The Great Soul Searching | Last Part

Exhaustion claws dragging the weary to sleep. It was the first time in recent memory when the call of slumber came and slipped through the comfort of dreams. It must have been the business meeting earlier that night and the promises it brings. A start-up company, a passion I've been doing for ages, a good pay, a boss who is the husband of a former teacher. The elements are all present, the only thing missing is the blood compact that will finally seal the deal.

Two accounts disappeared, while two others had their first run. Hopes are high that these double strike will end the strings of whammy. The account I keep still bleeds profusely. Today a total output of an entire shift can be managed by a single agent. And there are more than 10 agents in that shift. It's no wonder, nobody was looking at my direction when their shift ended at six.

Project Raketship may have been too grand an idea, it ended in a flux. A series of misunderstood correspondence lead to a breakdown of communications. The trigger was a request for detailed instructions. The Virtual Assistant promised a prompt reply but reinforcements came in the form of a howling wind. While repeated inquiries about the article development flooded my email, my request for details were completely ignored. Silence fell on all channels. In the end, I courteously announced my decision to leave.

While doing my evaluation, I found several errors committed by the agent in focus. I was fuming mad of course, she had undergone a re-training just a few weeks ago. The bitch in me was ready to strike again, but then I realized,

"What is the point of being too hard, when she is just demoralized like everyone else."

So instead of slapping the agent with a glaring email (which could be read by everyone on the floor) to point out her errors, I gave a few examples that she could follow as part of the corrective measures included in the evaluation.

Today is the end of the month. In less than thirty days, a new life will carry on the torch from the old guards. A new generation will inherit the earth, and despite the unreadiness of his parents to bring him to this world. Hope sees through. It will be a year less before my mother retires and a year more before I embrace my third decade. These new realities colliding with my old principles are tearing the order apart.  When the dust settles, wisdom will be acquired.

If there are two things I have learned so far, first is to never allow oneself to be romantically attached. Love must take a backseat when the fate of an entire household is involved. Last is to learn to take chances. I maybe unprepared for the big jump, but I have made up my mind.

It is time to move on.


Photographer Jamie Hopper

Here it is, the final shots for the SS/11 Collection's Lookbook. We are still in the process of marketing the collection to buyers, boutiques, and show rooms so these looks will not be available until next spring (hence SS/11 collection). I hope that you guys like them all. I've worked so hard, and put so much time, energy, and passion into each and every one of these samples that I feel a little sad to think that my focus is now on FW/11.

Thank you guys for all of the wonderful comments on my last post and thank you for following Newcomer; if you are not yet following this blog, please do so via bloglovin' or blogger. 

Next Post: I am so excited about these new ideas that I have been fiddling with, and now I have decided to commit to them. 
(1) Introducing "Newcomer Collection." Collections of garments designed by me, which will only be available for sale on this blog. The collections will be tiny at first but if they are successful then I  expect them to grow in quantity. But for the first few, I will add to them periodically as I see fit. 
(2) If you don't already know, I love love love vintage clothes. People are always asking me where I find my vintage pieces. Well, what they don't know is that almost every vintage piece I own has had little to massive alterations; sometimes it's almost like reconstructive surgery. So I want to share my gift for altering/ redesigning vintage clothes with all of you. If you haven't gotten my point yet (probably because i am rambling on and on) let me reiterate, in addition to Newcomer Collections, i will be selling altered vintage finds! Isn't that super exciting :)"true">

The Great Soul Searching | First Part

Facebook shout-out says  "it takes balls to admit that you are scared too."  There is no point in hiding and as the months fall like leaves from an old tree, the truth becomes more of a burden to keep:  help is not coming. The only choice is to swim.

Two accounts have pulled out from our company yesterday.  You can see the disappointment in the eyes of everyone. In the way they walked alone to the elevator or stare at the computer screens with emptiness in their hearts, the overwhelming sadness was there.   People seldom talk these days, or if they do, they speak with broken words retelling the hardships they endure in life.  Morale is at all time low since the retrenchment last June. Promises of a better pay never came despite the illusion of a turnaround a month after the forced banishment.

