11.11.2004
good bits...
stuff to be happy about today/recently (in some kind of order):
* Mara - my adorable, artistic sister K has done it! i've been fantasizing about this weird comic strip for months (with various plots in my head) and she just went about and drew/graphic-ized it! she even said it was for me! how sweet :-) salamat, zistah, astig ka talaga :-)
* Jon! - got to talk to him for about 4 minutes today while i was in the aisles of healthy options. i liked his text today too. won't post it here but it was sweet, in a healthy options kind of way :-D
* Vaca - 14 beautiful days in January 2005. and there's a long weekend coming up. take that, corporate gods!
* Naks - djong thinks i make people think. wow! i am so complimentary by it. thanks lady dior :-)
* Go feet - have a serious shopping appointment with rustans this saturday. stone!
* Ooga - "La guerre du feu" aka The Quest for Fire is a 1981 movie that "stars" Ron Perlman. Will be showing in Alliance this November for FREEEEEEEE!!!! Ron darling, i will do anything to see you in a bahag in all your hairy, caveman glory. mood: kilig
MUSIC: Disco 2000 by Pulp (uh-huh...uh-huh...)
* Mara - my adorable, artistic sister K has done it! i've been fantasizing about this weird comic strip for months (with various plots in my head) and she just went about and drew/graphic-ized it! she even said it was for me! how sweet :-) salamat, zistah, astig ka talaga :-)
* Jon! - got to talk to him for about 4 minutes today while i was in the aisles of healthy options. i liked his text today too. won't post it here but it was sweet, in a healthy options kind of way :-D
* Vaca - 14 beautiful days in January 2005. and there's a long weekend coming up. take that, corporate gods!
* Naks - djong thinks i make people think. wow! i am so complimentary by it. thanks lady dior :-)
* Go feet - have a serious shopping appointment with rustans this saturday. stone!
* Ooga - "La guerre du feu" aka The Quest for Fire is a 1981 movie that "stars" Ron Perlman. Will be showing in Alliance this November for FREEEEEEEE!!!! Ron darling, i will do anything to see you in a bahag in all your hairy, caveman glory. mood: kilig
MUSIC: Disco 2000 by Pulp (uh-huh...uh-huh...)
altered states of connection
Ryan Gosling, who critics say had a such a wicked turn leading the cast of 2000’s indie fave The Believer, struggles for air to shine in last year’s The United States of Leland.
Though both films had their turn at Sundance, and even if I have yet to watch The Believer, US of L has an ambitious script that isn’t given justice by the treatment. One could say that cast and crew could have spent just two more extra weeks shooting and US of L would have been the powerhouse it was envisioned to be.
Leland P. Fitzgerald is an American teenager—a somewhat isolated, disenfrachised specimen who’s head always seems to be in the clouds. He’s not violent nor particularly harmful. He’s actually somewhat vacant, going about his teenaged business so simply and without bothering anyone that his community is dumbfounded when he kills his ex-girlfriend’s retarded half-brother. For the most part, they’re left cold thinking “how could he have done this when the autistic kid never connected emotionally to anyone, and thus, was never really “there”?”. How could this kid have mattered enough to be murdered?
The movie studies this in the now familiar mishmashed timeframe style, telling us about Leland’s bastard absentee of a dad (Kevin Spacey), the self-serving interest of his juvie teacher (Don Cheadle, as a frustrated writer smelling his “great novel” in his new ward), and confused (and confusing) ex-semi-girlfriend (Jena Malone).
What the film seems to want to say is that there’s not always a reason why people do the bad things they do. They might feel sorry but don’t always understand why or how it happened. And if they did, it’s because there’s no connection-to family, friends, lovers, the rest of the universe. This disparateness and ultimate isolation of everyone from everyone else is poorly explored and could easily have been the intellectual backbone the movie needs.
Cheadle and Gosling are easily the ones who give this movie its heart. It’s amazing how they carry this above water when it’s drowning in underdeveloped characters, subplots and too many philosophical meanderings. Gosling manages to imbue Leland with an innocence that is ultimately eerie. You wonder at all if what he did was crime or an act of mercy. His ability to disappear physically into the character is notable, providing an affecting voiceover and facial expression while trying to mirror the emotional and mental blankness (as differentiated from “vapidness”) of many a suburbia-raised and media-parented teenager. Cheadle, meanwhile, puts one over the vaunted Spacey in the bar scene. When Spacey’s character says of Cheadle’s, “That’s why you’re not a writer”, Cheadle retorts with a quick “No, that’s why I’m not a bastard”.
