Paul's posts with tag: paul catiang
If yesterday's any indication of the coming year, I'm in for a wild ride to 33. At which point I can be crucified. Thanks to the well-wishers by category here: (Pasensiya na sa obscure references.)By text:- Ate Marcy, one of my cousins. She'll probably not read this unless she starts getting online more often.
- Jovan, who technically greeted first at 12:03 AM.
- Karlos "Spooky" de Mesa, of Driver Down and Biscochong Halimaw, who will be playing this Saturday.
- "Zig Pogi" (it says that on my phone at his insistence).
- Marco Harder!
- Jac Lim, whom I still owe cab fare and a glomp back. >.>
- My blockmate Elena Bautista.
- Selena and Kathy, who texted virtually at the same time. "Magkasama kayo, no?" I asked, and apparently they weren't together. Dun-dun-dun!
- Mika Fabella, my Swanling. ;)
- Tita Marian, Rej's mom.
- Eileen Ang, who should get back to blogging.
- My blockmate Alex Villafania, who's probably interviewed some of you guys for his Inquirer tech and hobby articles.
- Lianne, whom I met only once (courtesy of Mika) and was nice enough to send a greeting.
- Magnolia, whom I miss.
- Annwen, her husband Apa, and their newborn son, Diego.
- Reitch, who was so harassed the whole day, but still managed to text at 11:00 PM. Nakatulog ka na ba ng maayos?
By Multiply:- Tricia Yruma-Mori, all the way from Japan. Hope you're enjoying your vacation, dear.
- Hanah, who will, one way or another, come here to party when she visits from the Land of Offshore Bank Accounts and Shady Deals.
- Marco, who covered two of the many bases.
- Nick, who will hopefully be feeling better by this weekend.
- Franny, fresh from The Night Monkeys launch.
- Jimple. If the Bikol Region ever instituted a Poet Laureate, he'd be it.
- Raya Martin, the more famous of the Martin brothers. Labyu Mayo!
- Ina Cosio, whom I haven't seen in ages.
- Jason Caballa, musician and new Multiply friend.
- Luna and her dedicated blog post. Now I have to live up to being 'fabulous'.
- Joon Guillen.
- Paolo Manalo, via PM. Thanks again!
- Aldus, with his flattering tribute on the Manox Multiply site.
- Az, who also shares this birthday with me, Princess Diana, Pamela Anderson Lee, and Canada. Labo!
- Cos Colluela and his snarkiness.
- Rom, whom I hope has the butterfly sheets she was looking for.
- Grace, who can always get kittens from us if she misses being owned by them.
By Facebook:- Dat, who also sent an e-card.
- Karlos de Mesa, who's new to Facebook and this whole online community thing!
- Jovan and Ava, who sent Peanuts greetings. Did you guys know my parents got together over Charlie Schultz?
- Emma Therese Maglaque, from the bowels of law school. (Tama ba?)
- Lia Bulaong, blockmate. Oo, putangina. Matanda na ako. Pweh.
- Jia Mendoza, Manox fan since 2003!
- Iana the gymnast. We should play Twister again!
- Rocky, who also gave me a boot.
- Janette Toral, blogger, consultant, Facebook contact.
- Osama bin-Alec, as he will be called once he flies to Abu Dhabi, the Land of Cute Kittens.
- Fellow half-Indian Klassy, who instinctively remembers my birthday for some reason.
- Macy. We'll be with you in spirit this Saturday. We'll take goood care of Aids.
- Ralph de Ocampo, from wherever in the world he may be.
- Edsel, of the early-morning party shift. And Musings of a Cigarette-smoking Man.
- And Fizz, Ava's friend from Maryknoll (hahaha!).
By phonecall:- Joy Reyes of Floating-Point Architecture fame.
- Lizelle, Mylee's sister, whom I hope arrived safely in L.A.
- Ian Roxas, first thing in the morning.
- My dad, Paul Kurrien, Sr. All the way from Bangalore, where he took a break from overseeing sewer repair in his church to call me. No, he's not a preacher-man. There's no Carly Simon song here. Move along now.
- Marc Laureano of the impeccable timing, calling right after my yoga class from New Zealand.
- Jon Sideño, Binondo toughie, Captain of the Defiant, and plyer of booze.
- Lorie, who should be back in Singapore by now.
By Yahoo! Messenger:- Shey. Who will sleep over.
- Joon Guillen. In French.
- Ron. Hey there, sexy back.
- Macy, with her huge-ass greeting (size 32 font!).
- Pauline Anne Escalante, a friend and batchmate from KontraGaPi.
- Karen Simbulan, Attorney-at-Law. Very busy!
- Marion Santos and her drive-by greeting.
- Jaunjie, ah este, Virgilind Villanueva-Pallarca, blockmate, old friend, and now, neighbor.
- Joelle Florence Patrice Jacinto. Kailangan buo.
- Mikah, who was thoughtful and sadistic enough to call me "Junjun".
- Chiqui, who, like most people, called me the Ancient Indian.
- Gigi of Via Astris, who thinks Paolo may not be able to comply with the no-shoes rule.
