creative diaries

Thursday, October 8, 2026

The cozy months are here. Celebrate the change of the seasons with one of the most famous autumn inspired poems from English poet and romanticist John Keats.

TO AUTUMN

John Keats (1795-1821)

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
  Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
  With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
  And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
    To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
  With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
    For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
  Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
  Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
  Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
    Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
  Steady thy laden head across a brook;
  Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
    Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
  Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
  And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
  Among the river sallows, borne aloft
    Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
  Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
  The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
    And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Tuesday, September 15, 2026

The Oasis Effect: When an IMAX Theater Becomes an Arena

Inside an almost-empty IMAX theater, Oasis turns a rainy Saturday into a two-hour trip back to the ’90s.

There are movie experiences, and then there are the ones that make you forget you're sitting in a movie theater.

That was Oasis for me.

On a rainy Saturday, I booked an IMAX screening of Don’t Look Back in Anger through the SM Cinema app, taking advantage of the first National Cinema Day in the Philippines. With movie tickets deeply discounted nationwide, it seemed like the perfect excuse to spend an evening with one of the bands that defined my musical coming-of-age.

What I didn't expect was to have the theater almost entirely to myself.

There were just four of us in a 407-seat IMAX auditorium.

But once the lights went down, those hundreds of empty seats disappeared. The enormous screen came alive, the Dolby Atmos system kicked in, and suddenly I wasn't watching a concert film.

I was inside one.

For a docu-concert, IMAX is hard to beat. Every guitar riff had weight. Every drumbeat seemed to move through the room. And when thousands of Oasis fans erupted on screen, their collective roar filled the theater as though the entire arena had somehow been transported into it.

The film's visual language makes the illusion even more convincing.

Grainy, gritty and deliberately unpolished, Don’t Look Back in Anger captures the rough-edged aesthetic of the ’90s without turning nostalgia into a costume. The concert footage feels raw and intimate, while the editing gives the film the energy of an extended Oasis music video—part documentary, part spectacle, part time capsule.

Then come the cities: Cardiff, Seoul, Brazil, Mexico and the other stops on the reunion tour.

And suddenly, four people in an almost-empty cinema become irrelevant.

On screen, thousands of fans are crying, singing, dancing, hugging, drinking beer and completely losing themselves in songs they have known for decades. The emotion is infectious. This isn't simply an audience watching a band; it's an audience reconnecting with a version of itself.

That's where the cinema experience becomes something more than cinema.

From my seat, I felt as though I was moving from arena to arena with them. The scale of IMAX made the crowds feel enormous, while the sound put me right in the middle of the music. For two hours, Cardiff could have been Manila, Seoul could have been London, and that rainy Saturday outside the theater might as well have belonged to another lifetime.

And maybe that's the real power of Oasis.

The Gallagher brothers' famously turbulent relationship may have supplied decades of rock-and-roll drama, but watching the reunion unfold, I found myself less interested in the old conflicts than in what survived them.

The songs survived.

The fans survived.

The memories survived.

For those of us who remember Oasis at the height of Britpop, the songs aren't simply songs anymore. They're bookmarks in our lives—attached to friendships, romances, late nights, youthful ambitions and that particular ’90s feeling that the world was still wide open.

Watching an entire generation—and the generations that followed—sing those songs together makes that connection impossible to miss.

By the time the credits rolled, the petrichor scented evening felt almost poetic.

I had walked into the cinema on an ordinary Saturday and spent two hours somewhere else: in another decade, surrounded by thousands of strangers, with Oasis playing impossibly loud.

It was nostalgic without being sentimental, chaotic without being exhausting, and immersive in exactly the way a great cinema experience should be.

On a rainy Saturday, Don’t Look Back in Anger was quite literally an oasis.

And for two glorious hours, I didn't look back in anger.

I looked back with a smile.

Friday, September 4, 2026

A Little Artful Detour: Discovering Hanag: Emergent Perspectives at SM City Iloilo

When mall culture meets homegrown creativity, color and inspiration

Between weekend errands, coffee runs, and the usual little things that fill up a Sunday, it’s always lovely to stumble upon something unexpected—something that makes you pause, look a little closer, and forget where you were headed for a while.

That was Hanag: Emergent Perspectives for me.

Held at SM City Iloilo as part of the city’s 89th Charter Day festivities, the art exhibit curated by Taohay-NCCA director Elvert Banares offered a refreshing little detour from the everyday. The exhibit opened on August 17, 2026, and was extended until August 30, bringing together the works of Ilonggo artists and designers in a celebration of creativity, identity, and contemporary perspectives.

And what a treat it was to see homegrown talent take center stage.

Hanag featured works by John Francis Berber, Margaux Blas, Daniel De La Cruz, Peter John De La Vega, Kyle Francis Dile, Guijo Dueñas, Joshua Gabayeran, Peach Garde, Kyle Fermindoza, Martin Genodepa, Patrick Jamora, Carlo Juntado, Manny Librodo, Joemel Mirabuena, Renwil Portodo, Al Provido, Sabrec, and Edgardo Lopez Suelo.

There’s something special about encountering art in an unexpected place. One minute you’re thinking about what to have for lunch or whether you still have enough coffee at home; the next, you’re standing in front of a piece that catches your eye and makes you stop.

Perhaps that's one of the quiet joys of city life—beauty finding you when you aren't necessarily looking for it.

For me, Hanag was a welcome pause amid the weekend bustle. It was a chance to slow down, take in different interpretations of the world, and appreciate the creative voices emerging from our own corner of the country.

The exhibit also felt like a lovely reminder of just how much artistic talent Iloilo has to offer. Beyond our heritage buildings, food, festivals, and familiar city landmarks, there is a thriving creative community continually finding new ways to tell stories and interpret the place we call home.

And if you missed Hanag at SM City Iloilo, don't worry—you haven't completely missed your chance.

The exhibit is set to continue its journey to the Taohay Cultural Center and Regional Hub this September, giving more art lovers an opportunity to experience the collection.

So the next time you're out for a weekend of errands and coffee, keep your eyes open.

You never know what beautiful little detour the city might have waiting for you.

Wednesday, September 2, 2026

Is it raining where you are?

From the soft, misty drizzles of London to the raging monsoon rains of the Philippines, rain hits differently depending on your latitude. Huddled in a corner in the freezing rain or taking refuge at bus stops to escape being washed away by tropical typhoons, rain can be both beautiful and terrifyingly dangerous. (That being said, I love London rain. It is such a vibe.)

I've always been a pluviophile. I love the scent of petrichor, the static in the air that heralds the fresh outpouring of rain. Spattering on rooftops or whirling like diadems across the pavement, I tend to romanticize the way rain seems to wash our beings clean of urban weariness and ennui.

Rain-fed memories and feelings rise to the surface on days when heavy clouds and dark skies make us especially nostalgic or vulnerable. I find myself longing for happier days when rainy afternoons meant splashing in puddles or enjoying a hot, steaming bowl of Maggi beef instant noodles. On stormy days, one of my favorite childhood memories was building forts out of pillows and blankets, then tucking my ragdolls in to sleep.

Nowadays, rain elicits both delight and anxiety: delight for the relief it brings from sweltering summer days, but anxiety at the thought of flash floods and all the dangers that can come with it.

Perhaps that is what rain has taught me—that beauty and danger can sometimes arrive together, falling from the same darkened sky.

So, wherever you are, wherever the clouds have gathered—

may your rain be soft,

may your roof keep you dry,

may there be something warm waiting for you,

and may the storm always pass.

May rain always be gentle with you.