All thanks to the game: An Azkal afterthought.

The Philippines settled for a scoreless draw against Palestine March 23, putting them in a dangerous albeit dramatic situation of a no-more-tomorrow challenge to beat Bangladesh in the next 2 days.

At that time, the National team has already survived 2 devastating earth quakes, and weathered a stressful game that took Phil Younghusband, their prized striker, away from them in the most important playoffs of their lives yet. A day before the match, veteran Yanti Barsales was battered down, goalkeeper Neil Etheridge was having digestive issues, and Rob Gier had flown out of Rangoon into Britain to his pregnant's wife aid. Not only did they have to win, they have to win over a team fresh from a rout victory over Myanmar- a squad they were only able to draw 1-1 at the start of the group round. The pressure was on and the circumstances were not helping.

All of this the nation is only seeing through Twitter updates from the team and the media contingent who were allowed in to Burma. The Azkals had to almost literally rely on just themselves to go through the final hurdle.

**

The Bengal Tigers were in it to win it. They matched the Azkals in attempts in the first half, some proved to be quite a scare but the Fulham reserve stayed formidable in front of the net; each save a defeaning 'NO!' for the Bangladesh offense. Four days before that, Neil Etheridge posted on his facebook page he was "still hurting" for conceding the last-minute goal from Myanmar that robbed them of 3 win points, that could've given them a much-needed advantage over the other 3 teams in their group.

At the Aung San Stadium, though, Etheridge looked determined to not make the same mistake again.

For 90 minutes, he didn't. He kept a pristine sheet, while his team mates tear the pitch apart for a 3-nil trashing en route to history. From bottom 8 to top 8 of the 2012 AFC Challenge Cup.

The Azkals kept going to James Younghusband in the first half. Even Etheridge was trying to spare them the work by kicking the ball from the goal all the way to front yard to James. Playing without Phil, James has become their golden boy. The Chelsea-bred striker was the clear choice, but when newbie Angel Guirado saw an opening, it was for Ian Araneta to hit home.

Sgt. Araneta, the Azkal veteran, broke his 11-game silence with a 1st goal loud enough for the Philippine Twitter land to hear. In the game's 41st minute - within those seconds, Filipino sport fans converted their loud cheers into tweets that brought a virtual stadium down.

Ian's shot wasn't textbook perfect. But for what it meant to the All-Filipino Air Force hitman, who have been with the Azkals since day 1, and to the million supporters who were dying to take over the driver's seat in a do-or-die duel, it was no more than we could ever ask for. To Ian Araneta be the glory.

Their confidence up, and the odds in their favor, the Azkals were on a roll. Two minutes after the 1st goal, James had his eyes on Ian, who was poised for a back-to-back. But the Bengal goalie wouldn't allow an embarrassment; met Ian and stopped a meltdown.

Unfortunately for them, Angel Aldeguer-Guirado was just heating up and he wasn't looking to settle for a 1-0. Araneta returned the favor and fed Guirado the ball, who then - with all his might - headed it like a dagger straight into the net and into the Bangladesh heart. The two defenders who joined the goalkeeper at the post were caught flat-footed and stunned by the lightning that jolted an entire nation.

35 minutes to go, the Philippines had fashioned a 2-point cushion, and had dominated the Twitter trending topic list. Angel Guirado on an upper spot, Ian Araneta below him, and - this not confirmed to be Azkal related but I'm pretty sure - "Great Header" just spots down.

The future was looking ultra bright. By this time, Twitter has been flooded with different versions of Guirado-adoring tweets, and right then and there, the Philippines has found its new Angel.

And it wasn't looking to stop soon. At the 63rd minute, Guirado released a header, his eyes on Yanti, which, despite a slightly aching body, he translated into a bicycle kick that could've been monumental if it wasn't for an offside infringement. Still, the stadium has become an Azkal land, and they were giants stomping on Bangladesh, who were staring to look little.