- Hanah. Planstado na ba ang uniform for tomorrow?
- Abbey, who doesn't look her age at all.
- Zig, covering more than one base.
- Alec. Thanks for finding the time in the middle of your turnover.
- Carl. Ah este, si Nick pala.
- Paraluman Cruz, also relaying greetings from Popo. Bastos pa rin ba?
- Charlene Valdez, Attorney-at-Law. Shite, so many lawyer friends.
- Adam, while probably surrounded by his seven balikbayan boxes.
- Hectooor! (I've never cracked that joke. Had to do it once.)
- Ryllah, who greeted before she flew for Singapore. Hope you had a safe flight!
By gift:- My housemates Dante, Rej, and Oneal, who got me a heavy cast-iron pan that will NEVER (JAMAIS! NUNCA!) be washed with detergent. Only hot water and a brush. I have christened it The Hittite.
Since Ron's going to spend the night here tonight, I decided to ready the extra-strong harness and the studded paddles he likes so much. I also made sure to give my room a good cleaning, since we're going to get dirty later on.Seriously, though. :-PRon's allergic to cat hair, and the felines have been spending a lot of time in my room lately. I figured anaphylactic shock wouldn't really work for Ron. Bleh, taking mind out of gutter now.Better to put it on the shelf, with all the books there. Mine, borrowed, given, forgotten at the house, read, unread, what have you. And I'm too lazy to use Shelfari or LibraryThing as yet. Here, on top of my White Wolf gaming books, are my Shakespeare, The Shakespeare Book of Lists which the housemates gave me for Christmas, Nigella Lawson's cookbook Forever Summer (the show of which I've seen several times over), Reitch's Austen compilation, and Jon's Into the Wild.To the left is a copy of The Last Tycoon, from one of my English professors, who gave it to me because I was (and am) such a Fitzgerald fan; The Faber Book of Modern Verse, which Aldus has had since our college days; the two Bridget Jones novels, which I bought when I had that hankering for Jane Austen; Jon's Kitchen Confidential, V for Vendetta from my lovely mother; Reitch's Books of Magic: Summonings; a TPB I got at National Cubao because it was cheap; and Tobie's copy of Adventure!. The stack on the right has Eats, Shoots & Leaves, Oneal's pasalubong from Vegas; The Alchemist (overrated? haven't read it yet), The Screwtape Letters, and The English Patient, all from my mom; Reitch's The Satanic Verses, which I bought a couple of years ago and still need to pay for; my fiction instructor's Vintage Book of Contemporary American Short Stories; Czar's novel, Warpath; Simulacra & Simulation, which Oneal got Rej during the heyday of The Matrix; Maryann's Orlando, and a copy of Myth and Meaning which I think I found lying around the house somewhere; and there's The Sibley Guide which the housemates got as a birthday present in 2006. In the middle is the Tan twins' yoga book by Tara Fraser. Then there's the e.e. cummings compilation I got last week; my copy of Northanger Abbey; Mayo's The Portable Jack Kerouac; Baudolino, again from my mom; The Crack-up, which Aldus gave me (I'm a Fitzgerald fan to the point that people give me copies of his books :D); my fiction professor's Art Objects; a Norton Anthology I dug up at one of the Book Sales here; Vocalese by Aldus Santos (!); and Rant, a birthday gift from Burt. And down below: Lost in a Good Book, a Jasper Fforde novel I found last week, part of a series my friends Lorie and Mylee love and I haven't begun (sorry guys!); the Grammar and Style Guide I use for my English training, and was published by the same guys who produced the World Book Encyclopedia; The Chicago Manual of Style, also from my mother who loves me that much; The Politically Incorrect Guide (PIG) to English and American Literature, which Rej got in California after the Rose Parade; and on the left, the Roseros' copy of 70 Favorite Stories for Young Readers, which I also had growing up. And that violet bundle in between books? Dante's Tarot cards (which I use), wrapped in Tita Ruby's scarf.Of course, this is just the abridged, enumerative version. Maraming kuwento bawat libro diyan.
I usually dream in the early morning for some reason, and today marks the visit of one of my strange REM-induced imaginings. I was on EDSA and right before Ortigas, maybe in front of Poveda, where the buses rattle on by on their plumes of smoke. I wasn't looking at them, though, but up at the sky, which--it occurs to me now--is unobstructed by the bulk of the MRT Ortigas Station. For some reason, Mulder and Scully were there, complete with the bulky early-season trenchcoats. We were all looking in the direction of Shaw Boulevard, but up at the sky. "Hey look!" I called out to Mulder, "Aliens!" And right then, a thin, yellow beam of light shot across the sky like a meteorite, but it was bright enough to be visible in the daytime--possibly late afternoon. This was followed by the specter of a large bulk of flying technology--you kind of know by the black interspersed with yellow patterns--turning from behind a thick cloud cover. I was then accosted by a little girl--about three or four--who seemed to have been lost. Her features are indistinct now, but I do remember she had a backpack. So off I took her to look for her guardians. 
