The good ones always go first

It’s a sad news that greeted me this morning as I checked my yahoo homepage. Patrick Swayze has died at the young age of 57 due to pancreatic cancer. Somehow, this news has affected me more than the death of Michael Jackson. For what reason, I don’t really know.

As far as I can remember, the earliest I’ve seen of Patrick Swayze was from the series North and South. I was forced to watch it as my father borrowed dozens (and I mean, literally, dozens) of betamax tapes (’80’s flashback!) from the neighborhood video rental. It was a story of the  U.S. civil war (I think) and my father was predictably hooked. Almost every weekend afternoon was spent in front of the tv, munching on chips and drinking iced tea while watching canons go off. I was still young back then and I couldn’t really understand the plot. But the one thing that kept me watching was Patrick Swayze. He was just darned good looking, the kind you wanted to take home to meet your parents., even as he shows a hidden tendency to become the bad boy you’ve dreamed of taming. I remember asking my father if Patrick really walked with a cane in real life or if it was just his character. I can’t remember now my father’s answer, or even how the story ended. But I do remember Patrick Swayze.

Of course, to the masses, Patrick Swayze is more popularly known as the sexy dance instructor in Dirty Dancing. But, of course, at the time that movie was shown, my parents forbade me from even uttering the title for fear that it might instill dirty thoughts in me (hah!). It was only later on that I had the chance to see it and learn that he can really dance. It wasn’t the kind where actors where taught how to dance so it could be part of the film. Patrick’s moves were graceful and natural. Not to mention that he had a wonderful voice to match his moves.

And then there was the movie Ghost, very controversial back then. I remember it was shown as an R18 movie and I was still below 18. My mother and I wanted so badly to see it that she told me, if I was asked at the cinema entrance about my age, I was to tell I was 18 (even though I was only somewhere 14 to 15 years old). You can tell the movie is good when your own parent teaches you to lie. In any case, I was tall for my age. Nobody at the cinema entrance even bothered to ask me anything. As we watched, I could understand the R18 rating for the movie but what really struck me was the love story that defied death. And Patrick was just the right actor for the role.

Now, Patrick’s really dead. I wonder if he’s still haunting the streets looking for ways to contact the wife he left behind and to tell her he loves her. Patrick Swayze will certainly be missed. But, at least, now, he’s some place else where cancer can’t hurt him. There, he can keep on dancing.

 

Chris Farley chippendales original skit

R.I.P. Patrick Swayze.
(*Thanks to MAZLABEL4 for uploading this video.)

 

Back from vacation

To celebrate our third year wedding anniversary, the husband and I went on a short vacation. We spent four marvelous days in Bohol. It was our first time to see the scenic chocolate hills and the hypnotic eyes of a tarsier. It was during the countryside tour that the husband confessed that since he’d learned about chocolate hills in grade school, he longed to see it. At such a young mind, I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he could take a bite out of it, seeing as how he loves chocolates.

We spent half a day at the Panglao Island Nature Resort and vowed we’d visit it again soon. The clear blue ocean and the white sand was exquisite. The husband and I were so enthralled by the beauty of the beach that we almost didn’t notice our skin baking in the sun. Sure, we ended up with our backs slightly sunburnt but it was a small price to pay for a wonderful experience.

On our trip back to Cebu, I couldn’t help but notice just how clear the waters were even at the pier. I had the strong urge to stop and take pictures but my SLR was already safely packed in my bag. Besides, I had a nagging feeling that the people lined up behind me would be mad if I were I held them up any longer than was needed. So, I just took out my trusty 2-megapixel cellphone cam instead and took this itty-bitty photo. Too bad I can’t enlarge this one, though.

In any case, that’s not the last Bohol has seen of me and the husband. I’m pretty sure we’ll be back there soon, seeing as how easy it was going there and getting around. Hopefully, the waters will stay clear, the sand untarnished and the people as warm as ever.

 

Love and Lies

As I write this, somewhere in the metropolis a heart is grieving for love untimely lost.

Yesterday, I woke up to what I thought would be another ordinary day. But before lunch was even through, news came to me of a friend’s tragedy. Her heart had been broken, her love taken away without even so much as a warning.

Her name was Happiness — or at least that’s what she was back then. She was with a guy we all admired. He was tall, fair-skinned and handsome. He had qualities belonging only to the man of your dreams: he was nice, kind, funny and a gentleman in every sense of the word. They’d been together for as long as I could remember. In fact, they were that kind of couple that you wouldn’t refer to one without also mentioning the other. They were inseparable. And so we grew accustomed to such inseparability.

Having been together so long, it was only opportune that they marry someday, if not soon. Just as they were already planning their wedding, he suddenly decided to break it up.

They were in the car travelling home one night. They had just celebrated their anniversary a few days before. On the way, he suddenly parked the car at the shoulder and confessed “I don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry.” And with a pat on the shoulder, he returned to Happiness the plans for their wedding.