The account I handle does not earn.  This is what the boss has spelled out during our last management meeting. We cannot pressure the client to come up with more job orders since advertisements are handled by another company.  If volume surges unexpectedly, we do not have the manpower to keep up with the demand.  The client used to instruct all sorts of alterations to the way we do our job. These days, they whimper every time we call to ask when work will come in.

Our agents used to be the cream of the crop. They enjoyed privileges believing they were a source of pride to the company.  Now there are plans to take away the last perks these people enjoy. "There is no choice," the boss confessed.  "Either we fold up or make some adjustments."  I understood the situation and kept a mum about the changes. But when word spreads, expect a round of attrition and some gnashing of teeth from those who will be affected.

"If you are free later, please come. I will introduce you to someone."  I said to an agent who was booted out today.  "Please bring your resume so they can process your application."

"Take that job offer if you must."  I told another agent. She was plying her resume in another company , also today.  "Kahit graveyard patusin mo na..."  If only I could tell the coming changes. Once she finds out, it would drive her to the pits of depression again.

They say the captain swims last when the boat sinks. I would like to believe in such noble idea but the more I begin to think of responsibilities - at home - the more I am tempted to break free of the cycle.  Someone had set me up with a meeting this evening.  The job being offered is quite familiar and the pay is even better than what I am getting.  There is even a company laptop and an HMO to employees to be given away.

The offer is very interesting.

And as if fate has yet to be satisfied with the wager, it threw another dice leaving me more uncertain with the final decision: Mom gave the green light. Negotiations for a smooth transition will be discussed during this evening's meeting. Nobody is aware at work, nor I have the intentions of announcing my resignation yet. But for some strange reasons, the boss may have read my mind and has decided to give me a new assignment.

"I want you to monitor the quality of our agents when changes finally take place." He began.  "Since your other colleague has left, expect a new adjustment to your salary next month."


I can't contain my excitement, Jamie just brought over the disk today of the image for the Lookbook shoots.  They are all so perfect :) Here i am doing some minor finishing touches to samples at the shoot. The first model is Amanda and the one below is Kristen, both signed with Factor Atlanta. 

The Trouble With Sleep

They say in the older days,  when electricity is yet to be invented,  when the price of a candle can afford a peasant's meal for a day, when nobody goes out when darkness swallows the earth,  people sleep at the set of dusk. That is what I learned from watching History Channel.

Old nocturnal habits have began disrupting my Circadian Rhythm.  I arrive home at past six.  Dinner time is at eight.   The full meal I eat - the only one allowable after starving myself the whole day leaves me in a state of sluggishness.  I become a couch potato after turning into a gym bunny a few hours earlier. Since my living room is also my sleeping quarters, I end up dozing off after watching my favorite TV shows for an hour. Body clock wakes me up at past midnight. And no matter how I force myself back to sleep for the supposed-to-be six in the morning work schedule, the attempt becomes an exercise in futility.

In the older days, people sleep twice at night.  They get up at around midnight to do some chores that would not require them to leave their fortress homes. The landscape must have been shrouded in complete darkness, save for a billion stars turning the sky into a patchwork of lights. The silvery glow of a round moon was the only source of solace, if she takes her place in heaven.

But in the age of 24-hour television, of call centers and artificial lights, Night becomes irrelevant, not even for sleeping.

And so here I am, after downing a pill that would easily induce slumber, with the mind on the verge of a shutdown, is looking forward to a union with my pillow. An hour or two of shuteye is enough to keep me in a state of wakefulness until noon.   After which, the same cycle begins again, leaving me sleep bound, leaving me slumber less until I get used to the pattern and after so many nights of whining and so many nights searching for the sandman

The midnight break will not trouble me anymore.

There is no reprieve. Six am. Off to work.