My perspective shifted then to a third-person camera view, focusing on some balding old man in glasses handling what appeared to be little toy men--not quite dolls. They had the same head-to-body proportions as Stewie from Family Guy, except their heads were slightly rounder and their eyes were closer to the nose. Their heads were also all orange, and their bodies all purple, like those cheaply molded plastic toys we see. And then I got a closer look at the toys: the right eyes contained two smaller circles in them, sitting side by side. Sometimes they would change positions within their eye. The old mad-scientist type started muttering something malevolent. As is the case with arch-villains--it was obvious then what he was--like this, he had a large globe with him, as if to remind him of what he was about to conquer. He took the little toy men and started pushing them, head first, into the globe, training their weird little eyes on the interior. I had a Hermetic moment ("As above, so below"), and considered it a simulation of what I had just seen outside. By that time, I had gotten the little girl into some building, and we were still looking for someone to pick her up. We were in a semi-circular room that looked like a cross between 40's and 60's architecture, with the polished wooden floors and staircase that followed the curve of the wall--like Eugene's house in Gattaca. One wall was flat, and had some kind of observation window, although there wasn't much to observe there. At that point, I was fully cozignant of the old man's nefarious intentions, so when the little girl gave out a cry of alarm, I knew it had something to do with him. True enough, inside her backpack was one of those plastic toy men, and it was moving. It was slow at that time, but I'd seen enough TV and movies to know it'd gain speed soon enough. I took it from the girl, laid it on the floor, and we hurried out of the room. As I locked the door, I had a vision of flames erupting on the inside, so I knew we didn't have that much time. The room we were in was an exercise in decadence: it was part of one of the office buildings near EDSA and Ortigas, but its design was solely for its owner's taste and needs--whatever they were--and wasn't meant for office work. We found this out because we were going down a fire escape and emerged once more near the corner of both avenues, beside the mall. I was afraid then that going into any of the malls would subject us to the old man's panopticon, so I thought of going to this fictitious park (the only kind we have in some parts of the city) build by one of the pharmaceutical companies that have operations in the Philippines. It's supposed to have lots of open spaces, few places where cameras might be hidden. I placed a call to someone, asking for backup. Getting there gave us another unrestricted view of the sky, this time of planes flying here and there. The local planes were the usual stiff vehicles we know them to be, but the others took on stranger shapes. A specimen from Air France in particular looked more organic, and was flapping its wings, much like the languid manner a swan has once it has achieved a high enough altitude. Still, we hurried on to the park. My priorities shifted upon getting there; it became less of a matter of global conspiracies and personal security, and more of ... socializing. My old colleagues from Makati were there, for one reason or another, and were regaling me of the new kinds of committee work they were doing. I retroactively gained another purpose in going there, flashing on a memory of reading an email asking for a meeting at one of the cafés there. Because of some communication mixup, they ended up going there just to hang out instead. The little girl was all but forgotten when Aldus turned up, leading to a strange meeting between him and my former officemates. Now I don't know what happened to Mulder and Scully, the old man and his panopticon, and the little girl. I hate these to-be-continueds.
And for my second blog post, something egotistical: my name.
To anyone who's ever received an email from me, they'd know I'm Paul Julius Martin Catiang. There is, of course, a story to each of them.
Julius. My birthday's on July 1st, same as my Tita Oyet--our family's diminutive for Julieta. My grandfather insisted on it. Derived from Latin, it means downy-bearded.
Martin. The patron saint of the church where I was christened. My mom would've been content with a 'Paul Martin'. Also derived from the Latin Martinus, or 'of Mars'.
Catiang. My grandfather's surname, one of the few to survive Narciso Claveria's imposition. I think it's a Malay word, meaning 'tuber', as in kamote or potato. And of course,
Paul. Derived from Latin, meaning 'small'. Also my dad's name. And thereby hangs a tale. My parents met in 1974, when they were both working for a research firm in Manila. My dad was already engaged to someone else in India, and according to one of my ninangs, my mom just wanted a baby for herself, and it seems to have worked out well for them. Still, my mom named me Paul Kurrien, Jr., after my dad. (I'dve preferred a "the Second" in the end, since it rounds out the delightful pretentiousness of it all, but no. *sigh*)
Sometime in the mid-80s, my elementary school principal (and also church pastor) suggested to my mom that I use her name instead. Since the church also ran the school, it was no big deal to have my records changed. I kept 'Catiang' since then, through two high schools, the UP system, and three semi-freelance jobs.
Of course, such a tenuous identity couldn't possibly last, especially since my dad found me two years ago. Travelling to India became a prospect, one made viable by a passport, and a passport absolutely has to match the name on my birth certificate.
So over the past month, I filed for identification under my original name with several government agencies: SSS, BIR, the local baranggay hall, and the Philippine Post Office. And of course, the DFA's not far behind.
The surname 'Catiang' won't be left behind, either. For all legal and financial purposes, I'm using 'Kurrien', but I'm keeping 'Catiang' for my nom de plume. Odiba, may itals pa?
So there you go: an abridged version of the history of my nomenclature. What's the story behind your name?
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