Living In The Shadow: That lip syncing feeling of being the son of (and brother of)

Sister pact: Ashlee had a heart to heart with sister Jessica after releasing her single, Shadow..

Before she starred in that Melrose Place remake — which lasted only one season (it was more of a misstep, really, than TV goldmine vis-à-vis the chiseled, anti-Girls mannequins of 90210), and before her lip synching brouhaha with Saturday Night Live, Ashlee Simpson (younger and lesser known sister of Jessica Simpson) was sitting smoky-eyed by the couch, raspy voiced, and serving it to us honest and straight up.

Cue music. “Living in the shadow of someone else’s dream, trying to find a hand to hold but every touch felt cold to me.” Admit it. Those lyrics are rapidly resurging into your memory banks, down your vocal cords and into the depths of your formerly adolescent soul. Some of you are probably making preparations as we speak to head to your nearest karaoke and let it all out on the microphone. “Living in a nightmare, a never-ending sleep. But now that I am wide awake, my chains are finally free.” Now that, Ashlee, is pop culture goldmine.

Shadow, the younger Simpson’s follow-up hit to Pieces of Me, had that brat pop, Stacie Orrico There’s Gotta Be More to Life turn of the millennium swing to it. Think Pink’s Just Like a Pill  — a song for the brokenhearted and a rallying cry for the misunderstood. But, dagger to my heart, were those lyrics spot on, pounding my average Gen-Y sensibilities on so many emotional layers. Seriously, those seven stanzas of pure perfection summarize the story of my life (so far). I couldn’t have sung it better myself. And so, to channel Ashlee on SNL, I will unearth all shame and emotional baggage and let it all out, if only as catharsis and goodbye to the sliver of my former self. Hey, if you can’t sing ‘em, you can always lip sync to ‘em right? Cue watermelon.

I Was Six Years Old, When My Parents Went Away

Let me tell you a lil’ something about myself. I’m 25 and I’ve been desperately trying to find my own place in the sun. It hasn’t been the easiest.

Being the son of a man who has done more for our country than I possibly could, and a woman whose charisma and good will has immortalized her as simply “Manay.” No, it hasn’t been the easiest. Such that even before “Once upon a time” could be written in the first chapters of “Chasing Toff,” there was already the glaring preface of family association precluding any of my would-be endeavors. After all, my last name isn’t a very uncommon one.

Of Venice, they say. Or better yet, from Venus. People are quick to make the assumption. “Ahhhh… so kaano-ano mo si Speaker?” Great. How do you railroad yourself out of that one without sounding like a total douche? So I concede, “Oh, he’s my dad!” Awkward kitty, paws on cheek, googly-eyed. Mood shifts, mostly for the better, hardly ever for the worse, for them at least. But for me, it’s a vacuum of meritocracy and anonymity down the drain. Any chance that I might prove myself capable of succeeding without any morsel of their help or influence vanished from the get-go.

She Was Beautiful…

And then there’s the matter of my media-savvy brother, who came into the world 10 years before I was born. He took up political science in Ateneo. So did I. We had the same teachers, we had the same passions, and somehow, “son of” evolved into “brother of.” Son of a b****.

He was awarded the first-ever A on this poli-sci elective we both took, at different time periods, of course, by my favorite teacher, also his favorite teacher — and his academic claim to fame. And, despite all my efforts, I got a B+. It was good, considering all the theater work that I had been doing outside of school, but not good enough for the scorecard of family legacy. And then my brother joined the world of publishing. He had a newspaper column too at some point, and writes pretty well — a track that I am currently pursuing, apart from directing. He eventually left to study in New York, in my dream school at that, graduated on top, and is back… with a vengeance!

She Had Everything And More…

Event A, with my editor friend in tow. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Toff!” I gleam at the prospect of making a new acquaintance.

My editor friend adds, almost forgetting, “Oh, he’s the brother of…” Person I’m introduced to warms up to me immediately. “Oh, you’re his brother? I love him! Is he still in New York? How is he?” That, or nowadays, “Oh, I was just with him…!” I smile, nodding, and seemingly lost in a haze of sociological defeat.