With decent editing, a dry but sometimes effective approach, the film seems to suffer only from taking too much time set context. The makers seem to have forgotten that they are making a movie and not a book, where readers have all the time to absorb much context.
The United States of Leland has its charms and manages to provoke reflection. Imagine, though, how mighty this would have been had the screenplay refused to pander to the writer’s sensibilities.
MUSIC: I Would Do Anything For Love (the melodramatic seven) by Meatloaf RARRR!!!
Though both films had their turn at Sundance, and even if I have yet to watch The Believer, US of L has an ambitious script that isn’t given justice by the treatment. One could say that cast and crew could have spent just two more extra weeks shooting and US of L would have been the powerhouse it was envisioned to be.
Leland P. Fitzgerald is an American teenager—a somewhat isolated, disenfrachised specimen who’s head always seems to be in the clouds. He’s not violent nor particularly harmful. He’s actually somewhat vacant, going about his teenaged business so simply and without bothering anyone that his community is dumbfounded when he kills his ex-girlfriend’s retarded half-brother. For the most part, they’re left cold thinking “how could he have done this when the autistic kid never connected emotionally to anyone, and thus, was never really “there”?”. How could this kid have mattered enough to be murdered?
The movie studies this in the now familiar mishmashed timeframe style, telling us about Leland’s bastard absentee of a dad (Kevin Spacey), the self-serving interest of his juvie teacher (Don Cheadle, as a frustrated writer smelling his “great novel” in his new ward), and confused (and confusing) ex-semi-girlfriend (Jena Malone).
What the film seems to want to say is that there’s not always a reason why people do the bad things they do. They might feel sorry but don’t always understand why or how it happened. And if they did, it’s because there’s no connection-to family, friends, lovers, the rest of the universe. This disparateness and ultimate isolation of everyone from everyone else is poorly explored and could easily have been the intellectual backbone the movie needs.
Cheadle and Gosling are easily the ones who give this movie its heart. It’s amazing how they carry this above water when it’s drowning in underdeveloped characters, subplots and too many philosophical meanderings. Gosling manages to imbue Leland with an innocence that is ultimately eerie. You wonder at all if what he did was crime or an act of mercy. His ability to disappear physically into the character is notable, providing an affecting voiceover and facial expression while trying to mirror the emotional and mental blankness (as differentiated from “vapidness”) of many a suburbia-raised and media-parented teenager. Cheadle, meanwhile, puts one over the vaunted Spacey in the bar scene. When Spacey’s character says of Cheadle’s, “That’s why you’re not a writer”, Cheadle retorts with a quick “No, that’s why I’m not a bastard”.
With decent editing, a dry but sometimes effective approach, the film seems to suffer only from taking too much time set context. The makers seem to have forgotten that they are making a movie and not a book, where readers have all the time to absorb much context.
The United States of Leland has its charms and manages to provoke reflection. Imagine, though, how mighty this would have been had the screenplay refused to pander to the writer’s sensibilities.
MUSIC: I Would Do Anything For Love (the melodramatic seven) by Meatloaf RARRR!!!
11.01.2004
boyo
It’s been more than a year since I last saw him. And in lieu of weeping because I miss him so much. I’m just gonna try and write.
They say that when you haven’t seen a person for a long time, you slowly forget things like how his laugh sounds like, did he have a mole, how he looks like exactly (especially when he laughs), smells, exact eye color, favorite expression, etc.
And I admit, this happens to me sometimes. It’s especially sad when I try to recall a good memory and he’s there alright, but getting a little fuzzy. I’m sure the same thing happens to him from time to time. But I guess I should be happy knowing that there Are memories I can still recall (even though I sometimes struggle with the details). Thank God for photographs!
It’s a fabulous opportunity, what he’s doing now, living in another country—working there and growing more as a person. But selfishly speaking, I wish we could be growing together. But you know how it is. You can’t get everything you want :-) I am consoled knowing that this is good for him, too.
Strangely enough, when I do dream about him. It’s very clear. It’s like he never left. His voice, his face, and how much taller he is than me are exactly as I remember them. And this gives me some comfort. At least subconsciously, he’s so much more than fuzzy (there’s a pun there somewhere…).
I miss Jon and the time we spend together. Dinner at his place with his folks (yummy! With dessert pa!), me being quiet… His hugs at the end of a stupid, annoying work day with eejits. Late night conversations about absolutely anything, challenging his tolerance for walking, even disagreeing with him, reminiscing about The LaSallian, wimming…
How does one measure missing someone?
