Tag Archives: Filmography

At Tumigil Ang Mundo

Have you ever chanced upon a song that completely captured everything that you’ve ever wanted in life?

I’ve written about this in the past – if you’ve ever read that entry about Enchanted – that moment that Robert looked up and saw Giselle on top of the staircase and every single person in the room just knew that he was so deeply and irrevocably in love with her, even if he wasn’t aware of it himself.

In more recent films, I got another glimpse of it while watching Crazy Rich Asians. That wedding scene – when Nick gazes out to the pews and sets his eyes on Rachel, who was tearing up. You can practically see the pieces fall into place and click with finality. There was wonder in his eyes – wonder, and that dawning realization that this was the girl that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Yes, I am a hopeless romantic… and I still believe in the possibility of a great love and a grand passion. I’m old enough to understand that love is a choice that we make everyday – no matter how mundane things become, no matter how difficult things get. But I know that I’m still choosing to believe that there will be moments that sweep me off my feet, that there will be moments that take my breath away… that there will be moments that fill my heart with so much joy that tears will start sliding down my cheeks.

Maybe it’s selfish of me to think that I deserve everything – a love that can be as comfortable as silence and as raging as white water rapids… As deep as darkness and as light as a summer breeze. But a girl can dream, yes? And it’s that dream that I choose to hold on to.

I want to be the reason why someone’s world stops turning. I want my eyes to be the reason why someone suddenly feels they’ve been struck by lightning. I want my touch to be freezing and burning at the same time. I want to be the reason for speechlessness because no words are enough. I want to be the song that is both so happy and so sad and makes a heart feel like bursting from undeniable bliss and inexplicable sorrow.

I want to be the answer to a wish that no one even knew was being made.

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Lightning Strikes the Heart


That song.

And everything between 2:03 and 2:22.

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08.13: Unfinished


I’m finally watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I’m somewhere within the first 20 minutes of the film and although nothing spectacularly sad has happened yet, it feels as though my heart is breaking.

Let’s see where this takes me.



Dark & Twisted…

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06.13: Of Ivory Petals and White Butterflies

Just because you can draw or paint, it doesn’t make you an artist. It may make you a really good painter or a gifted sketcher, but not an artist.


Artistry goes beyond the technical skill – beyond the ability of being able to do something. Great art is geared towards evoking an emotion from its audience, regardless of the media. I have heard some people sing a song perfectly – every single note sung with such precision – and yet, at the end of it all, I feel nothing. And yet I know of people whose voices are a little raw, with a little edge, and yet their haunting melodies can bring tears to my eyes.

I once told a friend that sometimes artists naturally gravitate towards each other because we see the world in a way that is slightly different. Regardless of whether the gravitating towards each other is true or not, what I will stand by is the latter half of what I said – that we don’t see the world the way most people do. That’s what great art is about, I think… Being able to look at the world and see something different… Being able to see the light in sadness… Being able to see the beauty in despair.

Great art is borne out of great emotion… It’s our anger, our joy, our pain that goes into the painting on the canvas… the melody of the music… the words in woven tales. It’s not a matter to seeing a picture and transferring the its image to a blank poster. Art is not about copying – it’s about creating. Artists, even when singing someone else’s songs or painting someone else’s picture, create. No matter how similar it is to the original in the end, artists are incapable of doing exact replicas. We are perpetually driven to leave a piece of ourselves behind.

“…Great art is about conflict and pain and guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love…”
Lester Bangs, Almost Famous

We see more. We hear more. We feel more.

We hate more. We love more.

We are more.

And that’s what makes people call us weird.

But I’m not just weird. I’m not even a limited edition. I’m one of a kind. You’ll never find another like me.



Blessed Be…

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05.13: A Little Fall of Rain

The Miserable Ones

So I finally got to watch Les Miserables.

After weeks of hearing how good it was and how much they cried over the film, I finally found myself falling in line, fervently praying that my beloved and I would find unoccupied seats in a rather full theatre. I cannot thank Don enough for agreeing to watch it with me – I knew he primarily watched because I wanted to. I did not expect the film to be as long as it was – it is never easy for me to sit still for long periods of time, so you would think two and a half hours would seem like a lifetime.

But it wasn’t.

