My Father Who Is In Heaven

Last night, I got to see the Manila production of Godspell. It's a musical that I only got acquainted with a few months ago, so it wasn't like I've been longing to see it for a while but my interest in it, I suppose, underlines what I myself and many others already know: I am forever a musical theater boy.


"All Good Gifts" - one of my favorite songs from the show.

Which brings me to the true subject of this blog.
But first an orientation for anybody who only had the pleasure in recent months of inhabiting the same space I revolve in: I write to purge myself of thoughts and feelings that otherwise would fester in my head. I find it cathartic.

I share what I write (and, by extension, my innermost thoughts) for no absolute reason than to draw attention to myself. I wouldn't be sharing them if I didn't think the story wouldn't be worth someone else's time. And stories are, after all, what I live for. Just check out my new Twitter profile.


Papa took me to my first trip to Canada in 1997.

So, on to this story.

My dad passed away last March.
Yes, it's been months.

In all that time, I've been trying to write this very blog.

In all that time, I've been trying to figure out how I really felt about him being gone.

I suppose I should feel regret.

Dad lived and, subsequently, died in Los Angeles surrounded by his first family, so he was well taken care of. To contextualize my place in the structure of his families (not a typo), that makes me a contender for tomorrow's Bastardbowl.


His very last message. So much for that, I guess.

A month before he passed, he was in town. He wanted to see me in one of those weekends he was here.

I couldn't indulge him.

I had work.

I suppose I should feel regret that I put my job first over seeing my father one last time. I didn't even give myself time to grieve. There were just too many things to do.

Yet while your first thought may have been "what a tragedy", mine was "wow, what a cliché".

And I hate that. It doesn't make for a good story.

No, that's not what I regret.

Having sorted through how I really feel these past few months, my only regret was that I don't think he ever really knew how angry I am.

Not because he didn't love me. For all his faults, the man always did believe he loved his children, even the bastards. That much I know.

Not because he didn't believe in me. For all that he verbalized his disappointment in almost everything I do, the man always did think I could do great things - even if I didn't think so. That much I know.

No, I'm angry because the last time I did get to see him, he made me feel like shit. He screamed at me and scolded me for the randomest things - in public and, most of the time, in front of his first wife and their children.

And here's the piece de resistance: The man - a serial womanizer who had fathered more than ten children - found it "abnormal" when I told him I associate more as asexual. Gee, dad. What's normal then? Spreading your seed around and leaving a trail of heartbreaks and bastards on your path?

Growing up, in the very rare instances that I got to see him, I remember that this was always his thing. It got so bad that I never wanted to see him anymore.

I thought he had mellowed down these past few years and being able to talk to him had been a smoother process. I thought he was finally seeing me as an adult - even if I felt otherwise.

Yet, there it was. The longest and most awkward five days in LA. The only thing I associate the city with.

Anger.

I suppose that I regret having lost the chance to rectify the situation. That whenever I think of him now, that's the first feeling that jump out of my chest.

Anger.

Maybe I regret missing the chance to tell him to his face how angry he made me. Maybe he would've offered an apology. Maybe my last memory of him wouldn't have been that.

Anger.

So many could-have-beens. Such a cliché.‎ I hate that. It doesn't make for a good story.

The good news is that my dad's part in my story is far from over, at least I'd like to think so. It's an open-ended conclusion, as it were.

Even as I write this, I find myself getting less and less angry. I've also come to the conclusion that I probably won't miss his presence in my life. I won't miss seeing his face next time I come to LA. I won't miss his voice most of all.

I will remember him, though, whenever I think about my passions. He got me my first comic book and took me to my very first musical theater show. I can't give the man too much credit for everything I turned out to be but I'll give him those. It may sound shallow to hear but I met my best friends in life because I had an interest in them. Papa made a good call on that one and I'll be forever grateful.

And so I bookmark my father's chapter in my story but I move on.
No more anger.
No more regret.
And no more clichés.
Not even a dopey father's day greeting to signify the occasion.