There’s the 525,600 minutes, says the Rent musical. But my life isn’t as exciting. I’ve done many things, met so many interesting people, tried many new places, as well as some mundane, everyday things:
1. Seven theater screenings of Return of the King
2. Some 30 dancey group classes at the gym
3. Maybe 20 nights out with various friends
4. DVDs/VCDs bought: ROTK, Hellboy, Hero, Under the Tuscan Sun, Pirates of the Caribbean, Big Fish, Trainspotting, Ever After, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, The Crow, Man on the Moon, Natural Born Killers, Central Station, The Bicycle Thief, Chungking Express, City of Lost Children, Like Water for Chocolate, 28 Days Later, High Fidelity, City of God, Adam’s Family, A Very Brady Sequel, Dexter’s Laboratory, Tinseltown, Blade II, Aliens: Resurrection, Remember the Titans, etc.
5. Celebrity obsessions=2 (the hulkingly odd Ron Perlman, and hot actor Ryan Gosling)
6. Film festivals attended=3 (Cinemanila 2004, French Film Fest, Spanish Film Fest)
7. Pounds lost
8. Pounds gained
9. Dance concerts watched=2
10. Job interviews gone on=5
11. Trips to the beach=2
12. Facials=10
13. Massages=5
14. New clothes=anything that P10,000 can buy
15. Won a new cellphone
16. Hamsters that lived in my house=20+
17. One root canal
18. One biopsy
20. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera
Despite expanding my horizons, I also can’t help but wish that he was there with me too.
Sometimes, I would see a great-looking moon, and I point it out to nobody in particular.
Hee hee. He’s influenced me a lot, too, In my beliefs, the kind of person I am and would like to be, and even in the way I speak and write. At least these are remembrances too :-)
I miss Jon and how he will makes me happy. Even now, that he’s about 20,000 miles away, he still tries. After complaining how I’d like to be able to talk more often, he tries to call more often. He asks his family to send me flowers. He writes letters. Surprises me with little things and gifts. And I think I may be a very, very lucky gal. I am thoroughly grateful but they just don’t compare to his company and the knowledge that he’s nearby :-)
Here’s to both of us, boyo, Like you, I’m still fighting the good fight :-)
They say that when you haven’t seen a person for a long time, you slowly forget things like how his laugh sounds like, did he have a mole, how he looks like exactly (especially when he laughs), smells, exact eye color, favorite expression, etc.
And I admit, this happens to me sometimes. It’s especially sad when I try to recall a good memory and he’s there alright, but getting a little fuzzy. I’m sure the same thing happens to him from time to time. But I guess I should be happy knowing that there Are memories I can still recall (even though I sometimes struggle with the details). Thank God for photographs!
It’s a fabulous opportunity, what he’s doing now, living in another country—working there and growing more as a person. But selfishly speaking, I wish we could be growing together. But you know how it is. You can’t get everything you want :-) I am consoled knowing that this is good for him, too.
Strangely enough, when I do dream about him. It’s very clear. It’s like he never left. His voice, his face, and how much taller he is than me are exactly as I remember them. And this gives me some comfort. At least subconsciously, he’s so much more than fuzzy (there’s a pun there somewhere…).
I miss Jon and the time we spend together. Dinner at his place with his folks (yummy! With dessert pa!), me being quiet… His hugs at the end of a stupid, annoying work day with eejits. Late night conversations about absolutely anything, challenging his tolerance for walking, even disagreeing with him, reminiscing about The LaSallian, wimming…
How does one measure missing someone?
There’s the 525,600 minutes, says the Rent musical. But my life isn’t as exciting. I’ve done many things, met so many interesting people, tried many new places, as well as some mundane, everyday things:
1. Seven theater screenings of Return of the King
2. Some 30 dancey group classes at the gym
3. Maybe 20 nights out with various friends
4. DVDs/VCDs bought: ROTK, Hellboy, Hero, Under the Tuscan Sun, Pirates of the Caribbean, Big Fish, Trainspotting, Ever After, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, The Crow, Man on the Moon, Natural Born Killers, Central Station, The Bicycle Thief, Chungking Express, City of Lost Children, Like Water for Chocolate, 28 Days Later, High Fidelity, City of God, Adam’s Family, A Very Brady Sequel, Dexter’s Laboratory, Tinseltown, Blade II, Aliens: Resurrection, Remember the Titans, etc.
