Weekend domesticity.

We found ourselves along Reposo (renamed N. Garcia) in search of tiles, lighting fixtures, and that one chair that will add character to my small living room. I've been to most of the home depots around the metro, and diligently kept my little black book of furnishings and suppliers.

LRI Business Plaza (across Alliance Française de Manille, a place where I took French classes many moons ago) is home to various furniture stores, designers, and art galleries. There are still a lot of empty spaces, but there are enough retailers to pick up things from. I particularly liked the items from Origins and The Room Upstairs, where we stopped for cold coffee and antipasto - a crostini plate with a paté dip (and something else).


Time stops here. The Room Upstairs.


Iced mocha and a generous serving of crostini.


A must-visit for some quiet time.

Further down the street is the Budji Living Showroom, where I saw a black tanguile chair that I really liked. I felt like a voyeur going through the shop, where immaculate displays of living space were shown.Unfortunately, I haven't been to his design showroom in Bangkok, which supposedly, is more expansive than the one here.

Active Global Sourcing, Inc. carries beautiful tiles in clean display shelves. Tiles stores tend to unglamourously stack their tiles on the floor or stick them on sloping walls. My general beef with home stores here is that they don't really have websites you can check out prior to shopping. I love browsing West Elm and Design*Sponge for inspiration. Now why can't we have something like that?

Cibo was our last stop after more home shopping. Gino finally got his Brabantia bread bin that he's been wanting since we saw one during wedding registry shopping for a friend. A light, split-everything-for-two dinner of soup, salad and sandwich was the best way to end the night.

Hot soup for two.


Weekend reads.


Someone enjoyed dinner more than the other.

post script: I spent Sunday splurging on goosedown pillows at Debenhams. I was lucky to find the last set on the rack. The sales lady told me that an old woman bought five sets the night before. That's around 15,000 bucks ($300) for 10 pillows. Wow.

I am a fan of the RA Rivera Fans Club.

I met RA when I was still new to broadcasting and film. I didn't even know who he was, until he stepped inside the coffee shop where our meeting was. Oh. So that's him. You can't miss that mohawk. Definitely.

Norianians forever vs. RA Rivera Fans Club? Tough choice.


The Furball man has no fur.

All I Want for Christmas.

When I lugged Gino's Xbox 360 from the Funan IT Mall a few months ago, I didn't realise how much I'm going to covet his system now. I've been putting off spending on new toys because I'm currently renovating my place. Instead of obsessing over a new MacBook Pro, I'm busy computing for the number of porcelain tile pieces I need for my floor. Talk about a real paradigm shift.

So when I saw how drool-worthy Gears of War really is (damn you and your Samsung LCD TV and home theater system!), I think I'll have to be twelve again and beg my parents to buy me the console for Christmas. So far, it's the best graphics I've seen on a tactical action game. Gameplay feels flawless too.

Been also checking Sega's Condemned: Criminal Origins game. I like the thriller-FBI-CSI premise to the game, and of course, all the bloody thwacking you do with a pipe, one of the weapons you can arm yourself with. The prequel site is worth visiting. Forget the crappy game site. You get more information from forums, plus the videos are so small, my iPod Video feels like a wide-screen by comparison.



How lovely you are!


And the other games on my list:

• Call of Duty 3 (yes, Gelo, it's also out on Xbox)
• Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
  
• Dead Rising (zombie mall mayhem!)
• Lego Star Wars II (so cute!)
  
• Prey
  
• Splinter Cell Double Agent
  

Wishing Christmas comes early this year, 730PM, alone in our area.

Sick of FGD-titis.

I drove a total of 170km to moderate group discussions and conduct in-depth interviews for a mass market campaign that we're doing for one of our brands. I wasn't in the ideal state to facilitate, having that heady, "I just drove through shitloads of traffic" sensation, but ever since we had our training in Singapore, I've consciously made an effort to never take respondents for granted. And that includes making sure they're well fed and have refreshments on hand.

My sessions went well. I was profusely thanked by most people I spoke with, telling me that they enjoyed the little chat with me, and it was worth missing work for. (Awww).

The weekend was spent reviewing my tapes (all seven of them!), making me sicker than I already was. A bad throat and no yoga for a week didn't help at all.

