Just when everybody has almost gotten over fantaseryes, ABS CBN took it upon itself to sustain the (dying) genre. And what comes of this effort is the new fantaserye, “Kokey”. Directed by Wenn Deramas (“Tanging Ina”, “Walang Kapalit”), the series is the television remake-slash-adaptation of a 1997 movie of the same title. Airing week nights right after TV Patrol World, “Kokey” stars newcomer Joshua Caldeña as Bong, the overly imaginative orphan boy and would-be-bestfriend of Kokey.  An alien with a mission, Kokey will elicit the help of Bong and together, they will go on adventures, seeking magical stones and finding lost spaceships.
   

“Kokey” the movie was a charming story of a poor little boy who found friendship with an alien.  A bit like “E.T.”, “Kokey” was a simple story of friendship – of the boy helping the alien find hi way back home. Seeing a plot as charming as this is, you would think that translating it to TV would be easy. However, somewhere along the process ABS CBN hired a crazy writer who decided that instead of going for a good old charm, “Kokey” would be a montage of all the plot clichés known to man. In the pilot episode alone, the writers managed to include a poor-meets-rich love affair, a rich Doña denouncing her child of his inheritance, a jealous man murdering his brother, and of course, a poor baby who, inside a wicker basket, floated accidentally to an orphanage. Yes, and this was just the series’ first 30-minute episode. Somehow, the head writer must have said to himself, “Let me get all the cheesiest elements of the past 50 telenovelas, write them on pieces of papers, put them in a box, shake the box, draw the first five lots and make a script out of it!” And so, the pilot episode was a cliché galore, a sad fact since there was so much to make of the movie.
   

However, the head writer may not be the only lunatic here. Somehow, the casting director decided to create the weirdest ensemble cast ever. Imagine this, Ruffa Gutierrez (yes, the star of the Ruffa – Yilmaz saga herself) is Trining, a housewife with a supposed Visayan accent. And Ruffa tries so hard to look like a housewife and sound Bisaya but sadly it really does not work. At times, she looks so out of place it’s hilarious. And then there’s Trining’s husband, Nanding played by Redford White. Yes, you read it right. Ruffa and Redford are now an on-screen couple and they will end up as Bong’s adoptive parents. As interesting as this sounds, the pair cannot make much of their characters. Ruffa looks hopelessly out of place and Redford looks, well, no one will ever notice he’s there. Ruffa’s stature drowns him out and as much as Nanding is supposed to be a successful businessman, Redford makes him look like a driver.

Also, there’s Charisse, played by Eugene Domingo. For reasons unknown to the world, Eugene’s transformation to Charisse is characterized by cheap brown wigs and a shrill voice in an accent so bizarre no province would ever lay claim to it. Oh and let’s not forget the lead character, Bong played by Joshua Caldeña. Someone should have told the child that squinting does not constitute crying and surprise does not mean having a straight face while producing some loud noise with your mouth hanging open. And for the show’s supposed tender moments, Joshua truly cannot make himself come across as an orphan desperate for a home and a family.  Lastly, the “thing” that plays the title role of Kokey is supposedly an animatronics robot. As much as the thing can now move and stuff, it ended up looking like a big purple blob (which is reminiscent of a kamote), with eyes that shine of that radioactive green color. The little children, for whom the show is created for, will probably be scared of this thing.
   

The series also suffers from a lot of inconsistencies. At one moment Myra (Mylene Dizon) has just lost her son and the next minute that lost son is now the 10-year-old Bong. And there was also an incredibly bizarre moment when Bong entered a forest and suddenly, CGI flowers, trees, and fairies came up. And get this --- they all started on a full blown song number. However, a revelation is made here – Bong (or Joshua Caldeña) CAN sing. But sadly, the whole scene is an odd fit. 

Even the show’s costume department has issues. What in the world would make anyone decide that nuns should wear yellow habits? Let us all remember that almost all congregations prefer either white or dark colors for their habits. They’re nuns, not clowns.