Around the 70th minute, the Azkal offense found James Younghusband all alone upfront, the Bengali goalie all his to attack. James looked like he hesitated and ended up fumbling the ball over to Anton del Rosario at the side, but by then the Bengal defense was full-force and the Kaya defender had no other choice but to just wing an unproductive shot.

The clock ticking away; all hopes fading for Bangladesh, their dreams barely breathing which at the 80th minute, Guirado ruthlessly killed with a roller. Philippines: 3-0.

Every fan "watching" the game through Twitter was ready to hug their computers, or the person next to them. It was one of those moment I just wanted to stand up, sing the National Anthem, and run around with the flag crying.

The minute I saw the PFF's tweet "FULLTIME," I was ready to die, and so were everybody who had it in their hearts to see the Azkals succeed.

In that extraordinary moment, though separated by miles, and shut off from communication, the country has never been more one.

And now we are onto the World Cup Qualifiers, an aspiration that we wouldn't even have thought to consider. As hard and ambitious it may be, now the country has actual hope to reach such immense international platform, that hope actually justified.

The World Cup is actually a possibility, and we all have reasons to believe again, all thanks to the game.

Paper Heart

I've never gotten to celebrate Valentine's day. Never had a date, never had presents, never had letters. Through the years, it's gotten so much easier to see through the next box in the calendar. But it never felt like I was missing something, it always just seemed like I was saving it for something better.

Last week, in front of the whole family, my mom dressed me down for being single. One by one, each one in the family gave their complimentary "You should really get a boyfriend now" litany. They said I was old enough. They said it was time.

Like love has a "time." You can be 10 years old and meet the love of your life at a playground, or 95 at your deathbed. You don't age and suddenly reach a stage where you are biologically required to fall in love. There's no telling when your heart needs it - when it needs it, it will have it. You don't go off running to fall into someone's trap; you just stand there, and you fall.

And the heart serves alternative functions meanwhile. You learn to love food, you learn to breathe to see the next Harry Potter film, you fall in love with the boy in your book, or the voice behind a favorite song, or an everyday routine at work, or a perfect picture of people you love. You learn to do all things in the meantime, as there is no harm in occupying all the space in your heart, because when the right person comes by, the heart is gonna know, and it's gonna give way.

That's why I've never understood the pressure of getting a boyfriend. You don't just wake up one day and decide to "get" a boy. People make it sound like a purchase. It's an emotional investment and I like quality, something my fortune's worth. Because if I'm really gonna spend, I'm really gonna spend. What is so wrong in making sure I get my fair end of the bargain.

I like being single, but I'm guessing it must feel a whole lot of nicer to find someone you can make a Beatles song reference to. Someone who you can put on speed dial. Someone who just proves to you the butterflies are real. I'd like to fall someday. And I even welcome the idea of one day maybe have my heart broken, and get my fair share of crashburn, cry-all-night, break up torture - I'm not scared of the pain, in the end, we all get hurt anyway. But if I cry, I want it to have been for something real, something totally monumental I wouldn't have minded losing it because having it once is already a gift in itself. If I love, and lose, I want it to have been a truthful experience. Not because I just wanted a boyfriend.

Relationships are so transitory nowadays. But I believe that when something is brewed just right, it'll end up just right. And that is something I am perfectly fine to be waiting - no matter how long - for.

Compared to finding the perfect piece of a half rigged heart that intricately fit the other half of yours, what is a bit of time?

Shuffle

I just wanna check if I'm able to keep my ipod "recognizable."

1. Letter Song - Tyler Hilton
2. Move Along - All American Rejects
3. Deeper Well - Nada Surf
4. Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off - Panic! At the Disco.
5. Wordplay - Jason Mraz
6. Christmas Lights - Daphne loves Derby
7. Gravity - Sara Bareilles
8. Must get out - Maroon 5
9. The good kind - The Wreckers
10. Never knowing how or why - The Boxer Rebellion

Can I be honest? I can't place #3. It's a Nada Surf, I'm ashamed of me.

