Final (ly) Fantasy

    As always, this is a long overdue blog. Not because I've been putting off writing it, but because I had only about an hour ago met the condition with which I intended to herald my writing this entry.
   
    I finally finished Final Fantasy IV Advance on my Gameboy Micro.   

    As most things concerning me and my geek cred go, this is one of those long time coming scenarios.
   
    Try about 11 years.
   
    I had already explained the significance of this game in one of my YouTube videos, but I'll break it down for this blog anyway. Cue magic sparkles and sprinkler music.
   
    So 11 years ago I was an American-born Filipino bumming around in Canada at the home of my cousins - one of whom just happened to be a huge Backstreet Boys fan, especially of Nick Carter (as all teenage girls at the time were). I can't quite quote the source but there was a rumor that circulated about Nick playing a character called Cloud in an FF adaptation. As my cousins had a SNES unit, they went ahead and rented FFII (which was what FFIV was known in North America) from the local cartridge shop not knowing that Cloud was not in this version of the game.

       This was also around the same time I discovered fantasy books, so my head was constantly swirling with knights, dragons, magic and all these things. Also, my experience with console games at the time was limited to sidescrollers. I have heard of Role Playing Games, but it was always in the context of pen, paper, and dice games that the kids from my high school never invited me to play.

        Given these conditions, a kid like me discovering a console RPG with a story rooted primarily on medieval fantasy was the closest I got to my own Neverending Story. I was hooked from the start and it helped that I got to hog the SNES all day because my cousins were at school. Since we only had the cartridge for about a week, I was on that game from the moment I woke up until when my cousins came home. I got through the torture of waiting by reading more books and creating my own world.

     Keep in mind: This was a time when walkthroughs weren't readily available online so I really had to navigate my way through the game with no help at all. It was both frustrating and liberating, and every level I succeed in just drove me forward.

   
    Sadly, I never got to finish the game. I guess I took too long figuring some levels out and I think we also had to return the cartridge earlier than expected as we were set to go on a road trip to Seattle (which in itself was a fantasy journey for another time). Though I remember I got as far as the moon, which was more than halfway through the game.

 
     Flash forward to late 2008. I can't remember why but I was obsessed with getting a Gameboy Micro, the 20th Anniversary Edition even. I'm no hardcore gamer, but I guess it was for people like me that the GBM was made for. I got mine brand spanking new at Greenhills for a fraction of the mall price with two free cartridges to boot (which was a complete surprise). I had done no prior research as to which games were available, but when I saw the FFIV Advance cartridge there, I had the inkling that it was the game I abandoned 9 years prior.

    True enough it was. There's a reason why it had changed numbering but I'm not gonna get into that. As soon as I got home, I started playing it and eventually got farther than where I left the SNES version. For some reason I still didn't get to finish it. I think the levels got too hard.

        Sometime later I got an EZ-Flash IV game cart, which opened me to 2gb worth of GBA roms, including an RPG specifically made for the Advance: Golden Sun and its sequel The Lost Age, which got me through the bleak period of 2009. Then last year I loaded the game cart with all the FF Advance roms, including FFIV, but for one reason or another, still neglected to finish the game. However, I did finish FF1 and the real FF2.

     Then we come to 2011, specifically last March when, on the plane to my Canadian vacation, I decide to start playing FFIV again from the beginning with the express purpose of finishing the game at the same place where I started playing it. It would've been dramatic and poetic.
   
    Except that I failed.
   
    Then life and other priorities took over and I found myself only weeks ago deciding to level my characters up so they can defeat the final boss once and for all. As I do this and my characters keep discovering new powers they didn't have before, it dawned on me that maybe it's not them but me who wasn't ready to win yet. I didn't work or prep them hard enough for the final battle.
   
    Earlier, as I was contemplating what to do with the rest of the night, I decided that I wasn't going to let another day go by that this game remains unfinished. I have confronted and vanquished my own personal demons and have learned to live with and let go of the past, including the dark, idle days of 11 years ago. It was just time.
   
    So there I was in battle with Zeromus the final boss of FFIV. There were times when I thought I would lose and start over again, but ultimately I prevailed with all my characters alive.

    As I watch the cut scene afterward I felt like I was saying goodbye to old friends. After all, these were characters I've known way before I was a fan of the Avengers or the Wheel of Time. I guess there's still some drama and poetry to the timing what with my recently invigorated sense of self-worth and confidence.
   
