Claim to fame

I had a portfolio shoot a couple of weeks ago. It was upon the insistence of this modeling agency who happens to be our client. I met this agency last June, when I was a temp Project Coordinator because the old one suddenly got sacked. In between going over the contract, the proprietor kept convincing me to join his agency. At the time, the idea was appealing but I didn't take it seriously. Of course, I would be lying if I said I had no aspirations of becoming a model. It never fails to overwhelmingly flatter me when somebody asks if I do modeling jobs or if I belong to an agency. I have been asked to do portfolio shoots by different photographers, but I guess what held me back is the fact that personally, I don't see myself as model material.

I decided to do the portfolio shoot because 1) it was free, 2) the agency was so persistent, and 3) it's not a bad source of extra income. My parents were aghast when they found out and immediately launched into a littany of thousands of girls being scammed only to get raped or robbed by fake modeling agencies. My dad even sent me a very long text message about the news of some girl's thigh having been found under a bridge while the rest of the body is still missing. Mind you, the most my dad would text me is, "K," if not a missed call to save on credits.

The first time I did a modeling job ever was when I was 17. My parents allowed me because I modeled with some friends. The second time I was subject to studio lights was early this year for the salon thingy. I went to the shoot alone and I can't say I enjoyed it. Being objectified is not fun to begin with; to have eyes graze you from the tips of your hair to your toenails is not the most pleasant feeling. And not to have a friendly face in the crowd behind the bright lights makes it an excruciating experience. That's why I was secretly glad when my parents said they were going to come to the shoot whether I liked it or not. Their presence would mean support, even though their main interest was to protect me. And since my parents + glamour is an invalid formula, I was able to make light of the whole situation and breeze through the sets like I was playing. What made it more fun was the presence of couple of friends who came to watch too. The group almost outnumbered the agency people in the studio, which is admittedly very amateurish of me.

What I remember about the shoot is I had to wear several short short dresses that met the frown of my parents. To make it worse, on my third set, I was asked to wear just a tube top (more like a bandana for breasts, actually) and my jeans. It was for my "Sexy Set." You can probably imagine the look on my parents' faces. They're like representatives of MTRCB censoring my every pose. In those instances when I could feel the weight of disapproval hanging on the air like a heavy blanket, I made the world shrink so that only the camera and I exist. I "made love to the camera" the way you allow eyes to reveal your soul only to the most trusted, intimate person. If you do that, you forget about being judged and you find yourself acting out the photographer's directions before he even finishes his sentences.

I just found out that the pictres are out on the photographer's Multiply site. There are almost 70 comments on the three pictures of my shoot. So far, all of them are nice, if not overly patronizing. I was so afraid I looked stupid that I didn't even take a look at the raw pictures right after the shoot. When I asked the photographer how I could get my hands on all the pictures, he said I'll need to get from "my agency," which is ridiculous since I don't have a contract with them. I wonder what they're going to do with the pictures, and I wonder how many of them are worthless (a.k.a. I look like an elephant or an idiot holding awkward poses). Then again, I don't want to know. At least I wouldn't get nightmares over rejection anxiety.

Vacation hang over

Hong Kong -- where everybody seems to come straight out of a fashion magazine.

Just got back from a five-day vacation last night. I really enjoyed this visit because of all the shopping I was able to do. Roaming around the bustling streets of Causeway Bay, you can't help but be inspired to add pizzaz to your style because everyone's just fashionable. It's a sin to look drab, especially when there's a mall or a boutique every other block, and models in billboards tell you what you must have now greet you in every turn.

The last time I was here, I was crazy about the cars. I was content to stand on the sidewalk and watch luxury cars speed by like a giant showroom. Amazing how interests evolve with time.

In Hong Kong, no matter how much you upped the ante of dressing up, you blend in the crowd. Here, as soon as I got off the plane, people were looking at me strangely. I realized that Hong Kong is a great place to be a woman. They all look powerful, confident and with a sense of purpose. I can pull off that look four days a week here (five if I dressed up nicely on casual Friday). I wonder, though, if it's really how they feel inside. Something tells me despite all the branded posessions and blingy gadgets, 70% go home to small, crowded apartments in getto neighborhoods.

I hate and at the same time love the consumerist culture in Hong Kong. I love how you're not allowed to be stupid, or else how will you pull your own weight? I love and hate how the shops don't open until 1pm even though their signs say "Business starts at 10:00AM" and close at 12 midnight. I love the proactive sales assistants in botiques and how they mistake me for a local. I love the expensive soy milk (HK$ 8 for a glass!), love and hate the tasty, greasy food. I love love the congee with twisted doughnut.