The show isn’t all bad, though. They have Mylene Dizon, the sole actress who actually seems believable in her role. Mylene plays Myra and she effortlessly conveys the emotions of a distraught mother and grieving wife. She is the best thing about this who series.

However, even Mylene can’t save the entire show. If you love your brain cells as much as I love mine, you will refrain yourself from seeing this fantaserye. But if you are one for clichés, then this will make you terribly happy.

I don't know what kind of shitty conspiracy this is. Did the powers of the universe suddenly decide to just screw me over? Or am I just producing an aura that screams "Steal from me, I'm an idiot"?

I walk to the fx station and wait for a ride, get to school and somewhere in between that 30-minute commute my effing phone was stolen.

Seriously, do the gods hate me this much? That phone is worth more than 20 thousand pesos. I love that phone. It's my alarm, my organizer, my digicam and music player all in one. I do not ever want to live without that phone and now because of some shithead, I have to live without it.

I don't even know why these things happen to me. I am not an evil person. I do not do bad things to other people. I do not even yell at other people. I have never even cheated on a single test. So why would this world suddenly decide to let some asshole near me and steal my phone. I mean, I would've been alright if I even caught him stealing. But no, I walk to school like I always do and I just see my bag's zipper a little open and then it hits me, my phone has been stolen.

For a while I wanted to believe I just left my phone at home, I've done it so many times. So I cut my classes and race home praying to high heavens that I was just my usual forgetful self, that I just left the phone on my bed. But it wasn't there.

So the point is, some shithead lowlife got near me and stole my phone, the one valuable thing I own and not to mention my contact with the rest of this bleeping world.

To you who stole my phone, I know you don't have a computer much more an internet connection because you probably live in some dump somewhere in Markina, but I am telling you, I pray that your hands rot. I hope boils ooze out of your palms. And if you attempt to sell my phone for money, I hope your hands bleed and I hope you get the most painful migraine this world can ever give anyone. But if you plan to use money from my phone to buy food for your family, I pray you feel so much guilt you couldn't eat and I hope your family looks at you with sincere disgust. And I hope you live a life plagued with disease, I hope you suffer until you find it in your soul-less being to find a way to return that phone to me.

And as what was said in the film "raising helen", I want to "bury you so far down the earth that the heat from the earth's core will incinerate your sorry ass."

There. I want my phone back. You can call me materialistic and shallow. I don't care. But I want that phone back because seriously, my parents hate me and I don't even have a way to tell my friends how badly I feel.

It's sad enough that I've been crying like crazy but it's even sadder that I have to cry all alone because none of my friends know what's happening.

Nasa wikang Filipino ang klase ko sa pilosopiya kaya tatagalugin ko rin ang .

Sa isang pirasong papel, pinasulat kami ng philo prof ko ng impormasyon tungkol sa aming sarili, kasama na ang mga tanong tungkol sa paboritong pelikula, kanta at libro. At siyempre, may isang interesanteng tanong: "Ano ang isang bagay na nais mong gawin bago ka mamatay?".

Matapos kolektahin ang mga papel, tinawag at binasa ni sir isa-isa ang mga sinulat namin. Paminsan-minsan, nanghihingi siya ng paliwanag sa mga pinagsusulat namin.

Ang sumusunod ang isa sa mga pinaka- "enlightening' na pag-uusap na narinig ko sa buong buhay ko.

Prof: Hmmm... Nais mong gawin bago ka mamatay... mag-sky diving sa outer space?!?

Student: Yes sir!

Prof: (tatayo) Eh paano ka magsa-sky diving sa outer space eh walang gravity dun? Lulutang-lutang ka lang. Para ka lang lumalangoy.

Student: uhhhmmmm...

Prof: Saka, pano ka magsa-sky diving sa outer space eh wala naman sky dun? The fuck. Mag-muni kasi muna tayo sa mga ganyang bagay. (tatawa ng malakas)

Nakita niyo na. Iyan ang dala ng pilosopiya. Ngayon, alam na ng kaklase ko na hindi pwedeng mag sky diving sa outer space dahil una, hindi ka naman babagsak dahil walang gravity so technically hindi ka talaga pwedeng mag-dive at ang pinaka-importante, walang sky sa space.

