Surprisingly enough, that's all for January. It's been three weeks, but all of a sudden it's over, and the next thing you know, we're seeing people holding big bunches of roses for the ones they love, again.
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1/31/2008
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Surprisingly enough, that's all for January. It's been three weeks, but all of a sudden it's over, and the next thing you know, we're seeing people holding big bunches of roses for the ones they love, again.
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1/30/2008
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When I was young, I had really curly hair. Looking back, it resembled the twister fries McDonald's occasionally sells, only dark and thin. The weird thing is, I don't know who I inherited it from, really. The weirder thing is, it didn't stay that way as I grew up.
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1/29/2008
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Thinking that they have annoyed him, Rozette and her classmates decided to write an apology letter. Although nothing bad really happened - he was just away, as was originally planned - they got chocolates.
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1/28/2008
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So this is how it feels when you're without classes on a Monday. I'm usually away from this computer at midday, but now I'm blogging, suddenly not used to staying at home at this time. I should be on a bus listening to the radio, or maybe eating a chocolate chip cookie while watching the young ones work on their minute of fame. Instead, I'm here, thanks to a free cut on my only class.
I was supposed to go to school today, however. Last night I was trying to call another prospect for our thesis - the one prospect all of us aim to get - and the phone, it seemed, has been turned off. Since I was already told a Monday screening is impossible with daylight around - in other words, she's available from seven in the evening onwards - I had to negotiate something new. But that meant I get a normal weekend, only shifted forward by a day.
Boredom meant I worked on the things you never really have to do, but feel like doing anyway. If you're reading this, then you've most probably noticed that I've moved a few things around the blog, and if you're paying even closer attention, you would've seen that there are two new faces on the links area.
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I was supposed to go to school today, however. Last night I was trying to call another prospect for our thesis - the one prospect all of us aim to get - and the phone, it seemed, has been turned off. Since I was already told a Monday screening is impossible with daylight around - in other words, she's available from seven in the evening onwards - I had to negotiate something new. But that meant I get a normal weekend, only shifted forward by a day.
Boredom meant I worked on the things you never really have to do, but feel like doing anyway. If you're reading this, then you've most probably noticed that I've moved a few things around the blog, and if you're paying even closer attention, you would've seen that there are two new faces on the links area.
Read more »
1/27/2008
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It's been five minutes since I clicked on "create post" and, five minutes later, I can't get myself to write anything. That's the surprising part, actually, not because I'm expecting myself to be able to write anything with the slightest of coercions, but because I actually have a trigger.
During film writing class, Sir Doy taught us about triggers. It was actually the very first thing he told us about that term - that we can't start anything without getting inspired by something. Most of the term would circulate around these triggers - a few lines off Nothing In My Way, a kid in the jeepney, a trip to the church, a classmate you're too fond of. Triggers are actually an easy escape - you can just look around you, get struck by something, and work around it. Probably the work-around-it part is the harder part, especially if you're a bit against clichés in your dialogue.
The trigger, however, is a classic lesson in writing, and one that never usually gets taught in class. The closest you'd hear to that concept is "write about something that you see," or "write about something that inspired you," and you'd then start writing on those pieces of intermediate pad paper, all those incoherent essays that you'd laugh at five years after.
Read more »
During film writing class, Sir Doy taught us about triggers. It was actually the very first thing he told us about that term - that we can't start anything without getting inspired by something. Most of the term would circulate around these triggers - a few lines off Nothing In My Way, a kid in the jeepney, a trip to the church, a classmate you're too fond of. Triggers are actually an easy escape - you can just look around you, get struck by something, and work around it. Probably the work-around-it part is the harder part, especially if you're a bit against clichés in your dialogue.
The trigger, however, is a classic lesson in writing, and one that never usually gets taught in class. The closest you'd hear to that concept is "write about something that you see," or "write about something that inspired you," and you'd then start writing on those pieces of intermediate pad paper, all those incoherent essays that you'd laugh at five years after.
Read more »
1/26/2008
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If you're convincing yourself that something is over until you finally believe that it is over, then it obviously isn't over.
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1/24/2008
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The moment it happened, I was a mix of freak-out and extra-excited.
Funny thinking that, a few days ago, it merely occurred to me on a bus ride. Not that everything's over, but dormant is a better term - asleep, passed for dead. Usually volcanoes like this surprise when it's least expected, or in some cases, would make a fuss before finally venting on an unsuspecting population. The same thing happened tonight - it brewed before it spewed.
After six call attempts, I finally got through. Maybe fate was pulling a trick on me, and on everybody else - I never even managed to hear even a busy tone on the first three days. The phone blinked in my favor for six times tonight, and it finally got picked up on the last. My signal was scratchy and nobody was understanding anybody, until I said it was me on the other end.