Fast-forward to yesterday, more FGDs conducted by a research agency for a retail chain. Each group lasted around three hours long, 80 minutes more than the usual time spent for a group discussion. No food or drink was offered to the respondents during the session (heck, I can't even last through an hour's meeting without a cup of coffee). They weren't even asked if they wanted to take a break. The wrong questions were being asked, the moderator wasn't conscious of the time, and they did certain exercises wrong. It was awful.

The regional client was majorly pissed off. Much so that she's having the moderators who conducted the groups never to moderate again and to get the regional research agency's counterpart to fly in someone who can do the sessions instead.

Buti nga. I'm not a fan of this particular research group because they've made focus group discussions their cash cow, meaning any qualitative research that clients request for end up being an FGD as a default. I've sat through countless GDs that they've handled for different brands and clients to know that you can hardly squeeze anything insightful from their report. So much for real, creative thinking.

Suffering from a bad head cold. Fighting the temptation to skip work tomorrow (and the day after that and maybe until the weekend).

Shoes can tell you a lot about love.

It was a lovely pair that felt disjointed. One pair said ‘VE’ and the other ‘LO.’ The letters were fashioned from different fabrics – textured plaid, leather, and corduroy. Dark chocolate became the backdrop for the four-letter word that ran across each curved toe.

At first glance, you might say that they’re slightly schizophrenic, but you can’t deny that underneath all the trimmings, is a pair of shoes that made perfect sense as one. Even after spending time apart, each foot ahead of the other, they will eventually sit side-by-side at rest.

It is a pair that has no meaning when they’re not together.

To Gino, the VE to my LO.

A listing of books on my work shelf

I really should be bringing some of them home, but I'd rather leave them on my shelf a bit longer. It makes me look smart. Hehe.

1. Goodthinking (Wendy Gordon)
2. EF Lens Work III - The Eyes of EOS (Canon)
3. Crystal Report (Ogilvy)
4. The Mythology Class (Arnold Arre)
5. APG Creative Planning Awards 2003
6. Capoeira: A Brazilian Art Form (Bira Almeida)
7. Pour Your Heart Into It: How Starbucks Built a Company One Cup at a Time (Howard Schultz)
8. The 360 Degree Brand in Asia (Blair, Armstrong, and Murphy)
9. A new Brand World: 8 Principles for Achieving Brand Leadership in the 21st Century (Scott Bedbury)
10. Disruption: Overturning Conventions and Shaking up the Marketplace (Jean-Marie Dru)
11. Truth, Lies & Advertising: The Art of Account Planning (Jon Steel)
12. The Lonely Planet Guide to Experimental Travel (Lonely Planet)
13. Confessions of an Advertising Man (David Ogilvy)
14. The Geography of Thought - How Asians and Westerners Think Differently... and Why (Richard Nisbett)
    
15. Six Thinking Hats (Edward de Bono)
16. Why We Buy: The Science of Shopping (Paco Underhill)
17. Insights, Ideas, Influence (Ogilvy PR)
18. Secret Lives: Bju:ti and Secret Lives: Understanding the Influencers (Red Card)
19. Extra.Ordinary: An Amusing Guide for Unleashing Creativity (Ichiki + Umehara)
20. Lonely Planet: Beijing (Lonely Planet)

When business and pleasure mix well. (The Singapore Fling)

Despite what most locals will say, there is quite a lot to do in Singapore. Especially when you're with the right company.

I dug up some photos from the SEA Planning training we had with Wendy Gordon, preeminent qualitative research goddess a few months ago. Three days of rigourous training coupled by madcap evenings spent wasting is truly a different way of spending time at the Lion City.


Hamming it up at The Scarlet Hotel


Flair! Funky toiletries


Tian Tian Haianese Chicken Rice, Maxwell Food Centre


Dimsum overload, Isetan food court


A night with Stella Artois


Jump! Fullerton Hotel


Art snoozes through the brainstorm


Got envy?

Blog-obsessed, no thanks to Google Analytics.

It's been three days since I started checking how my blog is doing as far as visits and hits are concerned. I get thrilled seeing how I'm getting visitors from the Spain (ola!), Japan (konichiwa!), and Singapore (hello, lah!). Why they're visiting my blog, I don't really know. But it's nice that they do anyway.