My trip there this year worked to my advantage. I have my own hard-earned money to burn, I was old enough to roam on my own, and EVERYTHING WAS ON SALE. If you can, go to Hong Kong NOW. End of season sale + Christmas sale + recession + I.T revolution Shopping Anniversary (the theme of Hong Kong now) = great, great bargains, the best of which are from Japanese brands. Forget about museums, sight-seeing and Disneyland. Shop!

Simply note-worthy

I'm having a crappy month at work. B taking me to dinner some weeknights just makes work crappier.

On the new Peri Peri Chicken...

- Peri Peri Chicken in Greenhills is now just Peri Chicken. Same menu but with a modern, upscale look. Now, it looks like the place you go to for margarita or starter drinks, instead of somewhere you eat chicken with your hands. I still prefer old Peri Peri.

On Ces Drilon...

- Ces Drilon was in the next table at Peri Chicken with her son. Her skin looks leathery tan and she has this taut look on her face. I thought her dark skin was a result of exposure to studio spotlight, but then I remembered she was kidnapped in Mindanao earlier this year. No wonder she seemed no fun to be around with. Her son looks mestizo. On the way out of the restaurant, I bumped into him coming in with a long-stemmed rose. What a nice date. I noticed, though, that their order came almost the same time ours did, when we came in 10 minutes earlier. The perks of being a celebrity...

On the Greenhills Christmas bazaar...

- Decided to walk around the tiangge before getting desert. You have been forewarned: the much hyped about lightshow is a joke. I was uncertain about the tiangge expedition at first because I don't think B goes to places like that. To confirm my suspicions, everytime we'd see goods being sold at absurdly cheap prices, he'd comment on the quality and ugliness among other things. We had fun eventually when I suggested we look for the one thing we wouldn't ever want each other to be seen in. It was hard because most of the clothes were unappealing, but finally we each found The piece of clothing we wouldn't be caught dead in. I can foresee we're going to have problems with my fondness for tiangge, but we'll cross the bridge when it's burning. Haha.

On Nestle Creamery and Animitsu...

- B wanted to take me to the Nestle Creamery as a surprise, but it was closed by the time we got there. It was a blessing in disguise because we ended up in this Japanese-inspired green tea cafe where we first tasted our Animitsu. An animitsu is the Japanese version of halo-halo combining shaved ice, ice cream, taro jam, green tea jelly, fruits, sweet azuki beans, and mochi balls. The Animitsu is worth a trip to Tomas Morato for, but on a packed night you'd want to leave after downing it. The place is so small that you can't help but resignedly eavesdrop on other people's conversation because you wouldn't be able to concentrate on what you're saying.



People say you get fat when you're happy. I say, how can you not when eating together is about all you can do as long as you're in a PG 13 relationship? Good thing I don't let B take me out everyday!

t_t

B betrayed me. He said he wouldn't. He knew I was hating Facebook. I didn't think it was important to him. I thought it's below him, this broadcasting thing.

To my friend who commented on my last post, here is your answer:


Brent is listed as in a relationship. 9:32am - 13 Comments

Jeana Paula Batac at 9:47am November 17
nice...official na..congrats dude..:)

Andrew Tung Borlongan at 10:11am November 17
i'm happy for you brother. :)

Ray Florence Reyes at 11:22am November 17
Aba teka.....Haha :) !Congrats fafa!

Chester Sing at 11:37am November 17
What kind? Hahaha!

Caliber King at 11:50am November 17
WOW.. so many people beat me to this HAHAHAHA.. (what kind!) GOOD QUESTION! i have a feeling theres more comments to come! hehe CONGRATS!!!

Annaise Fragante at 12:03pm November 17
Way to go Brent!

Almay Gaw at 12:32pm November 17
whos the lucky girl

David Thomas N. Singson at 4:09pm November 17
Congrats fafa!

Jeana Paula Batac at 8:06pm November 17
pipol are so happy that finally ur in a relationship...party na to...:)

Daffodil Costelo at 8:07pm November 17
really? wow who's the lucky girl?

Michael Rojas at 9:51pm November 17
Congrats! Kaya pala masipag sa collection ng accounts si Brent nowadays

Brent Co at 3:04am November 18
@ChesterNice one!@CaliI timed it really well, so they could beat you to it. Hahaha!@PauParty ka diyan.@MicMagastos magbuo ng auto eh.

Caliber King at 10:24am November 18
Seems like you havent answered ALL of your friends questions! This already feels like a forum! HAHAHAHAHA


I feel exposed. On a lighter note, is he Mr. Popularity or what?

Darn Facebook

I'm a very private person. I don't volunteer information unless it's crucial. I especially don't like sharing about my love life.

This blog? I think I only have 2 readers, both of whom are close friends, so I write freely. But unlike other people, I don't make my blog address my status in YM, or link it in Multiply or other social networking sites.