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Funny thinking that, a few days ago, it merely occurred to me on a bus ride. Not that everything's over, but dormant is a better term - asleep, passed for dead. Usually volcanoes like this surprise when it's least expected, or in some cases, would make a fuss before finally venting on an unsuspecting population. The same thing happened tonight - it brewed before it spewed.
After six call attempts, I finally got through. Maybe fate was pulling a trick on me, and on everybody else - I never even managed to hear even a busy tone on the first three days. The phone blinked in my favor for six times tonight, and it finally got picked up on the last. My signal was scratchy and nobody was understanding anybody, until I said it was me on the other end.
Read more »
1/21/2008
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There's something with Kahit Kailan. That's the song that reminds me of Ale, up until now. Back in our freshman year we'd sing this to her in an attempt to make her cry, because, well, she claims that song makes her cry. What used to be a symbol of mushiness became something lighter.
I don't really hear that song now. Whatever happened to South Border is something else, basically because I haven't any idea either. The same goes for Ale, who I have seen only after two full weeks of classes.
That's why it's sometimes fun to rediscover a bit about the past we sort of shared. Most have forgotten about that stage, and many more things have happened after that. Eventually I have forgotten about all the other details in between, because people come and go, and even if they're still there, they manage to go away without you even noticing.
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I don't really hear that song now. Whatever happened to South Border is something else, basically because I haven't any idea either. The same goes for Ale, who I have seen only after two full weeks of classes.
That's why it's sometimes fun to rediscover a bit about the past we sort of shared. Most have forgotten about that stage, and many more things have happened after that. Eventually I have forgotten about all the other details in between, because people come and go, and even if they're still there, they manage to go away without you even noticing.
Read more »
1/19/2008
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Thanks to the rehabilitation of the Alabang viaduct, I waited for an extra hour before we finally began our location survey. Yas knew her way - she was driving out of love for my thesis partners - but got lost after seeing scaffolding on what used to be a proud bit of infrastructure. The exits got rearranged, a fact that I very much knew. What else can I do?
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1/17/2008
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Ubiquity kills, and so does unfamiliarity. Have one, or the other, or both, and we're in trouble.
Thursdays are slowly becoming pretty unexciting. For one, my tendency to cram has maxed out on this day, and I end up doing nothing on Friday, forgetting everything on Saturday, and panicking the next week. The only notable thing that happened is a detail-by-detail impromptu reenactment of what happened last Thursday, and then, once everything is over, well, it's over.
Maybe it's also a surprise that Alyssa decided to talk to me, and not the other way around. She's been complaining about the cruel realities of her life - that those who prefer ubiquity would get it better than the dedicated ones. "I want money, money, moneeeeeh," she typed in. "I shouldn't have saved up for that ubiquitous Starbucks planner."
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Thursdays are slowly becoming pretty unexciting. For one, my tendency to cram has maxed out on this day, and I end up doing nothing on Friday, forgetting everything on Saturday, and panicking the next week. The only notable thing that happened is a detail-by-detail impromptu reenactment of what happened last Thursday, and then, once everything is over, well, it's over.
Maybe it's also a surprise that Alyssa decided to talk to me, and not the other way around. She's been complaining about the cruel realities of her life - that those who prefer ubiquity would get it better than the dedicated ones. "I want money, money, moneeeeeh," she typed in. "I shouldn't have saved up for that ubiquitous Starbucks planner."
Read more »
1/16/2008
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1/14/2008
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They say surrounding yourself with younger people makes you feel young as well. Of course, that effect varies with the circumstances - either you feel young and positive about it, or you feel young and achingly childish.
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1/10/2008
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If there's one radio listening habit that actually changed as I pursued my college studies, aside from almost entirely shunning pop music - ironically - it's Chris Tsuper and Nicole Hyala. Before I'd go through Mo Twister's show and chuckle once or twice, with the preconception that anything that the station he's in exudes the culture of cool. Now I spend my mornings listening to either The Big Breakfast Show on Jam or Trish on NU, but once it's half past seven, off I go to the radio station which most of the upper classes wouldn't ever want to listen to, or God forbid, discuss.
But that's why I'm a semi-regular listener. Never mind the two encounters I've had with the pair - I find the program interesting, simply put. It also helps that, as communication arts students, we've discussed their programming and tried to decipher their appeal, and now I've gone beyond understanding that. If you find me in school at this time, with earphones on, and very quiet - unless I'm laughing - then blame these two.
