Here are the numbers which defined the past year for me:
1249 student papers read*
73 movies watched
52 books bought
41 books read
3 ATM cards swallowed by machine, stolen
3 out of town trips
3 computer f*ck ups
2 locked out of office moments
2 doppelgangers
1 bag snatching incident
1 survived truck-jeep collision
1 out of the country trip
1 Team Angas wedding
1 naked guy outside office window
*Rough estimate based on class density and requirements.
Friday, December 31
Tuesday, December 28
Sarongs on the sand
Lazy day at the beach
Originally uploaded by butasnachucks.
My friends and I spent a day at the beach before the news about the tsunami scared the beejeezus out of us. It was lazy afternoon fun for everyone. Can you guess which sarong is mine?
I say tsunami, you say tsunamu.
The Sisterhood of the Socks, our usual group of backpacker girls and boy (just one boy per trip, and this crucial role is raffled off, natch), had to abandon our beach adventure because we got word of The Big One which killed and affected an approximated 26,000 people.
It was quite sunny when we got there yesterday morning. We spent the afternoon lounging around on the sand. We even ran into a friend on holiday at the other side of the island. Then Ms. Lear texted us to say that a "0.9" aftershock hit Davao already. This started a geeky joke involving the singular and plural forms of tsunami. Then there's the theory that we can't be affected because the Philippines supposedly occupies a different tectonic plate than from the one which rocked the rest of South Asia. This discussion caused one of the girls to fall asleep inspite of the theatrics of a reggae man we shall dub EC-esque.
Then clouds started to get heavy, and the way the wind howled wasn't exactly encouraging. We packed up this morning, even if it was very tempting to stay. Better be safe than be eaten up alive by a tsunamu.
More later.
UPDATE: Here are photos courtesy of BnC's flickr. Although the SotS has more cameras than there are people, I sadly belong to the non-camera toting part of the party. But am hoping to improve that by next year. The key word is "hope."
It was quite sunny when we got there yesterday morning. We spent the afternoon lounging around on the sand. We even ran into a friend on holiday at the other side of the island. Then Ms. Lear texted us to say that a "0.9" aftershock hit Davao already. This started a geeky joke involving the singular and plural forms of tsunami. Then there's the theory that we can't be affected because the Philippines supposedly occupies a different tectonic plate than from the one which rocked the rest of South Asia. This discussion caused one of the girls to fall asleep inspite of the theatrics of a reggae man we shall dub EC-esque.
Then clouds started to get heavy, and the way the wind howled wasn't exactly encouraging. We packed up this morning, even if it was very tempting to stay. Better be safe than be eaten up alive by a tsunamu.
More later.
UPDATE: Here are photos courtesy of BnC's flickr. Although the SotS has more cameras than there are people, I sadly belong to the non-camera toting part of the party. But am hoping to improve that by next year. The key word is "hope."
Thursday, December 23
Too much WKW can kill you.
Spent most of today hiding under bedcovers, surfing, gorging down food, and staring at my suddenly luminous hands against my dark bedroom wall. Finally, in the late afternoon, I texted BnC.
I cursed the heavens for my inability to do anything substantial, BnC merely said it's "atropy. You've been watching too much Wong Kar Wai. Kailangan mo maarawan."
Watching WKW movies does that to you. If your life became a WKW movie, you'd be positively gorgeous, but eternally trapped in the same vacuum of exponential pain. Before I actually attempted to eat expired canned pineapples, she informed me she's been splurging her Christmas money at the big NBS in Cubao, so of course I just had to go. Must have arrived there in record time, like say, an hour or so from our initial sms exchange. (Which is really a huge improvement from my previous heartwrenching record.)
We ended up splurging for more books than we could actually read. BnC had to call in her sister for reinforcement. All in all, we spent a huge sum of money which could have gone to purchasing necessary things like a teflon pan, or maybe cough syrup for me. But am happy with the purchases we made. I plan to go back there when I scrounge around enough money.
Had dinner at the local Taco Bell. Their burrito lacks rice (phooey!) and the store itself doesn't even carry ketsup, just hot sauce, which looks like it was swiped from the Pizza Hut branch down the road. I demand rice in my burrito! But still a good day, after all.
I cursed the heavens for my inability to do anything substantial, BnC merely said it's "atropy. You've been watching too much Wong Kar Wai. Kailangan mo maarawan."
Watching WKW movies does that to you. If your life became a WKW movie, you'd be positively gorgeous, but eternally trapped in the same vacuum of exponential pain. Before I actually attempted to eat expired canned pineapples, she informed me she's been splurging her Christmas money at the big NBS in Cubao, so of course I just had to go. Must have arrived there in record time, like say, an hour or so from our initial sms exchange. (Which is really a huge improvement from my previous heartwrenching record.)