Crushes

They're definitely not just for kids. They're for everyone; you can never be too old to have a crush. That flutter in the stomach for a gesture that has absolutely no meaning but one that consumes your entire brain trying to analyze? That's a whole sleep lost we deserve to suffer from.

Even the ridiculous ones. Even the one I had on Aidan Grimshaw where I traveled to London just to chance upon maybe meeting him strutting along Oxford Circus. Of course he wasn't the reason why I went there, but he was the first thing that came to mind when I found out I will.

Or if it's as near a person as Chester Taylor when I was a freshman in UST, where I even preserved his number (which I got from a reliable source I tell ya) on my phone thinking maybe someday, I'll have the guts to use it.

Or if it's the real crushes you get as with DJ Caro, my P.E mate in Basketball whom I went nuts for just by the sight of.

Yes I'm name dropping, because I'm brave. Because I don't think it's something to be ashamed of. Whether they're unrequited or just totally improbable - like my undying love for James Lafferty (yes I still think I have a shot with Aidan) or my newly-developed infatuation for Andrew Garfield, who, I might say, is up on the top of my list to be my next wallpaper.

Only other guys who have made it there on my virtual wall were Kobe Bryant, Cristiano Ronaldo and Lee Dewyze. But Spiderman is just going to have to hang in there a little while longer because Neil Etheridge is definitely my favorite next pin-up boy.

Silly things like these, they divert thoughts of work to some kind of a storage folder while you bliss in 10 wonderful minutes of just spacing off and thinking about your wedding. Of course it's so much better when your work has to do with thinking about these crushes. And getting through to those crushes; incidents that are just most deserving of a screengrab, and tantamount to a blog post. Like this one.



I'm writing this because I haven't eaten a thing since last night but for the first time in a very long time, I don't care. My stomach is full of butterflies.

Also I'm writing this because days ago, a boy's name came up in some conversations, and I can't believe up until that time, I have not lay a thought on him.

All because I'm busy with the awesomeness of getting to watch Jesse Williams every Thursday night, or staying up on Twitter all day, looking out for Etheridge's next tweet. Which, in turn, gives me a feeling so much nicer than any other feeling being in love with somebody who's too full of himself to give a crap ever gave me.

I'm writing this because I have finally come into the conclusion that there are so many other guys out there, and that he falls way desperately out of that league. Or, as I'm realizing, any other league.

So I think when I say, this time, that I have finally moved on, people ought to believe me.

I have my wallpaper, and my heart devoid of his name, to show for it.

All hail 2011

Finally, misery year is over and I can finally say 'To hell with you 2010, I beat your ass.'

By some streak of luck, I managed to get out of that hell year alive, and well, kicking. There are some things I learned that I'm either gonna leave behind or take away with me. The leave-behinds are well out and done, and I eventually just tired out of talking about them (as I'm sure those who'd been hearing it did as well) so I want to move on to the ones I'll carry over to the next year.

First, the light one, but never to be underestimated: The power of Music. They say the words which no other person can, and fill some terribly empty space where no other can even go. Bands to thank this year: Wakey! Wakey! and Keane. "I know you wanna stay in bed, but there's light outside." Of course this year, I finally got on riding with the Beatle (band) wagon, and let's just say that without "Hey Jude" I've probably jumped into the MRT rail and be dead by now. (I'm dead serious.) So this year, my iPod is some prized (or is it priced, i never really mastered the difference) possession.

Second, also light, but also very powerful: My Books. Lee Fiora, Miles Halter, Esther Greenwood and all of them fictional characters who served as my Loony Ward and actually managed to make me feel I was not crazy. Not even close. You abandon these books sometimes and yet when it comes to times of crisis, you come running back to those shelves, desperate for some company. And company, I got. However sad and loner-ish that sounds, I'm proud to say I got myself new best friends this year, residing and preserved forever in the pages that once came alive and gave me home.