    It's done. I finally won.

Blame Canadia

This past week, I've been editing and uploading the videos I took of my trip to Canada last month. I've so far updated my Youtube channel with the first half of the trip and I plan to finish everything by this week. The thing is I haven't really seen the extent my footage until I finally sat down and compiled them together to tell the story of the trip.

It's been fun recalling what those two weeks have been like, and I think it's about time that I put this blog together. I've been meaning to write this since the last day of the trip but I just kept putting it off. Not anymore.

A lot of my friends know that I've spent a couple of years in Canada - particularly the years before I went to college in UST. This leads people to assume that I'm as Canadian as Robin Scherbatsky is. In actuality, I'm an American owing to my birthplace being California. The only reason I was in Canada was because the only family I have in the States are those of my father's, and being an illegitimate child, the potential for drama is just ludicrous.

It's all right there!

So 13 years ago, I flew way up north where people are apparently afraid of the dark to stay with my Grandma, my aunt and my cousins. Thew idea was for me to finish high school there. Halfway through that, we discovered that due to me being of the stars-and-stripes and not of the maple leaf, I really shouldn't be studying or even living in Canada.

Who's an illegal alien on account of being American? Only me.

Eventually I was deported back to California where, in the most awkward of situations, I had to stay with my oldest half-brother's family who I had only met the year before. It also just happened to be my 17th birthday. What a lucky kid right? How many people can say that they got to spend their birthday on two different countries?

At the time, a younger half-brother was about to get married and dad was flying over from the Philippines. He laid it down: I couldn't be at the wedding and I can't stay with his family any longer. So he somehow arranged for me to come back to Canada while all the adults on both sides of my family figure out what to do with me since going back to Manila was not an option.

I was the Ryan Lafferty to my dad's family.

So I stayed in Canada for about another year or so. Not studying. Hiding from Canadian immigration. Doing nothing productive with my life but daydream, write and draw. Though I did come up with some of my best stories during that tumultuous time. How many American-born Filipinos are in Canada and how many can say that about themselves?

 I haven't renewed my passport since it expired 8 years ago. What a difference a long time makes.

Eventually, when things were going nowhere, I decided to just quit the whole thing and come back to Manila. By this time, I had become more angst-ridden. The thing I hated most about the whole mess was how everything was a matter of circumstance. So, no, I don't really blame Canadia (as my friends fondly call it).

It's been 11 years since that dark period and I'm proud to say that I managed to pick myself up and got my life together. When I found out earlier this year that I was going back to Canada to accompany my grandmother, the bittersweet memories of those years came rushing back. Yet I was excited. After all, I haven't been out of the country since then.

All set! Not quite.

 Of course, no out-of-country trip is ever complete without my American citizenship giving me trouble. This time with Philippine immigration. At least I know it was my fault and not circumstance.

See you at the Rainbow Bridge, Cowie

I wish this was the blog about how spectacular my recent trip to frigid Canada had been but it's not.

This is the blog about my dog, Cowie.
The one who passed away a couple of days ago.
I've often heard of stories about dogs who get depressed when their master had been gone for a long time. In any of the stories I've heard, the dog ultimately lost the will to live.

Yet I've been told that you can talk to your dog and assure them that you will be back. And against all sense of reason, they will understand.

I had the talk with her before I left. If she understood, there was no way for me to know. But I thought it would be enough.

Apparently not.

When I arrived at the house last Monday morning, she was the first thing I wanted to see. I expected her to meet me at the gate, wagging tail and fussing over the luggage I brought with me. Two calls later and she still wasn't there.

Finally, my mom came out and told me she's been weak, frail and not eating for the past few days. She said to go see her and let her know I've come back.
So I did. There she was under my mom's bed, but for the wagging tail, nothing else let me know that she was happy to see me again. She was so thin and fragile but I had to move her to my room.

She was born in that very same room 10 years ago. That's when I found that my dog just decided to give birth in the comfort of my bed. I thought the little disgusting sac was stillborn but she cleared it up and that's when I got a clearer view of her first pup: A precious little white thing with splotches of brown and black that reminded me of a cow. Hence the name.

Ten years later, on the floor of the bed is where she would take her final breath after days of dehydration and malnutrition.

Perhaps she thought it was her fault and that I abandoned her.
I couldn't help thinking the same. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I abandoned her. Maybe I shouldn't have been gone for so long. After all, two weeks is a long time in a dog's life.