Google Analytics is currently used by our Interactive team to monitor statistics on websites we run. I remember when you have to course everything through a website administrator just to get some statistics on a website. Now, everything is simplified and convenient through a free analytics tool like the one from Google.

Below is a screenshot of the Geo Map Overlay that tells me graphically where my visitors are from.


You're on my top 10: Philippines, U.S., Canada, Singapore, Romania, France, Netherlands, HongKong, Switzerland, and Malaysia

As much as I try not to get so involved with keeping my statistics up, afterall, I don't blog for that purpose, it's a good way of knowing that there are people who do take the time to read up what you've put up, and hope that they're actually getting something out of it.

Doing my helping-the-world bit as a mouse-potato.

I've been on the World Community Grid (WCG) for about a week now and I'm using my computer's idle time to help out with the "FightAIDS@Home" project. I also joined a team to help contribute more computing time.

The premise to WCG is to use computer idle time (like when you go out for that extra long coffee break and still file it as "productive thinking time" in your timesheets haha) for grid computing. According to the WCG website, "grid computing joins together many individual computers, creating a large system with massive computational power that far surpasses the power of a handful of supercomputers. Because the work is split into small pieces that can be processed simultaneously, research time is reduced from years to months. The technology is also more cost-effective, enabling better use of critical funds."

More than the thought of helping out with such an ambitious project, I'm totally geeking out on the idea of how technology is used on a massive scale with so much participation from the average Juan. Pretty darn cool. All you need to do is download the software that makes this all possible.

It's Halloween again.

Draft beer, pritchon (roast pork spring rolls), role-playing at the BPI, and a hired photographer. Can it get any better next year?


Mickey shows Snow White a good time.


Can Stitch get any cuter than Lilo?


My favourite DOM. Hee hee.


Show 'em Hooters cups!


Musketeer takes a break


Wrong brief, Pepper!


Mickey does Pocahontas next.


Cowgirl by Elly. Vest by Rajo.


Mad Disney world!


The Simpsons (minus Megan)


Ode to Gavin.


We all want to be like Gavin.


Tinkerbell is a rockstar.


The photogs hamming it up.

Photos taken by Ledh & Eileen, October 27, 2006

You can find inspiration in everything.

I recently "un-lost" You can find inspiration in everything*: (*and if you can't, look again) by Paul Smith over the weekend. I had forgotten how quirky a read it is - like having different stories, genres and authors in one volume, yet all with the same Paul Smith voice to it. I received this book as a gift and it's been one of the most refreshing titles I have in my library. My work in advertising literally requires me to constantly look at things with fresh, inspired eyes, no matter how much you've had it with the brand (blah) or the client (bleh). This is a good reminder of how you can never really exhaust creativity, nor should you take it for granted.


"Literally anything can spark off an idea."

While the world waits for me.

Lately, writing has become an exercise in escape. Any place becomes somewhere with my black Moleskine notebook and a random pen fished out from my bag.

Censorship is limited to syntax while your own thoughts are free to wander. There are no dead ends here, except for the occasional writer’s block – something that coffee and smokes wouldn’t cure. (Alternately, wine in the evenings can be quite stimulating, especially when you’re in the confines of your room.)

The world, I sense, feels a bit betrayed. In my youth I dreamt about an exploration in time and space, consuming and being consumed by what it has to offer. Now it just waits for me longingly, impatient yet hopeful. That’s all it could do.

Eight years in cryogenic limbo. That’s what it is. Your life on pause.

In three months I anticipate liberation; and with it comes a lot of difficulty. I’ll have to be many things at once: a capitalist soothsayer, underpaid scribe, caffeine pimp, and academic whore. Kayod kalabaw never had so much meaning, until now.

It will be all worth it. I know that for sure. I’ll never have to be answerable to anyone except myself. Independence is not relegated to “doing what you want, because you want to.” So selfish and media-created. I’ll finally get to live my life as it should be lived. Responsibly. No waste-away Saturday nights, just quiet solitude and massages at Sonya’s Garden. Or jazz nights with my adopted little sister and that new guy she’s seeing. Or breakfast brunches with the soul mate. Or tripping out with my camera in Batanes (and mounting that second exhibit).