Weekly Ketchup 32 - Geekstractions

This past week, I've been trying to distract myself from thinking about a possible confrontation with a client. Remember the campaign I mentioned here and the photo shoot I discussed here? Yeah, it's that client.

The short version, though, is that this client doesn't seem to get that the moment a digital proof of the layout we sent their printer is provided, then that means they're ready to go to print. This client also seems to have it in their heads that we speak for their printer along with some other expectations that we, as an agency, never offered. This situation bothers me so much that I'm constantly imagining the confrontation with the client. I suppose it's because I really can't be angry or annoyed towards the client however much I'd like to use expletives, hence I let the confrontation linger in my fantasies. But it's taken up so much of my free time that I just want release! The argument did happen last Friday though and I'm a bit proud of myself for holding my ground. I tried to be less argumentative or aggressive about it and tried to educate the client about the standard process that agencies and printers follow.

This all that either the printer or the agency should see on the digital proof

Anyway, as of this writing, the saga continues and my head is still swimming with negative scenarios, which brings me back to distractions. This past week, I've been trying out new comics, movies, and books - anything just to pass the time without imagining the screaming match I really want to have with the client.

I started the week finally reading my digital copy of "Rat Queens" that I got from the Image sale a few weeks back. It's a fantasy so it's obviously a prime pick for me and I enjoyed it immensely. I really wish there was more to read with each issue though. Like I said during my quick review of "Invincible", I really miss the days when comics would take at least 15 minutes to read.

I also got into "Real Heroes" mainly because it was free. It's basically "Galaxy Quest" but with superheroes. It's an interesting book, especially given the popularity of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which was primarily based on the Ultimate universe. The connection, of course, was that "Real Heroes" creators Mark Millar and Bryan Hitch were the same team behind "The Ultimates".

On the movie front, I downloaded the Justice League animated movies "Doom", "Flashpoint Paradox", "War", and "Trapped in Time" and watched them one after another. I could just be asking for too much here (I know there's a current animated show and the live action films are kicking butts) but why can't Marvel come up with animated movies that are just as decent? I'd still really like a nice animated Avengers movie!

The past week, I also got a copy of the "If/Then" soundtrack, which means I'm now drowning in Idina Menzel after "Rent", "Wicked", and "Frozen". It's hard to appreciate the songs without context but I still enjoy them. It's nice to hear Anthony Rapp's voice again, though LaChanze's has matured since I first heard her on "Once on this Island". Anyway, I'd really like to see a staging of the show. It'd be interesting to see how they switch from one reality to another.

I also got a copy of Matchbox 20's "North" and the Green Day trilogy "Uno", "Dos", "Tre" albums. Both bands were holdovers from my music taste in the 1990s and I still enjoy their new material. Though admittedlying, I haven't listened to them as much as the "If/Then" soundtrack.

Finally, I got started on Brandon Sanderson's "Mistborn". I'm only a few chapters in and, in true Sanderson fashion, the pace is really quick and there's a lot of dialog to establish the world, which is always preferable as far as I'm concerned. I haven't read much about the series so I don't really know where the story is headed but my body is ready.

Other than that, I've been playing my games from GOG.com and Android. And just last Sunday, I went through all three Toy Story DVDs back to back. I thought I'd be immune by now, knowing how the trilogy ends, but no, I still had that moment when I was wiping tears and snot from my face.

Social interactions also help. Last Thursday was Amici Quiz Night and we lost despite there being a battalion of us. There was a Guardians of the Galaxy category though, which I mostly answered correctly. I was able to supply the names of Steve Gan and Bill Mantlo only because their names were on my news feed since the movie became popular.

And we celebrated high school friend Anya's birthday last night, which is why this blog is delayed by a day. I love getting together with the people who've known me the longest even if we're in different points in our lives. After all the catching up and reminiscing, we ended up talking about "Game of Thrones". Anya also said she read "Wolverine Origins" except the last issue, which is frustrating her because she wants to know what happened.

Hopefully, I hope this situation with the client gets sorted out this week. Or maybe just writing about it will give me the release I need. If not, well, at least I have all these things to geek out over!

