him perform, I'll be half-expecting the Gundam Deathscythe to come swooping in and take a swipe at the judges.

because you might want to wish me luck (i need it)

I swear, this series of job applications had better pan out. I can still hold my own and not ask for money from the folks (it's enough that I'm already too much at their mercy), but this bumming thing at home won't do. I did say I'll wait till the fizzle of February's all gone, then start moving in for the kill this March.

Besides, better get things done now while the sugar level is still up. Billy Joel seems to work for me, in a weird way - Glass Houses is my loop album right now. It makes my father proud. Listening to a bit of Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, Cream, and Queen as well, although I have to remember to skip the song "Bicycle Race" in Queen's Greatest Hits I, as it makes me want to stand up and break something.

because i really need to (and mean well when i) say this

This is going to be a display of total diva attitude, but I might as well get it over and done with. I’m tolerant of people, and have somewhat learned to be sociable, even friendly, without wanting to kill myself by the end of the day. To people I know well and am close to I’m quite lippy and outgoing, but to strangers and acquaintances I’m civil and nice enough. I promise.

It doesn’t take a month or so for anybody to realize I’m a privacy and control freak. I had very little breathing space and democratic rights (within the house, at least) growing up, so I tend to overdo it right now – don’t try to force your way into my bubble or tell me what to do, especially when you don’t know any better; ask me questions and let me choose whether or not I want to respond instead of assuming, or worse, presuming, my answer; don’t give your advice unless I ask for it, because I am aware of my limitations and do ask for help and feedback when I know I can use it (happens quite frequently too); don’t tell me that I’m young and don’t know what I’m doing – years aren't the only thing that contribute to wisdom, and, when you think about it, nobody really knows a hundred per cent what they’re doing. Most of all, don't get so chummy when we've met just a few months back, or clingy when we're finally friends.

Those are just some of the big things that me no likey.

As for the everyday stuff: please knock on my door; please clean up after your mess if you are invited to enter my space (which I keep livable – a nice balance of neatness and confusion; this also includes my car, which is already enough of a wreck without your help, thank you very much); please take good care of the things you borrow from me, especially my books; please don’t read my emails or my journal when you think I’m not looking; please don’t ask me questions that you know I will not answer, because it won’t really get you anywhere, unless you are intentionally out to spite me; please don’t tell me, especially if we’re not really pals, unnecessary details about all aspects of your life (most notably your sex life or lack thereof), unless you want me to intentionally dislike you.

(Oh, by the way, I do know I’m abusing the semi-colon here and am not exactly using it by the rules every single time; there’s no need to tell me about it.)

And finally, for the itch that has provoked me to tap away at my keyboards in an attempt to restrain myself from clawing away at some random person’s face: please do not just give my contact details to anybody, except the following – people who might seriously consider hiring me for a decent job; people to whom you know I have given my contact details, but have lost them one way or another; people who you’re sure are close friends; people who are trying to contact me in the event of an emergency. For my purposes, an emergency is when people are sick, dying, or already dead. Let's put it there for now; I can expand the criteria as we go along.

It really, really, really riles me up when I’m contacted by some person I don’t know and/or don’t want to talk to other than in person, maybe because we’re not really close, or it’s not worth it. Pyramiding scams instantly put me in a violent mood, and getting a message dripping with chumminess from somebody I’m not at all close to, or don’t even like, might as well be an ice pick through my neck. I respect people when they give me their numbers or email addresses and don’t go handing these out like flyers; recently, I’ve taken to saying, “Hey X, will you ask Y if you can please give me his/her contact details? Or at least, give him/her my number, and ask him/her to please get in touch with me, it’s really important.” I don’t want to invade the privacy of others because I know how it feels (and Lily, I can never apologize enough for your being inconvenienced on my behalf – so sorry).

I sincerely feel bad for having an outburst like this. I try hard enough to respect other people and not to overstep my boundaries, and I just want them to return the favor. Even a visible attempt will do. I know I won’t always have a room (fitted with a solid door and a lock) inside which I can closet myself, but every now and again I need to twirl about with my arms spread out and not hit anybody. We all need that – some just more frequently than others.