We ended up splurging for more books than we could actually read. BnC had to call in her sister for reinforcement. All in all, we spent a huge sum of money which could have gone to purchasing necessary things like a teflon pan, or maybe cough syrup for me. But am happy with the purchases we made. I plan to go back there when I scrounge around enough money.
Had dinner at the local Taco Bell. Their burrito lacks rice (phooey!) and the store itself doesn't even carry ketsup, just hot sauce, which looks like it was swiped from the Pizza Hut branch down the road. I demand rice in my burrito! But still a good day, after all.
Wednesday, December 22
You are Nicolas Cage
This is #5, swiped from Markmomukhamo's post about McSweeney's very helpful Guide to Determine if You are in a Jerry Bruckheimer Movie.
Some weeks back, I dragged my mother to the cinema so we could watch Santa-Santita. I had tried valiantly to watch this movie*. Unfortunately, in the papers that day was a small item about how the censors board wanted to pull it out because they showed implied nudity: while they didn't show the female lead really naked, they did have a scene wherein the male lead was taking off her skirt, her blouse and other articles of clothing. Which means, yes, folks, she must be naked at the end of the scene.
So my mother refused to watch the movie. I wanted to tell her, "Inay naman, singkwenta na kayo, you lived through Martial Law and at least seven Philippine presidents, mako-corrupt pa ba kayo nyan?" But, of course, that went unsaid and offered other options which included The Incredibles and some other movie. But she picked National Treasure, which was showing in a theater at the other side of the mall, so we made a run for it and entered just as the credits were beginning for the last full show.
National Treasure was like watching X-treme! History class for Fifth Graders, made more exciting by clues at the back of paper bills! Secret Societies! An uber cute museum curator who could be a model! And most of all, an underground tunnel straight out of a Nancy Drew mystery!
It's like watching the Da Vinci Code, only with more historical monuments. And I haven't even read the darn book. By the time we got out of the theater, I told my mother we could make a Philippine version that involves the mystery cat at the spire of the Barasoain Church, the Bonifacio-Mabini shared billing, the Golden Buddha, the Yamashita Treasure and the soldiers guarding the Rizal monument at Luneta. There would be chase scenes in the underground passages at Intramuros, culminating in an explosion near the Pasig River Malacanang boat landing and the discovery of a cave of amassed treasures of corruption! It would star Vhong Navarro, with cameos from all the big name stars and Kuya Germs! It would be called Philippine National Treasure! I wouldn't be surprised if some movie executive has pitched the idea already.
Star Cinema, are you listening?
*My last attempt was this last weekend. Star Mall was the only theater in town still showing it, but a quick consultation with a friend discouraged me from watching it there, alone, lest I go home with not just surot bites but something more, uhm, unsavory.
Some weeks back, I dragged my mother to the cinema so we could watch Santa-Santita. I had tried valiantly to watch this movie*. Unfortunately, in the papers that day was a small item about how the censors board wanted to pull it out because they showed implied nudity: while they didn't show the female lead really naked, they did have a scene wherein the male lead was taking off her skirt, her blouse and other articles of clothing. Which means, yes, folks, she must be naked at the end of the scene.
So my mother refused to watch the movie. I wanted to tell her, "Inay naman, singkwenta na kayo, you lived through Martial Law and at least seven Philippine presidents, mako-corrupt pa ba kayo nyan?" But, of course, that went unsaid and offered other options which included The Incredibles and some other movie. But she picked National Treasure, which was showing in a theater at the other side of the mall, so we made a run for it and entered just as the credits were beginning for the last full show.
National Treasure was like watching X-treme! History class for Fifth Graders, made more exciting by clues at the back of paper bills! Secret Societies! An uber cute museum curator who could be a model! And most of all, an underground tunnel straight out of a Nancy Drew mystery!
It's like watching the Da Vinci Code, only with more historical monuments. And I haven't even read the darn book. By the time we got out of the theater, I told my mother we could make a Philippine version that involves the mystery cat at the spire of the Barasoain Church, the Bonifacio-Mabini shared billing, the Golden Buddha, the Yamashita Treasure and the soldiers guarding the Rizal monument at Luneta. There would be chase scenes in the underground passages at Intramuros, culminating in an explosion near the Pasig River Malacanang boat landing and the discovery of a cave of amassed treasures of corruption! It would star Vhong Navarro, with cameos from all the big name stars and Kuya Germs! It would be called Philippine National Treasure! I wouldn't be surprised if some movie executive has pitched the idea already.