Cheater, Theater

Everyone knows that I've been pretty much watching what I eat because as we grow older, our metabolism tends to slow down and yes! I am a sizist. I do not care for big bellies at all. Of course, it would be nice to pair up my conscious dieting with calorie-burning activities but I'm too much of a wuss to engage in anything physical (except dancing).

In any case, I decided yesterday while I was at the mall that it was going to be my cheat day. I've been a good boy for quite a few weeks actually and successfully cut my beer and rice intake down, so I thought why not. So I got a pair of Hawaiian pizzas from Pizza Hut, a regular serving of curry-flavored fries from Potato Corner, a donut from Gonuts Donuts. The encore was a Miguelito's Fried Ice Cream, which I've been curious about for years but never tried. What I thought was a meager conservative serving at P40 turned out to be this:

That's "fried" chocolate ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, some choco chip cookies, and solid slabs of white chocolate all topped with oozing caramel syrup. I couldn't finish it. I wanted to puke halfway through. I was pretty disgusted at myself.

In other news, I caught Atlantis' production of the Tim Rice/Elton John musical Aida last Thursday night (right as the storm was brewing) courtesy of my good friend Ingrid.

To be honest, it wasn't that good a show as I expected. Don't get me wrong: The musical performances were still great, but coming from someone familiar with the soundtrack, that's to be expected. I guess I enjoyed it because I was experiencing one of my favorite soundtracks live. I'm not certain if anyone not familiar with the music would appreciate it as well.

Ima Castro had the vocal chops, sure, but I never once believed that she was an enslaved Nubian princess. Nor did I believe that Myke Salomon was an Egyptian military commander. Nor did I believe that they were ever in love with each other. Of all the main players, I only believed that Rachel Alejandro was a ditzy Egyptian Queen who eventually comes into her own.

Alas, even the supporting cast didn't fare any better with the exception of Alys Serdenia who was very captivating as Nehebka (She would've made the perfect Aida IMHO). Rachel's own father Hajji failed to convince me that he's a diabolical architect. Also: There was one note from one of his character's repertoire that I was really looking forward to hearing live (which, done right, would've had the same impact as Wicked's Defying Gravity). That fell flat, but that was far from the most unforgivable part of the show.

That honor fell to Josh Santana as Mereb whose performance kept making me cringe in my seat. Everytime he speaks, I felt like I was watching some campus play, which would've offended me if I paid for my ticket. Same goes for watching the male chorus members dancing as Egyptian soldiers. I can't tell if it's the choreography or the execution because the Nubian scenes (which involved the same actors in dual roles) were performed quite beautifully.

I guess the spectacular set design and the rousing vocal numbers (The Dance of the Robe and The Gods Love Nubia come to mind) were the saving graces of this show, which is not really saying anything because I've always known Atlantis to be uncompromising. Well, I hope they ironed the kinks out. That was their very first show anyway, which was more for the benefit of the press.

Lastly, I caught the matinee of The Music of Andrew Lloyd Webber earlier today. Again, thanks to Ingrid. My first time to watch anything at the CCP Main Theater and I have to say: Anywhere you sit there would be okay. The sound carries through and you can still make out the performers' faces even if we were seated to the side 4-5 rows from the back.

Pic c/o Ingrid

We got in a tad late and missed the first song, but we saw everything else. Eight performers did select songs from Webber's long repertoire, among them Evita, Jesus Christ Superstar, Phantom of the Opera, Sunset Boulevard, among others I'm not quite familiar with (which I shall now rectify). My favorite part was the Cats medley, which closed Act I to roaring applause.

The show felt short for a revue. I wanted to hear As If We Never Said Goodbye and Ingrid wanted to hear Unexpected Song but I guess it's okay. We had a couple of encore performances, which left my palms quite numb from all the applauding I had to do.

So that's been my stormy last few days. My only drama was my laptop's power brick dropping to the floor as our house got flooded (again). Yes, it was charging. Yes, it short circuited. Yes, it's now useless. Yes, I got a replacement already.