There’s Something Wrong With Me

Cover Image

Something I have been noticing as I get older.

I’m not normal.

Let me put it this way. My existence is something of an enigma even to me. To prove the point – I have never liked basketball. Which is, by far, what most manly, semi-athletic males aspire to be at a young age. Didn’t go for the basketball shoes that players endorse, was not excited to wear a favorite team’s jersey, nor follow the games religiously, like a penitent during lent.

I never read any Shakespeare. Not for the lack of trying. But growing up in Paete, Laguna, my literary choices border on the lewd and pornographic to the absolute crazy stories like Flowers for Algernon, or the novels by Clive Barker and Stephen King to name a couple of writers I am really familiar with. I even read The Lord of the Rings on the dusty, darker side of the school library while my friends are busy harassing the girls elsewhere.

A deviant.

Tv program choices, even that makes me think I am  somewhat off kilter. I was watching Sesame Street and The Electric Company in my elementary years. Three’s Company, Mork & Mindy, Saturday Night Playhouse, The Wacky racers, just some of my boob tube favorites. Not the soaps and That’s Entertainment. Even the movies I like are not quite mainstream. Because I seldom trust movie reviews and prefer to make my own view of the movie rather than bash a movie I haven’t seen. Come to think of it, why bash a movie when you can just recommend what you like about a film you just watched?

Never liked AlDub. Outgrown Eat Bulaga. I laugh at people reacting vehemently when they feel nsomeone has besmirched their name or their school, or their company, online. I cry at sad parts of movies. I love old school illustrations and drawings, even woodcuts I place in high regard.  I like to get to an appointment an hour early. I don’t like people waiting on me. At the same time, I am loathe to wait for people who are never on time.

I’m an aberration.

I don’t care for Kanye West’s recorded music, but I love every bit of track Moz Def put out. I can listen continuously to Rammstein, Metallica, Rivermaya, The Dawn and maybe throw in a few Classics and Tom Waits in between playlists. I cover my ears on every Nicki Minaj sound on radio. Rishloo, Enigma and Crystal Method I play on my laid back hours. But I am extremely annoyed with videoke singers singing the same song every chance they get. Gimme some live music, but please don’t make everything Bossa. But I like singing.

Not normal.

Am I too radical to declare I do not care for religion, but still believe in God?


I have this strange fixation with ramen, boiled food and lots of soup. I once enjoyed a plate of Pasta Carbonara lavishly garnished with salty, spicy bagoong, and it got me hooked. And I don’t care much for fine dining. Street food, turo-turo works for me. But when I eat at someplace expensive, I eat everything. I don’t subscribe to that train of thought of leaving something on your plate, lest they think you a patay-gutom. Fuck you, I love food.

I’m one of the few who still insists on using email for professional transactions, social media is just for advertising and online ranting. If there ever was a reason or cause to rant. I don’t put too much value on titles given to you at work. Hell, I’m a Graphic Artist, yet I can clean the office, run errands, make coffee, and while all of these are occurring everyday, I still manage to handle uploading articles to the entertainment website I used to hold, create collaterrals for print, you know, stuff I’m underpaid for.


I even created some video clips for a very special friend for free. What could otherwise have netted me five grand (pesos, friends, in pesos) I gave away for free.

Because I can.

Not normal, I tell you.

I cringe every time someone comments how good my drawings are, asks how much for this and this, and then stands aghast and spews these utterly abhorrent words “Para drawing lang?” (That much for just a drawing?).

I am an alien. Of sorts.

There’s definitely something wrong with me.

Another Dawn For The Dawn

Clockwise from top : JB Drums, Caloy Bass, Jet Vocals, Teddy Guitars

Clockwise from top : JB Drums, Caloy Bass, Jet Vocals, Teddy Guitars

I first saw The Dawn on Channel 4, Tina Monson-Palma hosted Concert at The Park, and was just sinking into a new wave of music that is not Menudo or Air Supply. On stage was a strange quartet, with marginal makeup and wild hairdos.

The Dawn played Enveloped Ideas as I stood fixed in front of the TV trying to turn the volume a bit more, whispering to the Radiowealth not to bust down at that exact time.

After that it was an affair that went on and on. Like a girl turning up every now and then in my life, The Dawn never really went away. When Teddy was murdered on some dark alley, we all mourned and moved on.

Several axe wielders filled Teddy’s shoes in short bursts. Atsushi did some wild times with the boys. But Francis filled the void. Francis Reyes never really filled Teddy’s shoes. He wore his own. Took the music a bit further. Made the journey as enjoyable as we all expected it to be.

From Left: JB, Jet, Francis, Buddy

From Left: JB, Jet, Francis, Buddy

Even the songwriting and the technical stuff that went with the studio recording was better, thicker, has more oomph.

And Francis has  left the building.

Onstage: Buddy, Jet, JB, Kenneth

Onstage: Buddy, Jet, JB, Kenneth

We all choose a different path at some point in our lives. Francis chose his own.

Kenneth Ilagan, now plays with the band. Listening from the CD the guys brought home to the studio ( ours, not theirs) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .The Dawn still has it!  Sound The Alarm is a must.

Looks like we are in for another musical trip with Kenneth adding another flavor to the concoction that is The Dawn.

Kenneth The Next

Kenneth The Next

Matibay ang The Dawn.