5. Celebrity obsessions=2 (the hulkingly odd Ron Perlman, and hot actor Ryan Gosling)
6. Film festivals attended=3 (Cinemanila 2004, French Film Fest, Spanish Film Fest)
7. Pounds lost
8. Pounds gained
9. Dance concerts watched=2
10. Job interviews gone on=5
11. Trips to the beach=2
12. Facials=10
13. Massages=5
14. New clothes=anything that P10,000 can buy
15. Won a new cellphone
16. Hamsters that lived in my house=20+
17. One root canal
18. One biopsy
20. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera
Despite expanding my horizons, I also can’t help but wish that he was there with me too.
Sometimes, I would see a great-looking moon, and I point it out to nobody in particular.
Hee hee. He’s influenced me a lot, too, In my beliefs, the kind of person I am and would like to be, and even in the way I speak and write. At least these are remembrances too :-)
I miss Jon and how he will makes me happy. Even now, that he’s about 20,000 miles away, he still tries. After complaining how I’d like to be able to talk more often, he tries to call more often. He asks his family to send me flowers. He writes letters. Surprises me with little things and gifts. And I think I may be a very, very lucky gal. I am thoroughly grateful but they just don’t compare to his company and the knowledge that he’s nearby :-)
Here’s to both of us, boyo, Like you, I’m still fighting the good fight :-)
reminiscing
GLORY DAYS
Spent my whole afternoon reading through old issues of The LaSallian, the course I took in college. And it’s an effective a vacation (if vacations can be called effective) as any.
Took me back to a time when I was writing or thinking or discussing 80% of the time, when I knew where I was going and how I would get there. Fact of the matter is, it was a time when I was actually already on the highway to my destination.
At some point after graduation, as my friend Roger would put it, I got steered somewhere into the cornfields.
Those were the good days, nah, the best days of my life. I felt purposeful, confident, pretty and just didn’t give a damn about everything else.
Who among my fellow TLS alumna could forget Paolo Ferrer as Rajah Dalanghita, Rape All wearing a banana costume, Toffer’s rendition of Kravitz’ “American Woman”, Jon’s perennial pressweek mothering, smuggling staffers to school overnights by literally hiding them under the table, 2am sojourns to 7-11, and yes, my early morning walks home with jon. Simple days indeed.
We didn’t have money, were a little undernourished, was under constant pressure and there was a ton of political-organizational-as well as romantic-drama, but looking back at it, all those days were incomparable.
I will always recall, with a very satisfied smile, how we pooled in resources to help someone out with his tuition fee, how we would all (silently) play the I’m-going-to-be-the-last-to-fall-asleep game, how we would cook yakisoba using a coffeemaker, laugh insanely like we were on drugs at ungodly hours of the night/morning, and all the stupid/smart things, pranks, and just stuff that would go on when you’re with a bunch of young irreverent people.
Not only do I miss the laughter and the passion. I also miss the constant companionship, the simple knowledge that you can just go to place and there would be backup in the form of a hug, a stupid joke, or a mock wrestling match.
The LaSallian is a place, as Carlo said, where many of us grew into who we are now.
It’s too bad that I lost that person for a long time when I went into the cornfields. I’m slowly recovering that chick now, although, there are some things which will remain changed.
And I’m not complaining, I’m a little quieter, but stronger now. A little less exciting and excitable, but a wee bit more mature. All in all, I’m sure I’ll still be the same person. And being able to still remember who I was helps a lot J
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
THE CORNFIELDS
My family got into a bit of tangle after I graduated. I blamed it for throwing me off track and scrambling to get whatever job I could to help out, without really thinking about the career I REALLY want.
After three years, there are still a lot of things unfinished, a lot of things we have to get over and I just know that it will never finish. Feelings have been hurt, words have been spoken and certain disappointments have made themselves obvious.
There will always be some measure of sadness and worry over security. What I’d like to know is why I’m beating myself with a flaming metal stick over it. Sure, two months ago, I may have been the only one with a regular salary, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be irresponsible too.
It’s unfair, really, but life is. I’ve always been sensible and responsible. I’m thinking I deserve to be the irresponsible this time. Have some stupid scary fun before I shrivel up and lose all sense of the fiery. Sometime before I turn 26, I’m going to be irresponsible too.
What’s sad, though, is my irresponsibility won’t spark anyone’s sense of commitment, in the same way that some people’s lack of ACTUAL (re: not theoretical, more than just words) responsibility has made me lose myself in the dreariest jobs ever.
Some people just don’t care enough to sacrifice anything for others. Some people.