Into The Dark


You know this familiar itch. The one, the body could not resist. It betrays the higher functions of the mind and turns us back to our base human instincts. I too succumb to my carnal urges and in my younger days have gone to the extremes to satiate my desires. My wisdom is born out of experience and the lesson I will part today may spare you from humiliation should you walk the route I once took - flipping over - on my way to our not-so-secret wonderland.


Rejection comes easy to fat people. It was a lesson I bitterly learned. Kaya naman hanggang pangarap lang makatikim ng totoong karne noon. One must pay his way through for a piece of prime beef.

At a funeral home where a beloved awaited her journey to her final resting place was a massage clinic across the street. At past 4 in the morning, with sleeplessness setting in and boredom enhancing the senses, I decided to check the place out and taste the boys in the menu.

Yes, I remember. They were all in the inner room lying next to one another. The break of twilight was an assurance that no horny customer will interrupt their slumber. But there was I, barging into the door and asking the manager to rouse them from their sleep. I was too drunk with lust to even walk back and I knew - from online sources - that everything is possible with just the right amount of cash.

The scent of cheap lotion still clung on my skin the next day after being pulped and tenderized by the beefcake cock sucking masseur.


The idea came from a fellow blogger. He was once a patron of such places until fate called and told him to plant his roots elsewhere.  It was a weekday night, I recall, and contingency measures (such as who to call in case of emergency) were also included when I was planning my expedition.

The place was somewhere along Harrison.   It was already a legend even in ancient times and no history of police incursions have ever took place within its secluded premises.   Conventional wisdom tells that for such a place to operate within a stone's throw distance from city hall means that its owners have friends in high places. Anonymity was my biggest concern and from the information I have gathered, I knew I was safe.

I picked an inconspicuous night for my first prowl. I cannot recall scoring big, but I fondly remember making out with a brutish gym coach before he left to chase a more delectable prey. It was my first attempt to suspend my faculties of attachment and focus on the pressing need for orgasm. The best part of the expedition was the thrill of choosing. Sex was readily available should I decide to pursue a predator.

I went home that early morning with a black hole in my chest.


These recollections emerged after reading Vince and his story about the police raid at the Queeriosity Palace. We share our sympathies for those who were unjustly treated and were traumatized by the incident. While the issue of human rights and extortion by the Pasay Police Force must be cast into the spotlight, we cannot help but ask: should patrons and hookers take responsibility as well for the risk knowing that sexual acts outside the comfort of one's personal quarters are merely tolerated and not completely accepted by people at large?

In those nights I prowled in the dark, I was completely aware of the stakes to my anonymity.  There was no room for complacency nor space for finger pointing should a mistake be committed.

And so I spirited my warm frame just when nobody was looking.  Whether it was at 4 in the morning at a massage clinic in San Juan or at 10 in the evening in a bathouse in Manila.  I came only when there would be few patrons around and the police, knowing that it would be more of a burden than a profit to exercise their right to abuse the fearful will back away from such idea.

For it is a sad, sad tale that until one embraces selflessness and allow himself to be sacrificed - violently - will the society realizes one's plight.  In a Dystopian world that is ours.  Injustice only matter when the person who was wronged get feasted and drunk by the media,

and in most times,  has performed acts worthy of national indignation and ends up becoming dead.

Project Raketship

Permission to accept the sideline was already granted. Mami Athena has expressed her best wishes and even said that I will shine in such environment. But on the eve of signing the contract with the agency, it appears they have fallen short of my expectations. I will fail in my commitment.  A content writer position may sound tempting to any job-searcher. But realities now tell that it is not as simple as the job responsibilities state.

The position was recommended by a colleague who just left the company . He said their writers are paid 15 grands monthly. Imagine the earnings I would receive should I be accepted as their part-time talent. Dazzled by the opportunity, a resume was submitted.  Response came two days after and a training was set the next Saturday later.

