JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

Contracting Love, an interview with the makers of the indie movie Endo (opening on Wednesday), in Emotional Weather Report, today in the Star.  I recommend you read the print version where the Qs and As are clearly indicated. Online it sounds like I’m talking to myself. Which may have been the case.

It’s a few weeks after the Christmas season and a few weeks before Valentine’s day. This means there are more lonely, depressed, suicidal people out there than there are the rest of the year. Think about it. There’s nothing like being surrounded by gleeful revellers and love-stoned couples to make one feel like he’s fallen into a black hole.

Crisis line in Emotional Weather Report, today in the Star.

My last interview with singer-songwriter Ely Buendia was in 1994. I figured that two bands, one coronary, and a digital revolution later, it was time for an update

Jessica: The Julie Taymor movie Across The Universe features the songs of The Beatles. How would you feel about a movie musical featuring the songs of the Eraserheads?

Ely: They should call it Across the University Avenue.

Bald Hairdressers and The Afterlife of Porkchops, in Emotional Weather Report, today in the Star.

What was the major or most constant cause of your unhappiness in 2007?
(a) I loathe myself with a passion and wish I were someone else.
(b) I hate my job/I am not at all satisfied with the way my career is going.
(c) Money is always a problem.
(d) I worry about my health and have stress-related health issues.
(e) I don’t like the way I look, and when I run into exes or old classmates my first instinct is to hide.
(f) My relationship bores the hell out of me./ Every time I look at his or her face I want to smash my fist into it.
(g) I know there is something else I should be doing, but I’m afraid to take the risk.
(h) I know I’m meant for other things, but I don’t know exactly what they are.
(i) I can’t sleep and I am constantly anxious.
(j) I think the cosmos is out to get me.
(k) None of the above: Write your answer here.

What was the best thing about your 2007? You can pick more than one letter.
(a) Every aspect of my life worked. My career has taken off in a major way. I am making tons of money. I look better than I ever have. My romantic life is the stuff of legend. Everyone adores me. I am in perfect health. Publishers have approached me about writing a guide to living, and Oprah’s people want me on the show. I’m very active in humanitarian and environmental causes, and I am in touch with Al, Leonardo, and Bono. Wha–what are you doing? You’re crazy! Don’t shoot! Call the guards! Nooooooo. . .
(b) I hit most of my career targets/I love my job.
(c) I make enough/more than enough money so I don’t have to worry about it.
(d) I’m in excellent health.
(e) I look good and radiate happiness; when I run into my exes they feel like killing themselves.
(f) My relationship is going so well I’m inclined to think this is The One.
(g) I have finished or am finishing the work for which I will be remembered.
(h) I have wonderful friends who love me no matter how insane I get.
(i) I am completely at peace with myself.
(j) None of the above: Write your own answer here.

1. How was your year?
(a) Spectacular! Best year of my life.
(b) I had a good year, despite a few rough patches which I  got over quickly enough.
(c) This year the good times and the bad times cancelled each other out, so I guess I break even.
(d) It had its moments, but in general it was blah/miserable.
(e) 2007 was so horrible, I’m thinking of faking my own death, moving to another place, and starting over under a new identity.

Lashing rain and howling wind, my favorite weather. As long as I’m snug indoors and not desperately flagging taxis on the side of the road with my shoes soaked while gusts tear the umbrella out of my hand.

I was talking to Mike, who’s helping to set up a new restaurant, when a brilliant idea whacked me upside the head: Bottomless drinks and topless waiters. At the mall. True, this would not be fair to the guys, but I’m sure they’ll think of something.

Mike reports that Roger Federer lost to David Nalbandian at the Madrid Masters—I haven’t been following the news, I tend to tune out when the slams are over. The Fed is vulnerable to clay court grinders who speak Spanish: Nalbandian, Cañas, Nadal. There are super-slow motion videos of The Fed on Youtube hitting mostly forehands. You see how so much stuff happens in a second, there’s simply no time for conscious planning. As the strings make contact with the ball—or is it right after?—he twists his wrist. Which imparts the ball with extra zing, and may also account for tendency to shank the ball.

Do you play tennis? Mike’s looking for opponents. He just realized that his trainer has been letting him win, what a bummer. First we’ll have the Spinstermike Vs Spookbob match, then we’ll schedule your matches. Hey, let’s have a tournament! You don’t have to be particularly good, but you will have to endure cruel and relentless heckling from the spectators. Players who burst into tears, have tantrums, or get pikon automatically lose the point; however, bonus points will be awarded for creative insults and curses.