But he wasn’t telling the entire truth.

His change of heart was because of another girl who stealthily plotted her way into his heart and alienated his emotions from Happiness. Another girl snaked her way in between two lovers in such an effective manner that she was able to ruin a relationship within a short span of time.

Happiness she was no more.

As a friend, I was flabbergasted. I could not have imagined, never in a billion years, that he was capable of such an atrocity. He of the angelic face, soft-spoken and gentle-mannered ways. I would have rather learned that he had succumbed to a single night’s infidelity than for him to actually break her heart and leave her. She was, after all, his Happiness.

It is truly an unfortunate event that has befallen my friends. I grieve for her loss and I am disappointed by his palpable mistake. It is even sadder that he has not seen the error of his ways. Perhaps, it is too early for him to realize so. But I am unsure if things could ever go back to the way it was. Sometimes, change is not necessarily good.

I grieve for broken hearts.

 

In the name of the father…

It’s father’s day today. So  here’s a big holler to all the fathers out there.

My father was the first one I greeted today when I woke up at ten in the morning. Hey, it’s the weekend, so I get to sleep in late. My dad’s not really very communicative. When I called him up this morning, there were no tearful “I love you dad” or “You’re the best dad!” He’s the kind to say “Thank you” and then move on to the next topic. He’s not really emotional. I used to think I got that from him. When I was a kid, I wasn’t the type to get easily carried away by my emotions. But as I grew older, I was fighting hard not to cry at mushy movie scenes. So, I suppose, my mother’s gene came through.

Unlike others, I wouldn’t claim that my father’s perfect. He’s just like any other human being: he’s flawed. I’ll be the first to attest to that. Of course, there was a time when I thought my dad was superman. I mean, he certainly could drive like a speeding bullet. But I suppose even superman has some frailties. After all, he is susceptible to the weakening powers of kryptonite.

It wasn’t too long ago when I first learned of my father’s indiscretion and it’s permanent effect. It was during the summer back when I was in college. One night, he called me over and casually dropped the bomb on me, as if talking about it was as normal as talking about the weather. He explained why he did it…but of course, I didn’t buy that excuse. He promised he wouldn’t do that again, saying my mother deserved nothing but the best that he could give her. And yet, years later, another confession, another permanent effect.

I used to be mad at him, for doing what he did when he said he wouldn’t. But before long, I realized it wouldn’t do me any good. He is my father, after all. No matter what happened, it doesn’t change that fact. If my mother could forgive me, there was no reason why I shouldn’t.

Despite his flaws, I find that he’s tried hard to be a good father to me. And for this, I think he’s the best dad in the world.

 

Lucky number 13

For Anoop Desai, 13 is the luckiest number.

In an unprecedented move, American Idol judges decided to put not 12 but 13 lucky finalists in this season 8. But what has really been predictable with this season? As the show itself has advertised, this is the biggest, if not craziest, season yet.

First, there is the addition of a new judge in the person of Kara DioGuardi. This has proven to be an improvement, so far, for the show. She has given valuable advice to contestants — advice they can actually understand and use. As far as I’m concerned,  she has more credibility insofar as handing out advice to American Idol wannabe’s (compared to Paula Abdul). She is, after all, an accomplished singer. Abdul’s criticisms and/or advice are sometimes undecipherable,  i.e., describing voices as “full of color” and such other adjectives which would not ordinarily be associated with singing. Kara keeps it real, calling as spade a spade. Paula, on the other hand, will always find something to praise about a contestant, whether or not related to the improvement of one’s singing prowess. One cannot be sure if this should be taken as flattering or degrading, e.g. telling a contestant that at least she looked pretty. As proven time and again, at least in this contest, prettiness will not win you the coveted title. In fairness, however, to Paula, she has given character to the show (although second only to Simon Cowell) with her mysterious words. Words so mysterious she has been accused of coming to the show drunk (well, that’s what my friends and I think sometimes, based only on what and how she’s talking).

Second, the show has taken its auditions to farther places, even including Puerto Rico. That can only be a testament to the lengths the show will probably go to for this season.

Third, and perhaps the most significant of all changes, the elimination leading to the 12 lucky finalists has been altered., i.e., from picking out who goes home to who goes on. Due to this, the finalists no longer consist of 6 girls and 6 boys. The old method would have given a bigger chance to the guys this year, considering that they only need to not have the lowest number of votes. With the new method, however, the show has seen to it that only the cream of the crop remain standing.

And so, with a stroke of luck (or, perhaps, through the premeditated planning of the American Idol judges, with an attempt at grandiose), Anoop Dawg has made it as a finalist on American Idol season 8. He has proven himself to be a good singer. But that should not be enough. I like him. He looks like a real person (as opposed to that Tatiana character — in my opinion only, of course). I hope he does well.