It took us several hours to complete the training. There were three of us - a teacher from a private school, a team leader from a call center company, and there was me, proud and confident that my experience in blogging would easily land me a job in the agency. The trainer provided the materials on how Search Engine Optimization works. They even have a process to make an article appear on the first page of any search engine. Training was a breeze and even the exercise the trainer had provided was too easy for me.

Three hours through the chat conference, the trainer disappeared. He told us to take a break but he never came back.

Hours were wasted but the free learning was enough to cover the 100 peso charge for renting a computer. Moving on was done swiftly. There will always be another job search. Raket is easy to those who look for money.

Another call came a few days later. It was from the agency telling yours truly that I passed the training. WTF, I told myself. Aside from learning the basics, nothing was gained from the exercise that was assigned. Nevertheless a chance is a chance and despite the number of inquiries and doubts about this project, I signed up this morning for my first assignment.


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The topic was easy to pull out from the linear ideas. Using all my knowledge to harvest the Google for anything - that will shed light to the assignment which was given, a subject was chosen. Without any directions as to how the article should form from the formless, I readied my fingers to tap the first words that will make up the first sentence of my piece.


Several additional online articles and a 400-word blog entry (which I was able to finish in less than an hour) later, my mind remains kaput as to how to begin my first job order.


Every blogger has a style unique to him. Every posts remains fascinating and somewhat heartwarming. However, not all blogger have the itch to express themselves through writing everyday. Most of them would update their blogs once a week. But there are those who share their story on a day to day basis, and for avid reader like me... waiting for their new entry to appear is like looking forward to the next episode of your most favorite anime program.

Planetary State Visits
Fullmetal Dreams
March 6, 2004

Namulat ako sa panahong tanging mga ka-tropa lang ang nagbabasa ng blog ko. Bago lang ang Blogger noon. Hindi pa siya property ng Google at karamihan sa mga nagsusulat sa internet ay sa Live Journal gumagawa ng draft entries. Hindi pa uso ang blog-hopping at pagfo-follow ng ibang blogs. Para maka-connect, kinailangan pa na maging member ng Rice Bowl Journals magkaroon lang ng exposure sa ibang bloggers.

In just several days, the moderators of Rice Bowl Journals will review my blog. I don't know how will it go, but hopefully, I'll pass their review. On my application, there's this tinge of hesitation of showing my space to everyone, after all... I've been so open in this piece of liberty to the point of even compromising my security over freedom of expressing oneself. I have some classmates and acquaintances there, once they find out my blog. I should consider myself doomed.

Anyway, maybe I should think globally starting today, after all, there might be a slim chance that I will be read by everyone around Asia. Besides, my writing skills had become so appalling these days, that I think I should... expand my vocabulary by reading porn magazines. hehehe.

Tholitz Star System Applies For Rice Bowl Membership
Fullmetal Dreams
April 26, 2004

A gay blogger was non-existent. Kung mayroon man na mga pink writers noon, asahan mo na exclusive rin sila sa isa't isa. A few would bother leaving a comment on your blog or send an email - to encourage you to write more. Nobody would invite you to join their group and if ever you are blogging alone, good luck na lang sa paghahanap ng readers sa cyberspace.

For the longest time, solace came from the fact that nobody reads me. Sulat lang ng sulat, tutal, ako lang naman ang reader ng aking blog. Walang masama maging emo. Okay lang kahit sablay sa grammar at kahit patapon man ang iba sa aking naging entries, ang mahalaga ay malaya ang sinuman na maglabas ng kanyang saloobin.

Hindi nagtagal at unti-unting nagsipagtamaran mag-blog ang mga kaibigan ko. Expression was not really their thing. Pati yung kabarkada ko na nagpauso ng blogging sa tropa ay huminto rin. Kung hindi ako nagkakamali sa nangyari sa amin, sa blog lumalabas ang di-pagkakaunawaan ng mga tao.  Sa blog nag-aaway ang mga nag-split. Ang isa naman ay sa blog sinulat ang kanyang sexcapades na ikina-trauma ng buong barkada.  Pati ako na walang outlet para ilabas ang sama ng loob matapos magkatuhugan ang dalawang kaibigan ko pati si ex ay nakigaya rin.  It would take some time before I met the real gay bloggers na nagsisimula pa lang noon. There was Eon and also Mcvie, but a year would still pass before I met the two of them personally.