Ang lalim di ba?

I have not blogged in such a long time that I actually forgot I had a blog.

So here I am, reviving my blog because well, busy times are coming and I need a place to rant.  

 This year, I am the head of the Human Resources Committee of my organization in school. And for me, this is totally scary because I am not so sure that I am stable enough to handle people.

I'm clumsy, I never remember anything and I am a nagger. I have mood swings where I go from screaming fits to crying in bathrooms. So hmmm... I bet the other officers of the org will have a field day watching me attempt to lead my committee.

My committee members will have fun too!  Because if you have a super crazy and overly impulsive leader, chances are activities will aways be just as crazy and just as spontaneous! And at least they can be sure that committee meetings will never be boring or uneventful.

*** 

 Mr. Incredible (of the movie, The Incredibles) had this thing where he says he works alone. Basically, that's how I like things too. And this is the primary reason why I'm scared of heading a committee. I like having things done my way. I like controlling every single minute detail of every thing. I just do. So having to mind ideas and feelings of tens of other people is a bit new to me. And I am trying to reach out to my members. I am trying to mind their feelings. And I'd like to think that I'm getting better at sharing and trusting work to other people.

So let's hope things go well for my committee. Let's pray I don't drive my members crazy and let's hope they don't lead me to suicide.

I think this year will be interesting. So maybe, you guys can expect better posts! 

I am not my normal self.  Fine, I'm not really someone you can categorize under "normal" but you know what I mean.

I want my happy self back. Lately, I have just been too melodramatic. I can't even stand to hear myself rant to everyone about everything.

You see, when you can't even like yourself, there's something very wrong.

Oh and I realized something -- I have an unexplainable attraction to things that will eventually kill me.

If someone warns me about how difficult something is, a bell goes off in my head and I make the stupid decision to try that difficult thing.

This masochistic thing is exactly the reason why I am in such deep shit.

****

I want to stop being so effing depressed so I'll end this post here. 

I have not blogged since forever.

***

For our final project in news writing class, we were required to make a newspaper. Yes, that's right. We had to make an entire newspaper from scratch, all articles, sections, columns and everything else have to be written and researched by the group. To add to that, there were only three of us in the group and we only had barely two weeks to gather news.

We started making the paper on Tuesday, we had to submit it by Thursday. Our group ( Steph, Karla and I) did a 24 - hour press. Literally. We started typing out the stories at 7 pm, we took a break at around 8:30 am the next day and went to school. At 2:30 pm, we got off from school, went back to our pub room (aka Steph's house) and continued writing and doing the layout for the paper until about 8:00 pm. After that, we immediately rushed off to UP to find a place that could print our newspaper.

Don't worry, we were able to insert about an hour or two of sleep and we did have designated 30-minute breaks throughout the night!

But oh my lord, those 24 hours or so are nothing but pure blood, sweat, and determination. Just imagine this, all three of us have recorded interviews, pages and pages of notes, countless diagrams and several pictures that we had to process in order to write all the stories and make the entire newspaper. Writing one news story is difficult enough, writing four in one night is pure pain.  And after having your ear glued to the recorder for hours and hours, you realize that you're already a little bit deaf. Staring at computer screens also made our eyes bloodshot and we look like heroine junkies.

News writing is just something that's mentally and physically draining. There are so many issues that need to be written about and we had to make sure all stories are factual and as un-biased as we can make them. It's just a really serious process. And there were times during the 24-hour press that the three of us weren't even talking to each other. We would just e-mail each other our stories when we finish even though we're all sitiing less than two feet from each other. We just had our own news writing worlds and we wanted to concentrate on each story.

The task was grueling but every time we look at the paper in progress, we just can't help but smile or giggle. We were, no, we ARE so proud of ourselves. We started out thinking we wouldn't  finish anyhting but as hours pass and we see the pages fill up, we noticed that we could actually do it. And hey, we had quality stories, well-researched and well-documented. We also had nice pictures! (To think we only used a 2-megapixel camera phone.)