Now she's gone.
The hardest part is going through my old routines and realize she's not there anymore.
Having to wake up on my own every morning because she's not there promptly at 6am poking her nose and her paws in my face, making sure I'm up.
I still set aside leftovers from lunch and dinner only to realize she's not there to lap them up heartily.
I keep expecting she's still there outside the bathroom door waiting for me to finish, but no she's not there.
Just like she's not there when I come home from work. Yet I'm  still careful when I open the door because she might be behind it just waiting to pounce on me and pull me down just so she can lick my face.
She's not there when I open a bag of bread loaf. Wherever she is in the house, whenever I open that bag, I just know she'd come running. I'd tear up the first slice, throw each piece up in the air, and she would always catch them. If I give her an entire slice, she would lie down, piece of bread cupped in both paws, and munch it like a regular person.
What I miss the most is when she just sits down, one paw stretched, waiting for me or anyone to shake her paw. I don't know she picked up that habit but she's the only one of my dogs to have done so.

Her passing marks the end of the dog era in the house. After losing four dogs in two years, I took me a while to muster up the courage to watch "Marley and Me". When I finally did early last, she was there while I cried over that movie. Now she's not here as I cry over this entry.

You stuck with me the longest, and I'm sorry that I wasn't around for the last two weeks of your life. Thank you for everything and goodbye. I love you.

Journeys Part 3: The Narnian Chronicles

*The last of a three-part series.

Long overdue. That's all I can say about this blog post and about having only read CS Lewis' seven-book series just now. Being a fantasy and mythology nut, Narnia has always been in my periphery but I have never ventured there. I remember the first time I even heard of it was sometime between 7th grade and 1st year high school when Pog and Duffie were talking about it. Of course I couldn't relate.

Fast forward to a decade later and the movie version of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe came out and blew me away. Since then, I've always wanted to read the books but it's either I find loose volumes that would be missing a book or two or the complete boxed set would just be too expensive.

Then Prince Caspian came out and I loved it.

Then Voyage of the Dawn Treader came out and I loved it.

After three movie adaptations, I finally thought it time to play catch up. Funny thing is I made a spontaneous decision to finally buy all seven books when I spotted them at National Bookstore Santa Mesa while doing some Christmas shopping last year. I wanted to get my oldest niece started on building her library and I thought Narnia would be a great place to start. But when Dawn Treader came out, well, my niece got the complete Hunger Games trilogy instead.

She finished those books in a week's time!

My journey through Narnia started early December and lasted until late January. Narnian fans would chastise me for this but I read the books in the order of how the edition I bought were numbered - chronologically. Yep, unlike die-hard Narnians I know, my travels began with the Magician's Nephew.

What I discovered was a world that was as familiar as it was mysterious. Here was a fantasy world that was a welcome break from all the grim fairy tales of modern high fantasy series like the Sword of Truth, A Song of Ice and Fire, and (yes, I admit) even the Wheel of Time! I keep wanting to explore more and more of this land that Aslan the magnificent lion created every time I close a chapter. More so when I finish a book!

Narnia was also the last in a list of things that I missed growing up and made up lost time for last year. That list includes playing Final Fantasy I and 2 and reading Weiss and Hickman's Dragons of Autumn Twilight - both similar works of high fantasy! Also on the list is reading Watchmen and The Catcher in the Rye.

I don't know how or why I missed these things, but I guess that explains how I managed to hold on to every bit of youth I have left: I still have a lot of stuff to make up for and so many experiences to try! Case in point: My recent trips to Ilocos and Clark with some very close friends elicited moments of pure, seething unadulterated enthusiasm on countless occasions! Like being transported through Calormen, Archenland, the Eastern Ocean and the northern realms of Narnia, I often found awe wherever I went. Thankfully I still have the energy to wander and explore.

I'm glad I didn't grow up soon enough. Else I never would have appreciated Narnia at my age. It would've been nice to have cheerful memories of growing up with the books but that's okay. That just means I still get to be a friend of Narnia. Afer all, I actually like my trip there better than my travels to Middle Earth or Hogwarts.

One last thing about my trip to Narnia was that even if I didn't pick up the Christian themes as much, the books have given much to think about faith. I have to believe that there must be a reason why fate brought me on that journey only recently. If I didn't miss out on this great adventure growing up, I probably would've never thought to introduce Narnia to my nieces and nephews.