Star Cinema, are you listening?
*My last attempt was this last weekend. Star Mall was the only theater in town still showing it, but a quick consultation with a friend discouraged me from watching it there, alone, lest I go home with not just surot bites but something more, uhm, unsavory.
Tuesday, December 21
Super Inday and the Golden Bibe
What better way to spend your lunch hour than to watch Super Inday and the Golden Bibe. It's one of the more campier superhero movies of the 80s starring Maricel Soriano. The film is unlisted in IMDb, so I'm not really sure what year this is from. But the very young Aiza Seguerra is there, dating this from perhaps a while after her Little Miss Philippines tilt.
Maricel Soriano appears as yet another regular Inday with a secret identity. She has previously appeared in movies like Inday Bote with Richard Gomez and Inday, Inday sa Balitaw with Matet de Leon. While there is no known narrative link to the three Inday films except that they all involve magical transformations, they were all directed by Chaning Carlos.
In this particular Inday incarnation, Maricel finds herself the talking Golden Bibe in the title. The duck, who can also transform itself into a little girl then dubbed Snow White, lays eggs which then gives the bearer magical powers to transform and do good. Very much reminiscent of that tale about the goose who lays eggs, evil people were soon after the Golden Bibe. Meanwhile, Inday enjoys her popularity, but still moons after The Guy She Loves From a Distance, a photographer played by Eric Quizon with ugly, oversized spectacles. As in all superhero types with secret identities, the objects of their desires never quite recognize them when not garbed with cape and spandex overwear. At one point he even asks, "Bakit di ko naisip na ikaw si Super Inday?" Kasi, you're blind, you dimwit. But to which Inday replies, "I'm sorry pero ang kabutihan hindi pina-publicize."
Another exchange I liked was when one of the younger loveteams serving as subplots, played by Janno and Manilyn in their hairspray days, had this exchange:
Boy: Mahal kita umaga tanghali gabi.If that hilarity still didn't get to you, try this one, wherein Inday even paraphrased Ate Guy, "Ang tunay na magic ay galing sa puso." O di ba, bongga? You got to give them snaps for all the snappy dialogue.
Girl: Sige, managinip ka umaga tanghali gabi.
The film also comes with the requisite song and dance number, this time going uber retro with 50s kundimans like "May Isang Binata Akong Iniibig."
Evil doers go after the Golden Bibe, thinking it could lay more eggs. Even momentary greed subsumes Inday. When prodded to give Inday the powers to transform because the guy she loves is in danger, Snow White answers, "Ano ang akala mo sa akin, Araneta Coliseum?"
But all's well that ends well. And the previously talking Golden Bibe from another planet transforms into a real live girl. The Bibe as Aiza Seguerra then bids them farewell as she would return to her home--her "bayan." They ask, Saan ba bayan mo? She points way out there, "Doon sa bayan ng Pag-ibig."
O di ba, di lang campy dialogue. May concept pa of nation. Charing. Do not over read. Super Inday and the Golden Bibe is just good afternoon movie fun.
UPDATE: For more supercampfun, Super Inday is listed in Superheroes Lives! (uhm, yes). We are told to "[t]hink of it as Darna with a cape, and a sense of humor." Don't forget to check out the fun lists, where everything about Super Inday is virtually unknown. She is also at the International list of Superheroes, where she joins the fine company of Darna, Panday, and the other komiks based crusaders from the Philippines.
Meanwhile, also check out this Inq7 article about the Pinoy Justice League, if only to brush up on Pinoy superheroes before you hit the Metro Manila Film Festival on Saturday.
Sunday, December 19
Lantern Parade
There's a piece about the Lantern Parade in today's Inquirer. While it talked about the participants and the College of Fine Arts' inclusion in the Hall of Fame, the writer Tina Santos also said that the CFA's floats this year had "unfamiliar" figures in Philippine myths, "among them the "bangungot" ( a large woman that pounds on a sleeping person's chest till he or she can't breathe), the "bungisngis" ( a laughing one-eyed giant with tusks who picked up and threw carabaos at whim), and the "bakunawa" (a dragon-like creature who occasionally gobbled up the sun, causing an eclipse)."
Uhm, okay. But they must have "heard" of bangungot killings, right? Or perhaps people never thought of visualizing the bangungot before. People just think of it as some shapeless, faceless thing that kills people in their sleep.
Interesting bits though about previous practices in the university like the now obsolete Hay Ride and Parade King and Queen.
Also, there are photos from the parade from BnC and psychicpants.
Uhm, okay. But they must have "heard" of bangungot killings, right? Or perhaps people never thought of visualizing the bangungot before. People just think of it as some shapeless, faceless thing that kills people in their sleep.