I was walking across Gokongwei when the show finally began. "Yup yup yup!" Chris - otherwise Adrian Policena, a name we'd know, especially considering they were on one Media Speakers Series talk - would begin the show, and you'd see a tight-lipped me finding a seat. I found myself on one bench at SJ Walk, on an fairly empty campus, and it's just the three of us, and the anecdotes they'll share with the world.
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But that's why I'm a semi-regular listener. Never mind the two encounters I've had with the pair - I find the program interesting, simply put. It also helps that, as communication arts students, we've discussed their programming and tried to decipher their appeal, and now I've gone beyond understanding that. If you find me in school at this time, with earphones on, and very quiet - unless I'm laughing - then blame these two.
I was walking across Gokongwei when the show finally began. "Yup yup yup!" Chris - otherwise Adrian Policena, a name we'd know, especially considering they were on one Media Speakers Series talk - would begin the show, and you'd see a tight-lipped me finding a seat. I found myself on one bench at SJ Walk, on an fairly empty campus, and it's just the three of us, and the anecdotes they'll share with the world.
Read more »
1/09/2008
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"I was gonna say that fifty-two weeks is a long time... and then I remembered na fifty-two weeks lang talaga."
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1/08/2008
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It's obvious our final output for investigative journalism class is, well, an investigative report. For documentary film class, well, it's not an actual documentary, but more of a concept for one. Research-based, nevertheless, but it's one down of sorts.
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1/07/2008
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I did read it in the publications last year. They plan to rehabilitate South Gate, which means when I went down from the bus, crossed Taft Avenue and went past the other establishments, all I see is a closed gate and scaffolding.
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1/06/2008
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"Which is?" I asked Mae.
"I forgot," she laughed back. "We'll know tomorrow."
"Paano ngayon yan," I answered. "I shall be behind. You know law, I don't..."
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"I forgot," she laughed back. "We'll know tomorrow."
"Paano ngayon yan," I answered. "I shall be behind. You know law, I don't..."
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1/05/2008
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"Don't mind the camera," she told him. "Photographs are nothing without the memory that you associate with it." He took another croissant.
She'd not admit that she's very lovable, and yet everybody around her loves her. She'd only say she's doing her job, although most don't really see it as one; rather, for them, it's a way of her being lovable. The two met on a prayer, on a day when he wasn't sure on where to go, and landed where he never expected to the most. But he never tried to conceal the bond that formed despite the short time they have spent together. He was somehow urged to tell her his problems, even if he knows that he shouldn't. She's a busy girl, after all.
But somehow she was always there. The two never met for a long time after the first conversation - a fact that he didn't worry about - but he just kept on writing her, and she kept on replying. It was that way for the next few months. It never bothered him if it the correspondence was sporadic - besides, he knows that she's busy, and he knows that he's busy - but it bothered him that he had a bond going.
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She'd not admit that she's very lovable, and yet everybody around her loves her. She'd only say she's doing her job, although most don't really see it as one; rather, for them, it's a way of her being lovable. The two met on a prayer, on a day when he wasn't sure on where to go, and landed where he never expected to the most. But he never tried to conceal the bond that formed despite the short time they have spent together. He was somehow urged to tell her his problems, even if he knows that he shouldn't. She's a busy girl, after all.
But somehow she was always there. The two never met for a long time after the first conversation - a fact that he didn't worry about - but he just kept on writing her, and she kept on replying. It was that way for the next few months. It never bothered him if it the correspondence was sporadic - besides, he knows that she's busy, and he knows that he's busy - but it bothered him that he had a bond going.
Read more »
1/04/2008
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Call me very uptight, or very bored, but the words "join us" have been etched in my head for most of today. Blame it on four hours of coverage on the Iowa caucuses, which I watched with the intent of understanding democracy as our former colonizers intended us to do. Every candidate whose speech got aired continued to rally their supporters - and, hopefully, the rest of the United States - to their cause, especially when you think of Tuesday, and New Hampshire.
Volunteerism sounds very plausible, doesn't it? These politicians rely on volunteers to get things done, either by hands holding papers or hands holding papers with value (or, in other words, money - lots of it). With (their vision of) a future at stake, everybody is united by one single cause, and they hopefully get things done regardless of the result. Only politics is a bit limited when it comes to results, or at least that's what I get from the way things are done here.
But this entry isn't about politics, especially when you think that I'm not supposed to think about politics until a couple of months later. My mind has been doodling with volunteerism lately - and no, not of the noble kind, the kind that exudes altruism, puzzles psychologists, and yet claim to provide people with the happiest happiness. I was thinking more of the social kind, the one that compels people to get themselves engaged even if there isn't really any big noble cause involved. You know, stuff like starting a conversation.