When we finished the newspaper and finally had it printed, you cannot imagine how happy and fulfilled we felt. It's like when you're dead thirsty and have been walking under the hot sun for eternity and then you find a tiny little store and you buy water. Then the store person hands you this ice-cold bottle of water and you drink it like you've never drank water before and you feel the memories of those hours in the sun just disappear. It was like that, and so much more. Pure bliss.

And the best thing about it is that we had the best group ever. No drama, no catfights. Nobody needed to be bugged about the work she needed to do. We all had initiative and we all had the most amazing work-ethic.

I swear. We were too good to be true but we're good and we're true! See you guys in thesis class!

****

But of course, life just don't want me to have too much happiness in one day.

Right when I was at my most excited self ( we were submitting the paper that we are so proud of), I received a text message from my journalism teacher.

<insert drumroll here> 

The text was simple and straight forward. The message: I was going to flunk journalism class if I don't get a perfect score for the last two papers.

And the great part about the message is its complete and utter lack of any feeling of hope whatsoever. I mean, who are we kidding here? My journ teacher does not give perfect scores. Go figure.  

The sad part is that every week, me and my journalism classmates -- we bust our asses writing stories only to find out that he would just give us a one out of five. And to add insult to injury, he won't only flunk you, he'd tell you that you cannot write.

It's just so difficult because I write my stories and I do research beforehand and I forego sleep just to get everything done.  And then when I return to class, he'll hand me back the paper I worked so hard on and I would see it all bloody with his comments and corrections written in red ink. Don't get me mistaken. I'm not a wuss. I've been writing my entire school-life, I'm used to criticisms regarding my writing. It's just that with my journ teacher, he does not only give criticisms. He tells you you're a loser who can't write to save your life. And sometimes, he has too many comments, I can't even see what I wrote anymore. So I'm thinking maybe next time, I should just attach a blank piece of paper. I wouldn't want my teacher to run of space, I want him to have all the space he can get so he can insult my writing as much as he possibly can.

The worst part is, he'd put our papers on transparency and edit/check it in front of the class. And of course, he'll have lengthy discussions focused on telling the class how stupid it was to write this certain statement that you included in your story.

And now, I just might flunk his class. And I don't, I NEVER flunk my classes.

****

But whatever. Journ teacher, you can tell me whatever you want to tell me. But understand this -- I worked too hard and an F is just not right. And you cannot tell me I can't write. Talk to my literature teacher, Mr. Cayanan. Talk to my Palanca- award winning high school teacher, Ms. Sanchez. They'll tell you I can write. I can write. Screw you.

Most everything in my life is going well right now. You cannot screw it up for me. I won't let you. 

So journ teacher, I say to you , in the words of fabulous Barbra Streisand:

"Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?" 

Maturity. Wisdom. Fame, fortune and all that jazz.

Growing up, you would think these things would come naturally. But they don't.Then you realize you're only a couple of days from your 18th birthday - the day you become a woman, or so they say --  and you have no choice but to be depressed.

And that is exactly where I am: a few days away from my birthday and depressed. Very depressed.

 
It's just difficult to face the number... the big one eight and realize that when you reach that age, people expect you to be different, to be all grown up and mature. But people can't transform into full blown, responsible adults just because the damned clock struck 12. Being a year older does not mean I'll start cleaning my room or washing my clothes. It doesn't mean I'll turn in my schoolwork on time. It doesn't mean I'll stop watching Spongebob Squarepants in exchange for the nightly news. That's just it. It does not mean anything.

Is that not a sad realization -- that years are just passing by and you are not changing?

I am the same self I was years ago. And I am not anymore responsible than when I was in kindergarten-- I still lose my pens and I still draw on my hands <and on my desk>.

It's the same me, turning 18 and realizing that maturity,money and success are just not coming the way I thought they would. But maybe they will come eventually. 18 after all is not the end of the world.

And I’d also like to think I’m pretty good at it. Not today though. Not today.

I open Microsoft Word and I see nothing but an expanse of blank space. Just that empty, glaringly white page. I look at it and I panic.