Or…

For now, I write.

My tummy has abandoned me! A bout with hyperacidity.

It's never pretty to see blood, especially if it's your own. What was supposed to be a night of gay(!) merry-making at O Bar (J. Nakpil, Malate) ended up as fluorescent stopover at the emergency room of Makati Medical Center.

Hyperacidity has long been a nuisance to me, aggravated by countless meal-skippings and caffeine indulgence. I've been on medication long enough to know that what I have is not your ordinary, OTC, Kremil-S hyperacidity.

I actually should've known better than to invite a bad attack. But I never expected it to be that bad. Okay, how bad? I threw up blood in the wastebasket of the female loo (sorry, Peter!). And while all that was happening, Gino and some other people were pounding on the door like crazy. Apparently, I was gone a long time, and they weren't sure what the heck happened to me. I felt so bad I couldn't hear anything anymore. I couldn't even stand because of the sharp pain in my stomach.

We made a mad, albeit clumsy dash to the car followed by more puking episodes (dude, I'll replace your wastebasket, promise). Enroute to the hospital, we ended up going to Binondo, just after Jones Bridge (so you were panicking after all, hehe).

I never liked hospitals. They smell sterile and you always expect to see a sad bunch of bystanders waiting for whomever they brought it.

They inserted a needle on my hand, and shot around three vials of liquids to help the acid and pain subside. I was just too banged up to notice.

The ER doctor said I'm no longer allowed to drink coffee and alcohol.

Tough luck. I'm giving myself two weeks.

Old school lust.

I've been drooling over the Leica MP ever since it debuted in 2003. My grandfather had an old Leica viewfinder, one of the first point-and-shoot cameras around. I remember seeing it in an old, musty box in storage a couple of years ago. Must be worth quite a lot now.


"Not a quick photographic fling, but the camera of a lifetime."


"Mechanical perfection. Nothing else."

www.leica.com

I just got the M-system brochure and have been feeling antsy about whether to get this or not. (Furniture vs. camera?)

Now if I could only find someone who's willing to play sugar daddy for this little baby.

Book nerding. A respite.

I've been seeking refuge at bookstores lately. Like twice a week. At least. Re-discovering my inner-nerd is quite fulfilling. I remember devouring 2-3 books a week when I was much younger. Weekends were indulgent couch reads of two books a day. Of course, there were hardly any distractions back then. Except maybe video games at seven in the morning.

Recent purchases include Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders (Neil Gaiman) and Tales from Nowhere, an anthology of travel writings from Lonely Planet.




While it's not his best, Gaiman's third collection was more than enough to satisfy cravings for his work (I haven't read Anansi Boys but I enjoyed American Gods very much). It actually feels a bit masochistic of me to suck in all thirty-two stories and anticipate all the strange dreams I have every time I read any of his work. Notable stories include How to Talk to Girls at Parties and A Study in Emerald.



I've only started reading this one, but the premise to this new anthology from Lonely Planet is an interesting one. It focuses on adventures that suddenly bring you to "nowhere." Apparently, nowhere is not the same as getting lost, but more like a state of being - accidental discoveries that make travel more special. Makes for pretty good beach or airplane reading.

We're scheduling an early exploration of Fully Booked at the SM Mall of Asia soon, which is where their biggest branch there is (the horde of mall rats can be overwhelming, I heard). Hope my wallet holds out.

Kaleidoscope evolution.

Reminiscent of Eric Carle's illustrations, Nike's Rise of the Hybrids is quite an entertaining trip. Darwinian theory on acid? Maybe. And Noah's Ark was actually a rocket. Check the rest of the series at Nike Lab.

Something to smile about today.

My favourite picture, taken a few years ago. Gritty, intimate, and real.

After everything that's happened in the past few days, I needed something to be happy about.

Pensive, 5PM, sipping coffee at my desk.

Quickie coffee is a mistress.

It was a warm evening when we walked to our favourite coffee shop along Leviste, a few blocks from where I work. Some joggers whizzed by, indifferent to our occupying most of the sidewalk. The air felt heavy with promise of rain.