Naalala ko ang nakaraan nang makakuwentuhan ang isang neophyte recently. Sabi niya ay matagal na siyang reader pero naiintimidate siya gumawa ng sarili niyang blog dahil baka ma-judge ang kanyang writing sa paraang di katanggap-tanggap ng iba. Nakikinig ako sa kanyang kuwento, pero at the back of my head, parang gusto ko maramdaman kung paano maging bagong blogger ulit.  Nakakamiss yung feeling na makapag-express for the first time: yung pakiramdam na may isang reader na nag-iwan ng comment sa unang entry mo.

We have different reasons for writing, and different ways to get others  read our blog. Marami ang tahimik na magli-link ng blog mo sa blog nila. Ang iba nagiging follower at ang mangilan-ngilan ay may kakaibang trip gaya ng pag-iiwan ng general comment na may kasamang link papunta sa blog nila.

Sabi nila mahirap maging blogger dahil mahirap humanap ng topic. Kung mahirap humanap ng topic, higit na challenging kung paano sisimulan at tatapusin ang pagsusulat. Pagkatapos gumawa ng entry, naroon ang anxiety kung ito ba ay babasahin o hindi. Kung mayroon ba na magcocomment o wala. These things, napagdaanan ko na and the greatest lesson I learned comes from writing from the heart.

Hindi nagtatagal ang manunulat na pa-impress lang.

Many bloggers are celebrating their anniversaries and 100th entries this week. It was a long and eventful journey and being one of the precursors still around,

Out of boredom, I confided my story to one of my closest female co-trainee.

It was during the time when I felt that I was already loosing my PLU touch, that I was already loosing my identity as a non-straight.

Perhaps I was too concerned about the endless pairings our co-trainees to us, that I was prompted to tell the truth. To assure her of my intentions and hopefully to loose those inhibitions she had erected because of the situation.

Trust me, she didn't believed me at first. She thought that I was just making it up.

Only after several assurances did she ever believed in my revelation. Kulang na lang, ikalat niya sa paligid namin na ganun ako.

Before I Let Go
Fullmetal Dreams
July 30, 2004 - Hiatus before returning to blogspace four months later.  All early entries were untouched. I used to be a very lousy writer.

kinagagalak ko na makasama kayo sa lakbay ng buhay.

Write on.

OUTFIT: Balloon Dress SS/10

I designed this silk and crepe dress, (oh so long ago) for my spring/summer 2010 collection. Its sample size, so it fits me perfectly. I've only worn it out once before this. I think that it is one of the most comfortable item i own, but most importantly I feel completely confident and original when wearing it. 

 Photography by Goran Jovanovic

Ang Cheese Curls Ni Manong Potpot

Naging ruta na ni Manong Potpot ang eskinita sa labas ng aming lumang bahay. Tuwing alas tres ng hapon ang kanyang dating - tamang tama bago mag Batibot na kasunod naman ay Carebears na noon ay sa Channel 4 pinapalabas. Sa basketball court na ang tawag sa amin ay Badjao, maririnig ang busina ng paparating na kariton. Dali-daling magsisilabasan ang mga bata't mga tambay mula sa kanilang mga bahay na nag-uunahan sa snack na pinapalit ng magkakariton.

Palibhasa ay salat sa barya, pasimple akong kakaripas ng takbo patungong labahan. Masukal ang lugar at ang katabi noon ay ang bodega. Doon nakatago ang mga bote na ginagamit kong pamalit sa Cheese Curls na pang trade-in ni Manong Potpot sa halip na pera.