Next, I think I'm probably going to be more social this year. Granted the process of getting there would be very awkward and painful but I'm determined to live that "version" of a full life. It won't mean I'll be partying, relax you guyz. I just mean maybe it's time to choose dinner dates or coffee dates over FRIENDS marathon from time to time (note: 'from time to time'. You can never totally leave FRIENDS behind.) Working at a large company for almost two months now has highlighted the severity of my being an exclusive freak; exclusive freak - a disorder by which a person feels the critical need to keep things she holds special all to herself and to the ones close to her. To put it simply: when it comes to people horizon, I very much need to broaden it.

Next next, a very light one I probably won't take seriously thus would never take effect: Watch my diet. I'm thin, I am, but my tummy has grown so big it's gotten so out of control and I've thrown out a lot of my favorite clothes because they don't fit me anymore. In the past week, I've received three gifts from three special people which I gave back/exchanged because there was no way I would be seen wearing a skimpy shirt looking like a knocked up bimbo. That's how bad it is.

Next next next, life is really just so freaking funny sometimes. Five months ago, I was in total, utter depression, so terminal I had to write "positive" things in a notebook just so I'd have something to read the next morning or else I'll lose it. And then something happened, and I'm writing this now with a heart lightest than I've ever had it, and there's not even a boy involved, just life, and the parts of it I was given.

Next next next next, maybe this year I can include love (yes the cheesy stuff) in my dreams, too. For so long it has been just about work and career, now that I've found peace, as my boss puts is, "at home", maybe now there's a place for lurve (and other drugs.)

Last, I need to work on my faith.

Last last, I have now taken it upon myself to make my family work, in the best way it ever did. Among all my other goals, that's probably on the top, but one I've been carelessly neglecting. Maybe 2011 will finally be the difference.

2011, you got my ass? I hope you do, and save it, if ever, too.

Five fictional characters I can identify with

1. Peyton Sawyer (One Tree Hill)

Her passion. Her head that almost completely fills up with dark thoughts; some twisty stuff that gets you mad. Yet in all of it, she shines through with art, with love and with friends. I wish I can be half the person she is; maybe nobody is cos she’s freaking fictional. But her depression, her sadness, and the way she feels that life is a big joke sometimes - - that’s me, and I’m only starting to learn how to get through with the same headstrong passion she battled her fears with. How she braved to change the world by putting up her own record label, by telling the man she loves that she freaking loves him. I’m trying to be as successful with my fight. I’ll do it with her words and music. God I love her.

2. Ted Mosby (How I met your Mother)

Hopeful and trusting. His faith in destiny, and in the good of people that turns out to be a backstab sometimes. His unwavering belief that someone here is meant for him, and that he will find her no matter what. That he doesn’t have to play by the rules and tricks of dating because when two people fit, they just do. I love that.

3. Lee Fiora (Prep)

Realistically, she’s the one I can relate to best, but she’s also the one I wanna get away from. Truth hurts sometimes. She’s growing up tormented by her own imperfections, feeling like the world is always out to get her, and there’s just nobody there to tell her otherwise. This sinking feeling of being alone all the time, the painful, glaring reality that she isn’t special and she’s never going to be. But yet she tries, and tries to convince herself she doesn’t need to change because that would just be another failure on her end. I am Lee Fiora, but I’m trying not to be.

4. Julie Baker (Flipped)

When I fall in love, I really fall in love. I put the boy on the pedestal, I look at him like I’m wearing star-filled glasses that everyday with him in it becomes sunshine delight. Otherwise what’s the point of being in love? It goes for other things too, she falls in love with a Sycamore Tree, she falls in love with chickens and eggs, and they become something else - something deeply special. That’s love, true love.

5. Liz Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)

I actually fell asleep on the movie. And I share the sentiment with a lot of people that Liz doesn’t know how to count her blessings. That she was way in over head to think the doors shut off on her face when actually, it was her who walked away. But I relate to her because when you lose yourself, it’s madness, and a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to find it. She was brave enough to leave her whole life in search of the perhaps, and honestly, I was just too jealous I wouldn’t ever have the guts to do what she did. I want to, but I can’t. Good for her.