When we got there, Gino settled for a café mocha while I debated whether to get a half-decaf of anything at all. Having coffee after six would keep me up well past midnight. I plunked down a hundred and ten bucks for a short caramel macchiatto. Half-decaf.

The sofa by the store window was our spot. It was in fact, an odd little space, not quite where all the tables where grouped together. Separate yet shared. It also felt like teetering between being inside and outside the store at the same time. The overhead lamps gave it a warm, illuminating feel.

Some nights we play catch up on stories and engage in a little shoptalk; and then there are those evenings where you just come across a thought-provoking discussion on what’s there all along.

“There’s really nothing like having coffee this way,” he said, referring to the sweetened brew in his mug. “Instant coffee doesn’t even come close.”

Because it’s instant gratification. That’s all it is.

A teaspoon in a mug, some hot water, maybe a bit of sugar and cream – all you need to deliver that quickie boost.

The relationship here is an obligatory one, and self-serving. No delight in it except for the expected dose of caffeine. Nuances and tastes are lost, as is with relationships that are fleeting and forgetful. There’s not much to remember by. Nothing to savour except for the bitter aftertaste it gives you.

Coffee that’s gingerly prepared from bean to cup proffers a lot of attention. Nothing about it feels exploited or cheated. The taste unfolds in your cup and there’s a richness to savour. Scents linger even after the cups are emptied. The kind of sensitivity expressed in making this kind of coffee just feels more intimate. Even long after the caffeine is gone; you would always remember what it was you had in that cup of coffee.

The rain came down hard that night, pelting hapless pedestrians with large drops. I gazed outside the window, looking at how fast the street emptied of people.

“And there’s nothing like sharing coffee with you,” I told him, smiling at my own cheesiness. In exchange for this confession, I am rewarded with a lingering kiss that’s as warm and memorable as the coffee in my mug.

Loving where I am, 7 in the evening.

Bored ad guys procrastinating overtime work

Here's what you see past 8pm, with nary a boss in sight.


My stick is longer than yours.



The requisite boy band pose.



Koya, wag po, koya.



I think I just saw an ad idea.



Blue squinties.



Yet another requisite boy band pose.


Uwing-uwi na. 8:50PM, the Ohjilbi office.

Walking photo tour of Binondo.

Binondo has always been part of my childhood not only because I'm Chinese, but because I grew up having an assortment of dimsum and other herbal medicines at home. When my classmates would bring baon of hotdog and rice, I'd bring a Thermos lunchbox full of stir-fried beef and broccoli, and fried siomai. It didn't occur to me that most kids don't have the luxury of "gourmet" lunches from home.



First meal stop. Where is this again?

I can't quite remember where we went first, but it was a small dimsum place that used to be a firefighter's hangout. Old fireman hats adorn the walls and you can actually ask to try them on. Just make sure there are no cucarachas lurking beneath the lining inside.


La Resurreccion Chocolate

Inhale deeply when visiting this chocolate (tablea) factory on Ongpin Street. La Resurreccion Chocolate is a slightly cramped space where moulds of chocolate are prepared the old-fashioned way. Keep your tongue away. The chocolate is bitter, they way they normally are unprocessed.


Ongpin-Salazar streets

Comfort and simplicity are key when exploring the streets of Binondo. None of those frou-frou things that make you look like an outsider begging to be pickpocketed. The walking tour we had was big on WALKING. If you're iffy about getting a little soot on your feet, ditch the Havaianas, and go for sneakers.


Payphone and energy drink bottle.


Checkmate.

The two men playing chess were oblivious to any potential intrusion, including me and my camera. I had to crouch a bit and inch slowly to get a better look. It was a good call to take this in B&W.

I'm planning yet another trip to Binondo, on my own this time and just take in the sights (and the food of course). I've been here so many times, yet there's really nothing like new discoveries in familiar places. It's like re-reading a book or watching a movie again - you always see something that you didn't see before.

And besides, I hate to be a foreigner in my own country and it still baffles me to this day that there are still some people who have no idea where Ongpin is (darling, that's where your tikoy comes from.)

For more walking tours, check out Ivan Dy's Old Manila Walks