Makailang beses na akong sinabihan ng matatanda na marumi daw ang Cheese Curls. Maraming ulit na rin akong napalo dahil sa pagiging pasaway ko. Pero sino ba naman ang hindi makakapigil sa Cheese Curls ni Manong. Bukod sa lasa itong Chickadees, (na laging may libreng laruan na kasama ang bawat pack) ang tunay na selling point ng curls ay ang pagiging libre nito.

Nakalagay ang Cheese Curls sa isang dambuhalang transparent na supot katabi ng mga boteng nakoleta ni Manong Potpot sa buong araw na pag-iikot. Hindi ko alam kung ilang araw bago maubos ang laman ng plastic, pero anong silbi ng kaalamang ito sa batang laging gutom? Ang bawat boteng pamalit (na kadalasan ay Tanduay o kaya naman ay Silver Swan) ay katumbas ng isang takal na nilalagay ng magkakariton sa lumang diyaryo na binalot na parang cone. Ni minsan ay hindi sumakit ang tiyan ko dito. Nagkabulate man ako (sa kadahilanang hindi connected sa Cheese Curls) pero ayos lang, matamis naman ang Combatrin.


I still remember the smirk on your face when I confessed to you my fear of frogs. You said how could a big guy like me freeze on the spot when I can easily squish the poor creature with my 12 inch foot. Your comment came after a toad leaped out of nowhere stopping us dead on our tracks. The appearance of the insolent amphibian cut short our stroll along the banks. It was after a brief downpour on a chilly Wednesday evening.

It was our first date on a very inconspicuous day that ended up extraordinarily fun for us. I didn't show my pleasure, and you know of course that I'm a good-for-nothing sloth who shuts down at the strike of nineteen O'clock. You chose Halo Halo for dessert while I had a Sundae Glass of Cookies and Cream. We shared a platter of French Fries while trading stories...

hoping to get to know more about ourselves.

Who would have thought remembering would be this painful - up to the last detail - even your Ondoy story as well as the bluff that you would order me to wear a toad-wallet around my neck for reasons only known to me.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end.

Dropping by unannounced at the same spot did not prepare me for the flood of memories. My apparition was intentional. Bittersweet. Solitary. Yet it cemented every good thought we keep. I shall not pass the same road again nor allow another memory to desecrate the sacred ground that is forever mine. For all its worth, thank you for everything. I have learned so much.

A part of you will always be with me.

"Minister Leanthele..." the aide was rushing towards the esteemed statesman.

"Yes, How may I help you?"

"We regret to inform you that only two out of seven magistrates from the Havok tribe chose to join us."

"Ahhh! The Black Suns chose to stay behind... We respect their decision."

"The two magistrates will attend the covenant when you gather again after planetrise."

"Very well then. In behalf of the Star Riders, please extend our gratitude to our old comrades." the minister said. "We would also need their voice once the covenant cast their votes."

"Please allow me to ask, what vote are you referring to."

"When your high lords ask, tell them the Dream Walkers would like to undergo a long sleep."

Meanwhile, the Planetship begins to power up its four massive nacelles for its gentle push out of orbit.


Me doing final fittings in actual fabric before the show, which at the time the photos were taken was two weeks away. I invited Jacques Bell to come teach the models how to walk in a way that would fit the aesthetic of my collection and the mood of my show. He did the most wonderful job and the girls really caught on quick. 


Jamie Hopper is my photographer of choice. She shot the Campaign images before the collection was even completed, and set a mood of her own with the photographs that inspired some of the other pieces. The models are Alex and Amanda both signed with Factor and both walked in my show. I love the aptitude that Amanda brings and I adore Alex's sex appeal. I very excited to see how these images turn out.


Sometimes I forget that I love to dress nicely. Now that the show is over, I am so excited to be able to have the time to put an outfit together and to feel confident in my own skin. Today is one of the first days since the show, that I've gotten to pull something out of my closet that is not a baseball cap and a tee-shirt (eewww).