So many people have made it known – either through actual conversations that left me salivating for a theatre tickets or the multitudes of posts made on (social networking site undisclosed) – that tears were shed during the film. Personally, I knew I would cry. I mean, I’m the girl who cried while watching Aladdin (when he told Genie that his third wish was for Genie to be free). What I did not expect was when the tears actually fell.

As the credits were rolling, I sent an SMS to my best friend… “You HAVE to watch Les Mis. And you HAVE to bring tissue. Like 10 boxes.” When we met up with him that night, he asked me if I really cried. I did. I felt like every time some character died, I cried. The problem was people kept on dying throughout the film.

No, watching it on a Sunday night wasn’t the best idea in the world because it left me with such a heavy feeling in my heart. I was surprised to find my tears falling during Fantine‘s I Dream a Dream, Eponine‘s A Little Fall of Rain and Jean Valjean‘s death.

As we walked out of the theatre, I fully understood why people kept lining up to watch this movie. It was truly a magnificent experience… A beautiful story with characters that were both flawed and strong… Its dialogue was done entirely through song yet every viewer understands… But most of all, at the end of two and a half hours, you understand why it was entitled “The Miserable Ones“. And this, more than anything else, I think, is what inexplicably draws us in and breaks our hearts.

After all, at one point or another, no matter how fleeting, we were all miserable too.



Ciao Bella!

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67 in ’12: I’m Holding Every Breath for You

“Life offers you a thousand chances… all you have to do is take one.”
Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun

This is easier said than done… Especially for those of us who have been hurt, who have hoped, who have waited in vain… Those who have hurt others, who have been denied, who hold on to regret. It’s so hard to move on.

Why do we keep holding on? Because it’s better to be alone than to be open to the possibility of hurting? Has the pain become addicting? Are we forever caught in that vicious cycle of longing for something that can never be ours? After all, as long as what we want is out of reach, it never really has the power to make us bleed.

This is my answer: I hold on because holding on is “safe”. When we are perpetually running after someone or waiting for something, we never have to do anything different. Actually, we stay where it is safe because it gives us an excuse to never really do anything. Period.

But at the end of the day, that’s what it is – an excuse.

Sometimes, I think, we make excuses to not be happy. We make excuses to not be with someone. We makes excuses to stay exactly where we are… even if it makes us miserable.

I was watching this movie the other day (Beauty and the Briefcase) and the long and short of it is this: she kept a list of all the characteristics she was looking for in her “Magic Man” and eventually fell in love with someone who scored a 0 out of 10. At this point, you might be asking yourself why I even bothered to introduce this bit of information. Wait, I’m getting to that.

Very recently, I realized that I have been holding on to the idea of being with this guy because I REALLY wanted him to be my boyfriend. So there was that hope that one day, he will be more concerned about me (because he’s not)… That one day, he will look for me (because he doesn’t)… That one day, he will offer to bring me home (to my house, because he hasn’t). I had boxed myself in. And my box wasn’t a checklist of what I wanted in a guy… My box WAS a guy!

Find me. Bring me home.

I’ll tell you a truth that I’ve never told anyone before… I wanted to fall in love with him in the worst possible way. But I couldn’t. Because I couldn’t find reasons to (cue Breathe’s “How Can I Fall”).

No matter how old I get, the romantic in me never really fades away. It’s still the little things that count for so much.

…Like holding hands
…Like good conversation
…Like comfortable silence
…Like just hanging out
…Like receiving love letters or notes
…Like laughing together
…Like talking about everything and nothing
…Like being brought home after a date
…Like spending time together (sometimes doing nothing)

Time. Someone once said that the greatest gift you can give someone is your time. I SO AGREE. But that is a different story and will be told at a different time.

But for now, I will tell you this: I always say I want it all – the grand passion of a great love. At the end of the day, what makes the passion grand and what makes the love great are all the little things. And it’s the little things that I’ve been missing.

*          *          *

Dear You,

If there are things I want to tell you, it’s these:

Let go.
Let yourself be happy.
Take a chance
Fall in love – REALLY fall in love – again.
Give someone a chance to love you.

Yes, I’m talking about you.

Love Always,



Ciao Bella!

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46 in ’12: At First Sight

I saw this post of Facebook and it was just too good to pass up…

Beautiful. Funny. Broken.

Beautiful? Yes.
Funny? Maybe.
Broken? Definitely.

As they say, we see what we look for.

‘Tis Sunday once again… My day of perpetual loneliness and sorrow.

Escaping In: Shakespeare in Love

Ciao Bella!

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