But I know I shouldn’t begrudge them for it. Everyone has a right to pursue their passions, and they’re not KNOWINGLY doing it at my expense (Either that or they’re good actors). I guess, though, one can’t be blamed for hoping they take the initiative to think extra past themselves and their own dreams.
Ha! But maybe that’s much to ask.
Sure, I don’t need other people to act first before I do the stuff that I want to do. But I can’t help but worry, “What will happen?”, “Will they be ready to be back-up if I won’t?”, etc.
Times like these, you want to hate yourself and your life.
But, even though I am disappointed, I will try not to hate my life. If I can still get fat after that whole cornfields fracas, then I would like to believe… Yun.
Spent my whole afternoon reading through old issues of The LaSallian, the course I took in college. And it’s an effective a vacation (if vacations can be called effective) as any.
Took me back to a time when I was writing or thinking or discussing 80% of the time, when I knew where I was going and how I would get there. Fact of the matter is, it was a time when I was actually already on the highway to my destination.
At some point after graduation, as my friend Roger would put it, I got steered somewhere into the cornfields.
Those were the good days, nah, the best days of my life. I felt purposeful, confident, pretty and just didn’t give a damn about everything else.
Who among my fellow TLS alumna could forget Paolo Ferrer as Rajah Dalanghita, Rape All wearing a banana costume, Toffer’s rendition of Kravitz’ “American Woman”, Jon’s perennial pressweek mothering, smuggling staffers to school overnights by literally hiding them under the table, 2am sojourns to 7-11, and yes, my early morning walks home with jon. Simple days indeed.
We didn’t have money, were a little undernourished, was under constant pressure and there was a ton of political-organizational-as well as romantic-drama, but looking back at it, all those days were incomparable.
I will always recall, with a very satisfied smile, how we pooled in resources to help someone out with his tuition fee, how we would all (silently) play the I’m-going-to-be-the-last-to-fall-asleep game, how we would cook yakisoba using a coffeemaker, laugh insanely like we were on drugs at ungodly hours of the night/morning, and all the stupid/smart things, pranks, and just stuff that would go on when you’re with a bunch of young irreverent people.
Not only do I miss the laughter and the passion. I also miss the constant companionship, the simple knowledge that you can just go to place and there would be backup in the form of a hug, a stupid joke, or a mock wrestling match.
The LaSallian is a place, as Carlo said, where many of us grew into who we are now.
It’s too bad that I lost that person for a long time when I went into the cornfields. I’m slowly recovering that chick now, although, there are some things which will remain changed.
And I’m not complaining, I’m a little quieter, but stronger now. A little less exciting and excitable, but a wee bit more mature. All in all, I’m sure I’ll still be the same person. And being able to still remember who I was helps a lot J
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
THE CORNFIELDS
My family got into a bit of tangle after I graduated. I blamed it for throwing me off track and scrambling to get whatever job I could to help out, without really thinking about the career I REALLY want.
After three years, there are still a lot of things unfinished, a lot of things we have to get over and I just know that it will never finish. Feelings have been hurt, words have been spoken and certain disappointments have made themselves obvious.
There will always be some measure of sadness and worry over security. What I’d like to know is why I’m beating myself with a flaming metal stick over it. Sure, two months ago, I may have been the only one with a regular salary, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be irresponsible too.
It’s unfair, really, but life is. I’ve always been sensible and responsible. I’m thinking I deserve to be the irresponsible this time. Have some stupid scary fun before I shrivel up and lose all sense of the fiery. Sometime before I turn 26, I’m going to be irresponsible too.
What’s sad, though, is my irresponsibility won’t spark anyone’s sense of commitment, in the same way that some people’s lack of ACTUAL (re: not theoretical, more than just words) responsibility has made me lose myself in the dreariest jobs ever.
Some people just don’t care enough to sacrifice anything for others. Some people.
But I know I shouldn’t begrudge them for it. Everyone has a right to pursue their passions, and they’re not KNOWINGLY doing it at my expense (Either that or they’re good actors). I guess, though, one can’t be blamed for hoping they take the initiative to think extra past themselves and their own dreams.
Ha! But maybe that’s much to ask.
Sure, I don’t need other people to act first before I do the stuff that I want to do. But I can’t help but worry, “What will happen?”, “Will they be ready to be back-up if I won’t?”, etc.
Times like these, you want to hate yourself and your life.
But, even though I am disappointed, I will try not to hate my life. If I can still get fat after that whole cornfields fracas, then I would like to believe… Yun.