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Volunteerism sounds very plausible, doesn't it? These politicians rely on volunteers to get things done, either by hands holding papers or hands holding papers with value (or, in other words, money - lots of it). With (their vision of) a future at stake, everybody is united by one single cause, and they hopefully get things done regardless of the result. Only politics is a bit limited when it comes to results, or at least that's what I get from the way things are done here.
But this entry isn't about politics, especially when you think that I'm not supposed to think about politics until a couple of months later. My mind has been doodling with volunteerism lately - and no, not of the noble kind, the kind that exudes altruism, puzzles psychologists, and yet claim to provide people with the happiest happiness. I was thinking more of the social kind, the one that compels people to get themselves engaged even if there isn't really any big noble cause involved. You know, stuff like starting a conversation.
Read more »
1/03/2008
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Boredom beckons, and I find myself watching a channel I don't usually watch. It's a rerun, a fact made obvious by the fact that the channel has cut some parts of the game, but it's still intact to tell me that one team is ahead two sets to one, but the lagging team is ahead on the fourth. My eyes were trained on the girl - a tall one, with the number nine on her back, tossing the ball, two arms seemingly in flight, and finally hitting the object in question with the left, if I remember correctly. Play commences, and I don't see number nine anymore.
It was my first time to watch Celine play on television. I wasn't really able to catch any of the Shakey's V-League games on television, mostly because it's on when I'm in class (and when she isn't). Lately the UAAP games were also televised, and the first I wasn't able to catch because I didn't even know about it; I only heard from Leslie two days later, with the sad news of defeat. Celine told me about the second but I never got to watch it. I never knew if they won, but I'm implying they did. "Pero 'twas a good game!" she'd reply to my concession.
I eventually proved my theory correct - Celine's hair, tied back, still had the red streak that surprised most of us when she first had it. She used to have really long hair, until she had to cut it, but her coach allowed the team to get it dyed. Two terms later, the red has somewhat vanished, and although her hair hasn't grown back - obviously - we've grown accustomed to it. For some reason it adds to the sense of vulnerability, as if she needs it, or we need to put one on her. Besides, these girls are tall, as the frantic female sportscaster was saying.
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It was my first time to watch Celine play on television. I wasn't really able to catch any of the Shakey's V-League games on television, mostly because it's on when I'm in class (and when she isn't). Lately the UAAP games were also televised, and the first I wasn't able to catch because I didn't even know about it; I only heard from Leslie two days later, with the sad news of defeat. Celine told me about the second but I never got to watch it. I never knew if they won, but I'm implying they did. "Pero 'twas a good game!" she'd reply to my concession.
I eventually proved my theory correct - Celine's hair, tied back, still had the red streak that surprised most of us when she first had it. She used to have really long hair, until she had to cut it, but her coach allowed the team to get it dyed. Two terms later, the red has somewhat vanished, and although her hair hasn't grown back - obviously - we've grown accustomed to it. For some reason it adds to the sense of vulnerability, as if she needs it, or we need to put one on her. Besides, these girls are tall, as the frantic female sportscaster was saying.
Read more »
1/01/2008
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I have actually forgotten how long our term breaks are during the holiday season. I mean, it apparently can stretch to three weeks, which is welcomed especially by our tattered psyches. I guess we've gotten used to the idea that vacations do not exist in DLSU, or we're just a very demanding bunch of students.
And yes, although six days seem so long, it wouldn't be enough. I still have the urge to cuddle up on a comfortable bed and sleep the days away, especially now that we've come home from Hong Kong. Now that I have thought of it, I wonder why we find the urge to prepare excessively for a vacation and get tired in the process, when all we want is to escape stress in the first place. Everybody at home slept through the fireworks except me - and I slept nine hours afterwards. And I didn't want to wake up.
Six days do seem so long. You tend to reserve tasks for the next day - a leftover of the procrastination we've done so well during classes - and, when the last of the free days arrives, we shrug the thought and decide to do better on the next opportunity, which comes, well, a long time after the last one.
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And yes, although six days seem so long, it wouldn't be enough. I still have the urge to cuddle up on a comfortable bed and sleep the days away, especially now that we've come home from Hong Kong. Now that I have thought of it, I wonder why we find the urge to prepare excessively for a vacation and get tired in the process, when all we want is to escape stress in the first place. Everybody at home slept through the fireworks except me - and I slept nine hours afterwards. And I didn't want to wake up.
Six days do seem so long. You tend to reserve tasks for the next day - a leftover of the procrastination we've done so well during classes - and, when the last of the free days arrives, we shrug the thought and decide to do better on the next opportunity, which comes, well, a long time after the last one.
Read more »
Niko Batallones writes The Upper Blog.
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