That's right. Having finally finished The Last Battle as soon as I got home from my Ilocos trip, I finally gave my books way to their rightful owner: My niece who would later share it with her younger siblings and cousins. They get to grow up having read the books and I can only hope that they become better persons for having read such an insightful and (most importantly) magical story!

Journeys Part 2: The Ilocos Chronicles

*The second of a three-part series.

A week ago today, I was either soaking up the sun or was soaking wet at Pagudpud. It was a trip hatched early in the year through a Facebook exchange between me, Mark, Jay-R, Jovan, and Densio - we of the impromptu Tagaytay road trip early last year. We invited a few other folks to come with us but sadly, only Rej and Oneal made it.

The idea was to take another road trip but with Densio presently stuck in Germany, she requested that we take a photo of her with us wherever we went. I can't exactly remember how we settled on Pagudpud but we could've easily gone to some other destination and it would still be a great trip. The thought of traveling to such a remote location with my friends was something I just couldn't pass up. I was actually more excited about the traveling than getting there.

Some Twitter updates from the trip.

Thanks to Globe's Twitter mobile service, I got my followers updated on the trip. It also made it easier to recall the progression of events as they transpired - except that Twitter lacks time stamps. In addition, I had my trusy photo and video cams with me!

Anyway, we left Thursday night around 11am and had reached Tarlac around 1am where we had a brief pit stop at a McDonald's. By 3am, we had reached La Union and by 6am, we finally got to Ilocos Sur at the outskirts of Vigan. The entire time, we were guided by two things: Traditional maps and a GPS care of Oneal's Samsung Galaxy Tab. Jay-r was driving and Oneal was navigating.

Calle Crisologo

 Our first day was pretty much spent exploring the Ilocos region. We got to Vigan around 6am and left the area around 2pm. In between, we had breakfast and lunch plus visited some key sites courtesy of our callesa ride:
- Calle Crisologo
- Bantay Church and Belltower (Got up to the bell! It's friggin high!)
- Hidden Garden
- Syquia Mansion (They didn't allow me to shoot a lot of videos! Blah!)

Bantay Church and Belltower

 Afterwards, we were supposed to be headed to Laoag but made a wrong turn and found ourself at Juan Luna's house in Badoc. It was a happy accident and they allowed me to shoot videos while exploring the place.

Lost but found ourselves some place nice.

Off we went to Batac to visit Marcos' corpse. Unfortunately, while waiting for the mausoleum to open, we heard gunshots so close to where we were waiting and had to run away from the commotion. We don't know what happened but it was nervewracking just to know a crime had occured nearby.

Updated tweet from that scary incident.

So we decided to go visit the sand dunes and rid ourselves of the bad vibes. While following signs, we chanced upon the Church of Paoay, which is possibly the oldest church I have ever seen! Another happy accident. Sadly we didn't find the sand dunes so just made our way to Laoag where we stocked up on supplies before heading straight to Pagudpud.

Church of Paoay

When we got to Pagudpud, it was so dark that we can't see anything of the waters. Waking up the next day though is another matter altogether. Our resort was close to the water and we were within eyeshot of the windfarms, which was another welcome surprise. It was so cold that morning though.

The rest of the morning was spent swimming, nay bouncing, along the South China Sea. The waves were high and really aggressive. There was no point in really swimming. You just had to ride the waves and roll with it. It was also a bit freaky when the undercurrent drags you back to the open water after the waves deposit you to the shore.

In the afternoon, we went to visit the blue lagoon at Maira-ira beach. The way there was warm and sunny but it was cold, really windy and drizzling when we got there, it was ridiculous. I didn't risk my camera's lens so I didn't shoot anything.

Next we went to the Bangui Wind Farms where I had the most spectacular experience of my life. It was just as cold and wet when we got there but for me it just added to the majesty of the experience. It was like nature unleashed defying these towering manmade structures. All the while I was standing at this stretch of land with sparse vegetation, which was actually a small portion of the sand dunes. I didn't risk snapping a photo here either but I'd like to think I'll remember that fleeting moment forever!

Notice the droplets on the lens.

By night time, rain had reached our last night at Northridge.

We had to leave early the next day but I managed to snap a few photos and videos of the South China Sea in the early morn. Our adventure didn't end there though. Thankfully, the rain had stopped and we were treated to a nice sunshine as we made our way up to the Cape Bojeador Lighthouse. It was really windy though, which added to my agoraphobia.