Event B, with another editor friend in tow. We are standing near a well-respected events director. “Oh, sorry, have the two of you met?” “No! Not yet,” I reply with anticipatory smile. Editor friend follows, “This is Toff.” I blurt out, “Hi. Oh, I’m the brother of…” as though it were, for the life of me, the only introduction I somehow knew how to make. According to my friend, I came off as sounding depressed about it. Was I?

Theory of relativity: In a place like Manila where your family’s influence is inescapable, all you can really do is do your best.

Event C, editor friend’s karaoke birthday bash. I come in late, post-gym. And the first thing that greets me is a jarring chorus of “Where’s your brother?” started by another friend and one of his workmates, which then segued to all my friends professing their collective love for him. I’m like, “Hello to you guys, too!” Seriously, I thought in this setting and his absence, he would be the “brother of.”

I Was Stuck Inside Someone Else’s Life, And Always Second Best

Come to think of it, I probably found myself in the arts because it was the one place that hadn’t yet been infiltrated or tainted by the influence of my parents and my brother combined. In JDV speak, it was my political bailiwick. Theater was my Pangasinan. Or in Lolo Pinggot’s terms, it was my Sampaguita Pictures. I was the actor. I was the director. I was the producer. No one else in my family could say the same.

I was the only De Venecia or Vera Perez doing it, and it felt good to me — though that’s not to say that their invisible hands hadn’t reached the two degrees of separation apparent in my field, or anywhere else in Manila for that matter. After all, my first employers (and mentors) are good friends of my folks, and some of my first friends in the industry, my brother (and sister’s) friends from way back. Oh yeah, there really is no escape.

After she released Shadow, Ashlee had a heart to heart with Jessica. The older Simpson was clearly the popular blonde being referenced in the music video, in the other room living her pretty life while Ashlee was looking on and bellowing in insecurity. Jessica was all of a sudden made aware of what her younger sister had been feeling all those years of growing up with her.

For the younger and edgier brunette, it was a song about living in the shadow of her blonde bombshell older sister (Seriously, you forget how hot Jessica was until you encounter her These Boots Are Made For Walking video again, probably in the karaoke machine). The confrontation opened the floodgates of emotion for Ashlee, which resulted in her healing and her finding her own place in the sun. I hope to find it too, sooner or later.

Mother, (Brother), Father. Everything’s Cool Now. Oh My Life Is Good

So what does one do if you can’t beat ‘em? No, not join ‘em. That would be defeatist! Turn to another chanteuse in the form of Adele for more words of wisdom. “Count your blessings to find what you look for.”

In a place like Manila where your family’s influence is inescapable, all you can really do is do your best. My first corporate employer would tell me on occasion, “You know, Toff, it’s one thing to get your foot in the door. It’s another thing to prove yourself, leave your own legacy, and make your own mark.” Yes, being the “son of” and “brother of” makes introductions faster and much easier but after that, it’s all about the hard work and good will that you sow for yourself. For more Adele: “Turn your sorrow into treasured gold. You’ll pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow.”

I’m hardly at the finish line but I believe I’m heading in the right direction. Instead of being defeated by the shadow cast by my family, I thought to myself, why not work my way around it? I don’t believe my parents and brother are savvy in the ways of Sutton Foster or Architecture in Helsinki. Those are things I can call my own. So yes, there is that tower of good will, casting a shadow on my edifice. But even good foundations need time to solidify, foster and come into their own.  

The “shadow” thing is something I joke about nowadays with my brother who calls me 10 times a day and is one of my best friends. I’m actually over it. For my parents, well, I’ve become a hyphenated introduction that they are finally proud to make to their friends and colleagues. I know that for a fact; otherwise, it’s not really something I care much about anymore. I’m doing my own thing and most importantly, doing myself proud. “I’m living in a new day, I’m living it for me.”