MTV Generation

There was a time when it was possible to watch MTV without the torture of having to see reality shows inserted between music video programs. These reality shows, with shallow and overused plots revolving around a bunch of kids and their teenage angst have been the staple of music channels for years. Blame the shift on generation taste. The kids-turned-adults who now tune in to other cable channels are the ones who never changed.

But things were different over a decade ago. Being denied access to technology and budget to produce expensive videos, directors were often forced to harness their creativity to make up for the shortfall. Artistically rendered music videos with sublime and hidden stories could trigger a discourse on pop culture among children. Good merits heavily depended on how the song made sense after its music video interpretation.

Before MTV, there was the Video Hits Parade on Channel 2. Mom and I used to watch the show to pass time on lazy weekends. When Skycable finally linked our television sets with the rest of the world, one of the first music videos I saw was Alanis Morisettes' Ironic. The video was plain and there was nothing much to see. It features Morisette on a roadtrip with her three clones playing as passengers. A pastiche of her other selves doing silly things while singing the song form most of the scenes. For an average kid today, the video would not even struck a chord. But for us back then it was a trendsetter.

Ironic would go down in history as one of the best music videos of 1996. The end product maybe a far cry from Lady Gaga's creations but then, it may have inspired dozens of artists including the Fame Monster to stick with their dream and become performers themselves in the future.

In following the footsteps of lady Beckham, here are my top five music videos.

December 2 Chapter VII
Taken By Cars

Literal meanings of the song may have been lost to interpretation, but the video did not. Behind the bubble gum symbolisms, a hooded fox chasing an androgynous girl, soft lights twinkling in the dark and a wailing lady singing at the background is a brooding suicidal theme centered around the inescapable despair of loneliness.

Final Distance
Utada Hikaru

The Japanese have always been masters of rendering scenes with surreal elements. Final Distance is a ballad dedicated to Rena Yamashita, a young girl who was brutally stabbed in a school rampage in Japan. To reflect what Utada have felt at the senseless killing, (the girl had previously mentioned that she wanted to become a song writer like Utada when she grows up) Hikaru created two limbo-like worlds in the music video where the main protagonist is coddled by grotesque figures but remain trapped in her own prison. Before the video end, the protagonist reunites with her other self setting off the camera to pan out and reveal that the worlds were actually a floating island drifting in space.

Smashing Pumpkins

Gone is the age romanticized in this video. It follows a day in the life of three disaffected kids driving around in a Dodge Charger.

The music video is based on the concept of an idealized version of a teenage life, while also trying to capture the feeling of being bored as a teenager. The video struck me hard when I was in college. Somehow I understood the hidden message which was to enjoy the sights of life for one will never pass the same road again.

Billy Corgan once lamented "The video was the closest we've ever come to realizing everything we wanted" True to his words, we remember 1979 now as the Golden Age of Alternative music genre.

I Don't Want To Wait
Paula Cole

Paula Cole's music video depicts an immortal woman living through different times only to see her lovers cross the afterlife. Each period rolls into a new age when she runs around a room full of clocks. The fine gowns representing Elizabethan, Baroque and Pre-War periods capture one's imagination of timelessness. Her dance steps at the beginning (with Cole's arms flailing like the hands of time) mimics how things change while the protagonist remains the same. I used to spend an entire day tuned in to MTV just to see this video, but my efforts were all in vain. I Don't Want To Wait was the least aired in the music channel among my top five.

Here is Gone
Goo Goo Dolls

This video has produced a cult following. In my opinion, Here is Gone echoes 1979's concept of an idealized version of a teenage life. But the difference lies with how the coming of age took many forms and symbols here: the crawling caterpillar at the beginning turning into a moth at the song's closing, the time lapse shot of the sun as it journeys across the sky, a boy hurling a pebble hitting a road sign that says "end," a woman dancing on top of a broken car. For its rich imagery and feel good sound, Here is Gone stays as my favorite music video of all time.