And now, having restored my heart back to its normal size, I can look forward to a night of sleep.

because you have to deal with the past to get on with the present

I'm helping someone get into nursing school; she's over forty and has to resign from her job of over twenty years to go for it, and it's easy to understand her apprehension regarding this business of uprooting herself from the work force and sitting herself inside a classroom where probably everybody - professor included - is younger than she is.

"Do students still raise their hands in class?" she asks, and I tell her that I suppose they do; in UP, it is common practice and courtesy even when some professors say it's all right to just speak up.

"Do they still stand up when they recite?"

I honestly don't know. I last did that when I was in high school, but maybe that's still the rule in some colleges and universities. I have a friend who went to a Catholic university and she said they had to pray before classes start.

Inevitably, easing her back into school life gets me thinking about the over-abused, over-analyzed (by relatives, mostly) what-could've-been. I'd have made a decent doctor, I think, and a thumping good one too, supposing I had gone on as planned - decent in that I'd never have sacrificed humanity and compassion (shrieks all around; is she capable of that?) to make my life easier. Empathy, once you get the hang of it, is hard to unlearn. And I'm a capable student as well - if not so high IQ, at least hardworking and perseverant, most of the time stubbornly so. (Which reminds me, I have yet to master the often-underrated skill of knowing when to give up.)

So even one of the corniest of all wise-sayings in the book is true, that childhood dreams stay with you even they have been acknowledged as beyond fulfillment (a corrolary of this, that first love never dies, also seems to hold true, for I have seen actual instances of people persisting on it despite being decades too late). I did a good job of burying it away, my dream of becoming a doctor; it's just one of the things you have to do to get on with life. Perhaps I might have had the talent for it, as I believe; perhaps not. I do not regret changing lanes at the last minute because I'm starting to believe I can do things here where I've chosen to go; I was born with some ability, and as for building from this I have no qualms, since I'm predisposed to learning as much as I can about everything and anything. I guess it makes me sad that I'll never get to be a doctor (oh, I'll never get to slit somebody open), now that I finally have the time to think about it. Or should I say, now that I finally let myself think about it. It's something I've postponed addressing, maybe because I was trying to make the move easier on me, or because I was too young then to turn the matter over and over in my head in an attempt to figure it out.

Fortunately, it will never be a frustration; I've had my share of medical talk and hospitals and rehabilitation centers (when I was abroad) to assure me, just recently, that I was on the money when I said years ago that I'll never survive a doctor's life and lifestyle. True, I would've been a capable doctor, but I would've gone insane soon enough. Lucky if I even lasted two years. Still, it will always be a fascination; the first time I got my hands on a human brain (nothing illegal; it was for class), I had to restrain myself from skipping out of the room, cackling. While I was able to exercise better control over my emotions from then on, a manic grin still wipes over my face whenever there are human body parts, however inconsequential or unimpressive, within a radius of twenty yards.

It stays with you and you learn to deal with it. Straightforward enough, if not always a simple feat.

(And so much for this project. Next.)

because i feel like being lippy

Dad's got a new toy. Again. This time it's a Honda HR-V that he bought secondhand, but might as well be brand-new. It's okay, I guess, but I prefer beat-up cars like Chester, dents, scrapes, quirks and all. This new car is too nice-looking, too clean and almost too edgy (I mean, compared to mom's car, my car, and the old red pickup I've nicknamed CB, short for Crash Bang). I can't even figure out what color it is - way past blue, but not quite purple just yet.

I therefore decided that the only name that could be given to this vehicle is Michael Giovani Kelso. Kelso, for short. The name was at the tip of my tongue last night, and I spent a good two hours staring at my ceiling, trying to remember the name. I gave up around three o'clock, went online to check, and was finally able to fall asleep.