After that, we were on our way back to Manila with a stopover once again at Vigan for lunch and some pasalubong. We amused ourselves in the car by playing Taboo and spotting funny business signs (Ilocoslovakia Auto Repairs, anyone?).

By 9pm, we stopped over at Gerona, Tarlac for some dinner at the Isdaan, which was an incredible place. There's something for you to do or look at everywhere you turn! I even tried my hand at that Tacsiyapo wall where you get to let out your anger by throwing cups and plates and even TV sets!

The Smashing Tacsiyapo Wall!

We got back to Manila around midnight on Monday. It was a great trip and I wouldn't mind doing it again just to see the longer stretch of the sand dunes!

Journeys Part 1: The Thomasian Chronicles

*The first part of a three-part series of stories.

One morning exactly a week ago, I made a spur of the moment decision: Instead of going directly to work, I opted to go the other way and back to school to UST. I hadn't intended to go but a huge part of me was dying inside because I wouldn't be there that evening to celebrate with my fellow Thomasians our alma matter's 400th year anniversary.

As a die-hard growling tiger, I thought it only proper to visit the grand old place even with the lack of pomp and pageantry (and quite frankly - people). Armed with my camera, I played like a tourist at my own school. Upon reaching the España gate alone, I could already feel something was up in the air. The place was more festive than usual at 9am and having had my share of Paskuhans and college weeks during my time, I know how busy the place really gets. Last week's was ten times more amplified.



The other thing I noticed was that I wasn't the only "tourist" there. Everywhere I looked, there were groups of people - no doubt families and old gangs - from older batches and I could hear them talking about their time as students. Often the remarks were how things have changed since their time. Some older folks were even with who I assume are grandchildren who were appropriately dressed for class that day. It was amazing!

I guess the best part for me was being able to go inside my home in UST - the Faculty of Arts and Letters. I didn't think I'd get in what with the lack of proper identification and all, but I did! Just the flood of memories alone was overwhelming. I remember running along the halls for a variety of reasons - catching up to a professor or a classmate or an orgmate, rushing to the photocopier, meeting deadlines, all of it. It was so vivid in my memory it may as well have happened yesterday.

It was a good thing I caught Mam Faye at room 211 - my very first classroom in UST. That's where I met my friends at Saunos and where I had a couple of embarassing moments. Yes, I will never live down that time I was late and crashed into 1Journ1's class thinking it was our class. I kinda did it again when I barged into Mam Faye's class (2CA5) but it's all good.

Another overwhelming moment was when I came across CASA's bulletin board. I didn't think I would be emotional about it but I was. Even if I'm in regular contact with the current batch of officers, it still beats seeing again the part that you had to leave behind when you graduate. It's that legacy you leave for someone else so that they might have the chance to experience what you have.

Of course every Thomasian experience is different. Mine was riddled with constant stuggle and a lot of growing up. I went from over-the-top student to student council slave to mediocre debater to president of one of the biggest organizations in campus. Every now and then, I got to write and dance outside of any class requirements. Yes I was the guy you got sick of after one encounter too many. Evidence here.

Hey, I live less than 30 minutes away! What'd you expect me to do with my overly free time? Study?

This was from my junior year.

Yet for all that, I believe I was one of Communication Art's most promising students (If my mentors could just see me now, they'd wonder "What happened?") I owned my subjects like they were yesterday's news. My approach to academics has always been more relaxed. I never really bothered about grades. They're just numbers. I passed. I learned. End of story. Move on.

Grad photo with the UST quadricentennial emblem.

So many more stories I can tell about the college years but for now I leave with this: I was never really comfortable with uniforms primarily because I have never been a conformist and I grew up practically not wearing one. So I would find ways to deviate - like wearing a printed shirt underneath or wearing my trademark earrings. Oh, and when they stopped for the 3pm Angelus, I moved. I still think it a waste of time.

My school ID pic resurfaced.

Despite such lapses, I am and will always be proud to be called a Thomasian. Not because we have the best academic program ever (Hell no!) but because the place left an indelible mark on me. For one thing, it helped me gain the courage to defy convention, which is something you'll need if you're in the creatives industry.

After only spending about an hour that morning last week, I did feel fulfilled that I have honored my den, my alma matter, and was at peace with myself. I did great during my four years there. Only thing now is that I have to challenge myself to do even greater.

Thanks for the mentors and the memories, UST.