Even now, I am completely terrified, overwhelmed by this page. I feel like I am typing these words not to convey anything but only to cover up the space, to calm my nerves

Don’t get me wrong. I have good days, great days. There are those days when a blank page is exciting. Those days when I cannot wait to fill up the page with all that my brain can pour.

Sadly, this is not one of those days. My brain is dead. The blank page killed it.

 18 Gifts I want for my Birthday:

1. A Series of Unfortunate Events Boxed Set

-- The entire set will cost about 8, 000 pesos. But can you really put a price on happiness? Apparently, you can. It's 8000 pesos.

2. Tickle-Me Elm, 5th Generation

- It's Elmo and it giggles! What more can an overgrown toddler ask for?

 3. A brand new car!

-- Nothing says happy birthday like the roar of a brand-spangking-new engine! Any car would do. However, I'd like to drive a pick-up please!

4. A pink or purple laptop

-- I'm not going to pretent like I understand computers. I really don't. But I need something I could type on that's portable. So you guys can figure out all the techy stuff. I just want it in pink or purple!

 5. A day at Enchanted Kingdom

-- I have never been to EK. I know, I'm a loser. So on my birthday, I want to de-loser-fy myself. Someone take me to EK!

 6. A super hot Greek boy

-- Let's make it clear. I want a Greek boy, not a Greek boyfriend. My school is just so boring and the guys aren't cute. I just want someone pretty to look at!

 7. Tickets to a Madonna/Nelly Furtado Concert

-- Sure, tickets are expensive. Sure, you would have to pay for airfare and hotel too because they don't stage their concerts here. But is money as important as the immense love I will have for you?

8. New Shoes

-- I love shoes. I know my feet always end up bruised and gunk but I don't care! I love shoes. A shoe-filled birthday would be amazing!

9. World Peace

-- I don't like wars. I especially don't like people dying for stupid wars. So on my birthday, maybe one of you guys can solve all the world's problems and bring peace to so many warring nations.

10. New Clothes

-- I'm a girl so yes, I do love clothes! And if you do decide to give me new dresses, feel free to message me and ask for my size!

11.A new House

-- I want a bigger,better house! If you love me, you would give me a house. That's just what love is, give and take. I give you thanks, you give me a house!

12. Friends Boxed DVD Set ( Complete seasons 1 - 10)

-- If you ever really knew me, you would know I'm addicted to Friends! And there is no rehab for this sort of thing. The only way to go is to sustain and feed the addiction. So make those DVDs come my way!

13. Anime DVDs

-- Any anime is fine. All animes would be so much more lovely!

14. A tiara!

-- I want to be a princess! And I want my own tiara too! I know, I'm being such a brat, but this is my birthday list and I can list whatever I want!

15. A vacation to FIJI

-- God, that place looks so breathtaking. And that was just on TV, how much more beautiful can it get in person? I want to find out! Take me to FIJI!

17. Trip to Disneyland!

-- Every kid or at least every person who feels like a kid, they all dream of Disneyland. I share the dream.

18. End of Poverty

-- It would be so lovely if everyone in this world can have all the things they need to thrive and survive. It would be so nice if everybody can eat everyday and pay for school and get a home. And it would be perfectly lovely if all poverty would end and then I would be sure that as I am m typing out a list of all the gifts I want, no child is dying of hunger or cold. Yup, that would be beautiful.

So there, these are all the things I want. Make me happy and grant me even a few of these wishes!

Do you know that feeling when you're so tired and broke and hungry but you don't mind because you love what you're doing? Yes, that feeling. I love that feeling.

Over the past few weeks, I have started doing fieldwork for my journalism classes. We would be assigned to a group, three people in each and we would be given a certain medium or beat to work on. So far, I have been assigned to newspapers (I also worked on editorial and opinion) and I have also been assigned to the lifestyle beat. (By the way, a beat is a particular place or subject matter that journalists are asked to cover like the Malacañang beat, Congress beat, lifestyle beat, police beat, etc.)

Our assignments mainly involve interviewing journalists in the certain field or beat and asking them about the ins and outs of what they do, how they do it and what they need to be able to keep at it. Just really basic stuff like that.