Interesting bits though about previous practices in the university like the now obsolete Hay Ride and Parade King and Queen.
Also, there are photos from the parade from BnC and psychicpants.
Rebel Sell tells us how we can never escape consumerism. That while we think we have distinguished ourselves from the SUV-driving, Nike wearing, outdoor-vacationing throng, we actually just reenacting the same desires, only more expensively. By elevating our own tastes from that of mass society, we are only serving the machines of consumerism even more.
Rebel Sell insists that a "critique of consumerism," as exhibited in films like Fight Club and American Beauty, is actually just a "restatement of the critique of mass society." The two are not the same, although people tend to confuse the two. While Fight Club tells us the way to beat the machine is to blow it up, American Beauty encourages us to subvert it from within. And yet, both ways still end up serving the machine god of consumerism.
How did this happen?
Because capitalism is so embedded in our culture that our institutions have shaped us to have the same education, encourages conformity of desires, sexual repression and consumption. We create our distinctions by becoming more discriminating and sophisticated, often preferring the rarer, more expensive variety. Those who profess to not care about brands are actually more brand-conscious. In this kind of game, "anti-consumerism" is only a stance wherein we buy our distinction through positional goods.
So in the end, we are still our f*cking khakis after all.
Rebel Sell insists that a "critique of consumerism," as exhibited in films like Fight Club and American Beauty, is actually just a "restatement of the critique of mass society." The two are not the same, although people tend to confuse the two. While Fight Club tells us the way to beat the machine is to blow it up, American Beauty encourages us to subvert it from within. And yet, both ways still end up serving the machine god of consumerism.
How did this happen?
Because capitalism is so embedded in our culture that our institutions have shaped us to have the same education, encourages conformity of desires, sexual repression and consumption. We create our distinctions by becoming more discriminating and sophisticated, often preferring the rarer, more expensive variety. Those who profess to not care about brands are actually more brand-conscious. In this kind of game, "anti-consumerism" is only a stance wherein we buy our distinction through positional goods.
So in the end, we are still our f*cking khakis after all.
Saturday, December 18
2046 is my new address*
2046 isn't something that goes down the throat easily. For one, it is not linear, and there are a lot of things that need explaining. Like when Chow said that that was the last time he saw Zhang Ziyi, and then they met up again. What the hell was that? I saw the film with a couple of friends who hadn't exactly seen all of Wong Kar Wai's movies, which made it a bit difficult because the film refers to the previous films, particularly In the Mood for Love and Days of Being Wild.
But what I like though is that it resonates and echoes. That all memory is pain, and pain is memory and remembrance. That the Tony Leung character made an unexplained appearance at the end of Days of Being Wild. That it seemed like an afterthought--him standing in front of a mirror, combing back slick hair, cigarettes and shadows. That when we saw him again in In the Mood for Love, he had this unconsummated (was it really?) affair with Maggie Cheung, which explains the recurring taxi sequences, but this time with covert hand actions. That this affair probably left him hurt, but he didn't want anyone to know that so he whispered his secret into a hole in a tree and sealed it in mud. So that when 2046 rolled along, everyone had secret pains that they had to release. Even the android with delayed reaction tries to whisper her own secrets. The repetition of action haunts you.
Part of me understands why Chow became such a cad. That love is all about timing. It was heartbreaking to watch Zhang Ziyi and her throve of tens stashed in a canister under the bed. Or when that lady talks out loud in Japanese in the next room, how they can't get together. If you think about it, if you're a character in a Wong Kar Wai movie and you fall in love, that affair is doomed.
So what is this film saying? You're not going to get your happy ending. That we're probably all doomed to live and process the same pain over and over again. That when pain bites you, you get the urge to bite back anything and everything that presents itself to you. That even if you try to "fictionalize" the experience and set it in the future, transform yourself into a Japanese man, you will still find yourself in a vicious cycle. Nobody ever gets together in a WKW world and live through it unscathed.
If you're in a Wong Kar Wai film, there are so few places to eat that you will bump into the people who caused you pain and you will have to make them dedma. Or that your hotel has only one phone in the lobby and you better be quick or you'll be at the bitching end of dedma. Or that you're doomed to listen to the same songs over and over again. Your world is excruciatingly small, but at least, you will always be fabulous and slick and you have nice clothes.
There's also this little Scorpio Nights moment in the film where Tony Leung peeks into this hole and he sees the other girl sleeping with someone and his tears fall through. I still don't understand everything in the movie. Probably need to sit through it 2 or 3 more times, and that's after watching Days of Being Wild and In the Mood for Love again. Maybe then I'll get illuminated.
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