Which is why I am hating Facebook right now. My love life is supposed to be a mystery, but in one click I broadcasted to the entire online community that I am now "no longer listed as Single."

I am no longer listed as Single because I chose blank in the status part of my profile. I thought it would be safe that way because when necessity calls for it, I wouldn't have to change from Single to In a relationship and back again if things don't work out. Little did I know removing my status would have the same effect as saying, "I'M TAKEN."

See, I can't be taken because I have two cousins in my contacts who will rat on me to my mom. Now I'm plagued with comments/questions from contacts (including professional contacts, mind you) and everyone is waiting for an answer. If I just ignore them, maybe they'll forget about it.

I've been Single for so long that being regarded as an attached entity feels as alien as having a new name.

Adjusting

When you let somebody into your life, expect your routine to fly out the window. When I get home from work, or gym, or gimik with friends, I switch on the TV with my mug of tea or lie down and read until I fall asleep. Not since college did I look at the telephone with interest and think that it can provide recreation. Now, B calls me every night until I can’t keep my eyes open. As a result, I am late for work almost everyday (not technically late, but I’m not comfortable going to the office when a lot of people are already in), and I’ve lost that precious time before drifting off to sleep when I tick off what I need to do the next day in my head.

It’s not that I’m complaining. I am happy, in general. I just didn’t know getting involved with someone can get you so scatter-brained. A few more weeks of this and I’ll be booted out before our company Christmas party. They say that two people are good together when they can bring out the best in each other. Maybe I’m still adjusting. Maybe I’ll learn to leave my personal life at the doorstep of my building one of these days.

My friends probably don’t have the guts to ask me why I like B. I’ve told them it’s because he’s mature, treats me right, has a cool job, etc. While waiting for the elevator this afternoon after a good run, it suddenly hit me. He just gets me. And as Peter said in The Story of Us (yes, it was the last romantic movie I saw, so forgive the excessive quotation), “There’s no greater feeling in the world than being gotten.” I’ve never met a guy who gets my wry humor, who can probably complete my sentences, and who can follow the logic of my thoughts completely. It's scary because it means he’s probably analyzing me the way I am dissecting his brain, and that means I’ll never be one step ahead.

He told me once that he tried analyzing me during the early part of our acquaintance. He settled on the conclusion that I’m trying to seem bad because I want to be ‘in’, and because I don’t want to be a victim if I showed kindness. “But essentially, you’re really good,” he said. He got me at first analysis.

If I let some more of my walls collapse, I feel I’d lose control of my life. In fact, I had to lie today because I want some space. I told B one of my friends is really out of shape and is in need of company. My friend, in the meantime, is pushing me to go on a date with B. I felt rotten, but being an inseparable gruesome twosome just isn't my style. Surely, I won't be getting anything from Santa this year.

Hello, goodbye

"You're so gutsy!" was my friend's comment when I recounted my last date with B.

She meant it as a good thing, I suppose. But her tone implied that it's also dangerous. Gutsy is a problem when you're naive. Gutsy is a problem when you're a relatively sheltered conservative. Gutsy is a problem when you're a girl.

So I've gotten myself in a tangle. Nothing is what is seemed to be. I expected the worst and for a moment I had a glimmer of hope that, alas, I'm wrong. But... nothing is what it seemed to be. Gutsy is a problem when you think things are simply either A or B. As this guy told Bruce Willis in The Story of Us, "Life is gray." I'm beginning to discover that he's something else... and I don't know whether to laugh with excitement or crawl inside my shell; leave him hanging and pretend all of this didn't happen. I find myself now bobbing in uncharted waters. I want to get out but my adventurous side wants me to stay a little longer, just to see what might happen.

Gutsy is a problem when you assume you can always get out easily. People can get hurt.

When a guy calls just to check up on you, that must mean he likes you, right? When he lets you know what time he got home no matter how long it is after bedtime, that means he kinda cares about you, right? A text at 4am woke me up this morning. It was him, telling me that he just wanted me to know he got home safely. Some of the text was gibberish, proof that he wasn't so sober. This touched me.

But again... Must. Keep. Reminding. Myself. That. Nothing. Is. What. It. Seems. To. Be.

This state... this blasted state...

I am scared.

It frightens me to catch myself smiling involuntarily. I'm mostly disoriented or distracted at work. When I'm not ecstatic, I'm scared.

I was preparing for the worst. But I'm getting the best that I could hope for.

What's the catch? Where's the sign that says, "Show's over. Just kidding!"?

My friend says I'm a cynic. But in order to be happy I need to let myself be vulnerable.

"He's never given me a single compliment!" I complained once, without foresight.

"Uuuy, nagiging vulnerable na sya!" my friend said gleefully.

I've been idiotic before. I guess I don't want to be an idiot again.