So far, I (along with my groupmates) have interviewed three people:

1. Isaac Belmonte (Editor-in-chief of the Philippine Star)

-- He was so much fun! And very, very informative too. His interview was sort of my first real-life look at the newspaper business. I mean, I know what goes on at a publication basically from the books I've read or from classroom discussions. So it was very different when an actual editor-in-chief tells you how a paper is run. Also, he has this porcelain cat that meows every now and then. He would be all serious, talking about bribes and payoffs in journalism and then suddenly, this cat would meow and we would all laugh.

2. Tessa Prieto-Valdes (Lifestyle columnist of the Inquirer, in/famous "fashionista" and self-proclaimed gay icon

-- I love her. I really, really do.  She asked us to go to her house and as expected, her house is as outrageous as the victorian wigs that she wears on an everyday basis. Hello? She has a huge safety pin, contorted to look like a man and it was 'reading' Kama Sutra. And when Ms. Tessa finally came down to see us, she had a platinum victorian wig that was about a foot high, and on it was a red flower that was as huge as a plate.

Looking at what she weras and from reading her column (which is almost a handbook on what parties or personalities are hot or not), you would think that she can only talk about clothes and make up and parties. But when we interviewed her, we were really suprised to see that she knows a lot about the newspaper business. She even explained the things people and corporations do to get their products featured. She also talked about story-buying and all those serious things.

People might get distracted by her super-long-tarantula-ish eyelashes or her over-the-top dresses but beyond all that,  she's actually someone who knows what she's doing, not only as a writer but as a part of an entire publication. ( Her family actually owns the Inquirer!)

3. Daphne Oseña-Paez (Host, ANC Life and Urban Zone)

-- Ms. Daphne is one of those people who have that unexplainable glow. I mean, the real glow, not the mystic tan kind. She's one of those people who when you meet, you just feel like at some point, angels will pop out from behind her and go, "Hallelujah!".

No, seriously, she's really pretty. And very smart. She kept on insisting or reiterating that people can't just get into lifestyle and become hosts just because they're fashionistas. I think she dwells on this because even though, she could very well just ride on her face value, she's actually someone who learned the TV industry the hard way. She's learned to direct, write, edit and produce her own shows. Also, she's experienced having to do her stories alone and with a home video camera because no one initially wanted her stories. In our interview with her, we really learned a lot about the industry. (Oh, and she keeps saying she feels kind of insulted, seeing all the models getting into lifestyle just because they're pretty. She said that unlike them, she actually worked to be where she's at.)

++ So there, I've interviewed really interesting people. I love it.

The thing that makes the assigments difficult is that we have exactly seven days from the day the assigment is given to the day we have to turn in our report.

And the interviewing part or even the part where we have to gain access or contact with the interviewees isn't the difficult part. The pain-in-the-ass part is the transcription process, the part where we have to type out what was said during the recorded interview. My God, it takes an average of 4-6 hours to transcribe a one-hour interview. The more annoying thing is that interviewees liek to schedule at the least minute so on the night before the repotr, everyone is on the computer with their recorders at hand, transcribing interviews. It's really quite tedious especially when the interviewee talks fast, you'd have to rewind, play and fastforward a sentence for like a dozen times. And my recorder's headset is monoaural, meaning sound only comes from one earphone. As you can imagine, after an entire night's worth of transcribing, I am almost deaf in one ear. And I begin talking like the interviewee. So after I transcribed Tessa's interview, I was all conio. Tessa, she talks like this:

 Interviewer: Ms. Tessa, paano po kung walang parties to write about?

Tessa: No, parang, like, there's actually dame. (Dame, as in marami).

Yes, I was talking like that for an entire day. Yes, I know weird.

So after transcribing, we still have to summarize and do our report. So we end up sleepless and hungry.And we're also broke from having to travel to interview places, and from buying tokens for the interviewees.

But as I said earlier, I don't mind being reduced to pretty much a zombie (bangag, sleepless and food-less). I love doing these interview things. They're so real, unlike classroom discussions. I love it.