Update: Sign up for the First Annual Z Cup! Winner gets. . .absolutely nothing! Well maybe a stuffed toy Zebra and all the chicken she or he can eat at JT’s Manukan. I will present the trophy as patron and more importantly, as someone three degrees of separation from Roger Federer. How it happened: I used to hang out with Ettore, who used to get beaten at tennis by Diana, who is Roger’s sister. Ha, my cheap thrills.

The final visit to Bienvenido Santos, writer. With guest appearances by Ruth Roa, Tina Cuyugan, Ambeth Ocampo, RayVi Sunico, Danton Remoto, the fabulous Gilda Cordero-Fernando, and the cruddiest car that ever crawled the streets of Manila. Emotional Weather Report, today in The Philippine Star.

So I decided that, in line with my recent epiphany, on this trip I would be the opposite of me. I made no plans whatsoever. I didn’t even know what time my flight was until the night before, and I didn’t get my itinerary until I arrived at the airport. I did no research on Seoul, not even the weather forecast; I just packed enough cool-weather clothes for three days. True, I asked a couple of people what there is to do in Seoul. Ricky said, “They have a good Louis Vuitton store”, and Grace said, “Look up Daniel Henney, he’s hot.” Which would really make my trip if (a) I actually shopped LVMH and (b) I knew who Daniel Henney was. I did not pack until a few hours before the trip–usually I pack over a two-week period, in stealth, lest my cats attack my luggage with claws and urine. I didn’t even call the taxi company 12 hours ahead to order a cab to the airport. In short, I took the “Bahala na” approach, which is completely antithetical to my nature. I like to prepare a scenario in advance. Way in advance. Like an invasion. With secondary and tertiary options.

 To my complete shock everything turned out fine and now my world-view is off-kilter. My cats tried emotional blackmail, but gave up after an hour. I found a taxi in time, got to the airport without aggravation, and despite getting to the airport only two hours before my flight (Three is my usual minimum), I got through the queues with enough time to have a snack at the lounge and swipe two issues of The Economist.

We landed in Incheon, took the one-hour airport bus to Seoul, and now I’m in my room at the Hotel Ibis watching Letterman. Nothing untoward happened despite the total absence of best-laid plans. Big deal, you say, so you didn’t do the control freak stuff, that’s how I’ve always lived. How can I explain just how weird and out of character this is for me? I didn’t even bring my own shampoo and conditioner. On my planet that’s what passes for Buddhist-like resignation.

My account of STPWW in Emotional Weather Report, today in the Star.

Afterwards we scour the mall for cross-training shoes for Ricky, who has just enrolled at a gym. Another friend, Juan, joins us, and it’s like shopping with The Furies:

CARLO: When I buy a pair of shoes, I compute how often I have to wear them so the price comes to five pesos a day. Then they’re worth it.
JUAN: Where do you put all the stuff you buy? How much closet space do you have? This is just conspicuous consumption.
JESSICA: Here’s a revolutionary idea: Wear something to the gym that you already own.
RICKY: Shut up! I’ll buy the shoes when I’m alone!

What’s happened since then: The cosmos’s sense of humor positively rollicking. Still penniless, but going to Seoul, Korea this afternoon on assignment. Back Monday. Will blog and try to sample live baby octopus. If you’re in Seoul, buy me a drink.

I have this theory that I’m testing, and I need more evidence to back it up. Two questions:

Do you often cry in real life? (Iyakin ka ba? What’s your definition of a crybaby?)

Do you cry at the movies? Not just when the hero dies or proposes, but even at stuff that’s not supposed to be tear-inducing.

Please post your answers in Comments. At the end of the survey we’ll raffle off a copy of Twisted Flicks among the commenters.

If you have trouble registering on this site, please email your details to emotionalweatherreport@gmail.com.

Justin Erik Halldor Smith asks, Is depression a medical condition?

I was 10 or 11 when I first learned the word “depressed” from a Woody Allen movie, and I quickly grasped its usefulness. “I don’t want to go out, I’m depressed” just sounded more dramatic than “I don’t feel like it” or “Tinatamad ako”.  Am I a true depressive? To say so would be disrespectful to the people with the real problem. I have these black moods, but I know that they will pass eventually, I just have to ride them out. But I see how it can get very bad, and pass beyond your control, and then you’re in the abyss. My friends tell me depression is chemical, and often you have no choice but to medicate. But what if depression is an inextricable part of your character, one of the things that make you you? Medication makes it easier for other people to deal with you, but is it still you?