Passion

Days ago, I was tweeted by one of my boss, asking me to sign in to this website and vote for her favorite Korean singers/bands. Seeing that it was my boss, I was kind of "under orders" to, but seeing that it takes just about 3 seconds to do so, I didn't really mind. More importantly, I didn't mind because if I were to ask people sign for an online "Bring Leyton back in OTH" petition, I would really appreciate it if not only would they be okay in doing it, that they wouldn't mind as well.

There's a mirror in people that makes it probable for everyone to respect the other. For me, that's passion. I love everyone who has it and I loathe anyone that doesn't. That's why even if one of my best friends constantly blab about cars and robots all the freaking time, and one of them talks about India and I pretend to keep interest, they have my respect. Because in the pool of a million blah people, sadly some of them resides near my spectrum, a buzz of passion is most welcome.

I don't care if your ultimate goal is to decode the world's lengthiest CMS text, or if you go 24 hours without shutting up about Anarchy in the world, and even if you dedicate your whole life to collecting Edward Cullen memento, I would respect you, because there's nothing sadder in this life than to live it without so much an ounce of passion.

I grew up being passionate about certain things at certain times, some were short-lived, some have stayed with me from kindergarten to now, some I cringe about, some I'm proud of, but if I die, and if someone were to write my Obituary, he will have a lot of material because 0f all the things I didn't have, I had passion.

So if you talk to me and rave about the one thing I hate but sound passionate about it, I will guarantee you I will listen. I'd probably be shouting "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP" in my mind, but you'd be able to keep a record that will last for as long as you hold the heat. And as long as you remain the person whose eyes light up, and whose heartbeat increase dangerously faster by the mention of that one thing you hold ever so dearly, you remain the person whose life mattered.

It explains my addiction for Singing Contests. Everytime there's a soundbite of someone saying how they waited their whole life to be given the chance to do what they absolutely wanted to do, and how their world would fall apart if they come short, I relate too much that I could feel myself cry. I get the passion they dreamt their dreams with, and for that, I can identify. Plus, I love music. But still, I like America's Next Top Model for the same thing even if I absolutely have no inkling towards modelling. I love it because it says a lot about how this life is too short not to risk breaking your heart for that ultimate chance to make it complete.

I have a cousin who draw like she was born just to draw. Unfortunately, no matter how she tried to, her mom could only send her to an IT school. This is a girl who didn't have the choice to follow her heart even if the directions were blazing, but she keeps a drawing pad and would take out her pencils everytime she sees anything that was worthy of drawing. And she keeps her dreams alive just by keeping that pad, so even if she becomes an IT person and hate the world of it, she will forever keep that spark.

Months ago when I was looking for a job, everyone kept telling me to work somewhere else, some place where there's money, some place where I'm absolutely sure to excel in, and I kept explaining myself along the lines of "No I'm chasing my dream." Not everyone got it, most of them just found it laughable, some blamed me for being picky, some said I was too idealistic. It was a hard time, the hardest time actually, but I kept going because those people were the kind of people who didn't know one thing about having passion, about finding what you love doing, and wading through hell just to be able to do it. I wasn't about to start listening to them, because in my world, they don't exist.

I'm blogging this because I've gotten a lot of crap and watched people take crap from people for being passionate about something, and I watched people stop being so engrossed because they wanted to fit in. They wanted it most not to stick out in an otherwise flat, boring, mediocre world of these people who spend their waking mornings having no kind of passion at all. Like it was a duty to love something, like it was such a crime to commit yourself to something that bad it makes you crazy sometimes.

I've had dozen of conversations consisting of the most awkward silences ever because the other end offered nothing but the most stupid, dumbest responses ever uttered in mankind.

I mean come one, do you even fucking care about something?

Please care. About anything, about anyone. And when you do, make sure you're its biggest fan, because even if you're not, the fact that you are trying to makes you matter. It means you count. It makes you visible, it makes your mark.

It makes your Obituary colorful and so brilliant your mourners would be confused whether to laugh or cry. And it would be the best funeral ever.

Make your death count. Make this lifetime be worth something.