Anyway, I was able to try out Kelso just this afternoon. Dad decided to let me go by myself; either a) he trusts my driving skills enough - I mean, hi, if I were that bad a driver, I'd have managed to get myself killed by now, or worse, arrested; or b) he must have imagined me using the car as a battering ram, and preferred not to be a front-seat audience to that. I'm pretty sure it was letter b, since he sent me a message around three in the afternoon, just as I was meeting B, to ask if I could drive him to Ortigas. He intended to leave mom's car at the AS parking lot and hitch a ride with me and Kelso.

Don't ask; it was probably to make sure the car is still intact. I'm not really interested; I wish I have Chester back, but he's been employed by dad to work in the company, shuttling one of the engineers around.

Such is life.

---

The week so far:

Monday - got kidnapped by K to go to M's; it was the most worthwhile thing I've done (or got dragged into, but no qualms) since I got back last month

Tuesday - met up with HP at a place called I Have Two Eggs, where he had four eggs; had lunch with Y at the Chocolate Kiss in UP; was, needless to say, considerably less well-off than I had been the day before

Wednesday - peace! quiet! solitude! wallet intact! I love Wednesdays!

Thursday - met up with R, an orgmate, to conduct business; treated B to lunch at the Chocolate Kiss, where I made him eat half my order of french fries, and most of my Kahlua butter cake; am now ready to file for bankruptcy

---

I Have Two Eggs was cool; nothing special going on with the food, really, except that eggs come in twos per serving. I wonder why HP and I never thought of that; he ordered the Goto Galore and two sunny side-ups. Turned out the Goto Galore had two hard-boiled eggs in it, and it was priceless, the way HP's eyebrows shot up when he realized his mistake. By the end of the meal, his eyes were glassy, and he looked ready to pass out.

The place was featured in the Jade Castro film Endo (starring Jason Abalos and Ina Feleo); that's what really got us to go there. It was a pilgrimage of sorts. The annoying is that it's located in the South Triangle (my father'd probably argue that it's not; it's located along Tomas Morato and strictly speaking that's outside the triangle, but I say Tomas Morato is adjacent to one of the sides of the triangle so it doesn't make much of a difference). The South Triangle might as well be the Bermuda Triangle, as far as I'm concerned. I can never keep track of all those Scouts. I'm sorry they died a tragic death, but that doesn't make my confusion any less. I suppose the Big Bad Network's being right there, smack in the middle of the Triangle, has an effect as well - it sucks you off the face of the world so it can have an unlimited supply of slaves to use as PAs, extras, gofers, whatever else have you.

Yes. That's my theory. All the more reason for me to stay well away from the Timog/TM area. I might get abducted, and next thing I know I'm part of the Wowowee audience.

(P.S. If there's anybody interested in dropping by I Have Two Eggs for whatever reason, it's at Tomas Morato corner Scout Borromeo. It's along the Scout Borromeo side, across the street from Alex III. Beware the double serving of eggs.)

fairytale love

The last time I went music shopping in Berkeley, I picked up Sara Bareilles' Little Voice because she was featured on VH1's "You Oughta Know" that month, and because the CD was on sale. The only thing I've heard off of her album then was "Love Song" - a good introduction to her music, though I sometimes found it annoying because I kept hearing it on the radio and the bouncy, happy pop melody was something I found intolerable on a daily basis.

"Fairytale" was immediately a favorite from the first time I played her CD, and now after seeing the video I can say that I luuuuurv it very much. It cheers me up when I listen to it, and that's saying a lot.

They used the stripped version for the video, and it was like Chariot and Chariot Stripped all over again. I'm not too sure if there are stripped versions of all the songs in Little voice, but if there are, I'm going to find them. (Or at least, the stripped versions of the songs I like.)

Anyway, I just thought I'd share the video here. Enjoy.

---

I saw the Hollyscoop feature on Clive Davis' annual pre-Grammy party this year, and I started laughing when I saw Gavin DeGraw. He didn't really look out of place or anything, but he was wearing a cap, as usual. He pulled it off well enough with the suit. I guess he himself realized that he usually looks better with a cap on. Wala lang.